#ross x reader
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secret admirer (dad!ross x reader fluff)
day 1 of valentine's week by bff @abiiors!! in this one... the kids want to know how you and ross got together. cute as shit. enjoy <3
it's at dinnertime when you're first asked the question.
ross is quietly coaxing keir to finish his peas, to minimal success. eilidh swallows a mouthful of gravy-soaked mash and turns to look at you curiously. “mummy… how did you and dad meet?”
“you already know, bean,” you take a sip of your wine and smile at her. “met dad and your uncles when i helped design the stage for one of their first shows.”
ross takes a break from lecturing your son about the merits of eating your five-a-day to look at you and wink. there's a warmth in those dark eyes of his - the same one that got you hooked on him in the first place, actually - and you know he's thinking about that fateful first meeting too. “yeah, when i had to save mum, eilidh,” he chuckles. “from matty talking about his vision at a hundred miles an hour. her eyes were proper glazed over and everything, you know.”
“they still go like that when he talks to you now sometimes, mummy,” keir adds, still pushing peas around his plate. his dad and sister laugh, while your jaw falls open at the fact you've been clocked by your four year old.
he's not wrong, though.
eilidh's giggles fade into soft hums. “but how did you end up being boyfriend and girlfriend?”
ross’s eyes meet yours again. he smirks, taking a sip of his own wine. “d'you want to tell the story, love?” he asks, foot sliding up your leg under the table, flirty. “or shall i tell them how i swept you off your feet?”
“oh, is that what it was?” you tease, trapping his leg between your own.
“of course.”
you laugh. “you and i remember it differently, then. but alright,” you stretch, shuffling in your seat before looking at your kids’ anticipated little faces. “here's what happened…”
2013
“should we do something different for valentine's day?”
you turn to look incredulously at matty, exhaling your cigarette smoke. “is further context required there, or are you asking me out? because absolutely not, if so.”
“oh, charming. thank god i see you as a little sister and no more,” matty winces, taking a drag of his own cigarette before he speaks again. “i mean for the show on the 14th. we could do, like, pink lighting instead of white, or something.”
you hum. “i don't hate the idea. but i think sticking with the black and white thing is maybe a good idea for now. cohesion, recognition, establishing identity as you gear up to release the album, all that jazz, yeah?”
“good point.”
“i do like the pink, though. maybe we could do something with it in the future?”
“yeah. i'll keep it in mind. usual staging it is, then,” matty turns to face you, resting a shoulder on the brick wall. “so, given that you've theoretically rejected me…
you roll your eyes.
“... who are you seeing on valentine's day?”
“nobody. we've got a gig, remember?” you ash your cigarette glumly. “i'll be selling t-shirts with your face on them up the back of the venue all night.”
“and i love you - platonically - for that,” your friend grins. “but what about after the show?”
“after?”
“yeah.”
you ponder. “probably just going home to shower off the residual weed smell i'll inevitably take on, to be honest.”
matty laughs; his face drops when he realises you're not kidding. “oh. you're serious.”
“mhmm.”
“but,” he looks baffled. “you're twenty-three. you're cute, objectively. you're sweet. you're fun. there's really nobody you want to spend valentine's day with?”
well… your lips part of their own accord as if to speak; you quickly snap them shut before you make a sound. no. you can't tell anyone. especially matty, of all people.
apparently, though, you don't close your mouth fast enough - your friend notices, and giggles, eyes lighting up. “who is he? go on, tell me. promise i won't tell anyone, honest.”
“not a chance.”
“pleeeeeeeeeease?”
“no, matthew,” you take a final drag of your cigarette before stamping it out. “i'm never telling anyone, because it'll never go anywhere between me and him anyway, and thus i am perfectly fine just letting the crush i have fade without acting on it. i'll develop another one soon, anyway.”
no you won't. you've never fancied someone as much in your life as you fancy…
“there you are. was wondering where you'd gotten to, matty,” ross wanders round the side of the building, relief evident on his face. it seems to light up when he sees you, but that's most likely your brain playing tricks on you. “oh. hiya, love. didn't know you were in today, s'nice to see you.”
love?!
shut up. it's ross. he calls everyone that, dipshit.
you clear your throat. “hi, ross. s'nice to see you too. you look… well.”
you pray neither of the boys noticed the awkward pause while you came up with an alternative for “devastatingly attractive”, or that your voice didn't sound as small and squeaky as it sounded to you.
thankfully, neither of them mention it. ross just smiles, and all you can do is focus on not squealing at how cute his dimples are. “thanks. you look good. hair's nice like that.”
“oh,” you self-consciously touch the ponytail you hastily shoved your hat-messy hair into earlier. “thank you.”
he smiles again. “so, what are you gonna develop another of? were you talking about work?”
you say “yes” at the same time the gobshite next to you says “yeah, but then we moved onto talking about how she has no valentine's day plans but she also won't tell whoever she has a crush on that she wants to shag them because she thinks it’s unrequited.”
for fuck's sake.
sighing, you facepalm. ross blinks. “fair enough.”
“you don't think she should tell him?” matty looks aghast.
“what i think is that you should stop pestering her about it,” ross looks pointedly at matty, then turns to you. “but - and i don't want to overstep the mark here, love…”
“no, no, it's fine.”
“... you’ll never get what you really want unless you ask for it,” he finishes, a pleasant smile on his face. “what have you got to lose by doing so, anyway?”
this. our friendship. potentially my job, if i fuck it up enough.
“yeah, i suppose,” you murmur hesitantly. “i'll consider it.”
and you do - in fact, you're still considering it when you next see ross, during setup for the gig on the big day itself. he appears when you're pushing the box light into position on the tiny stage, quickly laying down his bass to run and help you, despite your protests that you've got everything under control.
seeing his arms flex as he works, though, and the way the stark white light somehow manages to warm up those dark eyes? you most definitely do not. still, you refuse to say anything to him then. or before the show, when he automatically passes you a beer so you can be included in the pre-gig cheers. or afterwards, when he risks being pounced upon by drunken fans just so he can help you pack up the merch stall, cracking jokes despite his tiredness.
it's only when you're loading the boxes of t-shirts into adam's car that you actually start to think that mentioning the crush to ross might not be a bad thing. you close the boot with a weary sigh, turning to face ross and high-five him - like you always do - with gratitude. and then he does something… strange.
he hugs you.
it's not a long hug, and definitely one of the “thanks, mate” variety, but still. it's not a common thing to happen between the two of you, ross’s arms wrapping around your shoulders and your waist and pulling you into his chest. it's warm. cosy. safe. and as soon as he lets go, you miss him.
before you get a chance to dwell on that, though, he speaks. “you coming to the pub with us now?”
“us?” your brow furrows. “who's us?”
“everyone except adam and waughy,” ross grins. “you're not the only one with no valentine's plans, love,” his face contorts into panic. “wait, fuck, i just assumed, because you said last week-”
“ross, relax, babe,” you smile, beating yourself up internally for the way the pet name just slipped out; you blame the joy that fizzed up in your stomach when he essentially admitted he's single. “i'm coming to the pub.”
he smiles again, relief evident in his eyes. “alright. good. i think we'll have a good night.”
you do, actually, despite matty monologuing the whole walk there about “you should just phone that guy you like and tell him. for the love of god, at least one of us needs to pull tonight. s'depressing if we don't”. it's actually george who manages that first, disappearing after the first round with a redhead and returning, lipstick-stained and gleefully dazed, half an hour later. matty's next, chatting up girls at the bar and collecting phone numbers by the handful, pointing out vaguely handsome men to you with “yes? no? maybe?” to no avail.
ross doesn't pull at all.
not for lack of trying from the female clientele in the pub, though - every time he leaves the table, you watch heads turn in his direction, and some bodies following. envy tinges your vision green whenever a girl approaches him, but you needn't worry; no matter how pretty or persistent or personable the girls are, ross politely chats as he waits for the drinks, bids them goodbye, and comes back to you. well, to the table. where he sits next to you.
it makes you feel good. so good, in fact, that you decide to tell him how you feel, right then and there. you take another sip of your wine - dutch courage and all - and rest your elbow on the table and your head on your hand, facing ross. “i'm glad i came out tonight.”
“so am i,” he mirrors your pose, smiling. god, you love his dimples. “it's been a good night.”
“yeah. not a bad valentine's day at all.”
ross giggles. “as good as it gets for singles,” he takes a sip of his pint, then looks at you a bit more seriously. “you spoken to that guy yet? the one you like?”
you bite down a giggle, shaking your head. “d'you think i should? ask him out?”
“if you really like him, yeah.”
“but,” you look down at the table, absentmindedly running your index finger round the rim of your glass. “what if he doesn't like me?”
“why wouldn't he?” ross's voice is soft - so are his eyes, you look up to discover. “you're great.”
“really?”
he nods. “really great.”
your heart glows. your face does the same. “thank you, ross.”
he shrugs. “i'm just telling the truth, love. now,” he grins, tapping your phone. “ask him.”
bless him.
you exhale, smiling. “alright,” you turn round to compose yourself, then look back at ross with a smile. “would you like to go for dinner with me?”
for a second, you falter as ross's brow furrows. “what, now? like a kebab- oh,” his jaw drops, and he blinks a few times. “really? it's me that you have a crush on?”
“yeah,” you bite the inside of your cheek, nervous. “is that… really bad?”
“hmm? no, no, not at all! just surprising, s'all,” ross takes your free hand in his own. he looks dazed, but he's genuinely smiling. “i had no idea you liked me like that.”
“and here i was thinking i was doing a shit job at hiding it.”
ross laughs, softly stroking the back of your hand with his thumb; warmth erupts under your skin wherever he touches. he looks at you, so tenderly you want to look away. “yes.”
your turn to be confused. “yes i was doing a shit job at hiding my crush on you? or…?”
“no, love,” ross chuckles, squeezing your hand. “yes, i'd love to go for dinner with you. tomorrow too soon?”
you feel weightless, joyous, positively giddy. but you have to stay cool, so you simply beam at him. “tomorrow's perfect.”
present day
“...so, we went for dinner - pasta, before you ask, keir - and that was it. dad said he wanted to be my boyfriend before we'd even gotten to the tiramisu,” you smile at the memory. “and then we were like that for a while, and then we got married, and then we had you two. and now, here we are.”
“that's it?” keir frowns at you, then looks up at his dad. “but you said you swept mum off her feet.”
ross snorts, ruffling his son's hair. “yeah, not literally, keeks. i just meant that she was very impressed by me.”
“i don't get it.”
“well, ask matty to explain metaphors to you when you next see him, then.”
you wince (ross laughs at that), turning to your daughter, preoccupied with petting ash the cat, who climbed onto her lap halfway through your talk. “thoughts, eils?”
“hmm,” she makes a face. “it's not a very exciting story, mum.”
“cute, though, no?”
“kind of, i guess.”
“wow, you two are hard to impress,” you sigh, turning to ross and smiling despite your kids’ boredom. “worked out well for us, though, didn't it?”
“absolutely, love. couldn't have worked out any better,” ross leans over the table to kiss you; you return it with relish.
“ewwwwwwww! gross!”
“dad, please don’t do that to mum in front of me ever again.”
#mads muses#mads does writing#dad!ross#eilidh#keir#ross macdonald x reader#ross macdonald fanfiction#ross macdonald fanfic#ross macdonald fic#ross macdonald fluff#ross x reader#valentine75
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By The Fireplace // RM
A/N: First time writing Ross, could be the last time too! It's long (7k), it's smutty and it's a day late (sorry @abiiors). This is part of Promptober '23 and I'm not sure if I've written it right as it's set in November (as you can tell it's going well lads).
***
November 23 2023.
Six hours and forty-seven minutes.
It made sense for him to fly straight into Glasgow. It shaved almost two hours off the red-eye flight in comparison to London and another twelve hours in the car to get you to your destination.
This airport and this place weren’t something foreign to him either, he found himself popping up here more often than not just to get some advice. At times he knew he could pick up the phone, but nothing beat an actual, in-person conversation with his big brother in a normal pub with a cheaply priced pint without any pretence.
As he walked to the carousel to grab his bag, he slid the second strap of his backpack onto his arm and immediately followed it with pulling up his hood. He was knackered, body achy from the cramped flight and blinking heavy from the lack of sleep.
His glasses-covered eyes silently followed the black tracking as it moved bag after bag past him. Inside his mind, he began to ridicule himself for not just flying with hand luggage. He didn’t need the extra items, only staying here for seventy-two hours before he would be back in America.
Utah he thinks, or was it Oregon? He made a mental note to figure it out before he left.
Subliminally, he felt himself perk up when he saw his beat up silver luggage push through the black rubber flaps at the start of the carousel. Rather than waiting for it to meet him, Ross went to meet it dragging himself to the other side of the carousel.
Plucking up the item with ease, his gaze quickly scanned the case. He made sure to spot the battered dragonfly sticker that represented one of his favourite bands, therefore knowing he was picking up the right case. Last thing he needed was to be on the phone to Glasgow Airport sorting out their mistake (or maybe it would be his).
Wheeling the case through the airport was easy, even at this hour. Hood still up, he was able to keep himself to himself as he headed towards border control.
The queue shuffled along quite nicely, and he couldn’t help but smile as he read your texts that had been sent throughout his flight. The last one saying, “I’m standing beside the massive Christmas tree, it has mistletoe x.”
He was dying to kiss you, mistletoe or not. He didn’t need an excuse.
Passport scanned and stamped, he softly smiled at the lady on the desk before letting his feet take him to you. His ears perked up at the sound of the accent around him, one that always filled him with the warmest of emotions. It reminded him of the soft lilt his nephew was beginning to pick up.
Walking past W H Smith’s, he weaved around what he perceived to be a couple greeting each other and let his eyes scan over the crowd milling around him.
Christmas tree, Christmas tree, Christmas tree.
He actually spotted you first, regardless of the size of the tree that you were next to. All flannel shirt (which he was sure was his), leather leggings (which he definitely knew were yours) and black boots. Ross gently smiled to himself, taking you in.
You hadn’t noticed him, too engrossed with turning around to look at the flight board that was placed over your left shoulder and reading whether there was any delay with his flight. Truth was the stupid board wasn’t updating so it wasn’t the latest information and you couldn’t be anymore in the dark if you tried to be.
It was almost like slow motion when you turned back around, this sea of hair moving behind you as you looked through the crowd and found him. You knew your smile was megawatt, as you ran your gaze over his entire being; biting it away when you saw the way he had embraced his miserable, emo self and pulled his black hood up.
You couldn’t blame him.
Part of you could already see the heavy tiredness in his body, even though he was at least two yards away from you. Guilt was the heaviest emotion in you, relief was the second. You knew it should be happiness, and god it was there as a close third, but your thoughts were so strongly filled with how much he must love you to do these kinds of things for you.
Flying red eyes. Fucking his body clock up even more to see you for three days. Only to pack his shit up and do it all over again.
Ross closed the gap between you both easily; long and strong strides making the most of his 6’4 stature. When he was in front of you, your hands found his abdomen with ease. Arms sliding underneath his hoodie, desperate to feel as much of his warmth on you now that he was here.
Your head buried itself into his neck, and his arms immediately anchored you to him; hand sliding up to gently cup at the back of your neck. Staying in silence allowed you to really breathe him in, he even smelt tired if there was a way to describe it.
“Where’s this mistletoe then?” He queried, voice wrecked from his time in the air, his lips at your temple.
“Any excuse,” you playfully murmured, as you nudged your head back to look up at him.
“I think you’ll find, you text it to me,” he jested, eyebrows raised as he looked down the bridge of his nose at you. You always loved when he looked at you with such a roguish expression, dimples framing his closed lipped smile.
People often thought of him as sensible and he was, but the times that you saw his eyes light up in this way were some of the most alive times of your life.
“Details,” you whispered, as he pulled you up to him with a know-it-all hum and a mumbled “I’ll give you details” leaning down the rest of the way to meet you.
You’d missed his beard, that was the first musing that came to mind. It’s juxtaposing bristle and softness, always something that distracted you in the best way.
His lips were of course a close second, especially in that moment as they tenderly plucked at yours in a way that heavenly sighed god, I’m glad to see you.
This contented hum left you as he pulled away gently, his lips not done as they nipped at your jaw before he buried his face into your neck now. He started to sway the two of you as you hugged, your hands sliding up his back and gripping to the worn band tee that he donned.
“How was the flight?” you asked, voice slightly strained due to your head being tilted upwards.
The question hung around in the air for a while, before he lifted himself and pressed his lips in sponging kisses to yours once, twice and three times once more.
“Shit,” he let the word linger at your mouth as you heavily sighed, “but ‘s fine.”
With a deep breath, Ross raised to his full height once more, chest puffed out as he stretched, before asking, “Where’s the keys?”
“I’m driving,” you replied, quickly. He eyed you, right hand rubbing at his chest. You hated driving, especially in Scotland. He knew it, you knew it. The times you’d let out the girliest of screams when picking him and Rob up from Murrayfield were far too embedded into his mind to not tease you religiously about it.
It was almost like you could hear his thoughts, reminding him of all the moments you’d panicked when on the roads up here.
“I’m driving, Ross,” you stressed, cutting the thoughts dead. You knew he meant well but there was no way he was going to complete the almost six hour drive that you had on your hands after being sat uncomfortably on a plane for six hours himself and most likely only running off fumes.
His lips quirked, amused at your tone which was so heavily laced with reprimand. “Alright,” he conceded. “After you, darlin’.”
***
He had fallen asleep to Dreams by Fleetwood Mac about an hour and thirty minutes into the drive. You had assumed it to be because you had hit the A82 which was such a large stretch of road which you had to drive along for such a long period of time that it had bored him enough to nod off.
As you had slowed in traffic, you took the time to admire him while he slept. His glasses hung at the neck of the tee, never far away so that he would be able to see almost instantly when he woke rather than panic trying to find them.
His arms were folded across his chest; his neck awkwardly propped up by his bunched up hoodie made into some makeshift pillow and placed between him and the car door. You knew he would regret it later - his body was about to remind him that he was a thirty-four year old man who needed a proper bed to rest in - but regardless you were glad that he had given in to his need to sleep.
A soft smile lifted at your lips as you took in his slightly rounded chin, you just knew a double chin was hidden by his impressive beard and it filled you with such affection that you wondered if you needed an intervention at this point.
Eyes back on the road, you lifted your hand to turn down the music even further, not wanting anything to disturb him during his slumber, and concentrated on the journey ahead of you.
“What a dickhead,” you muttered after a while, pressing the break harder than you liked and watching the navy car to your right almost cut you up without a care in the world.
“He had right of way.”
Turning your face to the left, you blinked in silence over at Ross, whose face was far too amused for your likening. He did not just wake up and berate your driving. How long had he been awake?
“Easy to say when you’ve been asleep for just over four hours,” you commented, pulling off and taking the next left onto a road you didn’t catch the name of. “Must’ve needed the beauty sleep.”
The laugh that he gave you was sudden and hearty. He wasn’t afraid to let you know he was amused by your previous comment which was heavily petulant in its delivery.
“M’necks fuckin’ killing me,” he broke the silence.
“Karma.”
He meowed at you then, communicating he was heavily aware of your cattiness towards him. You cut your eyes to him, infuriated by the way his gaze sparkled before he winked at you to try and soften you up.
Next his right hand moved to brush your hair behind your shoulder. He could feel the tension sitting at the back of your neck and across your shoulders without really touching you.
“Ross,” you mithered, “I’m trying to drive.”
“Pull in ‘ere, let me do the last bit.”
“Sweep in and take the glory, true United fan.”
“No,” he spoke, voice level. “I can feel your apprehension, and I want you to relax. Pull in.”
Sighing, you felt your fingers reach for the indicator before you could stop them, signaling that you were moving to the curb. His belt was off him before you had actually stopped, an annoying beeping sound filling the car to signify someone wasn’t wearing their seatbelt as it was still in operation.
You undid your seat belt slowly, watching him wait at the front of the car as traffic moved around. When it became clear, he rounded the car to your side, opening your door for you and giving you space to get out.
“Any CDs in the glove compartment?” He asked when you were stood in front of him. “Driver's choice.”
You rolled your eyes knowing you were about to endure some scream-o band from the early noughties with heavily distorted guitar sounds and tons of drum snare.
“On you go, Passenger Princess. I’m not changing my mind.”
You squinted your eyes up at him, as he patted twice at your backside.
Watching him in your car, fixing the seat for his long legs always did things to you. It felt like an age since you had last seen him drive, hands moving smoothly over the steering wheel and placing the gear stick into first to pull off.
The finesse he showed was always far more attractive than it should be and you always remembered so vividly the first time he had taken you on a drive in America in this fancy old car that just wasn’t responsive.
You had felt on edge the entire time. Ross? He was so calm. So in control. Taking it all in his stride. Not at all bothered about driving on the opposite side of the road than when you were both home.
It weirdly comforted you. Made you feel safe, secure. Here was a man who was exactly everything you had ever wanted. A little bit geeky, a whole lot manly. Able to act the fool when he felt it, but sweep in and put the pieces back together when needed.
Grateful is what you were.
He must’ve felt it too, because as he pulled out back onto the road and got comfortable, his left hand found its spot atop your thigh. You quickly encased it with both of yours, weaving the fingers of your right hand through his before using your left to gently stroke at the top of his hand, knuckles and forearm.
“Woah, what’s this wanker doing ‘ere?,” he broke the silence with his high pitched and incredulous tone, followed by “ya could fucking indicate, mate!”. You watched as Ross turned the wheel with his right hand alone and looked through his mirrors, almost asking himself silently if those around him could actually drive.
“Doesn’t he have right of way?”
“No, he fucking does not.”
The delivery of his response was so deep and astute you bit back your laugh, before lifting his hand to your lips; giving in and chuckling against his skin.
Of course, he didn’t!
(He absolutely did).
***
The Isle of Skye was renowned for its beauty. A hidden gem of sorts within the Scottish islands. Known for its rugged landscapes, picturesque fishing villages and medieval castles, the largest island in the Inner Hebrides was to be your home for the next seventy-two hours.
The feeling you got when you drove over to the coast via the bridge that connected it to Scotland’s northwest was like no other. You heard Ross chuckle under his breath at the way you let go of his hand and clambered for your phone so you could film the scenery around you, mountains and hills that were awash of oranges and browns, with the odd bit of greenery clinging on even though you were fully in the throes of autumn.
Panning your camera across the car, you filmed his profile as he drove with poise along the bridge, barely any cars in front of you giving an open road feel. He looked at you from the corner of his eye when he felt you filming him, this devilish grin lifting at his mouth as you watched him through the camera lift your hand to his lips then placing it against the side of his face.
“Eyes on the road, Romeo,” you replied to his non-verbal action, stroking his cheek with your thumb, before gently turning his head away to look through the windscreen.
The rest of the drive had been quite a damp one, the heavens opening and rain battering down onto your car. With about fifteen minutes to go, you wrapped yourself up in Ross’ hoodie, glancing over at him to see him sat further forward in his seat as he wiped at the inside of the window which was misting up.
You fiddle around with the blowers to help him, blasting them up to the highest they would go and seeing the way the hot heat helped clear the windscreen slightly.
The sat nav told him to take the next right, the car dropping down to 15mph due to the narrow streets that he was driving around and then it was the next left to take you to the cottage that was nestled in the village of Elgol.
The beauty of Elgol was something the two of you had discovered and became captivated by over his short and sweet summer break after attending a wedding of his brother's friend.
During those four days, you had spent time exploring the breathtaking coastline and ventured on scenic walks through the landscapes that were so often talked about when it came to Skye.
When you had last been there, you had been able to experience the perfect balance of seclusion and adventure, which was exactly what you and he had been after for the longest time.
“We’re going to be rained off,” he mumbled, a little agitated as he pulled the car to halt outside your cottage for the next three days.
“You say that as if there isn’t plenty for us to do inside.”
It was meant to be suggestive and you appreciated that he had picked up on it immediately, this smug smile plucking at his lips; the kind that was absolutely driven by a dirty thought or two.
“I know how much you love a game of chess, babe.”
He glanced over at you unamused, as you laughed in such a dirty way, you were almost shocked a sound like that could leave you.
“Just love it, me.”
His deadpan was second to none. It was definitely one of your favourite things about him: made the list of the top five favourite things ever.
“Getting really good at it.”
“And who’s told you that?” He dropped his head back against the headrest and rolled his face to the side to look at you. He was currently on a losing streak, truth be told.
“Hey, Waughy and I talk. Usually when I’m waiting for you to reply to my text but you’re too hungover to pick your head up off the pillow.”
“Oh, I see how it is, fraternising with the enemy. Giving him all my tricks.”
You rolled your lips into your mouth, breathing deeply through your nose. “Not all of them.”
Those words were weighty.
There were some things John didn’t need to know about his friends. Things that were for only you and Ross.
A silence fell over you both, filling the car. You kept your eyes on each other, Ross’ occasionally falling over your features and dropping to your lips. He’d stare at them for a while, before they’d lift and he’d start the process all over again.
He did this a lot when he was away, sometimes in person like now after he had dared to take the flight, or other times through the phone when FaceTiming from California, or New York, or Perth. It was like he needed to memorise you in some way, just in case you changed by the time he got home.
You took him in too, his usual hair less sleek as flyaways made their presence known thanks to the damp moisture in the air. His skin wasn’t as perky as usual, a little sallow in colour but regardless he was still the most handsome man you knew.
Under his loving gaze, you shivered. It was probably more from the cold than anything, but that didn’t stop the light blush invading.
“Best get you inside and warm,” he spoke. “Gonna have to make a run for it.”
You giggled to yourself as you opened your door, breath catching in your throat when the cold splashes of rain hit you. You turned briefly to see Ross using his long stride to his advantage, jogging to the blue front door of your cottage and moving from side to side to keep himself from going numb as the November cold whipped around him.
Car door slammed behind you, you held your bag in your hand and ran to stand next to him, both trying to cram yourself into the alcove under the thatched room.
Your hands shook as you fiddled with the keys. Trying your best to align it with the lock. He watched from the side of you as you shivered on the front door step, all-natural radiance and slightly sodden, swaying from side to side as you tried to keep warm.
“Come ‘ere,” his deep voice chuckled, unable to watch you struggle any longer, gently taking the keys from you and pushing them into the lock. “How are you so fuckin’ freezing and you’ve even nicked my jumper?”
You didn’t answer him, instead opting to push the door open the minute he’d unlocked it and prayed that the owners had left some kindle for the open fire so that Ross would be able to sort it immediately.
***
One warm shower later, you stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the lounge, eyes moving over the scene in front of you. Hair thrown up in a messy bun atop your head, the tartan pyjamas you had purposely packed were loose against your frame.
Ross has disappeared into the bathroom about thirty minutes ago now to wash away the travel, his rendition of And She Was muffled but still present over the sound of the shower.
You’d spent that time going through the welcome pack that was filled with freshly baked bread courtesy of the owners, a burgundy white wine which boasted buttery tastes of peaches and citrus zest, and of course a bag of coffee that sounded completely to Ross’ fancy.
With the bottle uncorked, you poured yourself a glass, quickly placing it into the fridge to keep it chilled. Regardless of it edging closer to winter by the day, there was nothing worse than room temperature wine.
Shoulder pressed to the door jamb, you sipped at the alcohol and rested the cool glass against your lips.
The Nest as it was known, was definitely romantic. All thatched roof and spectacular panoramic views which overlooked Knock Castle and across the Sound of Sleat to the Knoydsrt mountains.
Inside it was all vintage French fabrics and fine linen. With its sheepskin rugs and real wood fire stove, the cottage was described as the “perfect getaway for couples looking to explore and return to comfort after a day walking in the hills and mountains”.
While your exploring had only consisted of you carrying your items from the car and into the cottage, you were definitely ready to get cosy next to the fire and relax in the lived-in space.
“Forgot my clothes,” he spoke in a hushed tone not wanting to break the serene silence when he spotted you across the room. His voice slowly tapered off as he took in the particular tartan pattern that you were donning, recognising it to be that of his own family name.
The smirk that lifted at his lips, and the flare of his nostrils as he inhaled deeply let you know he had caught on. As tribal as it was, you didn’t mind the way his eyes ravaged you.
Your eyes ran over him without shame in return, his hair wet and sitting against his shoulders, lines of water dripping down his hairy chest and over the tops of his broad shoulders. The delicate chain that he always wore was decorative against his neck.
His right hand held a white towel securely at his hips, clenching at the fabric as he glistened and walked closer to you.
“Any of that going spare?” He nudged his head towards the wine, causing you to peel your eyes away from him and down to your own glass. When you looked back at him, he was so close to you you had to tilt your head back slightly.
“Depends,” you started, watching his eyebrow quirk up at you with intrigue. “Are you planning on sitting around in that towel, or covering yourself up?”
The crackle of the fire cut through the room and your question.
“How’d you want me?”
***
Ross opted for clothes, which meant he had to pour his own glass of wine when he came back from getting dressed. Rather than giving him a verbalised answer earlier, you’d flirtatiously tugged at his right wrist trying to get him to drop the towel.
“Towel stays on babe,” he had whispered against your lips, wet hair moving to almost curtain around you. “This cold won’t do anything for my ego.”
You rolled your eyes at him bringing up “winter penis”, which if you recalled correctly had been a topic of conversation a few nights ago when he had called you from Toronto. A conversation that had started with the guys, and one he thought fitting to continue with you.
It wasn’t, but you’d rolled with it. Mainly because at the time of the call you could hear the stage whisky fuelled slur and wanted to humour him.
You had fawned over him in that moment, openly discussing the size of his dick and before you knew it you were engaged in particularly erotic dirty talk while you sat and ate your Weetabix. Time zones were fucking bizarre, but you did what you had to to survive tour. That’s just how it was.
“You know the other morning when you phoned me and started talking about your dick,” he hummed, wanting you to continue. “I was eating breakfast-“
“Was it any good for you?”
“The Weetabix? Ten out of ten.”
He laughed, his head falling back against the cushions as he sat on the floor with his back resting against the bottom of the sofa.
“Cheers,” he bit back in good humour, looking at you upside down.
You let your fingers run gently across his brow, thumb stroking at his forehead as you softly smiled. “You know how I feel about your dick,” you whispered.
“Do I?”
You hummed your response of “yes”, voice light and airy.
“Why are we whispering?” He asked. You shrugged. “They deliver cocktails to this cottage, did ya know that?”
You hummed again, watching him flip through the menu he was holding. His fingers tapping at one of the cocktail names, “Reckon I’d like this one.”
Leaning down and looking over his shoulder you read the title.
Highland Fling. How predictable.
You chose to stay silent as you read the few lines explaining it underneath its bolded title.
The Highland Fling cocktail is a bold, robust and a slightly sweet drink with a flavour of citrus. The smoky and rich flavours of the Scotch whisky are balanced by the sweetness of Drambuie and tart lemon juice. Mixed together they create a complex and satisfying taste experience.
The cocktail is a popular choice among whisky enthusiasts and those who appreciate the rich history of Scottish culture.
“Technically we’re not in the Highlands,” you paused, glancing over at him and seeing his rich eyes were already on you. “For someone who likes to think they’re Scottish, you’ve fucked it there.”
He raised his eyebrows. Touché.
“Spoilsport.”
You leant forward to soothe him with a peck to the lips, whispering against his mouth, “Get four of ‘em.”
***
Before you knew it you were both a few cocktails deep, glasses lined up either side of you on the floor where you sat.
As he looked over at you, he knew you were at the very least buzzed by the soft flush that littered your cheekbones. He had zoned out at whatever it was you were talking about, too engrossed by the way you shone as you talked to him.
He knew he was fucked, in more ways than one. Hopefully literally, at least later on, but that thought could wait for another hour or two. Loving someone and being in love were different things, and in that moment he knew he was in love with you. He knew a lot of things actually; like he knew he needed to ask you to marry him before the tour was out.
He didn’t know how, he didn’t know when but he knew he had to make it happen.
Maybe he could find some time in the new year, whisk you away somewhere warm to fight away the January blues. At least that’s what he would tell you.
With your feet in his lap, you leant back on your right hand as you sat on the floor, left holding your fifth cocktail to your lips. It was something pink and fruity - watermelon or strawberry based, he couldn’t quite remember - but the way it was staining your lips was all too satisfying.
“I actually think he has a soft spot for me now,” you spoke softly, humming and closing your eyes as you felt his hands move to massage your feet.
“Who?”
You spoke the name of his eldest nephew, seeing the way his eyes smiled at the mention of his brother’s son, when yours fluttered open and looked back at him.
“He’s always liked you,” he reassured, hand rubbing gently along your calf. He liked you talking about his family so breezily, even if you were showing a need to be liked by his three year old nephew in this scenario.
You shook your head, biting down at your lip. “No one compares to Uncle Ross.”
“Uncle Ross, is really fucking cool that’s why.”
He widened his eyes to emphasise what he was saying, wondering how he wasn’t cringing at describing himself as cool.
“Pretty fit too.”
He looked at you over the rim of his glass as he stalled his movement to drink; holding your eyes with his he let his lips encase the rim of the glass. They were dark and smouldering, never leaving your face. There was no chance he didn't know what he was doing; he didn’t need to verbalise how much he wanted you at that moment.
“How fit we talking?”
You breathed deeply, a blissful sigh leaving you on exertion. “So fit.”
He laughed down his nose, the additional sip of his cocktail he had taken now swallowed.
“Really eloquent.”
“I know,” you played along, voice breathy. “The most eloquent, but tell me I’m wrong.”
In goading fashion you pressed your foot gently into his stomach, feeling his hand clasp around the top from your action.
“Behave.”
“Make me.”
Ross pulled at your leg then, hand curling under your knee, needing you closer. Your joyful squeal turned into a throaty laugh as you threw your head back and somehow found yourself in his lap.
He was back against the sofa then, hands sliding up the back of your pyjamas and gripping gently to the nape of your neck. He guided your face down and towards him. His mouth smiled against yours, the two of you too happy to engage in a proper kiss.
Giving up, he slid his lips across your cheek and underneath your chin as you tilted your head back and breathed his name. He gently nipped at your throat, tongue licking and tasting your skin which was slightly salty due to the heat within the room from the roaring fire.
Your fingers were woven into the hair at the nape of his neck, pushing upwards underneath where his hair tie sat, to try and loosen his bun. His hair was still damp from where it had been tied up after his shower hours earlier, and the cool strands felt delightful to your fingertips.
“I fucking love you in this,” he confessed, face buried in your chest as he finally acknowledged you wearing his family tartan. His right hand had a strong hold on your back, hand splayed between your shoulder blades as you leaned back.
His left was fumbling with the buttons of your pyjama top, desperate to rid you of the clothing item. Your mind was telling you to help, but you were too engrossed by the feeling of his lips suckling at your sternum.
“Babe,” you gasped, when you felt him nudge the fabric away with his nose, mouth wet along the top of your boob before he enclosed his lips around your exposed nipple. A satisfied moan left you, as you stroked down the back of his neck and lightly grazed your nails over his skin.
His fingers were firm, deftly plucking at the remaining buttons of your top like the strings of a bass as he grew confident. Top now sat open, his hands were quick to encourage you to move yours from around his neck, so he could slide the sleeves off.
Ross was so immersed in you, the smell of your skin and the way your breath got caught in your throat as he lapped at your nipple.
“Your tits are incredible.”
The comment was boyish and almost lost against your skin. It made you smile, teeth biting down at your bottom lip as he switched boobs.
“I missed you too,” you replied, humour lacing your words.��
From your response you felt him lightly trace his nose against your breastbone, he tilted his face back to look up at you, his chin resting at your chest. Your hands moved to gently cup at his face, Ross turning slightly to press his lips to the inside of your palm.
His eyes were imploring as they looked up at you, silently watching you slide your top off completely and aimlessly throw it away before welcoming you back to him by sliding his hands up your bare back and applying a small amount of pressure to your shoulder blades to pull you down to him.
He had missed you. He didn’t need to voice it literally at that moment. It was in his gaze, his touch, the way his fingers dug into your skin as he held you.
You cupped his cheeks, the sound of both your inhales mixing just before your lips met and his face became blurred to you. He started off delicately, almost allowing you to process the feeling of his beard beneath your right hand, and his lips against yours. It wasn’t long until a fervent, urgent need overtook, building from this graduation of intensity that had you clinging to him like he was the only solid thing in your ever-changing world.
Ross’ mouth was insistent as he parted your lips and it evoked a sensuality within you that you had missed the minute he had parted from you all those months prior. His tongue slipped inside your mouth, gentle but demanding, causing a swimming giddiness to overflow your being.
You smiled at the smacking sound of your lips audible, like two teenagers necking on. Faltering lips and a low and muffled moan omitting against your mouth from him as you curled your fingers in his hair and lightly pulled.
Fighting a losing battle, Ross’ lips moved messily down your chin and to your neck. He paused momentarily, holding you against his body before moving to lay you back against the sheepskin rug. It felt sleek and inviting against your skin and you looked down your body at him waiting on his next move.
“Thought about you fucking me on this carpet when I booked this place,” you softly voiced like it was some lewd confession and not one you were sharing with your long term boyfriend.
This wicked glint flickered across his gaze and the smuggest grin you had sworn he had ever worn lifted at his lips; slowly he sat back on his haunches and started to unbutton his top. His eyes were everywhere; at your bare chest, on the sea of hair that haloed above you.
“Did ya?”
Looking down at him, you nodded happily wearing your soft blush and lifted your hand to try and reach for the bottom of his shirt to help him remove it quicker.
“Lured me here under the pretense of wanting a nice little getaway,” he teased. “Really just wanted to have your way with me.”
His eyes took in the way you looked at him, all doe-eyed and biting gently down on your bottom lip. You weren’t going to deny it; why would you?
You instead reached for his hand. The heat and wetness between your legs felt all too inviting, desperate for his touch. He palmed you over the top of your underwear so easily, dexterous digits swiping at your clit in the right way.
“Don’t start without me,” he paused, as your eyes started to close from the feel of his fingers. His lips pressed to your warm cheek when he continued, “Let me go get some condoms.”
As he rose to his feet, he quickly stripped his lower half leaving him naked, unphased and all bare bottom as he walked away. It wasn’t lost on you the use of the plural.
Starting without him was exactly what you needed, fingers caving and picking up where he left off: gently rubbing at yourself and spreading your wetness over your clit.
“Hands,” his chided when back in the lounge, hearing a soft whine escape you and seeing your hands move to easily rid you of your pyjama trousers. When you returned to your place on the floor, you watched the strip of condoms bounce to the carpet next to you, from his relaxed throw.
“Someone’s confident,” you casually commented, gazing up at him through hooded eyes and taking in the open wrapper that was placed between his teeth. He smirked around it, head dropped and looking down at his hands as they adeptly rolled the latex over his erection.
Joining you back on the floor, Ross leant over and pressed a kiss to the inside of your left knee, his eyes finding yours from under his brow. He mumbled, “Some would say prepared…”
He stalled his words, lips now at your right knee. “…. Safe.”
“Sexy.”
“How’d you want me?” He queried in return, feeling your hands pulling at him.
“You decide. Just want you.”
He moved so effortlessly between your legs, them pliant in his hands and accommodating. His weight above you was always welcomed, comfortingly looming and imperturbably virile.
“Put me in,” he spoke, voice low and caught in his throat as slipped his tip between your folds. You whined around your bitten lips, reaching up to pull him down closer from where he was hovering over you.
His lips were heavy on yours once more, all tongue and hungry. He groaned against your mouth as you stroked him over the condom that he wore, hands sliding down your waist and angling your hips.
“S’yours, you know.”
You slowly smiled at his slurred and barely audible words, mouth dropping open and head falling further into the carpet as he slid into you with no resistance, bottoming out in one long, smooth stroke and the manliest “fuck me”.
Humming deeply, Ross bit around his smile as he started with shallow, teasing thrusts. A series of strokes that you found frustratingly sexy but knew as ones he wouldn’t be able to keep up due to his own insatiable desires.
“More,” you craved to feel the power you knew he held.
He listened, thrusts more measured - slow, hard and deep - knowing what you wanted and needed. Undulating and determined.
He jutted his hips forward, knocking your body with more force as you lay relaxed below him, arms above your head and boobs bouncing with each swift jolt of his thrusts as he fucked into you.
“Yes, fuck me,” you breathily moaned, head pushed back further into the floor beneath you, hands moving to the rug upon which your lay, fingers grasping at the soft material.
To think that all those hours earlier, you thought that neither of you were going to get warm. Now you almost choked around the thick air that consumed you within the room and from the roaring fire.
Ross’ thrusts kept their measured in pace, more forceful than before and you couldn’t help the blissful sighs and heavenly cries that left you lips as he devoured your sweaty skin, licking and sucking at the curve between where your shoulder and neck met.
The feeling of his touch let you know how sure of himself he was. You couldn’t disagree as your body welcomed him, receptive and pliant and willing.
He frowned along with you when he felt you begin to go taught. When you breathily gasped his name, he scooped you into him and held you against him.
Your orgasm had crept up on you, causing you to cup the back of his neck and bring his face back to yours. He was muttering words of approval into your skin, something that you couldn’t decipher that had you opening your legs wider for him.
He knew you liked it when you couldn’t quite figure out what filthy things he was saying to try and get you there. It summed up the mystique that peppered throughout your relationship.
As you shook, he sloppily fucked you through your release, hand tilting your hips up as you become slack.
“God, I love you,” you desperately gasped when you came to, face flushed and feeling clammy from the mixture of the heat from the naked flame to your right and pure exertion.
“‘Think you love fuckin’ me,” he roughly spoke, his right hand seeking yours and lacing your fingers together against the rug. You looked at him with desperate eyes, a shake of your head to his words. “No?” He sniggered down his nose, his own skin taking on a pink flush.
His other hand wound underneath your lower back, as you arched slightly, liking the way he wanted to drag it out; to roll his heavy hips into yours this entire time and making it so your clit rubbed against his pelvic bone on every thrust.
He watched your eyes roll back and your chin lifted upwards, him finding your spot once more causing you to clench around him. Ross groaned your name, begging you to look at him. Your hazy eyes found his shortly after he aired his request, hips snapping forward when you silently begged him with fucked out eyes to fill you up.
“Fuck, ‘m comin’.”
The sound of his voice was watery; choked as he groaned causing you to blissfully sigh when you felt him drop down to you, your arms enveloping his body and holding it to yours.
You ran your fingertips lightly down his back, listening to his breathing even itself out, you pressed a fluttering kiss to his temple and purred, “Welcome home, baby.”
#promptober75#promptober#ross macdonald x reader#ross macdonald x you#ross macdonal fanfic#ross x reader#ross x you#ross macdonald fluff#ross macdonald smut#fluff writing#smut writing
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silent treatment 💫 // ross macdonald x reader
a/n: this is not a christmas fic, this is just something that i had in my drafts for like a month now because @the1975attheirverybest sent me a photo of ross' tour bus (the one in the banner) from when she went to the baltimore show and of course i had nasty ideas about it lmao. so yes, here we go--the tour bus fucking fic hehe.
i'm still really struggling with writer's block and hate everything i have been writing so this might be a bit shit :/
cw: brat-taming kinda, smut obv, dirty talk??? general nasty behaviour
wc: 2.2k
american fans are loud.
well, all fans are loud; it’s not really a bad thing to be, but the american ones are especially loud, you’ve noticed. cheers and shouts and whoops of joy at the airport, and a collective roar that tears through the crowd every time the boys come on stage—it’s all part of the world. his world. your world.
girls shriek and cry wherever he goes, hugging him—their bodies pressed against his, their hands holding his, boldly flirting with him too sometimes. sure, he ignores it and only smiles politely. sure, he only signs their stuff and indulges them for selfies but the burn in your chest remains just the same. dull but prominent.
all in all, he likes america and america likes him. you? maybe not so much.
still, it’s not all hate. it’s fun being on the tour bus and driving through the big wide expanses of the midwest, certainly fun when his hand is buried between your legs and the other muffling your moans. fun to watch your nails digging into his thigh as you chase the high over and over again before falling limp against his chest.
today, however, you skew more towards annoyance.
he’s been so busy, he hasn’t even had the time to look at you properly much less talk to you for longer than ten minutes—what with having to leave one city and go to the other immediately. it’s been hectic and he’s seized the chance to nap whenever he can, just like polly and john who share the bus with you. not that you blame him for it—the exact opposite of it, in fact—you’re grateful for any rest he can get.
but the brattiness rears its ugly head sometimes. and now as you stand there in a corner, watching the instruments being taken out of their truck and brought backstage, you can’t help but bite angrily on the lollipop in your mouth.
ross is on the phone across the room, talking to a friend or a colleague or maybe even family. you don’t know. what you do know is his eyes are trained on you and you alone—rather, on your lips closed around the lollipop, on the sticky residue on your lips. your eyes in turn move to his hand—the one gripping the phone in a vice-like grip, knuckles almost white.
it only takes him another ten seconds to end the call and cross the room. and now here he is—towering over you, looking down at you.
“what’s up with you?”
you shrug, tongue flat against the sweet candy, “nothing.”
“nothing?” his voice is low. mostly to conceal it from the people all around you but also full of warning. so you’ve irked him then… good.
you choose not to answer, giving the lollipop a small lick instead. there’s barely any left now but you plan to enjoy every last bit of it.
“what, don’t wanna talk to me now?”
“me?” you ask, exaggerating the confusion in your voice. testing the boundaries.
“yes, you,” his eyes flash a little, “don’t act like you don’t know what i’m talking about.”
it’s a dangerous game to play with him, especially the way his pupils dialate every time you swirl your tongue around the last bit of the candy, relishing it thoroughly and letting its sweetness linger on your lips.
ross leans down, mouth directly next to your ear. “you can be a brat all you want, sweet girl. as long as you’re ready for the consequences.”
and before you’ve had the chance to reply, he bends down and closes his mouth around the rest of the lollipop. a loud crunch cuts through the silence. he straightens, smiles like nothing’s out of the ordinary and leaves you holding the now empty white stick.
ross is busy talking to the organisers of a local artists’ collective.
he laughs and chats animatedly and listens to them talking about how much they value this opportunity that the band has created. their voices are loud and boisterous—happy, giddy, excited. a complete contrast to you sulking in the corner, scrolling through tiktok and watching one pointless video after another.
his eyes flick to you once in while, linger on you when matty takes over the conversation. you see the warning in them so clearly. don’t be a baby. don’t pout. but you ignore and double down. if he doesn’t want to give you attention then you’re not going to beg for it. no matter how much you want to pull him into some broom closet and show him exactly what he’s missing.
you cross and uncross your legs and send him a look.
look what you to do me.
he sends one back.
busy. not now.
so you go back to your phone. scroll, a makeup tutorial, scroll, ten must buy amazon things, scroll, movies to watch this winter, scroll— a snap of his fingers breaks through your monotony.
“come share a fag with me.”
you take your sweet time looking and him an deciding if you’re in the mood to smoke, even go so far as to make him ask again.
“well?”
“sure.”
it’s quieter once you’re outside. there’s still the sounds of traffic and a bit of laughter floating out from the inside. somewhere someone’s playing a familiar tune and you watch ross light his cigarette. the fire casts a warm glow on his jaw briefly, on his stubble that’s coming in once again after shaving it off for halloween.
the skin on the inside of your thighs stings from the memory.
“open,” he says and you obey, letting him stick the end of the cigarette between your lips and taking a drag. the smoke burns but with some satisfaction you see the lipstick smudge you left behind.
ross is just taking his own drag when you blow the smoke on his face and shrug when quirks an eyebrow.
“generous of you to take five minutes out of your busy schedule.”
“careful, love,” he warns and lets you take another drag of the cigarette. “don’t be a brat. you know i’m busy.”
“you’re always busy.”
“is that so?”
he looks amused and it riles you up even more. he’s the one that’s supposed to be affected, not you! a beat of silence passes and ross slowly drags his fingers up your arms leaving goosebumps in their wake.
“my gorgeous girl,” he says and presses a kiss to your shoulder, moving his mouth to your jaw and then to your collarbone. “are you mad at me?”
“no.”
“no?”
you fight to contain the shiver that passes through you. even when you can feel the little tingles intensifying throughout your body. need swirls through your stomach the more his mouth moves on your neck.
“then what’s this silent treatment for, huh?”
“what silent treatment?”
“oh, baby,” ross tuts and his stubble grazes over the sensitive skin of your neck. “you really wanna play dumb?”
every retort flies out of your brain when he grabs a hold of your hips and pulls you close to him.
“you know what happens to dumb little bunnies, right?”
“y-yes.” it’s almost a whimper that quickly turns into a half moan when his hand rests on the back of your thighs, trailing up and up and up until it’s almost on the curve of your ass.
you yelp when he pinches the skin.
“you want to be fucked that bad, huh?”
and now you finally have him where you want.
“so now you want to be loud,” ross mocks and dives back under your dress.
this torture has lasted for a good ten minutes now. the insides of your thighs already feel raw and chafed. and he hasn’t even properly started yet. he’s still busy marking up the smooth skin of your legs.
“always a good girl when you want something from me, aren’t you?”
you nod fervently, trying to stifle the mewl that’s about to leave your mouth. instead you clutch his head and try to push him where you want. ross is quicker. before you ever know it, his hand it wrapped around your wrists and he pulls back again, looking at you with yet another warning glare.
his hair is a mess, his mouth wet from leaving all those kiss and bites on your skin but it’s his eyes that really get you—pupils blown out so wide that his eyes might as well be black.
“please ross, please,” you whine, shamless and desperate and dying for his mouth to be back on you.
“please what?”
“please make me cum.”
your pout has stopped affecting him a long time ago, even when you look at him with teary eyes and spread your legs wider. the underwear was discarded somewhere the minute you got inside the tour bus and now he has the perfect view of how wet you are. how ready for him.
the inside of the bus feels uncomfortably hot or maybe it’s just your skin that’s sticky and sweaty and in desperate need of his touch.
“no silent treatment anymore?”
“no,” you shake your head, “gonna be a good girl now. please please please.”
“yes, you are.” ross smiles and it feels more sinister than genuine. “i’ll stop what i’m doing if i hear another sound from you, baby.”
“w-what?”
“dumb little slut,” he mocks again, mouth so so close to your clit that it’s impossible to focus on anything else. “don’t want people to walk in on us, do you?”
“no. no!”
“then be quiet for me.”
easy for him to say. because his lips attach around your clit at that exact moment and you bite down on the back of your hand to stop the loud moan from escaping.
“ungrateful, spoiled little brat,” ross tuts, presses his tongue flat against your opening. “look at you now.”
the heady mix of big and small licks makes your head spin, makes you want to cry out his name over and over again but for the sake of your sanity you stay quiet. for each small whimper that still manages to escape you, you feel a small sting on your thigh—a nip or a bite.
“my sweet, filthy girl,” he coos, ghosting his lips over each bruise, each bite and goes back to torturing your cunt.
“ross, can i–oh! can i cum, please!”
“gonna cum for me, already?” he teases and pulls away entirely. “and what if i said no.”
the look you give him is one full of desperation—tears gathered on your lower lashline, bottom lip swollen and red from bitting hard to keep quiet.
“please!”
“no.”
and that’s that, just like that his head is back between your legs, tongue hot on your cunt as his nose pushed into your clit. between trying to stay quiet and trying not to cum you barely have any grip on reality. all you know is how it feels too much, too much pleasure, bordering on pain now. the urge to let go is too strong.
“let me ask you again, baby,” his voice comes through the haze in your mind. barely even audible. “are you done with the silent treatment?”
“y-yes, m’sorry!” you whine, “won’t do it again. wont—”
“look at you…” his condescending tone somehow turns you on even more. the humiliation somehow adds to the pleasure. “ready to be my good girl again?”
“yes, yes!” the buzzing in your ears is so loud now, his voice barely even comes through. all you know is the feeling of his tongue inside you and the stinging of your thighs. the sticky sweat on your skin.
your legs shake from the strain of denying yourself an orgasm, your head swims with too much of everything and nothing all at once.
“go on then,” he speaks. finally. “you can let go now.”
all you manage is a long whine and every single restraint drops. you think you grip his head between your thighs, practically convulsing from the force of the orgasm that hits you, trembling from the way his tongue laps everything up. it’s beyond you how he manages to hold you upright.
you think you scream out his name, practically alerting everyone in a five kilometre radius. you think you pull on his hair and hear him hiss. but ross lets you.
minutes later when he finally stands, his beard and mouth glistens with slick.
“there’s my good girl,” he coos and holds you in his arms.
“look at me,” he coaxes a bit until you manage to open your eyes and look at him properly. despite how fucked he looks, there’s a sweet smile on his face. and his eyes soften when you meet his gaze. “sorry i ignored you before, love. don’t be mad at me.”
“m’not mad at you.” you mumble and every single negative emotion from before melts away within seconds.
“good.” his smile widens, just a touch of mischievous once again. “now that you’ve learned your lesson… let me make it up to you.”
and just like that, he’s back on his knees, diving between your legs once again.
reblogs and comments are always appreciated <33
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You meet Ross when he's on a brief break from tour, and hit it off straight away. You agree that it's only going to be a bit of fun, nothing serious, just sex and adventures until he has to go away again. Except it doesn't work out like that and by the time he goes away for the second leg, he's really fallen for you. You feel the same but you both stick to the plan, neither of you aware of the other's true feelings. You keep in touch on tour, casual at first but the flirting ramps up and it soon becomes very apparent that you're mad about each. May or not end up with Matty sending you plane tickets 😆
Just a fling
Warnings: smut, swearing, use of good girl bc I can’t help myself! minors DNI
Loud music pumped through the speakers, drinks flowed through your veins, you and your friends laughed and chatted across the table in the bar together, sinking more and more drinks, you were happily buzzed. Ross was on the other side of the bar, sipping on his whiskey, eyes dragging across various faces in the bar as he half listens to what his friends are saying to him. Taking in the space, when his eyes land on you, his eyes narrowed slightly as he stood for a moment just watching you across the room as you laughed with friends, occasionally sipping your drink, eyes eventually leaving the group when you feel a heavy gaze burning into your skin. Your eyes find his and you see a subtle smirk settle on his face, a smirk that almost read ‘you’re mine, if only for tonight.’
You hesitantly return your gaze back to your group of friends having missed what they said “huh?” You draw out, eyes still lingering back and forth between your friends and the tall, dark haired, handsome stranger. “We said it’s your turn to buy a round” one of your friends practically shouts across the table at you, finally regaining your full attention. “Oh, uh, okay, same again for everyone?” They all nod as you grab your bag heading towards the bar, you place your order with the barman and wait patiently, about to turn around to look at your friends when a broad chest blocks your vision. You raise your head to meet the eyeline of the man an entire foot taller than you, to find the same brown eyes you had met across the room moments ago, only now they were right in front of you, and the warm lights of the bar were glistening in his eyes making them shine, and making your heart race. You gasp when you realise how close he is and that he is in fact real, not a figment of your imagination. “Sorry love, didn’t mean to make you jump” his voice is deeper than you had expected, but he smiles and his dimples pop out making your shocked gaze soften. “It’s okay, I just wasn’t expecting anyone to be there, which is silly really because this place is packed…” your voice trails off, eyes leaving his to look at the floor for a moment, out of embarrassment.
“No it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have been standing so close, but you caught my eye earlier and I thought I’d catch you while you’re alone” your eyes widen slightly as he speaks. “Wow didn’t mean for that to come out as predatory as it sounded” he jokes making you laugh, easing the tension, the barman hands over your tray of drinks and your about to pick it up when the kind stranger takes it for you, you give him a strange look but he nods his head for you to follow him. He walks over to your table, your friends all go quiet and stare wide eyed at the incredibly good looking man stood next to you carrying their drinks, he places the tray down and the girls fly to their cocktails like vultures, all needing a drink in their systems for whatever was about to happen next. “Hello ladies, I’m Ross, I was wondering if I could borrow your friend for a little while?” He speaks to them so politely you want to die, the girls all gawk at you until your friend hannah “babe take her, she’s been away with the fairies all night anyway” they laugh and you shake your head whispering a thanks to her as you lean down to grab your drink. Following who you now know to be Ross, across the bar and to an empty table.
“So, you know my name but I’m yet to learn yours, would you enlighten me?” He smirks once more as he sips his drink. You roll your eyes own drink burning down your throat, “Y/n” he smiles and reaches across the table, fingers grazing your knuckles as your hold your glass. “Y/n, beautiful, I like it, it suits you” you feel yourself blushing at his forwardness. “Thank you" you breathe. The night carried on, more questions asked, learning the ins and outs of each other, you learn he's in a band, a successful one, which has you surprised as to what he's doing in a little bar like this, in the middle of nowhere. He learns that you're a writer and write a column reviewing films and Tv series, for a notable news blog. You were both successful in your line of works which was something he liked. He also hated to admit it, but he liked that you didn't immediately know who he was, only recognising him once he told you who his band mates were. "We nearly met once actually" he raises an eyebrow at you as you speak. "I was asked to be one of the journalists reporting at the brits a few years ago, but I had to pass up on the offer" you admit, raising your glass to your lips, as his eyes widen, "and what was more important than a night at the brits?" Ross smirks as he talks, edging himself closer towards you, "I prefer to do my reporting behind my screen, never really been one to get out in front of a camera, besides, couldn't have you fawning all over me when you were supposed be answering questions about your award" You wink a the man, earning a blush and snigger.
You don't know how you ended up here. Back pressed against the elevator wall, as Ross peppered hot, wet kisses along your neck, jaw, biting your earlobe. You're not sure a what point in the night, the soft touches of your hands turned into kisses, but it didn't take much after that for you to get your coat and follow Ross back to his hotel. You hear the ding of the lift doors opening signalling you'd reached his floor, Ross practically dragging you down the hallway, hand struggling to swipe the card through the reader to unlock his door, you stand behind him, hugging him, hands roaming across his chest, dragging them down his front to rest above his belt buckle. You chuckle into his back as you hear him groan tapping recklessly as the door lock trying to get it open. It finally clicks open, Ross turning in your arms, taking you by the waist and pulling you in for a kiss as he pushes through the door.
Hands sliding up his stomach, past his chest to land on his broad shoulders, giving them a squeeze, pulling him closer to you as his lips press firmly against yours, tongue begging for entrance as it glides along your bottom lip, you grant him access, colliding the muscles together, his fingers digging into your waist, bunching your dress up, you moan into his mouth at the feeling of his lips pressing harder against yours, Ross pulls away from you briefly to close the door, backing you up against it again once it's closed. "Do you wanna go over to the bed for me?" Ross lowers his mouth to your ear, lips brushing against the joining of your neck and jaw as he whispers the words to you. You don't trust your voice, settling for a nod of the head, slipping off your heals, making Ross tower over you even more, he can't help himself but raise one of his hands to caress your cheek, leaning down to peck you, the new height difference fuelling something inside him, he felt the need to hold and protect you. You pull apart and walk over to his neatly made bed, feeling bad for the maid who would inevitably have to clean up your mess the next day. You sit down in the middle of the bed, hands pawing at the soft fabric of the duvet beneath you. Ross comes to stand in front of you, kneeling on the, shuffling closer to you, out of instinct your legs parted for him, making him smirk. His rough hands hind their way to either sides of your legs, stopping under your knees, he feels the silky skin of your thighs under his finger tips, running them up and down the length of your bent legs. Your eyes bore into his from your seated position, hands leaving the mattress to find the top button of his dress shirt, beginning to un pop each button, his eyes watch your fingers carefully as they move along each button, slowly and skilfully undoing each one, until you reach the bottom, hands making their way back up his now uncovered stomach, hairy chest, to land on his shoulders, gently pushing the fabric down his back so it hung off him loosely.
You notice the small gold chain that laid flat around his neck, one of your hands reaching round, fingers delicately playing with the metal, you take a hold of it between your fingers and gently tug him towards yourself, stretching your top half up to meet him in a hungry kiss, he moans into your mouth at the feeling of the cold metal digging into his skin, and the way your fingers clench at his shoulder, as if to feel him closer. His grip on the back of your legs tightens, he manoeuvres himself to settle fully between your legs, resting a hand on your back as he pushes the two of you back until you reach the mattress. Your lips moving together in sync, drawing moans and gasps form one another as he pressed you further into the mattress, lowering himself on top of you, your hand reaches behind his head, gripping onto the bun, tugging at the strands, feeling the soft hair wrap around your fingers, and loving the sound the sound that falls from his lips when you deliver a particularly harsh pull. His tongue traces your bottom lip, drawing a line, from your lips and licking down your neck, your head rolls to the side, at the tingly feeling surging through you.
Ross's hands skim over the fabric of your dress, stopping at the bottom, where it had bunched up at your waist, lifting it up further revealing the lace of your underwear, his breath hitching noticing the wet patch gathering, he continues to drag the fabric up, you sitting up to help him rid you of the barrier, he throws the garment to the floor, the second it's off your body, admiring your bare chest, loving the fact you opted out of wearing a bra for the night. Feeling like a teenage boy seeing boobs for the first time, absolutely mesmerised, a hand reaches up to cup your left breast, palming at the soft skin, running his thumb across your nipple, feeling it pebble beneath his touch, he squeezes again earning a breathy moan, and your back arching, practically falling into his hand. His other hand grazes your jaw, thumb running along your bottom lip, watching the way your eyes close briefly in pleasure under his actions. "Does that feel good darlin?" his words come out an octave lower than before, making you putty in his hands (quite literally) "yes" you whisper the words out not trusting your voice. He lays you down once more, leaning forwards sprinkling kisses along your chest, down your abdomen, nipping at your hipbone, and kissing along your inner thigh, placing a kiss to your clothed core, the sensation sending shivers down your spine. He continues kissing over the soft spot, laying his tongue out flat licking up the wetness that had gathered on the front of your underwear, groaning to himself at the taste, his fingers dig into the sides of your knickers dragging them down your legs, revealing perhaps the most obscene view he had ever laid his eyes upon, you laid back, head tilted up to the ceiling, tits perky, back arched up, legs spread and pussy dripping, all for him.
"You look fucking divine darling, tell me what you want" his hands are all over your body, unable to settle on one spot, occasionally squeezing in a spot he finds particularly tantalizing. "You... your fingers, anything I just need to feel you" You grab at one of his hands bringing it to your entrance, watching a sly smile absorb his face as you guide two of his fingers inside you, mouth falling open and whining as he pushes them in fully to his knuckles, hooking them upwards, feeling you tighten around him. He pumps rhythmically, other hand grasping onto your hip, hooking your leg around his waist in his seated position. Your eyes meet, and you swear you could fall apart right there from just the look alone, his big brown eyes boring into yours, scanning your face intently for traces of pleasure, as he works away below you. Your eyes roll back as his actions speed up setting a new thunderous pace, feeling your walls contracting around him each time he thrust his fingers inside you, his thumb reached up and began rubbing circles on your clit, gaining a lewd moan of his name, which he would die to hear again, circling the bud with more ferocity, to match the pace of the fingers inside you, the tense feeling building in the pit of your stomach, begging for release. "Are you gonna cum for me like a good girl?" your nails claw at his wrist, the other hand clinging onto the duvet for dear life. Your head nodding, turning to the side and lulling back all at once, too far gone to comprehend your actions. You feel his fingers hitting and curling upwards one last time sending you spiralling, your legs clench around his waist, walls contracting around his fingers as he continues to pump you through your orgasm, "Ross, need you" you moan out, tugging on his arm until he was close enough to crash his lips back to yours, the connection feeling warm and passionate, he withdraws his fingers from you lifting them between the pair of you, licking one finger himself, slipping the other past your lips, allowing you so suck the juices off from the digit, moaning as your tongue swirls around, keeping heavy eye contact as you suck his digit clean, he pulls his finger from your lips, hand moving around the back of your neck, attaching his lips to yours again.
"Do you wanna carry on?" Ross mumbles against your lips, feeling himself painfully hard in his trousers, "God please don't stop" clutching his shoulders you sit up, flipping the two of you so you were straddling his lap. You wanted to burn this sight into your brain for the rest of your life. His hair messy and falling out of his bun, shirt undone, dick hard in his trousers pressing against you. He raised an arm to lay under his head as he watches you with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. You fingers trace over the top of his trousers, stopping at the button, looking up at him through your lashes to ask permission, his head nods slowly, enjoying the sight of you taking control, knowing fully well he could take it back any moment. You popped the button undone and slid the zipper down, pulling them down slightly, along with his boxers to reveal himself to you. Your mouth watering at the sight of his cock leaking with precum and throbbing in your hand.
You pumped him a few times, listening as his breath goes rigid when you raise yourself upwards, sinking down onto him in one swift motion. His eyes rolling back, large hands making their home on your hips, digging into the skin as you start to bounce up and down on his shaft. He loves every little moan and gasp that leaves your mouth as you fuck you self on him, hands firmly placed on his stomach to balance yourself. “You feel so good Ross” you gasp arching your back, hair cascading down, becoming sticky with sweat. Ross thrusts up inside you, encouraging you to set a faster pace, “come on baby, you can do better than that, I wanna feel you cum for me again, be a good girl” the words are lost to your deaf ears, only caring about the groan that leaves his lips when you fuck yourself even harder on him, pulling him up by his shoulders and finally ridding him of his shirt, your fingers claw at his back as he continues to thrust up into you, you circle your hips, feeling your clit rub against his pubic bone, you continue the action feeling your walls clench and the knot tighten in the pit of your stomach. Ross’s hands trace a pattern up your back, one hand clutching your jaw as he pulls you in for a kiss, wet, sloppy and still tasting the remains of your juices on his tongue. You can’t help but to moan his name over and over into his mouth like a mantra. “I can feel you’re close, let go for me” his words are spoken between broken kisses and hushed moans, feeling you clenching around him.
All you can do is nod, forehead leaning against his as he holds your hips down delivering a particularly harsh thrust, he feels the spasm of your walls crashing around him, and your legs shake as what feels like the most earth shattering orgasm hits your system. “Good girl” he whispers, planting a kiss to the side of your head. Suddenly you’re being flipped again, onto your stomach, ass up in the air and Ross is between your legs once more. You’re not sure you’re ready for what’s to come when you feel him slam his length back inside you. Hand making contact with your right cheek as you pull away slightly, unintentionally awakening something in you, at the all but pornographic moan you emit. Your head flicks back to make eye contact with Ross, who was wearing the most sinister smirk you think you may have ever seen. All at once his hips are roughly pounding into your arse as, hands holding them in place while he fucks you roughly and thoroughly. Your top half falls limp feeling exhausted from exerting yourself as you cling onto the quilt, knuckles turning white. The sound in the room was obscene, anyone walking in the hallway would know what was going on, the bed was rocking, slamming into the wall, Ross was grunting and moaning away above you while you gasped and screamed out his praises, you could only pray that the people in the room next to you were out. His dick pounded into the sweet spongy spot inside you repeatedly building that all familiar knot once more, not sure you could handle much more you cry out for him, eyes watering, pressing the tears away into the pillows. “Ross…please..I” your brain can’t comprehend words too fucked out to form any real sentence. “You can take it, be a good girl, one more, then you’re done okay?” His hand sweetly moved some hair out your face to check you’re okay, a sweet juxtaposition to the actions of his hips pounding away at you. He leant forward placing a kiss at the top of your back as he continued to hit away that spot inside you, “well done, good girl” you feel the fire ignite in your belly once, clenching around his dick feeling your juices flowing, you could feel him pulsating inside you knowing what was about to happen, you contact your walls around him once more milking him for everything he had, hearing him moan your name loudly for all to hear, he stilled inside you as he emptied his load before pulling out slowly flopping down next to you on the bed with a humph.
You roll onto your back turning your head to face him, his fingers brush away the hair that had fallen into your face, admiring your beauty once more. You smile at him and lean in to peck his lips, fingers softly running though his beard. “That has to be the best sex I’ve ever had” you sigh and giggle looking away from his eyes at your confession. “Mmm me too, I can die happy now” you laugh as he slings an arm over your stomach pulling you into his side, you look up at his face and can’t contain your smile. He presses a kiss onto your shoulder, and settles back on the bed, expecting you to lean back with him, but you don’t, you sit up, looking around on the floor to reach for your clothes, Ross frowns. “I should probably get going” you turn to Ross once you’ve slipped your dress over your head. He finds his hand reaching out for you “oh okay, um sure…” it was the first time you had seen him at a loss for words, “I’m just gonna use the bathroom” you give him a awkward smile, crossing the room to the bathroom and closing the door, you freshen yourself up and notice your flushed cheeks and messy hair in the mirror, you look well and truly fucked. Well you had been.
You run your fingers through your hair, splashing some cold water on your face before exiting the room, seeing Ross now standing in the middle of the room, his trousers are done back up and he now has on a T-shirt instead of his button down. You walk over to him, unsure of either of your next moves. “You can stay if you’d like, I don’t want you to feel like you have to leave because you don’t” his words trail off, eyes glued to the ground almost as if he was afraid of your answer. “I uh, I’ve never done this before, I assumed you’d want me to leave” you take a step closer to him, head tilting so you can meet his eyes. “No, I want you to stay, if you want to that is, don’t feel like yo-“ you take another step forwards and attach your lips to his once more, feeling him relax under your touch.
That’s how it all started. Ross was in town visiting friends for a few weeks on a break from tour before going back to America. So you two agreed that while he was in town the two of you would meet up and have some casual fun, however what was supposed to be just a fling, or hanging out a couple of times turned into every night huddled up in each others arms after hours of exhausting sex, exploring each others bodies, learning how to make each other feel good, and learning everything about one another. It was like Ross had a fixation with her, the second they were apart, he wanted her close again. They had spent their time doing novice things like visiting garden centres and book stores, hiding from friends when they saw them crossing the street, then giggling like school children if they nearly got caught, but they promised each other just until tour restarts so no one gets hurt.
The day did finally come for Ross to leave and you’d spent the night before in his arms telling him how much you’ll miss him and begging him to promise to stay friends with you, to which he kissed you so hard it knocked the air out your lungs. And you thought in your mind that when he left that would be it, just a bittersweet memory of your time spent with the bass player, but when your phone wouldn’t stop dinging with the back and forth text messages every day you couldn’t help but feel hopeful. He’d been gone a month, the both of you never failing to message everyday and call when you can when Matty noticed something was up. The once sociable Ross kept hiding himself away, quieter than usual, always staring at phone, and when it did finally ring or buzz, he couldn’t help but notice the smile that reached his best friends face, he looked like a Cheshire Cat. But there was one day where Ross just moped around, not saying a word to anyone, barely eating, and he hardly interacted with the crowd when they performed that night. The band were in their dressing room after the show having a drink all chatting and praising each other feeling the after show high, bar one, Ross was skunked in the corner on a sofa staring at his phone, Matty watched as the taller man shook his head and made his way out the room, leaving his phone behind on the sofa. He knew it was wrong but the way he’s been staring at his phone for weeks has given Matty his suspicions, walking across the room sitting where Ross once occupied the seat. Seeing Ross had left his phone unlocked he took a quick glance, instantly tapping on his text messages, seeing the first name that popped up being an unfamiliar name, he clicked on the messages, and clearly he had found the source of Ross’s discontentment that day.
Y/n 🖤 - I hope the tours going well I miss you xx
Ross - it’s going great, would be better if you were here tho, I miss that beautiful face xx
Y/n🖤 - I wish lol xx
Ross - please come, I’ll send you ticket, I really wanna see you babe xx
Y/n 🖤- Ross, you know what we said, besides what would everyone think of you bringing a random girl on tour with you! Xx
Ross - I know we said it was just a fling but I want you, I miss you too much, and the guys would love you, please just think about it? Xxx
- message read
Matty looked at the name and the photo attached in his friends phone, feeling giddy at the thought of his friend having a secret girlfriend, he sneakily puts your number in his phone dropping the phone back to the arm of the sofa before standing to join the other boys.
———
Another week passes and you dodge the topic tour all together when you speak on the phone, at least you try your hardest. It’s another late night for him, early morning for you spending as time talking to each other, wanting to hear each others voices. Ross can’t help but feel how deeply he missed seeing the way your lips would move with each word you would annunciate. He missed watching your smile light up until it reached your eyes and he missed the pretty sounds you made, just for him. He would give anything to have you close again.
“Sorry what did you say, babe?” His voice relaxed finally hearing the soothing tones of your voice in his ears he forgot to listen to what you were saying. “ I said I saw some videos of you the other night, you looked really good, like you’re having fun” he waits a few seconds before replying knowing he’ll get reprimanded for it. “I’d be having a lot more fun, if a certain someone I know would come along” he sighs dramatically, head resting back on his pillow as he daydreams about the girl on the other end of the phone. He just hears you chuckling, picturing you shaking your head, “I have to get ready for work soon” you wished you didn’t. “Don’t go, come back to bed, we’ll cuddle a bit longer” Ross sighs eyes shutting at the thought of you being with him in his bed. “You know, I cuddle your jumper every night, it’s starting to smell like me instead of you though, it’s making me sad” you admit, pouting as if he can see it through the phone. “God I would give anything to touch you right now” you gasp at his words he can hear you biting your lip through the phone and it drives him wild. “Not even like that, I just miss holding you, feeling your skin on mine, I don’t think you realise how much I miss you, I really care about you y/n”
————
After that night Ross finds himself in a bit of a slump, he had tried his best to push his feelings down but the more he did that the more they grew. And even though you were both making the effort, the calls and the messages just weren’t enough. He longed to be near you and didn’t realise that being without you was bringing him down. He was messing up on stage, missing cues and looking miserable and the band noticed, trying to cheer him up onstage to no avail. The person that would cheer him up was thousands of miles away blissfully unaware of the affect she had on him. After 3 consecutive nights of fluffing up on stage Matty confronted the tall bearded man, much to his surprise.
“Hey man, what’s going on?” He decided to keep things simple, afraid he’d aggravate the man. “Nothin, just missing someone I guess” he draws out, taking a sip of his drink, subconsciously tapping his phone while he thinks about you, Matty notices, “anyone in particular?” He pushes, tilting his head to the side hoping his friend would finally open up to him about the mystery girl he has been messaging. “It’s uh…” he sighs shaking his head thinking for a moment “no one, just family, you know how it is” Ross stands from his place on the sofa, clutching his phone in his hand tightly, nodding his head to Matty, before walking off out the room, head in is phone.
You were asleep when your phone began ringing on top your beside table, you groan as it carries on ringing, the caller relentless to speak to you apparently, you click the green button before seeing it was an unknown number calling giving them a very groggy “hello” down the line. “Is this y/n” you hear the other person speak, “yeah, uh who is this? And why are you calling me at 3am?” You question flinching as your phone screen brightens to find out the time. “Oh shit sorry about that, I always forget about time zones, it’s Matty, Ross’s friend, from the band…” it takes your tired brain a second to comprehend what he’s saying before it clicks. “Oh right, hello Matty” he laughs, a bit too loud for your liking, you wince pulling the phone away from your ear. “Uh basically I’m calling because Ross has been super down the last couple of weeks, and really isn��t himself, and I think he really misses you” you almost jump up in your bed, “he’s spoken about me?!” Matty chuckles shaking his head, if she was as mushy about him as his friend was they were a match made in heaven. “Indirectly, he just keeps moping around waiting for his phone to go off all day and if it doesn’t he looks like he could cry…anyway I was wondering if I could sort you out a plane ticket and get you out here to surprise him?” You could feel your heart beating fast in your chest at the thought, and before your brain could say no your mouth was saying “yes!”
-
Matty had picked you up at the airport telling the guys he had some ‘business to attend to’ then not really caring what that meant to question it. Ross had been messaging all day but had received no response, making him worry. And when he tired to call it went straight to voicemail, had something happened or were you angry with him about something, his head was reeling and he felt like he could pass out. They were performing a few shows at the same venue, opting to stay in a hotel for the week instead of the usual bus, which you had been glad to hear about, not liking your chances with squeezing into a bunk with your giant of a man. Ross was sitting impatiently on his bed in his hotel room staring at his phone, waiting for the read receipts to appear next to his text messages when there’s a knock on his door. He huffs and drops his phone reaching the door in a matter of seconds. Eyes nearly popping out of their sockets when he spots you behind the door. In the flesh. “Hi” he doesn’t respond or acknowledge Matty standing next to you holding your bags, he lurches forwards lifting you into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist, your hands find their way to his hair and beard, combing through the locks, noticing both had gotten a bit longer. “Hi” he finally says, lips pressing to yours with so much passion. His arms around you squeezed you as you kissed making sure you were really there. Matty stood awkwardly before dropping your bag walking down the hallway muttering “so much for thank you Matty” shaking his head laughing. Ross pulls away to laugh resting his head back against the door frame “thanks Matt, appreciate it” he shouts to his friend, who in return waves the pair of you off, entering another room on the floor. Ross sets you back on the ground, hands flying to your face, brushing hairs out the way, and caressing your cheeks. “I’m not even gonna ask why, or how, just gonna thank god because I’ve missed you so much” he kisses you once more and you feel everything he gives you in the kiss, all the hurt he’s been feeling, all the joy he feels now, and you want to feel everything. “Come on Mrs, let me show you how much I lov- miss you” you’re eyes widen, biting your lip as you excitedly follow him into his room.
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domestic fluff with ross after he comes from tour?
A/n: I'm so sorry but I combined two asks together.... I am absolutely feral for Ross so unfortunately everything I write turns into smut
You had been waiting way too long to be reunited with the tall, handsome man you were lucky enough to call yours.
It had felt like years since you last saw him, you had been counting the days until you'd next see him again. They had just finished the first leg of their tour and you were beyond excited to see your partner. The endless facetime sessions and late night calls were simply not enough.
Ross told you their plane was landing at 2PM, you offered to meet them at the airport as you wanted to say hello to the guys. But they informed you they would be round within the week to have dinner with you both and they didn't want you overwhelmed by the amount of fans that usually show up to greet them.
So you waited at home, eventually getting too angsty waiting for him around 11AM so you decided to do a little shopping spree of all of Ross' favorite things.
You arrived back home at 1PM, opening the door to your shared house, you smelt the familiar scent of your boyfriend as soon as you entered the house, not thinking much into it at first. You walked into the kitchen, his bags left by the door completely ignored by your brain. You had got so used to not seeing his things scattered around that your brain didn't quite register it quick enough.
You set the groceries down on the counter, pausing for a moment. What you had just seen and smelt finally caught up to your brain and you gasped, rushing out to the hallway, he must have heard your ruckus as you heard a deep chuckle coming from the living room.
You rushed into the room, finding your awaiting boyfriend standing in the centre of the room.
"Was wondering how long it would take you to figure out" he said, laughing to himself. Your body quickly found this, all but jumping into his arms, legs wrapping round his waist as he held you up.
"You're back!" You gasped into his neck. He clung to you, holding you right within his grasp.
"I'm back! We set off early" he explained, the smile on his face, not that you could see it, was a massive one, the dimples popping out on his cheek and his eyes creasing with how wide he was smiling.
"I missed you so much baby" you say, pulling back to look at him, your eyes soften over his features, tears coming to your eyes. Your fingertips find his beard, which has grown quite a bit since you last saw him. Your eyes take in his features, he looks tired but undoubtedly like your Ross. Your eyes finally find his lips, the smile resting on them was one you had missed dearly.
"It's unreal how much I missed you" he says softly, your fingertips still playing with his beard.
"Can't get over how long your beard has gotten" you say softly. He chuckles, eyes drifting down to your lips, he then realises that he hasn't even kissed you yet.
"I know, like it?" He says and he laughs as he sees your eyebrows furrow in contemplation.
"Looks good..." You say but he senses some hesitation.
"But?" He asks, you slowly lean down and he knows what's coming, he sighs as your lips meet his. The kiss is firm and passionate, having gone months without one he's reluctant to let you go. After a few moments of soft pecks his tongue slips past your lips and meets yours. He groans into your mouth as you sigh, his arms move around you, gently setting you back on the ground, your lips part momentarily before he quickly connects them again, he has to lean down quite a bit to do so but he couldn't care less.
You pull away a moment later, his lips chasing yours searching for the taste of you which he's missed so much. The act makes you chuckle.
"Thought it would be itchy but it's nice" you say, fingers pulling his chin to yours for one last quick peck.
You find yourselves on the sofa a little while later, your cushioned against him, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, keeping you close. His bags sit unpacked next to the door still and you realise you left the groceries unpacked in the kitchen. But you can't find it in you to care.
You catch up on everything, how the tour went, how works been for you, what you've been up to: everything. Eventually the both of you don't say much, you just find yourselves staring at each other, occasionally one of you mentioned how much you missed the other. Many soft (and not so soft) kisses were had.
He tells you he really needs to unpack his bags so you both head upstairs, the two of you unpacking his clothes, hanging up the clean ones and making a pile for the ones that needed to get washed.
At some point you slip on a shirt of his, it smells like him and he smirks at the site. His arms wrap around your waist as you place some of his things on the side. His lips find your neck and he places soft kisses there.
"I'm so happy to be back" he mumbles into your skin. Your hand comes up to find his hair and you lace your fingers through it.
"I'm unbelievably happy too baby" you say, turning around in his arms.
"I love you so much, honestly the boys were getting sick and tired of hearing me moan about how much I missed you" he places a kiss on your forehead then and your eyes flutter shut as your stomach flips at his words.
"I love you too. And I know, they kept texting me, told me to get my arse over to where you were so you would stop complaining" and then he's laughing the laugh you missed all too much. You hear his belly rumble and you smile up at him, his fingertips drifting softly along your cheekbone.
"Want me to cook you some food?" He groans at that sound of that, having missed your cooking so much.
"Yes please" he asks nicely before pecking your lips again.
"I'm going to finish unpacking and have a quick shower, that alright?" He asks and you nod but frown slightly.
"What's up?" He asks.
"Was kind of hoping I could shower with you" you say and he smirks down at you, coming to whisper in your ear.
"Once I'm done with you we'll both need to shower again" his words make you sigh in to him before his pulling away to place a contrast soft kiss to your forehead. He leaves you after that, showering as you make your way to the kitchen, beginning to cook his favourite meal.
You listen to bfiafl, dancing around the kitchen as you chop and cook different ingredients. At some point, he comes down stairs, leaning against the door frame and he just stares at you: dancing around in your kitchen to his music.
You can smell his freshly washed hair but you don't turn to look at him, letting him bask in everything that was you, on his own for a few minutes.
He comes behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.
"Smells heavenly love" he says, pressing a ray of kisses to your cheek and neck.
"As do you love" you say, weaving a hand into his damp hair.
"Your hairs got longer too" you state simply.
"Mhmm" he says into your neck, swaying both of you to the music.
"Need any help?" He asks, not moving from your neck, bruising his lips against them, making you groan out.
"With the cooking?" You ask and you can feel him shaking his head "no" into the crook of your neck.
His large hands drift down your waist, landing on your hips, he pushes you back into him and you gasp as you feel his member, plump and hard against the swell of your bum. His hands drift under your shirt, moving up the expanse of your stomach, taking up the whole surface with how large they are until he reaches the bottom of your lace bra. His fingertips hook underneath the fabric, moving until they're barely touching your nipple, making you sigh. His lips moved against your sweet spot, sucking at the skin there, teeth tugging it making you grip the counter in front of you.
"Missed you hun" he says and you nod "going to let me have it?" He asks and you're nodding vigorously as you instinctively push back into him, making the both of you groan in pleasure. His deep tone resonates within you, and he's quick to spin you around, taking handfuls of your arse into his large palms as he smears his lips against your own. His tongue makes light work of finding yours and he groans at the taste of you.
His lips are massaging perfectly against yours, tongue greedily moving against your own, relishing the taste of you which he has gone far too long without. Your hand slips into the back of his jumper, feeling the muscles move under your small hands as you run them along his skin.
"God I've missed you" he groans, hand moving behind you to turn off the stove. He's quick to pick you up then, carrying you easily up the stairs to your joint bedroom.
He places you softly onto your bed, worshiping your skin, hands drifting along anything he could touch, having been without you for so long. He's quick to rid you of your clothes and his, leaving you naked whilst he adorns his boxers still.
His mouth is quick to find yours again, meeting in a passionate kiss, his hands grasping at the bare skin of your waist. You easily manage to flip the both of you, making him chuckle at how strong you were.
"So strong for such a little thing" he murmurs against your mouth, he runs his hands over your chest as he says it. His hands find your breasts, massaging them as his lips wrap around your nipple causing you to rut against him. His other hand comes down to grasp your hips controlling your movements: encouraging you to continue to move against him.
"That's it, fuck" he grunts as your continue to grind down on him, tilting your head back as pleasure courses through your body. He needs more of you, being without it for so long has made him starved, so he quickly flips the both of you. He begins thrusting his clothed erections against you, making you sigh, grasping his hair harshly, needing him closer to you.
"I need you Ross" you sigh, lips claiming his as your own. He drifts along your breasts, tongue poking out occasionally, leaving a damp trail in its tracks. He's tempting your thighs apart, placing kisses against your inner thighs, making your hips raise off the bed. He pins them down before placing a teasing kiss against your clit, earning a gasp from you.
"So wet for me, god i've missed you" he says and you truly do not know how many times he's said those words now but god you cant get enough.
"This what you wanted love?" he asks and you're quickly nodding impatiently. His lips are then finding their place against your mound, sucking your clit into his mouth.
"fuck Ross" you say, his slightly longer beard adding a delicious burn to the already euphoric pleasure.
Your back is arching against the bed, moaning his name repeatedly as his tongue moves languidly against your wet center. You're almost screaming in pleasure now as his tongue pushes against your folds.
"Missed how you taste" he admits and the confession has you drawing ever closer to the edge. His clothed cock is twitching against the confides of his underwear, seeing you this blissed out is somehow making him harder and he knows he needs you and soon.
"Lovie I need you, that okay?" he's asking and your pulling him up to you then, pushing his boxers off and wrapping your hand around his large member, the drops of precum drizzling from his swollen head. His forehead presses against yours as he watches your small hand moving against his cock.
"Need you" you repeat again and he doesn't need to be told twice. He threads the head of him into your entrance, making you both gasp before he's suddenly pushing into your tight folds.
"Oh fuck" he groans, taking your lips into yours, pouring his love into you.
"How did I go without you for so long?" he asks and you groan against him, your voice broken from the pleasure. He pulls almost all the way out before he's pushing softly back in, repeating the action again until you're arching your back and meeting his hips with your own movements, moans and curses and his name repeatedly falling from your lips. His deep grunts can be heard in your ear and your name falls from his lips too, along with I miss yous and god i love yous.
His thrusts are deep and purposeful and he's suddenly angling your hips up, thrusting against your g-spot with every calculated strike of his hips.
"Ross" you moan, clinging to his large shoulders. You feel the muscles contract under your touch, so receptive to you.
"I love you sweetheart" he says, his words sweet. His movements slow down, wanting to take his time with you, wanting to show you how much he missed you, how much he needed you every waking moment, how being without was agony. His dark brown orbs find yours and they tell you everything you need to know.
Your hands gently find his face, pulling him into a passionate kiss as he continues to angle his hips upwards in slow, deliberate thrusts.
"I love you too Ross" you finally say, making his movements waver.
"Lovie" he says and you know he's close, you are too. Being without your soulmate for so long has you both desperate, the need for each other needing to be quenched.
"Let go for me Ross" you say, voice airy as your own high draws closer. His thumb finds your clit, circling it as his hips stutter forward as he reaches his peak, a long drawn out whimper of your name delivered into your neck.
You sigh out his name as his lips find yours, your own high approaching until your falling off the edge. He holds you through it, not ready to let you go quite yet.
You cuddle thereafter, Ross never taking his hands off you, needing to commit every part of you to memory, hoping it would make the next time you were apart easier (which of course it never does).
"Going to make you my wife one day, you know that right?" He says, his words making your heart skip a bit.
"Will be the most beautiful wife" he says, sleepy eyes finding yours.
"And you the most handsome husband" you say before his snores are filling the room.
#ross macdonald#the 1975 fanfic#ross macdonald x reader#ross the 1975#ross macdonald smut#ross mcdonald fanfic#ross macdonald imagine#ross macdonald one shot#ross x reader#ross macdonald fluff#the 1975 fic#the 1975 smut#the 1975 x reader
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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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Romantic Rooftop
Request from @mimi33p Ross and y/n are hanging out on the rooftop because they both can't sleep and then Ross ends up confessing his love for her
Stepping out onto the roof outside Monica's apartment I sighed not being able to fall asleep. Our whole gang decided to have a sleep over and watch movies since it was a holiday tomorrow morning. Resting my elbows on the ledge I kept my gaze towards the street otherwise I would see the naked guy who is across the street in his apartment. I didn't want to picture that in my dreams if I managed to get any sleep tonight. "You can't sleep either huh?" Whipping my head around I gripped the ledge a little scared at hearing the voice of Ross come outside too. "Oh uh - hi Ross. Yeah...how about you?" I stuttered holding in a huge smile towards him.
"Same. Joey kept trying to cuddle up against me on the couch. I couldn't take that anymore." He replied coming to stand beside me leaning against the ledge looking out onto the city streets at night. Playing with my fingers I bite my tongue trying not to blush that we're alone like this. You see the thing that's bad about this situation is that I have a huge crush on him. I could just get brave and confess but I know he's in love with Rachel. They have been this on and off again thing for years. Monica and Phoebe's are kinda giving up that they'll stay together long the next time they want to be together. "Hey Y/n, there's something I need to tell - uh ask you." Ross nervously chuckled making me finally look him in the eye seeing he is blushing in the very dark lights.
Leaning my back against the wall I twirl a piece of my hair trying to wrap my around why he would be stuttering around me. As far as I know it must be something with Rachel. It's always been Ross and Rachel. "What do you want to tell me, Ross?" I asked seeing him run a hand through his hair. "I uh - I have a crush on you. I have for awhile now actually." My mouth immediately hung open hearing his confession. "But what about you and Rachel?" Biting my tongue I regretted the words coming out. He stepped up closing the gap between us suddenly kissing me. I smiled wrapping my arms around his neck kissing back. "I thought she was the one for me. But I realized I couldn't stop thinking about you." He replied before I pulled him in for another kiss.
Comments really appreciated 😊
#ross geller#ross geller x reader#friends#friends x reader#requests open#ask box is open for anything#send requests to my ask box#comments really appreciated#ross x reader#ross geller imagine
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Imagines
Ross with a s/o
Id like to imagine he is super shy whenever it comes to relationships that aren't platonic
Like with friends: Oh yea I'm chill I'm vibing
With you: "O-Oh uhm Hi. My name is- uh- Ross and-"
He is super shy and awkward around those he has feelings for
And this does continue into an actual relationship, though as time goes on its not that much
He really wants to impress you with things so he ends up doing the same things you do so you'll think he has more common interests
He might hate the thing, but he'll suck it up for you
He likes buying you candy all the time, especially for bad days where he knows just a piece of chocolate or a packet of skittles will cheer you up
Super shy with PDA, prefers to keep it behind closed doors
When he is affectionate, he will act similar to a cat
Nuzzles up on you, kisses on your face, laying in your lap, list goes on
He can't help himself
Would be super supportive
Yes, you can wear the beanie. Yes you can touch his hair
He loves writing things like novels, short stories, and especially poems. Often he will hand them to you for critiques and in exchange will critique your work
He may not be incredibly funny, but he does try to make you laugh
Kiss him. Do it. Congratulations, you get a flustered Ross.
And flustered Ross is just shy Ross but 10 times more cuter and embarrassed
Kevin will tease him
Meanwhile Juane and Jack in the background like "Yay our son has a s/o!"
During school, he unintentionally ignores you
Its not that he is being mean, but his schoolwork means so much to him
But that doesn't mean he still won't give you attention during school
For example, he sits next to you or in the same table in most of his classes
He sits with you always at lunch and hangs our during breaks
He studies with you
He just wants to make sure both his academics are where he wants them to be and his s/o is happy as always
Ross doesn't get jealous often. If it's all chill and vibing, he's vibing
If he does see someone flirting with you, he makes it known that you are his s/o, not anyone elses
Usually just by holding your hand, calling you petnames, giving you not so subtle kisses, things like that
Speaking of petnames-
He doesn't really call you much petnames, he just likes to call you by your name
But when he is feeling affectionate, he loves calling you things like love, hon, darling, and, his personal favorite, Rosa
He loves kissing you so much
His favorite place is your forehead and your cheek
He will compliment you all the damn time
You are his pretty s/o, and he never let's you forget that
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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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Heyyy so a scenario/headcanon thing I decided to do for my first spooky month x reader thing.
Summary: I missed it yesterday due to me being overcome with a fever, but this is basically just what it would be like on valentines day for some of the characters.
(And yes, I know this is a bit cringe compared to my other works, but I'm a dorky romantic and can't exactly help it, so I apologize, the angst will be back soon to make up for this shit. /lh)
———
Roy(do not read this if you arent around his age):
- I feel as if it would really depend on if you two were dating or not, had he been crushing on you anyway. Had you two not dating, he most likely would have just asked you to be his valentine like any normal partner.
- Had you two not been dating, I feel as if the poor boy would most likely be a little hesitant about it. You two would most likely be close friends by the time he had been crushing on you, and had already been considering perhaps doing something for you on valentines day. But of course, crushing brings hesitation, and he would become increasingly frustrated with his lack of confidence in what he longed to do since the moment he had seen you. To let out his feelings, and let you know of how he had felt.
- Even so, his lack of confidence would most likely get in the way of him actually doing anything, even though he had thought about it a million times. His face would grow red as he thought about it, he knew he could easily purchase you gifts and grab the right things with his money, but what would his parents think? What would you think? If anything, he was more scared of being rejected by you.
- Robert and Ross—if they hadn't already known about him liking you, would most likely only find out that he liked you due to him venting out his frustrations about wanting to do something for you on the upcoming day. They would most likely encourage him, and would even come with him to stores so he could purchase stuff. Though when he came to the CandyClub, the Candy Kid(Kevin) gave him a suspicious look from the last time he had been there, considering he stole candy for the hell of it. Kevin would eventually surprisingly come to just leave Roy alone this time though, seeing as he was acting oddly.. different. Especially with the fact that he would repeatedly ask his friends; "Do you think they'll like this?" "Do you think they'd like this?" "Is this gonna be enough?"
- Roy and the other two would most likely go on more adventures to random stores afterwards, since he would probably buy you more stuff than just candy, and would probably even buy stuff that he noticed you liked. He could easily buy you gifts, and he knew this. But what was to tell him that you liked him back? What was to tell you'd accept being his valentine?
- Upon the fated day, he would most likely be very nervous, holding all of the stuff he had bought for you in his arms. Depending on if that day had been a school day or not, it could go two ways. If it was a school day, you'd most likely be sitting near him, noticing his odd behavior—zoning out, catching him staring at you, him being red-faced. He would seem almost hesitant anytime he spoke to you. If it were a normal day, this behavior wouldn't vanish, though instead, he would invite you for a "hangout". You didn't suspect a thing, though a slight hint of suspicion crawled up in your mind when you realized he had invited you to spend time with him on today of all days.
- If it had been a school day, there would be a chance of him randomly inviting you to hang out with him after school, seeming almost on the verge of screaming as he averted his gaze nervously away from you—you would accept, though would be slightly concerned with his odd behavior. But if it had not been, he'd most likely stall for time—since he was still nervous about the whole valentines thing, and didn't know if he really wanted to do this or not.
- And when he finally managed to spill the beans—out of his own nervousness, he would most likely stammer and stammer on, before basically thrusting everything he bought for you into your arms, and practically beginning to scream his feelings for you. He wouldn't mean to, he's just naturally aggressive and can't exactly express his feelings.. err, well. "Li—Listen, okay!" Roy would yell in an exasperated tone, "I like you goddammit, and—and I—and I mean it—so.. just.. just be my valentine, damnit!" Red-faced, he would most likely be embarrassed about him practically screaming his entire feelings aloud for the whole world to hear.
- Even so, you'd be in slight shock. What were you to choose? Would you accept his valentine, or not?
- ...
- Oh, who am I kidding—of course you'd accept it.
- With a soft smile, you'd accept his valentine—although a little nervous from his sudden outburst of frustration, taking the gifts he bought for you and showing your appreciation for the kind deeds he had done. Roy would most likely be flushed with bright red at this point, probably internally gushing over you in his mind and screaming—though externally, he would just be trying to hide the visible red on his face. As he would awkwardly attempt to reply to you, he would most likely make an attempt to hold your hand, and of course(unless you don't like physical affection), you'd hold it back, awkward yet adorable silence filling the air.
- For the entire rest of the day, you two would most likely spend it all together, your activities depending on what you would figure would be best. And for all of those love-filled hours, you wouldn't ever let go of the others hand. Love had filled you both up too much to actually do such a thing. It would most likely end with Roy staying over at your house, you two would be playing video games at night—late at night, I'd say, most likely until 2:00 AM, even with your parents insisting on you both getting sleep. You'd most likely wouldn't notice Roy ceasing to reply until a few seconds later, looking down, and seeing him resting upon your shoulder, sleeping comfortably. With a soft smile, you'd turn off the video game, and would get to rest yourself.
- This had been the best valentines day you had ever had, and the best valentine you had ever had.
Robert(do not read this if you arent around his age):
- This boy had probably been planning on this for a while, rejection being his biggest fear, but the thought of your face had been more powerful than the anxiety in his chest anytime he thought of the possible negative possibilities. He most likely would speak with Ross about this, since Roy had something to do that day, and couldn't exactly focus on Robert's romantic problems.
- Unlike Roy, he had not been rich, but even so, he'd try to do the best he could for you. He'd probably speak with Radford about it as well, asking him for advice. In the end, with the help of his older brother and his one friend that had been free that day, he would be prepared to go, and to ask you to be his valentine.
- He would probably awkwardly ask if he could hang out with you for the day, though it would be after school if this had been a school day. You'd notice his odd behavior, though maybe it had just been you noticing the small details about him again. After all, you had liked him just as much as he liked you—except maybe a little more than he liked you. His weirdly softly spoken tone, the light blush on his cheeks, constantly scratching the back of his head and sweating. You didn't dare ask, thinking it would be a rude question.
- You had noticed more odd behaviors from him that day as well—the constant soft smiles, the longing casual touches, the constant staring. You hadn't known if this had just been you noticing small details, or making stuff up, but even so, you couldn't keep yourself from blushing at it all for whatever reason. But in the end, you two would most likely go to see a movie—since that had been what he had been insistent on due to his brother working there, though you hadn't known why his brother seemed so weirdly smug when you two had walked in. You hadn't known why the movie Robert had chosen for you two to see had been a romantic comedy either, but either way, it was weirdly enjoyable.
- As you two watched, you'd keep glancing at him and then glancing back at the screen, hoping he wouldn't notice. As you would try to keep your eyes on the screen, you would subconsciously move your hand towards his, slightly feeling your fingers brush over his own. For a split second, you could swear you felt him gazing upon you, but a few seconds later, you began to feel his hand slipping under yours. Your palm was now on top of his hand, and your fingers had been clenched tightly but softly onto his hand. Your heart had never beat so fast in your life before.
- Afterwards, you two would most likely awkwardly walk out of the movie theater together, ignoring Radfords oddly smug yet encouraging stare. You two would most likely stand in front of the theater, awkwardly making small talk, the tension of what had happened while you two watched the movie filling the air—it had been awkward and short with unfinished sentences, until he had then said—"Uhhh.. there's been something I've been wanting to ask you."
- Upon asking what it had been, you found your face growing red as he explained. "Listen, man.. i.. I find you really cool—and—and I want to spend today with the coolest person I know.. so.." Holding out a card with a pink heart drawn onto it, and a chocolate bar he had borrowed from Radford—he would then awkwardly say, "be my valentine?" He sounded almost as if he were pleading at that last word. Even so, your face had gone bright red, you couldn't process what he had just told you. You would only nod, slightly panting out of disbelief, and would accept what he had asked of you. "Uh, okay! Heheh.. heh.." Robert would then awkwardly hold out his hand, and you would take it in your own, feeling the soft exterior of his hand. This had been awkward, sure.. you two had been flustered, sure.. but..
- This felt.. nice. Being with him felt nice. In the end, you two would spend the rest of the day together, and you'd most likely go back home with your heart thudding rapidly like that of a hummingbird. Even the way he said "bye" as you two had been finished with the day had made you gush over him like some mad fanboy/fangirl/crazy fan. Ignoring your parents teasing remarks, you'd go back to your bedroom, thinking about him. His face, his name, the way he looked, the way he talked, the way he carried himself.. him.
- You.. loved him. Deeply.
Ross(do not read this if you arent around his age):
- Calm, Ross had always been. Relaxed, he had always been. Yet when it came to you, he didn't know if he could be calm. Valentines Day was coming up soon, and he hadn't known what to do. You were his crush—he knew it would be the day that celebrated romantic love and it could be a chance at potentially asking you out, but for whatever reason, he had been so hesitant.
- Roy and Robert would most likely notice his odd behavior for the day—only realizing what had been up as they caught him longingly staring at you. Of course, Roy would be a teasing bastard about this, and would most likely mess with him. Ross would say he hadn't known how to ask you out—since he well.. didn't. So his two friends would attempt to help him out, though Roy would be slightly less helpful due to him having less experience with romantic situations. Robert would most likely help the most, since I do headcanon him to be basically that one kid in school that everyone has a crush on. I even kind of headcanon that Roy might have had a tiny crush on him at some point lmao.
- Ross most likely wouldn't buy anything too show-offy, but would most likely buy at least one thing, which would be something you liked. Something you adored. Perhaps something you had been wanting for a long time. His friends most likely wouldn't help with that, but his mother sure would once he found out. She would take great pride in embarrassing him, even if she was trying her best to be a cool mom. Jaune would probably have stars in her eyes the moment Ross had even told her he had been showing romantic interest in someone he knew.
- In the end, Ross would most likely approach you randomly on the fated valentines day, a light pink being brushed across his cheeks. He most likely wouldn't ask to spend time with you like the other two, and would probably try to get straight to the point as best as he could. "Theres.. been something I've been wanting to ask you, dude." He'd say, staring at the ground and looking hesitant. You'd ask what it had been exactly that he wanted to tell you, what it had been that he longed to tell you so.
- "I was just.. wanting to know if.. if you wanted to.." Ross would slightly hesitate before speaking up, "if you wanted to be my valentine.. if that's okay with you." You'd probably not process this for a few seconds, though your face would turn pastel pink as soon as you realized. "Oh, uh.. sure." You'd say, looking to the ground yourself. Awkward silence would fill the air for a few seconds, but he would then express happiness at you accepting it. "Really? Th—Thanks, dude.." He'd smile, looking at you with adoring yet grateful eyes. Jaune would most likely be watching from afar, trying to keep her cheers in so she wouldn't embarrass her son.
- "Do.. do you wanna go do something together?" You asked, avoiding eye contact. "Sur—Sure, dude.." He would awkwardly smile as you took his hand in yours, and for a few seconds, you two would stand there in awkward silence. As you two walked off together, and desperately tried to ignore the distant sounds of motherly squealing, you would feel grateful for how the other reacted. And in the end, once Ross had taken you home—before you went back into your house, he would hesitantly hold you in his arms, and embrace you in an awkward fashion. For a few seconds, you would both hesitate letting go, wanting to be in the others embrace forever.
- And when he let go, and left you a fair farewell as he departed, you'd find yourself longing for more. This day.. had been the happiest of your life.
Kevin:
- You were most likely a frequent customer turned friend, most likely coming over always to see Kevin, and for the sake of getting candy as well. Yet even with the short time you had been in Kevin's life, he had found himself developing a small crush on you. Better yet, that fateful romantic day was approaching soon. February 14th. Valentines Day. Yet he hated that holiday so, and had no idea of any sort of romantic things he could possibly do that would woo you. He had a lack of confidence in himself, and in the possibility of you liking him back.
- If anything, he had been planning on just letting that day pass, feeling already negative about that sort of possibility anyway. It wasnt as if he thought you liked him back anyway. But when that day came, he found himself pleasantly surprised when a sudden burst of confidence pulsed through his veins during one of your visits—and in a awkward yet weirdly teenage sounding voice, he had asked—"Hey, um—do you wanna get some coffee later?" You hadn't known how to respond to this unexpected invitation, but you accepted it with a smile anyway. And as you left with a grin on your face, he found himself growing a bright shade of pink. Holy shit. You just accepted.. an invitation to have some coffee with him later.
- He had known it would have to be after his work, and due to this, as soon as his shift ended, he immediately got the hell out of there, and went to go get ready for the coffee hangout. He felt as if he looked like the most nerdy man on earth once he had gotten properly dressed, but even so, he was eager to see you. He had been the first to show up at the coffee shop, awaiting your arrival. And when you had arrived, dressed up in your own fashion—his face turned a bright pink, his eyes being slightly widened as he stared at you and stammered. He couldn't believe someone as wonderful as you had said yes to someone like him. Someone like him. Of all people.
- As you two walked in, and sat at a random table, you two began to normally converse as you two normally did anytime you saw one another—companions, you two had been. Yet companions had not been enough for Kevin, no.. he longed for something more than just simple companionship. He longed for your attraction, your gaze.. he longed for you. But.. of course, this wouldn't be a typical coffee shop date if something dramatic didn't happen.
- A rather rude waiter/waitress began to sort of harass you, being unpleasant with you, but fairly nice to Kevin. As Kevin stared at the slightly hurt expression on your face from the passive aggresive behavior thrown by the waiter/waitress. And like a decent person, he began to defend you as best as he could, standing up as he yelled at the worker who tried to act as if they hadn't been in the wrong. From pure frustration and fury, he had decided in that moment that you two were leaving, only leaving a few cents on the table as he practically dragged you out of there.
- Apologizing for what happened, and apologizing for what he had done—he stood beside you as you two decided to go elsewhere. You had told him that it was fine, and that you didn't necessarily mind what he had done. As beads of sweat accumulated on his face, he stared down at his feet, bravery slightly collecting in his chest. He had known what to do now. What he had been wanting to do since the moment he fell in love with you.
- "Y/N.." He began, "there's been something I've been meaning to tell you."
- You listened, and became oddly mesmerized by the sudden confidence that grew in his speech. "Ever since I met you.. I've been—I've been thinking things that I've never thought before, I've been doing things that I've never thought before. I—I know I can be a bit—a bit rude at times, I know I can be a little passive aggresive when it comes to those two kids who always come over for those stupid candy canes—but—but I really mean it when I say that I appreciate you more than anyone else! I—I want you more than anyone else, I need you more than anyone else, I—.. I love you more than anyone else, so.."
- With a hesitant breath, he then said, "can you.. please be my valentine?"
- ...
- After shocked silence, you immediately accepted, impressed by that speech, though you had to ensure Kevin it had not been because you were hesitant to accept. You two hadn't exactly known what to do now, so for now, you two had just decided to eat at a resturant in order to actually be able to spend time in some place actually enjoyable.
- But, even though this had been a bit dramatic for a valentines day, Kevin appreciated you. And you appreciated him.
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the spring curse - ross x reader ˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧💌˚.⋆🌿
a/n: this is essentially a sickfic with so much yapping in there oh my god 🙄 yapping and yearning are the two things i operate on
cw: brief suggestive content but no actual smut. being ill i suppose but it's very mild and fluffy. also pls we're going to suspend our disbelief here because i have no idea what being a florist entails.
wc: 3.4k
they get together at the beginning of winter.
the last of the leaves are already a deep shade of orange, falling and falling everyday until the trees go barren and white snowflakes start fluttering all around. they’re already exclusive by the time the first proper snow of the season falls.
ross is a boyfriend. to the girl of his dreams. it makes him feel as giddy as a teenager every time he thinks about it; every time she gives him a sweet smile and an even sweeter kiss.
he always holds her hand just a little tighter, cuddles her closer just a little longer every time she has to go—he’s making up for the lost time, he thinks. all the time he’s wasted being stupid and a coward. and so whenever she stays over he stays near her, follows her around from room to room. she finds it infinitely amusing, so endearing that she can’t help but kiss him every two minutes for it.
a florist’s job is pretty slow in the winter. ross learns that quite early on in their relationship when he gets to take the slow days extra slow—cuddling on the sofa and dancing in the kitchen and every other cheesy thing he can think of.
he fucking adores the slow mornings after she stays over—loves waking up with her in his arms, loves the slow, lazy morning sex where she’s moaning and squirming and cumming on his cock barely awake, loves how she looks at him with sleepy eyes hooded with lust.
“‘s gonna be so awful when my job picks up again and the spring weddings start happening,” she says one morning while they’re in bed still, her head on his chest. ross hums. “you’ll be lucky if you see me two days in a row.”
he pouts. “it’s not that busy is it?”
“it is! so many new flowers coming into the shop and scott wants us to make sure each one of them is absolutely perfect. individually. fuck and the pollen—you’re not allergic to pollen are you? because i get so covered in it…”
ross racks his brain. maybe he does remember being a bit more sniffly in spring but nothing severe. it’s never been noteworthy. he shrugs and holds her tighter. “nah, don’t think so. it can’t be that bad though.”
she laughs mirthlessly. “you don’t know the half of it. my ex was so allergic i had to stay away for all of spring pretty much. like three months every year where i’d move back in with my parents because it was just that bad for him.”
he pretty much stops listening halfway through, stuck on the part where she had to stay away for three whole months. he can barely stay away half the week.
“don’t have to worry about that,” he strokes her hair, brushing off the silly unwanted thoughts.
and it turns out to be true—even when she stays in the shop longer, busy catering to new year’s parties and other events, ross hardly ever has a reaction to it. it’s blown out of proportion, he thinks. sure pollen allergies are real, but they must be incredibly rare.
what are the odds that he has it just as bad as her ex?
soon enough he forgets the conversation. everything is so blissful, so perfect that by the time valentine’s day rolls around, he’s already asked her to move in.
“are you serious?” she shrieks, giddy with excitement. it works great for them—for one, the floral shop she works at is so much closer to his house. and then just as an added bonus, he doesn’t have to compromise to seeing her only half the days of the week.
“yes. oh my god, yes! it’d be perfect…”
and he agrees. it would be perfect… until, well, it’s not.
spring arrives with a riot of colours—little weedy flowers grow in his backyard, daisies and buttercups cover grassy patches on the ground. even the dead trees start sprouting new leaves.
everything outside is cheery and pretty and colourful. in comparison, ross feels…weirdly tired. not that it’s an everyday thing but on days when he’s outside more, he’s way too fucking exhausted to do anything else. it’s only when the sneezing starts does the conversation come back to haunt him.
my ex was so allergic i had to stay away for all of spring pretty much…
ross shudders, thankful that it’s not that bad for him. it’s not! he’s certain about that. it’s only a scratchy throat and mildly itchy eyes that he could have gotten from eye strain too frankly, and maybe just a little case of the sniffles. it’s annoying, sure, but it’s not the end of the world. there’s no reason she needs to know about it and worry that she'll have to be away from him when she just moved in a week ago.
he can very easily chalk up all his symptoms to a plethora of other things.
and well, denial’s worked great for him—for one whole week, at least.
towards the end of her second week, ross feels more tired than usual. she’s been slightly more busy at work (there’s a big wedding coming up) and ross has taken it upon himself to do a deep clean of the house now that he has a bit more free time—spring cleaning, to get rid of the pollen that may or may not be there.
everytime there’s a persistent cough, he brushes it off. it’s dust—of course, that’s what’s making him cough and sneeze.
it’s all the cleaning—that’s why he’s so tired.
all of it melts away though when he hears the keys jingling and the door opening. there’s a bit of a shuffle, a door shutting softly and then he hears her.
“ross?”
he’s out the kitchen and walking towards her the next second, smiling huge. she looks like a fucking delight—hair a bit messy from the wind, surrounded by the smell of her perfume and a whole mix of flowers, plus something inexplicably green.
she grins when she sees him and almost tackles him into a hug.
“i love coming home to you…” the words are muffled by his t-shirt but his heart speeds up regardless. ross smiles and tucks his nose into her hair.
“hello, you. had a good day?”
she nods and stays exactly like she was. the bliss only lasts another second though. ross feels it only a second before it happens—the string of sneezes he lets out with only a split second’s warning from his body.
one, two, three, fifteen… until his eyes are watery and his throat stings from the effort. she looks at him with a bewildered expression on her face, slightly confused about…all of it.
he shakes his head. “shit, sorry! must have inhaled some pepper… i was just making dinner.”
which isn’t a lie. he was making dinner and yes he has got the pepper out on the table. she throws him one more skeptical look but doesn’t push it further.
ross takes her bag from her. “go wash up, i’ve got a movie picked out for us.”
she brightens instantly, and gives him a gorgeous smile, one that makes the tiny dimple by her lip appear. ross watches her nod and walk away from him, making her way to their bedroom. his smile is real for the most part until she finally shuts the door and he lets the cough he’s been holding in loose. he tries not to agitate his throat more, he tries to clear it so it would get rid of the itchy, sticky feeling.
pollen, the logical part of his brain tells him. there was a tonne of pollen in her hair. but ross stubbornly gulps a glass of water, sighing at the way it makes him feel better instantly. he splashes some water from the kitchen sink on his eyes to get rid of the stinging.
it’s only a bit of allergies, he’s not going to die from it. besides, once she showers, the pollen would be washed away…right?
the other delightful symptoms show up hours later when he’s in bed, tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable. his head feels fucking heavy, like there’s suddenly a dumbbell placed on there. the itchy eyes won’t let him get comfortable and the constant urge to sneeze has him almost on the verge of fucking tears from how uncomfortable he is.
ross curses silently, staying as far away from her without falling off the bed—for one he wants to try limiting his exposure to pollen. and if there’s a slight chance that he’s coming down with something then it’s better that he stay a bit away from her anyway.
that just makes him even more miserable. all he wants to do is cuddle and fall asleep and not wake up until it’s at least 8 am the next morning but apparently he’s not afforded this luxury.
sighing, ross gets up and checks his phone. 1:03 am.
then he makes his way to the kitchen. maybe some tea might help… at least out of the bedroom he can finally sneeze into the crook of his elbow without worrying about waking her up.
ross stumbles into the kitchen, his footsteps heavy with exhaustion and frustration. he flicks on the dim light above the stove, wincing as it illuminates the small space. his head throbs with each heartbeat, and he reaches up to massage his temples, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure.
he tries not to be miffed about it—the fact that being out of the room instantly feels a bit better. it must the the honey in the tea, or the warm water. whatever it is, he refuses to admit it to himself that it may be her. that he’s been cocky about it this whole time only for it to bite him in the ass.
“ross?” he startles and whirls around.
despite the painful headache, his heart melts. she looks sleepy and soft—hair half out of the braid, his giant t-shirt drowning her a little, sliding off her shoulder. she squints her eyes against the light and rubs the sleep out of them.
“what are you doing, it’s—” she has to wait till the yawn passes “—so late. you alright?”
he nods, maybe a bit too quickly and fails to stifle a wince. the movement makes a twinge of pain slice through his head and her eyes train on him.
“you’re being weird… are you unwell?”
“‘m not being weird,” he tries to reassure her. ross walks up to her, placing a hand on her waist so he could gently steer her back to their bedroom. “i’m fine, love. my throat feels a bit dry so i thought tea would help.”
“your eyes are all red.”
“yeah, babe. i just woke up.” lie, lie, lie. “come on, you’ve got to be up early. go back to bed, i’ll join you in a sec.”
the skepticism on her face remains. “ross, if you’re ill—”
“i’m not ill, come on. would i do this if i were ill?” and then he kisses her. for a good thirty seconds.
predictably (and to his delight) she goes all loose in his arms, clinging to him as if the kiss is the only thing that matters. that convinces her though and once they break apart, she hmphs.
“fine, don’t be long.” and then she drags her feet back to the bedroom.
ross stays in the kitchen for a bit longers, massaging his aching temples and hoping the tea works as some magical cure. he even manages to convince himself a little that it’s working, and maybe it is!
finally, fifteen minutes later he gives up. he just wants to be in bed at this point. he’ll figure out the rest tomorrow.
ross wakes up alone to warm sunlight streaming in from the window, perhaps a bit too warm for an early spring day. everything feels weird and uncomfortable and stuffy, almost like he can barely breathe. exhaustion coats every cell in his body.
what the fuck…
he just woke up too, how is it possible to be this tired, this early in the morning. he stretches a little, trying to shake off the ickiness, until his eyes land on a post it stuck on the nightstand.
i don’t know if you remember me telling you i was leaving for work early so i thought i’d leave a note. you looked really tired and uncomfy :( call me if you need me xx
her neat handwriting stands stark against the paper. how did he miss her leaving for work? he has absolutely no memory of being even half-awake and he never sleeps in until this late. ross frowns and checks himself for a fever but his skin feels cool to the touch, normal.
allergies. a voice chimes in again. allergies to pollen and spring and. allergies to your girlfriend.
it’s incredibly childish to think of it that way, he knows it. but he also knows that if she knew her job was causing him this much discomfort, she’d be quite sad about it. so ross just shrugs it away and sends her a text
awake and feeling a lot better :)
thirty seconds later, his phone pings.
good, because i took half the day off to spend it with you ♡
despite himself, ross beams, feeling giddy like a teenager. it takes him some effort to get out of bed and shake off the fatigue. he should probably clean the room a bit before she comes back. his thoughts wander back to the last time—to him uncontrollably sneezing and coughing because of the pollen in her hair.
ross groans and tries to clear his throat again.
somehow he manages to pass the time, doing little things here and there, getting on his playstation to see if any of his friends are free for a game (the are, but only for a bit). he makes himself a lazy lunch, quick and easy tin ravioli that she would 100% wrinkle her nose at (“pasta should be fresh though!”) and then he waits, scrolling on his phone to pass the time.
he wakes up to an onslaught of kisses and a huge bouquet of daisies.
for a second ross wonders when he fell asleep. he didn’t even mean to fall asleep, the tiredness just dragged him under…
“there you are,” she grins at him and places another kiss on his nose. ross tries not to blush like a high school girl. instead, he pulls her into a quick kiss.
“i got you flowers!” the bouquet of daisies is thrust into his hands. the flowers are beautiful, each about the same size, white and fresh and pretty and she beams at him proudly. “made that one for you.”
“you are perfect…” he kisses her again and cradles the flowers closer. “any special occasion though?”
“nah, just thought you were a bit unwell and thought i’d get you flowers.”
ross brightens. he loves how thoughtful she is, loves that she made sure to get him flowers because she suspected he was sick.
all of it comes crashing the moment he feels the familiar itchy feeling build at the back of his throat, feels his eyes starting to water. he tries not to throw the flowers away as if they were made of fire but he has twist his body away from hers when he breaks out into a coughing fit. hacking and trying to get the flowers away from him.
“shit, you okay?” she sounds alarmed and rubs her hand up and down his back. it barely registers while ross struggles to breathe.
quickly she runs to the kitchen to get him some water. it takes him a bit to breathe and stop coughing so he can get some water down.
“i didn’t know you were this sick!”
“i’m not,” his voice sounds strained but she ignores him entirely and places the back of her hand against his forehead.
“no fever,” she frowns. “but you looked so run down before…”
“i haven’t caught a bug i promise!”
she opens her mouth again to argue, about to say something but stops halfway through the sentence, her eyes widening and ross watches in real time as the realisation dawns on her. the room goes drop dead silent.
“fuck…” she murmurs, “it’s hay fever, isn’t it.”
ross wants to deny it so desperately but all he can do is sit there and pout miserably. there’s nothing he can say that will undo it now.
“how long?”
“how long what?”
“how long have you been feeling it? itchy eyes, the sneezing, coughing. you know what i’m talking about.”
he does but he doesn’t want to admit it. quietly, she move the flowers as far away as possible. ross palms the back of his neck, sheepish. “two weeks.”
“you’ve been miserable for what–two weeks? because of me! and you didn’t even tell me.” her face falls more and more with each word and ross wants to point out that this is exactly why he didn’t tell her, and now she’s upset anyway. convincing herself that she’s the reason he’s been feeling so horrible.
“why didn’t you tell me?”
sheepishly, he spills everything—how he remembers the conversation about her ex, how he doesn’t want her to feel like she’s the one making him sick.
“and i didn’t want you moving away for three months! you just moved in”
he sounds so petulant and childish to his own ears, he sounds like a seven year old, not a fully grown man.
for a moment she says absolutely nothing. she only looks at him, bewildered and speechless.
“did–do—” then she has to pause to take a deep breath. “did you take any antihistamines?”
and that’s when it dawns on him. ross opens his mouth and closes it again, like a fish. antihistamines. allergy medicine. a miracle of modern science easily available to him over the counter. something he didn’t even bother thinking about.
“did you?”
“no.”
he hangs his head in shame, embarrassed that he didn’t think about it sooner until peals of her laughter jolt him back. she looks like she’s ready to collapse on the sofa, completely fucking floored by the giggles she can’t seem to suppress.
“you are so dramatic!” she shrieks, manages to even get the whole sentence out between gasps and giggles. “you’d think you caught the black death or something.”
“oi!” ross flicks her her on the nose but joins in on the laughter too. he has been a fucking idiot, of course he has. “you said you had to move away every spring! because your ex had it that bad!”
“yeah because he had asthma, you idiot.”
with every new piece of information she reveals, ross feels his face warm up more and more. okay yeah… he really has been fucking dramatic about all this.
“you really are an idiot, you know that?,” she catches her breath with a bit of effort and moves a bit closer to him. ross pretends to grumble but pulls her on his lap and holds her close.
“your idiot?”
“don’t try to be cute, you’re not living this down.” she sounds stern for about two seconds before bursting into another fit of giggles and burying her face in his shoulder.
“i’m not moving out the house just because you’re allergic to me, you know?” she teases once she’s sobered up enough. “you’ll be fine with some pills.”
he would be, now all he wants to do is make a mad dash to the pharmacy and buy whatever otc medication they have. it’s been hell as is, he just wants this feeling to go away.
i’m not moving out the house…
his heart leaps up to his throat and relief floods his body. ross feels like he can finally breathe again (figuratively, at least).
“i’m not allergic to you,” he counters, “i’m obsessed with you if anything.”
“flirting will not get you out of this!” but ross doesn’t miss the way her smile widens and she struggles to meet his eyes. if only he could stay like this forever…
he would have even, if not for another round of sneezes building up again. ross cringes, turning to the side.
“shit shit! still, radioactive, sorry.”
ross snorts, silently begging for the sneezes to go away.
“let me make a pharmacy run for you,” she declares, putting her shoes back on and shushing him with a look before he can even protest. it’s fine though, he thinks, it's only twenty minutes. she’s coming back home to him anyway.
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#spring fics#seasons#the 1975#ross macdonald#ross macdonald x reader#ross macdonald x you#ross x reader#ross x you
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ross request 👀
basically y/n is friends with adam & carly and they’ve been trying to set them up for months with ross but something always happens (someone is sick, touring, etc.) but finally ross & y/n meet and it’s basically a match made in heaven
Adams Bestfriend
warnings: ☁️ v fluffy, babies if you consider them a warning!
A/N: this is soooo freaking cute
You had been a close friend of Carly's for many years, naturally becoming close with Adam over the years too. The pair having you over for any movie nights, dinners and outings. You loved nothing more than third wheeling the pair, and when their sweet baby came you practically clung to the couple even more. The two of them adored you and the way you were with their son. It was initially Adams idea to introduce you to Ross after hearing you complain to Carly all night about how terrible your date was, you had called Carly half way through asking her to come and bail you out which she gladly obliged, and after hours of venting, crying and getting wine drunk with Carly you fell asleep on their sofa bundled up in a blanket, head resting in Carly's lap. Adam sat next to Carly quietly chatting as she stroked through your hair. "Do you know who I think would be really good for her?" Carly's eyebrows raise as she looks at her husband with a quizzical look on her face "Ross..." suddenly her face lights up, eyes practically gleaming, "holy shit that's the best idea you've ever had!"
That was over a year ago now, the pair had tried numerous times to get you and Ross in a room together but to no avail, several plans had been foiled, neither of you actually knowing Adam and Carly's true intentions. You were supposed to meet at Christmas, but Ross had to cancel to see his brother. Then again for dinner at Easter but you double booked with your parents, and more and more occasions just like it, either one of you was sick or the both of you double booked, it was a complete disaster. But the one time you did finally meet was completely by mistake, Ross was round Adam and Carly’s babysitting for them, when you unexpectedly dropped by having forgotten your purse when you were visiting a couple days earlier.
You knock on their front door tapping in a singsong manner fully expecting to see Carly’s beautiful head of curls answer the door, only to be completely blindsided by a tall dark handsome stranger, you knew to be one of Adam’s friends answering. He was clutching onto baby Hann whilst he screamed bloody murder looking very distressed as he looked at you confused. “Hi, I’m y/n, Carly’s friend, I left my purse here the other night and was coming to get it but if it’s a bad ti-“ Ross cuts you off almost in a pleading notion “Y/n! Yeah They’ve mentioned you a bunch of times, come in, I think I’ve seen a purse in the living room” he sidesteps out the way to let you into the house, you slip off your shoes knowing Adam’s strict ‘no shoes on my carpet’ policy. You can’t help but wince at the screeching sound of the babies cries as Ross helplessly bounces him trying to get him to calm down. You spot your purse in an instant but the maternal instinct in you has you reaching out for baby Hann. “Are you okay?” You ask softly, trying not to pry but feeling genuinely concerned not only for the baby but for Ross’s sanity, knowing how stressful it can be the times you’ve looked after the baby not knowing of you’re doing things right, sometimes reassurance is needed. Ross sighs and turns to you fully, it’s now that you take him in fully, he looked tired, his hair was falling out of his bun, his shirt was wrinkled probably from holding the baby against him most the day, and his forehead was forming faint stress lines. “Uh, I’m not sure, I feel like I’ve tried everything and he won’t calm down, he’s not hungry, he doesn’t wanna play with any toys, I’ve tried listening to music, he doesn’t want me to sit down with him he doesn’t want me to be moving around, I just don’t know what to do” he lets out a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding, “here let me take over for a minute, you sit down” he would resist but the way you’re already two inches from him gently taking the baby from his grasp has him dizzy, so he takes a seat, he watches as you place the babies head on your shoulder holding around his back, patting his bum in a steady rhythm that has the baby soothed and falling asleep in a matter of minutes, “see, just exhausted” you give Ross a soft smile and join him sitting on the sofa next to him, “how the hell did you do that” he shakes his head laughing in disbelief “lots of practice, I have lots of nieces and nephews” you continue to sooth down the babies back as you settle down and get comfy on the sofa.
“So it’s nice to finally meet you” you smile staring across at the brunette who looks slightly more relaxed now. “Adam and Carls talk about me too? I hope you haven’t heard anything bad!” He winks at you, and you swear you feel a swarm of butterflies erupting through your stomach. “Nothing bad about you, Matty on the other hand…” you trail off as the baby stirs slightly, but you lull him back into his slumber by shushing and rocking him, Ross can’t help but admire you. “I really don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t have shown up here, maybe started crying myself” he speaks in hushed tones and lets out a soft laugh. “Don’t be silly, you would been fine, he would have tired himself out anyway, it’s just stressful to listen to when they’re in that mood and nothing you’ve tried is working” you place your free hand on top of his, gliding your thumb across the knuckles, you couldn’t help yourself, you almost felt drawn to him. He looks down at the your hand and smiles, turning his hand in yours and giving it a squeeze, a sort of silent gratitude. The two of you being too comfortable to take your hands away so you just left them there and chatted for at least an hour and a half while baby Hann slept soundly on the comforts of your chest. You got to know the ins and outs of each other feeling as if you had known one another for years. You hadn’t noticed Ross shuffling closer to you, or more so you didn’t mind as he slipped an arm around your shoulder so the three of you were close while you spoke in hushed tones, and you definitely didn’t hear the front door clicking open, and the quiet footsteps of your friends coming home to greet their baby, when they stubbles in on a sight and a half. Their best friends huddled up on their sofa whilst their baby slept safely between the pair, the two of them giggling at something the other had said, a squeeze of the shoulder, a pat on the thigh, their faces were close, it was everything Adam and Carly had hoped for when they wanted them to meet. The sight being almost too cute break, but sadly Carly had mummy fever, and had to see her baby. “Well, well, well… what’s going on here then?!”
And at the sound of his mothers voice, and frankly saved by the bell, baby Hann awakens and emits his cries for his mother and hunger. Saving you an explanation, for now. The two of you clear your throats as you struggle to separate from each other, Adam finding the scene particularly humorous to watch. You had the baby over to Carly who coos at the baby calming him instantly making Ross shake his head in confusion, “I told you Ross, he’s a ladies man” Adam chuckles walking over to his friend and patting him on the back, judging by the fact that his hair was falling all over the place and you were the one holding the baby that Ross had been struggling. “Honestly mate, that was the hardest babysitting gig of my life, if Y/n hadn’t of shown up, me and jr would have been joining you at dinner”
You laugh and sigh shaking your head “you weren’t doing that bad, you just needed to pat, not bounce” you wink at him this time and you watch as his mouth falls agape. Adam pats his friends back in sympathy but laughs all the same. “Well, I guess I better get my purse and get going, it was lovely to see you guys, and nice to meet you Ross… finally” you say the last word pointedly to him directly, grabbing your things giving Carly a quick hug and kiss before heading down the hallway. You hear your name being called just as you reach the front door so you turn and see Ross taking long strides towards you.
“Hey y/n, um this may be strange as we only met today, but I was wondering if I could take you out sometime?” You can’t help the raging smile that appears on your face making your cheeks ache, you nod instantly “yeah, yes that would be nice” Ross leans down to give you a hug and you hear a muffled “yes! I knew it would work!” From Adam in the living room making you chuckle and nuzzle your face closer into Ross’s warm and welcoming chest.
#fanfic#fanfiction#imagines#adam hann#ross macdonald fanfiction#ross macdonald x reader#the 1975#the 1975 imagines#ross macdonald imagines#ross macdonald smut#ross macdonald#ross x reader#teacher ross macdonald#george daniel#matty healy#matty and ross#Ross
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You've Got Me Forever - Ross Macdonald One Shot
A/n: something I just whipped up in about 10 minutes because I woke from having dreams about this glorious man and just had to write one down. It's not been proof read so please don't hate me
Fluff, spelling and grammar mistakes
He stands by the door to his bedroom, resting against the frame, it's cold against his bare back but he doesn't falter, doesnt flinch. His eyes remain on her, sitting in just his Tshirt and a pair of panties, an acoustic guitar resting in her lap as she sits cross legged.
She fiddles with the strings for a second, completely unaware that he's been standing watching her the entire time. She begins strumming a familiar song, playing the chords effortlessly. He has to hold in a gasp as her voice then fills the room.
"So I heard, you found, somebody else" she sings. Ross' mouth falls open, shocked that the girl he had been spending months with now, was revealing something about her that he didn't know, something huge. She could sing and was amazing at it too.
"And at first, I thought, it was a lie" she was completely wrapped up in the music and he couldn't help but smile, heart beating twice as fast in his chest. They had spent every waking moment they could with each other for 6 months (going on dates on and off for two months before that mainly due to his busy schedule), she joined them on tour when she could (her own job making it pretty easy for her to do so), he spent every minute of his time off with her and their families and they quickly fell in love.
He had her in his life for 6 whole months and was yet to discover this about her. Every day he spent with her he learnt something new, something that made him want her more, something that made him realise she was his person.
"I took all my things, that make sounds, the rest I can do without" he remembers Matty saying to him once that some people have to really work on singing and some people just get it. She just got it. Her voice was effortless, her tone was beautiful, her voice never wavered or cracked, a small fact that let him knew she must have done this a lot. They had spoken about their mutual passion for music, she explained that she had been playing guitar since she could remember, but she failed to mention this.
"I don't want your body, But I hate to think about you with somebody else" she sings. She stops after that, fingers pausing on the strings.
"Can feel you staring you know" she says, eyes flicking up from the strings to the man in the doorway. He simply smiles at her and she smiles back.
"Darling..." Hjs next words fail him and she stares back, waiting for him to say something, anything.
"You never told me you could sing" he says, large frame coming to find her on the bed. She simply shrugs at his words, placing the guitar onto the floor lightly.
"You're amazing" he says, she moves herself so she's draped over him, legs either side of his thighs. His hands instinctively move to her hips, holding her in place. Her hands find his shoulders, the muscle contracting under her touch.
"I've been singing since I was 2" she says matter of factly.
"And you didn't feel like telling me that?" He chuckles. She shrugs again and it makes him chuckle, his hand finds her jaw pulling her towards him for a brief kiss.
"Singing... It... Frees me" she explains "But... I like to keep it to myself, it's my own little thing you know, people don't need to know that" she says and he nods along fo her words.
"I appreciate that... But baby a talent like yours can't just be hidden... Everyone needs to know how good you are" he says and she shakes his head at him.
"No they don't" she smiles at him "I don't tell anyone, I prefer it that way, I don't need to tell anyone it's like my secret, you're lucky I shared it with you" she laughs and his face falls, suddenly looking at her very seriously.
"Thank you" he says, if this was something she kept to herself, he was unbelievably thankful she allowed him to know.
"But I will... With some persuasion... Sing for you if you liked it so much... Just for you" she says and he smiles widely at her again.
"You must really like me" he jokes. She simply smears her lips to hers, playing with the hairs covering his chin, before pulling away.
"You're alright" she says making him laugh, flipping them easily as his hands encapture her waist, tickling her. Her giggles fill the room and soon he's laughing too, until eventually their stomachs hurt too much and they have to stop.
So he rests in-between her thighs, one of which has hooked over him, keeping him there. He holds himself up by his elbows as his right hand moves the hair from her eyes.
"I'm going to marry you one day" he says simply as she smiles at him.
"You better, otherwise I might have to kill you... Can't have you going on about how good of a singer your ex-girlfriend was" she says making him laugh above her.
"You'd want to marry me?" He asks. He had always struggled navigating relationships with his job, but with her it was never complicated, in fact it was one of the easiest things either of them had ever done. They just made it work and she was the most understanding person about his career. But he was ever the worrier and despite plenty of reassurance from her, he still doubted that she wanted him: all of him forever.
"If you'd have me, of course. Thought you knew that by now" she says, placing a gentle peck to his lips.
"You worry too much Macdonald" she says, pushing the hair from his eyes now. "I'm not going anywhere, no matter what we'll make it work" she says and he nods down at her.
"And one day you'll marry me. You promise?" He says making her chuckle.
"I promise" she seals it with a kiss.
He had found his person and he was so unbelievably lucky and ecstatic it was her. Someone who loved him fiercely, loved him for every part of him (even the parts he wasn't too fond of). Someone who seemed to not give a shit about rumours or tabloids because she trusted him and knew he was her person too. Someone who supported him through every adventure he had, had so far in the time they had known each other and someone who would go on to support through every other one.
"You've got me forever you know that right?" She asks and he nods.
"I love you" he says simply, pressing a firm kiss to her mouth.
"I love you more Ross Macdonald"
#ross macdonald#the 1975 fanfic#ross macdonald x reader#the 1975#ross macdonald fluff#ross mcdonald fanfic#ross macdonald imagine#ross macdonald one shot#ross x reader#ross the 1975
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someone scream at me to work on my ross fic please. the motivation is nowhere to be seen but i do really want to write it.
#its pure fluff#until its filth#did someone say fake dating?#at a wedding?#with smut?#menswear (ross's version)#and rain#and a malaysia inspired kiss?#HELP I NEED MOTIVATION#ross fluff#the 1975#ross macdonald#ross x reader
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hi girlies :)). i've got another breeding blurby to share, thank ms. bubbles @harrysonlylover.
wc: 1.6k
cw: talk of menstrual and ovulation cycle, smut, minors dni, 17+, breeding kink, and more. not proofread.
Some people might say that the extent of his knowledge and control over Y/N’s life is not healthy. They might even suggest that his possessive behavior is a red flag, too. The constant messaging, always knowing her location, who she’s with, when she’s with them, why, how…
They didn’t tend to think of it that way. Love comes in all forms and theirs is… different.
Y/N likes being controlled. She wants him to know everything about her. She fucking craves the comfort of being taken care of for the price of absolutely nothing.
Well, maybe a few things.
Her obedience, for one, was expected (required). Her honesty, and loyalty. Her submission, too (although, sometimes, he liked to submit to her).
They’d found a simple way of living on some inherit, basic principles.
One, Y/N loved to be taken care of.
Two, he loved to take care of her.
So that was that. He was controlling, and she reveled in the power imbalance, and they didn’t care if others didn’t understand it, or like it, or even respect it. It was theirs, and it was enough.
It was fucking perfect.
One of the many ways he kept a tight leash on Y/N’s life was by tracking her menstrual cycle. He liked being ahead of the game—warm bath with waterlily scented suds ready for when she arrived home after her courses, her favorite sweet treats scattered across the kitchen island, Gilmore Girls queued up on his laptop, candles lit and heating pad at attention. Keeping track of her period meant knowing other things, intuitively, too. Like knowing that her cramps were worst on the first few days ( they were horrendous the last days too, though), that she’s more cuddly and soft than irritable or grumpy, that if she was too— no, severely stressed, overworking herself mentally, emotionally, and physically, she’d more likely than not work herself into a dreadful tizzy and end up intensifying (or even sometimes missing) her cycle.
Like now.
The poor thing, she was curled up in a frail little ball by end of the night every day this past week, deadlines looming over her head like a dark, rainy cloud as midterms approach. And, stubborn angel girl she is, she doesn’t bleat and moan about it to him. She doesn’t weep into his chest about how difficult this time is the way he encourages her to. She holds her chin high until the sun falls from the sky, her perseverance going with it, the stars and moon left to keep her and her misery company. And him, of course.
So, before the height of her period—when the red devil actually rears her ugly little head instead of inspiring trepidation of the inevitable with sore tits, an achy spine, and mental anguish—he thinks he’ll treat her a bit. And perhaps himself, as well (what? periods meant ovulating, and ovulating meant a lot of things).
———
Y/N’s head is quiet for the first time in days, and it’s all because of him.
As if anyone else could do what he does for her.
“Pretty girl,” he whispers in the place he’s nuzzled into her neck, littered with love bites and bruises. His cock is stuffed in her drippy pussy, stretching her deliciously over his thick, lengthy girth; his strong, beefy arms trapping her body to his like a vice.
Cowgirl usually makes Y/N’s thighs sore, but he’d taken the liberty of doing all the work tonight. He was in no mood for teasing, nor mocking or degrading. She wasn’t his whore tonight, just his girl. His soft, gorgeous, sensitive girl that deserved a sweet fucking after all the tears she’d choked down this week.
She needed a good cry.
“My little pillow princess, Yeah?” He mumbles, peaking up at her sluggish form. She’s slumped into him, head lain on his shoulder uselessly, hands gripping the tight Henley he’d neglected to rid himself of in the rush of their lustrous dance. She manages a nod, however, lazy and slow, but, somehow, still urgent. Frantic. In the glow of her eye, he can see, she adores that idea. “Yeah,” He nods, gripping the soft curve of her jaw to move her head with him, “My girl.”
She whimpers, but doesn’t speak. Too exhausted, too sedated. His cum is addicting, and if it were a drug, she’d inject it right into her veins (up her cunt).
Her arms wind around his neck, fingers spreading through the curly, sweaty tendrils of hair at the nape. Her nails tickle him, in the best way, only adding to the allure of her being. Of her mere presence.
Her hips swivel, rocking against his to create a mind-numbing sensation that has them both mewling. His cock stretches her out and fills her up completely, felt in the deepness of her tummy. Her lashes flutter when she feels him twitch inside of her, a sign that he’s close (she’d realize that she’s much closer if she had the brain capacity to think of anything other than him).
The thought—of his cum filling her to the point of spilling around their joined parts, a filthy mess between their legs—makes her dizzy. Eager. She’d been good, so good, this week, hadn’t she?
Fed herself, cleaned herself, went to class on time, even though school made her unpleasantly weak in the knees. She studied every day for at least three hours at the library, before trudging home with bleary eyes and a foggy head, only to do more studying.
She deserved a treat, right? A reward for staying in line, for not being bratty or whiny when he was busy and all she wanted was for her brain to shut off.
Now, with the opportunity before her (to go totally brain-dead, that is), she refuses to not seize the moment.
“Come,” she says suddenly, catching him mildly off guard.
Oh? She wanted to order him around?
“Please.”
Oh. Guess not.
“Please, please, come, Sir, I want it, so fucking bad,” she whines, mouthing at the chain sitting delicately across his neck. It’s nearly out of place; something so frail and pretty looks almost comical gracing his large, stocky figure. Perhaps that’s how those judgy people saw them, out of place.
She didn’t care though, she thought it looked nice on him. He made it look nice. Made it better, just like he makes everything better.
“Wan’ me t’a stuff you up, Babydoll?” he grunts, thankful that she’d somehow picked up on his primitive, feral need. Or maybe she just wanted it just as bad. “Fill you with my come and make you m’messy girl?”
“Yes, please,” she cries faintly, her lips brushing the shell of his ear, hiding her face in his neck as the tears finally start to flow.
How precious.
“Okay,” he sighs, his hands trailing from her hips to the plush, full of her ass. “I’ll fill y’up, Sugar.” He lifts her up, letting his cock slip from her fluttering hole to the tip— less than the tip. He smears himself onto her clit, making her jolt, and spanks her in reprimand. “Stay still for Daddy,” he scolds softly. “Lemme do my job.”
She cries pitifully when her thrusts back inside, hard. And he doesn’t lighten up. Not in the slightest. He pounds his cock into her small pussy, chasing his orgasm, trying to claim hers, bullying his way through her tight snatch to find them.
“Play with your pouty clit, Doll,” he offers. “Wan’ y’to come with me; cream my fat cock, Baby.”
Y/N does not need to be told twice.
One hand drops from the back of his head to toy with her swollen button, and it takes three weak twirls of her delicate fingers to get her there. He’s not far behind, nuzzling into her neck once more, mirroring her own position on top of him, groaning out profanities as his orgasm washes over him, from his head to the tips of his toes. He continues to drill his cock into her until his legs give out, trembling beneath her own.
They pant heavily, in unison, into each others necks as they start to come down.
He feels good, accomplished. He can feel that satisfaction rolling off of his girl in waves—felt it throughout their soft session—and it was more than enough to keep him happy. His orgasm was just a much appreciated bonus.
And Y/N… she feels great. Cunt clenching over his half-hard cock, full of him, literally, in every way she could be. Thoughts silenced and replaced with rose hued daydreams, floaty, fuzzy sensations that tingle through her entire body and make her slightly sluggish, slow. She feels fucking amazing.
“Hope it takes…” she admits softly, absently. The phrase slips off of her tongue without thought (we’ve established that their are none left in that subby head of hers), and her tone suggests she’s not expecting a reaction.
He gives her one, anyway.
“Say that again,” he demands, grip on her ass tightening, his voice grumbly, deep, shooting a shiver up her spine.
“Huh?”
“Tell Daddy what the fuck you just said, Babydoll.”
Her eyes round out even more, if possible, lips parted, gazing owlishly. Stupidly.
“Said, ‘I hope it takes,’ Daddy,” She whimpers quietly, squeezing around his, once again, stiff prick.
“Shit,” he hisses, eyes fluttering.
It’s like she wanted to stay locked on his cock all night.
…Oh well.
So be it.
“It’ll take, Sugar,” he says after a few moments of tense silence, shifting her up gently, manhandling her with a softness that makes her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. He presses a chaste kiss to her mouth, sweet. Contradictory.
“Daddy’ll make it take.”
#evelyn speaks#i hope this cheers u up bubbles :(((#sending love kithes and hugs <33#harry styles x reader#jon bernthal x reader#sebastian stan x reader#dylan o'brien x reader#drew starkey x reader#rudy pankow x reader#chris evans x reader#ross lynch x reader#aaron taylor johnson x reader#jermey allen white x reader#carlos sainz x reader#cillian murphy x reader#tom hardy x reader#hayden christensen x reader#andrew garfield x reader#smut#smutty fic#writing#fanfic#fanfiction
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