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adore-healy · 2 months

Text

Talk!

Introducing my next piece — my biggest ever baby — just short of 18K of pure angst so buckle up! Please read the warnings below very carefully — I think I have everything covered but if there's anything else triggering which I've overlooked, please let me know!

Please be kind! Your lovely comments always mean the world to me! I hope you enjoy!

Warnings? Please read at your own risk! Brief mentions of body confidence (insecure reader); alcohol (mentions of vomit); drugs (mentions of rehab); very descriptive illegal drug use and overdose (injecting/needles, vomit, seizures, and mentions of death), sexual scenes and references; and bad language.

Talk!

Swaying ever so slightly, thanks to the glass of wine you’d downed upon your arrival at the party for some liquid confidence, you cross your legs and pray that whoever is taking so long in the bathroom will speed things along because you’re not sure how much longer your bladder can hold out for.

Leaning against the wall for support, you find yourself immersed in people watching as a form of distraction. It seems as though the landing area of the house was the most ideal make out spot for couples tonight — and you assume that the bedrooms are already taken; so you dare not risk using any of the en suites attached in fear of disturbing someone’s mid-fuck.

A group of lads are sat in a circle on the other side of the landing, engrossed in a card game which heavily involves alcohol as you hear them egg each other on with chants galore. One girl sits on the carpeted stairs, only two down from where you’re standing, and she drunkenly sobs into her phone, desperately apologising to whoever is on the other end — presumably an ex partner — as she begs them to take her back.

Your eyes wander observantly over to a group of girls huddled in a corner and despite your innocence in the drug scene at parties, you know that they are abusing a substance as they take turns to dramatically snort white powder off a car key. You’re instantly drawn to them; each of them dressed in clothing that accentuates their stunning figures, paired with high heels that you’d surely break an ankle in.

Self-consciousness suddenly becomes your most prominent feeling as you look down at the loose-fitting floral playsuit you’d chosen to wear this evening, along with your white low top converse. Wrapping your arms protectively around yourself, you wait as patiently as you possibly can.

As though your silent prayers had been answered, the lock of the door clicks, indicating that somebody is finally exiting the bathroom — although you’re hardly surprised when a girl stumbles out of the doorway and balances herself against the doorframe, a slight giggle escaping her lips.

“Steady, love,” a voice sounds from behind her.

Even in your tipsy haze, you’d know that northern accent anywhere — and as his hand comes to rest on the girls’ hip to support her in her drunken state, there’s no mistaking the recognisable box tattoo inked on the inside of his forearm.

Tears pool in your eyes and cloud your vision as you drink in the girls demeanour. Despite having full awareness that it’s not her fault, you can’t help but feel incredibly bitter towards her.

She’s hot.

Her brunette hair frames her face and the luscious curls fall to halfway down her back; fake tan and make up seemed to have been applied in excess but she was able to pull it off with ease; her lips — clearly injected with filler — were ruby red (although the smeared lipstick across her face doesn’t go unnoticed by you); and her waist is adorned by a matching black leather co-ord, her knee high boots giving prominence to her stature.

She’s really hot. Something that you’re not.

And …

… Matty.

The amount of times you’d spoken his name aloud; shouted it during an argument; whispered it in your sleep; whined it each time he would bring you close to the edge with his fingers, or tongue, or sometimes both, only to deny you of the orgasm you desperately craved; moaned it when he did finally let you come around him.

You wonder if his name would roll off your tongue so easily now.

He looks, dare you jinx it, healthy; adorned in a simplistic but dressy pair of black slacks paired with a plain white shirt (because he thinks it makes him appear ethereal — note: it does) and the outfit is completed with black patent shoes. He looks every inch the award winning successful pop star — and you liked it — until you remembered the girl he was keeping company with.

You hadn’t expected this situation to arise tonight; hadn’t prepared yourself for an awkward encounter with your ex-boyfriend; let alone seeing him clinging to a girl — a girl who isn’t you.

Upon handing out her birthday party invites this summer, Charli had confidently assured you that Matty wouldn’t be attending. You’re now realising it had perhaps been a ploy to get you here in the first place. Charli knew you wouldn’t miss her birthday, you’d promised her that yourself; but you would have preferred to have done something different between the two of you — or your group of shared girlfriends — to celebrate; a spa day; a bottomless brunch; a trip to the theatre; anything that didn’t require much social interaction (such as the disorderly house party currently taking place).

Dazed and slightly unsteady, you’re at a loss for words as you look up at Matty and the brunette — but your heart need not race with anxiety, your body need not shake with trepidation, your mind need not be perplexed — as the pair wade past you, not bothering to acknowledge your existence.

Narrowing your eyes, you watch the couple shuffle down the stairs and dodge past the sea of people loitering. Matty keeps the girl close to him, her back pressed against his chest, as his fingertips dance on her skin, his nails biting into her flesh as though he fears letting her go.

The urge to vomit overwhelms you — and you don’t think it’s tonight’s consumption of alcohol. Stumbling into the bathroom, you’re sure to lock the door behind you, before grabbing the porcelain basin for stability. Steadying your breaths and grounding yourself with a few ‘you’re okay’s,’you’re able to calm yourself down enough to remember why you’re in here in the first place; your bladder is about to explode.

Seating yourself on the toilet, your body slightly swaying in your intoxicated state, you close your eyes to ground yourself, drifting off in a daydream where times were different.

You were never Matty’s type — not typically. Fans often reminded you of that across various social media platforms, although not all comments were nasty. Some simply stated that you were far too innocent to be dragged into Matty’s world of sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll; whilst other opinions were cruel, leaving you to question your existence in Matty’s life altogether.

Their bitterness was laughable — until it wasn’t. Your rockstar boyfriend would often come home to you - a shell of your former self - locked away in the bathroom; tearfully obsessing over your looks (although not narcissistically); picking yourself apart; and somehow managing to find non-existent faults.

But ever the charming boyfriend, Matty loved on you every day of your relationship. You were continually reminded of his affection towards you with lavish bouquets of flowers, luxurious gifts, romantic picnics, candlelit dinners, and general expressive gestures — often intimate.

However, in spite of Matty’s adoration of you, it was his weakness that had come between you and ultimately resulted in the end of your relationship.

Although grateful for Matty overcoming his heroin addiction, his reliance on drugs had acted as a permanent barrier to a potential future together. You wanted forever with Matty; yearned for him to get down on one knee during an idyllic getaway to pop the question; desired to raise a family with him and experience the highs and lows of parenthood; and eventually grow old together (the only argument being who would be the first to go, because neither of you could live without the other).

It was an unrealistic scenario; you were unable to bring a child; Matty’s child; into a world where his substance abuse was coming first again; and before you. You didn’t condone it but you had accepted his use of recreational drugs — your boyfriend was in a band, after all, and smoking marijuana, snorting lines and popping pills was normalised in his world where creativity was key.

But Matty getting high once a month had soon turned into once a week, and coming home from a writing session in the studio with red eyes which rolled into the back of his head soon became once a day; and spending your evenings alone in your shared apartment whilst you awaited his arrival was proving difficult as you succumbed to the loneliness. Along with the lack of intimacy and the diminished romance, it felt as though you were living separate lives, passing ships in the night.

Late nights, drug dependencies and an obvious lack of appreciation often resulted in slanging matches between the two of you; harsh words thrown around and reverberating off the walls, both viciously biting back and mocking insecurities just to one up each other and instantly regretting it but both too stubborn to apologise. Arguments between you would conclude with slamming doors and estranged sleeping arrangements.

You’d remain in the apartment, clutching the teddy bear he’d won you at a Christmas fair one year — one that held a photo frame which housed a nostalgic photograph of the two of you together after the band had performed their self-titled album in full ten years after it’s release. You’d eventually sob yourself to sleep.

Matty would be cursing to himself and running a frustrated hand through his hair as he’d roam the streets, angrily kicking the ground and scuffing his shoes all whilst contemplating who to call at ungodly hours — before ultimately heading off to find his next fix to alleviate the pain he was causing to himself and everyone around him.

You were both hurting.

“Please y/n, let me come in,” a female voice begs.

You frown, adjusting your eyes as you rewire your drunken brain to return to Planet Earth. You wonder how long you had disassociated for; how long someone was calling your name from outside the bathroom before you finally noticed their presence.

It takes a minute to sort yourself out before you open the door to reveal Charli on the other side. She gives you a solemn but albeit reassuring smile before pulling you in for a hug.

“You said he wouldn’t be here,” you whisper into her neck as you rest your head on her shoulder.

Charli sighs sadly as she draws back from you to close the door behind her, locking it securely and leaving you both with some privacy.

“I wasn’t lying when I told you that y/n, please believe me,” she urges. “George …” she trails off, before explaining how the misunderstanding had occurred.

She doesn’t mean to throw her own boyfriend under the bus and shift the blame. It had been an accidental slip of the tongue during a recording session between the two band members, which resulted in Matty assuming he was already invited — and George didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise.

“’s fine, ’s not your fault,” you mumble in an attempt to reassure your friend. “Just wasn’t expecting to see him,” you add with a shrug as you sit yourself on the edge of bath.

Charli kneels in front of you, taking your hands in her own. It’s a silent comfort, a gesture to say that she’s here for you, one that you’re grateful for.

“Is he —” you begin, sighing heavily as your eyes find the ceiling, struggling to vocalise the words. Charli understands and gives you time to figure out what it is that you want to express. A tear rolls down your cheek and you finally whimper, “Is he clean?”

Charli sighs heavily, the pads of her thumbs gently rubbing reassuring circles on your knuckles.

“He’ll always have a problem with drugs, y/n,” integrity is laced in her voice. “But it’s mostly weed nowadays. He hasn’t touched heroin since rehab, you know that,” she reminds you. “He occasionally does coke, but it’s for creativity, and he’s never alone.”

You nod in understanding. You’re fully aware of the demands of his rockstar lifestyle and how the use of substances heavily influence his song writing and record producing; and using it in the company of the other band members wasn’t really the issue; it was when Matty used it alone and vowed to himself to keep it a secret that it became a problem, lying becoming a huge factor in the breakdown of your relationship.

“He realised,” she pauses, taking an in-breath before revealing, “after losing you, he needed to get his act together. He knew he couldn’t build a life with someone if he was always off his face.”

“Looks like he’s building a life with someone else just fine,” you sigh sadly, your eyes averting towards the bathroom door.

The thought of Matty’s arms around another girl especially in front of you makes you feel incredibly uneasy; your heart physically hurting as though somebody was continuously puncturing it and putting you through consistent pain; your stomach turning at the idea of their hands roaming each other’s bodies.

“Oh babe,” she whispers sadly.

“It’s ok,” you tell her with a small nod. Wiping the tears away from your face, you take a deep breath and compose yourself. “I’m ok,” you say, a little more convincingly paired with a smile. “I’ll be fine; it was just a bit of a shock, you know.”

Charli nods in understanding. “You were together for a long time, babe. You’re bound to be upset at seeing him move on with someone else … although,” her speech becomes slurred slightly due to her alcohol consumption and she’s suddenly whispering as though she’s about to reveal a sacred secret, “between you and me, I think he’s just looking for a quick shag.”

Her words, surprisingly, don’t cut deep, and you realise it’s perhaps because she’s drunk and she doesn’t really know she’s saying; or maybe it’s because you know it’s true. There had been no sign of another girl after you; no dating rumours maliciously spread online or in the media, no mention of a female name whenever you met with the rest of the band members and their other halves. Perhaps Matty was in need a good shag — and this girl was the first person willing to provide it for him.

“C’mon,” Charli gives you an encouraging nudge, breaking you out of your own drunken trance. “There’s more vodka and tequila and wine downstairs,” she lists the various alcohol options begging to be consumed. “Let’s get wrecked,” she finishes with a smirk.

It’s a mystery to you how both yourself and Charli have made it to the bottom of the stairs in one piece; not once stumbling or losing your balance despite your intoxicated state. Although, you weren’t complaining. Nobody needed to end up in hospital with a sprained ankle or broken leg, especially on Charli’s birthday.

“There’s my girl,” a male voice can barely be heard over the deafening beat of music that pulsates throughout the house. Emerging through the sea of people and heading towards you both is George, his arms outstretched as he makes a beeline for his girlfriend.

“Baby!” Charli yells dramatically as she stumbles into his open arms, nuzzling into his broad chest. She takes a few moments to regain her composure, inhaling his scent; the strong cologne smothering his plain white t-shirt.

“Someone’s having fun!” George exclaims over the music that reverberates around the house. He glances down and presses a kiss to Charli’s head, running a hand comfortingly across her back as they look ever the disgustingly in love couple.

“We are!” she slurs, smirking up at her fiancé, before loudly declaring, “I’m going … that way!” She points theatrically towards the kitchen as she suddenly steps out from George’s embrace to meet his gaze.

“And why’s that, baby?” he asks, pressing his hands gently to her cheeks, cupping her face.

“Because … that’s where the vodka is, silly!” she giggles, rolling her eyes at her boyfriend, as she feels as though she’s stating the most obvious thing in the world before she starts swaying on the spot.

“Whoa,” George murmurs softly, wrapping an arm protectively around her waist. “‘m not sure you need anymore vodka, babe,” he sniggers at his girlfriend’s drunkenness, although already dreading the raging hangover she’ll experience in the morning. “I best get this one some water,” he tells you, when Charli once again drunkenly collapses against his chest. “Will you be alright?” he asks, peering over her head to meet your gaze, genuine concern laced in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah … go on, you look after her. I’ll be fine,” you nod in reply, waving him off.

Taking a step down the corridor, Charli flings her arms around George’s neck, causing them both to stumble down the hallway and out of sight into the kitchen, leaving you alone. You watch them for a while, noting the interaction between them — physical touch clearly their love language as they can’t keep they hands off of each other — and despite your happiness for them in their relationship, you can’t help but feel immensely jealous of the love they have for each other.

Taking in your surroundings, you’re indecisiveness would normally kick in around now, unsure of where to go and who to spend your time with, but thanks to the many shots you’d manage to knock back this evening, your anxiety is currently kept at bay as you head into the lounge.

Drunken revellers are scattered all around the room — some making out with each other on the sofas, hips grinding against each other and moans of pleasure filling the air; others are in large gatherings and engaged in booming conversations about anything and everything; party goers sit on the floor playing drinking games; whilst a couple of guests are sprawled, uncomfortably looking, across the sofa clearly sleeping off the early hangover that’s already kicked in.

Panic threatens to rear it’s ugly head as you suddenly become hyperaware of the scenario you now find yourself in currently playing out — and you mentally scold yourself for ever thinking that the alcohol you'd consumed this evening could ever give you enough liquid confidence to mingle at such a social event.

You’re in a room full of people; yet you’re alone. None of these people are your friends, and you’re not looking for a quick fuck, either. You don’t have anyone to talk to; anyone to interact with. Desperately seeking a solution, your eyes dart around the room, yet in only a matter of seconds they seem to find a problem in a darkened corner, and you’re forced to watch an intense interaction unfold.

How was it possible to feel everything and nothing at the same time?

Your heart stops beating within your chest, whilst simultaneously shattering into a million pieces. Dizziness consumes your entire body as though you could collapse at any given moment, but your feet are planted firmly to the ground. Your palms start to sweat and your cheeks glow red, your body’s way of telling you you’re overheating, yet your blood runs cold within your veins.

The scene in front of you burns into your eyes, as though it’s a movie that you must involuntarily watch repeatedly; experiencing the trauma over and over again; because you’re adamant that even when you close your eyes, the image will be etched in your brain, one that you’ll see in your nightmares every night from now on.

Matty’s hands are snaked around the brunette’s waist, his fingertips digging into the fleshiest part of her as his larger, overpowering frame keeps her in place against the magnolia wall. His white dress shirt is unbuttoned three from the top, his inked skin exposed as the woman’s palms rest atop his chest, her digits occasionally finding themselves dancing upon the artwork that adorns his body.

You can’t help your eyes wandering below as it becomes increasingly apparent that Matty’s erection is straining within his trousers, his well-endowed manhood threatening to break free of the material. As he becomes progressively turned on, he thrusts his hips towards her body, and one of his hands comes to rest on her inner thigh.

Based on your previous experiences in make out sessions with Matty, you know his fingers will soon find their way up the leather skirt that clings to the girl’s body, before they seek out her sweet spot and have her coming all over them.

You watch his tongue battle against hers for dominance; and you’re surprised at how easily you play into your own imagination as you’re plagued with thoughts about his mouth; because you know you would have submitted by now, granting Matty permission to take full control of the situation.

The affectionate act would be reassuring, your comfort absolutely paramount to him. With your arms around his neck and your bodies desperately pressing together as though intertwining, Matty would trail sloppy wet kisses along your jawline. One hand resting upon your hip and the other placed on the wall of the darkened corner behind you, you would be trapped, pleasantly, in his company.

As his head lowers towards your neck, he’d pull the strap of your playsuit down, exposing your clavicle. He would greedily eye up your collarbone, before allowing his lips to linger for longer than necessary as he gently sucked at your skin, surely leaving a bruise as a reminder. Expressing your pleasure through a small moan would have his lips crashing against yours instantly, the taste of cigarette smoke still on his breath, his lungs full of tar as you inhaled the tobacco second hand.

However, it wouldn’t be long before your insecurities during intimate acts would rear their ugly heads, getting the better of you, and a small whimper against Matty’s plump lips, as you desperately seek solace, has his hands cupping your face, his confidence blooming as he guides you throughout.

“Doin’ so well for me, love,” he would murmur against your lips. The conviction in his voice soothed you, the passionate kisses made you feel secure, and the tenderness of his touches made you feel safe; as though you have a place, with him, in this world.

“Matty,” is all you’d manage to whimper against him, your body quivering at the slightest touch, his words of praise turning you on.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he’d encourage more moans to escape you, desperate to hear how good he makes you feel. “Gonna let me touch you?” he always had the gentlemanly habit of asking for your consent, despite you both already knowing the answer.

With his hot breath fanning over your blush cheeks, you’d nod against him, responding with a mumbled, “mmhmm,” and granting him permission to do so, unable to form a coherent response.

Wasting no time, his fingers would brush past you intimately, and he’d be so grateful that the playsuit you chose to wear tonight was loose fitting around your thighs, giving him the easiest access to the ever growing wet patch on your underwear.

“So fuckin’ wet for me, darling,” he would express his approval at the dampness between your legs. “Good girl,” came the praise as he’d edge you, his digits rubbing hard against you.

You would flinch as his thumb circles your sensitivity in repetitive motions. His kisses become wetter and sloppier as you moan into his mouth, his lips smirking at the hushed moans leaving your lips.

Bucking his hips towards you and pushing you further into the corner, ensuring to maintain your dignity and leaving no space between you, would have him breathless against your body.

“Can you feel that, darling? That’s what you do to me.” He’d be hard; only for you.

His thumb and forefinger work in tandem against your bundle of nerves, and with the increased pressure to the circular motion he inflicts upon you, you would be so responsive for him, whimpering and quivering against him, desperate for release.

“Come on darling, you gonna come for me?” he’d ask, rhetorically, because he knows you will. “That’s it, love, give me a good one,” he talks you through it, and you don’t take much more coaxing before you come undone around him, soaking his fingers and coming over the cotton material.

He’d gaze intently, the sight of you post-orgasm incredibly mesmerising to him. He’d allow you a few moments to regain your composure; you regulate your breathing simultaneously with his whispers of encouragement, words of praise, and affectionate touches guaranteed to soothe you.

“That’s it, darlin’. Come back to me,” he would press a kiss to your cheek, bringing you down from your high and back to reality, his admiration for you soaring. Despite being surrounded by hundreds of people at the house party, Matty somehow had the ability to make you feel as though you were the only person in the room.

He anchored you.

But you drowned anyway.

“Come on, darling,” a soft voice from behind you whispers.

A tentative pair of hands come to rest on your hips, fearful of startling you. Normally, despite your timid personality, you would react to unwanted male attention, uninvited hands touching your body, but it’s Ross, and you know you’re safe with him.

“Come on,” he repeats. “You don’t need to see this.”

He manages to guide you out of the lounge and into the hallway; although you’re not quite sure how your brain and limbs are working in tandem. It’s as though your feet won’t move; stuck to the spot and unable to drag yourself away from the torment unfolding before your eyes; yet you can’t move quick enough, your body urging you to leave the horror behind.

Alcohol courses through your veins and you wish the depressant had acted as a sedative but instead it’s dramatically heightened your feelings. Your stomach is turning at the sight of Matty passionately making out with the brunette as though they were a couple of horny teenagers, desperate to get their end away.

Music thumps around you, drum and bass bouncing off the walls and reverberating around the room and you’re pretty sure that your pounding heart is simultaneous with the fast breakbeats, both working in unison.

Your knees begin to buckle beneath you, unable to support yourself as adrenaline pulses through your body. Desperately trying to swallow air into your lungs, your breath hitches around the tears that flow freely down your blush cheeks.

The oxymoron of your emotions is terrifying and there’s too much to contend with; it’s as though you’re in a dream like state — a nightmare — and a passing thought of, “Is this the equivalent to being high?” crosses your mind.

“Breathe, y/n,” Ross gently encourages as he steadies your body against his own. “Just breathe.”

You can feel people staring, eyes watching intently as they nosily observe your demeanour. They probably assume you're drunk or high; you don’t really care; you’re unable to concentrate on anything other than Matty at the moment.

“’s loud,” you whimper.

Cigarette smoke and marijuana fills the air, hustle and bustle continuing around you as Ross comes to stand in front of you, blocking your view of the party guests loitering in the hallway, as he attempts to protect you, maintaining your dignity in your vulnerable state.

“What was that, love?” he asks, lowering his ear to your mouth in an attempt to hear you around the electronic dance music that blares through the speakers.

“It’s loud!” you cry out again, shaking your head vigorously as though to rid the noise around you; the chatter amongst friends, the laughter between guests; the deafening music; your own thoughts. At the risk of looking as if having a breakdown, your place your hands over your ears, covering them.

Your eyes dart towards two figures fast approaching and even through your tears you instantly recognise them to be Carly and Adam.

“What’s happened?” Carly asks, obvious concern lacing her voice.

You squeeze your eyes shut and fiercely shake your head once more. “It’s too loud!” you sob this time because why does nobody understand?! Why is everybody talking so loud?

“Hey, it’s ok, I’ve got you,” Carly reassures you, gently placing a supportive hand on the small of your back.

You’re too in your own head to realise that the other two men in your presence exchange a glance, Ross pulling Adam aside to fill him in on Matty’s antics tonight.

Pulling you close, Carly attempts to protect you from the continuous stares of the other party goers, and upon overhearing the conversation taking place behind you between her husband and his friend, simultaneous with her reassuring words of, “It’s ok, darling, just breathe,” she makes an efficient decision to take you into the kitchen.

Carly understands, completely, and takes control of the situation. Leading you towards the corner counter, she encourages you to rest your swaying body against the unit for some sort of stability. The kitchen, filled with pop-stars, is almost like a safe haven for you — these people were important, and you weren’t, so they had no time to focus on you and your breakdown. They didn’t care.

“Here,” a voice murmurs softly, a glass of water offered to you in an outstretched hand. It takes you a few seconds for your blurry eyes to focus, your body swaying slightly, before you realise that it’s Adam.

You reach forward, tentatively taking the glass of liquid between both of your hands, attempting to steady your hold on the object which proves to be difficult with your shaking frame. You bring the water to your lips and start to sip it, before increasing the pace in which you drink and taking larger gulps.

“Slowly,” Carly whispers, placing her hand over yours on the glass and encouraging you to take your time. “That’s it, y/n. Nice and slowly,” she praises you as you take smaller sips once again.

You finally regain yourself, tears no longer freely flowing — but your cheeks are stained with track marks where you’d previously been crying. The reverberating music doesn’t seem quite as harsh against the walls in the kitchen; and it’s perhaps the most peaceful room in the house, despite there being plenty of celebrities surrounded by cigarette smoke and noisy chatter amongst friends.

Placing the glass down on the kitchen counter, you turn to Carly and Adam. “He … there was …” you attempt to explain yourself but you’re unable to vocalise the horror that you had witnessed — Matty making out with another girl.

“’s ok,” Carly intervenes, recognising your struggle.

Your bottom lip trembles again and it shatters Carly’s heart that you feel this way, your emotions heightened and running away with you — upset; angry; distressed; inferior; betrayed. She gives Adam a knowing look, and he too is burning with rage.

“Just … wait here,” Carly tells you softly, her hands coming to brush your hair out of your face. “I’ll be right back, ok?” she assures you, softly cupping your face in her hands as she wipes away the remnants of salty tears.

You don’t really comprehend what she’s saying to you; everything is a surreal blur — but you nod anyway. As you stare into space, you hear Adam whisper hiss, “I’ll kill him,” under his breath, as he and Carly head off, presumably back to the lounge.

And just like that, you’re alone, again.

With alcohol increasing your sensitivity to everything, the lingering taste of tequila is still prominent on your lips and the smell of cigarette smoke — once a comforting scent when it came to Matty — and marijuana fills the air, making you feel lightheaded, and you know it will take at least three hair wash routines before you get the smell out.

Your eyes avert around the room as though you’re in a dream-like state. In body, you’re here, but your mind is elsewhere. You observe the other pop-stars who are loitering and talking, not giving a fuck about you — and you also note the amount of bottles that clutter the countertops; some beverages opened and half drank, the sides inundated with empty ones, and a few completely untouched.

“You need to lighten up, sweetheart.”

In your dazed state, you’re not sure who is talking to who right now. You lazily turn your head in the direction of where the voice had come from, to see a young man sitting on the kitchen island opposite you. It takes you a few seconds to realise that he’d aimed his comment at you.

He was alone, too.

He’s cute, you note. Dressed in a moth-bitten black knitted jumper and a pair of black skinny jeans, he mirrors Matty’s iconic grunge look and it’s enough to make you want to fuck him on the kitchen counter in front of everyone; and vomit at the sight of him; at exactly the same time.

His dangling legs are swinging beneath him as he fidgets atop of the counter to get comfortable, his fingers drumming against the granite surface.

Ignoring your initial liking to him looking every inch the boyfriend, you reach forward, opting for the bottle of wine sat next to the him, shrugging off his comment and not once acknowledging his existence. You didn’t have the time of day for any man right now.

Taking a swig from the half-full bottle of Pinot Grigio in your hand, you close your eyes, still trying to rid yourself of the image of Matty embracing another girl.

“Seriously, babe,” he tries again, “You look upset … and wine definitely won’t help you,” he tries again.

You lower the bottle, although it’s still close enough to your lips that it’s practically dancing against them, as you get ready to down another mouthful of the alcohol once this conversation concludes.

“And what will?” you scoff, rolling your eyes at him.

“Something stronger … if you get my drift,” he raises an eyebrow.

You know what he’s implying, but you choose to ignore him. You raise the bottle back to your lips, but something stops you — the guy before you wraps his hand around your wrist, preventing you from drowning your sorrows further.

“Drugs?” you ask rhetorically, mirroring his raised eyebrow at his obviousness.

He shrugs at you although you can tell he becomes slightly shifty, his eyes wandering to make sure nobody had heard you. Delving into his pocket, he pulls out a small packet containing a white powdery substance and throws it down onto the island in front of you.

“’s your call,” he murmurs with a nod. “You can have this one on the house,” his eyes flit between the package and you.

Anxiousness is your forefront emotion as you gaze down at the illegal substance. You weren’t naive to the reality of drug-dealing. The first batch this guy had just offered to you for free was a ploy to get you hooked; to keep you coming back for more as a regular client.

But in turn, it meant addiction; an illness. Being with Matty had shown you an ugly side of drugs that you could have only ever imagined. At the time of being your boyfriend, Matty had fallen into a world of lies and deceit, ultimately resulting in a failed relationship.

You shake your head, “No, thank you though.”

The man opposite you furrows his brows.

“Are you sure? I have plenty and … well, it’s just you seem pretty upset and it will make you feel better. I’m going to hazard a guess that it’s boy trouble?” he asks, almost knowingly.

You don’t respond; you didn’t want this man — a complete stranger who you'd known less than five minutes — psychoanalysing you.

“You know, everyone here is doing drugs,” he informs you in a whisper, stating it matter of factly. “These people; they might seem like they’re put together and better than everyone else, but the truth is, they need to take their pain away, too. Trust me, I can help you.”

Registering his words, your eyes avert back to the package.

“What … what is it?” you ask him, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Smack,” he answers without hesitation. “Looks like you need it to work pretty quick as well,” he adds, before taking another object out of his pocket and placing it on the counter beside the drug. “The quickest way to get your high is by cooking it, and then injecting it, preferably into a vein,” he tells you as you look down at the syringe now on the kitchen side.

It would be plain to anyone watching this interaction that you’re unknowledgeable; possessed by innocence in this life. Sure, you’d experimented with the socially accepted substances; alcohol (many of nights had ended with you retching into a toilet bowl and nursing a hangover into the next day), and smoking tobacco cigarettes; but otherwise, you’d lead a pretty sheltered life, for which you were grateful for.

“How?” you ask, before clarifying, “How do I cook it?”

The attractive guy smirks back at you. Perhaps he thought you were cute? Or maybe he was lonely and wanted the company? Then again, it could be because he was grooming a young, vulnerable girl into taking an illegal substance which would hopefully have her hooked and coming back for more.

You shake your head at the intrusive thoughts that begin to plague your mind, your anxiety levels peaking as you realise just how unsure you are of this; and how alone you are at the moment.

Matty was too busy trying to get fucked by a pretty model; Ross, Adam and Carly had all left you to go God knows where; and knowing them, George and Charli were probably shagging in the flowerbed at the end of the garden.

But ultimately, you were alone.

“’s easy,” he mumbles, jumping down from the side and walking over to the kitchen counter where you were stood, cornering you between the units.

He’s confident, but not cocky or threatening, and right now you feel seen; heard; and maybe even safe in this man’s presence right now. He reaches towards the cutlery drawer next to you, pulling out a silver spoon.

“Firstly, we need a cooker and a heat source,” he shows you the cutlery in his hand, although you already know it’s a slightly amateur move when he hasn’t provided his own equipment in his drug sharing ritual — but you’ll let him off since you’re no expert either.

With his back turned towards everyone else in the kitchen, he’s left to secretly pour the contents of the plastic bag onto the spoon. He steadies his hand, before delving into his pocket with the other and reaching for a lighter. Placing it underneath the spoon, he begins to melt the heroin, and you watch on, fascinated as the powder gradually turns into a liquid.

“Take it for me,” he gestures towards the spoon.

You do as he says, trying your best to steady your grip on the handle of the cutlery.

The man turns to discretely observe the other party goers in the kitchen and he’s satisfied when some of the guests had filtered out of the room — a few of them having decided to go into the garden — and those who were remaining were still just as uninterested in you both.

“We can put it in this now,” he tells you, and he draws the liquidated substance into the syringe, filling it with the drug. “I need your shoe lace,” he nods down to your fresh white converse.

“Why?” you ask.

He smirks — although you’re not sure if it’s his way of flirting or if he’s amused by your lack of knowledge and obvious inexperience. It’s probably the latter, you think.

“Because …” he begins, placing the needle on the kitchen counter top before kneeling down in front of you and continuing, “We need a tie off.”

His words don’t make much sense to you as he makes light work of untying your shoe, removing the lace through the eyelets with ease. It seems almost affectionate; but then again, you were able to romanticise most things in your life. Perhaps it’s fate that you and the guy who’s teaching you to inject heroin had met this evening. Everything happens for a reason.

He stands up again, towering over your frame, the shoe lace held loose within his hand.

“I need to tie this around your arm,” he tells you, brushing the material across your skin.

Tying the shoe lace tightly around your arm, he then uses his two forefingers to tap against your skin a few times, encouraging the blood flow to make a vein become more prominent.

“If you inject into a vein, you’ll feel the effects quicker,” he whispers to you, as he runs his fingers across a protruding blue blood vessel. “You’ll get high before you even realise it.” Taking the needle from the kitchen counter, he holds it towards you.

“Are you ready?” he asks gently, an eyebrow slightly raised as he observes your nervous features.

Were you ready?

You think back to the series of events that had occurred throughout the course of the night. Seeing Matty with another girl — a hot brunette that was totally his type — had destroyed you. It made your heart physically ache; shattering into millions of tiny pieces; and he just didn’t seem to care. He hadn’t even noticed you all evening.

Despite his friends rallying around you, you knew it was perhaps out of guilt and pity. Did they really love you, or did they see you as a weak and vulnerable ex-girlfriend who needs babysitting because she can’t control her emotions?

Heroin had been a welcomed escape for Matty throughout his time of using — it distracted his brain from everything bad that was happening around him — the drug was there, begging for him to use it to ease his pain and make life more bearable.

What had only ever meant to start off as experimenting, part and parcel of being a rockstar, soon turned into a severe dependence on the drug; an addiction; resulting in constantly lying to those he loved, relationship breakdowns, arguments between family and friends and ultimately, losing you.

But heroin relieved Matty of his emotional pain and torment, even if only temporary and perhaps you needed a distraction tonight, something to take away your pain — even if only temporary.

One time wouldn’t hurt you.

“I’m ready.”

Matty’s moans are soft and delicate as his back arches into the fabric sofa, the hot woman’s lips nipping at his neck as she straddles his thighs, clearly turning him on. She grinds her hips against him and he bucks himself towards her, cursing the clothing that gets in the way of his ever growing erection.

“Fuck,” he groans softly.

He doesn’t care who hears him, other drunken revellers finding themselves in similar positions around the house, and for those who aren’t looking for a quick fuck tonight are too drunk or high to get laid anyway. He seems to be the least important pop star in the room — and for once, he thinks he likes it.

“Fuck,” he moans again, when she sucks at his neck. “Fuck, yeah,” he bucks his hips towards her again as her tequila tasting lips no doubt leave a harsh love bite on his pale skin, a bruise already forming with the intensity of her actions.

“Can’t,” she suddenly groans against him.

Matty understands, immediately.

“Upstairs?” he questions.

He’s sure — so certain — that she wants to take this further but can’t because they’re in the living room — able to be gawked at by others; which is odd, he thinks, because she hasn’t been shy about where their make out sessions have been taking place so far. She hasn’t cared who has been watching.

“Stop,” she whisper hisses, before making her voice more firm. “Stop, Matty. Need … need t’ … stop,” she tells him, before pulling herself away. She can barely look him in the eye as she runs a hand through her tangled hair.

“‘s wrong?” he asks.

She shrugs before removing herself from his lap. There’s not much dignity for Matty as his erection strains against the black tailored trousers he’d chosen for this evening — and there’s no cushion or throw to cover his embarrassing situation.

“You ok?” he asks, genuine concern laced in his voice.

“I … I need to get home … to … my …” she stutters, almost embarrassed as reality hits hard.

“To your what?” he asks breathlessly, giving a deathly stare as his patience is beginning to wear thin and his nostrils flare because he has a horrible feeling where this conversation is heading.

“To my … partner,” she adds, finally allowing the words to leave her lips. She smooths the black leather skirt down her legs properly, the material having ridden up her thighs to expose her hips during the steamy session.

“You … you have … have a boyfriend?” Matty splutters, as they make eye contact with each other; the first time since the woman had pulled away from his embrace.

“Husband,” the younger girl corrects him, the disco lights suddenly reflecting off the wedding band that adorned her ring finger — a harsh reminder to him that he was being used. Biting her lip mischievously, she cruelly tells him, “Just because you’re a rockstar, doesn’t mean I was going to let you take me home. It was just a few kisses here and a few touches there. ’s no big deal. I … we had an argument and I did … things … this … in the heat of the moment.”

“No big deal?” he repeats her words, shaking his head and furrowing his brows in disbelief.

“You’ll get over it,” she shrugs unapologetically, pulling her bra strap back over her shoulder before standing up from her position on the sofa and heading towards the doorway of the lounge. She doesn’t even turn back as she leaves and Matty emits a breathy laugh, almost shocked that he, Matty Healy, would be leaving the party tonight without a girl to fuck.

It’s humiliating for him — and his dick is still relatively hard, the tip surely leaking with his salty pre-come. He sighs heavily, throwing an arm over his face as he tries to ignore the twitching in his pants.

He takes a few deep breaths, composing himself, before reaching towards his jacket pocket and pulling out a packet of cigarettes and lighter. Taking a drag, he leans back against the sofa again, finally satisfied as his erection eventually begins to soften.

“No less than you deserve,” George suddenly mutters as he pushes himself away from the wall where he had watched the scene unfold. He draws in a deep breath from his own cigarette as he approaches Matty.

“Fuck sake,” Matty groans, embarrassed, running a hand through his dishevelled hair before taking another drag. It had been degrading enough for Matty to experience being mugged off by the younger girl, let alone one of his best friends having watched the interaction.

“Dick,” George murmurs under his breath, shaking his head, before flicking some ash from the cigarette still held loosely between his first and middle fingers.

Raising an eyebrow, Matty looks puzzled at his friend.

“What did you call me?” he asks breathily, in disbelief.

“I said,” George inhales, stepping closer, standing over his friend, and giving him a sarcastic smile, “You’re a dick.”

“Oh fuck off,” Matty quickly brushes it off as banter.

“’s a dick move,” George repeats once again with a shrug, although his tone is serious and filled with sincerity. He backs away slightly, standing upright once again as he drinks in Matty’s pathetic demeanour, shaking his head once again.

With the attitude and lack of humour, Matty realises that George is being serious. He’s upset about something, clearly pissed off — and now he’s worried.

“You knew she’d be here,” George tells him, pointing his forefinger towards Matty. “You fucking knew!” he grits his teeth, angrily, before turning around and running a hand over his face.

Matty stands up, prepared to square up to his best friend. Despite the fact that the boys never really argued much — and nothing was ever too serious between them — alcohol consumption and the fact that Matty’s really pissed off would be motive enough for them to have a few harsh words between each other.

“She saw you, Matty!” George yells, turning to face the other man again before grabbing at the collar of his white shirt. There’s no opportunity for Matty to react or defend himself as George shouts at him once again, pushing him against the wall and backing him into the corner.

The feeble one sided brawl earns a few concerned looks from the other party-goers as some guests slyly watch the commotion between the two men unfold, whilst others are more obvious, eager in their observations as they gossip amongst each other.

“She fucking saw you with another girl and it’s breaking her heart! Everything she ever did for you … she stood by you when everyone else fucked off and left you!” George shouts into Matty’s face, harshly reminding him who was there for him during his time of need.

“Who?” Matty asks, aghast. “Who saw me?”

George shakes his head in disbelief, loosening the grip on the collar of Matty’s shirt.

Inhaling another drag from his cigarette, George looks Matty up and down, regaining his composure.

“Who, George?” Matty repeats his question. “Who saw me?”

“She saw everything; y/n saw everything,” George closes his eyes as he speaks, almost pained on your behalf.

“She … she saw …” Matty stutters, releasing an in-breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. The mere mention of your name has his heart pounding within his chest, his palms sweating from anxiousness, his knees almost buckling beneath him.

So many questions were whizzing around his head right now.

He didn’t even know you’d be here; was none the wiser that you’d been invited.

Were you here alone or did you have company?

Why hadn’t you made it clear to him that you were here?

He hadn’t already seen you — had he?

Matty knew you — he fucking knew you. A party like this — this wasn’t your scene. Or had he just lacked so much attention this evening that you were able to bypass him at any given opportunity?

Because if he had have seen you, he would have made it his priority to have had you straddling his hips; your mouth suckling his prominent collarbones and leaving a permanent reminder, your cunt he’d be edging with his fingers, before your pretty lips would be begging to be wrapped around his cock.

Not the woman he can’t even remember the name of.

Guilt is his forefront emotion; a horrific feeling of shame overcoming him as he can only sympathise with how you must be feeling — you’d seen him in the company of another girl — a girl that wasn't you. Granted; it was a terrible context but it was still one that he could not excuse or condone — but the only reason he’d had a sleazy make out session was to distract himself from you. He had to find you and tell you.

Arriving at the party tonight, Matty had felt lonely — all of his friends were coupled up.

Ross and Chloe.

George and Charli.

Adam and Carly.

Matty and … nobody.

“She … she’s … here?” Matty finally chokes out.

George nods slowly, finally having calmed himself down as he seeks out the ash tray that stands on the coffee table behind him.

“Where … where is she?” Matty asks urgently, mirroring George’s actions and following suit as he too, stubs out his own cigarette.

“I don’t think she’ll want to see you, mate,” George tells him regrettably.

“I need to talk to her! I need to …” he shouts desperately, making a beeline for the door of the lounge, but George’s broad frame comes to stand in front of him and is able to stop him from going any further.

“You need to calm down first, yeah,” he begins, placing a hand on his chest, but Matty quickly interrupts.

“I am calm!” his tone contradicts him — although George knows his raised voice isn’t from a place of anger at you — but more so frustration towards himself.

“You’re angry,” George clarifies; it’s a statement, not a question.

Matty nods in agreement, knowing there’s no denying his emotions, before reassuring his friend, “Not at her, though.”

“I know,” George sighs, his eyes finding the ceiling as he contemplates allowing Matty to find you — but he’s really not sure that’s a good idea right now considering you had been having a breakdown no less than fifteen minutes ago.

“I’m not … don’t want t’ churn out any drama,” Matty runs his hand frustratedly through his hair, clearly at a loss. His eyes wander intensely around the room, unsure of how to approach the situation. “I just … want to make it right, ’s all,” he adds, desperation evident in his voice.

Matty knows — he fucking knows — he has to make this right. He doesn’t want to be finding a meaningless fuck at a party. It’s you — and only you — that he wants — and despite the breakdown of your relationship that was his fault, the history between you, the chemistry; it’s always you.

“Ok,” George sighs, defeated. He steps aside, allowing Matty the freedom he desires to find you, but he’s stopped instantly when Carly appears at the door frame, her cheeks blush and her features panicked as she catches her breath.

“Carly?” George questions, mirroring the concern etched on her face.

“What?” Matty’s husky voice asks. “What’s happened?” he repeats, urgency evident in his tone when he drinks in Carly’s solemn expression.

Time stands still for a few moments — George’s expression is full of confusion, his brows furrowed, and Matty’s stomach drops, his palms beginning to sweat and he’s worried — because he knows whatever she’s about to reveal isn’t good news.

Carly sighs heavily, her tongue running across her bottom lip before she finally utters the words, “It’s y/n.”

“Get out the fuckin’ way!” Matty’s voice can be heard as he forces his way through the sea of onlookers before he’s eventually pushed himself to stand at the forefront of the crowd, George and Carly hot on his heels as they both come to stand behind him.

The sight that greets Matty is one that he never, ever, thought he would see; and he wishes, so desperately, that this is a nightmare and he’s about to wake up any second now; but not all things were possible.

He’s certain, one hundred percent, that his heart stops beating once he claps eyes on you; fear and anxiety consuming his entire being as he suddenly feels nauseous, his mouth as dry as sandpaper and his legs wobbling like jelly.

Your body is passed out on the kitchen floor; limp and lifeless.

“No,” a strangled cry leaves Matty’s lips, as George’s hand comes to firmly rest on his shoulder.

It takes a moment before his brain can signal for his legs to move, shock taking over him as he looks down towards your unconscious body placed in the recovery position against the cold tiles.

“No, no, no, no,” he continues breathlessly as he lowers himself beside you. “She … is she …” he chokes on a sob, grabbing for your wrist. Placing two fingers on your pulse point, he sobs frantically once again, “I can’t … she hasn’t …”

“She has a pulse,” a voice sounds from the other side of your body.

Ross.

“She …” Matty stutters.

“It’s faint but that ambulance needs to hurry up,” Ross speaks more to himself — but it’s a hint to Adam as well — who Matty now realises is on the phone to a call handler. Adam rests a palm on the kitchen countertop, remaining calm as he passes on the crucial information to whoever is on the other end of his mobile, to ensure help arrives as soon as possible for you.

“What’s happened?” Matty cries out, not even attempting to compose himself in front of the onlookers as his eyes scan your features for any sign of visible injury.

There’s nothing upon his initial inspection; his eyes wandering briefly over your body — no bruises or bleeding; nothing that would indicate any valid reason as to why you’re passed out on the kitchen floor and unresponsive to everything going on around you.

“She’s …” Ross begins, “She collapsed. She’s taken …” he gulps nervously, unable to continue.

“What? What has she …” Matty begins, but he’s unable to vocalise the rest of his question as his eyes avert around the room, looking for any clues as to what substance you had abused.

Much to his horror, he notices the needle, spoon and empty packet that lays only a meter away from your unconscious body. The last straw for Matty is seeing the tie-off around your arm, and quickly recognising it as a shoe lace, he confirms his suspicions as his gaze wanders over your converse with the missing lace.

He shakes his head, attempting to rid himself of the thought of you injecting an illegal substance to numb the pain that he caused tonight. George was right; this was his fault.

“Fuck,” he whimpers, running an agitated hand through his hair.

It’s Ross who takes the lead on trying to stir you as he gently rolls you onto your back and applies a harsh stimulus, rubbing his knuckles along your sternum. “Come on, y/n,” he encourages. Adrenaline coursing through his own veins, he increasingly adds more pressure, no doubt leaving bruises along your chest.

“Come on, darling,” Matty whimpers, focusing his attention entirely on you as he instead runs a hand through your hair. It’s a reassuring gesture, one to let you know that you’re not alone, despite Matty knowing you’re completely unaware of your surroundings and the situation you’re currently in.

“Do you have any Naloxone?” Ross is confident he already knows the answer now that Matty himself is clean of heroin, but he clutches at straws anyway in any attempt to revive you, not once stopping applying the stimulus to your chest.

Matty shakes his head.

“No,” he swallows, his hand still stroking your hair affectionately.

If only it had been that simple. For once, he curses himself for no longer possessing the cruel and life changing heroin addiction he’d once been a victim to; maybe then he could provide an antidote that would reverse the opioid overdose.

“Alright everyone, out!” a voice suddenly yells.

Carly.

Despite her smaller frame and her sobriety, she’s forceful in her words.

“Come on, we don’t need an audience!” she speaks again, encouraging the guests to leave — although not giving them much of a choice as Charli and George come to her aid to create a barrier, ushering them away from the kitchen.

“We’ll keep them away and … entertained,” George murmurs, considering a choice of words, although he’s not sure either Matty or Ross are taking on board what he’s saying, understandably preoccupied with helping you. Together, the three of them ensure they maintain your dignity as much as possible.

There’s a few groans, some of the party goers wishing to be nosy at the scene unfolding. If Matty wasn’t so consumed by your unconscious state, terrified of your fate, he thinks he would have been physically violent towards some of these people, prepared to start a brawl with anyone who was revelling at your position and the drama unfolding.

“s ok, love,” Matty whispers softly, although he’s not sure if he’s attempting to reassure you or himself when there’s still no inkling of you coming round just yet.

“Fuck sake,” Ross mutters, as he observes the equipment sprawled across the floor nearby. His eyes averting to the shoe lace around your arm, he shakes his head, before saying, “Someone’s helped her to do this. She wouldn’t know where to start.” He gestures towards the equipment before returning to rubbing your sternum once again.

Matty whimpers, knowingly.

It was true; respectfully, you had no idea how to administer any form of illegal drug or how to even get hold of any such substance. Even when Matty himself was actively using, he made sure you were nowhere near heroin — or any other drug for that matter. The fact that the equipment littered around your unconscious body had indicated that you’d cooked a drug before injecting it made both Matty and Ross feel uneasy — another person had played a part in this.

“C’mon y/n,” Ross repeats.

It feels as though it takes a lifetime before any success comes of the stimulus Ross applies but a sudden choked splutter indicates your regain of consciousness.

However, there’s no time to waste as the two men kneeling at your frame quickly realise they need to roll you into the recovery position again. You emit a small whinge at the action, taking a dislike to being moved so suddenly before you vomit violently on the cold tiles beneath you.

“’s it darling, there we go,” Matty comforts you, reaching for your hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

He shuffles himself as close to you as he can possibly be, as though his presence alone could make you better, and not once fazed by the sick that you eject.

“That’s it baby, let it all out,” he encourages, brushing your hair away from your face as Ross rests his hand gently atop of your back as you uncontrollably empty the contents of your stomach.

“Ambulance will be another twenty minutes or so,” Adam murmurs softly as he comes to kneel beside you as well.

Keeping the phone pressed between his ear and shoulder, he looks between Ross and Matty as they try to deal with the copious amount of vomit. Adam shakes his head, knowing just how touch and go this situation could be for you now, and swooping in with one hand full of kitchen roll, he wordlessly begins cleaning up around you.

Your bout of sickness seems never ending and it’s obvious that the alcohol you’d consumed in high volume has also played a huge part in why your reaction to the heroin you’d injected was so severe, your body rejecting the liquids you’d downed that night.

“That’s it, good girl,” Matty praises you softly, once you finally stop being sick, gently resting his palm on your face, skimming your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Sweetheart, how much have you taken?” Ross speaks next, hoping for some sort of response from you, although as he’d expected; nothing.

Instead, you let out a whimper, softly beginning to cry.

“’s alright darlin’,” Matty assures you, continuing to stroke your hair. “I’m here, we’re all here.”

“Did you take all of it, y/n?” Ross tries a different approach, reaching out for the empty syringe that had previously contained the contents of the illegal drug. There was no knowing just how much you had taken but Ross realised he had to consider the worst case scenario — that the syringe had been full.

There’s no answer once again. Unbeknown to what is happening to you at the moment, all you can do is express your dislike at the situation you’re in through a cry and an agitated moan; but at least you’re conscious. You’re alive.

“Hey, ’s ok,” Ross attempts to calm you down. “We’re gonna help you.”

The relief that both the men had felt over you being awake — although not alert — is short lived, however, when your cold and pale body goes limp once more, your breathing shallow as you fade back into unconsciousness against the tiles.

“No,” Matty raises his voice slightly in an attempt to keep you awake. “No, no. Stay with me y/n,” he encourages, gently shaking your frame.

Adam stands from his kneeling position on the floor, talking to the call handler with urgency to make them aware you’d once again slipped into a state of unconsciousness, leaving only the other two men towering over you.

Your lifeless body suddenly goes stiff before your limbs starting jerking and your eyes begin rolling into the back of your head and it takes Matty a few seconds to realise you’re having a seizure. Understanding completely, both Matty and Ross allow your body to move freely, not once restricting your uncontrollable movements.

‘Hann!” Matty shouts.

With Adam acutely aware of the severity of the situation, he passes on the vital information to the call handler once more, explaining that you’re experiencing a seizure. Ross’s eyes flit between everyone in the room; panic being the forefront emotion as your body continues to shake; compassion for Matty as he watches this nightmare unfold; all whilst wishing he could intercept the phone call mid-air to hear what is being said.

“That’s it darling, ride it out,” Matty reassures you. “‘m here, sweetheart, ‘m right here.”

“Fuck,” Ross mutters underneath his breath.

He removes the jacket he had been wearing throughout the course of the evening and places it carefully beneath your head, supporting you against the cold, hard tiles.

“Where’s that bloody ambulance?!” he shouts to Adam, as he checks his watch.

“ETA of ten minutes,” Adam responds without a beat.

“Ten minutes?” Ross questions rhetorically, shaking his head in disbelief, as he notes the time of your continuing seizure by tapping away aggressively on his phone.

“She needs them now!” Matty yells, a sob escaping his lips.

After three minutes, your body begins to regulate itself, your flailing limbs slowing as your previously tense body begins to relax, indicating your seizure had finally come to an end.

“That’s it darling, good girl,” Matty encourages once again. He tentatively reaches out his hand to comb through your hair once again, soothing you as you shiver and whimper against the cold tiles. “‘m right here, darling, ‘m not going anywhere.”

It feels like a lifetime, but after another seven minutes and true to their word, the distant sound of sirens can be heard — but Matty still can’t bring himself to breathe a sigh of relief just yet.

Since arriving at the hospital, you’d been cruelly snatched away from Matty, wheeled to your own private room where you received the treatment needed for a heroin overdose, leaving Matty, Ross and Adam in the family waiting area, none of them able to seek solace amongst the lacklustre slate walls, or the strong smell of disinfectant in the air.

The scene continues to play in Matty’s mind, all too easy to remember. When the paramedics had arrived, they quickly tended to your lifeless body, as the other three men watched on.

The hushed begs of, “Please help her,” and whispered prayers of, “Please please please,” had escaped Matty’s lips as the older female paramedic placed an oxygen mask over your mouth and nose to help your breathing.

She was a seemingly maternal lady, no judgement passed despite it being quickly obvious that you’d taken an illegal substance tonight, and she kindly told Matty, “We’re going to do everything we can to help your girlfriend.”

He didn’t correct her — although if it were different circumstances, he would have taken pride in people assuming you were a couple; as though it was obvious to the outside world that you both have an unbreakable connection to each other.

The younger male paramedic calmly asked questions — some unanswerable — as he began injecting your body with a substance — which Matty assumes is Naloxone; to reverse the effects of the opioid overdose.

What was your name? Which drug had you taken? How much of the drug had you taken? How much alcohol had you had to drink over the course of the evening? Did you have any allergies? How long did your seizure last? How much had you vomited?

Matty could barely think straight as he was being quizzed by the ambulance crew, although it almost felt as though it was an interrogation. The finger of suspicion would probably be pointed at him as to where you’d acquired an illegal drug, but he didn’t care about that right now; his priority was you.

When the paramedics were able to move you to the ambulance, they did, and Matty accompanied you all the way to the the nearest Accident and Emergency Department who would be more equipped to help you, whilst Adam drove himself and Ross to the hospital, following closely behind.

It had been agreed that Charli, George and Carly would stay at home on the understanding that they would be contacted if there was any change to your condition — and having ushered the guests away from the party, sending them elsewhere to continue their celebrations, the three of them were on hand if they were needed at short notice.

“Matty, just … just calm down, yeah?” Ross murmurs.

Matty emits a sarcastic, breathy laugh, continuing to pace aimlessly around the room, having done so since arriving. Running a hand through his curls, something that signals his distress, he repeats the words in a murmur.

“Calm down?” he scoffs, scuffing his shoes against the light grey flooring. “Calm down?!” he raises his voice, turning on his heel to see the other two men sat on the blue cushioned chairs.

“She’s strong, mate,” Adam reassures him, his knee bouncing and indicating his own nervousness at the situation. “She’ll be ok,” he adds, although even he’s having difficulty at being optimistic at this given moment.

“She overdosed,” Matty’s voice cracks, the image of your unconscious body sprawled across the kitchen floor, vomit surrounding you, your body seizing, cruelly plaguing his mind. “She … I thought she was …” he can’t vocalise the word, unable to finish his sentence in fear of it ringing true. “Fuck!” he swears angrily, his bawled fist making contact with the wall.

“Come ‘ere!” Ross yells, using all of his strength to pull Matty away, preventing him from punching the wall a second time. Despite Matty’s pathetic attempt to fight against his friend, fists hammering into his chest, Ross’s large hands come to rest on his face, forcing eye contact between them. “Listen … listen to me!” he encourages in a raised tone. “You need to be strong for her, Matty, y’hear me?” Ross’s own voice is thick with emotion.

Ross embraces Matty as another sob escapes his lips, and not once does he attempt to hide the intense emotions he was battling tonight — fear, worry, and anxiety all at the forefront.

“I shouldn’t …” he breaks off. “She shouldn’t … shouldn’t even … be here,” he chokes out, his obvious distress preventing him from forming a coherent sentence. “’s my fault, ’s all my fault,” he cries into Ross’s shoulder. “All the times I’ve used and I’m still here and she …” but he’s stopped when Ross pulls away from him, resting his hands on Matty’s shoulders.

“Don’t!” he warns, unwilling to comprehend the turn in conversation. “Don’t you fucking dare! This is not your fault! She was … unlucky,” he sighs, closing his eyes briefly, trying to shake the thought. “She went to the wrong person … people …” he furrows his brows, realisation suddenly dawning on him that someone at Charli’s party had taken full advantage of you — your distressed state having seen Matty’s make out session; praying on you and your vulnerability, providing you with an illegal substance you’d never even seen before, let alone experimented with.

It makes him — all of them — feel uneasy that someone had targeted you.

“s not your fault, Matty,” Adam softly pipes up with his reassurances. “Come on, mate. There’s no point in blaming yourself or getting angry, it’s not going to help anyone,” he speaks matter of factly, the voice of reason amongst them, as he anxiously drums his fingertips against his thigh.

“Come on,” Ross encourages him, nodding towards the cushioned chairs and coaxing him to take a seat. Matty does so before Ross offers, “Do you want a coffee?” as he sits beside him.

Matty shakes his head and whisper breathes a quiet, “No.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees before placing his head in his hands. His quiet sobs begin to subside as he finally regains his composure and regulates his breathing. “Fucking hate hospital coffee,” he murmurs in addition, and it’s the first lighthearted comment he’s made all evening.

“She’s gonna be fine,” Ross tells him again, placing a supportive arm around him.

“Thank you,” Matty breathes softly as he looks up and averts his gaze towards Ross next to him, sincerity laced in his tone. “To both of you,” he clarifies, looking between both Ross and Adam.

“What for?” Ross frowns.

“You were there … already helping her,” Matty shrugs, placing his palms against his thighs. “What happened?” he dares to ask, against his better judgement.

Licking his lips, Ross begins, “I’d gone to check on her. She’d been upset and … well, I know George told you,” he tells him, nervously shuffling in his chair. Ross knew better than anyone that Matty would be feeling incredibly guilty right now and to soften the blow, he’d decided to choose his words wisely.

“She saw me,” Matty confirms.

Ross nods his reply.

“She’d seen you in the lounge with … well, whoever it was,” he acknowledges the existence of the brunette woman. “I managed to get y/n out of there. Carly and Adam took her to the kitchen to calm her down. I caught up with George and Charli. The next thing I knew, I went to kitchen to find her again but she was alone.”

Ross shakes his head, and runs an agitated hand over his face, a feeble attempt at ridding himself of the horrific memory that vividly replays in his mind.

“She was stumbling around, trying to steady her balance against the kitchen side. She was muttering away, talking to herself … she didn’t make any sense,” Ross takes an in-breath before continuing. “I asked her if she was alright. I thought maybe she’d been drinking more, you know? She kept saying your name, said she needed to find you. That’s when she collapsed,” he clarifies. “I couldn’t wake her. At first I thought it was the alcohol that had affected her; made her paralytic. Everyone was looking so I wanted to move her to somewhere more comfortable. That’s when you came in,” he nods towards Adam.

“I saw it straight away,” Adam sighs regrettably, before clarifying his statement and briefly describing the events that had occurred. “The needle was on the kitchen side, the bag was empty, and there was a spoon and lighter next to it. We realised then what she’d done, so I phoned the ambulance. They said it was safer to keep her on the ground where she was, put her in the recovery position and not to move her. We made her as comfortable as we could … and that’s when Carly came and got you.”

Matty’s eyes begin to pool with tears again, his vision clouded as he can only imagine all too easily how the scene had played out. He feels sick with worry over you; guilty and ashamed at his own actions which had acted as a catalyst; and intense rage at whoever dealt the drug to you tonight.

“If she’d injected, it meant she’d cooked it …” Adam speaks aloud.

“I’ve never shown her how …” Matty trails off as he defends himself. “I never had that stuff around her.”

“We know, mate,” Ross reassures him. “You would never do anything to put her in harms way.”

“What if she gets addicted now?” Matty asks in a whisper, fear evident in his voice.

“She won’t,” Ross replies confidently.

“How can you be so sure?” he asks.

“You know her, mate. Just this once would have terrified her enough to never touch it again. She never used anything before and tonight would have been a one off. She probably met the wrong bastard tonight who took advantage. She probably thought that one time wouldn’t hurt her; that she’d be lucky,” he bases his assumption on how well he knows you.

Leaning back in his chair and resting his head against the wall, Matty closes his eyes. Bouncing his knee nervously, he draws a deep in-breath before murmuring, “I don’t want her going through the same thing as me. All I ever wanted to do was protect her from it. It was … different for me, I guess. It’s like I fell down a rabbit hole — the first time I took it and could disassociate from life — it was like a release. And I know it put a lot of pressure on us as a band, but …”

“Mate, you had an addiction. You were ill,” Adam intervenes, comforting his friend as whole new can of worms is about to be exposed about one of the worst times they’d experienced in their career as a band; but first and foremost, within their friendship.

“Didn’t mean I had to push her away, though,” Matty whispers. “I was so lucky when I went to rehab. Some people in that place had nothing; they’d lost their family and friends, their homes, their jobs, their money. I had everything; my family, you guys, I had her. But I still left rehab and scored other drugs and fucked everything up anyway,” he sighs deeply, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, mate,” Ross pipes up, resting a hand on Matty’s knee.

“She was always there for me,” Matty continues. “I just couldn’t be the boyfriend she needed me to be, but if I could go back and do it all again, I would do things so differently,” he whispers. “I should never have let her go.”

“Sounds like we’re not the ones you should be saying this to,” Adam half smiles.

Matty bites his lip, his thoughts running away with him as a comfortable silence fills the room.

He notes that his white dress shirt is still unbuttoned three from the top and the memory of the sordid make out session he had encountered earlier that night makes him feel queasy, a harsh reminder of the tragedy.

“How … how did you know what to do anyway?” Matty stutters as he clears his throat, breaking the quietness that had temporarily engulfed them.

Ross shrugs, leaning back in his chair and running a hand through his hair before replying.

“I guess … well … we all kind of wanted to learn how to respond in that … situation … incase it was ever … you,” he’s careful with his words. Whilst Matty’s addiction had never been an attempt on his own life, the idea of an accidental overdose had spurred the rest of the band on recognising the signs, as well as the basics in how to respond to any such situation.

Although honesty was a crucial part of their friendship, talking about Matty’s heroin addiction had always been a difficult subject to approach. The illness had taken a toll on his physical and mental health, had destructed his relationships, and had negatively impacted his song writing. Rehab helped him get back to the person he once was before the addiction.

“I fucking love you guys,” Matty manages to choke out around the lump that formed in his throat at the turn in conversation, and for the first time this evening, he smiles a genuine smile.

With the small distance between the two of them sitting opposite each other, Adam, with his arms crossed firmly over his chest, gently taps his foot against Matty’s — and it’s a minor physical touch that would usually result in a game of footsies between the pair — only this time, it’s a reassuring nudge that would normally be a wordless indication of their feelings; but Adam finds it within him to vocalise an emotional, “We love you too, mate.”

As quickly as the three men succumb to another comfortable silence, it’s broken once again, with Ross not wanting to give Matty the opportunity to get too into his head with the lack of conversation between them, understanding his friend well enough to know he’d be imagining all sorts of scenarios — none of which likely to be positive.

“Do you need to go for a cig?” Ross asks.

“No,” Matty shakes his head — and it’s a shock to both the other men in the room. Someone who seemingly can’t go five minutes without a cigarette during a live performance actively turning down the vice he uses each day. “Don’t want t’ leave her,” he adds.

Almost as if on cue, a doctor donning a white coat and firmly gripping a clipboard with important documents attached in his large hands, enters the family room and introduces himself to all three men.

He shakes hands with Matty, who is the first to approach him.

Matty quickly fires questions at the medical professional, not once missing a beat as he barely catches his breath in between the queries about your health.

“How is she? Is she ok? Can I see her?”

Ross comes to stand behind him and rests a supportive hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze, to remind him of his friends’ presence — and that he’s not alone.

The doctor gives a reassuring smile, the first giveaway that your outcome is a positive one.

“I am sorry to tell you that y/n did in fact overdose on heroin; we’re yet to determine if that was intentional or accidental. The paramedics on scene administered Naloxone to reverse the effect of the opioid but another dose was required since fentanyl was also present. That combined with the level of alcohol in her system caused the severe reaction tonight, making it much easier to overdose, which is why it took her longer to respond to treatment.”

Matty groans at the information. The thought of you having mixed three substances together, although likely unknowingly, has him feeling physically sick at your vulnerability; and someone else’s cruelty.

“Fuck,” he shakily mutters under his breath, knowing just how severe this is. Shaking his head, he murmurs a quiet, “Sorry,” before allowing the doctor to continue with his medical findings.

“Since there’s no medical history of y/n experiencing seizures, it’s more than likely that it was brought on by the drug itself. Taking that into account, there doesn’t seem to be any reason as to why y/n won’t make a full recovery so overall I’d say she’s very lucky,” he pauses, before looking between the three men. “She’s awake, but is still a little drowsy, which is to be expected. I’d still like to keep her in for observation overnight, just as a precaution,” he says.

Whilst Matty understands the importance and necessity of this monologue, it seems to take forever for the doctor to spiel medical jargon, before he finally speaks aloud the words that Matty longs to hear.

“You can go and see her.”

It takes a few minutes for Matty to pluck up the courage to enter your hospital room to see you, his palms beginning to sweat out of anxiousness and his heart occasionally skipping a beat. He’d been desperate to remain by your side since arriving at the hospital, a strong desire to interfere with the doctors and nurses that had tended to your lifeless body, almost as though he could be the one to cure you.

Questions plague his mind as he runs through several scenarios.

Would you even want to see him after the events that had built up to your accidental overdose tonight? After all, if he hadn’t been so concerned with getting his end away with a random, then you wouldn’t have felt the need to find a vice to cope with your feelings. He was the reason you were here — and he’s probably the last person you want to see.

What would he say to you? No words in the English language could be vocalised to condone his behaviour this evening. Sadly, your latest memory of him was a sordid, dirty, not-so-secret make out session in the corner of a room — not very classy, and not in the least bit romantic. Sorry seemed false; even though he was undeniably apologetic, but no amount of regret could rewind the clock, no matter how much he wished for it.

Running a hand over his face, he rids himself of any negative thoughts, composing himself. He had to stop being selfish; to remove any egotistical notion of himself. This wasn't about him anymore. This was about you.

He takes a deep breath before placing his hand on the doorknob. He pushes it gently so that the door is fractionally ajar, so as not to startle you, and then, almost impatiently, he extends his arm, opening the door fully to reveal you to him.

His eyes find you immediately. Your fragile figure lays still in the hospital bed, looking almost helpless and it saddens Matty to see because he knows how much you would hate that. He avoids reacting to your demeanour, not wishing to alarm you.

Still, you were conscious.

“Hey,” he whisper breathes a sigh of relief, giving you a small smile. “You look better than when I last saw you,” Matty tells you softly, as he comes to stand at the end of your hospital bed, his patent shoes clicking against the tiles when he halts.

Hands in his pockets, he looks rough; you note; as though he hasn’t slept in weeks. The stubble around his jawline denotes he hasn't shaved in the last couple of weeks at least, most likely due to tour commitments. His dishevelled hair is a solid indicator that he’s run his hand through it many times — or someone else has — and perhaps it's because you haven’t seen him in a while — or maybe it’s because he’s mid-thirties — but the grey strands are becoming more prominent atop of his head.

He drags his bottom lip between his teeth, anxiously, although attentively, observing your surroundings. Monitors bleep around you, screens recording your vitals — numbers that mean absolutely nothing to him — but the consistency that the machines offer indicates that you must be within healthy ranges. Bags of liquid are hanging on a drip stand and IV’s are inserted into your veins pumping unknown substances into your body.

Removing a hand from his pocket, he nervously clears his throat as he slowly makes his way around the bed and towards you, before finally stopping beside you. Tentatively, he lowers himself and perches on the edge of the bed, the mattress sinking slightly beneath his weight.

Even in your drowsy state, lethargy consuming your entire body, you roll your eyes at his comment and Matty’s never been happier to hear a breathy laugh escape your lips. Reaching for the oxygen mask, you attempt to remove it, but Matty’s hand is quickly placed over yours, stopping you from doing so.

“No, no, keep it on darling,” he whispers delicately.

Your lack of energy, consumed by tiredness, as well as the the throbbing pain across your forehead ensures you don’t fight him on this one, instantly giving up, your hand going slack underneath his. Satisfied that you won’t oppose his actions any further, he rests his hand against his thigh.

Matty’s eyes avert to your other hand which rests atop of the hospital blanket. He’s somewhat hesitant before deciding to reach towards you, his fingertips brushing against your skin, careful not to dislodge the drip inserted into a prominent vein. When you don’t flinch at the physical contact, he encloses your hand within his own.

Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes, as though his admission will be more bearable to speak aloud if he can’t see your reaction.

“I was so scared,” he whispers.

He opens his eyes again, drinking in your exhausted demeanour.

“I was so fucking scared,” he repeats, with equally as much conviction as the first time.

“Matty,” you whisper tearfully at his words, your tone apologetic.

“Never wan’ to see you like that ever again, you hear me? You … you don’t get to do that,” his words are a firm warning but he lacks any threat with a soft tone, an oxymoron of emotions engulfing him as his voice wavers, his thumb skimming the upside of your hand. “You don’t get to do that to me. Can’t lose you darling.”

He swallows the lump that’s formed in his throat. Metaphorically, he’d already lost you in the midst of a relationship breakdown — but the mere thought of you losing your life to the same substance he had battled an addiction with for several years would literally break him.

You reach for your oxygen mask once again, and when Matty attempts to prevent you from doing so a second time, you swat his hand away — albeit pathetically — removing it from your face.

“I didn’t mean to,” you desperately try to convince him. “It was an accident,” you tell him, tears pooling in your eyes.

One of the machines begins to beep harshly, the numbers displayed on the screen increasing rapidly, and Matty immediately realises that your heart rate has spiked.

Determined to soothe you, Matty reassuringly squeezes your hand.

“I know, darling. I know. Just calm down for me, yeah?” he encourages, leaning forward to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You offer a small nod in response although his words seem to have no positive effect as the bleeping continues with the same level of consistency, numbers incessantly and hastily increasing.

“Listen to me, y/n,” his tone is firmer this time, obvious desperation laced in his words. “I need you to calm down for me. Take a deep breath,” he models it himself, inhaling air deeply into his lungs through his nose and exhaling through his parted lips.

You copy him, mirroring his actions a few times.

“If you need this again,” he gestures towards the oxygen mask but you shake your head as your breathing begins to regulate a little and the numbers on the heart rate monitor gradually decrease once more.

“No, no, I’m fine,” you assure him.

He nods, understanding, but encourages you to continue, “Deep breaths, love.”

You compose yourself relatively quickly, almost surprised at your own resilience as you inhale and exhale a few more times, steadying your breaths and repeating the action until you’re fully calm.

“That’s it,” he praises, stroking your hand with his own, whilst his other hand finds its fingers twirling through your hair, stroking loose strands out of your face.

He takes a few moments, allowing you to succumb to the peace that surrounds you both — but he has questions and he yearns for answers.

“Do you think you can tell me what happened tonight?” he practically dares to ask.

You shift uncomfortably beneath the thin blanket that covers you, barely keeping you warm. Taking a deep breath, you nod, nervousness consuming you as you brace yourself, preparing to inform Matty about the events that had occurred earlier that evening.

“I saw you,” you state matter of factly, although it’s not news to him. “You were with someone … another girl,” you clarify.

Your gaze subconsciously averts away from Matty’s but out of the corner of your eye, you’re hyperaware that he also follows suit, unable to make eye contact with each other at the harsh admission. Your cheeks redden slightly in embarrassment, whilst his features are full of guilt.

“I saw you coming out of the bathroom together at first. I didn’t realise it was serious, not until … well, I came down to the lounge and you were … the two of you were …” you trail off, fiddling with the hospital admission band around your wrist that suddenly becomes interesting.

The pads of Matty’s thumbs gently massage your skin, encouraging you to continue. Raising his head and meeting your gaze, you’re able to find the strength to carry on.

“I was upset and didn’t want to feel anything. I’d had a lot to drink but that wasn’t numbing the pain. So when I was offered heroin,” you shrug. “It never affected you that way so I thought … I thought I’d be ok,” you whimper, your bottom lip trembling.

“Darling,” Matty whispers, his thumb gently soothing your skin as your hand remains enveloped in his. “It affects everyone differently. There’s so many factors that affect someone’s reaction to drugs — the amount you’ve taken, it’s purity, what it’s cut with, the method of using …” he begins to list.

“I know, I know,” you shake your head, cutting him off.

You already felt foolish enough for ever trusting the guy you’d met tonight in the kitchen — felt embarrassed that many people had seen you unconscious against the cold tiles, vomiting and experiencing a seizure. Whilst you know it’s not Matty’s intention, the last thing you want — or need — is a lecture.

Instantly understanding, Matty drops the topic as quick as he'd raised it, and instead, decides to pass on the good news.

“The doctor says you’re lucky; reckons you’ll make a full recovery. You just need to rest,” he breathes a sigh of relief himself as his sentence rolls effortlessly off of his tongue.

Your ears prick up at his words and you give him a hopeful smile.

“Does that mean I can go home?” you ask, suddenly sitting yourself upright, ignoring the pounding in your head accompanied by the dizziness, in turn making you feel a little nauseous.

Home.

Matty wonders where home is for you now.

In an ideal world, Matty would want you living with him again — reliving your favourite memories that you experienced as the couple you once were when you were unconditionally in love with each other, as well as making new ones together.

You’d be waking up in his bed each morning; sometimes to sex, always to coffee, with mundane household chores threatening to be completed as adulthood entailed cooking, cleaning, tag teaming washing the dishes, and starting petty arguments over whose turn it was to dispose of the rubbish on bin day (it was his turn every week).

He would give the world and more to have you telling him that you don’t mind what film you watched together — even though you did — only for you to fall asleep within minutes of putting it on. He would ensure that you have warm, fluffy towels for after your bubble bath, and you’d be welcomed into the kitchen with the inviting aromas of your favourite dishes that he’d cook for you.

Matty would keep you safe — always — keeping a watchful eye over you so as something like this could never occur again, giving not one single soul the opportunity to hurt his girl — and the realisation dawns on him that perhaps one of his downfalls was that no matter how hard he tried in this lifetime, he couldn’t protect you from everything.

“They want to keep you in overnight,” he breaks the bad news to you, regrettably.

“No,” you whine, emitting a groan as you roll your eyes to the ceiling.

“‘m sorry, love,” his tone is apologetic, “But they want to monitor you.”

“Please, Matty. I’m fine! Please see if they will discharge me tonight,” you beg, your doe-eyes pleading with him.

“Darling,” he murmurs softly, stroking your hand reassuringly once again. “You overdosed on heroin, which was cut with fentanyl, by the way,” he informs you, before continuing matter of factly, “Your alcohol levels were through the roof, you had a seizure and you were sick. You’re in the best place right now.”

There was truth behind Matty’s words and you know it. Admitting defeat, you know there’s no arguing against the doctor’s decision to monitor you overnight.

Instead, you ask, “Stay?” your tone nervous, as you softly plead with Matty. “Will you stay with me?”

Matty exhales a shaky breath, offering a small smile as relief washes over him that you want him; need him.

“Of course I’ll stay, ‘m not going anywhere.”

There’s not much time to succumb to the silence that threatens to engulf the two of you as a hesitant knock, accompanied by a throat-clearing cough, can be heard against the grey door to your hospital room. Straining your neck and peering towards the entrance, you notice two figures lingering in the doorway, one of which is leaning against the doorframe.

Matty whips his head around to see who the disruption is, before turning back to meet your gaze and announcing with a small smile, “I think someone want to say hello.”

As if on cue, Ross and Adam enter your hospital bay and approach you. Coming to stand beside you, Ross acknowledges you with a small kiss to your temple and Adam rests a hand atop of your hospital blanket, reassuringly squeezing your leg.

“How’re doing?” Adam is the first to ask, as they each take a seat in the grey plastic chairs beside your bed.

You give a small nod and shrug in tandem.

“I’m ok,” you tell them — although even you know that they know that you’re not being entirely truthful so you decide to elaborate on your answer further, providing them with some honesty at least. “I’m tired and have a headache, but other than that I’m alright.”

“You scared us back there,” Ross pipes up, worry evident in his tone.

“I’m sorry,” your eyes avert to your hand enveloped in Matty’s.

“Don’t be,” Ross softly murmurs, shaking his head and resting a hand atop of your arm.

You shake your head in protest.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that,” you tell them apologetically, sincerely adding, “I’m sorry that you had to deal with me like that.” You shake your head slightly, closing your eyes for a brief second as embarrassment consumes you.

“’s not your fault,” Ross tells you. “We’re just glad you’re ok.”

“Thank you,” your eyes flit between the three of them this time, acutely aware of the vital role they had all played tonight in getting you the help you needed from the emergency services. You can only imagine how terrifying and surreal the ordeal must have been for them as well.

“Don’t need to thank us,” Matty furrows his brows.

“If you hadn’t …” you begin. “I’d be dead,” you state it so matter of factly, that Matty feels physically ill.

“Don’t, y/n,” he gently warns, unable to fathom any other outcome.

Silence fills the room, further accentuating the bleeping sounds of the machines that whir around you. For the first time, it’s an awkward quietness, seemingly uncomfortable between the four of you once the discussion had taken a darker turn.

However, there’s still one more topic of conversation dancing on the lips of the three men amongst you but nobody has seemed willing to take the lead in voicing their thoughts just yet — that is until Ross clears his throat, less confident than he actually appears as he delivers his question.

“Who gave it to you?” he asks, a strong desire to know who dealt you the drug.

“I don’t know,” you shrug.

“Please, y/n,” Matty begs breathlessly, his eyes finding the ceiling. “Please don’t protect anyone,” he pleads, the pad of his thumb continuously circling itself against your hand.

“I don’t know,” you repeat. “Honestly. It was a random guy who got talking to me. I didn’t even ask his name.”

Your earnest tone is all that’s needed for them to know you’re telling the truth; you’d just been unfortunate enough for your vulnerable self to fall victim to the dealer this evening, him cruelly having taken full advantage of your distressed state.

"If I ever find out who it was," Matty begins, using his free hand to clench his fist out of anger.

“Don’t,” you practically beg, shaking your head. “Please don’t. It was my own fault. I should never have listened to him or trusted him in the first place. It was a bad idea and I knew it. I just went against my own judgement in the heat of the moment and acted on impulse.”

Whilst you knew how it appeared, you really weren’t defending the dealer who had provided you with the substance and tools that could have resulted in you ending your life tonight — but the last thing you wanted was violence. Neither Matty, Ross or Adam had fighting tendencies and that wasn’t about to change because of you and your one mistake.

Ross sniggers slightly, before raising an eyebrow as he looks between you and Matty.

“Impulse? You two really are perfect for each other,” he laughs.

You roll your eyes at the humour implied in his light hearted comment. It was public knowledge that Matty would often find himself in hot water due to acting on impulse, often through the portrayal of an online persona, or through expressing controversies during live performance and interviews.

You had often scolded him during your relationship, heavily reminded him of his role model status to many young and impressionable fans, because his words had consequences, often resulting in him being ‘cancelled.’

Before you can respond, another small knock at the door indicates an interruption for the second time — saddened when the nurse on call entered the room and informed you that only one person could be at your bedside for the remainder of the night.

Adam emits a groan, admitting defeat once the nurse bids you farewell for the night, although not before reminding both you and Matty that she’s on duty throughout the course of the early hours and until sunrise, so if you needed anything, she was your go-to.

“Suppose we best be off then,” Adam rolls his eyes.

“You take care,” Ross offers you a smile and presses a gentle kiss to your temple. “See you soon, mate,” he reaches forwards and offers Matty a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You look after her,” he finishes his goodbyes.

Once the hustle and bustle of them leaving your hospital room subsides, you and Matty are left only in each other's company, surrounded by a comfortable silence once more.

Your eyes avert to the window of your hospital room as you observe the outside world, nothing but darkness consuming everything at this ungodly hour, with the exception of the few street lamps that light up the hospital car park that your room overlooks.

With your hand still enveloped within Matty’s, you can feel his eyes focussing on you — and you alone.

“I’m ok,” you whisper softly, turning to Matty, distracting him from his own thoughts.

“Hmm?” he hums, indicating that he had been out of touch with reality. Your statement had grounded him, bringing him mentally back into the room with you as he looks up to meet your gaze.

“I said I’m ok,” you repeat, and it’s your turn to massage the palm of his hand with your thumb, reassuring him you are physically well — and alive.

He nods in acknowledgement but it’s clear he has a lot plaguing his mind. You decide not to push him just yet, knowing him well enough that he’ll communicate his thoughts and feelings on his terms, although you're surprised when his response comes almost immediately.

“I thought …,” Matty exhales a shaky breath, tears pooling in his eyes, “I thought I’d lost you.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologise, your bottom lip trembles, the heightened emotions you’re both feeling needing to be addressed with each other properly. There was still so much to say, so many things you had to discuss, questions that had to be asked, answers that needed clarifying.

Matty shakes his head vigorously, stopping you from continuing your apology.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” his tone is full of sincerity. “I just need you to know that … if I’d lost you … I don’t know what I’d do.”

He chokes on a sob, the memory of your unconscious body sprawled across the kitchen floor still haunting him — and he fears that your lifeless frame will appear in his nightmares every time he closes his eyes. Bringing your hand up to his lips, he presses a soft and tender kiss against your skin.

“I love you,” he murmurs.

“Matty,” you breathe, comprehending his words immediately.

“I love you so much, darling,” he whispers.

“I love you too,” you reply, barely missing a beat.

He knew it were true; you didn’t say things you didn’t mean.

“I’m sorry if I ever … that I let you down,” he adds — and it’s not a comment out of guilt or pity for himself. It’s an apology to you — an earnest admission, honest and sincere, as he recalls the times when he hadn’t been the boyfriend he should have been for you.

“You haven’t,” you whimper, choking on a sob, emotion overcoming you at the sudden change in dynamic of the conversation. “Matty, you never let me down. You had an addiction! I know that you came off the heroin after rehab but you were still battling a drug addiction. You still needed something to get through life, a vice to help you cope. If anything, I’m sorry that I didn’t recognise the signs sooner and get you help.”

“Darling,” Matty gently warns.

Whilst he understands the importance of this much needed conversation between the two of you, it’s a topic he doesn’t want to explore too deeply just yet — there’s plenty of time to discuss everything that had contributed to the breakdown of your relationship but right now, you needed to focus on your own recovery from tonight.

“Not now, eh?” it’s a rhetorical comment.

Before he can stop himself, he leans forward, resting his forehead gently against your own. It’s the closest he’s been all night and you can still smell the smoke that lingers on his clothes; the warmth of his breath fanning your cheeks each time he softly exhales. He feels like home. His eyes avert downwards towards his hand intertwined with your own in his lap — and it feels right.

“We have a lot to talk about,” you whisper, breaking the silence, your lips a hairs breadth from his.

Nervously gulping, as though an in love, giddy teenager, Matty agrees.

“Yeah, we do. But it can wait, darling. You need to rest.”

You shake your head, a feeble attempt at protesting against his suggestion.

“Rest, sweetheart,” he reiterates. “We can talk about everything tomorrow, yeah?”

You both know you won’t. Matty will still want to give you time to recover, waiting on you hand and foot, treating you as though you’re made of glass for at least the next month — but you don’t actually think you’d mind.

“I’ll still be here. I’m not going anywhere,” he reaches forwards, resting his palm gently against your cheek.

Muscle memory, instinct, and habit amalgamate and you tilt your head towards his hand, leaning into his soft touch on your face. The welcomed familiarity makes your heart swell as he cradles your cheek. Inching forwards ever so slightly, Matty presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his soft, plush lips lingering against your skin for longer than necessary — but you weren't complaining.

“‘m not going anywhere,” he repeats quietly, emotion thick in his voice as he swallows the small lump that has formed in his throat, his brain in overdrive as he contemplates the magnitude of events that had occurred tonight.

“You promise?” you question, as you raise your hand to cover his own, your fingers intertwining with his against your blush cheeks.

“I promise.”

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tillthelandslide · 8 months

Text

Same For You (5) : Changing Roads

Series Warnings: slow burn romance, eventual smut, age gap, complicated relationship (low-key unhealthy dynamics), eventual love...

Series Masterlist

Same For You (4)

Taglist: @scooby-doodoo @thereisaplaceintheheart @theoriginalwhatsername @eaglestar31 (if you want to be added please just drop me a message 🫶🏼)

a/n: here it issssss as promise.... managed to sort out the timeline error i made, part 6 is ready to post and by god its a good'n, i'll be posting it once this has 100 notes. Let me know what you think :) thank u for all the support so far, i love you all! - Lou

Her dark green guitar sat in its case as she carried it down the streets of London, eyes flicking in-between her phone and the cobblestones below her. She was trying not to trip over her feet as she walked faster than her feet would usually allow her. It was cold in London, but the sun was cutting through the clouds, soft rays hitting the ground below her, illuminating the dark stone floor. Crisp leaves of orange and brown and yellow, gently glided beneath her as her feet moved. When her shoes would fall against them they'd make a delightful crunch and she'd unknowingly smile at the sound.

Her phone rings in her hand, she smiles as she reads the name Matty put in her phone, rolling her eyes and reminding herself to change it (if not just to annoy him) she quickly picks up.

"Everything okay love?" She hears on the other side of the line, he sounds worried and she pulls the phone away from her ear, checking the time.

Shit, she was 15 minutes late.

Her happy bubble that this time of year created burst around her and pressure and anxiety crept in.

"Yeah yeah, um all good....I'm so sorry, I'm running late, I thought I'd walk instead of getting an Uber but... I'm a bit lost" she says, looking around her, trying to find something that would tell her where she was.

"Hey love it's okay. Just breathe okay? Send me your location, I'll come find you" he says. He finds her just over 5 minutes later, and she feels her nerves ease when she sees him.

He's dressed the most casually she's seen him so far, adorning a pair of black jeans and a black knit jumper, his hair not tamed by gel and sitting unruly on the top of his head. Of course he has a fag in hand, smiling as he walks towards her, he throws the cigarette to the floor a few steps away from her, opening his arms when he's closer.

She places her guitar case down and steps into his arms, sighing happily when he hugs her tightly. Her eyes squeeze shut, just wanting to be present with him, to be swept away in Matty, shutting the world out for a few moments.

"Hi sweetheart" he says, pulling back when he's done hugging her, still holding onto her shoulders gently. She wears a pair of blue wide leg denim jeans and she's wearing his hoodie under a long leather coat, which makes him smile widely. His mind floods with images of her, in his house, adorning that same hoodie or one similar, in his mind he's able to step forward and pick her up, her legs would hook around his waist as he spun her, she'd giggle and she'd pull away, and maybe... maybe she'd lean down and kiss him.

He forces the thought to the back of his mind, reminding himself that he couldn't think that way. It doesn't stop him from saying part of what was on his mind.

"Well don't you look adorable" he says making her smile. She looks down at the jumper, hands moving to tug at the hem of it.

"I figured wearing it was easier than carrying it" she explains and he nods. He watches as her eyes flick to his hair and she shows a toothy grin.

"I like this" she reaches her hand up to his hair, palm flat as she moves it across his hair, making him chuckle. She was surprised to feel how soft his hair was. He simply smiles, he doesn't thank her, his smile says it for him.

"Studio is this way, the guys will be joining us a little later" he says and she nods, he picks up the case for her, leading the way to the studio. The trip there isn't too far, a few twists and turns away and they're walking up the steps of the studio. Matty types in the code, allowing them into the building and he leads her upstairs into their own private room.

"I can take your coat if you'd like, it gets quite warm in here" Matty extends his hand, hoping she'd give it to him so he could see her clad in his jumper again. He can't help but smile widely as she slips it off and hands it to him, quickly retrieving her phone from the pocket before he takes it away.

He's in awe of her as she walks around the room, mumbling the name of the items, even the makes of some, standing before the microphone and gasping. He's entranced by the way he hair drifts behind her, as if it is failing to catch up with her movements. He finds the way her face holds a cute little smile endearing. He looks at her and he feels like he's known her for a lifetime.

"This is some fancy shit" he laughs at her words, coming to stand closer to her, overwhelmed by the way her scent occupies all of him, all his senses and the deep corners of his mind, she creeps in with it, seeping into his pores without an ounce of knowing... Unaware that she's doing it. But by god does she do it. She takes up all of him, and the guilt that befalls his being is too much of a burden to carry, so he pushes it down slightly (a lot), with the argument that he will deal with it later. The thought of how Ross would feel about this can be dealt with later. He knew his best friend and it was obvious he fancied her.

Did that make him a bad friend? He thinks, later he thinks.

"We only work with the best of the best here... Present company included" her eyes find his and almost glisten under the lights, taking his breath away. His eyes flick to her lips... No Matty.... Don't he thinks.

"Careful Matty.... I might think you're flirting with me" she wishes she would think before she thinks, they were the same that way. They acted on impulse sometimes.

I am, he thinks

There's a moment of silence from the man, a moment where she thinks she's nearly fucked it, but then he's laughing and she's smiling and everything returns to normal.

"Seriously though Matty, this stuff is impressive" she says, walking over to a piano that was positioned in the corner of the room.

"You play?" So far he had only seen her play guitar and he wouldn't have been surprised if she was multi versed.

"I do yeah... My big brother taught me when I was like..." She pauses, fingers drifting along the keys but not pressing down, eyes flicking up to Matty who was standing directly in front of the piano now.

"Four?" She questions, sitting down on the stool as her fingers finally press down on the keys and she plays a familiar tune. He chuckles and rolls his eyes as she begins playing 'The 1975' off of their recent album. She laughs and her fingers halt on the keys.

"Kidding kidding..." She then begins playing another familiar song, another one of theirs, "Mine". He watches her as her fingers move effortlessly across the ivories, gently caressing the keys as if they'd break if she'd apply more pressure. It somehow made the sound ring out more peacefully, a song that he wrote and already thought was quite sweet sounded sweeter when played by her.

Her eyes find his and she pauses, smiling a shy smile up at him, tucking a piece of hair that had slipped in front of her eyes behind her ear.

"Do you know my entire discography off by heart darling?" He says, voice full of awe and wonder. Eyes just the same. The pet name has her blushing and her mouth opens slightly before she forces herself to shut it again and answer his question.

"Maybe..." She says, giggling after her words have rung out, making him smile widely, a small crease appearing at the side of his lips on his cheeks, and his eyes almost sparkling.

"Sing me one of yours..." He leans against the edge of the piano, placing an elbow on the surface as his head fits into the palm of his hand, eagerly awaiting for her to play something. He looks like a kid like this, the sight makes her heart ache, she wish she knew him when he was younger, despite it being impossible given the age gap. She couldn't help but think they would've gotten along even as kids.

"Okay well... This is something I wrote with Jay, our drummer" she reminds him, Matty nods. The truth is, although he was sometimes forgetful,he wouldn't forget a single thing she told him, he couldn't, she had captivated him.

"Do you write with him a lot?" Matty asks out of curiosity.

"Not really... I mostly write on my own... Sometimes Clara and Abbie will help me with a verse or two. I prefer writing alone" she explains and Matty can't help but let out a little "oh" at the revelation.

"Why's that?"

"Less scrutiny I guess... It took me a lot to get to the point where I don't scrumple up the pages and throw them away... My lyrics make me cringe sometimes" Matty laughs as she does, not able to help the sound that comes from him, not when when she's laughing. Then he realises she's deflecting again and he frowns.

"Okay show me" he says and she begins playing a song. It's a simple melodic structure, quite bare and vulnerable. But he feels it doesn't need much else apart from that, not when she closes her eyes and begins to sing. Matty hears the door open and swings his head around to see Ross.

He's early.

He places a finger against his lips and ushers him inside. The tall man tries his hardest to walk quietly, flinching when a floorboard creaks. But y/n is too engrossed in her song to hear.

"I was a child of the night, Praying for a guiding light, Living in a world of black and white , I wish for the day that I might, Be set free and allowed to take flight" she sings, her voice is almost ethereal as she sings, it's almost as if she transcends to something more when she sings and they're more enthralled by it.

"The sky is turning grey, The stars begin to fade away, On the wings of yesterday, We are all condemned to fate, There's no hiding place in your grave" she finishes, fingers halting on the keys and eyes slowly fluttering back open. She almost swears when she sees Ross standing next to Matty.

"Wow" they both say in unison and she blushes deeply.

"Hi to you too" her words are directed at Ross and he smiles down at her. Her heart is picking up at the sight of him, and there it is again, Ross, taking over her entire being. Her eyes fall to those hands and she struggles to tear them away.

"That was amazing, really beautiful" his words have her blushing deeper and she looks away, feeling exposed under the both of their stares.

"Thanks" she says awkwardly, standing from the piano, walking towards the man.

"Hi" he says, looking down at her and placing his arms around her shoulders for a quick hug. They pull away far too quickly for either of their liking, but what with Matty staring at them, it had to be done.

"So what did you think Matty?" She ask, turning back to the curly haired man who still stands, mouth agape.

"I don't think it's going to get better than that... I think just the piano and your vocals is all that track needs" he says, his producer brain taking over and making her laugh.

"It was beautiful y/n" he then says, making her smile.

Her phone rings from where it's tucked away into Matty's jumper. Ross' attention is then drawn to the fabric, unable to help the unsettling jealousy that runs through his body.

"Hi Ab" he hears her say.

His eyes flick back to Matty, who takes in his best friend's look and frowns, mouthing a (maybe feigned) innocent "what?" to the man.

Ross simply shakes his head, looking back to Y/n who is talking on the phone.

"Oh really?" Her eyes flick to the guys and she pulls the phone from her ear "apparently Abbie, Clara and Jay ran into George at some coffee place, they're round the corner" she explains the both of them nod.

"Okay... Perfect... See you in 5. Love you bye" she says, hanging up after that.

"I'll go down to let them in, need a fag anyway" Matty explains, leaving the bassist and y/n alone. She walks over to her guitar case, unzipping it and carrying it over to a leather sofa in the studio, placing it in her lap.

Ross is still standing in the centre of the room and she can't quite sense how he's feeling, but his eyes are trained on her. She taps the space next to her, smiling up at him. He comes to join her then, watching as she tunes the guitar easily.

"Pretty guitar" he says.

"Thanks... My brother brought it for my birthday about 6 years ago" she explains "I had a light blue one before that... Still have it actually, just prefer this one... Feels more special to me"

"Seems like you're brother is quite the musician himself then" Ross says making her smile.

"Practically taught me everything I know... Apart form bass... As I said before... couldn't hack it" she says, strumming the strings to make sure it was in tune.

"I remember... Tiny hands" he says making her laugh again, his hand brushing against hers but not holding it. He couldn't.

"Is he good? Your brother?" He asks.

"Why? Scared he's better than you Macdonald" she teases. She doesn't feel a pang in her chest when she speaks about him, not like she used to.

"Never" she laughs at that, tilting her head back. He swears his heart skips a beat at the sight, her hair wafting against her shoulders and sending a wave of her scent his way. She smelt like vanilla and orange blossom and coffee and white flowers and fresh linen and something he couldn't pinpoint. Something he had never smelt before, something so uniquely her and he was addicted.

"Yeah he's great, taught me how to play piano and guitar... god awful voice though" she says, joking and making him laugh again. She swears she'd do anything to make him laugh, anything to watch the way his eyes crease and those dimples appear.

"We can't all do it all like you y/n" he says making her roll her eyes.

"Don't flatter me Macdonald... Give me your bass and I'll show you how bad I can be" a deafening silence rings after that as they both take in her words. Words that really didn't mean to sound so... Sexual. His mind clouds with sinful images, images of her, mouth agape, head thrown back, him in-between her thighs as her nails claw his back.

She can't help but imagine her on her knees for him, looking up at him through her lashes as he grips the back of her head. Considering the amount of times she had told herself that they couldn't, her mind clearly had other opinions on it.

Their mouths fall open for one second, two seconds, three seconds, four seconds. Before they're both clutching their stomachs as they laugh loudly, willing away the unholy thoughts they were previously having.

"I swear' she says in-between their laughter "I did not... Mean it to come out like that" the door swings open and the people at the door stare at them like they're crazy.

They try to calm themselves down, breathing heavily in an attempt to halt their laughter.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry" she says, finally managing to stop laughing and stand up to greet her bandmates.

"Hi" she says as she hugs them one my one. Clara and Abbie look over her shoulder to find Ross', raising their eyebrows up at y/n before she hugs them both.

"I've seen you've met Matty and George" she says and they all nod, Clara and Abbie both wiggling their eyebrows at the girl.

"That just leaves..." She begins, turning her body slightly to make way for Ross, but then he's right next to her, one hand on her back and one reaching out to shake their hands.

"Ross... MacDonald, lovely to meet you" he says, shaking their hands.

"You too mate" Jay says, smiling widely at him which shocks y/n. She shares a knowing look with the other girls and they shrug.

"Is Hann not here? Sorry... Adam" they hear Abbie say making them all chuckle.

"No, he said he'd be happy to help on any guitar bits if needed, but I think we've got that covered don't you?" Matty asks and Abbie smiles at him.

"I like you already" she says, stepping forward to clasp a hand around Mattys shoulder.

"Let's get started then" they all find a comfortable position round the room, talking amongst themselves for a few minutes.

Y/n watches as Jay finds his place behind the drum set they have set up in the studio and she feels happy when she sees George stand with him, watching as he does a few fills. Y/n can see that George is impressed and she smiles proudly.

When his eyes meet hers she mouths an "I know right" and then turns away from the both of them, allowing them to talk among each other and get to know each other more. Eventually Jay lets George take his place and show him a few things and y/ns eyes flick up, shocked that he's allowing it.

"That is not like Jay" she says aloud, Abbie and Clara agreeing. Matty and Ross both look at the girls confused.

"You'll understand when you get to know him..." They hear Abbie say as she tunes her guitar.

Y/n watches as Ross moves over to Clara and she hears them talking about bass stuff. She can't help but smile and feel thankful that so far this is going well.

She places her guitar down to remove the hoodie, now far too hot with all the people in the room, Matty pouts at her from across the room and she chuckles and she shakes her head, throwing it at him and making him laugh, the pout falling from his face. She's now adorning a simple black tank top and Ross' eyes can't help but drift over to her.

He literally has to shake his head to get his mind out of the gutter (again) but she notices and sends a smirk his way making him chuckle and shake his head again.

Her eyes are back on her guitar and she closes them for a second "get your shit together y/n" she thinks "you're working with them now, you can't keep doing this" she thinks.

"Ready"? She's pulled out of her own thoughts when a hand lands on her shoulder, she looks up to see Matty and she nods up at him.

They begin to talk through different things, y/n and the band show them some more songs and Matty, George and Ross give their input. Some ideas are loved, some are welcomed and some are discarded straight away with a laugh. They begin working on the song Ross remembers reading when he and y/n went and got coffee.

He learns that they titled it "changing roads". It's the first track they work on together and by the end of the day, it's recorded in its entirety, all edits made.

"Think that's the quickest we've ever finished a track before" Matty says, slumped against the black leather sofa. At some point Y/ns band slowly filtered out, having to attend their shifts at their day jobs.

"You know after this is released they're going to have to quit their jobs" she hears George say, making her smile widely.

"Hold your horses G... Don't get our hopes up" she says and she smiles, liking that she called him his nickname but also smiling because she didn't realise how amazing they were.

"I should really get going... Got a girlfriend to see" George says, standing up from his place on the floor, he walks over to her and she stands, meeting him for a hug.

"Don't forget how amazing you are... Also Charli wants you to come over for dinner" she smiles and hugs him again before he's leaving.

"Okay" she says happily, nodding up at him. He then leaves, leaving Ross, Matty and y/n.

Matty places a pair of earphones back on his head and asks her to click play again, wanting to hear the track once more. She leans over the sound board, clicking play, from where Ross sits,he snaps a picture of her and then of Matty.

She places another set of earphones over hear ears, moving to sit next to Ross who drapes his arm over the back of the sofa, where she sits.

The three of them listen together, all smiling sleepy little smiles as they listen to the track. She listens to herself sing and for once she's impressed by the sound of her voice, and the harmonies the band offer.

"You'll never stop these changing roads. This is the way our story goes" she hears Matty sing making her look over at him. His hands are crossed, held in-between his open legs.

"This is really good" Ross says, both y/n and Matty's head flicking to him, they both nod, they all smile.

She feels her stomach flutter, butterflies erupting. What was she doing?

(6) The Dinner

#the 1975 #ross macdonald #matty healy #george daniel #adam hann #ross macdonald fanfic #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald the 1975 #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald imagine #matty healy oneshot #matty healy fic #matty healy x reader #matty healy x oc #ross macdonald x oc #the 1975 fan fiction #same for you the 1975 series #the 1975 series

150 notes · View notes

alovesreading · 4 months

Text

'tis the damn season | Part 1

Summary: Christmas has been your favourite season since you met Ross MacDonald back in Year 9 when you had just moved to Wilmslow, coincidentally on the same road as him. He becomes your very best friend for the rest of high school, but when that ends, life happens and you just can't stop it. And life is certainly cruel to you and Ross. Every December is a reminder of it, somehow always bringing a chance to ruin things even more. After so many mistakes, how can you get back the times you've always cherished with the silly boy with the dimpled smile?

Word count: 16.5k

Warnings: a bit of ansgt. well more than just a bit. @imagine-that-100 and @kennedy-brooke have made it very clear to warn you that they cried (a lot) to this so here's your warning to read this at your own discretion. i promise I'll make it up to you in the next part lol

A/N: Last month I made a poll here to see which Ross fic everyone wanted to see next (since people were asking for more Ross and I had a few fics plotted out but didn't know which to write first) and this one won by a few votes. So here it is, a bit shit and a bit angsty but I hope you enjoy it!

Masterlist

Part 2

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

Slowly but surely, Ross MacDonald had made his way into your heart all those years ago.

And it all could be traced back to Christmas day 2002, when an act of kindness set the tone for a friendship that had been silently brewing between the two of you.

You had moved to Wilmslow as soon as you finished Year 8 and the anticipation for the start of Year 9 in a new school had been dreadful.

Thankfully, moving in had kept you and your parents busy enough to hide away in your new house as you waited for the first day of school to arrive.

Your parents hadn’t even pushed you to go out and make friends throughout the horrendously hot weeks of August for they allowed you to settle in the new house—they knew how badly you coped with change, and they were at least being kind enough to leave you to your own devices before school started. You kept your days busy by burying your nose in the few books you’d managed to keep after convincing your mom not to donate the entirety of your bookshelves.

But far too soon, the first day of school loomed on you and the first week at Wilmslow high school had been atrocious.

You kept to yourself like you always did, however, this time, it was an exaggerated amount. But you just felt so out of place, you couldn’t help it.

You’d look up at the sky with a pained expression every time during lunch, when you would finish yet another chapter of a book you’d read over and over since you’d gotten it, asking why? Just why would your parents make you move to a new town, and start from scratch at a new school when you were halfway through high school?

By Year 9, everyone’s friend groups were settled, the last year of school when everyone felt carefree enough to enjoy every single day before having to choose and start working towards getting their GCSEs.

So you felt like a proper outsider, not really welcome, like a new organism trying to push their way into an established ecosystem. And you hated it so much. It only pushed you further into your shell, making you want to disappear and remain under the shadows as you walked through the hallways to get to class, recoiling into yourself when hearing the loud chatter and laughter going on around you, failing horrendously at even smiling when people would make eye contact with you.

You were at least glad that you could walk home to and from school. The few minutes of silence and peace were something you cherished a lot now; the thudding of your leather shoes against the pavement lulling your thoughts as you made your way to the building that you were starting to dread seeing on the daily.

The second week had brought a surprise when you were halfway through yet another read of ‘The Perks of Being a Wallflower’ and a group of girls approached you. You’d flinched when one of them spoke up as they sat around you in a menacing circle.

“S’a bit of a sad read for such a lovely day, no?”

The girl had been kind enough to let out a genuine giggle by the end of her lighthearted words so you braved up enough to put your book down softly and offer her a half smile. You had managed to joke back, a reference to the book that the three girls thankfully caught and then, with an ease that soothed your soul, you found yourself making your first few friends by talking about the books you loved so much.

As the days went by and you found yourself surprised when having people to share lunch with and greet when you got to school, you were sure this was as far as you’d get to with your luck. And, in all honesty, you were grateful. You had never been one to have loads of friends, and even with the few you’d made throughout the years, you knew you weren’t lucky to form strong bonds like everyone else did at your age.

So when you were walking down the roads that lead you to school, the last thing that you were expecting was for the boy who startled your silent and peaceful walk to become your very best friend.

Ross had seen you around school a few times by the end of the first week and the talk about the mysterious new girl had been doing rounds enough for his curiosity to be piqued, when he saw you walking into the house down the road from his house at the start of the second week of the school year.

He had made an effort waking up at a reasonable time and leaving for school way earlier than he always did every morning then, to see if he could catch up with you.

There wasn’t really a plan, there was just his growing curiosity to know about the girl who lived on the opposite corner of the road, the one who walked a block ahead of him every morning and got to school a minute before him, being whisked away by three girls that you gave the honour to see your smile unlike the rest of the students who crossed you through the halls.

One morning in particular, when Ross had just been annoyed at himself for missing you every damn time he walked out of his house, he decided to rush his steps until he reached you. Stumbling the last few and successfully startling you when he managed to catch up to you about a few minutes before you’d get to school.

His mind went blank when you looked at him expectantly for a few seconds, nothing but the birds chirping around you and the sound of cars driving down the roads enveloped you as you waited for a reasoning behind his sudden appearance.

But Ross gave you nothing but a dimpled smile and offered his hand out for you to shake.

Your grip was firm and the smile that broke on your face was as sweet as the ones you gave your new friends.

He foolishly hoped that meant you were friends now, but just to be sure of it, he let you know his name.

“Ross,” he started a bit shaky, clearing his throat before adding, “MacDonald.”

The chortle you gave at his formality made a pinkish blush creep up from his neck to his cheeks.

The sight made you smile a bit harder.

“Y/N,” your voice made him melt. “Y/L/N. If the full legal name is really needed.”

He shook his head at himself, snorting out in laughter and dropping your hand softly. He clenched his fingers in a fist and then loosened it when his arm fell to his side. Even though the day was warm and he didn’t like it at all with the horrendously suffocating uniform they had to wear, he found himself not minding the warmth that holding your hand had brought.

Frowning at the thought, he fell silent just like you did and followed as you resumed your walk.

That was the first day you walked to school together.

Every morning after that, he ran to catch up to you and walk together to school. And little by little, your conversations elongated and you two shared more about yourselves to each other as the days went by.

“So who’s that girl then?” Matty asked one day after seeing you and Ross part ways at the entrance of the school.

Ross tensed at the line of questioning, especially at Matty’s tone and the way he wiggled his eyebrows at him.

“Just my neighbour,” he said almost dismissively. “We walk the same way to school so I bump into her sometimes.”

It wasn’t in bad nature though, he just wanted to keep the details of you that you kept hidden for everyone else to himself. It wasn’t selfish, Ross convinced himself, just giving you the chance to open up to Matty if you ever decided to do that.

But the curly headed boy knew well enough he hadn’t seen you before when he’d come over to the MacDonald’s residence, and he also knew very well that Ross walked into school with you daily. Sometimes my arse.

“Don’t remember seeing her around when I’ve come over to yours.”

Ross held back a huff but he freely let himself roll his eyes, “She’s just moved into the house on the other side of the road from mine.”

Matty hummed, smirking as he looked around until his gaze fell on you, “She’s fit.”

You were laughing with your friends, chatting excitedly as you sorted through your bag and pulled out a book.

Ross frowned at Matty’s comment but not because he disagreed, he actually wholeheartedly thought his friend was right, but because he didn’t like it coming from him.

“Maybe you should introduce us to the other,” Matty added with a cheeky grin when he saw the expression on Ross’ face. “Be a good mate and play cupid for me, MacDonald.”

Ross scoffed loudly at the forward suggestion from his friend. It was settled then, telling Matty you lived in the same road as him and that you’d just moved into town was enough for him to know.

He kept to himself what your favourite movie was, which album you’d last become obsessed with, the names of your friends back home who you didn’t talk to anymore now that you’d moved, how you had broken your arm at five years old in the playground and had put stickers all over your pink cast to show it off at school. Ross definitely wouldn’t tell him how that book had been lent to you by Danielle, one of your new friends, and how you’d stayed up until three in the morning reading it so you had spent half your trip up to school yawning and rubbing your eyes.

Yup. He would definitely keep it all to himself.

And so he did. He kept every bit of yourself that you shared with him to himself and himself only. And along with all those little facts about you, he also kept to himself the way he perked up every time he saw you slowly walking down the pavement, the warmth that spread through him when he saw you smile at him.

He would frown at himself in the mirror when he thought about it at home. He was thirteen years old, there were so many things much more important than thinking about how pretty you were or how your smile made him all gooey inside. He huffed every time, convincing himself he was just being objective and not developing a crush. He liked you as a friend and that was it. He had much more important matters than his feelings, which he definitely didn’t have.

But after the half term break, there was a change that made his stubborn thoughts falter.

He walked out of his house ready to see your figure already ahead of him, ready to power walk his way up to you.

But he saw no one but the trees and bushes lining the road and he deflated instantly.

He thought about walking up to your front door and knocking, asking if you’d gotten ill and you weren’t going to school. He pondered about what could’ve happened as he walked, eyes down as he went over the possibilities.

So he didn’t see you sitting on the step of your front door, waiting for him to walk by.

Taking in his distracted complexion, you decided to startle him right before he walked past your mum’s car.

A loud and slightly high pitched yell stumbled out of his mouth, and you somehow overpowered the sound with a loud fit of laughter that certainly felt like a nice apology for the scare.

You wouldn’t stop giggling about it as you walked to school, somehow managing to make him laugh along despite embarrassment tinting his cheeks red. Ross had never heard you laugh this much in his presence so he’d let you indulge in it, and when he did, you let yourself grow more comfortable around him.

He felt it from the way you’d now wait for him to walk by sitting on the step of your front door every morning, and how you’d greet him with a smile and an excited, “Hey!” He felt it from the way you’d lean into him as you walked, how you’d nudge his hip with yours when you’d tease him.

Just like you had done one day when you asked about the band.

“So he got promoted, huh?”

Your question had been thrown out into the chilly air of early November, suddenly and without context, so Ross looked at you confused and asked, “Who?”

His group of friends and yours didn’t really share much at all. Whilst you and your friends shared the growing love for books and films, you knew Ross was in a band with some of his friends and they were always messing about, playing video games or going to the skate park, if they were not recording themselves covering songs like the Ghostbusters theme song, which you’d seen on myspace, or just rehearsing in someone’s garage.

So you knew a little about the band from the few videos that went around the school, seeing them hidden away in the music room at school sometimes, or just the talk going around the halls. It was exactly the gossip which had brought the piece of information to your attention and you’d been curious about what had gotten Elliot, some lad who sang for their band, to quit in the middle of rehearsal and left that job open for his friend, who you knew played the drums, to take it.

“Your friend, the one with the curly hair and glasses? Used to be on the drums until a few days ago no? Or so the chatter going ‘round says.”

Recognition melted the frown away from his face, “Oh Matty? Yeah, yeah. We got George in the band now. T’was sorta logistically impossible to have Matty singing and on the drums at the same time. He had to do one thing at a time for it to properly work.”

You hummed, cocking your head as you took in the information. It made sense. “How’s that arrangement going on then?”

“Erm, well he likes being up on the front. The attention and all.” Ross joked a little, even though it was mostly true.

You snorted out in laughter, “Yeah I bet.”

He hummed as if asking for you to elaborate.

“He looks like he likes attention. Not a bad thing, just–” you stuttered as you tried to look for the words, settling for, “It’s funny to watch, s’all."

Ross snorted as he nodded, “It is.”

Already seeing Jodie, Sarah and Danielle waiting for you by the school entrance, you turned to look at him and offered him a cheeky grin to play, “Good luck with that then, MacDonald. Don’t let him steal your spotlight too much.”

It was things like that that you’d say that would stay with him for days in the forefront of his mind. Weeks swirling around his subconscious and keeping him up at night, nothing really came from thinking about them so much, only the need to spend more and more time with you but he had no clue how or when to even suggest that.

The need only grew stronger when the holiday break came around and Ross hadn’t seen you in five days. Sure, two of those were the weekend but he had only really endured going without seeing you on the weekends, reuniting with your voice and your smile and your laughter the following Monday.

So Ross had been thinking about how he could even come around to seeing you during the holidays. Especially since it was actually Christmas day.

He could knock on your door, easily, but then what would he do? Was he coming over just to say hello? What if one of your parents answered the door? What was he trying to do? What excuse could he have?

Turns out, he didn’t have to think of an excuse because as he walked back home from Matty’s, Ross found you grumpily walking back home too.

He called out your name in the distance and thankfully, you heard him enough to turn around to see him and stop in your tracks.

It wasn’t until he was next to you that he said, “Why the long face? It’s Christmas.”

You could hear the hint of playfulness in his voice, but the annoyance that filled you mixed with a bit of sadness so you couldn’t find it in yourself to play along.

Instead, you sighed and shoved your gloved hands back inside your coat’s pockets. Shivering, you replied, “I know. There’s always a Grinch though, no?”

He nudged your hip with his, a smirk tugging on the corners of his mouth as he joked, “Doubt you’ve just stolen all the village’s gifts.”

When you only gave him a soft chuckle that got lost in the sound of the wind, he turned serious and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Taking a deep breath so you didn’t let it get to you again, you took a second before explaining, “Mum’s forgotten to buy the potatoes and sent me out on the impossible quest of finding some at a quarter past four on the 25th of December.”

Ross gave you a soft, understanding smile then. “Ah, so no potatoes acquired.”

“Not one,” you mumbled in despair, shivering again when a cold rush of wind blew the hoodie off your head.

He had to hold himself back from throwing his arm over your shoulder and pulling you into him. All to help you get warm, of course. But he thought against it at the last second, instead thinking about what he could do to help.

“You know, me mum always buys way more than needed. It’s only us three so she definitely has some to spare.”

Horrified at the thought of taking from what should be his Christmas dinner, you quickly dismissed his suggestion. “No, Ross. It’s okay, it doesn’t matter.”

But Ross wouldn’t accept no for an answer. Kissing his teeth as he shook his head, he nudged your hip again, a cheeky grin on his face, “C’mon Y/N, today’s all about giving, is it not?”

Damn him and that dimpled smile that made it so easy for you to smile back. You hummed as you pressed your lips, trying not to beam at him too brightly but letting him win, “I guess it is.”

It was strange walking up the road and past your house. You had waited outside but still gasped under your breath at the glimpse of his house all decorated when he walked in through the door. When he closed the door behind him as his mum peeked her head out of the kitchen door, you sighed out in relief. Yes, he was your friend now but you were far too shy to go in and meet his parents only to take their potatoes.

Your cheeks and neck warmed with a flush that went all through your body when you thought about how he’d be telling his mum about the vegetables. God, how fucking embarrassing. You were cursing your mum’s forgetfulness in your mind when Ross walked back out, a bag of potatoes in hand.

You wanted earth to open up and swallow you whole.

But when that didn’t happen, you accepted the bag with a genuine smile and thanked Ross profusely. He said it was alright over and over but your mind was going over how you could repay it already.

An idea sparked in your head just as he was waving off yet another thank you that stumbled out of your lips, so with a sudden hurry, you wished him and his family a merry Christmas and walked back home.

A handful of hours later, you were back at his door. This time with your hands full, holding a tray of way too many Christmas cookies for three people.

“Special delivery?” You muttered softly, holding up the tray towards Ross as he peeled the door open further when seeing it was you.

He walked out, brave enough to face the bitter cold of the night without a proper coat. In just a beige knitted sweater, he rubbed his hands to warm them as he frowned, “What’s this?”

“Cookies, of course,” you replied with sarcasm dripping thick from your words. Ross glared at you, unimpressed by your answer and making you sigh, correcting yourself, “A thank you.”

“I told you it was alright.”

You knew he meant it but when you came back home, bag of potatoes in hand, your mum had gasped in surprise at you actually managing to get them. Not allowing her to get excited about being right about maybe the corner shop being open, you let your annoyance be known as you told her what had actually happened: you’d walked to the shops in the freezing cold for no reason because they were all closed like you very much knew they’d be, but Ross had been the one to give her the bag of vegetables. Just like you’d been thinking of doing already, your mum suggested making something extra to send over to Ross’ family as a thank you.

So here you were, with a double batch of sprinkled sugar cookies that you’d just taken out of the oven about twenty minutes before, standing in front of the MacDonald’s home, trying to get Ross to accept a humble—and quite tasty—offering as a thank you for his help.

“Well today’s about giving, isn’t it Ross?”

He couldn’t help but smile when hearing you use his very own words to push him into gracefully accepting the sweet treats. And so the only way to answer was by using your very own answer from earlier, “I guess it is.”

“Then take them, please.”

Truth be told, you had gotten to work on them quickly after going back home. It was a recipe you knew by heart so it wasn’t hard for you to make batch after batch. Your parents had been happily having some with hot chocolate whilst you’d come to deliver Ross the cookies you’d made for him and his family.

Ross smiled brightly, “Thank you, you’re a sweetheart.”

Your cheeks had warmed at the pet name, he’d never referred to you any other way than your name.

It was to be expected that the stupid smile on your face didn’t leave you until you went to sleep that night, and you’d been replaying him calling you that in your mind over and over.

You didn’t really see him after Christmas, not even on New Year’s Eve or New Year’s day, so you had to wait for the first day back at school to see him. To hear his voice, watch that infectious smile of his break on his face.

But on Monday, you waited for him far too long, sat on the step by your front door until it got late. You had walked to school alone, quickly and panicking as you tried not to be late but also worried about what could’ve happened with him.

Everything was alright though, Ross had just stupidly slept in until his mum startled him out of bed when he was already running late. He’d gotten dressed in record time, and basically ran to school and barely made it. There wasn’t any sense of relief overcoming him when he made it just in time, he was filled with dread after having missed your daily morning walk together, the one he’d been looking forward to since he’d gotten a taste of those cookies you made—he had basically hoarded them and left his parents only a handful to eat, they all had reached the conclusion that you’d done amazingly with the cookies and that it had been incredibly sweet of you to drop them off for them; so he really needed to tell you all that.

To his dismay, Ross didn’t see you at all throughout the day. So when the school day was over and everyone spilled out of the building, he rushed outside to catch you before you left for home.

In the distance, you heard him yell out your name and even your friends froze in their places beside you.

They smirked when you all turned around to see him clumsily breaking through the crowd to get to you, wiggles of their eyebrows and widening eyes letting you know that they were definitely curious about what was going on for your ‘walking-to-school buddy’, as they’d nicknamed him, to be so desperate to find you.

Waving them off and forcing them to say goodbye, you walked away from them and tilted your head slightly so Ross would follow you along as you started walking away from school.

The apology was imminent, you just didn’t know it would come this quickly, “M’so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t hear my alarm and slept in.” He took a deep breath when he got to your side and added, “Mum had to wake me up, fucking hell. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten dressed this quickly in my life.”

You laughed at him, the way his eyes flashed with dread at the recount of his morning.

He continued explaining, for no reason other than feeling like you deserved the whole truth behind it, “We got fucking plastered on New Year’s at Matty’s. Fully had to take a few days to recover from that nightmare of a hangover, but I’m still feeling rough so I just kept sleeping.”

Another string of giggles fell from your lips, “Right.”

Despite still being very sure of wanting to keep Matty away from you, Ross couldn’t help but suggest, “You should come along next year. You’d enjoy yourself.” He had been thinking about how it could’ve been with you there the whole time—or at least until he blacked out—, wishing he had invited you over. So he did just that, but just in case, he added, “Plus the guys are funny, even though they can be really obnoxious.”

Amused, you looked at him with raised brows and a cheeky grin, “I think Adam should be exempt from that.”

You had met Adam at school, he had been kind enough to say hello one day in the halls knowing that you were one of Ross’ friends, and he’d been really sweet chatting to you from time to time when you bumped into him around school. He definitely was nothing like Matty or George, who you’d seen causing ruckus around the place a fair few times.

At the dig, Ross asked, “What about me?”

But you tried taunting him by ignoring his inquiry and saying, “I'll be counting down the next 365 days,” successfully accepting his invitation over to Matty’s for the welcome of the next year.

Frozen in his place, his mouth fell agape at your blatant dismissal of his words, and so you left him behind with a chuckle, continuing walking towards your house.

From behind you, you heard him ask again, a bit louder this time, “Oi! What about me?”

You just laughed, shaking your head and not turning to see him. He had run up to you and poked your side as payback, making you squeal in surprise.

Your laughter hadn’t stopped until you were almost halfway to your house and answering his question had been long forgotten.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

The weeks that followed that first Christmas had seen you and Ross becoming proper friends and causing a domino effect on the mixing of your friend groups. Friendships bloomed easily when everyone started hanging out together thanks to you and Ross wanting to share more time together other than your walks to and from school.

It was an odd group of people, but you managed to bring out different sides of each other and it was pure laughter and joy every time.

Before you knew it, birthdays, half term breaks, weekends, Halloweens, and evenings after school were spent with you all together. Messing about, watching the guys rehearse in Matty’s garage, being front row in every gig they played, helping each other study for your GCSEs, coming over to watch films and sneaking out to the skatepark.

But when December came around and school had closed for Holiday break, you realised that it was that time of the year that would become your absolute favourite.

For Christmas 2003, you had made sure to make something for his family again. After Ross had told you how much his family had enjoyed the cookies you’d made, you wanted to surprise them with something again; even if this year you’d made sure your mum didn’t forget a single thing for your Christmas dinner so you weren’t asking for something back from the MacDonalds.

You had made a glorious batch of Yorkshire pudding that Ross and his parents enjoyed thoroughly with their gravy. You’d told your mum how surprised and grateful your neighbours had been for the treat, and you were secretly hoping Ross would come knocking on your door to tell you how they found your cooking but you had been the one surprised instead when Ross had come over on Boxing day morning with a delicious English trifle that his mum made as a thank you.

After having a healthy portion of dessert, you had basically dragged Ross upstairs to show him the presents you had gotten that year, and he had enjoyed every second with a silly grin on his face.

He hadn’t missed a beat to invite you over to his house so he could show you what he had gotten that year. But you hadn’t been allowed to leave before your mum could take a few pictures of you and Ross with the brand new Polaroid camera your dad had spoiled her with that year.

Her obsession with hanging mistletoe had ended up with Ross kissing your cheek for a picture after your mum had cheekily pointed out you were standing right below it.

You had felt the burning imprint of his lips on the skin of your cheek for hours as you were thrown on his bed admiring the beauty of his new bass, hearing him tune the instrument and practise the songs he knew how to play so well with what he had been obnoxiously referring to as his new ‘baby’.

That afternoon you had gone to Matty’s house, the rest of your friend group arrived shortly after you and Ross, and soon enough you started exchanging the gifts you’d gotten each other. The presents weren’t big or something too special, you all had to make due with your pocket money, but it had brought you so much happiness to see everyone’s reactions to what the other’s had gotten for them.

The days in between Boxing day and New Year’s Eve had been spent with either you over at Ross’ house or him over at yours.

By then, it wasn’t odd to spend time at each other’s houses, watching films and eating chips or helping each other with homework and studying. But the cold December had assured that every time you fell asleep as you watched a film in your room or his, you’d wake up cuddling tightly to keep warm.

It was a drastic change to wake up with your limbs tangled together instead of your heads resting on the other’s shoulder like it had happened before. So the first time it had happened, the two of you had jumped away from the other like you’d just been shocked by electricity. The truth was that a buzz had gone through your body to every single one of your nerve endings and you both had felt it, it was obvious in the foolish grins that you tried to hide as you apologised to each other.

But it was tempting to get lost in the feeling, and it proved impossible for you to have the heart to stop it from happening when you woke up resting on Ross’ chest, his arms around your waist to keep you in place and your legs tangled together.

You had blinked awake and seen the situation in which you were stuck in, and despite knowing it would be best to peel yourself away from him as your heartbeat grew louder in your ears, you just couldn’t do it.

Closing your eyes, you willed yourself to fall back asleep and leave the decision for Ross to make. Yet, he had felt you stir in his hold and it only took him a few seconds to wake up.

He groaned lowly and you felt your face heat up at the sound rumbling through his chest under your cheek. This was definitely not helping you ignore the way his presence had started making you fluster and get giddy every time, not helping the need to spend all of your time with him; definitely not helping your thoughts from going to a conversation with your friends who were willing to bet that you had a crush on Ross.

Softly you apologised and went to push yourself away from him, but Ross held you tighter and shook his head, half lidded eyes that fought against his sleepy haze on you with determination.

“Don’t. You’re so cosy.”

It was clearer than ever that you couldn’t say no to him and it made you curse at yourself in your mind.

By the time New Year’s Eve came, you and Ross had made it a habit to cuddle whenever either of you was at the other’s house, and with the cuddles came the need to have the other close at all times.

Therefore, you were glued to each other for the entirety of Matty’s house party. Even when one of you ran to the bathroom to be sick—yes, one if not the both of you, would definitely be shit faced before midnight—, the other was there to help.

When the countdown happened, you would laugh at the crowd of drunk teenagers trying to properly sync up to the clock. And when midnight struck, you’d all go around the room to clumsily hug everyone and wish them a happy new year.

And, of course, when you would wake up after knocking out on one of the settees, you’d be cuddling Ross tightly into you like you had grown used to doing in the past couple of days.

When the holiday season of 2004 came around, everything you had done the year before had become a tradition. From making something for the other’s family to spending the lazy morning of Boxing day together, walking over to Matty’s house side by side with the gifts for your friends in hand, spending the days leading up to New Year’s Eve together and then going over to the Healy’s residence to get pissed as you welcomed the new year.

You found yourself wishing for every year to be the same.

Your heart swelled in your chest when December 2005 loomed around the corner, and your cheeks hurt from how hard you smiled when your traditions continued just the same during Holiday break.

Another recipe was made as you tried to impress the MacDonalds, another picture of kisses on cheeks was added to the collection, another handful of presents bought for your friends, another show and tell of your gifts thrown for Ross, many more movies watched as you nuzzled in his neck, another countdown shouted with your best of friends, another hangover cured with Ross’ help.

But everything was slightly different this time around, for 2006 meant that this would be your last Holiday season at home before you were off to university. And though you were definitely coming back home to celebrate the Holidays every year, it was different enough to make it a proper last celebration.

That meant Ross and his parents coming over for Christmas dinner at your house.

“Wish we had done this sooner,” you tell Ross as you cut pieces of the sticky toffee pudding you made earlier today.

He hums beside you, sliding a plate closer to you so you could place the first piece down, “Me too.”

It’s hard not to be nostalgic already when you’re all chatting and laughing together, your chest feels heavy as you long for a memory in the making, one that you know you will cherish forever, even if you don’t have to because you’re sure you won’t ever have to spend the Christmas holidays without Ross—you’re determined to never let that happen.

Everyone sitting around the table showers you in compliments for the delicious dessert you’ve made, Ross’ mum asking for the recipe while everyone else asks for seconds.

“Can I get a double serving, sweetheart? You know, since I’m your favourite person here.”

You roll your eyes at him, but Ross knows far too well that you can’t say no to him. Not when he calls you that.

He could admit that sometimes he uses the pet name selfishly, but most of the time is just to see how you squirm under his gaze, completely unable to keep your cool.

Ross thinks you’re so fucking cute.

He has been for a while. And that crush he knew he had on you, only grew stronger and deeper the more days he spent in your presence.

Matty had said once that Ross was in love with you and the bassist had never been more grateful that his best mate had at least waited until you were out of hearing distance for him to point that out.

But that comment swirled in the back of Ross’ head ever since it had fallen from Matty’s lips and it echoed loudly in his mind when you were near him, and it got horrendously louder when you were cuddling or hugging him.

Just like you are right now as you pose for your mum’s camera.

That Polaroid which had been the reason for your growing collection of pictures with you and Ross as the main focus of the frame. From your birthday pictures to pictures your mum had sneakily taken when the two of you fell asleep on the settee, pictures of you in your fancy dresses before you were off to a house party for Halloween and all of your Christmas pictures throughout the years.

Your arms are wrapped around Ross’ waist, one of his hands over your hands as if to keep you there and his other arm over your shoulder. The smiles are wide on your faces for the first picture but you know what’s happening next. Like clockwork, Ross is pressing his lips on your cheek for the yearly kiss picture you take under the mistletoe that hangs above you.

Mockingly, really.

Because Ross has long gotten tired of kissing your cheek, he wants to kiss you properly under the mistletoe and has been wanting to since the second time your mum made the two of you pose for pictures under the hanging arrangement of little branches. He remembered the twinkling lights around your house reflecting on your pretty eyes and he was gone; his lips itched to press on yours but he had held back, only because your mum was always right there.

But this time the obnoxious whirring of the empty camera alerts you all that the film has run out and your mum excuses herself to make a dash upstairs and get a new pack, warning you to stay right there for her.

You loosen up your embrace and let your arms fall limply on your sides to give Ross his space until your mum is back but he frowns as he looks at you and scorns, “Where are you going?”

It isn’t like you are leaving though, you’re staying right beside him but letting him free for a minute or two because you know how annoying your mum can get about pictures and how, despite his lack of comment on it, he only just tolerates it.

“She’s gonna take a while. We’ll pose again when she’s back.”

He huffs under his breath because he really didn’t want you to stop hugging him. But he takes the moment to look up the stairs as the noise of your mum making a clutter in her room as she looks for her film bounces down the halls and reaches the two of you. A loud ‘for fucks sake’ is heard from upstairs and your best friend hears you snort beside him.

Just when he was about to look back at you, Ross catches a glimpse of the neatly hung arrangement of mistletoe and, now really aware of the fact that your mum is out of sight and both your dads are heavily engrossed in conversation far away from where you stand, he knows this is the moment he’s been wishing for.

The feeling of his hands coming up to your face surprises you, but what’s more surprising is seeing him slowly leaning into you and you do nothing to stop it.

How could you stop it? When it’s something you’ve been thinking about obsessively for months now. The feelings that he brought you only heightened with time and you didn’t do anything about it other than keep it to yourself and sigh endlessly as you thought about him every day when you were alone in your room, writing everything down on your battered old diary.

Ross pauses when your noses brush, your breaths mixing with him this close to you and he’s about to ask when you just nod, almost missable if his forehead wasn’t pressed against yours and the movement causes his own head to move.

That was all he needed to close the distance and your heart explodes in your chest when his lips press against yours and his stubble itches your face as he starts to move his mouth on yours.

It’s quick because your mum’s footsteps coming quickly down the hall startle the two of you away from each other, but the kiss is enough to assure you two that the crushes you had on each other are much more than that.

And your mum captures the foolish smiles on your faces when that notion becomes apparent to you and Ross. This time, a kiss falls on Ross’ cheeks and your mum coos loudly at the dimpled loopy smile that breaks on his face.

You don’t say anything, because you really don’t know what can be said, and Ross doesn’t either, so you go on about the rest of the night like nothing’s happened. But the ache in your cheeks from how much you two are grinning dares to say otherwise.

Neither of you says a thing when the night’s wrapped up and you say goodbye. Ross really has to hold back from stealing another kiss from your lips when he hugs you goodbye, the attentive gaze of your and his parents posing a burden for his growing need to do that again.

But even the next morning, he’s wary of trying his luck again and, since you’re expecting him to make the first move again, you stop yourself from getting your hopes up and put it down to him just getting excited about standing under the mistletoe. After all, it is the rules of that tradition. So yes, you’re blaming it all on the mistletoe and you hope that singular word is enough of a bandaid on the little crack of your heart.

Yet, the heartache that the rest of Boxing day brings is a different and much stronger one when you and your friends are all splayed around Matty’s living room with sad smiles on your faces after having exchanged presents.

“It’s okay. We’re all coming back every Christmas and it’ll never change,” says Danielle, hoping that saying it aloud makes it become real.

The weight of the fact that half of you will be leaving town in September and it will all change, because growing up has been something none of you could avoid and life moves on, and unfortunately you have to move on too.

It’s somehow harder knowing that it’s you moving away. Matty had managed to convince the guys’ parents that the band was going to be a thing, something huge in no time, and therefore getting Adam and Ross to stay in Wilmslow—George was still dealing with his GCSEs, but even he wasn’t planning on doing his A Levels and going off to uni.

The thought of leaving everyone else behind, once again, makes you shake from anxiety when you think too much about it.

Losing all these people is enough of a nightmare to make your eyes well up with tears, ones you struggle to keep from spilling down your cheeks when everyone promises to be back every Christmas, speaking out what their plans will be for when the time comes.

Ross throws his arm around your shoulders when he hears you sniffle, hugging you into his side. That’s enough for you to start crying and in a matter of seconds everyone is suffocating you in a group hug.

It’s settled then that everyone is gonna make the most out of the rest of the week and your annual New Year’s Eve house party will be one to remember, to part with the best memories and only make the following years even better.

And you do just that.

Instead of spending the days leading up to New Year’s Eve with Ross, the rest of your friend group sticks together and you all spend the days in different houses, watching movies, messing about, playing video games. A few afternoons you all escape to the skatepark and hide away to smoke or drink, enjoying the last bits of the togetherness that you have a bad feeling will be broken despite the promises.

When the 31st of December approaches, and you walk into Matty’s house with Ross behind you, you gasp seeing the scene set up for the night.

There’s much more alcohol than needed for how many of you there will be, rolled spliffs on the coffee table ready for anyone to smoke, an unnecessary amount of snacks that you know will do absolutely no help to help you from getting pissed quickly.

You’re grateful you ate enough to survive a few hours of drinking before blacking out, if it even gets to that point. Unfortunately, George can’t say the same because by the time everyone has arrived at Matty’s, he’s already stumbling around the place with those silly giggles of his stumbling out at absolutely everything around him.

Everyone else followed, knocking back drink after drink and smoking to their heart’s content until there’s nothing but loud laughter and yelling, and the place is trashed by careless teenage behaviour.

It’s wild to say the least, everyone is on the verge of losing memory of the night with every shot and puff they take, the drinking games do not help in the slightest and George has been picked up from having passed out on the bushes twice already.

No one really is sober enough to care about the countdown. Matty and George being the menacing duo they are when intoxicated are entertaining everyone inside with the shit they spout, everyone’s eyes are on them like they’re the most captivating clowns anyone has ever seen, getting loud laughs from everyone.

But despite the amount you and Ross have drank, you’ve got enough grasp on your logic to walk out and close the door behind you, ready to watch the fireworks go off as everyone greets the new year.

Ross lights up a cigarette beside you and takes a long drag with an ease that makes you roll your eyes. You’ve always struggled when smoking with them, trying to take a drag of a spliff always ended with you erupting in a horrendous fit of coughs that end up hurting your chest, you were a bit better with cigarettes, only that meant you coughed a little less and you could take multiple drags of it instead of just the one.

He still offers you it, knowing that since you’re drunk you are most likely to crave a puff or two. Your fingers pluck it out of his accompanied with a soft, “Thanks.” that he smiles at.

As expected, you cough when the smoke hits the back of your throat but you don’t give it back, you hold your breath to stop yourself from coughing and try again. This time it burns way less so you can let the smoke go down until you can relish in the feeling and then let it out upwards.

Ross is staring at you with glistening eyes, fighting a grin that wants to break on his face just from seeing you like this. He finds even the most mundane things you do so incredibly endearing, it’s tragic how much of a hold you have on him and he just can’t stop it nor does he want to.

Yet, the real tragedy is that he doesn’t know exactly what to do. He knows what he wants to do: kiss you and cuddle you, hold your hand in school, have you close to him all the time; but he has no idea how to make that happen.

And time is ticking now, your imminent goodbye looming on him like a dark cloud in the horizon and he can’t help but think it might be stupid to risk your friendship selfishly when it’s soon that you’ll be gone.

But when everyone inside starts counting down in a horribly loud and drunk choir, Ross is brought out of his head. There you stand in front of him, fingers holding out the cigarette for him to take, a smirk on your face as you wiggle the stick for him to take, and there’s only one thing that Ross is thinking.

After that taste on Christmas day, he can’t just let this opportunity go. Not when it’s set so perfectly for him to make the move.

Ten, nine, eight…

He steps right in front of you, plucking the cigarette out of your hand and tossing it to the ground before wrapping an arm around your waist, his right hand coming to cup your face.

Seven, six, five, four…

Your breath leaves you in a gasp, your mouth hanging open as he starts leaning in. Your gazes stuck on the other, pupils dilating as the moment you’ve been both thinking about for days seems to happen all over again.

Three, two, one…

His lips are on yours before everyone can even finish saying one, their loud “Happy New Years!” doesn’t even startle you out of it. The noise only makes his fingers dig harsher on your face and his mouth grows more intent on yours, tongue licking your bottom lip and with a breathy whimper, you welcome him by parting your mouth.

Your lungs burn after what feels like minutes, but you can’t be sure it isn’t your brain stretching time out like a string of melted candy. The only thing you can do is curse yourself for ruining your lungs' capacity by having a brief smoke; if you’d only known Ross would be stealing your breath with a kiss, you would have declined.

You pull back with a gasp, trying to take as much oxygen into your lungs, chest heaving with your ragged breaths.

Yet Ross is composed as he lets his eyes flutter close and presses his forehead against yours. Your heavy exhales hit his parted mouth, your noses brush, and you feel your heartbeats in your ears.

“Happy New Year, sweetheart,” he whispers, lips brushing against yours as he talks and your body betrays you when you dip forward to join your mouths again.

It’s barely a kiss, more of a string of pecks that you manage to drop on his parted lips as you try puckering your lips in between trying to catch your breath.

Ross giggles breathily.

You stop, pulling back and looking into his eyes, “Happy New Year, Ross.”

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

It was foolish of you to expect that university would be an easier change than moving towns in the middle of high school, yet you had held out hope that this time things would be easier; with your age and the aspirations you had, you expected all that to fuel you into fighting your struggles when change happened, but how wrong you were.

A miraculous day was one when you wouldn’t cry, staring at your phone as you tried to decide whether or not it would be a good idea to bug your parents once again, or if it was time to come clean to your friends back home about how you actually were feeling.

You never really made a decision. You felt guilty enough keeping this from your friends but you didn’t want to burden them with your stupid issues that all were rooted in your lack of ability to adapt to new places. Your parents were really the only ones who half knew how you were coping, but even then it was a very tame account of what you were really going through.

That is why you’re incredibly giddy now on the coach back home. You don’t even care about it being crowded and feeling way too observed by eyes you’ve never met, neither do you care about the smells around you nor the loud snoring coming from behind you.

All you can think of is how excited you are to be home during your favourite time of the year, to see your friends, to hug Ross so tightly you are sure it will rid you of all of your troubles.

You really wanted to see Ross.

It wasn’t like you never spoke on the phone but with your inability to cope with change, there were only a few evenings throughout the week when you weren’t sobbing your eyes out enough to deal with your academic responsibilities and then make calls back home.

So it was needless to say that you’ve been counting down the days until holiday break, and you just couldn’t wait to get to that road you had met Ross and run down to knock on his door and crush him in a hug.

Your knee bounces up and down as you think about all the things that have been going on back at home, how the world back there has kept spinning around without you and it makes your anxiety creep up your spine.

With a shake of your head, you force yourself to stop.

It’s okay. Everyone will be glad to see you and it’s gonna be as if you’d never left. It’ll be alright.

When your dad picks you up from the Manchester airport station, your smile breaks on your face. It has been so long since you’ve genuinely smiled that your cheeks start hurting shortly into your drive. Your heart slams against your ribcage, your fingers fiddle with the sleeves of your jumper, and your words tangle on the tip of your tongue as you try to chat with your dad.

You can’t wait to get home and feel some sense of normalcy, that familiarity you’ve been longing the very second you went away.

But, despite the warm welcome the familiar walls of your fully decorated house gives you, when Ross comes over, there’s a shift around you that makes you frown.

The unrelenting knocks on the front door have you dashing downstairs, and when you open it, your eyes widen and a gasp slips past your lips when seeing Ross standing in front of you, “Oh my god, hi!”

He envelopes you in a hug that makes a knot tie in your throat, and the sound of his voice would have pushed a sob out of you if it wasn’t for a correction that hit you like a gut punch, “Missed you so much swee– Y/N/N.”

The both of you tense in each other’s hold, impossible not to have missed the awkward correction. Your brows furrow as you look over his shoulder, not wanting to look at his face just yet because your confusion is clear on your face, but you try your best to sound unnerved when you reciprocate, “Yeah. Missed you too.”

A half smile is what you offer him when you pull back, and when he gives you a grin of his, you just want to scream seeing the dimples on his cheek after so long.

Yet, you can’t let yourself enjoy his presence fully when he walks into your house and he greets your parents, because all that you’re thinking about is why on Earth he could’ve stopped himself from calling you a pet name he’s used for you for years.

Your chest hurts already, thinking about a loss that you have no idea the reasoning behind. Little did you know, you would be mourning more losses with the days to come.

In the kitchen, your parents, Ross and yourself are all chatting and catching up over cups of hot chocolate. There’s laughter and smiles, loads of news about what’s been going on in Wilmslow while you’ve been gone, many more stories of the lads and another name the band had acquired.

Soon enough, your mum and dad leave to finish wrapping presents and leave you and Ross to catch up alone.

He’s helping you make cookies, the same ones you had made 5 years ago to thank him for the potatoes. And you can’t help but smile at the memories the two of you have made over the years during the Christmas season, heat creeping up your neck when remembering what had happened merely one year ago.

But you can’t relish too much on the ghostly feeling of his lips on yours because suddenly, he clears his throat and shyly starts talking about something he has been hiding from you for a bit.

“I, erm, met this girl in uni,” he trails off with a soft voice that makes you freeze in your spot. “She’s teaching history, like I do. She’s much smarter than I am, though.”

Ross laughs, that dimpled smile breaking on his now flushed face. All you can do to hide your surprise is chuckle along, breathy and not at all genuine.

And it seems like he takes your giggles as a seal of approval for he lets every thought about this mysterious girl out.

Her name is Katie and she’s the same age as you and Ross. They met the first day of classes when Ross was so confused about where he had been told to go, his inability to take his eyes off the papers in his hand had caused him to crash into her and, after gathering each other’s things which had fallen everywhere on the hall, they chatted enough to know they were both lost on their first day as teachers and they had been inseparable since then.

She has a brilliant memory and is an amazing teacher. Everyone adores her and Ross is still surprised she chooses to hang out with him most of the time. She’s pretty, gorgeous even from what you can see on her myspace page Ross shows you. She loves LCD Soundsystem and The Streets so she’s basically perfect. Added to the fact that she plays the guitar, and of course is quite good at skateboarding.

The bitter feeling rising up your throat burns a hole in your chest, like acid burning through your skin and bones.

“Can we change topics? Please?” You snap out, smacking your hands on the kitchen counter. “Not in the mood to hear about how perfect this girl is. I’m sure I’ll see how fucking wonderful she is when I have to meet her.”

A loud sigh follows your sudden outburst, and then silence falls. Each second hurts, the silence is far too loud and then dread falls on you, a heavy weight on your shoulders that makes you slump forward.

“Right,” he says to pierce through the agonising silence.

You want to disappear right then and there. It’s unfair of you to shut him up like that when you’ve been gone for months and you barely have had the time to chat properly on the phone. It’s unfair of you to not listen to him talk about a topic that clearly has him excited, someone who has him foolishly smiling and rambling.

But maybe it is that. That you are back after the most horrible months you’ve been through and all he can talk about is this gorgeous perfect girl that claims his every thought.

You’re annoyed she’s pushed you away to a corner of his mind. Annoyed that whilst you were crying your eyes out every fucking day, he’s been getting closer to this girl.

It’s odd because it isn’t like Ross hadn’t had girlfriends before. You have witnessed him with girlfriends since you met him.

But there was an end to that and it was when you first kissed on Christmas day a year ago. Ever since that day, your dynamic had shifted and you had been perhaps flirting a bit more, but it never went further than that. But he also didn’t get a girlfriend after that and maybe, despite having to leave for university, you had held out hope that it would stay that way.

How foolish of you.

Cookies are finished and put on the oven in deafening silence, a very awkward one that makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

You can breathe again when he leaves as soon as your parents come back downstairs with more presents to place under the tree. He says something about going back home to get ready and making sure his parents don’t come over late before he closes the door behind himself.

Suddenly, the prospect of having Christmas dinner with the MacDonald family is suffocating and you want to be able to hide in your room and avoid it entirely, but you can’t.

Not when Ross’ mum and dad envelope you in the tightest hugs and tell you how much they’ve missed having you around. You have to bite your tongue not to start crying, especially when you see Ross standing behind them over their shoulders with a forced smile that reminds you how badly you had fucked up earlier.

You’re incredibly grateful for the fact that your parents take over the conversation aspect of dinner, because Ross barely looks at you or speaks to you all throughout it. It only saddens you more, a bit of anger brewing inside you too.

It’s too tense to enjoy, too awkward to even feel a hint of the warmth Christmas day often brings you.

When dinner is over and your mum tells the both of you it’s time for your annual Christmas pictures, it becomes even more awkward—as if that was possible.

His arm falls over your shoulder like dead weight, his fingers don’t even hold you in place. So when you wrap your arm around his waist, you barely make an effort to hold him close to you. Your smiles are forced on your faces, no dimples biting at his cheeks, your lips almost look pressed together instead of showing a toothy grin to the camera like you’ve always done before.

Your mum sighs but takes a picture anyway. She has no idea why you two are acting this way but she doesn’t care, she just wants a cute picture. “Oh c’mon kids, where’s the kiss?”

A roll of your eyes is what your mum sees, and she’s about to scold you when you say in a forced amused tone, “Think we’re a bit too old for mistletoe kisses now, no?”

Silence again. Second after second of quietness that only makes the weight on your shoulders heavier.

It’s ironic how much heavier it feels when Ross lifts his arm off your shoulders and lets it fall limply on his side at the same time as he agrees, “We are.”

You take your arm off his waist instantly. You’re left standing awkwardly beside the other and despite your mum’s confusion, which is clear in her frown, she presses the shutter and the picture is taken and begins printing in a blink of an eye.

As soon as the whirring of the printing polaroid stops, you regret ever letting those words out of your mouth.

Because not only do you get a hasty hug from Ross when he and his parents leave your house, the next morning is accentuated by the lack of his presence.

No more ‘sweetheart’. No more pictures of kisses on cheeks under the mistletoe. No lazy Boxing day morning.

And, apparently, no walking to Matty’s together either.

You’ve been waiting for his call all day. First, to see if he was coming over to show each other your presents like you always do, but no call came through. And now, you’re three hours into waiting for him to call you and tell you to walk out so you can go to Matty’s together for the gift exchange.

No call comes and since you’ve been ready to go for a while and you don’t want to be late, you just rush downstairs and leave.

Walking down the roads you’ve missed so much, alone, is another wave of pain that you didn’t know you could feel just by the absence of someone. No one has ever meant this much to you before that the lack of their presence chips away at your heart, piece by piece.

When you get to the Healy residence, you get crushing hugs from everyone that’s already there. Except from Ross, of course, because he’s already there, splayed on a loveseat and he barely makes the effort to hug you hello.

As the inevitable catching up happens all over again, since you’re still waiting for the rest of your friend group to arrive, you have to hide the truth and put on a fake smile when talking about how university is going. But it’s hard when you have no new friends, and you’re struggling through most of your classes thanks to how homesick you feel.

Change is a nightmare to you and you’re reminded of how much things are changing at a quick pace when an hour goes by and no one else shows up.

Seems like no matter how vocal about the promise of always coming back Danielle had been, she and Sarah weren’t coming at all. Jodie shares a sad smile with you and puts away the gift bags from them, leaving only the ones for everyone who’s currently there.

The warmth you have been craving since you got there finally washes over you when everyone opens up their gifts. Laughter, cooing and many thank yous go around the living room, it gives you the hope that maybe it’s not been all ruined.

You’re looking forward to the New Year’s Eve party until George asks Ross if he’s asked Katie about it and the way Ross blushes is enough for everyone but you and Jodie to start a ruckus, teasing and making jokes about the girl and Ross.

“Yes, she’s coming over on the 31st…” Ross sighs, rubbing his flushed face to hide how flustered he’s gotten. But then he drops his hand and looks around the place, brows shooting up and eyes widening like he’s giving a warning, “You lot better play nice.”

However, it’s the way his eyes grow stern when they fall on you that you know he means it seriously when it comes to you.

So you take it seriously.

You know you’ve been the one to put this tension between you and it’s in your hands to right your wrongs, so you want to take this opportunity to apologise for your irrationality on the previous days.

You’ve mentally prepared, gone over what Ross told you the day you got home and recognised how great of a person Katie sounded like. It actually makes you smile when thinking she’s been such a good help for him to adjust to his new teaching gig, how she and Ross have gone through the novelty of it together; and convincing yourself that despite the horrendous feeling that clouds your insides, she’s been a good addition to Ross’ life.

But it doesn’t matter that you’ve reached those conclusions and that you’re actually gotten yourself excited enough to meet her, because when you get to Matty’s with two bottles of vodka and a pack of Ross’ favourite beer—an apology gift if you will—, Ross fully avoids you.

He gives you a tight lip smile and a nod of his head as a hello, he turns to Katie and says, “Katie, this is Y/N.”

You’re left trying to awkwardly act like the fact that Ross has left you with your arms open and awaiting a hug hasn’t hurt you, and you really try your best to push the ugly feeling aside when you smile at her and offer your hand out for her to shake.

“Nice to meet you, Katie. I’ve heard loads about you.”

She blushes and lets out the cutest giggle, and of course it’s that which finally makes Ross smile.

“Oh, really? That’s erm, good to hear.” She finally grabs your hand after giving Ross a side look to which he smirks. You really have to fight the scowl that wants to take over your face when she shakes your hand, “Nice to meet you too.”

He snakes an arm around her waist and you take that as a sign to get yourself away from the situation. Before you can say something you’ll regret even more, or even pick a fight with Ross for his indifference.

The need to call him out for it grows as the night continues, for he doesn’t even look at you. He keeps a straight face when you speak, doesn’t even look at you when you clearly throw a comment or ask a question to him, he doesn’t speak to you at all. And everyone fucking notices, the looks they keep sending your way are enough to know that they know something is wrong.

But you can’t explain, not right then at least. So you keep to yourself, pouring yourself drink after drink, and you start being petty and mirror his behaviour: you laugh louder to annoy him, messing about with George and Matty obnoxiously, ignoring any comment or joke he could make to the rest of the group.

You walk past the line of tipsy and start getting drunker and drunker when midnight gets closer. The memory of how it had been the previous year makes you glare at him. He has her almost sitting on his lap as she delicately takes sip after sip of her cup, and it enrages you that he’s drinking the beer you bought him when he hasn’t even thanked you for it!

How is it that you were kissing him a year ago and now you’re watching him being all lovey dovey with a girl he has just met?

It’s an understatement to say you’re fucking pissed by midnight. George has been laughing at your clumsiness for a while now, but he has joined you when you started drinking the vodka straight from the bottle instead of mixing it with fizzy lemonade like you had been all night.

When the countdown starts, you set the almost empty vodka bottle on the coffee table and start screaming along.

Matty is beside you and he grabs your shoulders and shakes you in excitement, making you laugh loudly, but you let yourself fall back so you’re resting over his chest and he rests his chin on your shoulder, counting down right in your ear.

It is the second everyone yells, “Happy New Year!” that you act before your brain can process and, suddenly, you’re kissing Matty.

He gasps when your lips meet and you lick into his mouth, but the curly haired brunette doesn’t pull back, instead he cups your face and tilts your head to put you in an angle where he can kiss you comfortably and he even moans into your mouth when your fingers tangle in his curls and pull on them.

The surprise of what’s happening is enough to make everyone gasp instead of wishing each other a happy new year, and soon whistles and ruckus drowns the room. Everyone but Ross participates in the disturbance. The bassist is biting his tongue as he sees you basically eating Matty’s face. His fingers tighten around Katie’s waist and she turns around to see him when she feels the change in his hold.

Ross forces a smile and Katie gasps, “I didn’t know they were a thing!”

“Me neither,” he manages out through his teeth.

It doesn’t matter that he’s doing a poor job at hiding what’s going through his head because Katie is more interested in seeing what happens next with you and Matty.

The feeling of tears rolling down your cheeks and tasting the saltiness in the kiss, makes Matty pull back. He hears you whine and you pucker up your lips to continue the kiss but Matty pulls back, clutching your face a bit tighter so you can open your eyes and look at him while he whispers, “Do you wanna leave Y/N/N?”

Matty knows you far better than you think and he knows that this kiss has no other meaning behind it other than the fact that you’re too drunk and he’s quite sure he knows why you have been so reckless with your drinking tonight. And, despite being drunk himself, he has to try and get a hold of his bearings and help you out.

You nod, embarrassed when another tear rolls down your cheek. When he wipes it with his thumb before anyone can see it, you whisper back, “Can we go up to your room? Can’t be here anymore.”

His curls bounce on his head when he nods and you’re grateful he holds you by your waist when you stand up and walk upstairs to his room.

“Y’alright?” Matty asks when he closes the door behind the two of you.

You wait until he sets you on the edge of his bed to answer, “No.”

He knows it’s all because of Ross, not only because of his behaviour tonight, but maybe because you felt some type of way for his best mate and now you were stuck in this situation. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not– Don’t apologise. This is just me being fucking stupid, expecting everything to be the same when I came back home.” The despair is clear in your voice and he kneels in front of you when you let your head hang for the tears can’t be stopped anymore. You shake your head as you think about all that you have felt for months and how, after tonight, the feelings that have flooded your system are just the same, “But I’m so sad, Matty. I’m so lonely.”

It breaks his heart to hear you like this, when your shoulders shake as you silently sob, he squeezes your thighs to make you look into his eyes when he says, “You’ve got us. Always.”

Another shake of your head breaks his heart, your words not helping at all when you say, “Not back there. I wish I did.”

Matty knows it is not the moment to ask about it, but he will ask how you truly are doing in London afterwards. For now, he brushes your hair behind your ears and asks, “Do you want me to stay?”

“Please?” Your voice breaks when you add, “I don’t wanna be alone anymore.”

He quickly stands on his feet and crushes you in a hug, “I’m right here, darling. I’ve got you.”

Matty stays with you for a while, and Ross sees red when another ten minutes go by and neither of you come back downstairs. He grabs Katie’s hand and convinces her to leave, and the girl of course accepts because despite really having enjoyed herself, she would rather have Ross all to herself.

Ross stomps his way back home with Katie in hand. He’s fucking fuming at both you and Matty, because of course you would act all childishly when finding out he has met a girl and has been taling to her, and use one of his best mates to get back at him.

He shakes his head and huffs angrily, deciding right then and there that he’s done with your behaviour. And he ignores the feeling that burns his insides at the thought of you and Matty together on a night like this. He chooses to focus on Katie, sweet Katie who’s giggling and sharing her favourite things about tonight.

Stopping in the middle of the road, he wraps an arm around Katie’s waist and presses her flush against his chest, brings a hand up to her face and kisses her passionately.

He shuts his eyes tightly and tries his best not to compare this kiss to the one you had shared a year ago, willing himself to have Katie be all he thinks about from now on.

Even when you come knocking on his door two days later.

A soft smile is on your face when he opens the door and you greet him with a quiet, “Hey.”

“Hi.”

He sounds and looks wary, like he’s trying not to say too much either with his words or his facial expressions.

You sigh, fiddling with your fingers as you let him know, “Erm… I’m going back.”

He frowns, “Already?”

You know it’s odd, it’s the middle of the week and classes don’t start again until Monday so there’s no reason for you to leave in such a hurry, but you just can’t stay here when everything is like this. You had wanted to come back home to spend your time with him, not ruining your friendship in the worst possible way and now, all you wanted to do was run away before you could get yet another chance to fuck things up even more.

“Yeah. Gotta go back.”

“Did you have fun?” Ross asks with a tone in his voice that makes you freeze in your spot.

It feels like it’s a trick question but you can’t really think about why. Mainly because you can’t remember much about the party other than how awful Ross had acted with you, but you don’t want to give him the pleasure of knowing he had been the reason for the way you had drank.

So you try to smile even brighter now, nodding as you reply, “I did. It was really fun.” It hadn’t really, because not only had you been feeling so awful because of him, you had woken up with the worst fucking hangover of your life. Matty had been lovely and helped you until you felt well enough for him to take you back home, but you were still feeling the effects of such a horrible night.

You made a joke of it, very nonchalantly adding, “Still feeling a little rough but it’s alright.”

But since you have no clue of what Ross thinks happened, your words make his stomach churn and he scoffs humourlessly, “Right. Well, I’ll see you next year then.”

The way he says it makes you feel like instead of saying goodbye like you had come over with the intention of doing, he’s pushing you away with a halfhearted farewell to just get it over with.

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek as you try not to cry, and with a small voice you agree, “Yes. You will.”

“Good,” Ross says, though he isn’t sure if he means it or not.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

Katie and Ross had gotten together officially on Valentine’s day of 2008, or so you saw back then when she posted it on Facebook—after Matty had begged you to make yourself a profile on the new social media page, the lads had sent you friend requests and along with them came Katie and a bunch of people from school you had barely ever spoken to.

The biggest change since you left Wilmslow at the very start of the year has been that you barely ever speak to Ross, either through the phone or through messages on Facebook. You had called him on his birthday to congratulate him and so he had done the same when yours approached.

Matty has been the one to take his place, even if it has been in a way different way than what Ross ever was to you. You’re still so incredibly grateful for Matty, he’s the one to help you on your worst days and is a great person to vent to when you couldn’t keep everything to yourself any longer.

With someone there to be entirely transparent to, hearing you and helping you through your struggles, university got the tiniest bit easier.

And though it still wasn’t the greatest thing ever, you were scared of leaving your dorm to take a coach back home for the holidays with how everything had turned out the year before.

So you’re more anxious than excited when you sit by the window and open a book you’ve brought to keep you distracted from your thoughts on the long drive up to Manchester.

It’s futile, for you have to read each paragraph twice and you barely have gotten halfway through the book with how distracted you’ve gotten by your own mind throughout the ride home. Any other day, six hours would be enough for you to finish a three hundred and something pages long book, but not today.

Your dad greets you with the biggest hug at the airport station and once you get inside his car, it feels real enough that you can’t stay still. Not even when you get home and go upstairs to your room after hugging your mum hello.

You’re pacing around your room, sitting on the edge of your bed for a handful of seconds only to spring back up and start pacing again. A vicious cycle that continues for far longer than you would like to admit, until the loud knocking on your front door startles you out of your trance and poses a good excuse to do something.

“I got it!” You yell out to your mum who’s making hot chocolate in the kitchen, and you hum when she thanks you.

When you open the door, Ross greets you with a loud, “Hi!” and a toothy smile that you haven’t seen in ages.

Through the shock, you manage to say, “Oh hi!”

And you become even more shocked when he goes straight to the point, “Heard you’d finally arrived so I thought I’d come by and ask you if you wanted to come over later? You know, to catch up, maybe watch a film and have some hot chocolate…”

“Oh? Yeah, sure. That sounds good,” you somehow manage, but you’re sure your wide eyes and your parted mouth is enough for him to know you’re surprised.

“Brilliant,” he smiles easily and asks just to be sure, “Around six?”

You nod, swallowing hard before answering, “Sure. I’ll be there.”

“Great. I’ll see you then.”

In all honesty, you thought he hated you. With everything that happened a year ago, most of it all being your own fault, you expected to not see him until Boxing day at Matty’s when you were due to exchange gifts, but here he is inviting you over to have a day to yourselves like you used to back in the day.

There’s a spark of hope that brings tears to your eyes. Maybe you haven’t lost him just yet and you couldn’t be happier about it.

Your parents see the change in your demeanour when you come into the kitchen with the brightest smile and let them know you’ll be going to Ross’ house around six to hang out. They truly couldn’t be happier because they had always loved the friendship the two of you shared, and your mum had been highly suspicious about your lack of Ross talk ever since last Christmas.

But you had cheered way too early for when you knock on Ross’ door and he lets you in, you’re met with a smiling Katie in the middle of the living room waving you over.

The shock leaves you frozen in your spot and Ross watches as Katie’s smile falters when she asks if you’re alright. Ross doesn’t even have to see your face to see how tense you are and the tone in your voice when you say, “Yes! I’m fine. Sorry. It’s so good to see you again.” is enough for him to know this is gonna cost you some effort.

You take one of the settees while Katie takes her place on the loveseat across from you and Ross is off to the kitchen to bring the mugs of hot chocolate he had promised.

When he’s back, you and Katie are exchanging some lighthearted small talk. He hands you a mug and hopes that with his presence there, he can help you and Katie to get to know each other better. After all, he still considered you one of his best friends and Katie had now been his girlfriend for ten months, so it’s well overdue to have you and Katie properly getting along.

But it seems like that isn’t happening any time soon. You’re trying your best not to be awkward, to be nice and find interest in everything she’s saying but Ross knows you so well, anger starts boiling his blood when he sees how much you’re forcing it all.

It doesn’t sit well with him how you can’t even hack simple conversation with his girlfriend, and despite a voice inside his head pointing out that you really are trying, he can’t help but become more and more infuriated by the lack of sincerity of your words and behaviour.

The last nail in the coffin is when you cut short one of Katie’s stories about one of her and Ross’ dates and say that you’re sorry but you need to head back home. And, even when Katie points out it’s just a quarter to ten, you hold your ground and continue saying you really needed to go.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you,” Ross says once he’s shut the door behind him as he walks you out.

You turn around to see him rubbing his face in exhaustion, “Excuse me?”

He groans, exasperated, “Can you just, for once, not be a bitch to her?”

Your mouth opens agape at his choice of words and you struggle to find your words, “What? How am I–”

“You are! You know damn well you are!” He interrupts with fury, “I thought it had just been bad last year ‘cause it was your first time coming back home for the holidays and it was a bit of an intrusion to have her join our friend group, but now? There’s no excuse for how fucking fake you’re being to her.”

Like a fish out of water, your mouth opens and closes as you try to find what to say, “Ross, I–”

It isn’t good enough for him and he interrupts, “No, I don’t wanna hear it.”

He can see the tears welling up your eyes and he has to stop himself from rolling his, “You either treat her like a decent human being or–,” he trails off as he thinks. It is then that he looks at you sternly and spits out with venom laced through his words, “Or maybe, you know what? You should just leave. Go back to London.”

Words could never describe that pain that ripples through your body when he says that, you can barely say with a broken voice, “If that’s what you want.”

And not even the fact that you’re about to sob stops him from being so harsh on you. He nods, “I do. It’s for the best of everyone here that you just go.”

“Okay,” you whisper before turning on your heels and walking quickly down the road, rushing to go into your house.

Your mum and dad see the desperation with which you open the door and slam it shut behind you, and they barely catch the tears running down your cheeks when you run upstairs and lock yourself in your room.

Toeing off your shoes, you walk up to your window and shut the curtains, to then turn off your lights and in utter darkness, you shed yourself of your clothes and put on your pyjamas before hiding yourself under your sheets and starting to sob.

Your chest hurts with every cry that you try to smother by pressing your face into your pillow, and it is right then that you know you won’t be able to stay for long. You will unfortunately give Ross the pleasure of listening to his words and go back to London, but not before actually having Christmas dinner with your family and giving everyone their Christmas gifts on Boxing day. You would endure only two more days and then you would be gone. Spending New Years alone in your dorm didn’t sound as depressing as spending it here where you didn’t feel welcome anymore, not with Ross right there.

Before Christmas dinner, your mum sends you over with a big gingerbread cake for the MacDonalds; since they aren’t coming over for dinner that year, as Katie was spending it with Ross and his parents, the tradition of sending over treats has come alive again.

You’re so grateful that it is his mum to open the door, not feeling strong enough to see his face again. But it’s extremely hard for you not to let your tears spill down the corners of your eyes when she invites you inside to share the treat with everyone. You politely decline and instead make her laugh when you have her promise to let you know how she finds the cake.

Throughout the whole of Christmas dinner with your parents, your mind is gone somewhere else. You barely touch your food and can’t really keep track of the conversation they try to lure you into. After dinner is over and you’ve put the dirty dishes on the dishwasher, you manage to focus enough to appreciate the gifts your parents got for you and to relish in the reactions to the gifts you got them.

Unfortunately, as you go on Facebook to wish Matty, George and Adam a merry Christmas, you catch a glimpse of a picture Ross has uploaded only a few hours ago, and it’s needless to say that your heart breaks in a billion pieces and you sob yourself to sleep like a fool.

How could you not when he’s posted a picture of Katie and him kissing under the mistletoe, reminding you of a tradition that’s now long gone, along with your friendship it seems.

And when you wake up and spend the entire morning of Boxing day alone, falling in and out of sleep, you’re reminded of yet another tradition you used to share that is far gone and adds to your heartache.

Your anguish makes you lose track of time and your appetite, and apparently your rationality as well because you spend hours making a pros and cons list in your mind about showing up to Matty’s before you realise you should just go and give everyone the presents you had already spent your money on. You’re leaving anyway and it would be far better if you just didn’t have all those gifts to look back to and remind you just how everything has turned out this year.

Plus, you had made a promise to keep coming back to see them every year and, after Sarah and Danielle had broken that promise the very first chance it had been time to prove it, you didn’t want to follow their steps.

However, since you’ve wasted all day trying to make that decision, you’re definitely late to the gift exchange.

By the time you get there, you look like an utter mess from how quickly you had gotten ready and how fast you had walked over there, but everyone greets you with sweet smiles and warm hugs.

Everyone but Ross. Yet again. Even Katie envelopes you in a tight hug that you reciprocate, but Ross merely pats your back when you swing an arm around his shoulder to hug him.

You sigh and try brushing it off as you sit beside Matty, who wastes no time to hug you into him and ask if you were alright. Nodding, you assure him wordlessly you were but your eyes say you’re going to talk to him about it later and he nods in understanding.

“Are we gonna start now, then, or what?” Ross says grumpily. He had been the one annoyed at your impunctuality, pushing everyone to just get on with it and not wait for you anymore.

No one will tell you this because it just wouldn’t help at all.

Everyone in the room can see that things between you and Ross are somehow worse than last year, even Katie can tell and it confuses her a lot, because all had been fine when you had come over on Christmas Eve and the three of you had spent the evening together.

Katie doesn’t even know if she should ask. In all honesty, she doesn’t know how to even ask or if she should ask you or Ross or both.

But she puts the matter to the side when you all start exchanging gifts—knowing that Katie was joining this year, everyone has gotten her gifts as well so the girl truly feels like a part of the group—and it is a nice distraction from the clear tension in the room when everyone gets to open their presents.

When Ross thanks you last for what you’ve gotten him with the meekest tone, you have to really force a smile to say, “You’re welcome.” But everyone can see just how much of an effort it is for you to sound nonchalant about it.

Matty is about to snap out at Ross for being an absolute twat when you stand up after gathering all of your gift bags and announce, “Well, I unfortunately gotta go now boys.”

George frowns, “What? Why?”

“It’s barely eight, Y/N,” Adam reminds you softly.

The shake of your head confuses them more and so do your words, “I mean go back to London. I can’t stay longer this year.”

Matty is the one who’s more vocal about his confusion, his words clearly a brutal inquiry as to your reasoning since he knows how much you’d rather be anywhere else but in uni, “Why? Where are you spending New Years? In your dorm?”

“Yeah, it’s just,” you trail off when you can’t really find something to say. Your eyes shift to look at Ross, the reason for your early goodbye, and the second your eyes lock on his, he averts his gaze like he has nothing to do with this. You sigh and excuse, “Something came up, and I really gotta go.”

No one buys it, but they still hug you the tightest they can before bidding you farewell.

“Hope you have the best time on New Year’s Eve. Happy New Year you lot!” You call out as you walk to the front door, “Love yous!”

Alone and in a silence that sickens you, you walk back home.

When you get there, you can’t stop the tears that slide down your cheeks when you tell your parents you’re going back early and you don’t even let your dad offer himself to drive you to the station for you swear you’ve got a ride and it’s all fine.

They want to ask what’s wrong but they don’t when they see the fact that you don’t want to talk about it written on your face. So they leave you to go upstairs and into your room to pack your things up as you silently cry over how poorly it has all gone.

This is the second year you feel like Ross is slipping away from your grasp, and it has you desperate but the only person you have to blame is yourself, for feeling that stupid ownership over him when he isn’t yours, when he has never been yours.

You should be mature enough to keep his friendship, not ruin it because you’re jealous and you feel alone. You should be happy he’s found someone to appreciate him for who he is, to give him the love he deserves when you are gone.

The feeling of disappointment in yourself haunts you as you walk down the stairs and hug your parents goodbye. And that feeling slaps you in the face like the cold winds of December, when you open the door and walk out to Ross waiting there.

He doesn’t say anything though, not when you gasp at his presence, not when you walk up to him and stand right beside him as you wait for the taxi you had phoned to pick you up.

You’re there staring ahead, wishing he was as selfish and horrible as yourself, wishing he would just beg you to stay and say he’d leave his girlfriend behind so you could take her place.

But Ross isn’t selfish nor a bad person like you are. He just stands there in silence and lets his presence be company and goodbye enough for you to settle before you’re gone again.

He offers you a cigarette that you take gracefully, and he lights it up for you without needing to hear you ask for it. The two of you stand there, side by side, smoking together in utter silence.

Your taxi gets there shortly after and he silently watches you put your case in the boot of the car before you throw the cigarette onto the pavement and stomp on it. You open the back door and take one last look at him before getting inside the vehicle.

Not a wave nor a goodbye, much less a hug. Nothing but silence is what he offers as you go.

It isn’t until you get further and further away, disappearing in the distance and becoming smaller as you drive away in the back of that taxi that his gaze drops to the pavement to watch the bud of the cigarette crushed, and it is then that Ross realises he hadn’t heard you cough, not even once, and he frowns to himself.

He really doesn’t know you anymore and he can’t help but wonder if that is for the better.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

A/N: Part 2 is coming to you in exactly a week so don't yell at me just yet please!!! I promise I'll make it up to you. Let me know what you thought and what you hope happens next! It seems a bit cruel to wish you a merry Christmas after this but I really do hope yous all have a lovely Christmas! xx

Taglist: @imagine-that-100 @kennedy-brooke @abiiors @everythinggetsfuzzy103 @on-administrative-leave @ughgoaway @harryssiren @2kwreck @obses-sedd @scarlett-grace-2 @taylorswiftsrep-blog @solitariodecartas @cherryofmydesire @momentum2023 @soggynoodles02 (i wasn't sure who wanted to be tagged or not so send me a message if you wanna be off the taglist for this story)

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ilyasorokinn · 6 months

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thank the donkey , ross macdonald

note, okay, originally, there was going to be a big halloween series, but i couldn't think of anything that really spoke to me and i wasn't inspired, but i was inspired to write for ross. so, this is my contribution to the holiday. this is my new personality trait, get used to it. also, lmk if you like this little family because i do and would like to write more if you'd want to see it :) another note, i tried to find photos of the costumes but couldn't so please just use your imagination :) last note, dedicating this to vee (@abiiors)! i was inspired by your dad!ross, so in my world, ross is also a girl dad and names his daughters after flowers lol love ya <3 pair, ross macdonald x reader summary, poppy macdonald is upset her dad is working on halloween. her dad is even more upset he has to work. so, he does the best he can to make the night special for her. warnings, kids/children word count, 1240 words (a little short, i know. but i promise it's sweet!)

(gif not mine)

Halloween, no matter how old you were, was your favorite holiday. When you were growing up, most of the other kid's favorite holiday was Christmas, not you. Maybe it was that your parents went all out, or maybe it was that they let you eat all the candy you wanted, but it left a lasting mark on you.

So, when you had your first daughter, her second Halloween (the first you really celebrated with her), you went all out. You and Ross dressed up as poppies and Poppy was a gardener. She had no idea what was going on but she found it hilarious that her parents were wearing weird big flower things on their heads.

Now, Poppy was four, and her little sister, Willow, was 10 months old. Poppy had inherited your love for Halloween and by August had her Halloween costume planned. She wanted to match with you and Ross which made you a little sad, knowing that Ross would have to work on Halloween.

When you did tell her he was working, she was sad but her mood brightened a little when you told her she could still dress up for the show.

She was very adamant about being Donkey from Shrek, so you did your best to make that happen. The band loved the idea of Shrek, so they each decided to follow in your daughter's footsteps and dress up as a different character and assigned themself different characters.

Poppy was Donkey, Willow would be Puss in Boots, Gabbriette would be the Fiona to your Shrek, Matty would be Lord Farquaad while George, Adam, and Ross would be the Three Blind Mice. John would be the Dragon, Jamie would be Pinocchio, Polly would be the Big Bad Wolf and Gabrielle would be the Fairy Godmother.

Poppy was completely oblivious to everyone's costumes and was just excited to get to dress up and eat candy all night.

On the day, you walked around Detroit and got her some candy from a couple of stores that were handing it out before you headed over to the arena for soundcheck, one of Poppy's favorite parts of the concerts. She got to go on stage and dance around with her uncle and dad.

Before the show, after Ross helped you dress the girls, and after he'd left to get himself ready, Gabbriette came in and watched the girls briefly while you got ready, and took pictures of you and the girls before Willow started to cry. You soothed her then slipped headphones onto both her and Poppy. Poppy's headphones had a pair of donkey ears glued on and Willow's had a pair of cat ears.

You heard the intro to the opening song and held Poppy's hand as you walked to the side of the stage where you watched the show. Willow sat in the baby Bjorn comfortably and watched from the stage with wide eyes.

"Mommy." Poppy gasped when she saw the band dressed up as the characters from her favorite movie.

"I know." You gasped with the same enthusiasm as you bent down to her level, "Look at Uncle Matty." You giggled with her when she saw what he was wearing.

Ross looked over to the side of the stage and waved at Poppy, who giggled and waved back shyly. Poppy couldn't stop smiling as she looked at the band's costumes.

Somewhere in the middle of the set, Matty finally addressed the crowd and addressed their crazy costumes, "Now, I know we look a little crazy right because we're missing our main characters, but I'll have you know this idea was formed because of my little goddaughter. She loves Shrek, and I mean, who doesn't?" The crowd cheered at that.

"So, the littlest MacDonald is Donkey and her mom is Shrek. Strange, I don't know how we got there, but here we are." He shrugged, keeping everything about your daughter vague because he knew you and Ross didn't want people knowing too much about Poppy or Willow, "So, anyways, everyone thank Donkey for this genius idea." Matty and Ross looked over to the side of the stage where Poppy was beaming at the sound of the cheers.

The rest of the show went on as normal and right before Ross turned off the lights, Poppy ran onto the stage and over to her dad, which sent the crowd into a frenzy because Little MacDonald, Donkey herself, was on stage. The lights were strobing so there wasn't a clear image of her face which was why she was on the stage in the first place.

Ross picked her up and carried her over to the giant light switch that would turn off the lights on the stage. He waited a few seconds before he gave her a nod and she pulled the lever, shutting the lights off on the stage.

He carried her offstage and once she was in the safety wings, she was off and running to greet her uncles and godfather. Ross removed Willow from the Bjorn, surprised that she was still awake because it was way past her bedtime.

Now baby-free, you gladly accepted the drink Gabbriette was handing you, "She's gonna be up a while, isn't she?" Ross asked.

"I'm hoping for a sugar crash," You smiled, watching George pick up Poppy and run around with her like an airplane, "You did amazing tonight, by the way." You nudged him.

"Yeah, I had a donkey and an ogre to impress." He teased.

"I'm gonna save the smack in the head for later because you're holding my baby." You narrowed your eyes at him.

"I love you, too." He wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you followed everyone else into whichever room would be used as the afterparty room.

You rolled your eyes, "I love you, too, even if you're mean to me sometimes." In response, he placed a kiss on your head.

When you made it to the room, Matty was standing outside with Poppy, who was pouting, "Why can't I go in?" She whined.

"It'll ruin the surprise, Pop." He explained, tapping her on the head, "You like surprises, don't you?" She nodded her head enthusiastically, "Then just wait a second." Poppy turned to you and frowned.

"Listen to your uncle, flower," Ross told her. She frowned and crossed her arms, "Just wait a second." He laughed.

A few seconds later, Matty opened the door and nodded over to Poppy, "Cmere." She skipped over to him, gasping when she saw what was in the room.

The best part of Halloween, in any kid's eyes, was trick-or-treating, and everyone knew that Poppy was a little upset she was missing it, so in the biggest room in the arena, everyone spread out with little bags of candy, creating a makeshift version trick-or-treating.

"Here's your bag." Matty handed her a big bag before tapping her on the head once more. She didn't need to be told twice before she was running into the room from person to person, gathering candy.

You looked over at Ross, who was smiling with pride, "You planned this, didn't you?"

"Halloween's her favorite." He shrugged, before producing your favorite candy bar from his pocket, "Like her mother's." He kissed your head again, smiling as Poppy giggled.

"You're amazing, Ross MacDonald, you know that?" You smiled up at him.

"Says you." He nudged you, smiling equally as big and squeezing your shoulder.

my taglist: @romanticingheroin @sadqn1 @befrwime @mattymybeloved @zzzhealy @fanaticalfantasist @thefrontofmymind @scooby-doodoo @because-she-goes @imogennjordan

add yourself to my taglist!

#taylor writes #taylor writes: 1975 #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald imagines #the 1975 imagine #the 1975 imagines #ross macdonald #the 1975 #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald blurbs #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald fanfic #ross macdonald fanfiction #the 1975 fic #the 1975 blurbs #the 1975 fanfiction #the 1975 fanfic

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abiiors · 11 months

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Lessons in Patience

oh, uh, happy birthday to him and time for me to disappear after posting this...

warnings: minors dni, orgasm denial, she/her pronouns, maybe just a smidge toxic idk, cockwarming??? typos maybe; it is what it is, anyway enjoy...

wc: 4k

the minimalist, modern round clock on the wall ticks by mercilessly slow.

the office is fully his space, designed to his tastes and likes, and she, the intruder. sure, she’s a very very welcome intruder but an interloper regardless. and there’s not much she can do but peak at her husband over the edge of the book she’s been reading for the past half an hour. or trying to at least. just in the last five minutes, she’s read the same three lines at least seven times. it’s of no use but, the other option is to sit and stare at ross while he works. which is always a good option. except today.

in his fitted black button-down, that’s tastefully unbuttoned, he looks like the stuff of her fantasies. he has always been, of course, but the way his gold chain peeks out and grazes the hollow of his throat every time he moves, makes her think all kinds of thoughts. his mouth is parted in concentration, pink lips that he occasionally gnaws on, and his thick brows furrow as he intensely stares at whatever’s on the screen.

and while it’s enough to turn her thoughts extremely filthy, the realisation that he hasn’t been paying her any attention douses cold water on her for the millionth time.

‘ross,’ she calls out, desperately trying to keep the neediness out of her voice, ‘how much longer?’

he hums distractedly without looking up, ‘need to read this thing before i sign it, my love.’

obviously, that’s not the answer she’s looking for. “need to read the thing” can range from anywhere between ten minutes to an hour, and he’s so focused on it too.

‘baby, take a break!’

he shakes his head minutely, ‘we just had lunch, darling, an hour ago.’

‘yeah, but…’ she trails off because it’s useless. he’s clearly not listening.

bent over his slick macbook, hand rubbing his face occasionally, he is the utter portrait of focus. her mind wanders to the drawers of his desk where she knows she’ll find the small toy. this is not her first rendezvous here; nor would it be her last. that desk has seen a lot of things; from their first scandalous hookup in a moment of weakness, to multiple quickies when she has come over. there was even that one time when she had knelt between his legs as he tried to focus on a zoom interview. matty had gone on and on with his thoughtful answers till ross eventually muted the thing and tangled his fingers in her hair. she snickers at the sudden sympathy she feels for the inanimate object. not that it makes ross waver even a smidge. if only, he leans closer to the screen. it’d certainly be a shame if she were to be a…distraction.

because there is always a third option.

she pushes herself off the plush settee and saunters over to him purposefully. this has been going on for a week now and she’s had enough of it! enough of him coming home by the time she’s just starting her day, enough of him being dead asleep by the time she returns. and this is not to blame him, of course. she knows how busy he can get once they start getting closer to the release date. but she’s had enough of not seeing him for more than a few hours throughout the week. despite them living together.

a finger trails down the side of his jaw. down his neck too. she makes sure to use her nail, red-painted and sharp, and halts it right over his pulse point.

‘lunch was two hours ago.’ a pout. an exaggerated one, sure, but it does the job because he chuckles at her restlessness.

‘fine, two hours ago. that’s still not a long time.’

‘isn’t it?’ now she’s just being petulant. she leans down, lips hovering right over where her finger was just a moment ago and trails them down his neck the same way. he stills. ‘it could be great if you took a quick break…’

this she whispers suggestively and leaves the thought half-finished so his brain might try and fill in the gaps. and it works like a charm.

‘oh,’ he breathes softly, his focus now wavering slightly, but he hasn’t set the laptop aside and turned all his attention to her. not yet.

‘baby…’ he warns but his voice lacks its usual conviction. torn between work and wife, ross fidgets for a second. ‘i only need a little more time…’

‘you’ve said that to me twice already.’ another kiss. this time, she even strokes his bicep and the muscles under his black shirt respond to her touch.

‘oh you’re impatient, aren’t you?’ he turns to her partially, only looking at her through the corner of his eye but it’s enough. she’s so close to achieving her goal that she can almost taste it.

taste him.

‘so what if i am?’

‘i said,’ his voice takes on a commanding tone, ‘wait a little more.’

on any other day, she would have obeyed the tone almost instantly. she likes their little routine where he’s in control, likes riling him up enough that he reminds her of it. not today though. today she has no patience fo it.

‘and i said,’ she grits out, equally testy and bold, ‘i want your attention.’

‘that’s all you want?’ he challenges.

‘mmm, for now.’

cheekily, she sidles up to him to find an in, one opening to slide onto his lap. but with one huge hand on her hip, he holds her firmly in place.

ross shakes his head, one eyebrow raised in warning, ‘are you in a mood?’

about to protest indignantly, she opens her mouth. instead, a squeal comes out when he sharply tugs her towards him.

‘are you that desperate for me?’ he asks again when she’s firmly trapped between his thighs. his voice, his whole demeanour has shifted entirely. now the man in front of her is staring at her intently; his pupils so dilated that his eyes look black. and she’s not just trapped physically, no, he also has her hooked on him. because she simply cannot look away even when a flush creeps up her cheeks.

‘answer me, darling,’ he mocks while his fingers grip her hips even tighter. ‘not going to run your mouth anymore?’

that snaps her back quickly, just as quickly as the wetness pools between her legs. ‘and if i say yes?’ she challenges right back, ‘are you going to do something about it?’

another sudden tug and now she’s landed right in his lap, right where she has been trying to get. her breath leaves her body the minute she feels his bulge press against her crotch.

‘oh you really are being a brat today, huh.’ fingers grabbing harshly at her chin so he can make her look at him, ‘my little attention whore. you want my cock? will that shut you up?’

she nods as much as his grip allows her to. still, it’s enthusiastic and more than a little desperate. the sound of him unzipping his trousers makes her grind her hips in anticipation. her hands move swiftly, fidgeting to take him out of his trousers and boxers but ross wraps a hand around her wrist.

the man has saintly patience. and right now it’s a fucking problem.

‘you only get,’ he speaks slowly, as if to drill each word into her, ‘what i give you. do you understand?’

too eager to even protest, she nods quickly but he’s not satisfied. ‘use your words, my love,’ he taunts and slides her underwear to the side, ‘tell me you understand.’

‘i do,’ she whines, ‘i’ll only get what you give me. but please, just—’

she’s cut off quickly by a harsh kiss; teeth biting her lower lip till she gasps. his tongue runs over the spot, soothing and teasing before he slips it inside her mouth. his hands, once again back on her hips, lift her up until she feels the familiar feeling of his tip nudging against her.

she slowly sinks onto him, adjusting to the delicious thickness of him, stretched out just enough to straddle the boundary between painful and pleasurable. mindnumbing.

his hands hold her down, giving her time to adjust to him she thinks, but…

but when she tries to move, he doesn’t let her.

‘ah ah,’ he tuts, ‘what did i just say? you,’ he kisses the corner of her mouth, ‘will only,’ another kiss, ‘get what i give you.’

and with that he turns around to his laptop once again, completely unfazed by anything.

flabbergasted would be an understatement.

for a moment, nothing else registers. not the desk digging into her back, not the clacking of his keys, not even his breath on her neck. the only thing she feels is him, thick and hard inside her and the urge to move, to grind against him, to create some friction. the ache between her legs intensifies tenfold.

‘wha—’

‘you wanted my attention so desperately and now you have it.’ he answers it so nonchalantly that she wonders for one insane moment if she’s imagining him inside her. ‘now are you going to be a good girl let me finish this?’

‘no–’

‘or are you going to complain and whine?’

his interruptions have her seething. this is torture and he’s doing it on purpose; making her keep his dick wet while he continues to ignore her. and acting like the feeling of her tight cunt and her hard breathing doesn’t bother him one bit when she can feel him twitching inside her.

what had he called her before? a brat? she’ll show him what a brat is.

with renewed determination, she lifts up her hips, ready to sink down on him again, ready to set the pace but he calls out her name in warning. a sound that sends a million shivers down her spine.

‘i’m going to give you one last chance.’ his eyes bore into hers, dark and unflinching, ‘be still for me. until i tell you to move. you know what good girls get?’

oh so now he wants to play games. fine then, she’ll indulge him. ‘what?’

he leans closer, mouth right next to her ear, breath hot on her neck, ‘good girls get to cum. you want that don’t you?’

yes, yes she does, very desperately. but she doesn’t like his tone, doesn’t like being denied things after displaying a saintly amount of patience all week.

‘i can make myself cum,’ she huffs. her tone is not nearly as haughty as she wants it to be but haughtiness is not the point of this. this is a trap and she needs him to walk into it. take the bait.

ross only raises an eyebrow because seemingly, he knows her better than she knows herself at this point. he’s calling her bluff.

‘no, i’m serious!’ her hand trails down, making sure to graze against his chest on the way. heart beating faster than ever, she smirks at him right as she rests it right above her clit.

he moves, just the smallest amount, and a jolt of lightning runs through her entire body so fast that she almost falls onto him. she can imagine this, face into the crook of his neck while he lazily fucks into her, slowly and leisurely until she’s had enough of this pace. then he would grab her hips and make her bounce up and down on his cock till she’s limp with pleasure.

all of this if she showed some patience.

but no.

she wants him now. not twenty, ten, five minutes later. now.

her finger rests on her clit and she sucks in a sharp breath, about to flip the tables on him. she’s salivating at the idea…oh, how tortured he would look, how angry. he would surely forget all about his work then…

a hand roughly closes around her wrist and yanks it away. her eyes meet his, dark and angry. no, he’s livid.

‘i warned you, love. didn’t i?’

*****

a buzzing sound fills the room, almost menacing, while she lies splayed on the desk, hands tied together with his belt. a thrill of anticipation shoots down her spine. this is what she’s been waiting for all day, well a much tamer iteration of it but she has no one but herself to blame for it really. she had squealed the second he pulled out of her and cleared the desk with one swoop of his hand. not that there was much on it, to begin with, but watching him “prepare it” was thrilling just the same. plus there’s the knowledge that anyone can hear what’s going on. yes, his office is locked and almost sound-proof but who’s to say they won’t still be interrupted by a knock or a phone call or any other number of factors?

‘look at you…’ he walks towards her now, the tiny bullet vibrating in his hands. her underwear has long been discarded to one side and her dress is now pushed up to her stomach; all of her lower half on display for him. ‘all eager and pathetic.’

it seemed like all her brattiness had paid off, it seemed like a reward…at first. but now the vibrator buzzes closer to her swollen clit, almost touching, almost—

her thoughts are cut off when he abruptly presses it against her. a sharp cry rings out, her legs going taut instantly as she melts into the sensation. he moves it again, down her slit and back up again spreading delicious tingles all over her body.

‘feels so good…’ she breathes out. three words, that’s as much as she can get out at the moment.

‘does it?’

she hums in response, she thinks so anyway because the bullet circles her clit lightly again. the toy rests against her just long enough for her to get used to it before he moves it away. he ups the setting, making her jerk violently. it’s sudden, it’s amazing and she almost doesn’t register that there’s something in his tone.

‘just like that…’ she gasps softly as toy runs over her inner thighs and then against her opening.

‘just like that, yeah?’ he repeats her words back to her and she gasps out a yes in response. the darker tone lingers, but none of it matters as the familiar knot builds at the base of her spine. a moan as her back arches off the desk, she’s so close, so…

it stops.

he stops altogether.

a feeling of annoyance and borderline anger washes over her. ‘why did you stop?!’

through her half-open eyes, she can see his arched eyebrows, mouth quirked to one side in amusement. ‘you think you deserve to cum? what did i say to you before hmm?’

She tries to jog her memory while the bullet comes to life once again.

‘come on, darling,’ he mocks, ‘i haven’t got all day. what did i say before?’

he rests the vibrator on her lower stomach, inching it downward at a snails pace as she tries to come up with an answer, ‘umm, ahh, i don–i don’t remember.’

‘yes you do.’ his finger slides up her slit, collecting her wetness and spreading it on the tip of the bullet. ‘what did i say about getting to cum?’

‘ahh, oh,’ she tries to speak but it turns into breathless garble as soon as the tip nears her clit again. ‘you said—you said good girls get—fuck, ross please!’

‘good girls get what? hmm? go on,’ he asks again and lifts the bullet up and away from her leaving her feeling cold and whiney and much more frustrated than before. the belt digs into her wrists as she struggles against it, not enough to cause any serious harm, but she knows they would be red by now.

‘good girls get to cum,’ she spits out glaring at him with as much anger as she can muster. of course, he’s ready with his next question.

‘and have you been a good girl?’

the cycle starts again, vibrator purring right above her clit, then moving down mercilessly slow until her thoughts turn to mush and yet she’s somehow expected to form a coherent answer.

‘have you?’ he asks again, ‘really think about it.’ his thumb joins the vibrator this time, calloused and rough, as he rubs her in tandem.

‘i can be–i will be, plea–fuck, i promise please.’ a string of incoherent pleas come out of her mouth the harder he goes. her legs shake and spasm, she’s so close again, almost there, almost ready to make a mess on the table but ross has other plans.

he tuts and takes away her pleasure once again.

‘you can be, i know you can,’ he walks to her side, looking down at her now and parts her lips with the thumb that was on her clit a moment ago. ‘but have you been good today?’

thumb pushed in her mouth, she glares once again. tears form at her lower lashline but she won’t let them fall. instead, she flicks her tongue around his thumb in a silent plea.

she can be a good girl for him, she really can.

he laughs darkly and walks away again only to stand right between her legs. she imagines what she must look like to him from this angle. legs spread wide apart and her swollen cunt on display, her thighs must probably be a mess from her wetness. hands tied together above her head. and that he’s clearly enjoying as he eyes her hungrily.

the fire burns hot and hungry, ready to incinerate anything in its wake. her body burns with it; feverish and writing as she tries to grind on his face. his hands dig into her thighs keeping her still in place. she has no agency in this; she is only his plaything. what had she said before? she can make herself cum? well of course he had taken that as a challenge. because now, desperate as she is, nothing would make her let go until he says so.

and he won’t say it until he’s done having his fun.

‘so fucking sweet,’ he hums against her, ‘almost want to let you cum now so i can taste you…’

she’s sure she nods at that. yes, yes, do that. let me. it’s not just for her benefit, it’s for his too. but then he clicks his tongue softly.

‘but you know what they say about patience…’

she doesn’t. that’s what got her here in the first place.

his teeth are on her inner thigh, biting and leaving behind a million red marks that his tongue soothes an instant later. but it doesn’t stop there. his tongue is almost as cruel as his teasing. it laps at her, broad strokes and kitten licks, and swirls around her clit till her thighs are clenched around him and shaking, spasming. maybe he’s finally going to let her cum after denying her time and time again.

‘so close,’ she mumbles in a daze, ‘please i’m going to cum, please.’

‘no you’re not,’ he stops momentarily and her head spins. please not again, not again. the pressure inside her is painful, she feels like she’s about to burst into tiny pieces and yet he has his hand on her stomach, holding her down, holding her together.

‘hold it,’ he commands and sucks on her clit again.

‘i can’t–please, ross, i ca–can’t!’ the tears spill over and she doesn’t care about the begging any more.

‘yes you can,’ he gets up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘if you don’t hold it…well,’ he looks at his laptop and shrugs casually, ‘i do still have two pages left to read. should i–’

‘no!’ she cries out, holding onto the sobs that threaten to spill. for once she’s grateful for the belt tying her hands together, if it weren’t for that, she would have long since ripped out her hair in frustration. ‘no please, i’ll be good, i’ll be a good girl.’

that makes him smirk. ‘now you want to be a good girl for me? would this have happened if you would have sat still for twenty minutes? hmm?’

she shakes her head vigorously. no, it wouldn’t have. her head lolls to one side, too tired from shaking it and ross laughs. it’s languid and careless, like he really could just walk back to his macbook without a second thought. she could be lying almost spreadeagle on his desk all day and none of it would matter until he’s done.

‘my pretty baby,’ he coos, fingers trailing up her thigh and resting at the apex, ‘are you going to be a brat again?’

‘no,’ she mumbles and whines out his name again, ‘i–please, ross, please.’ those are the only words she’s capable of saying anyway. everything else has gone hazy and through it all she sees his lazy grin as he lowers his mouth between her legs again.

‘have you learned your lesson yet?’ spoken so close to her cunt that she feels his gravelly voice shoot straight to her core. she has no idea what she says but it must have satisfied him because his tongue is back on her, so is his thumb.

somewhere the buzzing starts again or it might just be her ears ringing at this point as she loses herself to the tingling feeling in her body. nothing else matters, only him and pleasing him and being a good girl for him. a jolt goes through her whole body at the touch of the vibrator once again. she can’t take it anymore, not again, not—

‘good,’ he hums, tongue dipped between her folds, ‘you can let go now.’

he doesn’t even finish the sentence before she’s moaning the loudest she has, screaming practically as her thighs clench around his head and the knot inside her breaks. waves after waves after waves of pleasure crashing on her until she’s practically drowning in ecstasy. there’s nothing else but his mouth and his voice. she doesn’t know anymore where they are or what day it is or how long she’s been here.

all she knows is that she’s trembling and shaking, head lolled to one side. coming down from her high and cold at the absence of his touch. a few minutes later his hands are back on her thighs along with something damp and cold that feels amazing against her skin. every small graze against her clit makes her wince and he apologises softly, first through his words and then by placing small kisses on her head, her shoulder, her hip, whatever’s closest to him.

‘baby?’ the leather around her wrists loosens and his fingers rub at the red marks as if that would make them go away. maybe they would dissipate a little.

‘hmm?’

she’s surrounded by his scent now and the feeling of his arms around her. ‘can’t keep your eyes open can you?’

‘mm-hmm.’

‘can’t do much of anything it seems.’ his voice is back to being kind and sweet but there’s also some teasing in it and of course, some smugness. he has just fucked her to within an inch of her life of course…and he didn’t shed a single item of clothing.

there’s a brief feeling of floating before she feels solid ground again, it’s a lap. ross’s lap.

‘we’re leaving in ten minutes,’ he tells her. but she’s too far gone to care.

#ross macdonald #ross macdonald fanfic #ross x reader #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald x you #ross x you #ross the 1975 #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald smut #the 1975 #the 1975 fic #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 smut #smut writing #matty healy #george daniel #adam hann #minors do not interact #smut

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mybrokenveins3000 · 8 months

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Freshers - College!Ross Macdonald

A/N: HII!! This is my first time writing anything on Tumblr, let alone the 1975 related. I hope you guys like it. Ignore how my grammar is all over the place, quotation marks and commas confuse me.

I move to university in about two weeks, I doubt anything like this will happen, but a girl can dream. Anyways, enjoy! Also, this is dedicated to @hypersonic04 <3

word count: 1.6k

♫ My Funny Girl - Harry Teardrop // Eighteen - Pale Waves

It's almost been a month since you moved to the city for university. Tonight, you're at a coursemate's flat for Pres. Trashy guilty-pleasure pop blasts through the speakers and you're busy avoiding people, drinking by the window. You watch the condensation trail behind a departing aeroplane over the cityscape. You're thinking about where you are now, the kind of people you brush shoulders with, and how easy it is to feel so desperately alone out here.

Despite the air of maturity and the swill of liquor in your mouth, it always shocked you how laughably predictable university boys can be - especially those on your Film course. It's been a month and you're already bored by the typical film bro spiel of "why Tarantino is the best director of all time" and how "there's something manic pixie dream girl about you".

Speaking of, you feel a tall, masculine shadow cast over you interrupting your intense thinking. Cue the "what's your favourite film" question, you think to yourself.

"What's your favourite film?"

Right, here we go again.

"Depends. Who's asking?" you laugh to yourself, still watching that blinking plane.

"Um, me." Now that felt more like a question.

"And, who are you?" You whip around and see a tall boy in a black hoodie. Who is this? He's cute... is your immediate response to the stranger.

You playfully prod at him with your empty solo cup, "Youuu are not on my course."

He laughs gently, casting his eyes to the floor. Despite his shy cadence, there's an effortlessness and confidence about him that is rare to find among these overgrown teenagers. "No, I'm not. I do History."

You squint and he senses your confusion about his presence at a Film student function.

"I came with him", he gestures over to the couch. The scantily clad, mop-headed, binge-drinking, serial flirt, Matty Healy, lounges across your girl friends' legs. You scowl. You and Matty have argued in and out of every seminar you've ever shared. It surprised you that someone like the boy in front of you was here with him.

"He actually told me to ask that question"

"Hm?"

"Your favourite film? He said it's a good conversation starter but I'm beginning to think," he makes a note of your comically disappointed expression, "that he is very, very wrong"

He smiles at you. You can't help but smile back at him. The image of him preparing to talk you flashes in your mind. You smile harder.

"Roman Holiday", he leans over to hear you better over the drowning sound of pop, exposing his neck and the chain dangling around it. "My favourite film is Roman Holiday"

"Never heard of it--"

"YOU'VE NEVER HEARD OF ROMAN HOLIDAY?!?!" He certainly didn't need to lean in to hear that. He laughs at the inner film nerd in you coming out.

In that moment, he could see it. You and his best friend having passive-aggressive discussions during seminars. It's stupid to admit the twinge of jealousy he felt at the idea. I mean, you had only just met. Maybe it's the alcohol or Teenage Dream on the speaker, maybe he wants to see that enthusiasm and hear you talk about films forever and ever.

"Maybe we could watch it sometime."

It doesn't help that you blush easily. You can see yourself now, a vision in bright red.

"Does that line work for every girl?"

"I don't know, I haven't used it before," he smiles and rakes a hand through his hair. Fuck.

Wait, let's not get ahead of ourselves. "Who are you again?" you ask before you can glow any brighter.

"I'm Ross."

You reply with your name and extend your free hand to shake his.

The speakers go quiet over this exchange. A drunken voice exclaims "RIGHT, LET'S GO!" followed by peals of laughter and excitement.

You look at each other, hand in hand, knowing that you just started something good. Something good that you don't want to infect with even louder music, sweaty bodies and strobe lights - not now at least. If only Pres could last forever. You let go of his hand.

People flood out of the flat, but a girl friend of yours whose flat this is hangs back when she sees the pair of you not moving.

"Hey, could we stay here actually?" you tell her.

Having hosted so many film parties and Pres, she knows you're usually the first out of the door. She knows that you never do this or feel this, especially not for boys you've only met. But there's something about him and this squeezing in your heart. You don't want him to leave you.

She smiles, turning the speakers back on, the volume set to low. It's Boom Clap by Charli XCX. You wouldn't know this 'til much later, but she thinks you two make a good couple. "You don't need a key to leave and the door locks by itself, so feel free to stay."

Before she disappears out the door, Ross exclaims "Take care of Matty!!"

"No promises!!" she shouts back.

---

Saturday bleeds into Sunday. You're sitting on the floor with a boy you just met. He does History, you do Film. The Bluetooth speaker died in the middle of Colors by Halsey, but you both were too engrossed in conversation to realise it.

The October wind picked up, tossing the plastic cups across the room, but he was too busy looking at you, how the air danced and played with your hair. Neither of you could figure out how to close the window, you were both guests here after all. When he noticed you shivering, his black hoodie immediately came off. He blushed as you put it on, how the sleeves extended past your hands. It was hard for you not to hug yourself and take in his smell of petrichor and aftershave in its entirety. It was hard for him not to hug you.

By this point, you could name all his favourite teachers from secondary school and why the 1900s was his favourite century. He could list your top 10 films in order and the details about your hometown that you love. He recounts what it was like growing up in Wilmslow with Matty. You never knew Wilmslow ever existed, you never knew anyone's words could soften you to Matty.

As he speaks, you notice the distant whir of passing cars, the wind, the hum of the light bulb, and how this is all so tragically and desperately transient.

"What's wrong?" he asks as if he has known you a long time. He has made a note of how expressive you are, how whatever you're thinking or feeling is easy to detect just by looking at your face. You wouldn't know it, but he decides right then and there that he wants to recognise every micro-expression your face could make.

"I like talking to you," you admit, almost sadly.

"I like talking to you, too."

You glance out the window. "But you do know what they say about the people you meet in the first semester," they don't stay.

"Yeah, yeah, I do know, but" he delicately places his hand on your knee, "you're someone people want to keep."

Silence. There's an unspoken force about the two of you. It encourages you to submit to the endearing teenage stupidity and rash decision-making.

"You're someone I want to keep," he says finally. Whilst your eyes, tipsy and excited, have been jumping from surface to surface, his has been fixed on you the entire night.

A thump from the front door interrupts the moment followed by crashing and inelegant, drunken moaning.

"Ohmygod you guys are STILL HERE?!?!" screams that coursemate of yours, popping her head through the door. "MATTY, THEY'RE STILL HERE!"

A tiny "ᶠᵁᶜᴷ" can be heard from another room. You and Ross laugh to yourselves, not surprised by the scene unraveling before you two.

"You know I love you guys but do you mind fucking off?"

Ross is already stood up and helps you onto your feet. You could get used to this. You plant a chaste kiss on her sweaty forehead followed by "You know I love you. Use protection."

"Have fun, mate!" Ross yells down the corridor as you make your way to the door.

"ᶠᵁᶜᴷ ʸᴼᵁ"

---

You strike yourself as more tipsy than you realise as you wiggle the door handle and cry, "OHMYGOD, IT DOES LOCK ON ITS OWN!!"

And he's looking at you, smiling that same warm smile, as you get excited over a door. You're still wearing his hoodie.

You notice him staring, "what?"

"Nothing"

"You look like you want to say something?" He takes in a breath and shrugs. "If you wanna say something, just say it," you laugh.

To that, he lifts up your chin with his finger and kisses you.

As soon as he backs away, you toss your arms around his neck and inelegantly smash your face onto his. You can feel him smiling as you kiss. His arms pull you closer at the waist, hands underneath his hoodie.

"I've been waiting to do that all night," he whispers as you pull away. The streetlights and skyscrapers blink through the windows of the dimly lit corridor. Only this time in the face of the city, you don't feel alone anymore.

"Are you busy today?" he asks, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. You're still slung around his neck. It's all stupidly endearingly familiar, but also so new. You kiss through the conversation.

"No, no, not busy... do need to do my laundry though."

"Good, so do I." You silently agree to do it together.

You take his hand in yours and walk down the stairs.

"I'm someone you wanna keep, huh?"

"You're someone I wanna keep."

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kennedy-brooke · 1 month

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i promise I’m working on something guys, i just want to have more than one part done and it’s all yours. pcd is a great motivator (the title might change so don’t count on it)

#the 1975 #ross macdonald #ross macdonald fanfic #ross x reader #ross the 1975 #ross macdonald the 1975 #it’s pure fluff #very self indulgent #definitely smut in later parts

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toomuchracket · 6 months

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my whole life, waiting for you: part 1 (ross x girlband gf!reader angst/fluff)

i don't know. i just wanted to write something. it's more pining/missing someone than actual angst, and there's more to come, at some point. loosely inspired by the seminal song super trouper by abba lol. i hope you like it <3

it's sunny in glasgow today. which is weird, especially for february.

but it's beautiful, ross thinks. it's a shame that a city so made up of sandstone doesn't get to see the sun so often; the buildings seem to glow when the daylight hits them, reflecting off the glass fronts of their newer neighbours, the intricate details in the stonework clearer than he's ever seen them before.

the people on the street below seem to glow in the sunshine, too, which is saying something given that ross's hotel room looks out onto hope street, to the flood of people heading to and from glasgow central station. at half 8 on a thursday morning, you'd expect a certain level of crabbiness (or crabbitness, in scotland) from them, as they make their way to another day of work and school and uni, but everyone's a bit more cheery today. scarves have been unravelled, jackets unzipped… there's even one guy walking about in a t-shirt and shorts as if it's mid-july.

ross smiles at the sight, but it doesn't last long.

you should be here seeing it all with him.

but you're still in london, hundreds of miles away, and he won't see you until he's back there himself. it's only four days away, but it's been ten since the last time you were together, and ross has decided that a fortnight apart is simply too long. especially after the months spent continents apart at the end of last year.

still, it's not like either of you can do anything about it. he's on tour. you're in the final days of production on your band's new album. there's no resentment, at least, because you've both been in the other's shoes, but there's pining, and a loneliness that no amount of calls and texts and facetimes can fully shift.

a knock on the door briefly interrupts it, though, and a familiar deep voice follows. "ross, mate, s'me."

george. ross opens the door, and is immediately pulled into a hug - a proper one, not a hyper-masculine bro hug - before his friend steps into the room and surveys the view. "nice day."

"yeah," ross nods, moving to stand next to george. "sun's nice."

the two men stand in silence for a minute, side by side, looking out at the city below. george turns to look at ross, chewing the inside of his bottom lip. "you alright today, mate?"

ross nods. "just… well, you know how it is. missing my girl."

"yeah, exactly," george nods too, then smiles. "m'happy for you, though. a bit pissed off that you didn't tell me until last night, but mostly happy."

"wasn't even planning on telling you, mate," ross huffs out a laugh. "the night just got the better of me."

the night, beginning with a two-hour long facetime with you after dinner that only exacerbated your respective lonelinesses. ross loves his job, absolutely fucking adores it, but as the days pass he's less and less reluctant to admit that the nomadic nature of touring is beginning to wear a bit thin for him. when you answered that call, tucked up in bed wearing what was unmistakably ross's slowdive t-shirt, brew in hand and glasses on… he did find himself wishing that the next show was the final one, so he could go home to you. and yet, despite that, talking to you did perk ross up a little bit, enough to make him agree to go for some drinks with the band and the techs and try to have a nice evening.

but the loneliness soon won out again, and the alcohol took over; forty-five minutes after everyone got to what ended up being the final pub of the night, ross was outside chaining cigs and thinking about your call again. george came out for his own smoke, found his friend near tears, and that's when ross spilled the whole story to him, the whole truth about you and him and your relationship. after eighteen months, your secret was finally released, in the middle of mitchell lane, under the neon lights and the moon and a cloud of marlboro smoke, at one o'clock in the morning.

"yeah, well, i'm glad you said," george grins. "she's great. i love her."

"so do i," ross sighs. "and i really, really miss her."

his friend nods. "only four days, though, for both of us. we'll manage. trust me, ross, it'll fly in. and it'll be good. two nights of glasgow shows, yeah?"

"if we were anywhere else, i'd be so much worse."

"i believe it. now," george picks up ross's jacket from the back of a chair and holds it out to him. "shall we take advantage of the nice day and go for a coffee with the boys?"

ross shrugs. "might as well."

***

"george says it's sunny today."

you slowly crack your eyelids open and look at charli blearily. "in glasgow?"

"i know! i didn't believe it either, until he sent me a pic. here," charli, admirably and enviably well-rested and energetic, thrusts her phone towards you.

"oh, yeah. pretty," you squint closer at the screen, noting the infamous 'people make glasgow' sign framed against a backdrop of clear blue sky. squinting further, you make out adam mid-stride towards the city chambers, turning back to look at an animated (probably making a shit joke about george and george square) matty and a smiling ross. a pang of longing hits you square in the chest as you look at your boyfriend and the crinkles by his eyes, drawing a lovesick sigh from your lips.

charli smiles softly at you, putting her phone down on the pull-down table and pulling you into a hug. "three hours to go, babe."

"i know. god, i must sound so stupid, sighing like a fucking war wife or some shit."

"not at all, it's cute," your friend says. "and i always thought you and ross would be cute. didn't i tell you that?"

"i don't think you ever said 'cute', per se, but you did say if we started an onlyfans together then you'd subscribe. so, kinda the same thing, i suppose."

"and i stand by that statement," charli giggles. her face softens. "were you and him, like, together, when i said that?"

"uh huh. had been for a year."

"jesus christ," she shakes her head. "i can't even be annoyed at you for keeping it a secret, because i'm just so fucking impressed you managed to do it for so long."

you shuffle in your seat to look out the window, the view a blurry patch of trees somewhere between london euston and glasgow central. "yeah, in hindsight, we probably shouldn't have hidden it for so long. i'm worried people are going to be upset that we did, when we tell them."

"by people… d'you mean matty?"

you nod, pressing your lips together in nervousness. it's definitely worse for ross, given their long friendship, but matty and george have become almost like older brothers to you through their support of you and your band, and so the fear of the former being hurt by the upcoming revelation is very real to you too.

"oh, he'll be too excited to be sad," charli grins, then giggles maniacally. "and too busy trying to convince you and ross to have musical-prodigy kids."

you think you wouldn't be opposed to that idea, but it still seems too soon to say it out loud.

"i hope you're right, charli," you say instead, although you can't keep the tiny smile from your face at the sweetly domestic thought. "you really think he won't be angry? or adam? christ, imagine upsetting adam! i'd never forgive myself."

"well, put it this way," charli moves so she can look you in the eye, taking your hands in her own. "i was woken up at 2am by george telling me you and ross were secretly together, and that i just had to drop everything today to get the train to glasgow with you so you could surprise him, and my overwhelming emotion was not anger, but excitement. so yeah, i think the boys'll be fine."

you squeeze her hands gratefully. "you took the 2am phone call better than i did," you snort. "i could've throttled your boyfriend for waking me up, babe. especially after the week i've had."

charli laughs. "just think, though - in a few hours, you'll have ross to kiss it better."

and what a nice thought that is. you're aware of your body sinking further into the plush train seat, but every other sense zones out the present completely in favour of remembering past kisses with your boyfriend; it isn't until charli actually pinches your bare forearm that you snap out of your romantic little daydream about ross's lips and tongue and hands.

she laughs when you frown at her, wriggling in her seat into what you've come to learn is her gossip pose. "your face just lit up there - i take it ross isn't lacking in kissing ability?"

you smirk. "not in the slightest."

"i love that for you. and what about ability," charli's volume drops as her brows lift. "... elsewhere?"

the smirk grows, and you gleefully swing your legs as much as you can without instigating an argument with the person sitting in front of you. "no comment."

"oh, you bitch," your friend lightly slaps your arm. "at least tell me if you're satisfied or not, please!"

your mind thinks back to the last night you saw your boyfriend, and to the beard burn still lingering on your inner thighs. "'satisfied' is an understatement."

"obsessed with that. obsessed with the two of you! tonight's going to go well. i can feel it."

deep down, you know charli's right. it's your friends you're telling about you and ross tonight. they love you. they want you to be happy.

you want that too. you want to be able to be the properly proud adoring girlfriend at the side of the stage tonight, cheering on ross and shouting "i love you"s and doing your utmost to get him to do that crinkly-eyed smile that makes your heart glow. all you have to do is be honest with your friends.

ross's eyes cross your mind again, for the millionth time today. yeah, tonight will go well - you'll make sure of it. for him.

#mads muses #mads does writing #girlband gf #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald fanfic #ross macdonald fluff #ross macdonald x reader #ross x reader #ross macdonald angst

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hypersonic04 · 8 months

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Gold Rush

hello everyone! I thought that as a last hurrah to the summertime, I'd write something inspired by it. this was kindly suggested by @mybrokenveins3000, and i am so obsessed with the whole concept. i hope you all enjoy, let me know what you think! love u!

word count: 1,429

Your skin begs to soak up every last ray of late-August sunshine. The flashing lights and movie stars feel far away now, a life that belongs to someone else, someone who cares about things that, in this life, have no value. He’s golden, flickering, light pouring from him as you sit beside him in the convertible. The wind tickles at your skin, your eyes glued to him sat beside you. Linen shirt, sunglasses, hair sea-salt-ruffled. His skin has been kissed by the sun since you arrived here all but two weeks ago. You tip your head back, try to commit every last cobblestone and blade of grass to memory. The Italian summer has owned your heart for a while, but the silver R laid flat to your chest is forever, sacred, for eternity.

His fingertips are hot on your sticky skin, the breeze welcome as he carefully turns the wheel. Physically, his eyes are fixed forward, but they’re glassy, dreamy, starry. He looks like something you’d have drawn when you were 15, a figment of your imagination. You wonder how many other people would’ve drawn the same thing - what must it be like to grow up that beautiful? The jealousy that dares to make itself know disappears in an instant, his chocolate gaze melting into yours.

“Are you happy?" He asks you. You nod, wordlessly, because words could never be enough.

"Are you?"

"Very." His gaze returns to the road, swallowing heavily, the sweetest of smiles on his face.

The car takes a left, rumbling up the hill that leads us to our treasure trove, our castle. White stone walls, shutter blinds, a peach tree curving over the balcony. It's silent as the engine shuts off, except for the distant sound of a bird call. Your skirt is soft on your legs as you jog up the stone steps, Ross following closely behind, as ever. His hands on your waist, lips on the shell of your ear, light breaths sending you dizzy,

"Ross," you mumble through giggles, unable to put the keys in the lock for his touches. His presence in a room could do that to you, though, red often flushing to your face at the sight of him.

"What, can I not kiss my fiance?" He smiles against your cheek, emphasis on the latter.

Your engagement remains a secret from the world, from prying eyes, from anyone, really. He'd popped the question three days ago, the silver band on your finger new and novel, the sight of it startling, almost.

You turn around in his hold, back pressed to the wood of the door, head tilted upwards to meet his affirmed smirk, a smugness to it as he gazes down at you.

"Fiance." You breathe out, chest sinking as you sigh. He nods, inching closer and closer to your pink lips until they're pressed together. Your hands hold his face, stubble gravelly under your hot touch, your breath stolen by his kiss. He nods at you with drowsy eyes as he pulls away, smiling. The air is balmy, the dusky sky almost a shade of rust now.

He slips the key out of your fingertips, unlocking the door as you rest against it. Walking you backwards into the house, his hands are on your hips and he's laughing at something you've said, something cocky, the kind of thing that fascinated him in the bar that one night. A loud laugh, the kind that gets stuck in the air, tangled around your ear, lingering in the pits of your stomach on the nights you lay awake in the dark. You want it to sit there forever.

He lets you leave him to get changed, begrudgingly. You can hear him opening and closing cupboard doors as you tie your hair up, slipping out of the linen skirt you'd been wearing. Your skin is tan as you look at yourself in the mirror, bra and shorts the only suitable attire for the sweltering evening heat. The bedroom windows are wide open, and you find yourself gazing out of them for a second. You can see the ripple of lights on water, hear distant conversation from a restaurant you'd sat in a few days ago, the greenery hanging over the window close enough for you to touch. It's still, a stark contrast to your everyday life. You wonder what would happen if you didn't go back.

The sound of the balcony doors opening steals you from your daydream. Padding across the wooden floor, back into the living room, you spot the bottle of red wine he's placed on the table outside, ashtray and deck of cards next to the glasses. A smile spreads across your face, spotting him through the arch of the kitchen, shirt off as he places slices of watermelon on a plate.

He glances at you, then glances at you again as you walk out onto the balcony. You lean against it with a glass of wine in hand, surprised when his fingers ghost up your spine. They're soft, warm, home.

"Thank you for pouring me a glass." You smile, maintaining his eye contact over the rim of the glass.

"You're very welcome, my love." He kisses your temple before taking a seat at the table, leaning back and lighting a cigarette. He takes a drag of it, and you watch as his cheeks hollow. It's inviting, bewitching almost, watching his eyes graze across the view from your balcony, hair falling perfectly, lungs inhaling.

You take your seat across from him, shuffling the cards. He watches as you do it, flicking some ash into the ashtray between you both. You deal them out as he tells you about how George had asked how the holiday was going, how long you were staying, nodding along as he talks.

The wine flows too easily, your cheeks red and glowing as you stare at him dreamily. There's a purity to it, an innocence, your eyes glazed over like a teenager with a crush.

"You're staring." He chuckles, eyebrows raised.

"What, can I not stare at my fiance?" You giggle as you mirror his earlier words, watching his face contort as he laughs. The air is bursting with love, the seams of your bubble threatening to burst as your laughter bounces around, your belly warm and mind fuzzy. "Let me have a drag." You cock your head to his cigarette and hold our your hand.

"You're not smoking a cigarette, y/n." he shakes his head with a laugh. "When have you ever smoked?"

"When I've had four glasses of Bordeaux." you giggle. The sound that escapes your lips sends him dizzy, tilting his head a little so he can see every inch of your face, warmed up by the glow of the living room light falling through the doorway. He wants to bottle this noise, this moment, this feeling.

He puts it out before you can attempt to steal it, standing up to look over the balcony. His back is broad, muscles evident as he rests his forearms on the railings, dark eyes contemplating the scenery around him. It's dark now, little caverns of light hidden in the landscape, evidence of life. Your arms snaking around his waist don't take him by surprise, a kiss pressed to the centre of his back as you rest your head against it. His skin is hot, smooth under your touch, still glazed with sunscreen and aloe moisturiser. Memories of you in fits of laughter the day before, him wincing as you lathered the cold gel onto his back, running around the house like children - you're grateful they exist, you hope they stay as vibrant as they are right now.

You can hear the strum of a guitar from a bar lower down the cliff, faint and gentle in your ears, but enough to know it's something familiar. Humming along to it, he turns around and takes your hands in his, swaying ever-so-gently. He's twinkling, sparkling under your touch, cheeks tinted pink and eyes sleepy. You're drunk on red wine, dancing with your fiance on a balcony in Italy - if only you could freeze time.

His hands move to your waist, smooth and soft under his calloused fingertips, lips pressed to yours, tongues intertwining like ivy, like the way you think your souls might be. He walks you backwards, back through the balcony doors, hitting the wall of the hallway before you can catch your breath. He pulls away, eyes so close to yours, and if you could jump into them, you would.

#ross macdonald #the 1975 #1975 band #fanfic #matty healy #adam hann #george daniel #matty the 1975 #asks #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald fanfic

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3terna15unshin3 · 6 months

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WAIT HELP i need help finding a fic again LOL🚨🚨🚨 it’s a ross unplanned pregnancy one???? where ross and reader are exes and were in like a long term relationship but then she gets pregnant and moves back into their house ???

there was only like 3 parts or something and i thought i was mutuals with the writer but i’ve searched everywhere and cannot find it 😭😭😭😭😭

please does anyone know what i’m talking about😀

#Help #ross macdonald #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald fanfic #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfiction

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tillthelandslide · 8 months

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Same For You: (4) No Need to Explain

Series Warnings: slow burn romance, eventual smut, age gap, complicated relationship (low-key unhealthy dynamics), eventual love...

A/n: okay.... Here's part 4, honestly I am so so excited for you guys to see what it's in store for this series, every chapter I am more and more proud of and I am really enjoying working on this, it's actually making me so happy and I love this series (never thought I'd say that about my own work) I know it's a bit slow to get going but please bare with me.... It will be worth it truth me! Love you lots - Lou 🫶🏼

IM SORRY I JUST COULDN'T WAIT TO POST IT...

Taglist: @scooby-doodoo @thereisaplaceintheheart @theoriginalwhatsername (if you want to be added please just drop me a message 🫶🏼)

Series Masterlist

(3) The Deal

Matty's house was very... Plain? She was unsure whether that was the appropriate word to describe it, she liked it, it felt arty and edgy, but she preferred a space that felt like home. Of course there were things scattered around his house that screamed "Matty". Things that added a special touch to his space, but she felt a little lonely looking around the hallway, following the man into his kitchen.

"Nice place" she comments, not entirely telling the truth. His eyes find her face and he scans it, noting the way she smiled but how it didn't quite reach her eyes, a tell tale sign of her lying.

"Really? Doesn't really seem liked your kind of thing" he asks and she pulls a funny face at him, not able to lie. He only chuckles at her as he clicks the kettle on.

"Bit too neat for my liking..." She says and he laughs again. His house was visually pleasing, she'd be silly to deny that, but it didn't feel lived in. She likes the feeling she got when she went back to her mother's house, the warm feeling in her stomach, her heart feeling like it was back home again. She didn't get that from Matty's place and looking around the room, she didn't see how he could feel that way either.

"You can call me boring love, it's fine....I won't take offense" she shakes her head, and again he's laughing. She gets that feeling in her stomach again, it dips and then soars and she thought it was only one reserved for Ross, but now, sitting across from Matty, she's learning that maybe that wasn't the case.

"No... No not boring, just wasn't what I expected is all. I like it, it's very aesthetic. Just not as homey as I personally like..." She pauses as she looks around the room, even his kitchen was clean cut and raw, there weren't many decorations and if she didn't know him she'd think he'd just moved in.

"Does it not get lonely? I can imagine it would" she says and if she was asked, she'd blame it on the alcohol she'd consumed. She takes in the furrow of Mattys eyebrows and the way he runs a hand along his chin as he looks at her. Matty quite liked the way she was unwaveringly honest with him, she didn't hold herself back despite people typically doing so when they hadn't known each other all that long. Matty was like that too... Another similarity that drew them together.

"Sorry....I'm intruding" she says just as the kettle clicks, Matty turns away from her, attending to the tea.

"How'd you take it love?" He asks, ignoring the desire to take the piss out of his own words, make an innuendo just to ease some of the tension. But he then thinks it's better to just welcome it, for it was with her, if it was her asking questions that made him slightly uncomfortable, he knew he wouldn't mind all that much.

"Milky please... Two sugars" she says and he makes it how she likes, turning back to her and placing the tea in front of her.

"We can sit in my living room if you'd like? Slightly more 'homey" then the rest of the house" he jests and she raises a hand over her heart, feigning hurt.

"You're never going to let me live that down are you?" She says and she begins following him to the other room.

"I mean, I invited you into my home and so far all you've done is take the piss" he jokes, he sits down, quite close to her considering the sofa was large enough for three. He sees her shiver and he sighs.

"hold this a second" he asks, despite the fact he has a coffee table. She does as he says and their fingers graze before he disappears, running upstairs. Whilst he's gone she takes in the two mugs she's holding and the sight brings a genuine smile to her lips.

His is a white mug with red writing that reads "world's best dad", whilst he's given her another white mug that reads "some people just need a high five" in big letters with smaller letters underneath that read "in the face with a chair" she chuckles out loud and she can hear Matty hum from upstairs.

She then hears him run back down the stairs, before he's standing before her again, a large hoodie resting in his arms.

"Here" he says, handing it to her.

"thanks" she says, handing him both cups as she tugs the jumper over her head. It seems like cigarettes and him and the edges are frayed but the fabric underneath is soft and feels warm against her skin. The fabric was creased, it had been worn recently, he had worn it and again that warm fuzzy feeling appears in her stomach. She tries to push it away as she peers across at him, taking in the small smile that rests against his mouth, she watches his eyes rake down her form and her mouth goes dry. She shouldn't be feeling like this, it was wrong.

"cute' he comments as he gives her the mug back, she simply smiles at him. He holds his cup in one hand, resting his arm around the back of the sofa, hand resting next to her head as they look at each other.

"Nice mugs" she laughs again and his eyes flick between the mugs, bringing the hand that's next to her up to his face when he realises what he's done.

"I'm so sorry" there's no real reason to apologise so she brings her hand to his and takes it away from her face and squeezes it, shaking her head at him.

"It's fine... I like them - very you" he raises his eyebrows at that and she laughs again, he laughs alone with her after a beat. Eventually when their laughter dies down, his eyes flick to her their intertwined hand and he feels himself blush. His mind flicks to Ross, and he immediately pulls his hand away (although gently as to not offend her) and he places it back next to her head.

"To answer your question earlier... Yes, it gets lonely" he says and she smiles sadly at him.

"Bet you're hardly here though right? Always on the road?" She asks and he nods.

"Yeah... Don't spend that much time here... Sometimes makes it worse to be honest" he says and she frowns at him.

"How so?"

"When we're on tour, I got my boys y'know. The truth is, they're home to me... So when I'm here and they're not... It's just lonely" he says and she nods, understanding. She leans her head against his hand, and he smiles at her as she does. Her cheek is warm against the skin there and he feels electricity spark against his hand.

He wanted nothing more than to lean forward and grasp her face in his hold, never letting her go... But he couldn't... Not when it was clear Ross was also interested. He debates whether to bring up the bassist and despite knowing he shouldn't, he can't help it.

"Looked awfully cosy with Ross tonight... Wearing his jacket and everything" Matty comments. She knew something was up earlier, and she feels conflicted that he seems to be bothered by it. She felt more than confused about her feelings, it was obvious she cared for Matty too much already, he made her smile and laugh, and she had that warm fuzzy feeling in her stomach when she spoke to him.

But Ross excited her, she wanted to know everything there was to know about him, she also felt at home with the man. He could smile and her heart would soar and her hairs would stand on end. She was fucked.

"You don't like that" she says, it wasn't a question, it was a statement and Matty doesn't know how to respond.

"I wouldn't say that no... I dunno y/n. I feel sort of protective over you. Not that Ross would do anything bad. Quite the opposite. I dunno. It's complicated"

Complicated didn't even begin to describe it. She had never felt this way before, she couldn't pinpoint what she felt for the both of them, but she also felt horrible because the truth was she hardly knew either of them yet, not truly, not for long enough.

"Nothing will happen if you don't want it to" she says and she doesn't really know why she does, it just slips out. She didn't know how to feel and clearly her brain wasn't functioning properly. She knew ideally she shouldn't be thinking about either of them this way, she was working with them now. It was unprofessional.

"Do you want something to happen?" He asks and he watches as she removes her face from against his hand, taking a sip of her tea as she shrugs.

"I hardly know either of you Matty... And I'm about to be working with you both. So it's not a good idea" she says and he nods slowly, eyes wandering over her facial features, fingertips plucking his lips, rolling the bottom one between his thumb and finger. As he looks at her in can't help but find a flaw in her words, they did know each other, maybe they hadn't known each other for very long but he already knew things about her that made him care for her deeply, that made him yearn for her.

"Okay... But ignore that for a second. What do you feel?" He asks and she just laughs, because she couldn't give him an answer. She didn't know. Or she was in denial.

"I don't know" she says honestly. The only way she could describe it, was that she felt a pull towards the both of them, she was unsure what that meant, or whether that meant she liked one or the other, but she knew when she was with Matty, she didn't feel so alone, he was with someone who was similar to her, who understood the dark parts of her soul.

But when she was with Ross, she felt like she was the person she wanted to be, someone desired, someone wanted. Ross represented a different part of herself, someone free, someone happy, someone who finally felt at home and she liked who she was and how she felt when she was around him.

"Hmm" he doesn't press any further and instead they both finish their tea and she explains that she should head home soon. She retrieves her phone from Matty's coat pocket, the both of them standing at his door as they wait for the Uber to arrive. She peers at the time, 1:02 it reads and she frowns slightly, seeing a text from Ross. She's still wearing his hoodie and she doesn't plan on taking it off and he smiles at that.

"Thank you for the tea" she says and somehow his hand weaves its way into hers, most of it is hidden under the fabric but his hand slips beneath it, grasping the warm but small hand in his.

"You're welcome" he says, pulling her towards him to hug her tightly. His arms wrap around her waist, and he pulls her up slightly, forcing her on her tip toes. Her arms weave their way across his shoulders, tucking her head to the side against his chest as his tuck into her neck.

She feels his breath caressing her skin and feels the symphony of his heart, drumming against her ear. It was intimate, it was nice. He sighs deeply and she feels his lips contort into a smile against her neck, they weren't pressed against the skin but they grazed it. Goosebumps. She had goosebumps.

"Let me know when you're home okay?" She nods into his embrace "and maybe... If you figure out how you're feeling... Give me a text" he says and his words surprise her, she doesn't know what they mean, or what he wants. She pulls away from the man, looking up into his eyes and nodding. Their hands don't let go of each other until their fingertips are unable to touch anymore and finally they drop.

She then slips into the Uber and feels even more confused then she initially did, especially when she sees two more texts from Ross.

"Love? Xx" One reads.

"I'm hoping you've just fallen asleep... Won't take offense this time 😋xx" the next reads.

"I'm so so sorry! I wasn't ignoring you I swear.. Matty left his keys in his coat and I dropped them off. On my way home now though. I promise I'm safe xx" she replies back, seeing three dots appear before they disappear again.

She frowns at that, did she upset him?

❀•°❀°•❀•°❀°•❀•°❀°•❀•°❀°•❀ •°❀°•❀•°❀°•❀

She meets with the band the next day, explaining the plans in further detail to them. They all (apart from Jay) seem to be okay with the idea, excited to be working the band.

"Alright Jay stop being a dick, you could've easily come to the meeting with y/n and had your say but you didn't... So now majority rules and you're going to have to deal with it" Abbie argues, standing up for her friend which ultimately y/n is thankful for.

Jay sighs and pouts whilst the rest ask some more questions, all of which she answers happily.

"So Matty is really keen to have all of us in the studio together, give us a chance to get to know everyone... We can sit down and show them what we've got if we want... Or start from scratch" y/n explains, they all nod, smiling widely.

"I'm so fucking hyped man" Clara says making everyone laugh "this is going to be epic" she says and y/n cant help but smile widely as she speaks.

Eventually everyone has to leave for their day jobs, but y/n says at the coffee shop, receiving a text from Ross.

"Want to grab that coffee we spoke about? Xx" she's thankful that he's not annoyed or upset enough to completely ignore her.

"Absolutely! I'm actually at a place now, was just catching up with the band but they've gone to work" she says, texting him the address after. He arrives maybe 10 minutes later and she can't help but smile widely when he walks through the door. He wears a black hoodie that is big but not so big it drowns him, she can still make out his good figure, and the way his chest still sits flush against the fabric. A pair of old blue jeans rest against his legs and her eyes can't help but find his thighs, despite her brain telling her not to.

He walks over to the counter, quickly ordering himself a drink before he makes his way over to her. Placing his drink down so he could properly say hello.

She stands up to greet him, the pair meeting in a tight hug. She hears him sigh against her and she swear she can sense how wide he's smiling. And he's there again, invading her senses, completly taking them over, commanding them.

"Hi" he says as they pull away from each other.

"hi" she smiles as she sits down, leaning on the palm of her hand as she looks across at him. He begs himself to get a grip, heart increasing tenfold as he looks at her, she looked so adorable sitting there like that, the jumper she's wearing, hooked up over her hands to keep her warm.

"So... You said the others went to work? What are you still doing here then?" He asks and she smiles.

"Well... Lucky for me music is my day job" she says and he raises his eyebrows up at her.

"Yeah I write songs for other artists, I've got a small studio in the garage of our house" she says, referring to the band who all live together. "I make stuff for other people as and when the offers there"

"Wow, that's cool... Show me what you're working on at the moment?" He asks and she slides the open note book towards him, their fingertips graze as she hands it to him and they hold eye contact for far too long before his eyes slowly wander down to the paper, reading the words on the page.

"This one is actually for us... Maybe" she says, referencing the band again. She forces the words out despite the way her breath is failing her. Did he feel it too? The way it felt like electricity buzzed between them when they made contact? The way it felt like time slowed as they looked into each other's eyes? The way it felt so god damn difficult to break the eye contact that just felt right?

Her handwriting is small, neat and delicate and he smiles as he reads over the words. His mind flicks to the idea of seeing her write his name, a random thought, a slightly obscure desire but one the man suddenly feels himself in dire need of.

"Not my best work..." She says and he flicks his eyes to meet hers, shaking his head.

"What?" She asks, leaning back against her chair, arms crossed. She looks so cute like that, he thinks, all stubborn and pouty, almost mad that he wasn't just saying what he was thinking. Instead he was shaking his head, sending unclear and blurry messages her way. She wants nothing more than to crawl inside his mind and be able to see every thought, touch every desire and set alight all his doubts.

He feels himself wanting to lean forward, to do something to stop that look, to make her smile at him, for him. A boop of her nose that would make it crinkle in a way that would somehow make her look even cuter. Maybe he could graze his nose against hers in an Eskimo kiss, feeling the way her breath hit his lips, hearing the way she'd giggle that giggle that he was already obsessed with. Maybe he could lean forward until his lips were nearly touching hers and just maybe when the tension became too much she'd give in, drop that look from her face and just have to kiss him, because she wouldn't be able to handle the distance apart anymore.

But he couldn't do that, he couldn't do any of it.

"Can't believe you can't see how amazing you are" he says, beginning to read part of what she had written out loud. She tries not to cringe at him speaking her own words.

"You can feel it in your soul Close your eyes and lose control Set it free and let it go Now I'm gonna let you know You'll never stop these changing roads This is the way our story goes"

"That's amazing love" he says and she blushes deeply.

"It's okay... You should really hear the demo to get the full experience" she says and he smiles.

"Tell me about it" he says, leaning forward, clinging on to her every word. She goes on to explain how she did an arrangement of strings and different sounding guitars, the song building up as you listen, and Ross can't get enough, asking question after question, just wanting a peek into her brain.

"Wow... Sounds impressive" he says.

"Thanks" she tilts her head down slightly to shield her face from him, which was tinted red at the cheeks. Her hair falls in front of her face and this time he can't resist leaning forward and hooking it behind her ear.

"You look very pretty today" he comments making her blush even more.

"Thanks..." She seems shy now and Ross finds himself liking the change in her behaviour, proud that he drew that from her. Her phone buzzes on the table and his eyes flick down to it at the same time hers do, reading "Bestie", Ross's eyebrows furrow at it, wondering again if his speculations were right.

"Sorry... It's just Matty" she says, placing her phone back down without replying. Ross doesn't know how to feel about the fact he was named that in her phone, or how to feel that he was texting her. But he quite likes how she doesn't reply, giving him her attention. He remembers her text last night and feels guilty he invited it. But the truth is he didn't know how to reply without making it obvious he was jealous.

"Just recommended me a song to listen to" she explains. Ross can't explain how the fact she was open with him, the fact that she told him exactly what the text was about, instead of leaving him guessing... He couldn't explain why he felt happy, but he did. His mind still flicks back to last night though.

"So... You went to his last night?" He asks, taking a sip from his coffee cup, attempting not to sound jealous or bitter.

"Yeah... The idiot left his keys in the coat. I just had a cup of tea and then went home" that piece of information appeases Ross and he pushes the unwanted and perhaps unneeded jealousy aside.

"He does make a mean brew" his tone has changed now and y/n sighs, feeling a pressure removed from her shoulders. Ross smiles at her and she smiles back.

"You know nothing's happening with Matty right?" She doesn't quite know why she asks it. But she felt like she had to, it was obvious something was happening between her and the bassist (whether it should be or not) and she didn't want him thinking something that wasn't true.

"oh" he says simply, he was then the one that was blushing, embarrassed that it was that obvious he had a problem with it.

"It's hard to explain but... Matty and I are really similar... I see myself in him a lot. And I guess that just draws us together a little bit y'know?" She asks and he nods.

"You don't have to explain yourself y/n, it's fine" but he smiles and secretly likes that she explains, that she tells him the truth. It saves him stressing about what was going on with her and Matty (although he still does, or perhaps just a little less than he usually would). And he supposes it makes her intentions a little clearer, less foggy.

"I know... But I want to" she says and he smiles wider now, reaching for her hand, deciding to cast any apprehension aside and just do what he wanted, which right now, was holding her hand.

The pair begin to talk about everything, finally getting to know each other the way they wanted. And again she feels like she's known him for years. She's surprised to find out how funny he was and how forward he could be, how flirty he was when he wanted. She wasn't surprised to find out that he was kind, unbelievably so and maybe too much for his own good, it was obvious how deeply he cared for others.

She found herself wanting, no, needing, to spend more time with him and the idea that they'd be working with each other made her feel undeniably happy.

When they eventually have to go their separate ways, the hug lasts a little bit too long to be considered friendly, and the way his hands drop to hold hers, not letting them go until someone has to literally squeeze past the pair, has her heart beating fast (which only returns to normal when she's far far away from him).

Ross made the blood in her veins redundant, it wasn't carrying oxygen to her body to keep it alive for the oxygen she needed to breathe was replaced by him when they were together. It wasn't air that she needed to survive, it was him. Ross caused her heart to play it's own symphony, one in which was vibrant and beautiful and made her question how she lived without him up until now.

She was well and truly obsessed, she didn't know whether this was right or wrong, whether she was delusional or of sound mind, whether this was good or bad. But one thing was for certain, whatever this was, there was no stopping it now, no matter how hard she tried to. Although neither of them knew that yet...

(5) Changing Roads

149 notes · View notes

alovesreading · 9 months

Text

Quarter Past Midnight

Summary: Thanks to your best mate, you’ve found yourself welcoming the New Year at a party one of her bosses is throwing at her new house. Since you stepped foot in the place, your only plan has been to spend the night dancing and drinking with your friends. But it all changes when you find a certain bassist looking at you from across the room. And as the night progresses, and a few kisses are shared, you seem to agree on the fact that you’re leaving the party together.

Word Count: 19.4k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, lots of cursing, suggestive dialogue and smut.

A/N: Hello!!! I'm so excited to finally be posting this one shot since the idea for it was born back when we were writing Chicken Shop Date chapter 6! You know, when Ross disappeared most of the night to socialise... So this is basically the spin off of that part of the story. I'm sorry it took me so long but, then again, it had always been the plan to post it today because it's the one and only @imagine-that-100s birthday and I thought a filthy Ross one shot was the perfect gift for Mrs. MacDonald herself. I hope you all enjoy it loads and remember: keep both hands on the phone!!

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You really fucking love the holidays. It’s probably your favorite time of the year and every gathering that is thrown during this time makes you the happiest.

It’s so much fun spending Christmas and boxing day with your family, but it’s even better to spend New Year’s Eve with your friends.

When you were a teenager, you had adopted the tradition of welcoming the new year in company of your mates and that had stayed with you despite your friendships coming and going as time went by.

Every New Year party was a different crowd and you love thinking about the differences between them, from who was attending to the theme—if there was one.

You would’ve attended your co-worker’s party this year if it wasn’t for the fact that you had gone to it the previous year and it had been horribly boring so you had opted to accept the invitation to a party that one of your best mates from university sent your way.

Cecilia worked for a creative agency that designed many artists' stages for their tours and she even went on to help the promotional aspect of said tours, so through her you had met many people that had left you quite starstruck. That’s why when you found out this was going to be a party thrown by Charli XCX, one of the artists that she works with, you accepted in a heartbeat.

And now here you are, sipping on a vodka cranberry soda and swaying your hips softly to the beat of the music playing through the speakers as you listen to one of Cecilia’s co-worker’s stories.

You’ve been keeping to your mates ever since you arrived at the big house a few hours ago and now that it’s a little over an hour until midnight, you find yourself a bit tipsy from all of the drinks you’ve been nursing the whole time.

You feel bad for tuning out whatever story is being told and choosing to people watch over the girl’s shoulder, nodding absentmindedly as if you’re listening but your eyes are swimming around the place and looking for something interesting to latch onto so at least you have some entertainment as you waste your time waiting for midnight.

What you aren’t expecting is to see someone already looking at you, and you raise an eyebrow with a smirk on your face when he doesn’t let the fact that you’ve caught him staring steer his gaze away from you.

Instead, the bearded man looks you up and down slowly, tongue swiping across his bottom lip teasingly as he takes you in and you would be lying if you said his shameless behavior didn’t make your stomach flutter with a hint of want.

It shows on your face just how much you’re enjoying the attention and it makes him more smug when he sees you smirking at him after he’s drank in your appearance. You’re wearing a tight black dress that falls down to your ankles but there’s a slit on the side that lets the skin of your left leg show smoothly up to your mid-thigh; the velvet material hugs your body beautifully, accentuating every curve of yours and the square scoop neck of it held by two thick straps on your shoulders allows for your tits to be perfectly hugged and showcased.

All he’s thinking about at the moment is how fucking gorgeous you are and he can’t peel his eyes off you.

“Hi.” You mouth at him, the slightest bit shyly and it’s pathetic how easily he gets your smile to grow on your face when he reciprocates with the same mouthed word and a bright grin.

You roll your eyes at yourself mentally when you feel the heat coming up to your face and just because you can’t keep up with the eye contact, you turn back to your friends and tune back into their conversation. Thankfully, they had been too engrossed in it to notice your lack of attention.

Jumping back into the conversation, you’re aware of every minute that passes by and so when you realize it’s been at least ten, you turn back to where the tall man had been and smile when he catches your eyes on him after a mere few seconds. He looks incredibly handsome in the black on black outfit he has on: black button up with its long sleeves rolled up just below his elbows and it’s tucked into black trousers that fit him perfectly.

It’s a game of who can keep up with the eye contact the longest from then on, and maybe there’s an underlying message to every look which is probably you both daring each other to go up to the other first. You’re also trying to think about where you find him so familiar from but your brain is a mush at the moment so you can’t really come to a conclusion fast.

Stolen glances and cheeky smiles is all you share for the next fifteen minutes, and you sigh to yourself when you find your glass empty and he’s still not made his way over to you.

Softly, you excuse yourself from the conversation and make your way to the kitchen where you know the drinks are and when you get there, you smile at the people around and silently get yourself a refill.

You’re about to pick up your glass when a deep voice startles you but you’re quite pleased to see the man you’ve spent a while looking at when you turn around. He’s standing right in front of you and since the kitchen is a bit crowded, it would take for him to lean into the marble of the kitchen counter to have you trapped in between it and his tall frame.

He smiles down at you with a hint of curiosity in his eyes and starts his chat with you by asking, “What are you drinking tonight?”

“Vodka cranberry soda.” You reply factually, your lipstick smudge showing prominently against the rim of the glass after the shy sip you take of your drink.

“You’ve got a sweet tooth.” He scowls like he disapproves and it makes you roll your eyes in amusement.

“Do I? What are you having then? A beer?” Your tone is sassy and it sparks up something inside him.

He purses his lips briefly, like he’s trying not to laugh and eventually says, “Whiskey.”

You’re just trying to wind him up a bit when you say, “Can’t say I’m a fan, prefer rum.” accompanied by a clearly forced smile.

“Course you do.” His eyebrows raise and he puts on an unimpressed face but inside he’s just thinking, I like her.

Your scoff is loud enough for only him to hear, “Okay stop trying to make assumptions, you know nothing about me.”

He gives you a good surprise when he straightens as you say that and swiftly answers, “Which is exactly the problem.” You pretend that has just not made your knees go a bit weak and accept the handshake he offers you as he introduces himself, “I’m Ross, you are?”

“Y/N, nice to meet you Ross.” His grip on your hand is delicate but you know he’s holding back, though the brief feeling of the roughness on his fingers makes your mind go places it shouldn’t.

“Lovely name. Y/N. I like it.” It makes you laugh how he nods his head in approval, and at the sound of your giggles he smiles at you.

He’s definitely a sight and you just can’t waste the opportunity to shamelessly flirt so you chat back with a suggestive, “Rolls off the tongue quite easily doesn’t it.”

Which he gets straight away because a smirk breaks on his face and he quite explicitly quips back with, “Sure it does in more ways than one.”

“Oh we’re going there?” You try to act innocent as if you weren’t trying to go to that place with your words.

But Ross is quick to act just the same with an airy and faux confused, “Where?”

“Don’t play dumb now.” You take a sip of your drink with your eyes sternly on him like you’re warning him not to.

“M’not, love.” Feigning honesty he places his free hand on his chest but leans in to whisper in your ear, “But if there’s somewhere you want us to go then let me know.”

When Ross leans back, he gives you a subtle wink and suddenly you feel a bit out of control because of everything that you’re feeling inside. Especially how his words, which sounded like a dirty little secret when he dropped his voice an octave, went directly down between your legs.

“You northerners are so cheeky, aren’t you?” You had caught the accent from the very first second he spoke to you and you cannot say it didn’t fall on your ears like warm honey. It was thick and sultry, you kinda wanted him to whisper in your ear again because it felt way too nice.

It seems that it filled him with pride that you had caught onto that fact but now he was curious, “And where are you from?”

“West London.”

“Makes sense then.” He snorted out in laughter and it had your jaw falling in amusement.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You have to force yourself not to laugh because you know exactly what it meant, you’re well aware of your posh accent and you’re completely used to people taking the piss out of you for it.

But Ross shakes his head as he giggles, “Nothing, I’m just fucking with you.”

His answer gives you the perfect opportunity to turn it flirty and you like the way his eyes go dark when you say, “Yeah you wish you were, you div.”

He smirks hearing you use the insult lightheartedly but loving how you keep flirting with him, so he lays it on thick, puffing his chest out as he agrees with your words, “Maybe I do.”

You steer the conversation away from the topic then, unsure if you’d be able to function if he keeps saying things like that to you, and you ask him how he’s managed to end up at this party. You blush like an idiot when he tells you it’s his best mate’s house you’re in and that’s when it clicks that he’s in the band that George is in.

He asks how you’ve ended up there but before you could properly tell him about your best friend working for Charli XCX, he asks if you want to go outside so you can properly talk without all the noise.

Soon enough, you manage to weave your way through the crowd, with his hand placed on your lower back which makes your skin feel like it’s being lit up under his touch. And when you finally get outside, he offers you a cigarette which you turn down.

You’re not really a smoker but god does he look good as he takes the first drag of the cigarette while waiting on you to tell him the story of how you’ve ended up in this party.

Ross listens intently as you tell him how Cecilia and you met in fresher’s week in uni and ever since then you’ve been inseparable. He laughs when you tell him you work at a law firm as a paralegal and just as anyone would expect, the holiday parties your co-workers would throw were dire and you had learned that the hard way the previous year.

He admits he thinks he’s heard of your best friend through Charli and he hints at having seen her at Leeds fest earlier that year. You confirm that she was indeed there for Charli’s set in Leeds and you manage to get him laughing again when you refer to the band he’s in as the one where the lead singer eats the raw meat and gets himself off on stage.

“Yeah, that’s us in a nutshell.” He laughs a bit more, and you cackle loudly before clarifying that you actually did know them.

“I’m joking. Though, that is all I really know about yous lately. But yes, I’ve heard your music before. Your first album remains my favorite.” You’re being entirely honest about it now and it elicits a sweet smile from him before he takes another drag of his cigarette.

“Was it Robbers?” He asks with a smirk, as if he’s clearly reading you.

But you shake your head, “It was actually The City. Heard it once and I was sold.”

Ross hums at her answer, it settles in him the fact that he likes you and without really knowing, his eyes fall on your lips as he continues to silently smoke. Your stomach flips at the clear cue, and you have to let your eyes wander somewhere else before you can continue with the conversation.

The tension is growing heavy over you so in an attempt to lighten up the mood a bit just for your own sake, you joke, “That Matty guy really likes kissing people doesn’t he?”

“He does.” Ross apprehensively replies, taking one last drag of his cigarette before throwing it on the ground and stomping on it.

You bite your bottom lip as you watch him and hesitantly steer the conversation into a territory you’re intrigued about, “He kissed you didn’t he? I think I saw that the other day.”

“Yeah, he did.” The bassist has no idea where this is going, but he’s taken over by the feeling that this will be one of those times someone goes to him to get to Matty.

And when you cheekily say, “Quite jealous of that actually.” a heavy weight comes to rest on his shoulders.

“Sorry to say he’s got a date tonight.” He says rather dryly, and you notice instantly the way his behavior shifts. He avoids looking at you, his attention suddenly taken by the tumultuous party inside, taking his glass up to his lips to down the last of his whiskey like he was in a hurry.

You find it rather funny, but also you’d hate to miss a chance with this gorgeous man thanks to a misunderstood comment so you clear up with a soft smile, “Not jealous of you, jealous of him.”

That blank look on his face changes in a split second the moment your words reach his ears, and you watch that smirk you’d been growing used to seeing the past few minutes make a comeback.

Ross takes a step closer to you and it makes you have to look up at him. Even with the high heels you’ve got on, he’s still taller than you and you quite like that. Smoothly, he wraps an arm around your waist so he can pull you flush against his chest, “Should’ve mentioned that before, love.”

The pet name does to you the same as his lips trapping yours does—your knees buckle a bit and you instantly are wrapping your arms over his shoulders to keep him in place. The contrast between his soft lips and his rough beard drives you mad, your mouth falling open in a gasp that he swallows at the feeling of it all. And his tongue coming to meet yours has you dizzier than all the vodka you’ve had so far.

He tastes like whiskey and tobacco, and his tongue is diligent as it goes against your own. Your thoughts go straight to a lustful place, wondering if he’d be just as intent between your legs and adding what his beard might feel like against your thighs has you letting out a breathy moan in the kiss.

His fingers dig into the clothed skin of your waist possessively, like he wants to leave his mark on you and it only grows the need you feel running through your veins.

Your free hand goes up his neck and digs into his hair, which is annoyingly tied in a low bun that you end up pulling as if to say you wanna undo it and have his long hair fall freely so you can pull on it just how you want to.

A groan comes from deep in his chest and you swallow it proudly. You just cannot fight how much you enjoy the sound you’ve gotten out of him and it shows in your smile that interrupts the kiss, as he’s left half pecking your teeth.

You pull back slightly, looking down at his swollen lips which have a bit of your lipstick smudged on them and bring your thumb to clean them as you conclude, “That was good.”

“Very good.” Ross mumbles against your finger, biting the pad of it in the middle of your task which has you giggling like an idiot.

You stay silent and focused on his lips when you continue wiping them and once you’re done, you ask quietly, “Have you got anywhere to be first thing next year?”

“Like after midnight.” He asks back a bit puzzled by your wording.

“You’re so smart.” The sarcasm in your voice has him rolling his eyes in fake annoyance, but inside he’s excited and intrigued about what it is that you’re trying to do.

Your hand leaves his face to fall on his chest, and he notes how he likes this proximity with you as he says, “No, I don’t. Why?”

You pray he can’t see how nervous you are when you bravely ask, “Wanna come over to mine?”

In all honesty, Ross hadn’t expected that to be your inquiry but it’s the best surprise, “I would like that, yeah.” He would more than like that, he would love that but he plays it cool to not throw you off.

You’re trying to act cool as well, shrugging your shoulders and giving an alternative as if it didn’t matter where you went, “Or back to yours, I don’t mind.”

And it didn’t really matter where you ended up at, you both know where this is going and you couldn’t be more excited about it. No better way to start the new year.

“I’m fifteen minutes away.” Ross tells you in all honesty and seeing the sparkle in his eye at the last minute planning makes you incredibly giddy.

It shows just as clear in your smile when you say you’re “Thirty.” minutes away.

And the answer to where you’re taking this later is clear, only Ross settles it in stone when he says, “Mine then.”

You hum, looking down to his lips again and stealing one last peck from him before you nod and nonchalantly reply with, “Alright.” as if you’re not mentally begging time to go faster so you can leave with him.

“Shall we go back inside?” Ross asks with a smirk on his face, you can see how clearly smug he is about this going the way it is and it excites you.

So you nod, letting him take your hand and guide you inside. You walk past a large group of people and stumble into George, who’s at the decks queuing up some songs for everyone’s enjoyment.

You greet him and congratulate him on his stunning house and the brilliant party, pointing out how much you love the disco ball hanging from their ceiling, and he gives you a smile and a wholehearted thank you in return. You’d met George a fair few times when you got to go to Charli’s gigs as Cecilia put you in the guestlist, and he’d been an absolute sweetheart from the moment you met. You hadn’t even recognized him from his band then, and it had been rather refreshing to him that someone he met was being nice to him just for the sake of being it and not because of his job and who he was.

Of course the drummer tells Ross about it right then, very briefly how you had apologized for ten minutes straight for not recognizing him back then and you’d promised him you’d listen to his music again soon.

Ross pinches your waist as he laughs and he tells George how you hadn’t recognized him either until he’d said he was in the band with the drummer. Adding a paraphrased recount of you only knowing about Matty wanking on stage and eating raw meat.

You fully feel yourself burning up and you shake your head at them. “Yous are the worst.” You say with narrowed eyes and scoff before you’re excusing yourself, “I’m gonna get myself another drink, please continue taking the piss.”

Their laughter is what you hear behind you as you try to make your way through the crowd until the music drowns you and you get to the kitchen. There you fan your face and you smile like a fool to yourself.

However, suddenly, a squeal slips past your lips and it isn’t because of you thinking back to what has happened in the past twenty minutes, but because Cecilia pokes your ribs before she complains about you disappearing.

“Where have you been? It’s been almost half an hour and you still haven’t gotten another drink?”

You press your lips together and then turn back to your glass so you can make yourself your drink, “Sorry, I sort of got carried away talking to this guy…”

The loud gasp that she lets out manages to make you giggle shyly, “Who?!”

“Ross…” You quietly let her know and you leave her frozen in her place while you pour some vodka in your glass.

Silence engulfs you until you’re done making your cocktail and when you look back up to your best friend, you laugh at her agape mouth.

“As in–” She starts saying in shock and you nod.

“As in George’s best mate.” You bring your glass up to your lips and take a long sip, the sweet drink refreshing your throat but you can’t help but think back to how much you’d like to taste Ross again.

Before you can go back to the bassist though, Cecilia is dragging you back to the rest of the group you’d been with at the start of the party and squealing like a high schooler, she makes you tell her all about what’s happened.

You keep it brief, not really wanting to get in too much detail and ruin this for yourself but it seems like the simple knowledge that you’ve kissed him outside has them screeching and asking questions about it for what feels like an age.

It’s a miracle they let you go to the kitchen to get one of those little Patron bottles you’d seen laying around so that you could do shots together but what you aren’t expecting is for Ross to be leaning by the door of the kitchen seemingly waiting for you to come around.

“Where’d you go?” He asks curiously once you walk up to him, his arm snaking around your waist to bring you closer and it makes you smile.

You sigh, free hand coming up to his shoulder and you smooth the fabric of his black shirt there before you look up at him to say, “My friends found me and complained about me disappearing.” You watch as he analyzes every inch of your face and hums at your excuse, “They’re waiting for me now to bring them some tequila so…”

The silence that comes over you two after you drift off is nice, it’s not really that much silence because the music is still loudly shaking the walls but it’s peaceful enough to have you enjoying each other’s company.

He breaks it when he leans into your ear to say, “You better have not promised anyone a midnight kiss.”

You wait until he leans back and is looking at you for you to shake your head, “I haven’t.”

A simple, “Good.” is what you get back and you roll your eyes in amusement at the fact that this is clearly him wanting to have you say the words.

“Why? You wanna kiss me again?” All inhibitions are slowly being pushed out of the window the more time you spend with him and it feels thrilling.

“You know I do.” Ross says almost pained at the fact that he has to wait more time to get to that moment.

But you relieve him when you assure him, “You don’t need to wait until midnight to do it, babe.”

There is nothing more to say to have him pouncing on your lips and the hint of desperation in his actions makes you moan softly in his mouth. Ross has both of his arms wrapped around your waist tightly, pressing you against him in such way that you’re dreaming about the moment you get to feel him like this without your clothing in between. Your hands come up to cup his jaw, his beard tickling the palms of your hands and you’re the one to tease his mouth open when your tongue comes to lick at his bottom lip.

The meeting of your tongues heats up the kiss, tasting each other makes you both hungry to take everything the other can give. As one of your hands comes to cradle the back of his neck, he lets his free hand slowly drop down your lower back until it’s resting over your ass and a gasp slips past your lips when his fingers dig in your clothed flesh.

You certainly love the way he kneads your ass, cupping it and squeezing it with no mercy and you’re left wondering if he’s just like that in bed. Everything is so promising so far, you can feel the wetness starting to pool between your legs and ruining your underwear.

Instinctively you clench your thighs together and he chuckles into the kiss when he notices. Shy is not a word that has ever been used to describe you and Ross learns that by the way you seem smug about him catching onto you trying to relieve yourself even a little bit.

You pull back with a massive smirk on your face, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath and a subtle grind of your hips on his. The heavy exhale he lets out hits your parted mouth and you have to bite on your bottom lip to at least conceal in the slightest how that feeds into your ego.

His hand which was still on your ass confidently, squeezes it harshly and you drown the mewl it elicits out of you by pressing your lips together. Ross stares at you, eyes dropping from your eyes to your lips to your chest and then back up to your eyes so he can breathlessly ask, “How fast after midnight can we leave?”

“That eager?” It’s so hypocritical of you to tease him for it when you’re just as eager to go but you will never pass on the opportunity to have a man show you how much they want you first.

And Ross doesn’t let up exactly what’s going through his head, “You look stunning and I really don’t know if I can kiss you again and not want to take you in the middle of the room.”

Those words are enough for you to fully make up your mind about it all, if you had been sure you wanted this earlier then you’re entirely convinced there’s nothing else you want to do now.

It’s quickly that you think about the best time frame for you to go, you come to the conclusion, “Half past. I need to spend a bit of time with my friends so they don’t say I ditched them for some guy later.” You don’t necessarily want him to know you’ve told them who you had been talking to and kissing just in case that could put him off.

But it’s the way he narrows his eyes at you and pinches your ass as he repeats, “Some guy…” that makes you think maybe he wants you to tell them.

“Does it hurt your ego, Mr. Rockstar?” You can’t help but tease, there’s a darkness that shadows the brown of his eyes when you push at his buttons and you enjoy trying to find out what it is that could happen when he snaps.

Ross shakes his head at you, a soft chuckle managing to escape while he tells you to, “Shut up.” before he’s doing it himself.

Kissing him is something that you’re finding yourself to really enjoy and so you relish in the feeling for as long as you can. Your hands are in charge of keeping the other as close as possible, clutching onto each other tightly as if there was the possibility of being taken away. Nothing else is in your minds, wanting to take each other to the limit and that is until your lungs beg you to offer some oxygen to them and your lips separate from his with a smack.

“Okay, go on.” Ross instructs, a hint of satisfaction filling his insides after kissing you again, his hand patting your ass softly, “Back to them now, love. I’ll come get you at midnight.” There was only less than twenty minutes to wait until then so he was fine with seeing you go, knowing he was gonna have you back with him in a bit.

You nod with mischief written all over your face and he winks at you when you peel yourself off him. Out of the corner of your eye you watch how he walks off back into the crowd of the party, leaving you a flustered mess looking for one of those damn little Patron bottles for your friends.

The task gets pathetically hard with your mind still stuck on the thought of the bassist, the feeling of his touch on you and his presence right next to you. Eventually, you manage to get one of the bottles and you all but run back to your friends, as if rushing back to them would help time move faster until you got to see Ross again.

It’s so pathetic but you blame your hormones and the lack of action in your life the past few months thanks to your job.

The shots you do with your friends loosen you up a bit. And you find your hazy mind easier to get lost in the conversation and laugh more at your friend’s jokes because of the way you lose any grasp on time.

And that is the reason why you don’t notice him walking up to you until he’s right beside you and his hand is coming to delicately hold onto your waist.

“Ladies…” Ross clears his throat as his eyes go to every one of the five girls in the group, offering them a smile that teases a glance of the dimples on his cheeks, “Mind if I steal her from you?”

You look up at him through half lidded eyes, your smile so big it reaches your eyes in such way that it almost closes them and, god, does he melt at the sight.

“Go ahead.” Cecilia smirks knowingly and just to taunt you both, she asks, “Is she coming back for the countdown or shall we say happy New Year already?”

You groan and roll your eyes at her because she sounds like your mum, which has her laughing to herself and the rest of the girls are trying not to giggle at your behavior.

Ross nods though, a smile plastered on his face as if permanently, “I’ll have her back with you afterwards, don't worry.”

“Enjoy it then.” Cecilia cheers with a tilt of her glass and Ross nods at the gesture.

“Happy New Year.” The bassist wishes them as he brings his hands from your waist to your hand, intertwining your fingers before starting to walk away from your group of friends.

A chorus of “Happy New Year!” is heard right as you’re turning around and you wave comically at your friends as you walk beside Ross.

When you had gotten to the party, Charli had told you to leave your coats and bags in a room somewhere in the house so you didn’t have your phone on you to look at the time. You did have a small watch on your right wrist though, and when you catch a glance of the time while Ross guides you back to his friends, you giggle.

“Five minutes early. Aren’t you impatient?” Your smile is big on your face and just thinking about how he has had to be looking for you for a bit makes your stomach flip.

His hands drop yours to bring it around your waist and guide you to walk in front of him, you bite your bottom lip when you feel him press himself flush against your back as you continue walking into the crowd.

“I think that’s being punctual.” Ross quips back easily, leaning down to say the words in your ear.

Just when you manage to walk past a large group of people dancing and you get to spot a bit far away from the center of the room, you stop in your tracks and turn around to face him.

Purposely, your arms go over his shoulders and wrap around his neck. He leans in, thinking you’re about to give him the opportunity to taste your mouth again but you skip past his lips and lean further until your lips graze his ear.

Whispering, you deem his behavior, “A bit desperate.” and he instantly reacts to it by digging his fingers into your waist and pushing his hips forwards to press on yours.

“You wouldn’t have come in time.” He explains breathlessly once you pull back so you can see his eyes again.

By pressing your lips together you avoid smiling too much at his words, humming before you play in on his train of thought, “So you were just making sure I kept to my word?”

“Exactly.” He nods with a serious expression on his face like you understanding his point was a pressing matter.

You roll your eyes with a snort of laughter and sarcastically note, “How kind of you.”

But before he can add something else in his defense, someone comes from behind you and Ross lets go of you to hug them. You watch with a soft smile and your cheeks burning up because of how they had found you and Ross and it seemed like these people were Ross’ long time friends.

“Y/N, this is John and his fiance, Lilly.” Ross introduces them to you and you shake their hands with a sweet smile on your face, “Lilly, John, this is Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you!” You say kindly, and you’re so relieved to see the genuine smiles on their faces as they reciprocate the sentiment.

You expect Ross to start the conversation but he’s got an empty glass in hand and your hands are completely empty so he asks you, “Do you want another drink?”

“Oh, sure. Please.”

Ross nods and excuses himself quickly, the three of you watch as he walks in direction to the kitchen and when he disappears from your sights, you turn back to each other and start small talk.

In the few minutes it takes Ross to come back, you find that John plays the sax for the band and his fiance works in the medical field as a nutritional therapist and biomedical practitioner. They ask you how you know Ross and you honestly tell them about how you’d ended up at the party and met Ross an hour before.

The bassist appears behind you just when you’re sharing how you hadn’t recognized him at first until he said he was best mates with George, letting his presence be known with an amused, “Oh yeah, she had no idea who I was.”

You scoff, and you try to defend yourself by pointing out, “You looked familiar!” but he raises his eyebrows at you and tilts his head slightly at you like he’s saying wordlessly that he doesn’t believe you and all you can do is sigh in defeat. He hands you the drink he got for you and you say a soft, “Thank you.” before he comes to stand beside you, an arm wrapped around your waist to keep you pressed to his side.

There’s something possessive about his touch and you find yourself enjoying it far too much, your head going places it shouldn’t and continuing to build on the anticipation inside you. It’s like a tower of wooden blocks that keeps growing taller and you know there’s only so much you can go without feeling more of him—or all of him, if you’re able.

Your conversation gets interrupted when you hear there’s only a minute left until midnight and after that, you’re all just warily letting your words out as if being careful not to miss the moment midnight strikes.

But it’s impossible to miss it when the countdown starts from ten and Ross swiftly turns you around with a smirk on his face that grows as you hear, “Five, four, three, two, one… Happy New Year!”

You meet in the middle, your hand cupping his jaw while his holds your waist. It is quite delicate in comparison to the previous kisses you’ve shared and you can’t help but think if it has anything to do with the fact that his friends are right beside you. Not that they’re paying you two any attention though, as they’re both lost in each other’s lips too.

The heat between your bodies grows when his tongue teases your open mouth but he lets you be the one to deepen the kiss. You really enjoy being the one to take control but soon it’s like he fights back to be the one to direct the kiss and the kiss elongates and becomes more intent until you just have to pull back to catch your breath.

“Happy New Year.” Ross wishes you with his pupils blown out, his gaze hungry looking down at you and his fingers resting tightly on your waist like he’s holding himself back from pouncing on your lips again.

With a quiet, “Happy New Year.” you reciprocate before being the one to grant his silent wish, and you’re really glad he’s holding you because your legs weaken when hearing him groan into your open mouth the second you crash your lips together again.

When you break the second kiss, it seems like he doesn’t want to let you go—his hand on your waist still holding you close to him and he dips his head to leave pecks on your lips that he’s trying to turn into a proper kiss again.

The giggles that escape you make him smile, your thumb rubs over one of his dimples matching his grin and you playfully remind him, “You promised I’d be back after midnight.”

“Did I?” He plays dumb, pressing another chaste kiss on your lips that makes you whine.

You shake your head at him, narrowed eyes like you’re really surveilling his every move and you press, “You did.”

The sudden announcement that comes from Charli through the speakers distracts you and when the song she’s announced being a remix she and George did for a Caroline Polachek song comes on, you forget you should be going back. You’re jaw dropped at the song, not only because of how fucking good it is but from the rather hot lyrics and you can’t help but think good for her about Charli when the song is over.

Turning back to the bearded man who still has a tight grip around your waist to keep you close, you make sure to give him a challenging look. Ross sighs in defeat and says, “You’ve got thirty minutes now.” not without cheekily letting his hand fall to your ass and squeezing it before you can go.

“Keep an eye on the clock for me then.” You say after you giggle, tapping on his chest and stealing one last peck before you’re off to hug John and Lilly to wish them a happy new year and finally excuse yourself to go back to your friends.

It’s not really like you want to go but you’re enjoying the tension building up and maybe you really want to squeal about it to your friends. You’re far too elated about it all and it’s hard to keep your composure in front of him with the lingering touches and the kisses he gives you, especially under the influence of the drinks you’ve had all night.

That’s why it’s not really a surprise you keep checking your watch when you’ve finally found your friends and you can’t go more than ten minutes with them before you’re hugging them all goodbye and saying you’re going back home.

Cecilia is the one who narrows her eyes at you, your eagerness shining through you and she has a feeling home is not really where you’re heading but she reckons if anything happens, you’ll be telling her soon enough—you’d just told them how you and Ross had shared a New Year’s kiss and had gone into a bit of detail about it.

There is almost a skip in your step as you go to the kitchen to leave your glass behind and then off to get your coat and bag, miraculously stumbling into the right door when you look for the room everyone had left their stuff at. And with growing excitement, you walk back to where you remember leaving Ross behind.

Ross is the one who gets surprised when he sees you walking in his direction from across the room. He pulls out his phone from the pocket of his black trousers and checks the time, frowning in curiosity when seeing that it’s merely a quarter past midnight.

“You’ve still got fifteen minutes.” He points out when he meets you in the middle, having excused himself from a conversation with some lads, pocketing his phone again.

You shrug nonchalantly, praying he can’t see the way you just can’t wait anymore written on your face, “Yeah well, I think we can use those to be on our way to yours.”

He smirks, downing the rest of his drink and using your words from before on you, “That eager?”

You just stare at him, your tongue poking on your cheek and you end up sighing to say, “You’re not getting an answer to that.”

Something shifts in him, dark eyes looking intently at you through his lashes and he leans closer to your face so he can mumble against your lips, “Oh I will, love.”

There is something about it, a hidden message—maybe a promise masked as a threat—and it makes every atom in your body buzz in anticipation. In your head you’re speculating all about what this could mean, picturing if he’s going to be the type to kiss you until you get to his room and then push you face down on his bed to fuck you into the matress or if he will be one of those who can barely make it to their settee before the need for release takes over and has you ride him with your tits pressed all over his face so he can suck bruises as you milk him dry.

You clench around nothing, getting flustered again and your arousal wetting your underwear. So you don’t waste another second to ask, “Are you ready to go?”

“Definitely.” He nods, grabbing your hand delicately and he smiles seeing your coat hanging on the crook of your elbow, your bag hanging off your shoulder. Yet, he still inquires, “Are you?” and you only hum in response.

That’s the green light he needs to pull out his phone from his pocket and order you two an Uber back to his place. Fortunately, it’s only about eight minutes that you have to wait for it to arrive since it’s not that late yet and you watch as he places the device back in his pocket before grabbing your hand so you can go outside.

“Aren’t you gonna say goodbye to your mates?” You ask quite puzzled, but he shrugs it off like it’s really not important.

“They’ll survive.”

It makes you laugh softly but you follow as he leads you to the front door. Someone opens it before he can and, of course, the quite tipsy girl who walks in seems to be his friend because they hug very briefly.

Comically though, Ross says hello and goodbye in the same sentence and you have to swallow a cackle when the girl’s face contorts in confusion. But she comes to an understanding when Ross pulls on your hand and you walk a step closer, almost pressed to his back.

“Hi.” You smile at her and wave amicably, your insides warm when you see her smile and wave back, about to say something to you but then Ross is a little shit and pulls you away as he walks through the threshold of the main door, taking you with him.

A mouthed apology is all you can manage before you’re closing the door behind you. “Taxi’s not even here.” You call him out for taking you away, but he nods like it’s knowledge that really doesn’t change anything.

Instead, he takes out his packet of cigarettes from one of his pockets and lights one up in between his lips, his cheeks hollowing slightly and the smoke coming out of his nose and his parted mouth.

His hand extends to offer you one but you once again turn him down, this time explaining further with, “I don’t smoke, Ross.”

To which he coos as if you’re a child, and his mocking, “Awh, aren’t you cute?” makes you roll your eyes.

It’s quite cold outside, so you put your coat on and cross your arms over your chest, trying to keep warm as you wait. He notices that regardless of that, you’re still shaking so he takes a stride towards you and throws his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him—your cheek resting on his chest comfortably, taking advantage of the moment to inhale his scent and smile at the feeling of his chest hair tickling at your face.

He continues smoking as he cradles you into him and, despite having to breathe a bit of the smoke he’s exhaling, you enjoy the feeling of being held by him in silence.

It’s only a minute after he’s dropped the bud to the ground and stepped on it that the taxi comes around, greeting you with a lovely “Happy New Year.” that you both reciprocate. You’re the one to rush to open the door, but you don’t go in, instead you make Ross go first and, at first, he’s trying to get you get in before him but you stubbornly stand your ground and he begrudgingly enters the vehicle.

Ross is about to scoot to the side so you can sit to his left when you get in but his breath hitches in his throat when you let yourself land on his lap and you purposely squirm over him before you’re actually taking a seat to his right.

His head whips to the side to look at you but you act like you can’t feel it, your gaze stuck straight ahead but a smirk managing to tug at the corners of your lips against your will.

The taxi starts moving once Ross closes the door and the driver makes light conversation as he goes. You’re answering enthusiastically, letting him know a brief summary of the party you were at and giving him a little white lie about how you two were so tired that you decided to go back home early.

The smile on your face falters when you feel Ross’ big hand coming to rest on your thigh before he’s clutching it tightly and squeezing it to make you squirm in your seat.

“It’s been a long day mate. We’re going home and heading straight to bed.” He adds into the conversation, a blank expression on his face as if he wasn’t letting his hand slowly trail up further up your thigh, making your skin break out on goosebumps at the touch.

The leg slit of your dress has allowed for it to go further up and the skin of your thighs show dangerously close to where your underwear hugs your hips. And Ross is taking full advantage of the access he has to make your heart rate speed up. His fingers are rubbing circles on your skin, slowly inching closer to your inner thigh and you really have to bite your tongue not to shiver and make any noise.

He smirks when he hears your breathing getting heavier the more his fingers get closer to your heat and he annoyingly continues the conversation with the driver like he isn’t doing what he’s doing.

You jolt in your place when his pinky finger moves up and grazes your cunt, and you hear him hum to himself in satisfaction when he feels your wetness soaking the material of your underwear.

It’s a sadistic conflict that goes inside your head when he lets his hand trail downwards on your thigh again, feeling every inch of distance between his fingers and your center. You want him back touching you where you need him most but you also don’t know if you can keep quiet with how desperate you are for some friction.

The relief you get when he takes his hand up again is unreal, your mouth parting slightly in anticipation but you have to close it tightly not to let out a gasp when his pinky grazes you again but instead of leaving this time, he rubs it up and down your clothed core until he finds your clit.

Ross feels it pulsating under the pad of his finger and he smirks to himself when he starts drawing circles on it and your legs twitch.

You’re so incredibly turned on by him and the intent behind his actions, the high chance of you getting caught fills you with a rush of adrenaline that morphs into pleasure that’s making your head spin.

He’s so relentless at trying to get a proper reaction out of you that could get you caught that he presses a bit harder on your swollen clit and he’s victorious when you can’t hide the soft gasp that leaves you and you let your head pathetically fall down on his shoulder. Your hair coming to cover your face which is contorted in a frown induced by pleasure.

“Oh, is she falling asleep?” The driver asks, seeing your sudden movement through the rearview mirror and you’re half mortified hearing that, though Ross’ skilled finger moving on you takes over most of your thoughts.

Your walls are fluttering around nothing, and you feel like you’re so fucking close to the edge when suddenly, Ross’ hand is gone. He robs you of his touch in a fleeting second, hand coming to rest on your knee instead and he pats on it awkwardly in comparison to the teasing touches he had been leaving on you since the start of the drive.

“Yeah, bless her. She’s really tired.” He replies with a faux pity, you can hear the laughter stuck in his throat. “We’ll get to bed soon, love.” His words are now directed at you and you really want to glare at him and mockingly recite them back to him but you stay in your place and silent instead.

The driver, blissfully unaware of what had actually happened, kept quiet for the rest of the drive so he could let you sleep. Bless that old man. If he only knew you wanted to throw a tantrum over the pleasure that had been stolen from you.

It’s about seven minutes later that you stop at your destination and the sweetness you offer the driver when you bid him farewell and thank him is gone when you’re walking into the building with Ross.

His eyes are stuck on you when you’re walking next to each other, because instead of being close to him, you make it a show of inching away from him as you walk towards the lifts. He wants to laugh, his amused grin showing the dimples on his cheeks and the wrinkles by his eyes.

“You’re grumpy.” He points out when the lift doors close behind you, clicking on the button for the sixth floor.

Your scoff is telling enough but it becomes even clearer how annoyed you are when you spout, “You’re a fucking tease.”

The bassist coos at you, clear mockery of your inability to take it and it’s a contrast to the meek, “That’s nothing.” he lets out right after.

You’re huffing and puffing as you follow him through the halls but when you walk into his flat, you shed your coat with a pout on your face. Your tantrum melts into your best try at puppy eyes so he has some mercy on you and resumes what he was doing as soon as possible.

He looks at you entirely amused but he lets a bit of sweetness seep into his actions and words when he grabs your coat from your hands, “Let me get that for you.” He gets your bag next and hangs it right next to it.

Your skin tingles at the change of temperature from outside and you hum and close your eyes in bliss, mumbling a happy, “Oh, it’s warm in here.”

But he quickly points out how “You’re still shaking.” and you sigh because it’s a bit embarrassing he notices just how poorly you do in the cold.

“I know.” Your arms cross over your chest again and his gaze falls straight down to your tits, you’re pushing them up by doing that and he just wants to bite on the flesh of them.

You take one step forward and he comes up behind you, his arms wrapping around your middle. When he dips his head down, you feel the hair in the back of your neck rising and you almost shiver when he whispers, “Lucky for you, I know just how to get you warm very quickly.”

“Do you, now?” You mischievously quip back as you turn around, your arms wrapping around his neck instinctively, as if you know exactly what he’s going to do.

Except, Ross hums deeply and leans down onto you just enough for his hands to get ahold of the back of your thighs and with incredible strength, he picks you up like it’s nothing. It elicits a squeak to fall past your lips and your legs go around his waist instantly, you thought he was going to kiss you but him picking you up like this has just the same effect.

Like this, you’re the one to look down at him and you really like the way his eyes are drinking you in this way. It feels like ages but it’s barely half a minute. He bounces you up and catches you again, but it’s all so his hands could be holding you from your ass and it makes you laugh.

Your fingers go up his neck until they disappear in his hair and you softly pull on it as you say, “You think you’re smooth, don’t you?”

He cocks his head and he grips your ass as he starts walking, “Am I not?”

“I haven’t made my mind up about it yet.” Your answer is teasing like all of them before, and he’s already thinking about whether or not you’ll be a brat when you’re under him in bed.

Ross rolls his eyes playfully at you and you take the lack of witty comeback from him as the opportunity to pounce on his lips. He freely lets himself hum into the kiss, it’s hungry from the second your lips touch and your tongues taste each other desperately. It’s like you both agree there’s no time to be wasted here, not more than has been wasted already tonight, and the sound of your heels thudding on the floor after you toe them off is the confirmation of it.

You gotta say you find his ability to multitask impressive because before you know it, he’s kicking his door open without breaking the kiss and still holding you up.

His steps come to a stop when his knees hit the edge of his bed and you hold him tightly as he leans in so he can lie you on it softly. His right arm goes around your waist so he can help you up the bed, his left hand keeps your leg around him as he kneels on the bed and crawls up until you both can comfortably fit on it. Not that it’d be uncomfortable when you break the kiss and you catch a glimpse of the king sized bed you’re laying on.

In a blink of an eye, his lips have gone down to your jaw to start attacking the rest of your skin and you shudder under him when he licks from your collarbone up the side of your neck until his nose hits your ear.

His teeth catch your earlobe and it makes you gasp, he tugs on it softly and when he lets it free, he asks, “How about now?”

You try to suppress every reaction your body is begging to show, but letting a shaky breath before you conclude, “I reckon I need some more convincing.” A devilish grin shows on your face and he takes it in the view of you beneath him like this: hair splayed over the covers, pupils blown out and dark in lust, lips red and swollen from the kiss you’ve just shared, tits wanting to spill out of your dress.

He leans closer to your mouth, noses barely touching, “You’re greedy.” He mumbles against your lips and your first instinct is to lick his bottom lip.

The wetness of your tongue suddenly swiping across his mouth makes his hips buck into yours and you take your tongue back inside your mouth to show a toothy grin and agree, “I am.”

Ross is completely taken aback, and there is certainly not a thing he’s not thinking about doing to you, with you and on you. “Fucking hell, Y/N/N.” He curses in a low voice, his chest vibrates against you and you’re the one to grab the back of his neck to have his lips back against yours.

Your tongue laps at his and all that’s heard in the room is the loud smacking of your lips as the kiss grows fervent. Your hands go down his shoulders to the front of his chest and your quick nimble fingers undo each button of his shirt. You can feel his heaving chest under your hands once the shirt is completely open and you push it off him messily, wordlessly saying you want it off.

He breaks the kiss, a heavy breath hitting your parted mouth before he pushes off the bed and takes the shirt off the quickest he can. The second he throws it somewhere behind him, he comes back down to hover over you but this time he goes straight down to attack your neck.

His beard feels coarse on your skin but his swollen lips feel warm and he glides his wet tongue over the skin he bruises, and the combination of it all drives you crazy. He doesn’t relent on his actions, only making you moan and mewl louder as he goes.

You’re a whimpering mess when his hands start bunching your dress up until he reveals your stomach and he starts pressing open mouthed kisses on every inch of the skin he’s just uncovered.

The tips of his nose ghosts a trail down from your sternum to your belly button and further down until it hits the edge of your underwear, sitting just on your mound. His teeth grapes at the fabric and he tugs it a little only to let it spring free and snap against your skin.

You jolt in your place, a gasp coming from your throat out into the air and getting lost when he runs his tongue flat along the edge of the lace of your underwear and a moan gets stuck in the back of your throat.

“Are you gonna be good and do as I say?” He mumbles against the skin of your lower stomach, his beard tickling you and the feeling rushing straight down between your legs.

“Yes…” You nod fervently, your eyes closing tightly when he starts kissing over your clothed heat and when he licks a strip up your folds, you’re letting out a strangled, “Oh, fuck, yes!”

His cock twitches in his pants, and he feels himself starting to harden. “That’s a good girl.” Ross praises with one last kiss to you clit, his warm breath feels further away a second later and it has you opening your eyes to see where he’s gone.

He’s just staring at your ruined underwear, willing the image of you at his mercy to brand its place in his mind. His hands are on your thighs, so close to where your underwear sits on your hips and you have to plead with a pathetic and breathy, “Ross…” to snap him out of his trance.

“Yes, love?” The bassist asks, leaving a soft kiss on your inner thigh and looking up at you through his lashes.

“Please.” You lift your hips up to show him exactly what you’re asking for and he smiles sweetly at you, taking pity in your desperation.

“I know, I know.” He nods and his fingers finally hook on the sides of your underwear, but it’s at an agonizing speed that he peels it off you. He pulls back to take it fully off, throwing it mindlessly as he’s far much more interested in watching your glistening cunt finally on show for him. “Look at this sweet cunt.” He coos and his mouth water seeing your arousal making a mess of you, “So wet for me.” He lays on his front again, head between your legs and he hooks his arms under your thighs so his hands come clutching you in place over them. His hips buck forward and he groans at the friction relieving him in the slightest.

You take a deep breath which leaves you almost immediately when his tongue finally makes contact with your heat. He laps at you like a starved man, groaning from the depths of his chest at your taste, “So sweet for me.”

Your legs close around his head subconsciously and your hand comes to his head so your fingers can tangle in his hair as he continues lapping at you. His tongue starts flicking at your clit and it’s impossible for you to control your moans. His beard tickles the inside of your thighs and once again, it’s the contrast between the roughness of his beard and his wet tongue skillfully going quickly at your swollen clit that’s beginning to send you into overdrive.

“Fuck, Ross.” Your back arches off the bed and your fingers pull harshly on his hair making him groan against you, his hips writhe against the mattress and he’s sure he could cum just hearing you like this and dry humping the bed.

You’re just about able to catch a breath when he pulls back slightly but a loud whiny, “Shit!” leaves you when his lips wrap around your clit and he starts sucking on it with intent.

Your hips write against his face, looking for even more from him because you’re feeling the hints of an orgasm start to build up in your lower stomach. But then he pulls back, letting go of your clit with a pop and you whine at the loss.

His index and middle fingers come to take over and he rubs quick circles on your bundle of nerves. Your hips roll against his digits to aid in the friction and you really try to look at him but it feels so good that you can’t pick your head up from the mattress.

“Look at you clenching around nothing.” He points out, marveled at your dripping throbbing cunt.

A loud whine from your mouth bounces on the walls of his room, echoing out the hallway. Your mind is gone, all you can see is stars behind your eyelids and your only constant thought is him and getting to cum so you stupidly reply a desperate, “Yes, please!”

“Please.” Ross mocks with a laugh, his fingers stopping their attack on your clit to rub up and down between your folds, gathering your arousal, “Greedy girl. What do you want now? My fingers?”

An attempt of a hum comes from you but it sounds more like a moan, “Yes, anything. Please.”

“So well mannered.” Ross calls out, dropping kisses on your inner thighs, first the left and then the right and before he can wrap his lips around your clit again, he snorts, “Please, she says.” He sucks on your sensitive clit harshly and you yell out, legs starting to tremble.

He pulls back once again, earning him another whine in complaint but he dismisses it and asks, “Are you gonna be good and listen if I stuff you with my fingers?”

You nod eagerly, humming too so your confirmation is clear but he doesn’t accept it. With a slap to your clit, he makes you jolt and a high pitch moan comes out of you at the same time as he calls out, “Words, Y/N.”

“Yes, I will be good.” You reply breathlessly, “Please. I promise. Promise.” If he asked you to beg, you would. You couldn’t care less anymore.

Without a warning he dips one finger, your jaw going slack at the feeling of his long finger inside you but since you’re so wet, he knows you can take another one.

“Ohhhhh fuckkkk…” You breath out at the stretch, your walls clenching around him tightly and a shiver runs down your spine. Your toes curl when he drags them out slowly, almost all the way out to them dips them back inside you and just like that he sets a slow pace.

“Tight sweet cunt.” He says as he watches your cunt swallow his fingers, welcoming him warmly and drenching his hand as he goes. His mouth falls when he starts going faster and you meet him in the middle when you start bucking your hips into his hand, “All mine.”

Despite being knuckle deep inside you, he’s almost drooling, wanting more of you so he brings his tongue back on you, flicking at your clit again. You squirm and call out his name in sweet moans that he’s getting drunk on, but he wants you loud and begging so he goes back to sucking your clit and it makes him want to smile when you respond just how he wanted to the second he does that.

“Ross! Ross! Oh fuck yes!” You scream, nails digging into his scalp desperately while your other hand comes to claw at the duvet on his bed, white knuckle grip that serves as the only hint of grounding you have right now.

But any trace of sanity leaves you when he starts shaking his head, lips still wrapped around your clit and sucking. It makes you scream, your thighs fully closing around his head to keep him there, fighting the strength of his one hand trying to pin your right leg back down on the bed. His beard feels so fucking good, and you’re sure the beard burn will be worth enduring tomorrow because now every single one of your nerve endings is tingling at the feeling of it all.

He pulls back again, your legs falling limp on the bed again for a second before they’re shaking again but you’re being good and trying to keep them open.

Your arousal is glistening all over his beard and a mess of his spit and your wetness trailing down the corners of his mouth. His eyes don’t leave your cunt, looking intently at how he’s fucking into you, scissoring you open so you’re ready for him later.

His other hand comes to tease your clit, slowly this time. You had been so close just then, about to give in and fall off the edge when he took it from you. It’s torturous and you have no idea how much of that you can take.

Soon he feels you clenching around him, your orgasm building up faster now so he hums, “Just like that.” Ross rubs on your clit faster and you feel it coming at any second, the coil in your stomach about to snap so you get louder, pure gibberish as your thighs shake and they start to close again.

“So– So fucking good!” You manage out, your hips writhing against his hands again, the friction being incredibly perfect and you know there’s only a bit more left for you to let go, “Oh f-fuck, m’gonna cum.”

His fingers thrust into you. Once, twice.

And then, they’re gone.

“No, no, no, no.” Your eyes are wide, your chest heaving and a thin coat of sweat makes your skin glisten. The surprise has your grip on his hair and the duvet loosening so he kneels back on the bed and watches your reaction with a wicked grin.

You try to sit yourself up but you’re so frustrated, your body is exhausted and it doesn’t cooperate so you have to wait for him to crawl back up to you to see what he’s doing.

“You taste so good, love.” The cheeky fucker says before sucking his fingers clean, your arousal coating his tongue and he groans around his digits as he tastes you.

Your legs wrap around his waist and your push on his ass with your heels so he hovers over you. Desperately, you cup his jaw and start begging, “No, Ross. Baby, please. Please. Please.”

“Is it baby now?” One of his eyebrows raise and you nod stupidly. “You’re cute.” He replies with a chuckle and you whine in frustration.

You hate that he’s finding this entertaining, “Why would you do that? I was so close!” Another whine comes from you, making his grin impossibly bigger, “That’s not fair!”

His laughter is about to make you angry so before you actually snap at him, you bring your hand down to rub at your clit yourself. But before you’re even past your belly button, his fingers wrap around your wrist and he pins your hand on bed over your head.

A darkness shadows the brown in his eyes as he utters a curt, “No.”

“But–” You try to fight him but he interrupts with another, “No.”

Your mouth opens to complain some more but he kisses you to shut you up. His mouth presses harshly on yours and you whine in annoyance, you don’t want him to have control if he’s gonna play with you like this.

In an attempt to get him back, your hand goes to the back of his neck and to his hair, pulling on his man bun harshly so his head tilts back slightly with a gasp falling from his lips. Some strands of his hair fall free and tickle the sides of your face. You smile in satisfaction.

A fire sparks within him at your sudden defiance and with just the same strength, he grabs your other wrist and pins it over your head too.

He attacks your lips again, his hips pressing viciously into your sensitive core and you writhe against him in response, he’s so hard in his trousers and it makes you want to win control over so bad. You’re trying to fight who’s in charge here and god it’s turning you on even more.

The kiss is all tongue and teeth clashing, heavy breaths and groans, moans and spit dribbling down the corners of your mouths. But then he deprives you of yet again another pleasure when he pulls back. Yet this time he takes your bottom lip between his teeth, digging onto your delicate flesh, tugging on it as you pull back.

Wetness pools between your legs at his actions and you arch into him in pleasure, whining for him and because of him again.

He lets go of your bottom lip and you stare at him with your mouth agape, heavy breaths to get some oxygen back in your lungs and the ache between your legs almost hurting at this point.

That’s why, your eyes roll into your skull when he has one of his hands gripping both of your wrists in place over your head so his other hand comes to get ahold of your face and he seriously spouts, “Are you gonna be a brat and keep complaining? Or are you gonna be a good girl and take it?”

You don’t wanna give him an answer but you know exactly what you’re choosing and your pride takes a blow at it.

Alternatively, you figure there isn’t any better way to forget about words than clashing your lips together again but when you lift your head to capture his mouth in yours, he pulls back and demands, “Answer.”

You huff when he pies you off, rolling your eyes and clenching your fists, a long few beats of silence go by before you begrudgingly reply, “I’m gonna be good.”

“I know you will be.” Ross says with a wicked smile on his face, his ego getting a fill at you submitting yourself to him.

That’s when he finally gives you the pleasure of another kiss, this time more mindful than the last and he lets go of his hold on your wrists so you can touch him how you want, silently telling you this isn’t just about what he wants.

One of his hands delicately holds your face as his lips move on yours and his other hand is on your waist, fingers digging into your skin and lighting a fire under his touch. He goes up but finds your ribs still being covered by the velvet material of your dress so he tries to push it up, failing to move it even an inch.

You let go of his lips to offer him some guidance but you barely manage to tell him, “Zip’s on the back.” because his lips keep pressing wet kisses on your mouth.

Ross hums into your mouth when your lips interlock again but he only lets the kiss keep going for a few more seconds, a smack sounding inside the room when he pulls back slightly and then he mumbles against your lips, “Turn around for me, love.”

He says that but he actually helps you flip around so you’re laying on your stomach beneath him, his weight comes to softly press on you when he hovers over you again. His right hand pushes your hair to the side so he can uncover the skin on the back of your neck and he starts a trail of kisses from there.

His mouth leaves patches of wetness as he presses a kiss on every exposed inch of skin on your back, and you let out a few giggles when his beard tickles you on a sensitive spot.

The tension dawns heavily on you when his hand finally goes to grasp at the zipper and, very slowly, he starts pulling it down. You feel it reach its limit and his breath hits the newly exposed skin of your lower back.

The bed dips slightly when he crawls down so he can wrap his arm around your middle and pull you up to your knees on the bed, just like he is. You don’t argue, the anticipation makes you grow hotter and you quite like letting him handle you. With those big strong calloused hands of his.

A shiver runs down your spine when his ghostly touch comes over your shoulders and his fingers push on the straps on your shoulders swiftly. With the straps no longer holding the front of the dress up, the fabric falls flimsily to pool around your waist and your breasts are finally exposed, your hard nipples finally on show for him.

Ross props his chin on your shoulder and a heavy breath comes from him, hitting the side of your neck as he catches a glimpse of your beauty. His hands come back down to bunch the skirt of the dress up to your waist and he drops a kiss or two on your shoulder before he’s pulling the dress up your body and finally taking it off you.

The silence that has taken over the room is deafening, that’s why when he throws your dress on the floor you hear it land with a soft thud on his wooden floors. And when his hands hold onto the sides of your waist and pull you flush against his front, the gasp you let out rings loudly in your ears. You can feel his hard length pressed on your ass and you’re not sure how you’re gonna take him later, your cunt throbs at the idea of him splitting you open.

But he’s cruel about his touch, keeping it slow as his fingers trail up the sides of your waist, feeling every ridge of your ribs, coming down your abdomen to your thighs before he can even get to your tits. But when he does, you’re shattering the bubble of silence like a hammer to a mirror.

His hands come up to cup your tits and he’s gentle at first, gracing them like he’s trying to memorize how they feel in his hands. Your breathing grows heavy, and you’re baffled by the fact of how much you’re feeling from his touch on your breasts—attributing the fact that you’re feeling so affected by it because of him edging you.

But then Ross gives your nipples attention and you all but lose it with everything he does.

He starts by flicking them and bolts of electricity run down every nerve ending of your body. He stops and his hands start kneading on your tits harshly, making you whimper and lose stability. It’s like you’re drunk for a moment when his fingers dig into your breasts like he’s trying to mold them to his pleasure but then he shocks you awake when he pinches your nipples with his thumbs and index fingers.

“Fuckkkk.” You curse loudly as he continues to use that pattern, your head falling back to rest on his shoulder as you moan out into the air, your ass rubbing on his hard cock as you clench your thighs together.

You know he enjoys seeing you like this. You know it from the way his breathy laugh hits your neck, from the way his teeth sink into the flesh at the side of the base of your neck and you shiver in his arms, from the way he hums in approval of your every reaction.

And you honestly should’ve expected him to stop.

You should’ve.

But you didn’t.

So you’re left whining again, at the loss of yet another form of pleasure. But this time he doesn’t laugh at your needy behavior, instead he places soft kisses on your shoulder rubbing circles on your waist where he’s holding you.

He plants a string of kisses up your neck and when he reaches your ear, he whispers, “Can you lay on your front for me, love?”

There is no negotiation to be had anymore, nothing to be discussed within yourself because all you want is to reach your orgasm, so you nod desperately, spouting a rush, “Yeah, yes.” before you slowly lay back down on your front.

“You’re so good aren’t you?” His hands come to rest on your hips, rubbing circles on your skin as he admires the view.

“Mhm.” You hum in agreement, only softly because you don’t want to push it anymore. You don’t wanna fight him, you just want Ross to make you cum.

His hands pull your ass up and even with your hazy mind you understand what he wants, so you arch your back so your ass is up for him, your cunt on full show just for him and your face pressed on its side on the mattress.

“Poor little cunt, left it a mess didn’t I?” His words fall slowly from his lips, his tone lowering as he brings a finger down to your wetness and he bites his bottom lip when he runs it up and down your folds. He watches the slight tremble of your legs and he smiles to himself when you press your face straight into the mattress so a cry is muffled against the duvet, “Does it hurt?”

You turn your head to watch him out of the corner of your eye, over your shoulder and you pout, another pathetic cry leaving you as you say, “Yes.”

“Should I help you relieve the ache?” He asks this time, his finger leaving your cunt alone to come grasp at the flesh of your ass and roughly knead it until you’re squirming and moving your hips in the air in search of something, anything.

“Yes, please, yes.” You plead desperately, not a sign of embarrassment in sight at how pathetic you sound.

“Should I?” Ross taunts you by asking, and you close your eyes trying not to cry so you don’t see him lowering down.

Your hands grip onto the duvet hard when you feel him start biting softly on the backs of your thighs and your legs start to shake instantly. He enjoys seeing the effect he has on you, and you feel the smile on his face when his lips graze up your skin and then back down, only to lick a stripe up your leg before he’s switching that for open mouthed kisses which come back around to soft bites.

Whimpers and begging is all that comes from you, your legs shaking and your mind going haywire from the sensory overdrive. It’s his beard combined with his wet tongue and his plush lips and his teeth biting on your flesh. You’re going mad.

You lose track of time entirely, drunk on every sensation he brings you until he finally goes back to where you’re aching for him—throbbing for him.

“Fucking dripping, babe” He points out, almost drooling at the sight but instead of tasting you again, he brings his fingers up and slides two in easily. “Look at you, taking me so well.” His fingers drag out of you and when he sinks them back in, he growls. “Think you can take a third, love?” He’s already daydreaming about stuffing you with his cock in a bit, hitting your hilt every time he thrusts into you.

Despite his mind being busy making up a scenario based on his current views, he notices you haven’t answered. You have your face pressed on the bed, almost suffocating yourself because you’re feeling so much pleasure, every moan is stuck in your throat.

His big hand strikes mercilessly on one of your ass cheeks, letting loose every noise you’d been holding and coming out in a yelp as you jolt forward. You clench around his fingers at the hit, and he smirks looking at the print of his hand becoming a darker pink as the seconds go by.

“Answer.” He demands with another loud hit on your ass, which earns him a pornographic moan from you. It goes straight to his cock, his hand coming to adjust himself in his trousers as if that could help in any way.

“Yes, I can take it.” You whine in an obnoxious high pitch. If you could see yourself now, you’d roll your eyes at yourself, sounding like a bitch in heat. But you don’t care right now, because he gives you what he’s promising.

With your approval, Ross slowly dips a third finger inside you and he hears your loud mewl as you stretch around him. Your walls adjust to the new digit after a few seconds and once he feels you relaxed again, he starts pumping them in and out of you at a decent pace.

The bassist is completely entranced by the sight, the squelching sounds of his fingers coming in and out of your dripping wet cunt fill the room along with the lewd noises you’re letting out and isn’t it a fucking scene.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the print of his hand red on your ass cheek and he can’t help himself from smacking it once more. But this time, it’s all too much and your knees lose strength so you’re falling limp on bed, his fingers slipping out of you and you gasp at the loss.

“No!” You cry out but before you can actually start crying this time, his left arm snakes underneath you so he can prop your ass up again and with no time to waste, he’s slipping three fingers inside you again.

This time though, Ross has some mercy on you and he makes up his mind about finally letting you cum. So his thumb skillfully starts rubbing circles on your clit as he continues fucking into you and you’re left clawing at the sheets in pleasure.

Your cheek presses on the mattress as you turn your face to the side to loudly gasp when he curls his fingers and he hits that spot that has you seeing stars, “Fuck, yes, just like that Ross!”

“Like this?” He puts on a naive tone in his voice before he curls his fingers again, and all you’re able to give back is a bunch of pornographic sounds that make him grow impossibly harder in his pants.

You’re panting with your face pressed on the bed, eyes shut tightly as pleasure bathes you, but he asks you to, “Play with your tits for me, love.” and he’s glad to see you’re listening when you do just as he says.

Your fingers are weak from the tight hold you had on the sheets so you’re very soft with the way you try to copy what he was doing on them before.

“Come on, love. You can do better than that.” He says as he purposely goes faster with his actions and you moan loudly at the increase in his pace. Wanting to appease him, you knead harshly on your tits and he hums in approval, “Yes, just like that. Now, pinch your nipples.” He instructs, his mouth going dry when you do it but he’s not feeling you squeezing his fingers with your cunt yet so he knows you’re not being deliberate about it.

“Hard.” He demands and when you do, your eyes tear up at the amount of pleasure running through you. You clench around his fingers tightly and he smiles to himself, “There we go. Don’t stop.” And you nod, entirely willing to do whatever he wants you to.

But you’re not sure you can continue with much intent when his thumb leaves your clit and instead, he brings his mouth to your clit to suck on it harshly again as he continues to relentlessly fuck three fingers in and out of you.

“Oh Ross! Fu– Fuck! Fuckkkk!” You chant as you feel incredibly close to the edge and a tear falls down the corner of your eye when he moans around your clit and the vibration of it is what tips you over.

Your legs shake uncontrollably as you cum, his left arm having to keep you propped up so he can fuck you through it but you’re cumming so hard, you yell his name over and over until you go limp and collapse in bed, completely exhausted.

“Such a good girl.” He praises you, dropping kisses on your back and rubbing circles on your ass cheek to soothe the soreness he left after spanking you that hard.

“Let me turn you around, yeah?” He softly speaks in a whisper in your ear and, in your completely fucked out state, you can only mumble incoherently and nod.

You don’t even register the way he giggles when you groan and call him mean as he turns you around, your ears only stop ringing almost a minute later, which he’s spent kissing all over your flushed skin, you hear him say, “You did so well, babe.”

Your eyes are lost, looking all over his face and a stupid smile tugs at the corners of your lips when you remember how you’ve gotten here.

He smiles back at you, and he leans in closer to your face so he can whisper, “You wanna taste yourself?” as if it was a little secret of yours.

The erotism of the offer makes you perk up and you nod, biting on your bottom lip as his hand dips down to gather your arousal with two fingers by dragging them up your folds.

“Suck.” He tells you once his hand comes up before your mouth and his slick covered fingers are entirely at your disposal.

You part your mouth for him to slip his fingers inside it and you moan around him the second you get a taste of yourself. He continues pushing his long fingers into your mouth until you gag when he hits the back of your throat, your eyes filling up with tears as you look up at him.

“So fucking perfect.” He praises you and he’s about to pull back but you bob your head up and down his digits and he curses under his breath. His fingers slip out of your mouth to cup your jaw, fingers digging on your cheeks as he says, “Fucking come here.” before he smashes your lips together hungrily.

Your head is still a bit gone after that orgasm, but you manage to keep up the pace he sets on the kiss, and you both can’t stop moaning when you taste your arousal on each other’s tongues. Your hands cup his jaw and you’re massively turned on by the mess your wetness has left on his beard.

After everything, you have almost forgotten about how he’s not gotten any relief yet, until his hips buck forwards and press into your sensitive core and you feel him rock hard against you.

Ross swallows a whimper you let out when his hard on presses on your overstimulated clit again but then his hips still for a second when one of your hands comes down between you and you start palming him over his trousers.

A guttural groan rumbles from the depths of his chest when your fingers wrap around his length over the fabric and he really has no self restraint left in him anymore so he starts thrusting up into your hand in search of relief.

You apply more pressure around him with your fingers and he stops kissing you, so he can let moans out against your mouth.

“Shit…” He mutters under his breath, the veins on his neck popping as he continues to buck his hips into your touch, meeting your strokes in the middle.

You hum in approval of his action, pecking his parted lips as you quicken your pace but that’s when he comes back around his senses and he stops moving.

Seeing that he stops, you slow down and a frown starts to show on your face. Thankfully, he looks at you through half lidded eyes and panting, he explains, “If you keep doing that I'm gonna cum in my pants.”

You clench around nothing at the prospect of him cumming inside you, so your hand leaves his cock alone to cup his jaw again and, fluttering your lashes at him, you plead, “Fill me up. Please.”

It’s animalistic, the growl he lets out and you gasp when he’s on your mouth again. Desperation, lust, need, is all you can think of when his lips move roughly against yours, his tongue almost fighting yours from how intent he moves.

And it has you speechless when he pulls back, struggling to catch your breath as he leaves you in bed to go over his bedside table and dig in the drawers for a condom. You tilt your head back to watch him finish undressing himself and your mouth goes dry when seeing the size of him.

Fuck me, is all you can think when you see him in all his glory.

He’s painfully hard, so swollen you can imagine the heaviness of him on your tongue. You almost start drooling thinking about how he might taste like, his tip already waking precum and you swear you would offer him to use your mouth as a mere hole so he can relieve himself after giving you the orgasm he did.

The muscles in his arms flex when he rolls the latex down his length, a groan of his ringing in the room and it travels right down between your legs.

When he’s back in bed, he kneels in front of you so the front of his thighs are flush against the back of yours and from that you were expecting him to take you in missionary but a split second later, you’re gasping when he twists your lower half to the side so one of your legs rests on its side right next to his and your other leg he lifts up when he hooks it on the crook of his arm.

With his left hand, Ross wraps his fingers around himself and brings his cock down to run down your folds, teasing your hole with a faint push of his tip.

“Ross…” You beg without the proper words, and he takes pity on you by dragging himself up again until he gets to your clit and he taps on it with the tip, making you gasp in pleasure.

It feels like ages pass when he keeps doing all of that, a cycle that makes your head dizzy but then he sees you flutter around nothing and he can’t wait anymore to sink himself inside you.

So he aligns himself and slowly, sinks an inch of his inside your cunt. “Fuck me, you’re so tight Y/N/N.” He curses loudly as inch by inch you welcome him but, not even with how wet you are, it’s a struggle to push himself deep inside you.

One of your hands grips tightly at the duvet while the other comes to grab ahold of the arm with which he’s lifting your leg up. He’s stretching you out so good, you’re tearing up again and your jaw goes slack, “Oh Ross!”

“You feel like fucking heaven, love.” His words sound strangled as he pushes the last of himself in and when he bottoms out, he stills. Hips flush against your ass, his pubic hair tickling you when he adjusts his standing on his knees and it earns him a loud whine from you when he moves inside you slightly from that.

You curse and pant, relaxing slowly and when he feels your walls finally accepting his girth and size, he kisses your calf so he can have your attention and get an answer when he asks, “Can I move?”

“Mhm.” You hum as you nod, eyes screwed shut at the feeling of him. But that means you don’t see as he lifts your leg further up until he props it on his shoulder and it’s when he leans into you the slightest bit that your eyes open wide at the angle.

“Ross, fuck! Move, please, move.” You desperately spit out, loudly so he doesn’t have a chance to mishear you.

And he does as you say, slowly dragging himself out of you a few inches before sinking back in. Your toes curl and your grip on the duvet and his arm grows tighter when he gives you a few more slow thrusts, a loud moan ripping out of your throat when he increases his pace a little.

The sounds in the room are lewd but they start getting pornographic when he leans forward further until his left hand comes to rest on the mattress right by your waist and his right hand presses your leg against his chest so it stays propped up on his shoulder.

From this angle, you feel him everywhere and you’re almost sure that if you looked down you could see him poking out into your belly when he pounds particularly harder on you.

“Like you were fucking made for me.” Ross says out into the air as he easily glides in and out of you, your wetness allowing him to increase his speed little by little and you’re gasping and moaning as his hips slam into you.

In between gasps, which he draws out of you with every snap of his hips, you manage to beg, “Don’t stop baby, please.”

“I won’t, I won’t” He promises, there’s not even a hint of stopping this in his mind, not when your walls hug him so perfectly and you clench around him when his pubic bone presses on your clit as he pounds into you.

“Can you take it harder, babe?” He asks sweetly, his lips leaving open mouthed kisses on your calf as if to offer some soothing in comparison to the way he has you folded.

Through half lidded eyes you look up at him, brows furrowed in pleasure, and you chant, “I can, yes, I can.”

The tone in your voice encourages him and he calls you, “Perfect girl.” before he draws almost completely out of you only to slam back inside you harshly.

“Fuckkkkk!!!” You yell, your back arching into him as he fucks you hard. His cock fills you up and stretches you out deliciously but the harshness of every thrusts feels like he’s splitting you open just like you had imagined, and you truly can’t think of anything better happening to you right now.

You're so close to your orgasm, your walls are closing tightly around him and Ross groaning and moaning like a mad man over you at the tightness of your cunt. And at the sight of it all, your skin glistening with sweat, the way your tits bounce as he thrusts into you, your pretty lips wet and parted with a string of spit dribbling down the corner of your mouth. He wants to kiss you so badly right now, but he doesn’t want to hurt you by folding you more than you are right now.

But you’re squeezing his cock so tight, it’s driving him insane.

“M’gonna cum Y/N.” He lets you know with a strangled moan, his fingers clutching onto your leg tightly and you feel him desperately speeding up in chase of his release.

You whine loudly and agree, “Me too, I’m so close.” nails digging in the flesh of his arm, and the hint of pain is what sends him over.

It’s a mess of grunts and moans as he cums, his cock twitching inside you as he spills into the condom and it’s the raw filth of the scene that snaps the coil that had been forming in your lower stomach.

You cum all over his cock, your name being the only cohesive word coming out of your mouth and turning into moans as he continues slamming his hips into you.

You’re too sensitive now but Ross has been holding back for so long, he feels like he hasn’t fully let go yet so he picks up his pace again and fucks fast and hard into your cunt, making you scream his name along with a string of curses.

He wants you milking every single drop out of him so he lets go of your leg, trusting that it’ll stay up on his shoulder and brings his hand down to your heat so he can play with your clit. The fast circles he rubs on it earn him high pitch cries from you but you squeeze his cock impossibly tighter and he growls as he continues to cum.

It’s all so much, and you’re soon feeling a second orgasm looming on you with the speed of the fastest roller coaster you could imagine until you can’t hold onto your sanity any longer and you just let go.

“Ross! Fuck!” Your scream bounces on the walls of the room as you cum, your release so intense you squirt all over his hand, wetting his thighs and drenching the duvet.

“That’s it! That’s it!” He chants as his thrusts falter, his fingers still rapidly flicking at your clit and you give him all that you’ve got.

He feels dizzy when he stops, almost like you’ve sucked even the life out of him with your cunt and he has to take a few deep breaths before he can gather his thoughts. Though his one and only thought right now is “Fuck, Y/N/N, you’re so hot.”

Ross allows you both a few seconds to catch your breaths before he pulls out of you, and you whine at the loss of him. You find your hazy mind managing to conjure the thought that you would do anything to feel him like that again and again and again.

Very carefully, he grabs your leg and brings it down on the bed, and he chuckles softly when you’re just laying there limply like a rag doll. Your skin is flushed and sweaty, and your chest heaves as you collect yourself.

The bassist crawls on the bed and hovers over you to start dropping kisses all over your face, brushing the hair that’s sticking to your skin back and watching the way your eyes flutter shut at the touch with adoration.

“Are you okay, love?” He makes sure to ask you, thumb caressing the apple of your cheek sweetly.

“Mhm.” It’s the only thing you can trust yourself uttering right now, simple and easy to understand unlike the knot of thoughts in your brain at the moment.

“You’re so beautiful.” He says genuinely, drinking in every detail of your face in the state you’re in. You smile softly at him, your eyes struggling to open since you’re so spent.

But you’re not surprised when he adds with a hint of awe in his voice, “Milking me dry and drenching me like that? Such a good girl.”

You giggle at his words, shaking your head in amusement at him. He’s such a boy.

He dips his head to capture your lips in a sweet brief kiss and then he’s pulling back, whispering “I’ll be right back okay?” against your lips.

He waits for you to give him an answer, which is just a simple nod since you’re still trying to gather your wits, and then he’s off the bed walking out of his room.

There aren't any clues about where he’s off to circling your mind, instead you’re trying to get your brain to work again. And of course, the second you find yourself coming back to reality, the first thing that flashes to the forefront of your mind is the image of him relentlessly pounding into you.

His brows furrowed and accentuating the wrinkles on his forehead and by his eyes, his mouth parted and letting his beautiful moans escape, strands of his hair sticking to his sweaty face.

You find yourself heating up head to toe again, and you know right then that you’ll be thinking of him on lonely nights when all you have at your disposal is your vibrator and your fingers to bring you pleasure.

Ross coming back into his room startles you out of your filthy memories of merely a few minutes before. He’s got a rag in hand that you find has been wet with warm water once it makes contact with your sensitive core.

“Sorry.” He says softly when you flinch as he wipes you clean and it makes you smile like an idiot.

You bite your bottom lip and hold your breath when he grazes your clit again so you don’t react badly and once he’s back on your inner thighs, you breathe out, “S’alright. Thank you.”

When he deems his work done, he offers you his hand so he can help you up and you thank him yet again when you’re up on wobbly legs. His hand doesn’t leave yours and instead of just telling you where the bathroom is, he guides you to it, kissing you before you can close the door behind you.

It doesn’t take you that long to do everything you have to do in the bathroom, feeling refreshed when you throw some water on your face and pat it dry. You run your fingers through your hair to try and tame it, you bite your bottom lip thinking about him waiting for you in his room and without more time to waste, you’re out of the bathroom and walking back to him.

The first thing you notice when you’re back in his room is that he’s taken the duvet somewhere else, which you expect to be to the wash since you drenched it as you came the last time.

Ross looks at you expectantly, patting the empty side of the bed while lays on his side with his head propped on the palm of his hand.

You giggle at him, raising a brow as you question him, “What? You like cuddles after sex?”

“I do so come here.” He demands lifting the sheets up for you to get under them and you comply. As soon as you come to rest on the mattress, he snakes his arm around your waist and pulls you in so you’re pressed flush against him, turning you around slightly so you can spoon.

A warmth coats your insides and seeps through your pores, and a hum of bliss manages to slip past your lips against your wishes. You like the contrast in his behavior, you find it so fucking sexy that he can get you to oblige to every one of his words during sex but be a sweetheart afterwards.

You’re relishing in the feeling for a bit, your eyes growing heavy when suddenly you remember where you have to go tomorrow morning—or later in the morning, more like since it’s already past one in the morning.

“I have to be home early by the way.” Your words are soft, more like you’re just letting him know instead of a warning.

You feel the way he cranes his neck up as if to look at you over your shoulder, “You’re gonna try to sneak out on me?”

In all honesty, you’re gutted you even promised your sister you’d go to your parents’ house around eleven in the morning so you could go out for brunch to spend the first day of the year around your family, but he doesn’t have to know you’re kinda considering bailing on your family so you shrug, “I might.”

He groans and pulls you impossibly closer to him, almost like he’s trying to cage you and trap you so you don’t go. And it makes you open your eyes to giggle when he doesn’t budge or say anything for a whole minute so you find yourself reiterating, “I mean it when I say I have plans early tomorrow.”

You’re not sure what you’re expecting him to say, maybe a ‘Alright, I had fun with you, let’s sleep and you can leave whenever you want but I’m gonna stay asleep.’ or ‘Sure, but let me know before you leave so I know you’ve gone and I can lock the door behind you’, anything along those lines.

However, the words coming out of his mouth are sassy and definitive, “Yeah, you can reschedule that.”

And you’re scoffing at the confidence he has at saying that. It’s hot, you think but god, the nerve.

“Bold of you to assume I wanna.” You play with him. You do want to reschedule, though it’s more leaning towards canceling on your family at this point.

“Would it help if I said please?” He bargains efficiently, a sweetness laced around his words that you know it’s just to get you to twist your arm.

Suddenly, he’s no longer pressed on your back. He hovers over you and without much of a warning, traps you in a needy kiss, almost like he’s pleading for you to do what he’s saying.

One of his legs weaves in the middle of yours and with how he’s leaning into you, his thigh presses on your cunt, the friction of his thigh on your overstimulated clit elicits a moan out of you that he takes as a good sign.

So he pulls back, stealing one last peck from your lips to ask, “Can you reschedule whatever tomorrow morning is? Please?” He puts on his best puppy eyes, a pout forming on his lips and it’s so hard trying not to fold instantly.

You force yourself to appear nonchalant, smirking up at him to challenge him, “Keep this up and I might consider it.”

No more words are needed for him to continue, his next strategy being kissing down your neck onto your collarbone. “Greedy,” He starts saying planting another kiss on your collarbone, “Greedy,” He mumbles against your skin but this time pressing a kiss between your breasts, and he moves to the side slowly, tip of his nose and beard tickling you as he moves, “Girl” He finishes his sentence before biting on the top of your right breast making you gasp.

The moment his teeth leave your skin free, his tongue licks over the bite mark he’s left one you and, weakly, you admit, “Maybe I can reschedule.”

“I can work with a maybe.” He mutters smugly, his tongue flicking on your nipple once, his right hand holding your hip tightly.

You shiver beneath him, your eyes closing as he flicks it once more, “Sure you can.” Your words are laced with sarcasm as you try your best to act cool about it but he’s watching you through his lashes and he’s certainly happy with himself for making you crumble like this so easily.

His hold on your hips loosens up and it slowly inches closer to your core, you’re almost shaking in anticipation at the ghostly touch of his fingers over your mound and you barely hear him say, “I can,” just as he dips a finger inside you.

“Fuck…” You moan in response, feeling his fingers inside you again threatening to have you stupid all over again.

He watches the way your face contorts in pleasure with his lips parting agape, his cock twitching at the sight. He drags his finger slowly in and out of you a few times before curling it inside you, smirking when a loud mewl comes from you and your hands come to grip on his shoulders tightly.

“That good?” He’s taunting you and you know it, and you’re expecting him to continue doing just that. It’s no surprise to you that just to push you further into giving into him, he adds a second finger.

“Oh fuck, Ross.” You breathe out, your nails digging into his back, “Feels so good.” You finally answer, one of your hands coming up the back of his neck to grab at his hair and pull on it.

He hums, continuing to patiently fuck you with his fingers and due to how overly sensitive you still are, that familiar knot has started to tighten in your lower stomach.

You’re practically holding him in place, so he doesn’t even think of pulling away just when you’re about to come but this time, Ross thinks about just having fun with your overstimulation and he wonders how fast you’d cum if he wrapped his lips around your nipples at the same time as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you.

The second he catches your nipple in his mouth, your back arches off the bed, goosebumps breaking on your skin as he sucks on it. It’s dizzying when he lets it go to flick on it with the tip of his tongue and then bites on it mercilessly.

“Ross! Fuck!” You don’t think you’ll last much longer if he continues what he’s doing, and he knows it from how you’re squirming beneath him and the way you’re clenching around his fingers.

So he moves onto your other nipple, repeating the process and it’s that, along with his hand picking up its pace that you convulse under him as you cum yet again tonight.

“Yes, Y/N/N. Just like that, babe.” Your ears barely register him saying sweet nothings into your ear as you come down from you high, his fingers slowly riding you out of it.

Until you can’t take it anymore and you’re pushing his hand away from you. Ross hears your silent plea to stop and he slowly drags his fingers out of your cunt. You manage to peel your eyes open just when he’s licking his fingers clean, lapping at every drop of your cum on his hand intently.

“Is it rescheduled now?” He asks you as if you’re not completely fucked out again, and he’s so smug seeing you this way, it makes you want to scream.

Yet he’s got you so stupefied that you don’t even find yourself able to keep playing along with him, instead you pant and nod, “It is. It definitely is.”

That’s all he wanted and he lets you know with the shit eating grin he has on his face, along with the sultry, “Good girl.” he offers you as praise.

He kisses you again, almost like a thank you but the meaning is lost on you when you taste yourself on his tongue. You moan into his mouth, pulling on his hair once again and this time managing to let his hair fall down freely when you tug off the hairband that kept it in its bun.

Of course, Ross complains, with a groan that you ignore being one to call you out for what you’ve done. But then your hands are both lost in his hair, soft and long strands of jet black hair tangled between your fingers and you pull on it harshly like you’d been dying to do all night.

His groans are like music to your ears, but then you realize what’s just happened again and you pull on his hair, only this time is so that you can break the kiss and scorn him, “You’re such a prick, now I gotta go back to the bathroom.”

You’re too lazy to pick yourself up from the warm bed to clean yourself up again and pee, you roll your eyes just thinking about having to do all that when you’re exhausted after all your activities tonight.

Your complaint falls on deaf ears, since he only focuses on what you’ve called him and he warns you, “Call me that again and you’ll see what happens.”

A scoff is the only answer you given him, before you’re pushing him off you—he doesn’t even budge when you do so, you have to whine and ask him to move with a please added by the end for him to let you go—and going to the bathroom to freshen yourself up yet again.

When you come back, you snort seeing the same thing happen as the first time around but this time you just silently go along with his wishes. He holds you tightly against his front with one of his arms around your waist, one of his legs comes to tangle between yours and he presses a bunch of kisses to the back of your neck before nuzzling into it and willing himself to get some sleep.

“I ain’t quite done with you yet.” Ross whispers against your skin, drinking in your scent.

Your eyes are heavy and his limbs over your body come to feel like a weighted blanket that has you more sleep than awake at this point, yet you still manage to let out a bubbly giggle and you whisper back, “Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Definitely a promise, love.” He replies breathily, the hair in the back of your neck rises in goosebumps at the prospect of it all and a tingly feeling starts bubbling in your stomach.

You’re not sure what awaits you when you wake up in the morning, but if it’s anything like what’s happened so far then…

It’s a very Happy New Year to you.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

A/N: I'm not even sure what to say other than I hope you enjoyed lol. Now I'm off to drown myself in a tub full of holy water to cleanse my soul and repent for days on end, I think you lot should do so too. I'm incredibly excited to see your reactions, they are always so great and they make me giggle and kick my feet. Thanks a million for reading as always my darlings, and I hope you have a lovely week! xx

Taglist: @imagine-that-100 @red---moon @drinkurkombucha @vinylandcoffeecollection @better--oblivions @kennedy-brooke @faveficz @indierockgirrl @nikisfwn @hereyeswerefilledwiththestars @toomuchracket @llangelsrolltheireyes06ll @megs5678 @theoriginalwhatsername @findmeincorneliastreet @therossmacdonaldeffect @butyou-callmewhenyourebored

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ilyasorokinn · 11 months

Text

i'm in love with you , ross macdonald

note, this is my first ever thing for ross or ever even broaching this fandom, so please be nice! i'm nice i promise! pair, ross macdonald x reader summary, y/n y/l/n and ross macdonald being in love for 10 minutes straight, or some cute moments in y/n and ross' relationship. warnings, mentions of quarantine, getting a tattoo (nothing graphic) (lmk if i missed anything) word count, 3289 words

(gif not mine)

If people knew Ross MacDonald, they knew you too. You and Ross had been together since the beginning of time, or at least long before the first album came out.

You and Ross were complete opposites which was what made you both so perfect together. Where he was quiet and a little more introverted, you were much more outgoing and extroverted. You were the golden retriever and he was the black cat.

Fans noticed the sweet moment between you, so edits were made, and of course video compilations.

Ross MacDonald and Y/N Y/L/N being in love for 10-minutes straight

The first clip was one fans knew very well. It was originally posted on Matty's Instagram and then later reposted on every 1975 fan account known to man.

You usually went to the first couple of shows with them, but due to scheduling conflicts, you couldn't make it to the first couple of shows like you normally would for the "At Their Very Best" tour.

Unbeknownst to Ross s, your schedule cleared up so you worked with the band to surprise him.

The video started and the first shot was of Ross' back as he and Matty walked down the hotel hallway toward Ross' room. The camera flipped quickly back to Matty who gave the camera an exasperated face as Ross continued to drone on about something.

"Ross, just open the door," Matty begged.

Ross raised a brow but opened the door and was greeted to balloons all over the ground before you popped up from behind the bed, "Surprise!" You shouted.

Ross stared at you trying to decipher if you were real and if you were actually there. "What?" Was all Ross said before he dropped his stuff on the ground and tackled you onto the bed and hugged you.

The short video ended right as you pulled away from the hug to cup his face and pull him in for a kiss.

The next clip was taken by a fan. It was a little grainy and the fan's hands were shaking but Ross was clearly in the shot and he could be seen looking up to the higher level of the theater up to someone.

The camera then panned up and when the camera focused, you were the person Ross was talking to from the stage. Matty was talking on stage and Ross was trying to be as inconspicuous as he could as to not draw attention up to you but it wasn't working.

You waved and he waved back discreetly. You drew a heart and blew him a kiss, laughing when he looked away, seemingly embarrassed.

"Y/N!" Matty shouted into the mic, making the crowd go wild when they realized you were there, "Stop distracting Ross!" He looked up at you on the balcony as everyone laughed.

"Sorry!" You shouted back with a laugh, waving to the crowd and blowing them a big kiss.

Something the band did before they went on stage showed what they were doing behind the scenes, leading up to them walking on stage.

So, fans went wild when everyone first showed up on the big screen, all in the green room, getting ready to head on stage. The camera panned around the room and you could feel the walls vibrate when the camera panned over to Matty.

You were listening to whatever Matty was talking about while also tying Ross' tie. You took a step back and looked at him, "Good?"

"Good." You gave him two thumbs up. You were both unaware of the camera filming you, both too stuck in your own little world. You reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck and smiled, leaning into his neck.

He hummed, wrapping his arms around your waist, "I'll see you out there." He pulled away, a smile on his face.

"Yeah, and if you don't, it's cause I'm getting funnel cake." You joked and he laughed, "I saw a funnel cake stand when we were walking around."

"You gonna save me some?" You nodded, "All right, I'll see you after."

"See you after." You both met halfway and kissed, "Be awesome rockstar." You pulled away and cupped his face.

No one could tell what either of you was saying, but they could tell that it was filled with love and that you both were in love. You pressed a kiss to his lips quickly before stepping away and waving.

The clip then switched over to a picture of you and Ross that you had posted. It wasn't anything special, just a sweet photo of you and Ross after an award show, looking nice and dressed up. Your arm was looped through his as you both smiled sweetly for the camera.

The photo was just something to look at while audio from a podcast you had done played in the background.

"I'm curious, and I know a lot of other people are curious too, what is it like dating a musician who is as high profile as Ross?" The host, Katya, asked.

You nodded, "It's a question I get asked often." You smiled, "But I never mind answering it and I'll answer it as honestly as I can. I don't know anything else."

"Really?" The other host, Lily asked.

"Yeah, he's my first serious boyfriend, and we've been together since, like, 2011, like a year before their first album went public. I had like middle school and high school boyfriends, but it was never as serious as it is with Ross."

"That's crazy," Lily commented.

"I know, it is. But, it really is the only thing I know. The long breaks, the tours, the getting recognized every so often." You shrugged, "But the one thing that I never take for granted is because we do long distance for such a long period of time, it just makes us cherish the time we do get to spend together."

"That's so sweet." You blushed as they both cooed.

"So, having been there since the beginning of the release process, what was that like?"

"Crazy, after Sex came out, everything went so quickly and I barely had time to comprehend. Then their first album came out and I felt like a chicken without a head for a good year after." They both laughed.

"So, they really went from being not famous and working normal jobs to almost the entire country knowing their names and their songs."

"Yeah, and it was a little scary at first, not gonna lie." You all shared a laugh, "But seeing how far they've all come, I'm proud, really. I feel like a proud mom."

"So, do you have a favorite song?" They both laughed when you gasped.

"You're trying to get me in trouble." You shook your head, "Um, not really I love them all equally."

"But off the record?"

"Off the record..." You blew out a breath, "Chocolate."

"Chocolate." You nodded.

"Good choice." Katya reached across the table and gave you a high five.

The next clip was a series of photos taken by the paparazzi. You didn't get paps taking pictures of you often, but when you did, it was usually you two together, and it was something sweet.

The first photo is of one of you two caught at dinner, sitting together. It's a real cliche. You were sitting across from each other with a candle in front of you, holdings hands from across the table and looking at each other like the other hung the moon.

The next was one that floated around Twitter for a while. It was a photo taken outside of a bar where the band was throwing an after-party after one of their shows, and you were in the middle of hopping bars when the photo was taken.

You were all waiting for Matty as you stood outside. You were wearing a tank top and had left your jacket in the car and it was cold, so Ross, being the good boyfriend, stood close to you and wrapped his jacket around you and managed to keep you warm.

The last in the dump was one even you posted. It was you and Ross at the airport. George was seen in the back, but the main focus was you and Ross.

You were walking beside him, on the opposite side of where all the cameras were. You both had sunglasses on to cover the bags from jet lag. You were carrying a small bag while Ross carried a backpack and dragged along two suitcases and if fans looked close enough, they would be able to read the luggage tags with your name on them.

The next clip was taken by a fan, again. The fan was waiting in line at a meet and greet the band was doing. The group in front of her moved and the fan who was filming walked up, handing her phone to the other person she was with.

The first person at the table was Matty. She got her CD and vinyl signed before making it to the end where Ross was, "Hi." She smiled nervously.

"Hello." He smiled, grabbing the sharpie and signing her items. As he signed her items, she pulled out a bracelet from her bag. It was a little bracelet she had made for you with your initials and a heart with cute colored beads.

He looked up from the signing when he was done, "What's that?" He asked, a smile on his face.

"I made a bracelet for Y/N." The girl answered, a smile on her face when Ross laughed.

"Did you? Oh, my." He gasped when she handed it to him, "Oh, she's gonna love it. She loves little bracelets, especially when it's homemade."

"That makes me happy." She beamed.

"Would you like a picture?"

The next photo that flashed on the screen was from your story and it was a photo of you smiling while wearing the little bracelet the fan had made you.

The caption read 'Thank you to the fan who made this for me! I love it so much and love you all!'

The photo then transitioned into a video taken by one of the cameramen who works at the concerts. it was a clip that went viral in the world of The 1975.

About You was a popular song on the album and it had gone viral so most fans knew it. Most of the time, on tour, Polly sang it, Carly sang it, and while you weren't a member of the band, you could sing.

Occasionally Ross would come home and tell you about a song they were working on and you would give your input and he would take it back to the band, so you were an unofficial member of the band.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please help me welcome a very special friend to us all, in her first live performance ever, Mrs. Ross Macdonald herself," At that, the crowd went wild, "Miss Y/N Y/L/N!" You walked out onto the stage, waving to the crowd before hugging Matty and Adam.

You waved to the band, blew Polly a kiss, then met Ross halfway across the stage. You hugged and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before waving to the crowd again.

"You ready, Y/N?"

"So ready." You nodded, giving him a thumbs up. The music started. and you felt every nerve in your body go off. Ross kept glancing back at you, and when he finally caught your eye, he smiled.

You smiled back and took a deep breath. You closed your eyes as you sang the bridge, almost in your own world, "And there's something about you..."

Another video from a fan from a different angle was added. It was first on you, then moved across the stage over to Ross who was watching you, a smile on his face and what could only be described as the look of love on his face.

"...I never know what to think about." You opened your eyes and everyone went insane. You then became aware of just how many phones and cameras were pointed at you and smiled shyly.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Y/N Y/L/N!" Matty shouted into the microphone, making the crowd again go wild. You waved before blowing air kisses to the crowd and hugging Ross again.

"How was that?" You asked nervously.

"So good." He kissed your forehead briefly before pulling away and hugging Matty and Adam. Before leaving the stage, you blew more air kisses to George, Polly, and the band on the set's second floor.

"She's so great, isn't she?" Matty spoke into the microphone once you were off stage, and you could hear the crowd from backstage in response to his question.

The next clip was a photo and video you had posted on your Instagram. It was no secret that Ross was covered in tattoos, so after you and Ross were sure and discussed it, you decided to get matching tattoos.

It wasn't anything drastic or anything too flashy, but it was something simple you had decided on. It was just each of your initials and they were in each of your handwriting, so you wrote the first letter of his name and vice versa.

The photo was you standing side by side, your hands in the frame so it showed the initials tattooed on your hands. It was small and not really noticeable unless you really looked for it.

The photo then transitioned into a video of you and Ross getting your tattoos. You were sitting in chairs next to each other. His hand was in your lap and it was clear with the way you weren't talking and the look, you were nervous. Ross knew this, so he did his best to comfort you from the chair next to you.

"Did you know flamingos sleep standing up?" Ross asked, trying anything to keep you calm.

"Yeah." You nodded.

"Did you know that giraffe's tongues are pink?"

"Ross Macdonald, I love you, but you are stressing me out." You glared at him.

"All right, I tried." He raised his hands in surrender, "You still doing good though?" He asked.

"I'm good." You reassured, "Can we turn on some music or something?"

The comments were crazy after you posted it. They all found it cute that Ross was trying to comfort you with random animal facts and found it cute that you were getting matching tattoos of your initials.

The next was a series of videos taken by fans from the same show. You were outside in the front of the building they were performing, a big bouquet of flowers in your hands.

You were smiling and waving to fans, "Hi, oh, my goodness." You gasped, “It’s so nice to see all of you.” You stopped by the barricade of the fans and took some pictures.

A fan handed you a sharpie and you started signing things that they held out. It wasn’t anything you were used to, so it was cool.

“Wow, this is new.” You laughed, “I’ve never had people ask for my autograph.” The group of fans whose items you were signing laughed.

"Are those for Ross?" The girl next to the fan who was filming asked.

"Yeah." You admitted, and they all gasped then all cooed about how cute it was, "Most of the time, the flowers in our home are for him, not that he never gets me them, but I like getting them for him whenever I can. It's a nice surprise." You shrugged, signing your name on someone's CD cover.

"Do you listen to The 1975?" Someone shouted as security led you inside the theater.

"Of course! They're my top artist every year on Spotify!" You laughed.

During quarantine, you were locked in your house obviously, so, while locked in your home, a cat had found its way into your backyard and had taken habitat in your flower patch in the sun.

You documented the whole process of you finding it, watching it from your kitchen window, then finally taking it in.

The first photo you posted on your story was a picture you had taken from your kitchen window of the cat, who at that point was nameless. The cat was laying in your flower patch in the sun.

The caption you had put on the photo was, "My flowers may be destroyed, but we have a new friend!"

The next video from your Instagram cat story was a video of Ross walking out into your garden, in his pajamas. You both approached the cat who was now standing by a tree in your backyard.

"Here, kitty." Ross cooed softly as he approached the cat with treats in hand. You stood back a distance, filming him as the cat hissed at him, "Geez!" Ross quickly retracted his hat as the cat practically pounced toward him.

"Be careful." You called out.

"Gee, thanks." He rolled his eyes. He held his hand out carefully with the food in it. The cat looked at it before approaching him and sniffing the food.

The cat then started eating the food out of his hand and once it was all gone, looked at Ross expediently, "Well, I guess that's a good sign." Ross turned around and headed towards the house.

The cat hopped off the ledge and followed him, "Ross..." You called out in awe that the cat was following him. He turned around and saw the cat trotting along behind him.

"I guess this is a very good sign." He shrugged, opening the door to your home and letting the cat enter before he followed.

The next photo was a photo of the cat snugging in Ross' arms with the caption, "Meet Biscuit!"

The last photo of your saga was a photo of Biscuit asleep on Ross' chest, who was also asleep, on the couch with the caption "Just a boy and his father".

A fan account had posted the photos you had posted of Ross and Biscuit and photos Ross had posted of you and Biscuit with the caption, "mom and dad are officially a mom and dad".

The last video you and Ross had posted together on your Instagrams. It was only a matter of time before you got married, and when you posted your engagement photos, the fans went wild.

It was a professional-looking wedding video. It started out with you and Ross standing in your hotel rooms, getting ready. The wedding, from what fans, could tell, was small with only your close friends and family.

A soft instrumental version of Robbers played in the background as you and Ross got ready. Your dress was zipped up while he straightened out his tie.

Then you were seen walking down towards a garden towards Ross, who was standing with his back to you, and it was clear at that moment, it was a video of your first look.

You smoothed out the front of your dress before taking a breath and reaching up to tap on his shoulder. He turned around and gasped, covering his mouth in shock.

After he got over the initial shock, he immediately wrapped you in a hug as he tried to sort out his thoughts. Nothing you were saying could be heard, but 'You look fucking amazing.' could be read falling from his lips.

The rest of the video was shots of you and Ross looking more in love than anyone could've thought, but the last shot of the video was a pan out from your seats at the reception.

You were sitting side by side, watching your guests on the dance floor with your head on his shoulder and his suit jacket around your shoulders.

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abiiors · 1 year

Text

Marital Bliss

combining a whole bunch of requests in this. enjoy :)

minors dni!!! smut, fluff, female reader, general geographical ineptitude, etc

wc: 4.4k

The feeling of a ring around your finger is nothing new to you.

But Ross, lying half-naked beside you in bed, stares at his hand like it’s a thing of wonder. It’s a beautiful Tuscan morning, the sunlight streams in through the open windows, a faint smell of apricots and peaches floats in with the gentle breeze. And your husband’s arms are warm around you.

You trace a finger along his hand, right where the ring now sits and look at where its twin rests on your finger. Husband. Finally, your husband.

‘Good morning, wife,’ he mumbles into your shoulder, smiling, grinning ear to ear. This is how he has woken you up every single day for the last week. One whole week of pure bliss being married to your favourite person in the world.

‘Good morning, husband,’ you smile back. It’s cheesy, it’s sickeningly sweet but neither of you seems to care. Especially not when he looks at you like you hung the moon and kisses your knuckles right above the ring.

The day in front of you is exciting. You have been dying to just explore the Italian countryside with him, walking down cobblestone streets, holding hands as you point at random things you find exciting. His thoughts have been drifting, however.

Ross has not been able to focus ever since he came out the shower and saw you dressed and ready for the day. It’s a dress he bought for you on a whim, white with a plunging neckline. There’s a lace bow that sits right between your breasts and it makes him think of all the ways he could unwrap the dress off you, unravel it so he could finally claim you as his gift. Every time you bend or stretch, he sees a flash of your soft, creamy thighs and there’s only so much he can do to stop himself from dragging you back to bed and burying his head between them.

‘Ready, darling?’ he asks, voice husky and slightly out of breath, once he’s done putting on his clothes.

You hum softly from your place in front of the mirror. Almost ready, just putting some lip gloss on before you spritz on your favourite perfume. It’s jasmine with a hint of spice, perfect for when spring starts to blend into summer. The second he breathes it in, the scent goes straight into his bloodstream, sending all his neurons into a frenzy as his blood rushes south.

Maybe the thought of seducing you back to bed is not so farfetched after all…

‘I’m so excited for the day,’ you squeal, shutting the tube of lip gloss and turning to look at him. His heart skips a beat in his chest unable to contain the rush of happiness he feels at your excitement. And he gladly takes your hand in his when you extend it.

—

The streets of Florence are bustling with tourists.

You and Ross could easily get lost in the flow, laughing and joking with each other, lost in your own little bubble. The day has quickly turned warm and you can’t keep your eyes off him as beads of sweat run down his throat and disappear into the v of his shirt. Couldn’t keep your eyes off him when let go of your hand to roll his sleeves up to his forearms.

‘What’s on your mind?’ he asks as soon as he notices you staring.

You bite your lip, unable to keep the rosy flush off your face at being caught so red-handed. You are allowed to have filthy thoughts about your husband, that’s what the rational part of your brain says. But sometimes when you look at him, you can’t help but feel like a shy twenty-something-year-old that met him for the first time; how intimidating and hot he was back then, how utterly sexy he still is.

Ross notices that too and leans down to press a soft kiss on your cheek. ‘Go on, love. What’s on your mind?’

His voice so close to your ear sends a shiver of pleasure through your whole body. Heat courses everywhere and the dress suddenly feels tight and uncomfortable. ‘It’s really hot,’ you almost gasp out.

Everything feels heightened; the way his hand rests on the small of your back, fingers rubbing circles on your waist. Same fingers that ran along your most sensitive parts the night before, the same fingers that pumped in and out of you making you moan and cry out loud with each thrust.

Ross can read you like an open book, can practically see every thought, every image that flashes in your head. He’s not a stranger to this look on your face; pupils dilated, lips parted as you stare at him with such open want. So insatiable when it comes to him, always hungry for more. And he’s right there with you, has been practically all day.

‘Let’s cool you down then,’ he says and pulls your flush against his chest. He’s very much enjoying the way your eyes go wide. You are right in the middle of a busy street after all but he couldn’t care less. Especially not when he can feel your hardened nipples through the dress.

He leans down, placing one big hand around your waist to keep you in place as he tilts your face up with the other. ‘There’s an ice cream place right around the corner.’

He relishes the way your breath hitches and gets caught in your throat when he leans down, captures your bottom lip between his teeth and subtly thrusts his hips into yours. Just making you aware of what's on the table. You say the word and he’d willingly throw you over his shoulder and run back to your cottage.

A strangled moan escapes your throat, something that sounds like a yes and it almost makes him come undone right there. But he doesn’t want to be the selfish one. He knows how excited you are to explore Florence with him and he feels a bit like an animal for being unable to control himself around you.

It’s a herculean task to untangle himself from you, especially when you look at him through your eyelashes. Especially when he simultaneously wants to drag you into a secluded alley and hitch your thigh around his middle but also take you back and have his time with you.

‘Ice cream sounds nice,’ you reply after what feels like an eternity take a hold of his hand again.

The bell jingles when you step through, relishing in the coolness of the place. Excited Italian chatter floats all around you, sometimes interspersed with a familiar word or two but what really matters is the sight of your husband’s back and the shirt that sticks to it. You can clearly see the outline of the muscles as he takes his wallet out and pays for two gelatos

One pistachio. One strawberry.

‘For you,’ he hands you one of the cones and slings an arm around your shoulder to steer you towards an empty table.

Your fingers come up to intertwine with each other as soon as he sits down next to you. ‘This is so good,’ you sigh in delight, enjoying the way the ice cream cools you down at least a little.

He agrees, taking a small lick of his own cone. Sweetness lingers on your tongue as you watch him close his eyes at the taste. The gelato really is amazing but nothing is better than watching him as he goes in for another taste. This time, he makes sure to look directly at you before resting his tongue flat against the scoop and licking it broadly.

Aptly, the ice cream on your cone melts a little and trickles down onto your hand. Your insides feel quite the same as different thoughts start making their way to the forefront of your mind. How would his cold tongue feel against you? Licking and sucking just as he is right now with the ice cream. And every time he catches you looking, he smirks knowingly and continues putting on his little show.

He’s been enjoying your reactions to him. He feels himself harden a bit more every time your gaze dips to his mouth. Every time you subconsciously rub your thighs together, he wishes he could slide his hand in between and run his fingers through your wetness. It’s only when he sees how a bit of the melting ice cream rests on the corner of your lips, that his mind goes into a frenzy.

‘Look at me,’ he speaks in a low, commanding tone. He leans down again, tongue sliding over the corner of your lips where he licks away the ice cream. It’s sweet mixed with the taste of your lipgloss.

You whimper in response and for a crazy moment, he wonders if he can bend you down here on the table and fuck you till you can’t walk straight, till his cum is running down your thighs for everyone to see, till he ruins your pretty little cunt so he can then spend hours on his knees making you feel better.

‘We can go around and do everything on your itinerary for the day,’ he whispers and looks at you to gauge your reaction.

‘Or?’

‘Or…’ he breathes, mouth moving to your neck, ‘we could go back.’

‘Ross…’ you almost moan his name right in the middle of the shop. There’s no debate here. ‘Let’s go.’

—

Your breath leaves you in a whoosh as soon as your back hits the wall. A few tendrils of his hair escape his bun, landing wildly in front of his eyes. He’s almost scared of how desperately he wants you, of all the depraved things he wants to do to you. Whoever thought that after years of being together, things would settle into a domestic lull between you was dead wrong.

‘Fuck, baby, you’re so perfect,’ he speaks in a hushed voice as he continues feverishly kissing down your neck; right down to the middle of your breasts where the bow has been driving him crazy all day.

You giggle slightly, he imagines his beard must be ticklish but the sound is like music to his ears. ‘Show me,’ you speak, hands fisting his shirt tightly as you throw your head back, ‘show me how much you want me.’

And there’s nothing more he wants to do than show you just how much he wants to be inside you, hearing his name spilling out of your pretty little mouth. He’s so painfully hard now, grinding his hips into yours for any kind of friction. ‘You drive me so crazy, god, I’m never going to get enough of you, am I?’

His hands come to rest under your thighs as his mouth moves feverishly against yours, swallowing every whimper, every moan you make. You wrap your legs around his middle, begging to be carried to the bed so he can throw you on it and have his way. His mind flips through all the things he wants to do, how he wants to fuck you till you scream and cry and then gently make love to you till you’re gasping out his name and clenching around his cock.

Your head bounces slightly as soon as he throws you on the bed and climbs on top of you. His gorgeous wife, already writhing under him and begging for his touch.

‘Spread your legs for me, love,’ he moves lower, hands massaging and grabbing at your breasts, ‘nice and wide.’

The thin straps of your dress have already slid down your shoulders, exposing your hard nipples. His fingers are instantly on them, squeezing, alternating between hard flicks and soft fondling while his mouth works on your hips. Your dress is not entirely off, no. It just lies bunched up somewhere around your middle as he hooks a finger in the lace of your panties.

‘Please, please Ross…’ you moan, almost screaming his name, ‘want your tongue, want your mouth on me.’

He’s been dreaming about this all day. So now he can’t control the urge to palm himself as you beg and moan under him. For a moment he simply kneels between your legs and commits the sight in front of him to memory. You with your legs spread wide open, white lace panties already soaked through. Your dress bunched around your waist, back almost arching off the bed as you eagerly wait for his touch, as you touch your nipples for any stimulation. Your hair wild and fanned on the pillow, cheeks pink and mouth red from all the kissing.

And then he grips your thighs and yanks you towards him in one swift motion.

He wants to take his own sweet time to peel the lace off you with his teeth but he feels like a man starved. His patience has been wearing thin all day and now if he doesn’t taste you on his tongue, he might just die.

‘Keep your eyes open, baby,’ he lowers his mouth on you, slides your underwear off you with no difficulty, ‘want you to watch what you do to me. Want you to see me on my knees for you.’

It’s only when he makes sure that you are leaning on your elbows, watching him just as he asked you to, does he flatten his tongue against your core and lick a broad strip. What he’s rewarded with is a strangled cry, a mewl, his name choked out in a broken gasp. His head spins at the taste of you; no matter how many times he’s had it, he simply cannot get enough.

‘You look so hot between my legs,’ you gasp as he licks again, ‘so perfect.’

The words fuel him to almost an insane level. He’s so attuned to all your little whimpers and gasps, all the way you move and tremble under him but this, you being so bold, this is a rarity. And the way you taste on his tongue is heavenly. Each time he sucks on your swollen clit, your hands tug on his hair, a sting of pain runs through him; pain that seamlessly blends into pleasure when you squeeze your thighs around his head.

‘Faster, please—FUCK!’

And so he increases his pace, licking and grazing his teeth occasionally. Every time he feels you come closer to the edge, he moves to your inner thighs, leaving little hickeys on the sensitive, soft skin. His hands wrapped around your thighs completely, clutching so tightly that he knows there would be finger-shaped marks tomorrow and all he can hear are your cries that reverberate through him and go straight to his cock.

‘Right there, YES,’ you scream again, voice hoarse and breathy and he knows you’re close. The pressure on his head increases as you clench your thighs tighter.

Your back arches off the bed almost completely, no longer able to keep your eyes open as you get lost in the feeling of his mouth, of his touch. Without warning, he adds a finger, plunges it right in and the coil tightening within you almost snaps, almost. But not yet. Not until he tells you to. So you let him pump his finger inside you twice, thrice while his tongue works on your clit mercilessly.

‘Come on, baby,’ he coaxes, ‘come on let me taste you. Be a good girl for me.’

Be a good girl for him. There’s no time for you to say his name as your legs spasm. His hands hold you in place, his mouth constantly on you as you feel yourself fall off the edge and down, down, down. Waves after waves of pleasure crashing on you and his mouth still going as he licks every last drop.

There’s no way he’s done with you just yet, not when he moves to sit back up and looks at you with blown-out eyes. His hands move, slipping out of you quickly so he can bring them to your mouth.

‘Taste yourself,’ he commands, ‘look how good you taste.’

It’s an effort to keep your eyes open and look at him, especially when you still feel dizzy from that orgasm but you open your mouth obediently and let him put his fingers in. You swirl your tongue around them, sucking your slick off them with a depraved fervour. He looks like he’s about to lose his mind as he groans each time he feels your tongue.

‘Get them nice and wet for me, good girl,’ he speaks as his other hand takes a hold of your waist. You know what's about to happen. You want him so badly, bad enough to choke on his fingers as you try to speak. ‘You can take more, can’t you? Can take more of me?’ he asks, coaxes almost. It’s so clear that he wants more, wants to keep going so how could you say no?

Ross regards you carefully, analysing each reaction to make sure you’re okay to keep going, that you want more. But then you thrust your hips up in the air, begging silently and all his resolve crumbles down to nothing. His shirt comes off; all he wants now is to feel your legs against his back and he gets between your thighs again.

His fingers rub against your fold. He groans as he feels the wetness there, ready for him once again. And he slips in effortlessly, moaning at how tight you feel just around his finger, dreaming about you clenching around his dick.

Between roaming around the city and this, the day has almost come to an end on you. The light outside has turned orange, casting your skin in pretty colours and bringing out the highlights of your hair. The lust clouding his gaze clears for just a moment as he watches the sun turn your eyes into pools of gold.

‘My beautiful darling,’ he whispers to himself, ‘my beautiful girl.’

His fingers pumps in and out, slowly building up momentum as he watches the way your face transforms. ‘Can i add another finger, love? One more, just wanna make you feel good.’

You nod immediately, fingers fisting the sheets and toes curling in pleasure as he aligns his middle and ring fingers against your entrance. This, he finds especially hot; he loves how his glinting, platinum band instantly gets covered in your wetness. Wet sounds erupt as he moves in and out, lowers his mouth to your abdomen. There’s very little skin left that’s not some shade of red, very little skin that’s still unclaimed. Still, he finds more areas to mark up so next time when he fucks you, they will be right there staring at him.

He groans as the thoughts come; he’s not even done with you now and he’s already thinking of the next time. His mouth moves lower, dying for a taste once again as your walls clench tightly around his fingers. You’re close, he knows you’re close.

‘I want to cum,’ you beg, almost cry out when he hooks his fingers inside you, ‘please, can i cum?’

‘How can i deny you anything, baby?’ he asks hopelessly. And in that moment he knows it’s true. You could ask him to lay down his life in front of you and he would do it. ‘Taking me so well, so perfect.’

‘Yes, yes…’ you moan once again and he feels the second orgasm hit; feels the way your body goes limp for a moment.

You’re way past caring about all the mortifying noises you’ve been making for the past…whatever amount of time has passed. You’re not even sure at this point. You’re not sure if it’s still the same day or if you’ve fucked throughout the night and into the next day. Through your haze you watch him move once again.

His mouth hovers just above yours, his hands on both sides of your head. Even after two rounds, when his hips press into yours, when he grinds his erection into your sensitive flesh, you can’t help the heat that pools between your legs. The material of his jeans is chaffing, and you desperately need them off him, need him to be inside you.

His fingers, his mouth, they are all things you adore but it’s him inside you, locked together; that’s the feeling that nothing else compares to.

‘You still want me, huh?’ he teases lightly but it’s got an edge to it now. Of course it does, he’s waited long enough. He’s put your pleasure before his like he always does.

So you grab his face in your hands, looking him in the eyes. His big, beautiful eyes that fill with love every time he looks at you. ‘I will always want you,’ you tell him, ‘in every lifetime.’

Your fingers intertwine as his lips move to capture yours. You can taste yourself on his tongue, salty and somehow mixed with the taste of the strawberry gelato. You quickly begin tugging at his jeans, get the zipper off as fast as you can and run your hands along his erection as soon as his jeans, his boxers are off.

Ross groans, a true guttural sound as he drowns in the feeling of your hands on him. ‘Need to be in you now, love…’ he whispers, almost slurs his words, ‘can I? Please?’

In response, you wrap your hands around his base and give him a few pumps. Beads of precum bubble up from his tip; he’s ready, he’s more than ready and so are you. When he moans and struggles to hold himself upright, you line him up with your entrance and rock your hips against him, eliciting the filthiest sounds out of him.

The bed is soft beneath you and his body hard on top of you. Outside, the breeze picks up, the smell of peaches and apricots permeating the room once again, mixing with his woodsy cologne, his sweat. And no matter how many times you’ve done this, your entire body zings with electricity when he slides in.

Slow and torturous and deliciously thick, stretching you out and filling you in just how you’ve been dreaming about all day. His chest glistens with sweat, the chain around his neck, warm and heavy, rests in the hollow of your throat.

You feel yourself clench around him as he thrusts in further and further. You don’t know how you still have it in you to be as turned on as you are right now. He has already made you cum twice but the prospect of cumming a third time with him inside you is too enticing.

‘So good,’ he moans in your ear, ‘you feel so fucking amazing, darling.’

The room is full of wet, squelching sounds; filthy, disgusting sounds that turn you on further, make the room spin around you. Flesh slaps against flesh as his hips slam into yours. ‘Want you to be on top, baby,’ he speaks suddenly, begging almost, ‘want you to fuck me.’ And you’re nodding before he’s even done speaking.

You have little time to marvel at how his muscles shift on top of you before he flips you over and on top of him. Still locked together, still inside you. The top of your dress falls away further, as the skirt of it pools around you on his pelvis. His hands are instantly there, balling up the dress and holding it around your waist so he can watch you making love to him. So he can watch the ecstasy on your face as he hits deeper than before.

His hands on your hips tighten as he thrusts upward, matching your pace, pumping into you faster and faster, bouncing you up and down on his cock. ‘Just like that baby,’ he encourages, ‘go faster.’

You dig your nails into your thighs to keep them from trembling, not that it helps much. As you inch towards another orgasm, you can feel your control on your body slipping. Your limbs seem to have a mind of their own as you keep moving, sliding up and down, screaming as his tip hits the sweet spot every time.

Praises spill from his mouth as his movements lose their rhythm. You can already feel your hold on yourself slipping, sliding away from reality as you feel yourself shudder and scream his name. His movements continue through your orgasm, thrusting in and out, brushing against your sensitive clit.

You whine out his name. Too much, it’s almost too much until you feel his hips stutter as he shoots warm ropes of his own release inside you. Thick spurts coating your walls as you feel his legs spasm but his hold on your hips never loosens, never shifts. Not even as you slump forward, tired and spent and lay on his chest.

Both of you pant heavily, bodies still intertwined as you fight to keep your eyes open.

‘Aw, darling, did I wear you out?’ he coos in your hair, kissing the top of your head. There’s an undercurrent of smugness there but you’re too far gone to point it out now. Almost being lulled to sleep by his racing heartbeat.

You mumble something unintelligent in response and he laughs deeply, the sounds reverberating through you, making you gasp as he slips out of you.

‘Let me clean you up, okay? You don’t have to move at all. Don’t have to do anything.’

‘Mm-hmm,’ you smile and nod into his chest.

There’s some movement as he settles on the bed and walks away into the bathroom. A few minutes later, you feel a cool, damp cloth against the inside of your thighs and you hum softly at how amazing it feels. To just be taken care of while you lay there, satiated and fucked out.

‘I love you,’ you speak softly into the pillow and hope he heard you.

Moments later, you feel him lay down next to you and pull you onto his chest. His heartbeat is now a slow, constant rhythm; something that you could recognise by sound alone, something that is more familiar to you than your own.

‘You are the best thing to happen to me,’ he whispers, voice full of love and awe, ‘I can’t even begin to tell you how lucky I am.’

But he doesn’t have to. You’re already sound asleep in his arms with a content smile on your face.

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