#ross macdonald imagine

[tonguepiercedanyway75]

Wedding guest // Ross Macdonald x Reader

summary: the whole band is a guest at a wedding (you’re part of it) and then you get closer and closer to Ross

warnings: 18+ mdni

masterlist

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The evening is aglow with the soft light of lanterns strung overhead, casting a magical ambiance over the outdoor wedding venue. As a member of The 1975, you are part of the band invited to perform at this special occasion. The air is filled with music, laughter, and the chatter of guests, but amidst it all, your attention keeps drifting to Ross.

The last months your feelings have changed. He was always your best friend and you spend the most time together but it’s different. He makes you want him all the time. You miss him when he’s gone for 5 minutes but you can’t breathe when he’s there. The longer you look at him, the more you want to tell him that you want to be with him.

But you can’t. Because it’ll ruin everything.

That’s why you’re sitting in front of him, avoiding to look him in the face, even though he looks as beautiful as ever today. In a black suit, matching his beard, eyes and smile.

“Bollocks! C’mon Ross you agree with me right?” John laughs and sips his drink. Honestly you don’t even know what you’ve been talking about and Ross doesn’t either.

“Sure,” he laughs. His hand drops down under the table and seconds later he’s pulling out a cigarette. He holds up the pack.

“Would you like one?” He asks and you decline. You don’t want your own. You only want to share. Ross nods.

You take the last sip of your drunk and stand up, “I’m gonna get a refill,” you mumble as you walk away.

“Mate, she’s weird today don’t you think?” Ross nudges John and nods his head your way. John just smiles because he knows about your feelings and he knows about how Ross feels about you.

“You haven’t said one word to her, maybe a compliment wouldn’t have been bad.” That’s true. When Ross gives you compliment they mean so much more. You want to be beautiful just to hear him say you are. It’s stupid.

“She’s not even looking at me longer than a minute let alone speaking to me in a full sentence.” His head drops and he starts rubbing his forehead, trying to understand why you’re acting that way.

John’s hand finds his shoulder, “just tell her already mate.” A voice interrupts the two.

“Tell her you are whipped for her?, mate it’s getting timeeee,” Matty says hugging him ironically from behind.

“Fuck off,” Ross says, pushing his head away, “you’re plastered already.” Matty huffs at the obviously true statement.

“I’m telling you, don’t be an arse and tell her you wanna shag her.” John breaks out in laughter and puts an arm around his shoulder. “Fucking drink some water,” he says and leaves with him.

Ross is sitting there, hoping you’ll return any second and you do. With a new cocktail. You lost count of how many drinks you had but it doesn’t even matter. The second you sit down the groom is speaking through the microphone.

“Okayyy, it’s getting time for some dances, you’re all welcome to join on the dance floor.” It’s a funky song and you’re definitely not drunk enough to show some dance moves.

“Where’s John?” You ask, breaking the silence. You look around because John promised to tell you the newest tea from his family.

“Looking after Matty, he’s had a tad much of alcohol.” You giggle. The sound makes Ross smile and warm his heart.

“Knew it,” you said “Adam owes me 20 quid.” Adam was so sure that Charli is going to be the drunkest but she’s dancing with George, too busy to drink.

You look around and there are not many people sitting down. At your table there’s only you and Ross and at the one next to you there’s Polly and Gabi.

Ross doesn’t stop looking at you, it drives you crazy. You tug at your dress slightly, trying to shake off the nervousness. But it’s hard when the guy you’ve had a crush on for a while now is smiling at you.

The song changes to a slow one. ‘Kiss me’ from Ed Sheeran is now playing through the speakers. Your gaze drops to the dance floor, looking at the couples and some friends paring up to dance.

Ross stands up as he extends a hand towards you.

“Care to dance?” he asks, his British accent adding an extra layer of charm to the invitation.

You look up at him, surprised by his request. You take a deep breath to calm your racing heart. The twinkle in his eyes is infectious, and without any more hesitation, you place your hand in his.

“I’d love to,” you reply, rising from your seat.

He leads you through the cluster of tables and guests towards the dance floor.

Once you reach the dance floor, Ross turns to face you, his hand firmly on your waist as he holds your other hand in his. His touch sends a thrill through you, igniting a cascade of emotions that you struggle to contain.

You sway together in perfect rhythm until he spins you one time, and when your face finds his, his hand isn’t on your waist, but your back. His touch sending a shiver down your spine. You can feel the heat of his body, the steady rise and fall of his chest as you move together, lost in the enchantment of the moment.

It feels too real, him looking down at you through his perfect brown eyes. It’s something you could do for hours, gazing into his eyes, observing every breath he takes.

“Finally G,” Charli says as they both watch you.

Lost in the magic of the moment, you lean into him, the distance between you evaporating with each passing second. The soft brush of his breath against your cheek, the warmth of his embrace—it all feels like a dream you never want to wake from.

You think about what his lips would feel like on yours. But this is wrong. You’re friends. Ross wouldn’t think about you like that. You abruptly pull away, completely out of breath even though you were resting your face next to his, not on his.

“Sorry, I just-“ you stutter, “I have to-“ you look around, people still dancing, but the man in front of you looking at you baffled.

You pull your lips together and walk away, walking away from the venue to a little viewing platform. Far way from the people so they can’t see you, but you can hear them.

“Mate what happened?” George approaches Ross but he doesn’t give him an answer, he goes after you, taking his drink with him.

The air is cool and refreshing against your flushed cheeks. Overwhelmed by the intensity of emotions stirred up during the dance with Ross, you need a moment alone to collect your thoughts.

That moment is interrupted by footsteps behind you, you know that it’s Ross.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asks his voice gentle yet earnest.

You nod, offering him a faint smile, “yeah, just needed to cool down.”

Ross steps closer, seeing the goosebumps on your arms, your red nose and your slight shaking from the cold. He shruggs his jacket off and puts it around your shoulders.

You wrap it around yourself, feeling the familiar scent of his cologne envelop you. It is an intimate gesture, one that stirrs a up a swirl of emotions within you.

You thank him but he’s quick to say “anytime.”

The two of you stand there, enveloped in a moment of quiet understanding. With Ross by your side, the weight of your emotions seem to lighten, the warm feeling in your stomach relaxing you.

“I haven’t told you today, but you look absolutely stunning,” you blush and you’re sure he sees. The wind blowing your hair into your face, covering your eyes.

Ross carefully tucks them behind your ear, smiling, “there you are,” he jokes. You’re still baffled from his compliment and now the small gesture. he’s driving you insane.

Somehow you gained some confidence and because you are friends you’re not unfamiliar with body contact.

You grab his hands so lightly that he doesn’t feel it until your hands are resting in each other. “You don’t look bad yourself McDonald.” He chuckles and enjoys the moment, not letting his eyes look away.

“Are you okay?” He asks, trying to find out what’s got you confused. You exhale shakily.

“It’s just,” he looks at you expectant but he’s still reassuring you it’s fine to tell him, “I was nervous.”

“Why’s that?” You remove your hands from his and take his glass into your hands to take a sip. You pause, because you can’t tell him the reason you’re nervous. You can’t tell him that he makes your heart flutter like a teenage girl.

“Hm?” Your name rolls off his lips and he takes a step further. “You can tell me.” He whispers.

“You make me nervous.” It slips. You look away but his hands cradle your face. He suppresses a smile.

His hands are on your face, warming your cold cheeks. You’re forced to look him in the eyes, scared that he will break your heart.

“I make you nervous?” He repeats, “why?” You close your eyes for a second, thinking about what to say. “I want you to feel comfortable around me.”

“I do!” You say quickly, “I really do, I mean we’re friends and shit.” You sigh.

Now it’s unavoidable. You have to tell him. You will ruin everything. Your eyes wander from his eyes to the lights in the background until they’re back at Ross.

“I just really like you.” You say but what you want to say is that you really really really really like him.

“I like you too,” he says but you shake your head which makes him raise his eye brows.

“No Ross, I mean like I like you. And I didn’t want to say anything because we’re best friends and we’re on tour and I don’t want it to be weird. But then you’re always so nice and want to know if something’s wrong and I didn’t know-.” You’re rambling is stopped by your body being pulled flush against his, his hands grabbing your waist.

“Tell me when you’re done,” he says, smiling. Why is he smiling. Why is your body on his, feeling everything and why is your mouth suddenly so dry you can’t speak.

His gaze flicks down to your lips before his hand is on your neck, pulling you close. Now it’s a good thing you’re pulled against him because your knees buckle and you feel as if you’re gonna faint. His lips on yours feel better than you imagined.

“Wait,” you say as you pull away, “does this mean?” He’s on you again. His lips soft against yours, as he gives you only one long kiss.

“I really like you too,” he says. You want so scream, jump, cry, laugh but you stand there in shock. This is the best day of your life.

This time it’s you who pulls him in, Ross having to bend down to kiss you. His hand finds your lower back, pressing you against him, earning a shaky breath from you. An excuse to let his tongue brush against yours.

You can’t stand the heat, you want to rip his clothes off right there. “Do you think we can leave?” You ask, making him laugh.

“Patient much?” He teases, then he looks back at the venue. The people are still dancing and singing. When he looks back at you he knows he can’t wait as well.

“You absolutely sure?” He asks, “not too tipsy?” You shake your head and your eyes tell him you want him more than anything.

“I’m sure Ross, please,” His eyes are on you again, but this time, there wasn’t any questioning to them, as if he was searching for any sign that your words were less than sincere.

His hand goes through his face, “Jesus,” He’s having a hard time, not knowing what to do. He really wants to take it slow, give you a proper date. But you’re in front of him, saying ‘please’ so nicely.

He grabs your hand and leads you down the stairs, “okay,” he says, “let’s go to my hotel.”

You’re giddy, excited and you can’t believe that you have Ross, leading you to his room. You both move in a hurry, almost running. You’re lucky the hotel isn’t far away and you don’t need a car to get there.

When you reach his room, you lay his jacket on a stool. His bed isn’t made and his suitcase is still unpacked, but open. The door to the bathroom is open and you are amazed at the beautiful decorations.

Your thoughts get pulled back to reality as his arms wrap around your body and his mouth trails kisses down your neck. You smile and let your head fall against his shoulder. “Gorgeous,” he mumbles.

He spins you around and leans down to kiss you, more hungrily this time. He stumbles to the bed with you and lays on top of you, his mouth never leaving yours.

God, the way he kisses you should be illegal. Because it isn’t only his tongue, it’s the shameless groans he gradually let out the more the kiss intensifies -the way he bucks his hips upwards so you can feel how hard each kiss makes him. You are having a hard time breathing steadily.

You pull him closer by his tie, your mouth brushing against his ear before you speak just so you could feel the way your warm breath makes him shiver. “You make me crazy.”

“Yeah?” He reattaches his lips to yours, kissing you like his life depends on it.

Your hands finds his tie but you never fucking touched a tie so you just pull until he breaks out in laughter. “Let me.” He removes the tie in one move and now your hands are on his buttons. 4 open and you can’t wait so you just yank it over his head. He wastes no time getting back to kissing you, his lips trailing down your jaw and neck.

Your hands caress every inch of his skin you could reach from your position, the softness of your touch eliciting sweet sounds from his lips.

He rutts his hips against yours and you gasp at the feeling of his very hard member pressing into you.

“Ross,” you whisper softly, losing yourself at his hands and mouth touching your body. “I need you,” you continue.

“I’m here,” he says, keeping his slow grinding motions going. “What do you need?” He asks, his face coming up close to yours.

His gorgeous brown eyes waiting for an answer. “Touch me.” You say.

“I want to take my time with you, let me?” You nod and he grins. His hands find your back and the zipper of your dress. In one smooth movement he pulls the dress off of you.

You’re exposed now and it’s not helping you ease your nerves, when he’s staring at you. Your hands find your face.

“Don’t,” he moves your hands away, “you’re fucking beautiful.” Maybe it’s the black lace set you decided to wear. But for Ross it’s more. He waited for this since he’s known you.

He kisses the nervous feeling away from your lips and meanwhile his fingers find its way under your panties. When his knuckles brush over your clit, you forget to breathe. When they barely skim your entrance, collecting arousal to drag back upward, your brain malfunctions. It is not enough, but when he finds a careful, introductory rhythm, it’s immediately bordering on too much, too good.

You gasp into his mouth, rolling your head back, closing your eyes at the new sensation. “Keep your eyes on me love,” he whispers against your neck, “need you to look at me.” You obey and open your eyes again.

Your stomach tenses and you are surprised by your own sighs and hesitant gasps as you try to adjust to the feeling of Ross’ hand between your legs. “Fuck-“ you moan and Ross groans against your neck.

“Feel good?” Stupid question, you think. He’s fucking amazing and hotter than you’ve ever imagined. You nod and whimper at the steady rhythm, rubbing your clit and his fingers hitting the perfect spot inside you.

He talks to you, asks you stuff and you can barely listen let alone answer him. “What do you think about when you touch yourself?”

“You,” you moan. It’s always him and it’s always gonna be him. Ross is your endgame.

He groans, “good answer.”

“Oh my god,” comes your breathy little whisper, unprepared for and intimidated by how good he’s making you feel. Filthy noises come from between your legs and you clench around his fingers. The sensation is getting too much and your back arches off the back, pressing your chest against him.

Ross is still in his suit trousers but he’s very uncomfortable because of his raging boner pressing against the fabric. Every once in a while he grinds himself against your thigh, letting out groans deep from his chest.

“There you go darling,” you can feel your orgasm crash over you. Eyes squeezing themselves shut as the pleasure rocked through you. Ross continues to curl his fingers inside you through the euphoria, until he gently removes his fingers from you, licking his fingers clean.

“Taste like heaven, shit,” he comes up to give you a deep kiss, “you ok?” He asks and you nod, cradling his face and pulling his body completely on yours, so he’s not half on you and half on the bed. His bulge finds your core, and he can’t control his thrusting anymore.

Your hands find his belt fumbling around trying to shove them off, “Off Ross, please,” you whine and he laughs pushing the pants down. But before throwing them behind him, he pulls out a condom out of his pocket.

“Patient girl, aren’t you?” He grins. That fucking smirk. You love that smile, his dimples. You love him.

After he puts the condom on, he gives his cock a few strokes but then his hand is replaced by yours. You look down but immediately look into his face, his eyes rolling back and filthy words falling out of his mouth. “Love, shit-“ he groans and thrusts up into your hand, his stomach tightens already but then he swats your hand away.

You know that he needs you and you’re burning for him as well. “Been patient enough, just fuck me.” He laughs and then he’s lining himself up with your entrance, his lips never leaving yours.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he half whispers, half groans into your ear.

You both gasp when he’s pushing himself inside of you completely. It stings a bit, “fuck- wait a sec.” He does as you say and he doesn’t move, keeping his hips still.

“You’re doing okay love?- Shit,” he breathes out, trying to study your face and then you open your eyes again, kissing him and putting your thighs on his sides, your legs pushing him even deeper.

He moans and it’s the best sound you’ve ever heard. “Move Ross,” He closes his eyes, taking a steadying breath as he starts thrusting into you. Your walls squeezing him tight, producing the most resounding groan you'd ever heard.

Ross keeps one hand on your hip, then placing his other on the headboard, knuckles turning white from his fierce and unrelenting grip. He tries so hard not cum right there.

You moan his name multiple times following after some “fucks,” or “Jesus’” and he just keeps going. Not slowing down but not going faster. He enjoys it and takes his time with you. Devouring every spot you’re giving him.

“Wanted this forever,” he says, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, “you’re so gorgeous shit-“ you clench around him again.

“Please Ross, god-“ Your continuous whimpers and pleas are sending chills down his spine, spurring him on.

“You’re Perfect,” He breathes, his hand running up your back affectionately as his hips repeatedly slam into yours. You start to instinctively push back against him, pushing him further.

You feel your orgasm approaching again and Ross notices too. “Go ahead love,” his thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow circles again while his cock hits your spot. You clench around him again, letting your orgasm wash over you.

It triggers his own, his hips stuttering before he collapses on top of you. You’re practically useless, your body feeling like jello, you close your eyes, relishing in the contact of his warm skin to yours.

You think about how your life will go on. Are you going to be together, was it a one time thing? You certainly don’t want it to be.

“You with me?” He laughs, making you giggle and hide in his chest. “Soooo with you,” you mumble.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” it’s a great gesture and you’re grateful but you need him. You grab his arm and pull him down again.

“Later,” you hum, “stay with me Ross.” He nods and furrows his brows, kissing every little spot on your head.

Your mind goes blank as you whisper into the air. “I’m so in love with you.” You close your eyes, trying to avoid his gaze but he lifts your chin with his thumb and pointing finger, taping your temple softly.

He says your name and when you open your eyes he’s already looking at you. He kisses you softy before confessing as well. “I’m so in love with you, you have no idea.”

One tear slips from your eyes which is quickly wiped away by Ross’ thumb. He rolls you on top of him, hugging your body so tight you both can’t breath.

“You think they noticed we’re gone?” You ask even though you’re sure they know and you’re not ready to listen to the banter in the morning.

“Now you worry?” His laugh is your favorite sound, it makes you smile again, nuzzling closer into his chest, which is moving up and down still a little faster then usual.

At some point his breathing steadies and so does yours and you fall asleep with him. Your dream has come true

#the 1975 #ross macdonald #matty healy #george daniel #adam hann #ross macdonald fluff #the 1975 fic #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald x you #ross macdonald smut #ross macdonald one shot

[wrestletotheground]

snap out of it - ross macdonald x reader

your boyfriend helps ease the tension when you're feeling stressed..

cw: 18+ minors dni!! smut, dom!ross, f!sub!reader, kitchen sex, fingering, d word, unprotected sex, p in v, orgasm denial, stomach bulging, squirting, degradation, lowkey kinda toxic but in a hot way <3

wc: 2.4k

~

you're walking- no. storming around the house like a raging bull. for what reason you don't even know. maybe it's the party you're hosting tomorrow, and the fact the house is an absolute mess.

you've woken up in such a mood, feeling like you're going crazy when every little inconvenience is piling up and fuelling the fire. there was no hot water in the shower, you burnt your toast for breakfast, and you're now running around in a frenzy trying to sort everything as if you're being hunted for sport. feminine rage, if you will.

you're muttering under your breath, picking through the piles of clutter in the kitchen when you're startled by your boyfriend placing a hand on your lower back. you jump, so lost in your thoughts that you didn't hear him coming.

'hi baby, whatcha doing?' he asks, wrapping his arm around your waist before you step away from him, rolling your eyes at his cheerful tone.

'ross, i'm sorry, I love you, but fuck off, I've so many things to do I don't need you distracting me, I've been cleaning all day and the place still looks the same and URGGH,' you practically scream, holding your head in your hands.

guilt washes over you, realising you've just essentially snapped at him over nothing, but you're too worked up to backtrack now. you continue what you were doing, ignoring ross' eyes burning a hole into the back of your head. you lift an empty wine bottle from the table to clear it away and start cursing under your breath when you notice it's left a stain that you're gonna have to sort out on top of everything else.

'darling you're too stressed over this, there's no need, just take a break and chill out, yeah?' rage pumps through your body. even though you know he's just trying to help, you can sense an undertone - an edge - in his voice that would usually have you on your knees already, but right now, you're in no mood for it.

'no, look, I've been putting it off it's just- there's so much to do, I'll be fine, okay?' it comes out more frantic and loud than you anticipated, making his face crease in concern. he puts a hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks.

'look at me,' he orders. you sigh and turn to look up at him, heart still pounding partly from the stress and now also from the intense look in his eyes. his hands are warm and heavy on your waist now, gripping onto you like you'd float away if he let go.

'I'm gonna fuck you until you calm down and you can't think of anything else but my name, and you're gonna fucking take it'.

okay, maybe you are in the mood for it. your stomach flutters and you nod silently, feeling like a lamb under the thumb of a lion. his soft yet demanding tone always makes you so turned on you give in immediately. 'there we go darling, daddy's gonna make you feel better, hm?' he says as one hand comes up to wrap around your neck, pushing in gently.

that word sends a rush of excitement coursing through you, and you manage to get out a strangled mix between 'yes' and a moan. you'll be good for him if it's the last thing you do, and you're so riled up you're already starting to channel that rage into desire.

you go to start towards the bedroom before he grabs you roughly, stopping you in your tracks yet again. 'where do you think you're going honey? you're gonna take it here like a good pet.' his tone is stern. 'but the-,' he cuts you off by slapping his palm on the side of your jaw, grabbing your chin and forcing eye contact. you feel a pulsing heat building in your core.

'do what you're told or I'll leave you here, I know you're fucking soaked for me already, clenching your thighs when I haven't even touched you,' he smirks, and you flush when you realise you've been inadvertently squeezing your legs together in a futile attempt to relieve yourself.

the thought of him taking you right here in the kitchen drives you crazier than you'd like to admit. the big sliding glass door that leads onto the garden is only a few yards away, giving any nosy neighbours a full show, but he doesn't seem to mind and you're already too desperate to stop now.

he hooks a finger through the belt loops on either side of your jeans and uses them to pull you forward, making you stumble into him. 'take these off for me darling,' he orders, breath ghosting over the side of your face as he tries to keep his composure.

you fumble around with buttons and zips until they're pooled around your ankles, stepping out and crashing your lips onto his with one hand already gripping the hair at the back of his neck. your tongues melt together, pure lust radiating off one another.

he toys with the hem of your shirt blindly until you get the hint and break away from him to throw it behind you. his breath catches in his throat and he can't help himself from grabbing at your tits instantly, pupils dilated beyond belief as he stares at them in awe. you giggle to yourself, tracing your fingertips under his tshirt and up and down his sides.

he gives you a questioning look. 'you're such a boy,' you laugh. his stare intensifies. 'oh yeah? don't think a boy would make you feel like this, hm?' he replies, bringing a hand down between your legs to cup your pussy and dipping his index finger under the thin fabric, making you moan. 'see?' he whispers. you smile coyly and kiss him again, more passionately this time.

dripping desire pools in your underwear when he grabs you and walks you a few steps towards the kitchen counter. he turns you to face away from him and pushes down on your shoulders. you fold with his touch, straightening out your back as your chest and arms fan out over the cold marble.

with one hand pinning you onto the countertop, he uses the other to rip your wet underwear down, letting them fall to your feet before you kick them away.

goosebumps prickle across your entire body when his fingers graze over your soaked cunt. you spread your legs wider instinctively, allowing him easier access. 'so responsive for me,' he mumbles behind you. he leans over your back, moving your hair to one side to nip and suck at your neck.

without warning, he shoves two fingers inside you, making you scream out in surprise and pleasure. he instantly takes his hand away and you exhale sharply at the sudden loss of contact before it comes back to land a sharp slap on your ass. 'shut the fuck up screaming like some sort of crazy bitch, the neighbours are gonna hear you. don't want them to know how much of a little slut you are do we?' you shake your head too quickly in response, teeth digging into your bottom lip.

after a moment of letting you sit in shame, humiliation, he plunges his fingers back in; this time you know better than to make too much noise. 'good girl, I know baby, I know,' he coos, gazing down at your trembling figure as his fingers work in and out of you.

'mmplease, feel so good,' you whimper, your hips jerking into him every time his thumb swipes your aching bud. the need for release is all consuming. the effect he has on you is unparalleled by anyone else. the way he works you up so much just to watch you crumble and writhe under him is enough to make you submit to his every word.

every bend and thrust of his fingers is delicate and precise, hitting all the right spots to have you doubled over in ecstasy, leaning your whole body weight on the counter to hold yourself up. 'gonna cum, please, ross, SHIT- what the fuck,' you practically sob, your climax that was right at your fingertips being suddenly ripped away from you. the second he knew you were on the edge, he stopped, pulling out his soaked fingers and drying them on your back. your head drops downwards in frustration as the fuzzy feeling inside you dissipates.

'you don't get to cum until I fucking say so, got it?' you let out a strained 'yes' sound, more of a whimper than anything. you nod your head and let your eyes fall shut in relief when you finally hear the sound of his belt being unbuckled.

'need me to fuck you stupid so you can think straight don't you love?' he says, placing a kiss just below your ear as he pulls down the waistband of his boxers just enough to to free himself from the constraints of the tight fabric. you glance down behind you and inhale deeply at the sight of his raging erection, already leaking in his hand before he even gets you into position.

he hikes your leg up, letting it rest on his strong forearm, fingers gripping into the soft flesh inside your thigh. the air hitting your cunt makes you squirm, but you manage to keep your balance, aching for him to give you what you need.

he lines himself up and you feel yourself get wetter, dripping onto him in anticipation. he slides into you with no resistance, groaning at how wet and perfect you feel around him. the full feeling of his thick cock stretching you out makes you see stars, whining softly as he builds up to a delicious pace that practically splits you in two. 'fucking hell, so perfect, just for me,' he rambles, mind going into overdrive already. 'just for you, daddy,' you reply, knowing how feral that word makes him at the best of times.

you can slightly make out your reflection in the tiles on the wall. the distorted image shows him practically fully clothed and you bare, at his disposal to use how he wants. the sight eggs you on further, and you lean up into his chest, moaning at the new sensation of his beard tickling the side of your neck.

with the angle he's at now, he's going so deep inside you that his cock pushes out your lower stomach. you look down and nearly collapse when you see a subtle bulge just below your belly button disappear and reappear with every thrust.

ross notices it too, and trails his hand down your stomach until he feels it. something feral unlocks in his brain when he feels the bump protruding, making him groan into your ear and fuck into you harder, somehow even closer now.

'shit, you feel that? feel how well you're taking me angel?' he says, pressing in on the spot. 'fuck, yes, more, please, daddy,' you whine, gasping when he starts groping at your tits, his chin resting on your shoulder as he teeters closer and closer to the edge.

'more, huh? this not enough for you?' you shake your head, and you can feel him getting more riled up by your reaction as his cock throbs inside you.

the knot in your stomach tightens further as his right hand moves down to circle your throbbing clit. you cry out at the sensation of him all over you all at once, and it takes everything in you not to let your thighs clamp shut. his name echoes from your mouth like a prayer.

the pressure is steadily mounting inside you, and you feel like you could let go any second. 'close... mm-' he slaps his hand onto your cunt, just above where he's pumping in and out of you, making you whine. 'i told you, you're not gonna cum until I say, need to teach you some fucking manners, brat,' he punctuates the last word with another harsh tap with his fingertips before continuing agonisingly slow circles.

the sting of the slaps mixed with the soothing warmth of his touch sends you into overdrive. the cold countertop digs into your palms, using it as leverage to push yourself impossibly further into him, following his pace carefully.

'jesus christ, ross, fuck, please let me cum,' you moan through gritted teeth. you don't think you've ever been this worked up, with him denying you of your orgasm twice already. you feel wound up, like a ticking time bomb that could explode any minute, and fuck, you need to, but you'll strain yourself to the last second to please him.

your core is on fire, warmth spreading all over your body, you can nearly hear the ringing in your ears already and you're about to start begging again before he snaps you out of your head. 'go on. cum all over daddy's cock, that's it- shit,' he curses when you clench tightly around him, the coil in your stomach finally snapping. you cry out as you gush all over him, little squirts splashing from you onto the floor in time with his movements. you grab onto him, pushing his hand onto your clit harder to work you through your high, the head rush like nothing you've ever felt before. it's electric, like a static current washing over you as your whole body convulses.

when he sees the pool of your slick shining on the tiled floor, it's over for him. his groans get louder and with one final push and a 'FUCK,' he tips over the edge, pulsing inside you and painting your pussy white.

your head feels hazy as you catch your breath, slowly coming back to reality. you barely register what's happened with the euphoria lingering in your body. 'did I...' you look down at the mess you made and realise you just squirted all over the kitchen and desecrated ross' hand and jeans in the process. 'fuck, that was so hot, i'm- christ,' he laughs, his head dropping onto your shoulder in disbelief.

'thank you,' you whisper. the stress that's been weighing on your chest all day has completely disappeared, but you're so fucked out you can't find any more words. he lets out a breathy laugh and braces you as he pulls out gently, holding you upright as you stand on two feet again.

'you were right, I'm not stressed anymore,' you smile, placing a soft kiss on his lips before starting to redress. 'daddy's always right,' he teases, a cheeky grin spread across his face.

~

#runs away and goes back into hiding #ross macdonald #ross macdonald oneshot #the 1975 smut #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald smut #the 1975 #ross macdonald imagine #the 1975 fanfic #matty healy #adam hann #george daniel #not a huge fan of this but we move 💅

[orangeinecstasy]

ross boyfriend thoughts ฺ｡*:･

an: hey everyone! one person told me they wanted a ross bf thoughts and because i can't control myself and because i love him sm i did it! also i tried a new format, lmk what you think!

cw: fluff and smut sections

cute simple dates

i already know ross is such a big romantic and would do something super amazing, like plan a whole day for the two of you. but i just know that he loves the cute little dates that you guys do. like going to brunch or having a movie night-- he's pretty much putty in your hand at those points. even if it's something random, like the two of you being up late at night, cooking a meal together, and dancing around the kitchen.

remembers all the things you like and buys them when he sees them

once again, big romantic. if he's at the shop or even in a different country and sees something you mentioned liking or wanted to try he's, of course, buying it.

doing his hair

there have been multiple moments where you braided his hair just because you could. i'm sure he puts on a front where he doesn't want to do it but ends up loving you messing with his hair and how happy it makes you.

constantly wearing his clothes

he loves seeing you in his clothes and how comfortable and safe they make you feel. i know it just warms his heart knowing something so simple that he does indirectly can give you so much joy.

semi-frequent pet name user

i don't think he uses them a ton, like he doesn't force it but lets it happen naturally. definitely lots of "loves" and "babes". doesn't mind at all you using pet names for him.

little spoon lover

i can see him after tour is over and just wanting to be in your arms and have you play with his hair. you make him feel safe and comforted and seen and he's not ashamed about that.

cold winter mornings

on the balcony together having a smoke with a cup of coffee. his arms are wrapped around your waist and he's pressing your back closer to his chest to preserve the warmth between you. you guys chat about anything and probably end up going back to bed.

100% a he fell first and harder

you guys probably met through friends and you'd already known about him a little bit. of course your friend hyped him up before you met him and as soon as his eyes landed on you he knew you were the one.

treasures of yours with him all the time

this is more of an on-tour thing, but i feel like he keeps one of your hair ties around his wrist or a photo of you in his wallet. little things like that so that you feel close to him

smut below the pictures

size kink

he loves the innocence of it. how just because he's bigger than you he can overpower you in so many ways. how doe eyes look up at him through lashes like you don't know what you're doing. how he can grip both of your wrists as he plows into you. just everything about it makes him go crazy.

hair pulling

i think this one is pretty self explanatory. i mean how could you not when it's right there?

munch, duh

he constantly wants to eat you out to the point where it's become another food group to him. if he had a rough day or if you did. if he's bored. he could be in-between your legs for hours if you let him pulling every orgasm out of you until you're pushing his head away to stop.

pleasure/soft dom

he just wants to make you feel as good as possible as much as he can, to the point where he's accidentally overstimulating you. i have an inking that he feels a little bit guilty when he gives out punishments, but good pets have to learn how to behave, right? (once he sees how much you love it, the guilt turns into pleasure)

sir kink

i started off really simple. you asked you to do something for him and you responded with "yes, sir." and he felt something wash over him. you could feel the energy in the room thicken after that moment until he broke and fucked you over the counter until "sir" was the only thing you could say.

wax play

blindfolds you and ties you up so you can't pull away as he watches your body's reaction to him pouring small amounts of wax on your skin. especially loves pouring it over your tits so he can sloppily mouth it off.

choking

he loves seeing you sloppy and drooly and purring underneath him, and choking only allows him to see that even sooner.

possessive

this is in and out of the bedroom. though it's not in an aggressive way, he wants you to know he's yours and you're his, and he doesn't have a problem with fucking that knowledge back into you.

cockwarming

so so innocent. he just wants to be close to you. if you're doing something for work or if he's working in the studio he'll always make it an option. especially during late nights when you're both too tired to fuck but want to feel something.

#the 1975 #ross macdonald #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald fluff #ross mcdonald smut #ross macdonald x reader #ross mcdonald oneshots #ross macdonald fic #matty healy #george daniel #adam hann #ross macdonald imagine #still at their very best #satvb

[hypersonic04]

Heaven In Your Eyes

Hi everyone! I think I’m finally getting back into the groove of writing, both in terms of actually writing and also feeling mentally okay to delve back into tumblr. This is pretty basic I fear, so please bare with me lol. I’m not too sure what the word count is, but it’s not super long. I’ve missed you all so much, and really hope you enjoy <3

“I didn’t think you’d pick up.”

“You’re joking, right?”

Breathy laughter tumbles down the telephone line, your knuckles white as you grip the phone in your cold fingers. Looking both left and then right, the street is bare of taxi’s. It’s 3am, you’re stood outside a nightclub alone in the middle of London, and there’s only one address you know off by heart.

“Y/n? Are you still there?”

His voice brings you out of your panic, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to get rid of the wine-instilled haze that seems to be clouding them.

“Yeah, sorry.” You inhale sharply, quickly glancing at the gaggle of girls falling out of the club doorway in loud giggles and clicking heels. “Are you at home?”

“Yeah, is everything okay? You’re worrying me, where are you?” The sound of him shuffling to his feet - you picture him in those navy plaid pyjama pants you’d bought him last Christmas, weary eyes and a furrowed brow as he awaits your reply.

“Can I stay over?” You grimace as the words slip out of your mouth. Asking to stay over at your ex-boyfriend’s flat because you can’t remember the address of your hotel is quite possibly your lowest point yet. Your feet hurt in the strappy heels wound tight around your feet, the spaghetti straps of your dress offering no warmth to your bare shoulders. It’s November, for Christ sake.

“Course.” He responds after a few beats, “do you need me to come and pick you up?”

“No, it’s okay, I can Uber.” Licking your lips, you spot a cab making it’s way to the queue, holding your arm out for it. “I won’t be long.”

“Okay, let me know when you’re nearly here.”

With that, you hang up and jump in the cab. The address rolls off your tongue without a second thought, like it’s tattooed onto your brain. It makes your heart ache a little. You wonder if it’s the same for another girl somewhere out there, if in the three months you’ve been separated, Ross’ flat has become someone else’s drunken retreat. You find yourself picking around the edge of your nail as you picture the unidentified her in his bedsheets, the ones you used to tuck tightly around his mattress in the mornings because you knew he liked it, the very same bedsheets that once smelled like you.

The taxi driver coming to a halt surprises you, and when you look out of the window, sure enough, his apartment building looms next to you. You pay the driver, sliding out of the car and sending a quick text to him.

It’s all too familiar, the way you wait under the porch, leaning against the brick while you wait for him to come and open the door for you. You reminisce in a way that you’ve avoided for the entirety of your time apart, a way that you knew would leave you sobbing if you dared to delve into the memories of him.

You stand up from the wall when his figure approaches through the frosted glass, tall and looming. Opening the door, his eyes are exactly as you pictured them - dark, creasing slightly at the corners as he smiles softly at you, tired from touring.

And he is wearing the pyjama pants.

“Hi,” he smiles lopsidedly, standing to the side to let you in.

“Hi.” You say quietly, quieter than you anticipated. “Thank you so much.” You turn to face him as he shuts the door, swallowing heavily. He just looks so comfy, familiar, home.

“You know you’re always welcome.” He scratches the back of his neck as he stretches a little, and it takes every ounce of self discipline and control to not watch as his sweater rides up, fingers tingling with the thought of running them over the soft skin at his waist like you used to. His hair is longer, it makes your breath hitch, and you know he notices in the way his eyes trail down your throat, your neck flexing as you breath in.

“Yeah, well, I’m really grateful.” You nod, the silence all consuming.

You follow him up the stairs as he takes the lead, heels clicking on tiles and your hand clinging to the handrail. He lets you into the flat first, and the way your stomach drops at the sight of it takes you by surprise. It’s like you can see ghosts of yourself in every corner - tangled together on the sofa, dancing together in the kitchen, sharing a cigarette on the balcony.

The sound of the door clicking shut and locking fills the room. You sit on the edge of the sofa and undo your shoes, his gaze burning into you. He’s stood against the doorway, eyes following your every move.

“Why are you in London, anyway? Alone?” He asks, and you can hear the almost jealous tone in his voice.

“Someone’s party, some publisher, I don’t know.” You mumble, the free cocktails finally taking their toll. “And yes, alone. Go on, call me a loser, I know it’s on the tip of your tongue.”

He chuckles lightly and you roll your eyes. That laugh, the hold it’s had over you from the second you heard it all those years ago, makes you angry, in a way. How dare he have that power over you? How dare his slightest chuckle remind you of every Sunday morning spent together, every drunken walk home, every party where you’ve been the only two people in the room?

Walking over, he takes your heels from you and sets them in the hallway, before coming to sit next to you. You’re looking up at the ceiling, knees pulled to your chest as you lull your head back.

“This is nice.” He muses, taking the sparkly material of your dress between his fingertips, rubbing it against them.

“Do you think?” You smile sleepily, tilting your head to the side, his eyes trained on the material draped over your legs.

It’s silent in the flat, and it dawns on you that he probably just stayed up to wait for you.

“Why were you up at 3am? I didn’t think you’d answer.” You say quietly, watching as his eyes meet yours for a second, before flicking back to the ceiling.

“Can’t sleep these days.” He huffs, chest rising and falling heavily. You remember how he used to fall asleep at the drop of a hat, head nuzzled into your chest, impossible to wake up, in fact.

He turns to look at you for a second, gaze falling to your lips, over your cheeks, nose, meeting your eyes again. It’s been three months since you’ve been face to face, and it almost makes you laugh how you ever thought you could forget him. It feels like you were tracing the outline of his lips only yesterday, every inch of his existence at the forefront of your mind, like a textbook you’ve read every day, laid in bed staring at the ceiling.

“How was the rest of the tour?” You whisper, still facing him.

“It was good, really good.” A faint smile ghosts over his lips, eyes softening ever so slightly as he thinks of the band. “Missed home though.”

“Hm, I bet.” You nod.

“How’s work?”

“Shit.” You say with a sputtered laugh, smile widening as you look at him, shaking his head with a giggle.

“Seriously?” He looks at you with tilted brows, wincing almost.

“Yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking, moving away from home. I don’t know, I just wanted a change after everything…” Your voice trails off. Silence consumes the room. You swear you can hear your heart beat against your chest, or maybe it’s his. “I guess I thought that if I moved away, if I changed every other area of my life, then maybe it would fix everything.”

You sigh, looking down at your hands.

“And it didn’t.” You glance at him as the words leave your mouth, wishing that you could get a glimpse into that brain of his. Cogs turning slowly, calculated, pondering over every word.

“When I heard you were moving, I assumed it was because you were going to be happier away from me. That’s why I didn’t do anything.” He runs a hand through his long hair, your eyes following as he does so, “Because you were leaving and I didn’t want to be the knobhead ex-boyfriend telling you to stay.”

“Who told you I was leaving?”

“George. He told me about the phone call.”

You inhale sharply, brow furrowing slightly as you remember that day vividly, sat in your London apartment surrounding by boxes, listening to George begging you to stay. For Ross, for the band, for Dirty Hit. How could you stay? How could you work for your ex-boyfriend’s record label, looking at pictures of him every day, his music playing constantly, surrounded by him? That’s no condition to move on. How can you pretend someone doesn’t exist when your to-do list at work revolves around him?

“If you’d have told me to stay, I would have.” You bite down on your bottom lip, glancing at him. It’s true. His shoulders rise and then fall as he listens to you. It goes quiet, the tension in the air turned to a sadness.

“I’ve missed you.” He says through a strained voice.

“I’ve missed you, too.” You smile softly, sadly almost.

His dark eyes twinkle in the dim light of the floor lamp. They’re chocolate, they’re pools of honey, they’re heavenly. Sticky and sweet and enticing, and you just know you shouldn’t have them, shouldn’t let yourself fall into them.

“Have you been seeing anyone?” He asks abruptly.

There’s a shift in the air, his eyes fixed on your lips as your tongue swipes at them, still sweet from the sugar of the mojitos you’d drank earlier. You wonder what his taste like as you stare at them, perfectly met, gravelly stubble begging to be met with your soft fingertips. You know what they taste like, and that’s the problem.

“No, have you?”

He shakes his head.

“God, we’re boring, aren’t we? No sex in three months. We’re in our prime, Ross.” You laugh loudly at yourself, his eyes crinkling as he does the same. He always loved the way you found yourself funnier than anyone else in the room, obnoxious giggles escaping your pretty lips as he watches them curve into a wide, toothy smile.

“You’re right, it’s tragic.” He huffs.

You glance at him, features soft, hazy under your gaze. He’s propped himself up with his hand, elbow leaning on the back on the sofa, looming over you ever so slightly. You watch as he brings his fingertips lower, lower, brushing a curl from your collarbone, twisting the end of it between his fingers, gentle, quiet, slow. You smile at him softly as he does so. Moving from your hair to the strap of your dress, your skin feels cold, goosebumps over every inch of you. He notices, dark eyes glancing at yours for a second.

“Ross…” you whisper.

He looks at you intently, a sense of worry in his eyes, almost. He wonders if he’s overstepped, if he’s misread the sighs.

“I’m sorry, I just…” he sighs slightly.

“No, I…” you shake your head at him lightly, “I don’t want you to feel like this is why I’m here. I didn’t come here to have sex with you, Ross. I came here because you’re all I could think of.”

He rubs at his chin, watching as your turn to face him properly.

“No matter where I am, London, Manchester, even the other side of the world, all I can think about is what would have happened if I’d not have left, if we’d have worked things out.” Tears prick at your eyes, maybe the alcohol, maybe the way he softens as you speak, as you place a hand on his knee. “I’m an idiot, and I run away when things get difficult, and this was the first time in my life I realised I’d fucked up massively.”

“You’re not an idiot.” He tucks some hair behind your ear.

“No, I am. I should have stuck it out, talked to you.”

He places his hand over yours on his knee.

“Stay, y/n.”

You take your bottom lip between your teeth, sighing deeply.

“You said that if I’d have asked you to stay, you would have. I’m asking you now. Stay.”

You nod, squeezing his hand in yours. His other hand is on the back of your head, pulling you to hun until your lips are slotted together. Your hands find either side of his head, leaning into him even more, feeling his fingertips brush the straps of your dress down your shoulders.

“I’m never leaving you again.” You mumble between kisses, feeling him nod as your lips meet.

#ross macdonald #the 1975 #1975 band #fanfic #matty healy #adam hann #george daniel #matty the 1975 #ross macdonald x you #ross macdonald fluff #ross macdonald blurb #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald fanfic #ross macdonald the 1975

[tillthelandslide]

For Better or For Worse - Ross MacDonald One Shot

Taglist: @scooby-doodoo @thereisaplaceintheheart @promocodesorry75 @eaglestar31 @thefrontofmymind @fallingforel @partoftheairforce @procrastinatinglikeapro @poisonmedaddy13 @xthe1975 @all-things-fic @jstbeeingme @rossgirly @juliardk @you-muppet @moodyyyychickx @k4tie75 @friedlandblog @insidemymind19 @zzzhealy @at-her-very-foreign (add yourself using the link in my bio 😊)

You stand anxiously at the side of the stage, Joel is next to you, although he leaves occasionally when Ross needs a different bass, but soon enough he's back by your side. You're thankful he's here, his shoulders graze yours and it's enough comfort to ease you slightly. The real comfort you need is performing on the stage in front of you. You know he'd also be thankful that Joel has stepped in to give you some support.

Joel watches as you wince when Ross does, how you suck in air through your teeth when pain covers his face. Your eyes rarely leave the blue band wrapped around his bicep, only flicking down to his hand when he flexes it, another thing causing him trouble as of late.

"What does the tape do again?" You ask Joel, probably the 10th time you've asked him. He isn't a medical professional by any means, but Ross has told him what the medics had told him, so he could tell you, knowing you'd worry.

"it prevents the overstretching and over contracting of injured muscles to stop his injuries getting worse" he says, sounding as if he had memorised it from a book.

You watch as Ross flinches again and you copy him "it's clearly not working". The song comes to an end and he flexes his hand again. You know Joel needs to give Ross a different bass but you stop him momentarily.

"Can you give him these?" You say, fishing the painkillers his doctor gave him out of your bag and popping two pills. Joel smiles before leaving you, bass (and painkillers) in hand.

You watch as Ross smiles a weak smile at you, walking over to his drink, which is usually some type of alcohol but is now replaced with water, and he takes the tablets. You feel slightly better after that, enjoying the show for a little while, your husband looking less pained.

But it's not long until it creeps back over his features and you sigh.

"What he needs it rest..." You hear behind you, turning to see Jamie who smiles before he hugs you.

"Rich coming from the guy that's got them fully booked until next March" you say but despite your words he laughs, knowing they didn't have venom behind them.

"Wasn't counting on him to get an injury" he says and you can tell he too is worried.

"He's still amazing though don't you think?" Jamie nods. He never falters despite being in pain and being injured and you feel proud watching him. But you are worried for him.

"He's resting as much as he can and he's taking his painkillers as prescribed and the tape seems to be helping" Jamie says but before he's gotten his words out you both watch as Ross removes the tape. You don't know why, perhaps it's irritating him, but whatever the reason is, it doesn't stop you from silently scolding him.

You wait until the very end of the show, watching him walk to the other side of the stage and waving to the fans there before he comes back to your side. He walks towards you with a smile, but he looks exhausted. Despite being a little mad at him you open your arms so he can step into them. He leans down to tuck his head into your neck and you place a kiss on his cheek.

"Did amazing sweetheart" you say and he hums against you.

"Let's get you back to the bus, we can put ice on your arm" you say and he pulls back to smile at you.

"What would I do without you hmm?" He asks and you chuckle, hand coming up to brush the stray hairs away from his slightly sweaty face.

"Fester" you say and he chuckles.

He wraps his arm around your shoulders but you hear him wince and remove it immediately.

"Fuck sake, can't even hold my girl" he exclaims, annoyed with the whole situation. You pout at him, feeling truly sympathetic towards him, not wanting him to be in any sort of pain ever, but knowing that wasn't realistic.

"Come here" you say, leaning up slightly and kissing him softly before gently rounding his other side and taking his other injured hand in yours. He smiles at you and you walk to the bus.

You offer to help him shower but he insists he can do it himself (after much rebuttal from you). Whilst he's in there you read up about other ways to help him. You help him get changed into a baggy jumper reading that tight clothing can make muscle injuries worse. You bring an ice pack wrapped in a towel to his arm and hold it for him, he smiles at you whilst you do, noting how concentrated you are. You hold it there for a while, whilst you speak about various things.

"Okay I was reading up ways to help you and it says to elevate your arm" you say and he slowly lifts it, resting it on the back of the sofa behind your head, quietly flinching at the pain that shoots up to his shoulder. But once he's still the pain dissipates and he's back to smiling at you.

"Thank you for doing this love" he says, leaning down to kiss you gently.

"You're welcome... For better or for worse, in sickness and in health right?" You say and Ross chuckles.

"Don't remember you saying that in your vows love... I vividly remember you saying you promise to always give me Guinness, to never make me explain football.... Oh and there was something about telling everyone I'm the hottest member of the 1975" you jib his stomach lightly at his jesting not expecting him to chuckle which in turn makes him flinch.

"shit" he swears at the new onslaught of pain.

"Ross I'm so sorry" you say, rising up slightly, eyes never leaving him to make sure he's okay.

"I'm okay love, I'm okay" he swears, hand pulling you back closer to him. "This is kicking my butt a little bit huh?" He asks and you nod as you frown at him. "Got you to look after me though hmm?" You nod "my little nurse" that makes you chuckle.

"I could get an outfit if you'd like" you say and he physically has to hold back his laughter to stop himself from hurting more.

"Love you're killing me here" he says with a soft chuckle pressing his lips to your head.

"Some wife I am..." You say as you sink to his chest.

"Shh don't say that... You're the best, all worried about me and looking up ways to help me" he says, pressing another kiss to your head.

"Well we can't have you making yourself worse and not being able to perform" you say and feel him nod above you. You crane your neck to look at him and he briefly leans down to kiss you.

"I know love..." He says.

"Besides, we gotta make sure Daddy's fit and healthy as can be when baby macdonald arrives" you say and it makes him smile widely, his left hand moving to rest against your bump. Gone are the days where that singular word would make him smirk like a schoolboy, gone are the days where that word would make him hold in his laughter. The word now, 4 months in, makes him smile widely and his heart swells in his chest, heart beating rapidly, looking forward to the day when his little girl says the same word.

"That we do" he says, the baby kicks against his palm, so attuned to her father.

"Although I'm convinced you'll always be fit" you say and he chuckles again.

"Even when I'm grey and old?" He asks.

"Especially then" you say. He laughs loudly, his whole body shaking, arm hurting him again.

"Think you're going to have to go away if you keep making me laugh love" he says, making you pout.

"I'm joking, my love" he says with a kiss to your lips.

"I swear to god if Matty changes the setlist one more time and makes you play something hard I'm going to kill that man" you say and Ross shakes his head as he smiles.

"We wouldn't want that... Who would be baby Mcdonalds godfather then?" He says, chucking at the way you exhale deeply.

"Literally anyone else Ross..." You say and he smiles.

"I love you so much" he says.

“I love you too, now hold still' you say, placing the ice back onto his arm. The pain eases from his face again and you smile, glad it's helping.

#my ross #ross macdonald #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald the 1975 #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald one shot #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald fluff #the 1975 fan fic #the 1975 fic #the 1975 fluff

[butyou-callmewhenyourebored]

The 1975 Fic Recommendations

Hi my darlings! You've all shown me all so much love for my Matty & Ross pieces that I've written so far! I am working on new stuff currently I'm just a very big procrastinator! Sorry!

But I just want to pass on and share the love with some of my fave pieces that I've read, for you all to enjoy too x

All links straight to the fics are below too! xo

Matty

Ruins by @yourtouchismidas

Chicken Shop Date by @imagine-that-100 & @alovesreading

Insufferable Arsehole by @tillthelandslide

At Their Very Best & A Theatrical Performance of an Intimate Moment by @lastnightwaskindofablur

Soft Sound by @byyourside28

Show Me Yours by @maxverstappensflatbrim

Who can say no to Bridezilla by @heyidkyay

An Encounter by @because-she-goes

Can't Catch a Break by @procrastinatinglikeapro

Haunt by @abiiors

Nothing Revealed in a Common Crisis (Matty & Alex Turner Love triangle) by @imagine-that-100

George

With a Sea View by @cowboylor

All is on my Side (Part 2) by @imagine-that-100

I guess I'll take this pain, instead of your name by @heyidkyay

Dress (Part 2) by @kennedy-brooke

Three's a Party (with Ross) by @abiiors

Ross

Meet Cute by @cowboylor

Quarter Past Midnight by @alovesreading

You are in Love by @hypersonic04

Ross Series by @hypersonic04

Wear My Name Around Your Neck (with George) by @procrastinatinglikeapro

Same for You by @tillthelandslide

All of the Ross x Teacher pieces by @hypersonic04

Begging for Trouble by @procrastinatinglikeapro

History and Drama (Part 2) by @writingchalamet

Thank you all for taking the time and effort it takes to plan and write out this wonderful stuff for us! If any of you have anymore you've read that you've liked, please send them my way! x

p.s if you see something you like on here please come send me a message so we can discuss and fangirl over it together! Love to you all x

#the 1975 imagine #the 1975 fic #the 1975 #matty healy imagine #matty healy fic #george daniel imagine #george daniel fic #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald fic #adam hann imagine #adam hann fic #the 1975 x reader #matty healy x reader #george daniel x reader #ross macdonald x reader #adam hann x reader

[64yrsold]

play with me (pt. 2) ross macdonald x reader

-> part 1 cw: 18+, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex

He kissed me, all familiar and equal, his lips falling between mine perfectly. He held my hips, gentle as he could, anchoring himself to me. 

“Come on,” I murmured, lips still pressed to his. He took a breath of me, hands finding the small of my back. He pulled me closer. “Baby.”

He laughed. He laid wet kisses down my jaw, finding my neck like an arrow finding its target. He sucked down my pulse, biting at my skin and drawing pretty mewls from my mouth.

“Hurry up,” I whimpered, wrapping my legs around his waist. I knew he would be hard for me, aching for me, dreaming of stripping me down on the counter and fucking me legless. 

“You’re tipsy,” he groaned, squeezing my outer thigh. His hands gripped me, cupped me like water. They kneaded and worked, remembering and memorizing.

“So are you,” I grasped for his hair, untying it quickly. It felt like a reflex. I slipped his hair tie onto my wrist.

“You’re impatient when you’re tipsy,” he tugged me closer, letting me feel his length between my thighs. I wanted to laugh or hiss, but kissed his neck instead.

“You like that.”

He huffed, upset that I was right, and slipped the strap of my dress off my shoulder.

“Why aren’t you wearing a bra?” He frowned, nipping at my collarbone. 

I giggled, “Why are you pretending to only notice now?”

“Fuck you,” he laughed in my ear, twisting my hair in his fist. I looked at him, lips plush and red, eyes glassy and dark. I thought I saw infatuation, deep behind his eyes, but it could have been lust.

“I like the way you stare,” I answered, and he bit back a smile. I brushed the other strap off my shoulder, letting him watch as my dress fell to my waist. He breathed in through his nose, eyes dragging over me.

He pulled a hand down my neck, palm dragging against my skin. He reached down to my heart, spreading his hand flat against my chest. I breathed into his hand like that, stuttering moans against his lips. I liked the magnetic space between our lips, fizzling between us like static as our lips threatened to brush into each other. I arched my back, my palms pressed to the bar to support me. His eyes were downcast, locked on my shaking chest.

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” he murmured, his hand falling between my breasts. He followed my sternum, up and down.

“Just tonight,” I suggested, shrugging. I rolled my head to the side, and watched him bite his lip, his eyes focused on the tendons flexing in my neck.  

He grunted, bringing his lips to the space between my collarbones, “You always say that.”

“Do you want,” I rested my chin on the top of his head, “you want me to beg?”

I put a hand on his shoulder to feel him sigh. He kissed down my chest, his tongue wetting my skin. I shivered when his hand cupped my breast, his thumb circling my nipple.

“Well?” I asked, my thighs tightening around his waist as his tongue licked up my breast. He kissed the underside, sucking and bruising the skin. His cock twitched against my core.

“Beg if you want,” he groaned, and reached up my dress, fingers curling around the lace at my hips. “You’ll get me either way.”

“That’s a good man,” I grinned, and he narrowed his eyes, tongue still teasing my nipple.

“Fuck off with that,” he muttered, and pulled down my underwear, balling it in his fist. 

“Good boy?” I tried, rolling my eyes as I caught him stuffing the pretty black lace into his back pocket.

“No,” he scrunched his nose, sighing when I turned my head away from his kiss. 

“Pretty boy? Handsome?” I giggled, twisting my hands into his hair. “Daddy?”

That did it.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, licking his lips to hide his smirk. He grabbed me by the waist roughly, pressing my wet cunt against the front of his jeans. 

“Ross?” I smiled, sheepish. My face flushed, “My Ross?”

His lips parted, and he dragged his hands up my thighs, my dress gathered at my waist uselessly.

“That’s better,” he nodded, eliciting a gasp when his middle finger swiped at the mess between my thighs. I groaned, a throaty, needy beg. His finger toyed with the slick of me, aimless and bored. I held his wrist, hoping to pull him into me, but he was immovable. He held my gaze, finger circling the cusp of my entrance. 

“Please,” I breathed, high and pretty. “Ross.”

He kissed me, and pushed a finger into me. I whimpered, the vodka making me forget how to keep quiet. He didn’t seem to mind, adding his ring finger to placate me. He knew I’d be begging for his cock next, and brushed my clit with his thumb to keep my head spinning. I should have been embarrassed, the way I arched my chest into his, how I clawed his button-down open, how I cried and swore at only his fingers. But he only encouraged me, rewarding me with a faster pace.

“I want you,” I moaned, unbuttoning his jeans. He pressed his tongue to mine, muttering something about patience into my mouth. I ignored him, clenching around his fingers as I palmed his cock. 

“Come first,” he said, and pulled his fingers from me counterintuitively. “Then you can have me. You’d like that?”

I nodded, trying to kiss him, but his hand pressed into my chest. He laid me down on the bar, grabbing my already-trembling thighs. I whined as he draped my legs over his shoulders, kissing the inside of my thigh roughly. My face twisted at the scratch from his beard, but I was quickly soothed by the softness of his tongue trailing up my thigh. 

“Ross,” I managed, crying out as he flattened his tongue against my clit. His hands dug into my legs, holding me in place as I tried to squirm into him. He was still, just holding his tongue against me. I dropped my head against the bar, knowing he wanted me to relax. I took in a deep breath, pleasure burning dull and hot down my veins. 

“I didn’t even have to ask,” he spoke, lips brushing my clit. I jolted each time his voice vibrated into me, and he laughed. “My good girl.” He was teasing, but his words still made me flutter.

I curled my hands into fists, and let out a string of expletives as his tongue licked up my center. He found his way back to my clit, circling and sucking. He moaned into me, making my cunt throb. My head rolled, my hands tugged at his hair, I spat and whined and cursed. I was there, I was throbbing for him, I was shattering and scattering to pieces.

He dipped his fingers into me again, fucking a delicious rhythm into me. I tightened and relaxed, I was breathing so heavy I felt dizzy. 

He was fucking relentless, giving me everything I had wanted in quick succession. I saw blue and red, crowding the edges of my vision as he dragged me over the edge. 

“Almost there, aren’t you?” He squeezed my thigh. “Let me have it, darling.” 

He kissed my clit, sucking it between his teeth. It was a twisting sort of pleasure, making my vision blur and my heart stutter. Then he lapped at me prettily, making up for the pain tenfold. I was gasping, praising him, begging him to slow down, chanting for him; I’m there, I’m there.

I came with a final flick of his tongue, crying out and pulling his hair. He hummed, buzzing up my thighs, curling his fingers inside of me. I cracked under him, weightless and gone. I was nothing in front of him, unmoving as he drew his fingers from me. 

“All talk, you are,” he pulled me to sit up. I lay weakly against his chest. “Come on, I’ll take you to bed.”

I shook my head, “I can do it.”

“Sure you can,” he huffed, and picked me up off the counter. My feet hit the ground unsteadily, still wobbly and pathetic from my orgasm. I leaned against the bar, watching him breathe a laugh as he pulled my dress up over my breasts. He tried to put my arm through the strap, but I slapped his hand away.

“I’m fine,” I urged, and slid my dress down. It pooled at my ankles.

He looked up and away from me. 

I held his wrist gently. I leaned up to kiss him, but he wouldn’t bend down to meet my lips. I huffed.

I turned my back to him.

“Let’s get you to sleep, okay?” He mumbled, and I caught his gaze in the mirror behind the bar. I smirked, stretching my hands in front of me. I slid them up the counter, the wood pressing into my forearms. I arched my back, spreading my legs. Just enough space for him to stand between them.

“Fuck me,” I stated, watching his darkening eyes, unable to look away from my needy cunt.

“Fuck,” he breathed, the heel of his hand against his erection. “You can do it?”

“Mhm,” I nodded, smiling at him in the mirror. “You know I can.”

He threw his head back, groaning loudly. I throbbed at the sight, his pulse pounding up his neck, his palm to his cock.

I pressed my tits to the bar, looking back at him. He pulled himself from his briefs, stroking his length in his fist. His tip was glistening as he held himself, just standing behind me, contemplating what to do. His pace quickened, and I grew jealous, watching him pleasure himself without me. I was tempted to turn around, or to swipe at my clit, but couldn’t break from the trance that the sight of him held on me. I wanted to lick the pink from his cheeks.

“You look so pretty,” he breathed, and I saw the sheen of sweat gathered on his neck. He must have been desperate, holding himself back from me for so long. He had been restrained all this time, not wanting to be mean. Maybe he would change his mind.

“I feel pretty too,” I murmured. “I think. Why don’t you tell me?”

He stifled a moan, and grabbed my hip with his free hand. He ground into me, dragging his cock up and down my slit.

“You feel fucking soaked,” he sighed, finding my entrance and edging the tip of his cock into me. “Such a perfect fucking cunt.”

My mouth opened, feeling him tease and stretch and dig his fingertips into my hip. I wanted to watch him, to see his chest heave as he tried not to overwhelm me, to see the constricted muscles in his forearm. I was too busy feeling to look, desperate to grind my hips to his and let him fill me. Instead, I whimpered on the counter, listening to his praises as he slowly pushed into me.

“You alright?” He asked, bottomed out and breathless. I circled my hips carefully, hoping to give him his answer. He choked back a moan, slapping my ass in response. “Fuck, could you just use your words for once?”

“I’m alright, baby,” I giggled as his hand ran up my back. He found my shoulder, gripping it tightly. My heart beat in a slant, anticipating what it knew would happen next.

“You’re forgetting to breathe,” he commented, still buried inside of me. 

Obviously, I wanted to spit. I took a heavy, careful inhale, letting his hand feel the air in my lungs.

“I don’t remember you being this…” he massaged a thumb into my shoulder, “obedient.”

“Just fuck me already,” I cried, my legs quivering and my skin on fire for him.

“There she is,” he said, and I looked back to see his grin. He raked his fingers through my hair, looking down at me with his pupils blown. I wondered what he was thinking for a moment, his eyebrows drawn together as he watched his hand run through my hair. Then, he was splitting me open, his eyes closed as he thrusted and moaned. I let out a muffled cry, trying to turn my head away from him. His grip on my hair held me in place. He snapped his hips into me at a gratifying pace, finally praising me for my patience. The sound of his skin on mine made me whimper, filling the bar with pretty sounds it shouldn’t know. 

“You feel so good,” I whined, and he trailed his hand to my back. 

“Yeah?” He already knew, but pushed into me harder, watching my face twist. I wanted him to tell me I was pretty, to tell me I was good, to tell me I was everything. He showed me instead, filling me up until I thought I would overflow. My exhales were stuttered, punctuated by his hips. Pleasure spun around my head, flittering up my thighs and twisting below my stomach. He should have been getting sloppy, grunting as he chased his orgasm, reckless and crazed. Instead, he was infuriatingly rhythmic, a constant bombardment I couldn’t lose focus of.

“Ross,” I crooned, gasping between his thrusts.

“You’re alright, you’re alright,” he mumbled, knowing I was asking permission to fall apart. “I’m right there.”

I squirmed under him, finding his hand pressed into the bar above my shoulder. I wrapped my fingers around his wrist, anchoring myself to him as I cried out. He liked that, sucking air in through his teeth as he quickened his pace. I was drowning in the bliss he shattered through me with each thrust, each gasp, each muffled groan from his lips. My breaths were thinning, becoming less frequent and more desperate. I wondered if it had always felt this good.

“I can’t, I can’t,” I panted, legs shaking under me. 

“Come on this cock for me, pretty girl,” he whispered, wrapping an arm under my stomach to take the weight off my legs. I whined, eyes shut in an opiated trance, my heartbeat loud in my ears. “You’re perfect– fuck, perfect.”

He reached a hand between my thighs, pressing two fingers against my clit. I choked through a gasp, straining to look back at him. He was still pounding into me, snapping up into my ribs, pretty beads of sweat collecting at his hairline. His eyes found mine and I slipped, pleasure shearing through me as I finished around him. He groaned at the way I shook under him, losing his militant rhythm and fucking into me lazily. 

“Shit, can I–”

“Yes,” I interrupted, nodding wildly. He cursed loudly at my eagerness, tightening his grip around my waist. I was in complete bliss, fucked out and humming underneath him. He thrusted against me, sucking in a breath before spilling into me. He filled my aching cunt, stilling inside of me as his cock twitched. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, pulling out of me with a sigh. I frowned at the lack of him, limp on the counter as he pressed kisses into my dewey back. “You alright to stand, sweetheart?”

“Mhm,” I sighed, peeling myself off the bar. My legs were barely able to hold me up, loose and hollow. 

“You sure?” He laughed, turning me towards him and pressing a kiss to my forehead. He guided my hands to his shoulders, kneeling before me to pull up my dress. His thumbs dragged over my skin as he brought it up, kissing at my navel and along my sternum.

“Stay in my room,” he said, pushing my hair behind my ear, “Please.”

I nodded, pressing my flushed cheek to his chest. He sighed, and ran a hand up and down my back.

#the 1975 #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald #ross macdonald smut #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 smut

[adore-healy]

Talk!

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

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

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

Talk!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She’s hot.

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

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

And …

… Matty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were both hurting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh babe,” she whispers sadly.

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

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

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

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

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He anchored you.

But you drowned anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“’s loud,” you whimper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You need to lighten up, sweetheart.”

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

He was alone, too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The man opposite you furrows his brows.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But ultimately, you were alone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Were you ready? 

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

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

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

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

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

One time wouldn’t hurt you.

“I’m ready.”

*

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

“Fuck,” he groans softly. 

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

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

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

Matty understands, immediately.

“Upstairs?” he questions. 

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

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

“‘s wrong?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Raising an eyebrow, Matty looks puzzled at his friend. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So many questions were whizzing around his head right now.

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

Were you here alone or did you have company? 

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

He hadn’t already seen you — had he?

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

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

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

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

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

Ross and Chloe.

George and Charli.

Adam and Carly. 

Matty and … nobody.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ross. 

“She …” Matty stutters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Matty shakes his head. 

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

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

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

Carly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Matty whimpers, knowingly. 

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

“C’mon y/n,” Ross repeats.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Hann!” Matty shouts.

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

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

“Fuck,” Ross mutters underneath his breath. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What for?” Ross frowns.

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

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

“She saw me,” Matty confirms.

Ross nods his reply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She won’t,” Ross replies confidently.

“How can you be so sure?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can go and see her.”

*

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

Questions plague his mind as he runs through several scenarios.

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

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

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

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

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

Still, you were conscious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was so scared,” he whispers. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Determined to soothe you, Matty reassuringly squeezes your hand.

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

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

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

You copy him, mirroring his actions a few times.

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

“No, no, I’m fine,” you assure him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Home. 

Matty wonders where home is for you now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You give a small nod and shrug in tandem.

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

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

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

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

You shake your head in protest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know,” you shrug.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you,” he murmurs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Darling,” Matty gently warns.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I promise.”

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[thefrontofmymind]

nothing's changed (teacher!ross x teacher!reader)

a/n: here she is! this was like the longest oneshot i think ive ever written. i would like to thank @hypersonic04 and @abiiors for letting me talk at them about this, i needed the encouragement.

WC: 7.1k

masterlist

The music in the crowded club was overbearing. You were never one for parties in your teenage years, and the same could be said for your two years so far at university. You could hardly think straight. 

Shuffling between the hoards of people–as drunk as you wish you were, just so you could loosen up just a little–balancing the drinks for yourself, your flatmate, and her newest boyfriend. You quickly placed them on the table your group had set up shop at, the three glasses were moments away from slipping between your fingers.

“Last drink here, is that alright?” You flatmate, Ellie, yelled into your ear.

You nodded.

“Okay.” She took a sip of her vodka, lime and soda. “Some of Jack’s friends are at a bar like two minutes away, we were gonna link up with them for a while.”

You just nodded again. You were always going along with her, and her boyfriends’, plans. Ellie was always so much more social than you. You met the first week of your first semester at a Fresher’s party and you’d just clung on since then. 

For you, university was a means to an end, not for fun–because it was always more stressful than fun for you. The end in question; a fulfilled life. Living in a comfortable life with a job that you didn’t have to love, just not hate, in a flat that didn’t have to be the fanciest, just not the dingiest, in a historical city with good enough public transport. 

You downed your drink as fast as you could, just itching to get back to your flat to have a nice shower and to lay in your fresh sheets.

It was colder outside than what you remembered it being like only an hour ago, the wind had picked up and went right through the denim jacket that was wrapped tightly around you.

The three of you walked to the next bar. Jack had an arm around Ellie, pulling her into his side to keep her warm. You walked alone.

“So what are these friends like, then?” You asked on the way.

“They’re so nice! You’ll love them!” Ellie said excitedly. Obviously the four drinks she had at the last club had caught up to her.

“They’re good blokes,” Jack answered. “You’ll like ‘em, I think, a lot of them are into music stuff so you’ll get on with them.”

Pretty much the only thing Jack seemed to know about you was that you were studying music teaching, so if some of his friends–who you assumed would be just as…’lad-ish’ as him–had the same interests as you, perhaps this wouldn’t be a total drag of a night. Who knows, maybe you could even get one interesting conversation out of it.

You got through quite quickly, being a group of mostly women, the security guards ushered you three right in. This bar was a bit calmer; not as packed and they were playing music that was more than just electronic beeps over and over again.

Jack pointed out a group huddled in the corner. Probably around 10 people, all laughing with each other.

After multiple introductions of “I’m Ellie’s flatmate” you could finally get to the bar and get another drink. As you were waiting, a figure walked to stand beside you. One of the guys you’d just met, but for the life of you, you couldn’t remember his name in the blur of everyone you’d just met. …Ron? No that’s not right…Chris?

He smiled at you politely. It was only then that you realised you’d just been staring at his face with your eyebrows furrowed in thought. You quickly snapped out of it, focussing your gaze on the bartender who was slowly making her way through the hoard around you.

“So I didn’t catch it…what are you studying?” He asked.

“Music teaching, focusing on secondary school,” you answered.

“That’s cool,” he said. “I’m studying teaching too, history.”

“Are you a second year?”

“No, third. You?”

“Second.”

“Right…that’s why you asked me if I was second…” He said, seemingly mostly to himself. “I’m in a band though.”

“Oh! Really?” You asked with a smile.

Your drink was finally handed to you, but you stood at the bar and waited for…Ryan? To order.

“Yeah, with Matty and Adam over there…” He pointed to the group, though you had no way of knowing which of them was Matty and which was Adam. “I’m the bassist.”

“Always the coolest instrument!” You commented.

Once he’d gotten his pint, you both walked back over to the booth the group was currently occupying. You were glad it was more of a ‘sit down and drink and talk’ kind of bar and not a ‘dance with sweaty strangers in the dark’ kind of one. The man slid onto the end of the booth, before shoving the person next to him to shuffle over, then patting the newly made spot next to him. You sat down. It wasn’t a lot of room, but when he noticed, he kept an arm around your waist to keep you from slipping. The only thing you could think was just how comfortable it all felt.

“So this is Matty, the-uh-singer,” he said pointing to the guy next to him with square-framed glasses and a mop of dark hair on top of his head. A stark contrast from the buzzcut of the man with the arm around you.

“Oh c’mon I’m more than just the singer, Ross!” Ross! It was right on the tip of your tongue!

You barely even thought of Ellie, your safety, the rest of the night. You drank and chatted with Ross and you didn’t think you’d ever enjoyed someone’s company as much as his. Somehow, you both just understood each other, you agreed on everything.

The clock ticked on and the group began to get thinner and thinner. Ellie crouched next to you at your spot in the booth around 3.

“We were thinking of going home,” she said. You didn’t want to leave. You didn’t want to go back to being lonely and be forced to listen to Ellie and Jack have sex through the wall for the thousandth time. She saw your face. “Please! My feet are killing me and I just want to go home!”

“I’ll be happy to take you home if you don’t want to leave yet?” Ross piped in, looking at you.

You nodded without even thinking.

“Okay!” Ellie said. “See you later!”

Her and Jack were out the door in seconds flat, leaving you now with a group of only four strangers. Well, three strangers and Ross.

You joined in the conversation between the group for a while, but it was getting late and you were starting to get tired. You leant more into Ross, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Want me to take you home?” He whispered to you–now possible with just the last stragglers left in the bar.

You groaned. “Those two are probably fucking, I really don’t want to walk into that.”

He let out a small chuckle. “Well, do you want to come back to mine then?”

You knew what he meant with the question. And it was something you didn’t have to ponder on much at all.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

After saying your ‘goodbye’s and ‘it was great to meet you’s to the group, you and Ross left, his hands never leaving your waist as you let him out onto the street.

“It’s just down this way,” he said, nodding his head to further up the now pretty deserted street. “Couple minutes.”

On any other night, you would’ve been scared to walk around the city at night, but with Ross you just felt so safe. With a constant grip on your hand as you both walked, you never felt unsupported.

His flat was small–expected with him being a student like yourself. You noted the bass sitting on a stand in his living room, and the teetering stack of textbooks next to it.

“Do you want some tea or something?” He asked, moving to his kitchen to click the kettle on and get a bottle of milk out of the fridge. “I also have coffee if you want, but-y’know-it’s a bit late.”

“Tea sounds good,” you answered. “With two sugars, please?”

“Of course,” he said.

As he made the tea, you got comfortable on his sofa–taking off your trainers and settling into the corner of it. You began to daze out, your eyelids were getting heavier and heavier. You didn’t even notice them shut completely until you heard a light clank of Ross placing the two mugs on the coffee table. You jumped awake.

“Sorry! Didn’t mean to wake you!” He said.

You moved your legs from taking up the whole sofa so he could sit. Without words he pulled your feet onto his lap, like it was the most natural position in the world.

“I wasn’t asleep!”

“No, you’re right,” he answered. “Snoring with your eyes shut is always the make of someone wide awake.”

“Oh God, was I snoring?” You suddenly felt so insecure. Sure, you felt so comfortable with Ross but you still only met him a few hours prior, it wasn’t time for you to be so…honest.

“A little,” Ross said. “More like little snorts, it was cute.”

You couldn’t help but blush a little. “You’ll need to play me a song one time.” You motioned to the teal bass on the other side of the room.

“Oh, I don’t know…Bass lines are so boring, they're like nothing.”

“Hello? You’re talking to a music student here!” You laughed. “If anyone would appreciate bass, it’s me.”

“One day then…” He grinned.

Conversation was just so easy. Even in your exhausted half-asleep state, you were never bored and it all just flowed so easily. Somehow talking to Ross–now alone–woke you up.

You weren’t sure when it happened, but somehow, you’d scooched down the whole length of the sofa, and were perched in Ross’ lap, wrapped in his arms.

Your faces were so close together, it would’ve been weird if you didn’t kiss him. And boy, were you glad you did. You've watched so many movies throughout your life where they talk about fireworks with the perfect kiss, and you thought it was just a movie cliche, until now. His kiss was warm, but somehow at the same time, like a breeze of fresh air. There was no awkward shuffling around, you both just fit together so well.

You felt his tongue swipe across your lips, you opened them. As the kiss got deeper and deeper, you both got more and more handsy–roaming around each others’ bodies, discovering every curve and outline of each other.

Eventually you had to part for a proper breath, though you didn’t stray far, keeping your forehead resting against his.

“Hi,” you said once you’d both opened your eyes again.

“Hi,” he chuckled.

You wanted to go further, you really did, but fatigue was hitting all your muscles at once, you couldn’t go on.

“I’m sorry…I’m really tired,” you said.

“Don’t apologise, it’s okay,” Ross answered. “Do you want to just go to bed here?”

You nodded. “Do you have like a shirt or something I could change into?”

“Yeah, of course.”

It felt like when you were a kid after a long summer day, so exhausted and yearning for the comfort of rest. Ross’ bed welcomed you well, so cosy and soft you practically sank into it.

You’d never gotten to sleep easier than that night, in the arms of a stranger who you felt like you’d known forever.

~~~

You thought after you were out of school, the end of summer wouldn’t affect you as much. Though you didn’t take into account that the end of summer would mean the start of your working year.

For some reason you were nervous–a new school with new students and new coworkers to meet, but that wasn’t something foreign to you. It was your sixth school, your second as a full time teacher. This time you were replacing a retiree, big shoes to fill.

You walked through the hall that would take you to your class, a route you took a couple times during the summer to prep the room and make sure you knew the layout just a little–though the ladies in the reception office were kind enough to give you a printout of a map of the school, you never were all that great with anything visual.

You got there early, there was a staff meeting before the start of the day and you wouldn’t miss it for the world. After setting up the room for your first class, Year 9’s, you headed off. You weren’t alone in the route, a woman about your age came out of the room next to yours.

“You must be the new music teacher!” She said. “I’m Lou, drama teacher.”

After introducing yourself, you both walked together. You couldn’t quite hide your nerves, you’d never been able to hide any emotion well.

“Don’t be nervous, alright?” She placed a reassuring hand on your forearm. “After the old bag Higgins before you, the bar could not be any lower.”

“So I won’t be hazed or anything?” You joked.

“God, no! Some of us threw a party the day he announced his retirement!”

You smiled. At least now some of your fears were alleviated.

But just as some fear left you, your blood ran cold with shock as you walked into the staff room. Standing at the coffee machine, was the man you hadn’t seen since you were in university, the man that still had the power to shatter your heart into a million pieces now over a decade after you last spoke. Ross.

He was bigger–burlier–than before. And his hair was long, tied up neatly in a small bun on the crown of his head. You were surprised at how he pretty much looked the exact same, just different. You could tell his skin had seen a good handful of sunny days, and as he squinted to look at the screen of the fancy coffee machine, you could see the lines on the corners of his eyes that showed a decade full of smiles and laughter.

Lou stared at you, as you stared at him. You were frozen in place, silent as a church mouse. Once the new figure had caught his eye, he saw you.

“Hi…” He said. And seemingly without thinking, his feet brought him to stand in front of you and his arms independently wrapped you in a hug–a hug you hadn’t had in years.

“It’s been forever!” You squeezed him as tight as you could.

In the elation you felt, you realised that a coworker who you’d only known for about five minutes was still standing next to you two.

“So you know each other then?” She asked.

“We went to uni together!” Ross grinned. How you missed his smile.

The headmistress, Janine–your boss–entered the staff room.

“I see you’re getting to know the rest of the team,” she said, sternly.

“Old friends catching up, Janine,” Ross answered.

The whole staff sat down at the tables around the room as Janine called to attention. You panicked for a second–suddenly you were back to worrying about who to sit with–until Ross pulled a chair next to the one he’d settled in.

~~~

You woke up to glaring sunlight, and an unfamiliar bed. You quickly put the pieces together from the night before; the bar, and Ross, and his flat. 

You could hear his TV on through the closed bedroom door. You didn’t know why you were trying to be quiet, maybe somehow Ross forgot about your existence and you didn’t want to frighten him. Opening the door, you were met with the sight of Ross on the sofa, watching an old episode of Gavin And Stacey.

“Good morning,” you said, all gravelly.

“Morning.”

He didn’t look at all ill at ease, unlike you. He was ever so relaxed lounging on the sofa with his legs taking up the whole length of it.

“Can I sit?” You asked.

He patted his lap. It was a bold move, but one that you wouldn’t say no to. You laid on top of him on the sofa, shuffling a little to get comfortable. You instantly felt warmer as he held you. 

“I’m sorry about last night?” You said.

“What d’you mean?”

“Like you bringing me here and then us not…you know.”

“Oh, don’t apologise,” he scoffed. “I didn’t…ask for it.”

“Well you kind of did…”

“I was doing a favour for a friend,” he answered. “You needed a place to stay, and I had a place.”

“So we’re friends then…” You said–more to yourself than to Ross.

“If you want to be.” You felt his hand on the small of your back grip like the tiniest bit tighter.

“I don’t know if I could be just a friend,” You said. “But I’m not…ready to be more than a friend.”

“I’m sure we could figure out an arrangement.”

And you kissed him. Even with the morning breath and the awkward angle, it had as much heat and fire as you kiss from the night before. This was definitely something you couldn’t give up.

~~~

Ross was kind enough to walk you back to your class. ‘In case you get lost’ was his reasoning–not that you complained. You two got right back into the rhythm of the past, talking like you hadn’t spent years desperately not trying to look each other up to see what you both were up to.

It was kind of strange. It was like you’d been transported back to being your nineteen year old self again, anxiety and all. Though like then, simply Ross’ presence was enough to calm you. It was muscle memory, walking close enough to him to feel the warmth off his skin and keeping the pace to keep up with him.

Saying goodbye to him at your door, it was hard to not ask him to stay–like old times, though now he really couldn’t stay, and no badgering and begging would be able to convince him.

You just couldn’t fathom your luck. Out of thousands of schools you could’ve worked at, the one that hired you was the one he worked at. You thought you would never see him again after…everything. You didn’t realise that you were very well close to losing that vivid memory of his face, his smile, the joy he brought to a room.

Your morning lessons were spent trying not to think of him. You were working, you had to focus. Your students weren’t nearly as intimidating as you thought they would be, it seems they all had the same sentiment for your predecessor as your coworkers had. 

And by lunchtime, you already had a few favourites. A group of Year 10s who sat at the very front of the room and constantly asked you questions about yourself instead of the material you were teaching–Hayley, Daniel and Lily. You told them a little; where you grew up, the music you liked as a teenager, and you may have let it slip that you knew a teacher, though you managed to catch yourself before letting them in on who. You didn’t quite know how to approach all this, you didn’t know quite what you could say. You should talk to Ross first, it won’t be an easy conversation but it has to be talked out.

You didn’t have to wait long, because as you sat at the desk in your classroom, fiddling with the salad you brought from home while going over your lesson plans, you heard a knock on the door.

“Yes?” You said, trying to put on your best ‘teacher voice’.

“It’s me.” A voice you recognised very well.

Ross stepped into your classroom–oh so gently, as if his steps had the capability to break the floorboards. He took a seat at the desk closest to you. 

“So how’s everything so far?” He asked. “No one giving you trouble?”

“Couldn’t ask for better pupils,” you answered with a smile.

“Good…I’d have to tell them off otherwise.”

You laughed. “I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that!”

“Oh c’mon you know I’m not scary…” He leant in to whisper to you. “Just don’t tell all them.”

You were surprised at just how natural it all came back to the two of you, falling back into that groove. You had a great sense of relief, gaining more and more with each playful quip.

Though soon enough you heard the bell that meant the end of lunchtime, and Ross had to go back to his classroom.

“So I’ll see you, then,” you said to him.

“Yeah, coworker,” he smiled.

~~~

You got into a routine with Ross. You acted like friends most of the time, but with enough liquor or loneliness running through you, you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. You loved the exhilaration of sneaking away on nights out with your amalgamation of friends to get up to filthy things at whoever’s flat was closer–or a public bathroom or two if it was just too far of a trek.

All your friends pretended not to notice your looks at each other, not because they disapproved, it just wasn’t something you two either spoke about–even when Ross would spend the night at your flat and Ellie would get a fright in the morning seeing him making two cups of tea in the kitchen. It was more like an open secret, something people only knew about if they really paid attention.

You both still went on dates with other people, that was part of the appeal. You only wanted flings, and it seemed that no one else was on the same page as you–apart from Ross. And it worked the other way too, you knew Ross would go on just as many first dates as you, though he never really divulged to you like you did to him. You worried he didn’t want to hurt your feelings–like you could have your feelings hurt…

You were never as happy when you weren’t with him, sweaty and basking in the afterglow. You told each other everything, all your secrets, all your stories from your childhoods, everything you hoped for in the future. Something with the two of you just fit, call it fate or whatever else you believe in, but somehow you met at just the right time for it all to come together perfectly. Well, almost perfectly.

“Did you have any boyfriends when you were in school?” He asked one morning when you both had nowhere to be and made yourselves very comfortable in his bed.

“Jealous?” You laughed.

“Just making conversation…” He explained with a smile.

“There was one, Will, he was nice…” You answered. “And no one else of much importance.”

“Well what made him so important?” Ross asked.

“He was my first boyfriend, my first love, you know?”

Ross sighed. “Not really, not been in love before.”

“Really? Not ever?” You asked in disbelief.

“I guess I’ve just been too busy for it,” he answered.

You felt bad. As much as love had hurt you, it was a good kind of hurt, the kind you need in your life.

“It’s not that bad,” he continued. “I don’t lead a totally sad life.”

“I know…”

~~~

Your spine felt like jelly as you cleaned up your classroom after the end of the school day on your first Friday. A couple of the teachers you’d gotten close with had planned a little night out to welcome you–Ross included–and as much as you appreciated the gesture, nights out were never really your thing. You wondered if Ross told them, you wondered if they knew at all about your history. Though he was never much one for confrontation, that must’ve been it.

You were going to get a ride with Lou. You realised you both lived just a street away from each other and you really didn’t feel like forking out your entire life savings for one Uber ride. She’d become a sort of guardian angel for you–showing you the ropes in your first week. You had Ross as well, and he helped when he could, but you pretty much resided on opposite sides of the school and you couldn’t exactly go all the way to him every time you had a question or query. You’d gotten comfortable with your coworkers at school but not out of that very controlled environment, a night out would show the real you.

You’d chewed the ends of your fingers raw once you’d gotten home to shower and get properly ready. You were very quickly going into a spiral. What if I say something wrong? What if I get too drunk? What if I don’t get drunk enough and don’t enjoy myself? What if Ross has told them everything?

You checked your phone as you were waiting for your post-shower skincare to sink in. There was a text from Lou just to confirm your address and then another text from a contact you haven’t seen for years.

looking forward to tonight! see you there! -Ross

It took you by surprise. Not the message, itself, but the notion that he would have to sign off on a text, otherwise you wouldn’t know who it was. You smiled at the thought of him worrying that after all these years you’d deleted his number from your phone, and then when you realised he had kept your number just as long. You typed a reply.

you know me! buzzing for it! (no really, you know me…i’m giving it a go)

A bubble popped up immediately, showing he was typing. Like touching a hot pan, you instinctively threw your phone onto your bed the second you saw it. After a minute or so you looked at your phone again. No notifications. Must’ve been a mistake, you thought.

You got ready for the night. You hadn’t worn this much makeup in ages, but you thought for a special night, you should make the effort.

Lou was at your doorstep with an Uber in tow at 7 o’clock on the dot. You’d been so frantic with getting ready for the night and feeding your cat, Benny, and giving him enough attention to last him until you’d get home, you hadn’t checked your phone after that dreaded but brief conversation with Ross. You saw a text from him sent an hour after your last message.

good to know nothings changed!

With a yell of “bye, Benny!” you left with Lou.

“So now that we’re not working…” She started. “Can you tell me how you and Ross…know each other?”

You let out an awkward laugh. You did tell her that you couldn’t talk about it at school, you had the fear of God in you that a student could walk by at any moment and hear it all. But still, you hadn’t spoken to Ross about it, you didn’t want to overstep and embarrass him.

“We knew each other during uni,” you answered.

“Well I already knew that!” She said–a little too loud.

You laughed with her. “What has he told you?”

“That you two were friends…But I’m not stupid, I saw the way you two looked at each other.”

“It’s not my place to tell you everything.”

“So there is a story there!” She yelled.

You couldn’t help but laugh again, though not without a tinge of fear that that was enough for her to know everything in some psychic link between the two of you that you were unaware of.

The pub wasn’t far, you arrived at the curb in about fifteen minutes. Lou checked her phone as you both climbed out of the modern sedan.

“I got messages from Tracy and Nathan, they’re already here, and…Leanne isn’t far away.” She said. Upper English, Social Studies, and Phys Ed, respectively. You hadn’t met a single teacher so far who you didn’t like, everyone was so welcoming to you. Janine, the headmistress and your boss, on the other hand…It wasn’t that she didn’t like you, you figured she just liked things done a certain way and you didn’t exactly fit the mould there.

It was pretty busy inside–not a surprise for 7 o’clock on a Friday night–but it didn’t take you long to see the group who all excitedly yelled their ‘hello’s to you. You quickly got settled with a drink in the booth that Tracy was lucky enough to snag in the lively pub. Soon the group got bigger and bigger. Still, you had yet to see the man who could not stop invading your mind. 

By 9:30, you were yearning to see him–in all his newly grown-up glory.

At ten, you had become resigned to the fact that he was just not going to show up. All your worry and effort was for nothing. You didn’t think he would be like this, he was never like this. After his texts, and then his resounding absence, you truly didn’t know what he was getting at. You just wanted to hole up in your bed and try to forget this whole embarrassing ordeal.

“I think I’m gonna head home,” you said to Lou–admittedly slurring a little, time seemed to pass quicker, the more drinks you had.

“Would you mind going alone? I don’t-I’m not ready to leave just yet,” she answered, just as intelligible as you.

“No worries.” You pulled up the Uber app on your phone as you stepped out of the pub. You pulled your jacket closer to your body as a shiver ran up your spine, it was just beginning to get colder, though you could only really tell during the later hours.

The street was busy, people walking–or stumbling–by you, trying to find the next bar in their nightly crawl. Somehow, you got caught between two people at the most perfect–or imperfect–time. You tripped on one passerby’s foot and saw the pavement get shakily closer. 

Until two firm hands caught you by your shoulders.

“You alright, darling?” You could recognise that voice anywhere.

“Hi,” you said, finally looking up at Ross. There was a panicked look in his eye. “Yeah, you?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” he answered. You steadied yourself on your feet and you both floated closer to the front of the pub you were just in to avoid the foot traffic. “Sorry I’m late, Matty–you remember Matty?–his girlfriend broke up with him the other week and he’s been having a hard time, there was a crisis.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to come, he couldn’t.

“It’s all good,” you grinned. “I was actually just about to head off though…Tired.”

He let out a knowing chuckle. “Well could I come home with you?” He saw your eyes widen for just a second. “I mean, I was only coming to catch up with you…Pretty hard to do if you’re not there…”

“I’ve just ordered an Uber,” you said without even thinking. Not like you had to think, the answer would always be a ‘yes’.

You couldn’t stop looking at him while you waited for the car. He looked more confident than when you’d seen him last, like he was easily carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders–and was happy to do so. You barely even noticed that your hand was in his until he squeezed it to get your attention.

“You alright?” He asked. “With all this?”

You didn’t quite know what he meant. With the job, this night out, or him. But the answer was the same for all of the above. You nodded. He smiled, and in an act that felt as natural as breathing, he brought your hands up to his lips to place a kiss on the back of your much-too-cold hand. It was the kind of kiss you’d see with a couple married for decades, nothing too passionate but with just enough love–that frightened you just a little, if you were completely honest.

The ride was silent. You daren’t utter a word for fear that Ross would know how you felt about his warm palm planted firmly on your thigh.

At your flat, you made tea for the two of you. You couldn’t help but reminisce on the first night you knew him, when he brought you back to his tiny flat in the middle of Manchester and was kind enough to be your friend. It was strange how your life seemed so cyclical.

It was quite cold in your flat, you always worried if you turned on the heating when you were out that Benny would get too hot. Speaking of the dark grey feline, you noticed him jump when you came home not alone, he quickly retreated to his cat tree in the corner of your living space. You just laughed and told Ross that he did that with everyone he didn’t know.

You handed Ross his cup of tea–no sugar with just a splash of milk and eye-wateringly strong–and sat down on the sofa next to him. 

You were transported to that night in your second year of uni, the night you started your friendship with Ross. A night when you could’ve been swallowed whole by your loneliness, but were instead embraced by a stranger who you very much grew to…like. A lot…

“So…” You sighed once you were comfortable. “How’s Matty doing?”

“He’s alright…Just…you remember what he’s like…” He answered.

You laughed. “Always…”

“He’s alright though…Just has his moments…” He chuckled. “And then I told him I was going to see you and he got excited.”

“What? And you weren’t excited to see me?” There was a sudden streak of courage running through you.

“I’m always happy to see you, love.” He was laughing, but you both knew there was truth in his statement.

“Good,” you smiled. “Got a bit upset when I thought you wouldn’t show.”

It suddenly dawned on you the glaringly obvious fact that instantly snapped you out of whatever trance you were in. You were coworkers. You had to be professional, even if it was him.

Now his smile–one you could just about read as giddy–made your heart drop into your stomach. His eyes were so soft, a glaze over them–not from tears, just admiration for who he was looking at. Your smile faltered. Ross noticed.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, sounding very serious.

“I…” You didn’t quite know how to phrase it. “We can’t…It’s not…professional.”

He sighed, then stayed silent for a moment.

“It’s not that I wouldn’t want to,” you continued. “But if anyone found out…it would be hell.”

“Well then how about we just don’t tell anyone?” He asked quickly. 

The question was enough for your body–independently from your mind–to launch across the sofa and into Ross’ lap. You placed a gentle hand on his cheek. You weren’t used to his now-thicker beard, it was much smoother and softer than his old stubble. 

Kissing him was like returning back to your childhood home after years of not visiting. You still knew him so well–his taste and  the softness of his lips, it was so familiar to you.

As you deepened the kiss, your tongues now well into exploring the familiar landscapes of each other’s lips, your hand that was so firmly planted on his cheek travelled further back. On some kind of instinct your fingers laced through the hair at the back of his neck, tugging just a little on the roots. Ross let out a deep moan into your mouth, you couldn’t help but grin a little into the kiss. Duly noted.

~~~

It was the first day of spring when you finally had the realisation that sent a shock down your spine. As the flower buds began to grow it became apparent that you only had a couple short months before Ross would graduate. You’d had conversations back when the only way to get warm was to be in his embrace, his plan was London. A city with more job opportunities than you knew what to do with. 

It was like all of a sudden you were dreading seeing him, like you were putting off the last time. You couldn’t admit it to yourself then, but you knew that his impending departure would be heartbreaking.

After three days of radio silence, you found him sitting on the curb in front of your building. You were frozen in your spot.

“Sorry, I know this is kinda weird of me,” he said, standing up from his place on the concrete. “You haven’t answered my texts, I got worried.”

Your heart both warmed, and shattered even more at the same time. It was getting dark, and it wasn’t quite the time of year for warmer nights yet.

“Sorry, I’ve been…” You couldn’t quite think of an end to that sentence. You let him into the flat with you.

Ellie was out for the night, so you planned for a night alone–a feast for one in the reusable bag you placed on the kitchen counter. Ross slid off his shoes at the door–something he always did–and got comfortable on your sofa. As you put away the groceries you heard your TV turn on the flicking of switching channels. There was something so domestic about it. You let yourself daydream for a moment that this could be your life if you so pleased, putting away groceries while Ross watched TV. You snapped out of the fantasy when he spoke.

“GoldenEye is on!” He called out to you. You’d had many conversations about your favourite movies as kids, and all the James Bond movies were his–as well as the video game.

You floated to the sofa after everything was safely in its place. You’d watched the latter half of the film all the way to the end credits without even realising. Somewhere along the way, you’d gotten comfortable in Ross’ embrace–a common home for you as of late. Your cheek was beginning to hurt from laying on his chest watching the small TV on the other side of the room.

Ross wriggled a little, so you sat up, realising just how tired you were. With a stretch and a yawn, you let him sit up properly. The film was a nice distraction for a little while.

“I’m sorry,” you said after a much-too-long silence between the two of you.

“For what?” He asked.

“You know what,” you answered. “I’m just…not dealing well.”

“I got that,” he chuckled. “I am too. But what do we do?”

“I don’t know…” You said, your final word cracking as your eyes welled with tears.

Ross was immediately engulfing you in one of his almost-bone-crushing hugs, and you let the tears fall. 

“I didn’t mean to get like this,” you said through sobs.

“I know.”

“And I’m gonna miss you so much.”

“I know,” he repeated. “We were good while it lasted, eh?”

“So that’s it?”

He’d finally pulled away again, giving you the chance to wipe your tears and snotty nose on your sleeves. You looked at him, he was just as teary with such an…apologetic look on his face.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” he said.

“Can you at least stay for the night?”

“Of course.”

~~~

You went back to work on Monday with a spring in your step. You spent the whole weekend in your flat, just the two of you. It was like before, only better. The sex was better, the conversations were so easy,  you were right back where you were, and you couldn’t be happier about it.

Ross left your flat late on Sunday night, and you hadn’t spoken to him since then. Granted, it had only been around twelve hours, you were still itching to see him again. Not the time, though, you had a job to do, so you tried not to think of him.

At the start of morning break, you were stuck in your classroom helping out a student, Daniel, on some of his homework. Though you were happy to help him out, he and his small group had been so nice to you and you’d already found yourself getting carried away with conversations with the three of them during most of your Year 10 lessons in the past week.

You heard a knock on the doorframe, three firm knocks, to be exact.

“Yes?” You asked. You hoped you knew who it would be, and you were right. You watch Ross walk in, dressed in a crisp light blue button-up and the hair that you’d been pulling on all weekend was neatly tied up into a small bun. “Ah, Mr MacDonald!”

You saw the look of panic in his eyes as he noticed the 14 year-old boy that was standing at your desk with you. He straightened up a little and pulled a smile you could go wobbly-kneed over.

“Hi Mr MacDonald…” Daniel said.

“Hello, Daniel,” he answered. “Not causing any trouble?”

You saw a cheeky grin shared between the two of them. It warmed your heart at thinking of Ross having in-jokes with students, you knew he was a good teacher.

“I promise,” Daniel laughed.

“Good, or else I’ll have something to do about it.” Ross slyly winked to you, making you have to stifle the giggle that almost erupted from your lips.

“Won’t be a minute,” you said to him.

“No worries,” Ross answered, taking a seat at his usual desk for your break-meetings, the one closest to your desk in the front corner of the room. Taking out the packet of crisps from his bag and trying to eat them with as minimal crunches as possible–as to not disturb you.

You didn’t fail to notice the wide eyes of the student in front of you. You had to keep from laughing until he’d left the room.

“Well that rumour’ll be all over school by lunch,” Ross laughed.

“You think?” 

“Oh yeah, I know that kid, he’ll be flipping his shit about it!”

“Does it worry you?” You asked, but Ross looked confused. “Rumours…that we’re together and all that.”

“Well they’re true aren’t they?”

“That’s not the point, I just don’t want to jeopardise our jobs or anything.”

“If someone asks, we can just say it’s a rumour,” he answered. He caught your brief look of worry for just a split-second. “Hey? That doesn’t mean I don’t…love you any less.”

You couldn’t fight the Cheshire cat smile that spread across your face. “Really?”

“Of course. We can just tell them when we’re ready.”

#ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald fluff

[alovesreading]

'tis the damn season | Part 1

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

Word count: 16.5k

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

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

Masterlist

Part 2

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The sight made you smile a bit harder.

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

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

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

That was the first day you walked to school together.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yup. He would definitely keep it all to himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So he got promoted, huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hummed as if asking for you to elaborate.

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

Ross snorted as he nodded, “It is.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wanted earth to open up and swallow you whole.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I told you it was alright.”

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

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

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

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

“Then take them, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t. You’re so cosy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ross thinks you’re so fucking cute.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mockingly, really.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you do just that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ten, nine, eight…

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

Seven, six, five, four…

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

Three, two, one…

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ross giggles breathily.

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

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

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

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

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

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

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

You really wanted to see Ross.

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

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

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

With a shake of your head, you force yourself to stop.

It’s okay. Everyone will be glad to see you and it’s gonna be as if you’d never left. It’ll be alright.

When your dad picks you up from the Manchester airport station, your smile breaks on your face. It has been so long since you’ve genuinely smiled that your cheeks start hurting shortly into your drive. Your heart slams against your ribcage, your fingers fiddle with the sleeves of your jumper, and your words tangle on the tip of your tongue as you try to chat with your dad.

You can’t wait to get home and feel some sense of normalcy, that familiarity you’ve been longing the very second you went away.

But, despite the warm welcome the familiar walls of your fully decorated house gives you, when Ross comes over, there’s a shift around you that makes you frown.

The unrelenting knocks on the front door have you dashing downstairs, and when you open it, your eyes widen and a gasp slips past your lips when seeing Ross standing in front of you, “Oh my god, hi!”

He envelopes you in a hug that makes a knot tie in your throat, and the sound of his voice would have pushed a sob out of you if it wasn’t for a correction that hit you like a gut punch, “Missed you so much swee– Y/N/N.”

The both of you tense in each other’s hold, impossible not to have missed the awkward correction. Your brows furrow as you look over his shoulder, not wanting to look at his face just yet because your confusion is clear on your face, but you try your best to sound unnerved when you reciprocate, “Yeah. Missed you too.”

A half smile is what you offer him when you pull back, and when he gives you a grin of his, you just want to scream seeing the dimples on his cheek after so long.

Yet, you can’t let yourself enjoy his presence fully when he walks into your house and he greets your parents, because all that you’re thinking about is why on Earth he could’ve stopped himself from calling you a pet name he’s used for you for years.

Your chest hurts already, thinking about a loss that you have no idea the reasoning behind. Little did you know, you would be mourning more losses with the days to come.

In the kitchen, your parents, Ross and yourself are all chatting and catching up over cups of hot chocolate. There’s laughter and smiles, loads of news about what’s been going on in Wilmslow while you’ve been gone, many more stories of the lads and another name the band had acquired.

Soon enough, your mum and dad leave to finish wrapping presents and leave you and Ross to catch up alone.

He’s helping you make cookies, the same ones you had made 5 years ago to thank him for the potatoes. And you can’t help but smile at the memories the two of you have made over the years during the Christmas season, heat creeping up your neck when remembering what had happened merely one year ago.

But you can’t relish too much on the ghostly feeling of his lips on yours because suddenly, he clears his throat and shyly starts talking about something he has been hiding from you for a bit.

“I, erm, met this girl in uni,” he trails off with a soft voice that makes you freeze in your spot. “She’s teaching history, like I do. She’s much smarter than I am, though.”

Ross laughs, that dimpled smile breaking on his now flushed face. All you can do to hide your surprise is chuckle along, breathy and not at all genuine.

And it seems like he takes your giggles as a seal of approval for he lets every thought about this mysterious girl out.

Her name is Katie and she’s the same age as you and Ross. They met the first day of classes when Ross was so confused about where he had been told to go, his inability to take his eyes off the papers in his hand had caused him to crash into her and, after gathering each other’s things which had fallen everywhere on the hall, they chatted enough to know they were both lost on their first day as teachers and they had been inseparable since then.

She has a brilliant memory and is an amazing teacher. Everyone adores her and Ross is still surprised she chooses to hang out with him most of the time. She’s pretty, gorgeous even from what you can see on her myspace page Ross shows you. She loves LCD Soundsystem and The Streets so she’s basically perfect. Added to the fact that she plays the guitar, and of course is quite good at skateboarding.

The bitter feeling rising up your throat burns a hole in your chest, like acid burning through your skin and bones.

“Can we change topics? Please?” You snap out, smacking your hands on the kitchen counter. “Not in the mood to hear about how perfect this girl is. I’m sure I’ll see how fucking wonderful she is when I have to meet her.”

A loud sigh follows your sudden outburst, and then silence falls. Each second hurts, the silence is far too loud and then dread falls on you, a heavy weight on your shoulders that makes you slump forward.

“Right,” he says to pierce through the agonising silence.

You want to disappear right then and there. It’s unfair of you to shut him up like that when you’ve been gone for months and you barely have had the time to chat properly on the phone. It’s unfair of you to not listen to him talk about a topic that clearly has him excited, someone who has him foolishly smiling and rambling.

But maybe it is that. That you are back after the most horrible months you’ve been through and all he can talk about is this gorgeous perfect girl that claims his every thought.

You’re annoyed she’s pushed you away to a corner of his mind. Annoyed that whilst you were crying your eyes out every fucking day, he’s been getting closer to this girl.

It’s odd because it isn’t like Ross hadn’t had girlfriends before. You have witnessed him with girlfriends since you met him.

But there was an end to that and it was when you first kissed on Christmas day a year ago. Ever since that day, your dynamic had shifted and you had been perhaps flirting a bit more, but it never went further than that. But he also didn’t get a girlfriend after that and maybe, despite having to leave for university, you had held out hope that it would stay that way.

How foolish of you.

Cookies are finished and put on the oven in deafening silence, a very awkward one that makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

You can breathe again when he leaves as soon as your parents come back downstairs with more presents to place under the tree. He says something about going back home to get ready and making sure his parents don’t come over late before he closes the door behind himself.

Suddenly, the prospect of having Christmas dinner with the MacDonald family is suffocating and you want to be able to hide in your room and avoid it entirely, but you can’t.

Not when Ross’ mum and dad envelope you in the tightest hugs and tell you how much they’ve missed having you around. You have to bite your tongue not to start crying, especially when you see Ross standing behind them over their shoulders with a forced smile that reminds you how badly you had fucked up earlier.

You’re incredibly grateful for the fact that your parents take over the conversation aspect of dinner, because Ross barely looks at you or speaks to you all throughout it. It only saddens you more, a bit of anger brewing inside you too.

It’s too tense to enjoy, too awkward to even feel a hint of the warmth Christmas day often brings you.

When dinner is over and your mum tells the both of you it’s time for your annual Christmas pictures, it becomes even more awkward—as if that was possible.

His arm falls over your shoulder like dead weight, his fingers don’t even hold you in place. So when you wrap your arm around his waist, you barely make an effort to hold him close to you. Your smiles are forced on your faces, no dimples biting at his cheeks, your lips almost look pressed together instead of showing a toothy grin to the camera like you’ve always done before.

Your mum sighs but takes a picture anyway. She has no idea why you two are acting this way but she doesn’t care, she just wants a cute picture. “Oh c’mon kids, where’s the kiss?”

A roll of your eyes is what your mum sees, and she’s about to scold you when you say in a forced amused tone, “Think we’re a bit too old for mistletoe kisses now, no?”

Silence again. Second after second of quietness that only makes the weight on your shoulders heavier.

It’s ironic how much heavier it feels when Ross lifts his arm off your shoulders and lets it fall limply on his side at the same time as he agrees, “We are.”

You take your arm off his waist instantly. You’re left standing awkwardly beside the other and despite your mum’s confusion, which is clear in her frown, she presses the shutter and the picture is taken and begins printing in a blink of an eye.

As soon as the whirring of the printing polaroid stops, you regret ever letting those words out of your mouth.

Because not only do you get a hasty hug from Ross when he and his parents leave your house, the next morning is accentuated by the lack of his presence.

No more ‘sweetheart’. No more pictures of kisses on cheeks under the mistletoe. No lazy Boxing day morning.

And, apparently, no walking to Matty’s together either.

You’ve been waiting for his call all day. First, to see if he was coming over to show each other your presents like you always do, but no call came through. And now, you’re three hours into waiting for him to call you and tell you to walk out so you can go to Matty’s together for the gift exchange.

No call comes and since you’ve been ready to go for a while and you don’t want to be late, you just rush downstairs and leave.

Walking down the roads you’ve missed so much, alone, is another wave of pain that you didn’t know you could feel just by the absence of someone. No one has ever meant this much to you before that the lack of their presence chips away at your heart, piece by piece.

When you get to the Healy residence, you get crushing hugs from everyone that’s already there. Except from Ross, of course, because he’s already there, splayed on a loveseat and he barely makes the effort to hug you hello.

As the inevitable catching up happens all over again, since you’re still waiting for the rest of your friend group to arrive, you have to hide the truth and put on a fake smile when talking about how university is going. But it’s hard when you have no new friends, and you’re struggling through most of your classes thanks to how homesick you feel.

Change is a nightmare to you and you’re reminded of how much things are changing at a quick pace when an hour goes by and no one else shows up.

Seems like no matter how vocal about the promise of always coming back Danielle had been, she and Sarah weren’t coming at all. Jodie shares a sad smile with you and puts away the gift bags from them, leaving only the ones for everyone who’s currently there.

The warmth you have been craving since you got there finally washes over you when everyone opens up their gifts. Laughter, cooing and many thank yous go around the living room, it gives you the hope that maybe it’s not been all ruined.

You’re looking forward to the New Year’s Eve party until George asks Ross if he’s asked Katie about it and the way Ross blushes is enough for everyone but you and Jodie to start a ruckus, teasing and making jokes about the girl and Ross.

“Yes, she’s coming over on the 31st…” Ross sighs, rubbing his flushed face to hide how flustered he’s gotten. But then he drops his hand and looks around the place, brows shooting up and eyes widening like he’s giving a warning, “You lot better play nice.”

However, it’s the way his eyes grow stern when they fall on you that you know he means it seriously when it comes to you.

So you take it seriously.

You know you’ve been the one to put this tension between you and it’s in your hands to right your wrongs, so you want to take this opportunity to apologise for your irrationality on the previous days.

You’ve mentally prepared, gone over what Ross told you the day you got home and recognised how great of a person Katie sounded like. It actually makes you smile when thinking she’s been such a good help for him to adjust to his new teaching gig, how she and Ross have gone through the novelty of it together; and convincing yourself that despite the horrendous feeling that clouds your insides, she’s been a good addition to Ross’ life.

But it doesn’t matter that you’ve reached those conclusions and that you’re actually gotten yourself excited enough to meet her, because when you get to Matty’s with two bottles of vodka and a pack of Ross’ favourite beer—an apology gift if you will—, Ross fully avoids you.

He gives you a tight lip smile and a nod of his head as a hello, he turns to Katie and says, “Katie, this is Y/N.”

You’re left trying to awkwardly act like the fact that Ross has left you with your arms open and awaiting a hug hasn’t hurt you, and you really try your best to push the ugly feeling aside when you smile at her and offer your hand out for her to shake.

“Nice to meet you, Katie. I’ve heard loads about you.”

She blushes and lets out the cutest giggle, and of course it’s that which finally makes Ross smile.

“Oh, really? That’s erm, good to hear.” She finally grabs your hand after giving Ross a side look to which he smirks. You really have to fight the scowl that wants to take over your face when she shakes your hand, “Nice to meet you too.”

He snakes an arm around her waist and you take that as a sign to get yourself away from the situation. Before you can say something you’ll regret even more, or even pick a fight with Ross for his indifference.

The need to call him out for it grows as the night continues, for he doesn’t even look at you. He keeps a straight face when you speak, doesn’t even look at you when you clearly throw a comment or ask a question to him, he doesn’t speak to you at all. And everyone fucking notices, the looks they keep sending your way are enough to know that they know something is wrong.

But you can’t explain, not right then at least. So you keep to yourself, pouring yourself drink after drink, and you start being petty and mirror his behaviour: you laugh louder to annoy him, messing about with George and Matty obnoxiously, ignoring any comment or joke he could make to the rest of the group.

You walk past the line of tipsy and start getting drunker and drunker when midnight gets closer. The memory of how it had been the previous year makes you glare at him. He has her almost sitting on his lap as she delicately takes sip after sip of her cup, and it enrages you that he’s drinking the beer you bought him when he hasn’t even thanked you for it!

How is it that you were kissing him a year ago and now you’re watching him being all lovey dovey with a girl he has just met?

It’s an understatement to say you’re fucking pissed by midnight. George has been laughing at your clumsiness for a while now, but he has joined you when you started drinking the vodka straight from the bottle instead of mixing it with fizzy lemonade like you had been all night.

When the countdown starts, you set the almost empty vodka bottle on the coffee table and start screaming along.

Matty is beside you and he grabs your shoulders and shakes you in excitement, making you laugh loudly, but you let yourself fall back so you’re resting over his chest and he rests his chin on your shoulder, counting down right in your ear.

It is the second everyone yells, “Happy New Year!” that you act before your brain can process and, suddenly, you’re kissing Matty.

He gasps when your lips meet and you lick into his mouth, but the curly haired brunette doesn’t pull back, instead he cups your face and tilts your head to put you in an angle where he can kiss you comfortably and he even moans into your mouth when your fingers tangle in his curls and pull on them.

The surprise of what’s happening is enough to make everyone gasp instead of wishing each other a happy new year, and soon whistles and ruckus drowns the room. Everyone but Ross participates in the disturbance. The bassist is biting his tongue as he sees you basically eating Matty’s face. His fingers tighten around Katie’s waist and she turns around to see him when she feels the change in his hold.

Ross forces a smile and Katie gasps, “I didn’t know they were a thing!”

“Me neither,” he manages out through his teeth.

It doesn’t matter that he’s doing a poor job at hiding what’s going through his head because Katie is more interested in seeing what happens next with you and Matty.

The feeling of tears rolling down your cheeks and tasting the saltiness in the kiss, makes Matty pull back. He hears you whine and you pucker up your lips to continue the kiss but Matty pulls back, clutching your face a bit tighter so you can open your eyes and look at him while he whispers, “Do you wanna leave Y/N/N?”

Matty knows you far better than you think and he knows that this kiss has no other meaning behind it other than the fact that you’re too drunk and he’s quite sure he knows why you have been so reckless with your drinking tonight. And, despite being drunk himself, he has to try and get a hold of his bearings and help you out.

You nod, embarrassed when another tear rolls down your cheek. When he wipes it with his thumb before anyone can see it, you whisper back, “Can we go up to your room? Can’t be here anymore.”

His curls bounce on his head when he nods and you’re grateful he holds you by your waist when you stand up and walk upstairs to his room.

“Y’alright?” Matty asks when he closes the door behind the two of you.

You wait until he sets you on the edge of his bed to answer, “No.”

He knows it’s all because of Ross, not only because of his behaviour tonight, but maybe because you felt some type of way for his best mate and now you were stuck in this situation. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not– Don’t apologise. This is just me being fucking stupid, expecting everything to be the same when I came back home.” The despair is clear in your voice and he kneels in front of you when you let your head hang for the tears can’t be stopped anymore. You shake your head as you think about all that you have felt for months and how, after tonight, the feelings that have flooded your system are just the same, “But I’m so sad, Matty. I’m so lonely.”

It breaks his heart to hear you like this, when your shoulders shake as you silently sob, he squeezes your thighs to make you look into his eyes when he says, “You’ve got us. Always.”

Another shake of your head breaks his heart, your words not helping at all when you say, “Not back there. I wish I did.”

Matty knows it is not the moment to ask about it, but he will ask how you truly are doing in London afterwards. For now, he brushes your hair behind your ears and asks, “Do you want me to stay?”

“Please?” Your voice breaks when you add, “I don’t wanna be alone anymore.”

He quickly stands on his feet and crushes you in a hug, “I’m right here, darling. I’ve got you.”

Matty stays with you for a while, and Ross sees red when another ten minutes go by and neither of you come back downstairs. He grabs Katie’s hand and convinces her to leave, and the girl of course accepts because despite really having enjoyed herself, she would rather have Ross all to herself.

Ross stomps his way back home with Katie in hand. He’s fucking fuming at both you and Matty, because of course you would act all childishly when finding out he has met a girl and has been taling to her, and use one of his best mates to get back at him.

He shakes his head and huffs angrily, deciding right then and there that he’s done with your behaviour. And he ignores the feeling that burns his insides at the thought of you and Matty together on a night like this. He chooses to focus on Katie, sweet Katie who’s giggling and sharing her favourite things about tonight.

Stopping in the middle of the road, he wraps an arm around Katie’s waist and presses her flush against his chest, brings a hand up to her face and kisses her passionately.

He shuts his eyes tightly and tries his best not to compare this kiss to the one you had shared a year ago, willing himself to have Katie be all he thinks about from now on.

Even when you come knocking on his door two days later.

A soft smile is on your face when he opens the door and you greet him with a quiet, “Hey.”

“Hi.”

He sounds and looks wary, like he’s trying not to say too much either with his words or his facial expressions.

You sigh, fiddling with your fingers as you let him know, “Erm… I’m going back.”

He frowns, “Already?”

You know it’s odd, it’s the middle of the week and classes don’t start again until Monday so there’s no reason for you to leave in such a hurry, but you just can’t stay here when everything is like this. You had wanted to come back home to spend your time with him, not ruining your friendship in the worst possible way and now, all you wanted to do was run away before you could get yet another chance to fuck things up even more.

“Yeah. Gotta go back.”

“Did you have fun?” Ross asks with a tone in his voice that makes you freeze in your spot.

It feels like it’s a trick question but you can’t really think about why. Mainly because you can’t remember much about the party other than how awful Ross had acted with you, but you don’t want to give him the pleasure of knowing he had been the reason for the way you had drank.

So you try to smile even brighter now, nodding as you reply, “I did. It was really fun.” It hadn’t really, because not only had you been feeling so awful because of him, you had woken up with the worst fucking hangover of your life. Matty had been lovely and helped you until you felt well enough for him to take you back home, but you were still feeling the effects of such a horrible night.

You made a joke of it, very nonchalantly adding, “Still feeling a little rough but it’s alright.”

But since you have no clue of what Ross thinks happened, your words make his stomach churn and he scoffs humourlessly, “Right. Well, I’ll see you next year then.”

The way he says it makes you feel like instead of saying goodbye like you had come over with the intention of doing, he’s pushing you away with a halfhearted farewell to just get it over with.

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek as you try not to cry, and with a small voice you agree, “Yes. You will.”

“Good,” Ross says, though he isn’t sure if he means it or not.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

Katie and Ross had gotten together officially on Valentine’s day of 2008, or so you saw back then when she posted it on Facebook—after Matty had begged you to make yourself a profile on the new social media page, the lads had sent you friend requests and along with them came Katie and a bunch of people from school you had barely ever spoken to.

The biggest change since you left Wilmslow at the very start of the year has been that you barely ever speak to Ross, either through the phone or through messages on Facebook. You had called him on his birthday to congratulate him and so he had done the same when yours approached.

Matty has been the one to take his place, even if it has been in a way different way than what Ross ever was to you. You’re still so incredibly grateful for Matty, he’s the one to help you on your worst days and is a great person to vent to when you couldn’t keep everything to yourself any longer.

With someone there to be entirely transparent to, hearing you and helping you through your struggles, university got the tiniest bit easier.

And though it still wasn’t the greatest thing ever, you were scared of leaving your dorm to take a coach back home for the holidays with how everything had turned out the year before.

So you’re more anxious than excited when you sit by the window and open a book you’ve brought to keep you distracted from your thoughts on the long drive up to Manchester.

It’s futile, for you have to read each paragraph twice and you barely have gotten halfway through the book with how distracted you’ve gotten by your own mind throughout the ride home. Any other day, six hours would be enough for you to finish a three hundred and something pages long book, but not today.

Your dad greets you with the biggest hug at the airport station and once you get inside his car, it feels real enough that you can’t stay still. Not even when you get home and go upstairs to your room after hugging your mum hello.

You’re pacing around your room, sitting on the edge of your bed for a handful of seconds only to spring back up and start pacing again. A vicious cycle that continues for far longer than you would like to admit, until the loud knocking on your front door startles you out of your trance and poses a good excuse to do something.

“I got it!” You yell out to your mum who’s making hot chocolate in the kitchen, and you hum when she thanks you.

When you open the door, Ross greets you with a loud, “Hi!” and a toothy smile that you haven’t seen in ages.

Through the shock, you manage to say, “Oh hi!”

And you become even more shocked when he goes straight to the point, “Heard you’d finally arrived so I thought I’d come by and ask you if you wanted to come over later? You know, to catch up, maybe watch a film and have some hot chocolate…”

“Oh? Yeah, sure. That sounds good,” you somehow manage, but you’re sure your wide eyes and your parted mouth is enough for him to know you’re surprised.

“Brilliant,” he smiles easily and asks just to be sure, “Around six?”

You nod, swallowing hard before answering, “Sure. I’ll be there.”

“Great. I’ll see you then.”

In all honesty, you thought he hated you. With everything that happened a year ago, most of it all being your own fault, you expected to not see him until Boxing day at Matty’s when you were due to exchange gifts, but here he is inviting you over to have a day to yourselves like you used to back in the day.

There’s a spark of hope that brings tears to your eyes. Maybe you haven’t lost him just yet and you couldn’t be happier about it.

Your parents see the change in your demeanour when you come into the kitchen with the brightest smile and let them know you’ll be going to Ross’ house around six to hang out. They truly couldn’t be happier because they had always loved the friendship the two of you shared, and your mum had been highly suspicious about your lack of Ross talk ever since last Christmas.

But you had cheered way too early for when you knock on Ross’ door and he lets you in, you’re met with a smiling Katie in the middle of the living room waving you over.

The shock leaves you frozen in your spot and Ross watches as Katie’s smile falters when she asks if you’re alright. Ross doesn’t even have to see your face to see how tense you are and the tone in your voice when you say, “Yes! I’m fine. Sorry. It’s so good to see you again.” is enough for him to know this is gonna cost you some effort.

You take one of the settees while Katie takes her place on the loveseat across from you and Ross is off to the kitchen to bring the mugs of hot chocolate he had promised.

When he’s back, you and Katie are exchanging some lighthearted small talk. He hands you a mug and hopes that with his presence there, he can help you and Katie to get to know each other better. After all, he still considered you one of his best friends and Katie had now been his girlfriend for ten months, so it’s well overdue to have you and Katie properly getting along.

But it seems like that isn’t happening any time soon. You’re trying your best not to be awkward, to be nice and find interest in everything she’s saying but Ross knows you so well, anger starts boiling his blood when he sees how much you’re forcing it all.

It doesn’t sit well with him how you can’t even hack simple conversation with his girlfriend, and despite a voice inside his head pointing out that you really are trying, he can’t help but become more and more infuriated by the lack of sincerity of your words and behaviour.

The last nail in the coffin is when you cut short one of Katie’s stories about one of her and Ross’ dates and say that you’re sorry but you need to head back home. And, even when Katie points out it’s just a quarter to ten, you hold your ground and continue saying you really needed to go.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you,” Ross says once he’s shut the door behind him as he walks you out.

You turn around to see him rubbing his face in exhaustion, “Excuse me?”

He groans, exasperated, “Can you just, for once, not be a bitch to her?”

Your mouth opens agape at his choice of words and you struggle to find your words, “What? How am I–”

“You are! You know damn well you are!” He interrupts with fury, “I thought it had just been bad last year ‘cause it was your first time coming back home for the holidays and it was a bit of an intrusion to have her join our friend group, but now? There’s no excuse for how fucking fake you’re being to her.”

Like a fish out of water, your mouth opens and closes as you try to find what to say, “Ross, I–”

It isn’t good enough for him and he interrupts, “No, I don’t wanna hear it.”

He can see the tears welling up your eyes and he has to stop himself from rolling his, “You either treat her like a decent human being or–,” he trails off as he thinks. It is then that he looks at you sternly and spits out with venom laced through his words, “Or maybe, you know what? You should just leave. Go back to London.”

Words could never describe that pain that ripples through your body when he says that, you can barely say with a broken voice, “If that’s what you want.”

And not even the fact that you’re about to sob stops him from being so harsh on you. He nods, “I do. It’s for the best of everyone here that you just go.”

“Okay,” you whisper before turning on your heels and walking quickly down the road, rushing to go into your house.

Your mum and dad see the desperation with which you open the door and slam it shut behind you, and they barely catch the tears running down your cheeks when you run upstairs and lock yourself in your room.

Toeing off your shoes, you walk up to your window and shut the curtains, to then turn off your lights and in utter darkness, you shed yourself of your clothes and put on your pyjamas before hiding yourself under your sheets and starting to sob.

Your chest hurts with every cry that you try to smother by pressing your face into your pillow, and it is right then that you know you won’t be able to stay for long. You will unfortunately give Ross the pleasure of listening to his words and go back to London, but not before actually having Christmas dinner with your family and giving everyone their Christmas gifts on Boxing day. You would endure only two more days and then you would be gone. Spending New Years alone in your dorm didn’t sound as depressing as spending it here where you didn’t feel welcome anymore, not with Ross right there.

Before Christmas dinner, your mum sends you over with a big gingerbread cake for the MacDonalds; since they aren’t coming over for dinner that year, as Katie was spending it with Ross and his parents, the tradition of sending over treats has come alive again.

You’re so grateful that it is his mum to open the door, not feeling strong enough to see his face again. But it’s extremely hard for you not to let your tears spill down the corners of your eyes when she invites you inside to share the treat with everyone. You politely decline and instead make her laugh when you have her promise to let you know how she finds the cake.

Throughout the whole of Christmas dinner with your parents, your mind is gone somewhere else. You barely touch your food and can’t really keep track of the conversation they try to lure you into. After dinner is over and you’ve put the dirty dishes on the dishwasher, you manage to focus enough to appreciate the gifts your parents got for you and to relish in the reactions to the gifts you got them.

Unfortunately, as you go on Facebook to wish Matty, George and Adam a merry Christmas, you catch a glimpse of a picture Ross has uploaded only a few hours ago, and it’s needless to say that your heart breaks in a billion pieces and you sob yourself to sleep like a fool.

How could you not when he’s posted a picture of Katie and him kissing under the mistletoe, reminding you of a tradition that’s now long gone, along with your friendship it seems.

And when you wake up and spend the entire morning of Boxing day alone, falling in and out of sleep, you’re reminded of yet another tradition you used to share that is far gone and adds to your heartache.

Your anguish makes you lose track of time and your appetite, and apparently your rationality as well because you spend hours making a pros and cons list in your mind about showing up to Matty’s before you realise you should just go and give everyone the presents you had already spent your money on. You’re leaving anyway and it would be far better if you just didn’t have all those gifts to look back to and remind you just how everything has turned out this year.

Plus, you had made a promise to keep coming back to see them every year and, after Sarah and Danielle had broken that promise the very first chance it had been time to prove it, you didn’t want to follow their steps.

However, since you’ve wasted all day trying to make that decision, you’re definitely late to the gift exchange.

By the time you get there, you look like an utter mess from how quickly you had gotten ready and how fast you had walked over there, but everyone greets you with sweet smiles and warm hugs.

Everyone but Ross. Yet again. Even Katie envelopes you in a tight hug that you reciprocate, but Ross merely pats your back when you swing an arm around his shoulder to hug him.

You sigh and try brushing it off as you sit beside Matty, who wastes no time to hug you into him and ask if you were alright. Nodding, you assure him wordlessly you were but your eyes say you’re going to talk to him about it later and he nods in understanding.

“Are we gonna start now, then, or what?” Ross says grumpily. He had been the one annoyed at your impunctuality, pushing everyone to just get on with it and not wait for you anymore.

No one will tell you this because it just wouldn’t help at all.

Everyone in the room can see that things between you and Ross are somehow worse than last year, even Katie can tell and it confuses her a lot, because all had been fine when you had come over on Christmas Eve and the three of you had spent the evening together.

Katie doesn’t even know if she should ask. In all honesty, she doesn’t know how to even ask or if she should ask you or Ross or both.

But she puts the matter to the side when you all start exchanging gifts—knowing that Katie was joining this year, everyone has gotten her gifts as well so the girl truly feels like a part of the group—and it is a nice distraction from the clear tension in the room when everyone gets to open their presents.

When Ross thanks you last for what you’ve gotten him with the meekest tone, you have to really force a smile to say, “You’re welcome.” But everyone can see just how much of an effort it is for you to sound nonchalant about it.

Matty is about to snap out at Ross for being an absolute twat when you stand up after gathering all of your gift bags and announce, “Well, I unfortunately gotta go now boys.”

George frowns, “What? Why?”

“It’s barely eight, Y/N,” Adam reminds you softly.

The shake of your head confuses them more and so do your words, “I mean go back to London. I can’t stay longer this year.”

Matty is the one who’s more vocal about his confusion, his words clearly a brutal inquiry as to your reasoning since he knows how much you’d rather be anywhere else but in uni, “Why? Where are you spending New Years? In your dorm?”

“Yeah, it’s just,” you trail off when you can’t really find something to say. Your eyes shift to look at Ross, the reason for your early goodbye, and the second your eyes lock on his, he averts his gaze like he has nothing to do with this. You sigh and excuse, “Something came up, and I really gotta go.”

No one buys it, but they still hug you the tightest they can before bidding you farewell.

“Hope you have the best time on New Year’s Eve. Happy New Year you lot!” You call out as you walk to the front door, “Love yous!”

Alone and in a silence that sickens you, you walk back home.

When you get there, you can’t stop the tears that slide down your cheeks when you tell your parents you’re going back early and you don’t even let your dad offer himself to drive you to the station for you swear you’ve got a ride and it’s all fine.

They want to ask what’s wrong but they don’t when they see the fact that you don’t want to talk about it written on your face. So they leave you to go upstairs and into your room to pack your things up as you silently cry over how poorly it has all gone.

This is the second year you feel like Ross is slipping away from your grasp, and it has you desperate but the only person you have to blame is yourself, for feeling that stupid ownership over him when he isn’t yours, when he has never been yours.

You should be mature enough to keep his friendship, not ruin it because you’re jealous and you feel alone. You should be happy he’s found someone to appreciate him for who he is, to give him the love he deserves when you are gone.

The feeling of disappointment in yourself haunts you as you walk down the stairs and hug your parents goodbye. And that feeling slaps you in the face like the cold winds of December, when you open the door and walk out to Ross waiting there.

He doesn’t say anything though, not when you gasp at his presence, not when you walk up to him and stand right beside him as you wait for the taxi you had phoned to pick you up.

You’re there staring ahead, wishing he was as selfish and horrible as yourself, wishing he would just beg you to stay and say he’d leave his girlfriend behind so you could take her place.

But Ross isn’t selfish nor a bad person like you are. He just stands there in silence and lets his presence be company and goodbye enough for you to settle before you’re gone again.

He offers you a cigarette that you take gracefully, and he lights it up for you without needing to hear you ask for it. The two of you stand there, side by side, smoking together in utter silence.

Your taxi gets there shortly after and he silently watches you put your case in the boot of the car before you throw the cigarette onto the pavement and stomp on it. You open the back door and take one last look at him before getting inside the vehicle.

Not a wave nor a goodbye, much less a hug. Nothing but silence is what he offers as you go.

It isn’t until you get further and further away, disappearing in the distance and becoming smaller as you drive away in the back of that taxi that his gaze drops to the pavement to watch the bud of the cigarette crushed, and it is then that Ross realises he hadn’t heard you cough, not even once, and he frowns to himself.

He really doesn’t know you anymore and he can’t help but wonder if that is for the better. 

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

A/N: Part 2 is coming to you in exactly a week so don't yell at me just yet please!!! I promise I'll make it up to you. Let me know what you thought and what you hope happens next! It seems a bit cruel to wish you a merry Christmas after this but I really do hope yous all have a lovely Christmas! xx

Taglist: @imagine-that-100 @kennedy-brooke @abiiors @everythinggetsfuzzy103 @on-administrative-leave @ughgoaway @harryssiren @2kwreck @obses-sedd @scarlett-grace-2 @taylorswiftsrep-blog @solitariodecartas @cherryofmydesire @momentum2023 @soggynoodles02 (i wasn't sure who wanted to be tagged or not so send me a message if you wanna be off the taglist for this story)

#ross macdonald #the 1975 #ross the 1975 #ross macdonald the 1975 #ross macdonald fanfic #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald oneshot #ross macdonald blurb #ross macdonald drabble #ross macdonald fluff #ross macdonald angst #ross macdonald smut #ross macdonald x yn #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald x y/n #ross macdonald x you #matty healy #george daniel #adam hann #iliwys #abiior #noacf #bfiafl

[tonguepiercedanyway75]

summary: you are watching a movie with Ross and he’s the sweetest

a blurb

────────────────────────

Your girls talked you into watching 'me before you‘, and now you’re on the couch, snuggled up on Ross‘ chest, watching the most cruelest scene. It was a serene moment, with the only sounds being the gentle hum of the movie and the occasional sniffle from you.

Ross is engrossed in the film, doesn’t immediately notice your tears. But as your sniffles turn into quiet sobs, he turns his attention to you, a teasing grin playing on his lips, while his arm wraps around your shoulder.

“You alright there love?” He asks, a teasing grin on his face. You wipe way a tear and sniffle, giving him a playful glare.

“It’s a sad movie, okay?” Ross chuckles softly, reaching over to gently wipe away a stray tear from your cheek.

“Sure,” he still has a shit-eating grin on his face, you playfully swat his arm away from you.

“It is!” you try to convince him, “she just died and they loved each other so much.” You frown, crossing your arms in front of your chest, waiting for him to break.

"Alright, alright. Come here,” He pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you protectively as you lean into his embrace. You rest your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Still can’t handle romantic movies, I see,” he teases. At the beginning of your relationship you forced him to watch romantic movies. Really sad ones. You should be getting used to the same endings but you’re not.

"Oh, please. Like you're any better. I've seen you tear up over a sad commercial." Ross feigns offense, clutching his heart dramatically.

"Oi, that was one time, and it was a particularly moving advert about... I don't even remember what it was about, but it was moving, alright?" You laugh, leaning into his embrace, feeling comforted by his warmth.

"Sure, Ross. Whatever you say.” Ross presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his voice softening.

“Wanna keep watching?” He asks and you nod because one, you can’t start movies and then not end it, second, you know you’ll fall asleep in the next 15 minutes.

It’s late. Almost 1 am, but you love to spend couch time with Ross. You nudge him to lay across the couch, so you can completely lay on top of him.

You drape the blanket over the both of you, and snuggle close, feeling a wave of contentment wash over you.

“Shouldn’t we head to bed?” You mumble something incoherent (‘I’m comfy here'), not quite ready to leave the warmth of his arms.

Ross chuckles softly, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back. "I can see that. But the couch isn't the most comfortable place to sleep, you know."

You let out a soft sigh, nuzzling closer to him. You tell him you don’t want to move, and tell him only a few more minutes. Ross smiles down at you, his eyes filled with affection.

"Alright, fair enough. But if you wake up with a sore neck tomorrow, don't say I didn't warn you." You playfully swat at his chest, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Stop worrying, I’ll be fine.” Ross wraps his arms around you tighter, pulling you into a gentle embrace. He lifts your head then, by grabbing your chin, to give you the sweetest kiss.

“But if you change your mind, I'll be more than happy to carry you to bed." You smile and kiss his chest as a small ‘thank you’ gesture.

You remain in the same embrace, the movie fading out into the background as you focus more on Ross’ heartbeat.

Time passes and you stay like this until the credits of the movie roll. Ross takes the remote and switches the TV off, only street lights illuminating the living room.

“Darling, you awake?” You blink groggily, the haze of sleep clouding your thoughts as you turn to look up at him.

“Barely I see,” he chuckles, “c’mon love, our bed is so much comfier.”

“You win, carry me though?” You let out a tired laugh, knowing he was right but still reluctant to leave your current spot of coziness.

Ross grins, his arms already shifting beneath you as he prepares to lift you from the couch.

“As you wish my dear,” With a gentle heave, Ross effortlessly lifts you into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he carries you towards the bedroom. You nestle against him, feeling safe and secure in his embrace as he teases and teases you along the way.

“See, wasn’t so bad, was it?” Ross preps a row of kisses to your head, his heart swelling with love for you. He tucks you under the blanket and then wrapping you up in his arms.

“Thank you Ross,” you mumble, “I love you.” He kisses your neck in return, mumbling a quiet “I love you” back.

In this position you drift off to sleep.

#the 1975 #ross macdonald #matty healy #george daniel #adam hann #ross macdonald fluff #the 1975 fic #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald x you #ross macdonald blurb

[ilyasorokinn]

thank the donkey , ross macdonald

note, okay, originally, there was going to be a big halloween series, but i couldn't think of anything that really spoke to me and i wasn't inspired, but i was inspired to write for ross. so, this is my contribution to the holiday. this is my new personality trait, get used to it. also, lmk if you like this little family because i do and would like to write more if you'd want to see it :) another note, i tried to find photos of the costumes but couldn't so please just use your imagination :) last note, dedicating this to vee (@abiiors)! i was inspired by your dad!ross, so in my world, ross is also a girl dad and names his daughters after flowers lol love ya <3 pair, ross macdonald x reader summary, poppy macdonald is upset her dad is working on halloween. her dad is even more upset he has to work. so, he does the best he can to make the night special for her. warnings, kids/children word count, 1240 words (a little short, i know. but i promise it's sweet!)

(gif not mine)

Halloween, no matter how old you were, was your favorite holiday. When you were growing up, most of the other kid's favorite holiday was Christmas, not you. Maybe it was that your parents went all out, or maybe it was that they let you eat all the candy you wanted, but it left a lasting mark on you.

So, when you had your first daughter, her second Halloween (the first you really celebrated with her), you went all out. You and Ross dressed up as poppies and Poppy was a gardener. She had no idea what was going on but she found it hilarious that her parents were wearing weird big flower things on their heads.

Now, Poppy was four, and her little sister, Willow, was 10 months old. Poppy had inherited your love for Halloween and by August had her Halloween costume planned. She wanted to match with you and Ross which made you a little sad, knowing that Ross would have to work on Halloween.

When you did tell her he was working, she was sad but her mood brightened a little when you told her she could still dress up for the show.

She was very adamant about being Donkey from Shrek, so you did your best to make that happen. The band loved the idea of Shrek, so they each decided to follow in your daughter's footsteps and dress up as a different character and assigned themself different characters.

Poppy was Donkey, Willow would be Puss in Boots, Gabbriette would be the Fiona to your Shrek, Matty would be Lord Farquaad while George, Adam, and Ross would be the Three Blind Mice. John would be the Dragon, Jamie would be Pinocchio, Polly would be the Big Bad Wolf and Gabrielle would be the Fairy Godmother.

Poppy was completely oblivious to everyone's costumes and was just excited to get to dress up and eat candy all night.

On the day, you walked around Detroit and got her some candy from a couple of stores that were handing it out before you headed over to the arena for soundcheck, one of Poppy's favorite parts of the concerts. She got to go on stage and dance around with her uncle and dad.

Before the show, after Ross helped you dress the girls, and after he'd left to get himself ready, Gabbriette came in and watched the girls briefly while you got ready, and took pictures of you and the girls before Willow started to cry. You soothed her then slipped headphones onto both her and Poppy. Poppy's headphones had a pair of donkey ears glued on and Willow's had a pair of cat ears.

You heard the intro to the opening song and held Poppy's hand as you walked to the side of the stage where you watched the show. Willow sat in the baby Bjorn comfortably and watched from the stage with wide eyes.

"Mommy." Poppy gasped when she saw the band dressed up as the characters from her favorite movie.

"I know." You gasped with the same enthusiasm as you bent down to her level, "Look at Uncle Matty." You giggled with her when she saw what he was wearing.

Ross looked over to the side of the stage and waved at Poppy, who giggled and waved back shyly. Poppy couldn't stop smiling as she looked at the band's costumes.

Somewhere in the middle of the set, Matty finally addressed the crowd and addressed their crazy costumes, "Now, I know we look a little crazy right because we're missing our main characters, but I'll have you know this idea was formed because of my little goddaughter. She loves Shrek, and I mean, who doesn't?" The crowd cheered at that.

"So, the littlest MacDonald is Donkey and her mom is Shrek. Strange, I don't know how we got there, but here we are." He shrugged, keeping everything about your daughter vague because he knew you and Ross didn't want people knowing too much about Poppy or Willow, "So, anyways, everyone thank Donkey for this genius idea." Matty and Ross looked over to the side of the stage where Poppy was beaming at the sound of the cheers.

The rest of the show went on as normal and right before Ross turned off the lights, Poppy ran onto the stage and over to her dad, which sent the crowd into a frenzy because Little MacDonald, Donkey herself, was on stage. The lights were strobing so there wasn't a clear image of her face which was why she was on the stage in the first place.

Ross picked her up and carried her over to the giant light switch that would turn off the lights on the stage. He waited a few seconds before he gave her a nod and she pulled the lever, shutting the lights off on the stage.

He carried her offstage and once she was in the safety wings, she was off and running to greet her uncles and godfather. Ross removed Willow from the Bjorn, surprised that she was still awake because it was way past her bedtime.

Now baby-free, you gladly accepted the drink Gabbriette was handing you, "She's gonna be up a while, isn't she?" Ross asked.

"I'm hoping for a sugar crash," You smiled, watching George pick up Poppy and run around with her like an airplane, "You did amazing tonight, by the way." You nudged him.

"Yeah, I had a donkey and an ogre to impress." He teased.

"I'm gonna save the smack in the head for later because you're holding my baby." You narrowed your eyes at him.

"I love you, too." He wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you followed everyone else into whichever room would be used as the afterparty room.

You rolled your eyes, "I love you, too, even if you're mean to me sometimes." In response, he placed a kiss on your head.

When you made it to the room, Matty was standing outside with Poppy, who was pouting, "Why can't I go in?" She whined.

"It'll ruin the surprise, Pop." He explained, tapping her on the head, "You like surprises, don't you?" She nodded her head enthusiastically, "Then just wait a second." Poppy turned to you and frowned.

"Listen to your uncle, flower," Ross told her. She frowned and crossed her arms, "Just wait a second." He laughed.

A few seconds later, Matty opened the door and nodded over to Poppy, "Cmere." She skipped over to him, gasping when she saw what was in the room.

The best part of Halloween, in any kid's eyes, was trick-or-treating, and everyone knew that Poppy was a little upset she was missing it, so in the biggest room in the arena, everyone spread out with little bags of candy, creating a makeshift version trick-or-treating.

"Here's your bag." Matty handed her a big bag before tapping her on the head once more. She didn't need to be told twice before she was running into the room from person to person, gathering candy.

You looked over at Ross, who was smiling with pride, "You planned this, didn't you?"

"Halloween's her favorite." He shrugged, before producing your favorite candy bar from his pocket, "Like her mother's." He kissed your head again, smiling as Poppy giggled.

"You're amazing, Ross MacDonald, you know that?" You smiled up at him.

"Says you." He nudged you, smiling equally as big and squeezing your shoulder.

-

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#taylor writes #taylor writes: 1975 #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald imagines #the 1975 imagine #the 1975 imagines #ross macdonald #the 1975 #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald blurbs #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald fanfic #ross macdonald fanfiction #the 1975 fic #the 1975 blurbs #the 1975 fanfiction #the 1975 fanfic

[uramilf]

Anything to do with Ross + fluff please 🙏 🥹🤭❤️🎀😍😘

Yes THANK YOU I have been in a Ross mood recently but I’m sick af so I’m going to reflect my current mood in this blurb 🥰

Ross didn’t want to leave you. He really didn’t. But he didn’t exactly have a choice, either. The tour was coming to an end, and his fans would go crazy if he wasn’t at the show. They couldn’t find another bassist at such short notice anyway. So he pressed one last kiss to your sweaty forehead and left you shivering in bed in the unfamiliar hotel room.

“Baby?” you called after him. “Don’t rush home, I’m ok. Go to the after party and have fun.”“Absolutely not,” he replied with a smile. “I’ll be back here before you know it.”

With that he was gone, off to the venue with the guys. He barely stopped texting you until half 8 on the dot, making sure you were ok every five minutes. The second he left the stage during “When We Are Together” he texted you again. You watched the entire livestream, of course, and people went crazy when they saw your Instagram username appear in the comment section with a heart emoji when Ross and Matty had one of their cute little moments. You imagined it would be the talk of Twitter the next day.

At almost midnight, Ross returned to the hotel room to find you fast asleep in the exact spot he left you in six hours prior.

“Wake up, baby,” he murmured, shaking your shoulder lightly. “I’m back.”

You rolled over to face your boyfriend, a smile forming on your half-asleep face.

“Hi darling. I watched the whole show, you were great.” You were still coughing and sniffling, causing Ross to frown.

“You could’ve been getting some sleep, pretty girl. You still not feeling good?”

“Not really, no.”

“Well, I’ll let you get back to sleep then,” Ross sighed, wishing it were him instead of you.

“No, not without you!” you pouted.

“Alright, give me two minutes then,” he smiled softly, secretly thrilled to hear that you don’t want to go to sleep without him being beside you.

A few minutes later he was back, in a pair of plaid pyjama trousers and an old Ramones t-shirt, climbing into bed beside you. He pulled you close straight away, kissing every part of your face and neck he could reach.

“Quit that, you’ll get sick!”

“Don’t care,” he mumbled, head buried into your chest now.

“Are the other guys out partying then?” you giggled softly, gently taking your boyfriend’s hair down and teasing his long locks through your fingers. He sighed in relief as you scratched at his head gently.

“Matty and George have gone out. No clue where, though, and I think Polly’s with them. Adam’s gone back to his room to call Carly. Not sure about everyone else.”

You continued to play with his long hair until he was practically snoring in your arms, making you laugh every couple of minutes. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep too though, feeling much better, and safer, now that Ross was back beside you where he belonged.

#the 1975 #ross macdonald #ross macdonald blurb #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald imagine #ross the 1975

[hypersonic04]

Maroon

this is essentially what i daydream about when i listen to this song. sultry, sexy, drunk vibes. I also haven't proof-read this so apologies for any grammar mistakes! enjoy my darlings!

Word Count: 1,984

Laughter breaks out across the room. Eyes crinkling at corners, loud obnoxious giggles, spilled drinks across fresh white cushions. There's a soft, warm glow in the room, and it doesn't seem to be coming from the dim lamps and candles scattered over every sideboard.

Matty's told some hilarious joke, as per usual, and the ripple of laughter that it creates doesn't seem to be dimming down. Tears roll down my face as I throw my head back, the red wine I'd earlier downed now making my eyes fuzzy.

The boys have come round to see me while they're in New York, and it's like we're still the same schoolkids who used to smoke cigarettes behind school together. George sat on the floor cushion, Matty (for some reason) stood at the fireplace like some kind of storyteller, Adam taking his seat in the armchair. Ross sits at the opposite end of the sofa, glass of wine in hand, smiley and presumably a bit drunk. My feet are tucked up underneath me, and I find my gaze travelling across the room. It's snowing outside, but the apartment has never been warmer.

"We should probably leave soon, you know. it's like, 1 o'clock." George pipes up, knocking back the rest of his beer and setting the empty bottle down on the coffee table.

"Oh shit, yeah. Didn't realise the time." Matty muses, glancing at his watch. "Busy day tomorrow."

"Oh, really?" I hum, looking at him. He looks older, his curls greyer, but the way he talks resembles the same 14 year old boy that used to piss me off in English.

"Yeah, SNL rehearsals, isn't it?"

"Oh gosh, yeah. I completely forgot." I nod, sipping from my wine glass.

I watch as Adam and George go to grab their coats from the closet in the hallway, already meandering their way around like the place is theirs. I smile softly to myself as I watch them leave the living room, the smell of incense and the faintest smell of cigarette smoke wafting it's way around the room.

"Are you coming, mate?" Matty asks Ross, pulling his coat over his shoulders.

"Still got half a bottle of wine." He answers Matty, yet looks at me as he speaks. His eyes are tired, dark, the way they get after a long night or slightly too many beers.

Having him here feels... strange. We left our situation behind when I left for New York, agreeing that this would never work across two different continents - it never even worked when we lived down the road from each other. He could focus on the band, I could focus on my writing, and everything would be right.

Except from when I bring someone home and he's all I can think about when their lips are on mine. Or when his favourite song comes on and it's like I can smell him, hear him humming along, feel his hands around my waist.

I swallow deeply as the staring contest between us becomes uncomfortable.

"Didn't realise you liked red wine so much, Ross." Matty quips, a smirk on his lips as he looks between the two of us.

I inhale sharply as I'm brought back to reality, looking to Matty.

"I'll see you out." I smile, standing up from the sofa and placing the wine glass on the floor.

Hugs and goodbye's are exchanged between the four of us, Matty wiggling his eyebrows at me with a smirk.

"If he's wearing the same clothes tomorrow, I'll take it as a good sign."

"Shut. Up."

I have to practically push him out of the door, closing it behind them and sliding the latch over. Breathing deeply, I close my eyes for a second. Ross is in there - Ross that was my every first imaginable, every notion of love I have, the one I forced myself to get over.

When I walk back into the living room, he's stood next to the record player, two newly-full wine glasses on the coffee table. I have to pause for a second, a wave of nostalgia clouding my mind. He looks so warm, like he's at home, brown eyes making their way across the reams of vinyl records neatly lined up in alphabetical order.

"That one used to be mine, you know?" He smirks as he points at Rumours by Fleetwood Mac.

"I think you'll find that it was actually me who bought that one. It just somehow, conveniently ended up in your bedroom." I laugh airly, taking a large glug and watching him over the rim of the glass. He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head in defeat.

Music of Matty's choice bounces around us, tinny and low from the cheap speaker. The room feels strangely full, despite having nearly emptied of people only moments ago. It's a different kind of full, almost claustrophobic, hot.

I take a seat on the floor cushion George had been sat on, my back against the sofa.

"You know, that wine's been sat in the cupboard for months. Couldn't get anyone else to drink it." I say as I see the empty green bottle next to me.

"Oh, really nice of you. Give us the cheap shit, I see how it is-"

"No, that's not what..." My voice trails off as I laugh, tilting my head back. "That's not what I meant."

"It's okay. You're right, if there's anyone who'll drink the cheapest, offy booze, it's us."

I nod in agreement, watching how his tall figure comes to sit next to me. He presses his back against the armchair, legs outstretched and crossed at the ankle.

"It's nice, your flat."

"Thank you," I give him a small smile, lips pursed as I look around the room. "It's good enough."

We sit in silence for a second.

"It's weird though. Being here on my own, I mean." I chew on my bottom lip as he looks at me. "It's just... quiet."

"'Can imagine it's nice after years of being around Matty."

I laugh softly through my nose, lips curving into a smile. The way his eyes crease gives me an oh-so-familiar feeling.

"Your hair's longer." I smile, feeling the alcohol swimming around my head.

"So is yours." He observes, looking at the hair around my face intently. "It's darker. You've dyed it." He says matter-of-factly and I nod in reply.

He looks at me intently and I blush under his gaze.

"I missed you, you know." He raises his eyebrows a little and purses his lips.

"Well, I missed you too." I nod. "A lot, actually. Was wondering when you'd come out to see me."

"I just figured you'd have it all sorted out over here, last thing you'd need would be me coming and upsetting everything."

"You could never upset anything, Ross." I laugh into my wine, a foreign kind of bravery flowing through me. I take myself by surprise. He smirks at this, setting his glass down.

"Did you get a tattoo?" He says suddenly, voice chipper as he takes hold of my wrist.

"Yes!" I laugh, quickly attempting to take my eyes away from the way his fingers wrap around my wrist, large and firm and calloused. "Do you like it?"

"Love it." He smiles, and there's a look in his eyes that I can't place. Meeting my gaze for a second before looking back down at the small tattoo on my wrist, he rubs his thumb over it. "Didn't think you were the type to get one, you know."

"Why's that?" I challenge, cocking my head at him in an accusatory way.

"Too much commitment in a tattoo." He teases and I let my jaw drop, pulling my wrist away from him sharply. "I'm joking, I'm joking!"

"You better be." I laugh.

He reaches for my arm again and I subconsciously nudge myself closer to him, bum sliding on the wooden flooring beneath me. His fingertips are soft on my skin, gentle. Silence consumes us for a few seconds, his eyes fixated on the tattoo again.

"It was never about commitment, Ross." I say suddenly, voice barely above a whisper. It takes him by surprise, eyes meeting mine quickly.

"Then what was it about?" He says. His tone isn't harsh or judgemental, just soft and low, the rumble of his voice making my breaths shallow.

"I don't know, I just..." I inhale sharply and find myself blinking at him, my mouth dry suddenly.

"I know." He nods subtly.

"I feel like, like I gave so much up to be here." I start, looking up at the ceiling for a second, the burgundy paint up there suddenly feeling like it could cave in. I swallow and try to gather my thoughts, the encouraging expression on his face clearing my blurry mind. "I took it for granted - my mum, you, the boys, my job. I risked everything to be here, and I just... I miss it. I miss you."

"But look at you, look how amazing your life is. You've dreamt of this forever."

"It's not worth it, Ross." I shake my head at him, the eye contact between us intense. "It's not worth being away from you."

"Well I'm here, aren't I?"

I look at his face for a second. He's right, he is here.

"Mhm." I smile, and I know that every drink we've consumed in the past four hours is present on our faces right now.

Pink, flushed cheeks, bleary eyes, clumsy hands.

"I'm so glad you're here." I sigh, my voice quiet.

"Had to make some time out of my very busy schedule, didn't I? You know, this rock star stuff is very time consuming."

I laugh into his shoulder, remembering how I used to tease him about not making time for me when we were young and he'd have some show every weekend.

"Oh, yeah? Is it really?" I laugh, looking up at him with drunken giggles escaping my lips.

"Yeah, it is."

We find ourselves giggling like teenagers, our faces impossibly close, warmth radiating from each other. The second his lips find mine, I feel the wine glass in my hand lazily tip backwards. I gasp, the cold of the drink taking my surprise.

"Shit-" he breathes with an airy laugh, pulling back. The red of the wine soaks through the white t-shirt, cold on my skin. "Sorry, I-"

"It's fine-" I laugh as he attempts to rub it away, his hand on my chest for far too long. "You know, if you didn't like my t-shirt, you should've just said."

"Fuck off." He laughs, shaking his head at me. His eyes find my lips again, and before I can think about the stained t-shirt anymore, it's like he consumes my every thought.

He pulls me onto his lap, so I'm straddling him, his hands under my wet shirt immediately. His tongue against mine makes me inhale sharply, fingertips lost in his hair.

Pulling away for a second, I breathe heavily, eyes fixed on the pink of his lips. My thumb swipes over his bottom lip, his own dark gaze following my every move. His breaths are warm, hot against my skin, deep. He pulls the t-shirt over my head, discarding it somewhere, my chest tinted slightly red from the wine.

"Who did that?" He asks deeply, his eyes finding the mark on my neck from weeks ago. A one night stand, an attempt to fill a void, a distraction from the mess I'd made.

"He wasn't you." I whisper, shaking my head. "None of them are you."

His lips find my neck as I sigh, leaving little marks across my collarbone. When he decides he's content with his effort, he pulls away, hands on my waist and pulling at the belt loops on my jeans. His lips are puffy, swollen and flushed, and I remember why I used to call them home.

#1975 band #adam hann #fanfic #george daniel #matty healy #ross macdonald #the 1975 #matty the 1975 #ross macdonald fluff #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald imagine

[tillthelandslide]

Same For You (14) : Can't Get Enough

Series Masterlist

(13) Take Me Higher

A/n: a huge thank you to my love @achangeofheartx ilysm, thank you for reading this for me, i miss you. Heads up everyone, its a long one and im not entirely sure when the next part will be out so enjoy this for a while hehe. Love you all - Lou

The Uber drops her off at Matty's house 15 minutes later. She had texted him a few times and tried to call him but didn't get a reply. She thinks maybe he's fallen asleep but her worry had truly started to set in so she had to at least try to see if he was okay.  It was unlike Matty to leave through a session, sure they were nearly done but he was usually the last to leave and if he did he never left without saying goodbye and a hug or two. She politely knocks on the door twice, waiting for some kind of sound from inside. She can hear a low mumbling sound so she knocks again, hoping he’d be close enough to hear her now. The house falls silent for a few moments before she hears shuffling again. Her hand finds the door  and she knocks once more, deciding if he didn't answer this time she'd give in and head home. 

She hears someone swear inside and a few moments later someone is fumbling with the door handle. Inch by inch she sees him and her throat dries. Her eyes rake slowly down his form but to him it’s quicker than a blink of an eye, he still notices though, and if he was in his usual ‘Matty state of mind’: the Matty that fancies her like mad and whose heart would pick up with so much as a single look from her; he’d smirk.  He stands before her, his hair a mess on top of his head, trousers undone and hardly on, a clear sign he had just put them on. He is shirtless and he looks a mess. But not an 'im sick and you've just woke me up" kind of a look, but a "you've just caught me after I've been fucking" kind of look.

One tell-tell sign is the red lipstick stains covering his neck. She immediately takes a step back, distancing herself from him. Her chest constricts, her throat dries, she swallows but that doesn’t help, she looks him up and down again, attempting to see this from a new angle, one in which doesn’t make her feel this way. She hates this, she hates that she stands there with a mouth opening and shutting like a fish out of water, she hates that it's him standing there, topless and looking like that. More than anything she hates how she finds herself feeling jealous, all whilst she can still feel the ghost of another man’s lips on her skin - on her lips. Her eyes fall to his lips and they move, he speaks. His voice is sudden and it has her stepping back more.

Walls back up but they’re weak but at least they’re there, whether they protect her at all is yet to be seen. She tries to push down the sicky feeling that makes its way into her stomach and the sudden nausea she feels is off putting. 

"Y/n…" his voice trails off and he looks like a deer caught in the headlights. She hears a noise coming from further in the house and her eyes flick towards it, hearing a woman speak before she sees her.  A high pitch and entirely fake "babe, come back to bed" before she sees a blond girl wearing his shirt and a pair of panties standing at the middle of his stairs. She steps back again, another step back, more distance, it doesn’t stop the pain in her chest and it definitely does not stop her feeling sick.

"Y/n wait!!!" He says, she turns and starts walking down the street. She doesn't look back but he follows. He watches her chest as she walks, rising and falling rapidly, he hates it. 

"Wait, I can explain!"  Matty shouts, despite jogging alongside her now. 

"Matty it's fine you don't have to explain… it's pretty obvious what's going on" she says her voice is slightly snappy and she scolds herself for sounding like that. He stops her with a hand to her shoulder.

"You can't seriously be annoyed?" He asks and she sighs. She closes her eyes for a second or two before they’re opening. Glazed and glistening orbs finding his. 

"I'm not annoyed Matty" she doesn’t sound like her and Matty really doesn’t like that. It feels odd, like he’s talking to a version of her that he doesn’t know, it feels formal and way too unfamiliar. 

"Tell that to your face" his eyes flick around her features, despising the way his heart picks up as he looks at her. 

“Go home Matty, you’ll freeze out here” she says, stepping back again until his hand falls from her shoulder.

“Y/n talk to me please”

"Sorry, George told us you weren't feeling well so I thought I'd come check on you but it's fine… I see you're preoccupied" her eyes flick back down the street to where his door can just about be seen. 

"You're so annoyed" he says with a smirk, taking a step back, running a hand through his hair cockily. He can’t deny that he enjoys the fact he’s gotten under her skin and how she's trying to hide it but failing miserably. 

"I was worried about you Matty! I thought you were sick! So I come to check on you only to find out you're not sick at all" she laughs "actually you're so ‘unsick’ that you're fucking some girl' she says, she looks away from him but he turns her face back to look at him. She cringes at how jealous she sounds. 

"Y/n you were with Ross…." He says and she freezes. Shit… he heard. She's silent.

"You were with Ross… you are with Ross" he raises his hands in the air before they fall to his sides. His chest matches hers now, rising and falling harshly but in tandem with one another. 

"Me and Ross… we're not… with each other" Matty rolls his eyes. He takes a step towards her and she takes one back, needing the distance. 

"But you want to be and so does he"

"Matty we can't… we work together" she lies again and she hates that she does. She hates that she can't seem to tell him the truth. 

"I wish you wouldn't lie to me… and stop! Stop saying that! Just be an adult and admit you want to be with him… it would save a lot of trouble"

"What's that supposed to mean?" She asks, raising her voice slightly.

"It means… maybe if you'd grow up a little and admit you like him that it would save us all a lot of time" he says, venom laced in his words. Their age gap was something that both of them agreed was something trivial, a fact that didn't really matter. But now he's bringing it up and using it to spite her. And it's horrible.

"Fuck you Matty' she spits back, turning and walking away from him again. He catches her quickly, pushing against her until her back is against the wall of a building. One hand rests against the brick next to her hand whilst the other anchors her to him with a firm grip on her hip. She’s breathless.

"Tell me you don't want Ross… tell me and I'll go tell that girl to fuck off…" he says, his hand moves to her waist and it feels electric - it feels like fire and ice combined. It burns against her skin and she has to close her eyes to push the feeling away. She can’t keep them closed for too long though, not wanting to miss a single moment. 

"Matty…" she opens her eyes, she can feel him against her, really feel him. His chest against hers, soft but toned, so close that she can feel his erratic heartbeat against her chest. She can feel their breath combining, beginning to move in tandem, riding and falling together, against each other. 

"I know you feel something here" one gentle hand presses against her chest between them, right over her heart.

"Matty stop" she clamps her eyes shut again, making him disappear. But the feelings she's been trying so hard to push away don't disappear either. And she hates that. 

"Say it" he leans in closer, so much closer. She can feel his lips graze hers. She wants to move away from him, but that would make her seem bothered by his movements. 

“Tell me you don't want me too” she feels his words against her lips. It's a featherlight touch, a graze, a barely-there connection but she feels it in her soul. 

She breathes a heavy breath before her eyes flutter open, they cover his face, landing on his lips and one of her hands comes to rest against his cheek, soothing over the stubble covered skin. He watches as her eyes gloss over slightly, before she's whispering the two words that he has to pretend don't completely derail his world.

"I can't"

“Doesn’t mean you don’t want to” he says, begging her one last time, to change her mind, to tell him what he wants to hear, what he so desperately wants her to say.

“I can't” she repeats. 

"Exactly" he pulls away and starts walking back to his house again.

"Matty! Wait" she says, halting him, he turns again. She wants to say that she does want Ross but she wants him too. But she can't.

"Whether you admit it or not.. Ross likes you and you were with him. I heard you… so as long as you keep denying how you feel… I'm going to go back up to my house" he says, pointing behind him "and I'm going to be with someone who can actually admit they want me" he walks two steps before he turns again.

"And preferably someone who doesn't also like my best friend" he leaves her standing there breathless and speechless.

She walks home in an attempt to clear her head, but Matty's words keep ringing around her mind. It makes her heartbeat quicken and she finds herself walking twice as quickly. 

She showers - a long, hot shower and another attempt to rid the thoughts from her mind. It fails. She tries to sleep but she can't. She tosses and turns, getting more tired by the minute but still failing to sleep. She hates that he was right. She hates that once again he saw straight through her. She hates herself even more for the whole ordeal… for falling for someone so quickly and even more so for the feelings she bore towards Matty.

She almost wishes she never met them, it would make things easier, she wouldn't have come in and fucked up both their lives.

But selfishly (or not so, knowing they'd feel the same) she knows this, complicated and kind of fucked up situation is a thousand times better than not having them in her life.

She hates that she can’t stop thinking about his words, about that girl standing at the top of his stairs. She was nothing like that girl… is that why he picked her? To distract himself with something different, someone different. Someone who wasn't her. She feels her eyes flutter and she thinks she might, finally, fall asleep. But then her phone is blaring on her nightstand and she reaches far too quickly to retrieve it.

“Hi” she says sadly, knowing who was calling. 

“Hi…” he says, his voice is quiet and unsure.

“I was trying to sleep… trying so goddamn hard to not call you… but I made a promise” he explains and she sighs.

“Maybe you should've broken it” her voice sounds bitter and she hates it. She hates that she's mad at him, because she doesn't really have the right. She brought this all in herself.

“Y/n/n…” his voice trails off, she hears the flick of his lighter and the soft exhale. She imagines the smoke piling out between his lips and once again she has to close her eyes to get the image out of her mind.

She feels her breath quicken, her eyes water and her lip shakes.

“Matty” his name slips out, the word wavering. He immediately knows she's crying and his heart twists in chest, as if someone's thrust a hand through the skin, grabbed hold and squeezed with all their strength.

“Do you not understand how hard this is for me?” She asks, each word is so quiet he nearly misses them. 

Matty doesn't reply for a few moments, listening to the way she was breathing on the other side of the line. Bated and harsh, occasionally she'd inhale and it would be shaky. He made her cry. He swore he wouldn't do that again.

“It's hard for me too y/n/n…” she nods although she knows he can't see her. 

“Do you wish you never met me? It would be easier that way”

“No y/n. No. Never” he says.

“Why do you not hate me Matty?” her voice shakes and he hears the sob that tears through her at the end of her words.

“I could never hate you” 

“But why? I deserve it…” she wants to continue, to say, "I'm stringing you along, I'm falling for your best friend faster than I should be, I'm allowing myself to be with him but denying you and you should hate me for it” But she doesn't say that. 

“No matter what you did… no matter what you will do… I don't think I could ever hate you” 

“I don't think that's how it should be Matty” she rolls onto her back, looking up at the pictures hanging across her room. She both loves and hates how many there are of both men now. They’re there, always there, demanding that her heart belongs to them and she doesn’t have the power to say no, to either of them and that’s the problem. 

“Who says?” She shrugs. They're silent for a second before she lets her intrusive side ask the question that's been on her lips from the moment he called.

“How was she?” He chuckles and it makes her smile. Why was she smiling?

“She wasn't you” 

The date is perfect, exactly like a dream, every detail is etched in her brain and she's sure it will stay there forever, marked as the best date she had ever been on. 

He arrived with a huge bouquet of lilies and tulips, so big that she couldn't see his face when she opened the door. He lowered them slowly, making her giggle and reach for his collar, tugging him inside her flat. She felt freer this morning, hellbent on just focusing on the man in front of her. The man who, with one more tug from her, is lowering the flowers to the little table she has by the door and taking her waist into his large hands.

He lowers his mouth to hers gently, they both sigh in tandem. Bliss. This was bliss.

“I missed you” he murmurs against her mouth. She doesn't say it's been less than a day, she doesn't say that despite barely having a minute to think about anything but Matty and his words, and the phone call, she missed him too. She didn't even have to think about Ross to miss him, she didn't have to think at all. Her body and the way it longed for his touch, longed to see those dimples appear at his cheeks and the way his eyes glistened as he looked down at her. Her body and her mind missed him without even having to try.

“I missed you too” she says, slowly pulling away, she reaches for the flowers behind him, smiling widely down at them.

“Thank you, they're beautiful” 

“Just like you” his words make her giggle and blush. 

“Let me go put these in some water and then we can go” he nods, and follows her into her kitchen. She retrieves a vase from one of her cupboards, filling it with tap water before unwrapping the flowers and putting them in.

She turns to him and smiles, watching the way his fingers traced over a new photo attached to her fridge - One she took of Ross and June at the studio. His smile is so big and it makes her heart swell every time she looks at it, only worsened by the way her nephew is looking up at the bassist. 

“What’s the plan Macdonald”? She asks, loving the way he blushes slightly and the way he smirks down at her and especially the way he nibbles his bottom lip slightly.

“Well…” he says, turning to her and opening his arms, she steps into them freely, loving the way his large arms wrapped around her frame. She instantly felt safe. She felt at home.

“There's this record shop I wanted to show you” she smiles and nods excitedly “and then I booked a table at this restaurant” he says and her eyebrows raise.

“Aren't I a bit underdressed for that?” She asks, eyes flicking down to her clothes.

“Love you could turn up in a bin bag and still look better than everyone in there” it makes her giggle again which makes him smile widely, pecking her lips briefly.

“Besides…” his hand that's around her waist slips slightly, resting against her hip and squeezing.

“You could be…” his hand slips further, rounding the side of her hip, taking a handful of her arse and squeezing until she's gasping.

“More, underdressed” his words make her cheeks coat a deep red but she doesn't hide from him. Darker eyes boring into hers as he smirks an evil smirk.

“I like these jeans” he says, squeezing her arse again. She wore them on purpose, loving the way they accentuated her bottom. She was glad he liked them too.

“You're going to make it really difficult to leave this house, you know that?” She asks, her hands drifting up to his jumper cladded chest, eyes wandering south from his eyes until they land on his lips. 

He leans forward until his lips are barely touching hers as he mumbles a “mhmm”. He's tortuously slow as he presses his lips to hers. Giving her a firm kiss, his tongue only slightly peaking out, grazing her lip before he's suddenly pulling back.

“We should go” he delivers a quick smack to her bum which makes her gasp and then he's gone. Walking to the door and turning to her at the last moment, smirking at her playfully.

“You're mean Macdonald” 

“Now you know how I've felt every single day since meeting you” 

They walk hand in hand as they walk the streets, searching for the store Ross mentioned. They talk and laugh as they walk and sometimes Ross can't resist the urge to pull her close with an arm around her shoulders and press a kiss to the side of her head, even leaning down and capturing her lips with his occasionally. 

They eventually stumble into the record store, Ross shushing Y/n with his lips as she giggles at something he says. It's quaint and quiet, an oldish man rounding the corner with a huge smile on his face when he sees them.

“Ross” the man says, making the bassist step forward to greet the man with his hand still on her waist. Ross extends his hand and they shake hands before the man's eyes are on her.

“You must be Y/n” he says and she smiles and nods.

“I am” she says, looking up at Ross who smiles at her before looking at the man again.

“Ross here talks a lot about you” he says before he slips round the back of the counter. He disappears for a moment.

“Is that so?” she asks the bassist who smirks down at her, rolling his eyes and pinching her hip lightly making her yelp.

“Don’t get cocky” he warns and she almost has to stop herself from falling to her knees.

The man appears again with several records in his hands all of which she recognises immediately. She slips from Ross’ grasp and meets the man at the counter as he places the records in front of her.

“Now these are really special and not for sale unfortunately but Ross here told me you were a big fan so I pulled them out especially for you” he says making her smile. Her eyes flick back to Ross who is already watching her intently, watching the way her face lights up. She turns away from him but her hand reaches out behind her - reaching for him. He comes to stand next to her, his right arm resting around her waist, holding her hip against him.

The man shows her his Fleetwood Mac collection, many of them limited edition vinyl's and even a few test pressings. She's overwhelmed with gratitude, not just for the records, but for the effort Ross put into making this day so special for her. As they browse through the collection, his fingers gently trace patterns on her hip, and she can't help but steal glances at him, realising how lucky she is to have him by her side.

They finish exploring the record store, revelling in their shared joy of music, they leave hand in hand, her bag a few records heavier, their laughter echoing through the quiet streets and Ross can’t help but want to hear nothing but the beautiful symphony he draws from her, forever more. The sun is beginning to set, casting a warm glow of orange and pink over the city. As they approach the restaurant y/n looks up at Ross excitedly.  Inside Ross takes over her coat, his fingers grazing her bare shoulders, setting her skin ablaze.

“Trying to undress me already, Macdonald?” she asks, her voice low, purposefully trying to get him hot under the collar. He coughs lightly, pushing away the lump in his throat and the way his stomach flips. He hands his coats to a waiter who instantly recognises him, leading them to a secluded corner table with flickering candles.

“Do you know everyone?” she asks as he holds out the chair for her, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek as he tucks her in.

“I’ve got my links” he says into her ear, making her giggle. She takes in the bouquet of pink roses at the centre of the table, the scent of the flowers mingling with the cuisine, creating an intoxicating atmosphere, although they both knew even without them it would be intoxicating. The low thrum of conversation and gentle melodies from the live pianist create a tender atmosphere. 

They each pursue the menu, Ross suggesting they share a variety of dishes, talking with the waiter and taking suggestions for the best dishes. She watches as he interacts with the man, confident and sure. She looks at him with her chin placed in the palm of her hand, eyes flicking around all of his features, practically drinking him in.  They begin to share stories about their childhood and their love for music and their friends and everything they can think of, wanting to know every single detail about each other. 

The waiter arrives with a bottle of red wine and they clink their glasses together, Ross watching intently as she brings the glass to her lips, obsessed with the way her lipstick leaves a mark on the rim. They savour their meal in contented silence but Ross can't help but gaze at Y/n, truly captivated by her beauty. Between bites, their fingers brush against each other, sparks striking and electricity flowing freely between them. Each graze feels charged with so much more, with longing and desire and love : a magnetic pull which makes it impossible to break away from each other. 

The soft glow of candlelight accentuates Ross’ soft browns and she feels the way he gazes at her, in every part of her body, feeling like she’s the only person in the room, the only person on earth. 

The night deepens, the sky outside turning dark and stars beginning to show - a rare feat for London. They share a dessert, the sweetness coating their tongues. Ross leans in, his lips grazing her ear as he whispers words that make her heart (and core) flutter. 

“Nothing is as sweet as you love” his words are laced with lust and desire, a deep crimson coating her cheeks as she smirks. She brings her spoon up to his mouth, coating his lips with chocolate, closing her mouth around his before he can lick it off. 

Everything fades into the background when his tongue grazes hers, they become engrossed in each other, no one and nothing else mattered in that moment. He begins to pull away but her finger hooks underneath his chain, halting his movements as she places one more firm kiss to his lips. 

They pull back, Y/n giddily smiling at him, he can't help but tuck his hand into his pocket, pulling out his phone to capture a snap of her. She plucks a rose from the vase in the centre of the table, carefully threading in-between her teeth, smiling. It makes Ross swoon, his stomach dipping and then soaring, she looked completely ethereal. He gently pulls the rose from her teeth, smearing his lips against hers with a hand cradling her jaw, controlling their movements until she's sighing blissfully into his mouth again.

As they leave the restaurant, the night sky twinkles, mimicking the sparkle in their eyes. Ross pulls her close, wrapping her up in his warmth and they stroll through the streets. They make their way back to her apartment, the bassist halting at her bottom step, making her turn to face him with a frown.

“I’m not going to come up tonight love” he says, making her frown deeper, her hands finding the lapels of his jacket, smoothing over the fabric of his chest.

“Okay…” she says, doubt setting in her mind, did he not want her? He silences the doubt in her mind with his next words.

“Trust me I want to…” his hand finds her waist, tugging her until she’s in his arms, lips finding hers in a passionate kiss, his tongue moving against hers and she loves the way he kisses now, sure and determined, moving against hers the way he’s worked out she likes. The way that has her breath accelerating and her hands gripping him tightly.

“You’re making it hard for me” she says against his lips. She smiles when he groans, throwing his head back, forcing their lips apart. 

“I want do this properly, take you on another date, be a gentleman” he says, squeezing her waist as he groans again, eyes falling to her lips that are just too tempting “but you make it so hard” his lips are on hers again, hands practically clamping around her waist, lifting her up the steps until he’s pressing her against the door.

“Impressive” she chuckles against his lips, hands threading through his hair. He indulges the both of them for a few minutes before he’s pulling away again, placing his head against her chest as he breathes in and out heavily.

“Okay you should go before I beg you to stay” she says, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. He pulls back to look at her, his right hand resting against her cheek, swiping across the soft flesh gently.

“Now that’s something I’m willing to wait for” there’s a softness to his words, it makes her smile and lean forward for one more, gentle kiss. It’s a brief one, a thank you for a perfect date, a thank you for being so amazing. 

“Today was perfect Ross, truly” she says, playing with the chain resting around his neck.

“Good enough to warrant another date?” he asks and she nods as she smiles.

“Definitely”. 

He pulls her into a brief hug before he’s pulling away to walk down the steps. She hates the way she instantly feels his absence. He tries so hard not to glance back and he immediately regrets it when he does. 

She watches as his eyes darken, the way his eyes fall back to her lips. She doesn’t realise she does it, but when her teeth close around her bottom lip he’s there again, he lunges up the step and he’s pressing his lips back to hers, hands greedily grabbing her waist. 

She leans into him, sighing into his mouth as he greedily takes what he wants from her. He pulls away but instantly finds the skin at her neck, tongue gliding across the flesh, teeth biting and grazing and god does it feel good. His lips graze her ear and his movements stop.

“You are the subject of all my deepest desires. I want you, your mind, your soul and body so badly Y/n” his words are hushed and she can’t quite believe they’re coming from him. It was too surreal. She can feel her heartbeat grow erratic just like her breath. 

“I’d take you up to that room of yours and make you forget every other man you’ve ever been with… every man you’ve ever wanted… I’d put them to shame I swear Y/n'' she's speechless, back arching into him as pleasure courses through her body. He’s not even doing anything now but his words have her flying. She knows they’re true, if the time he was buried in between her thighs was any indication, he’d be everything. 

“I’d make you scream my name so loud until it's the only word you can comprehend” his lips graze her neck again, moving round until they’re back against her lips. 

“Ross” she sighs, he pauses his attack against her lips, tongue grazing her lips one last time before he pulls away fully. His hands let go of her waist, grip loosening until they fully disappear.

“I’m not going to do anything to you until I’ve spoken to Matty” the mention of the other man has her mouth flying open, even more speechless before. 

He gently closes her mouth with two fingers and he places one more peck to her mouth.

“I want this Y/n, believe me I want this, don’t think I don’t, I know what you’re like, you get in that pretty head of yours and I can’t have you thinking i don't want you in every way possible okay?” he asks and she nods slowly. 

“You’re everything I have ever wanted and more” he says smiling down at her, hands smoothing out her hair softly “but I can’t do anything until I speak to Matty, I’ll never forgive myself” it's the first time he’s spoken about Matty as if he wanted her. Of course he did, but Ross usually tiptoed around the subject of his best friend.

“I’m going to go now okay? Don’t get into that pretty head of yours okay?” she doesn't speak but nods, leaning up to kiss him once more before he leaves. She opens her door silently, her back finding the other side before she slides down the wood.

“Jesus christ” she says, running a hand through her hair. That was so hot she couldn't help but think. But also what the fuck? She asks herself. 

She draws out her phone from her jacket, opening Matty’s number and typing out a message. 

“Fuck you” she types. She can't help but think if Matty wasn’t an issue, she would’ve had Ross in the way she wanted. She quickly deletes the message. Pulling up Ross’ contact instead.

“Thank you for today, it was perfect. Perfect” 

The bar is empty, the lights that are usually low are bright and her eyes flick around the room as they practise, noticing things she usually wouldn’t have. The space looks huge without all the people, the stools resting upside down against the tables, the absence of glasses, the smell of smoke and the noise of the people makes it calm. The bar manager was kind enough to let them use the space for free, they usually would’ve met at the studio but Jamie wanted to see them in a live setting (that and she was trying to ignore a certain lead singer). 

Jamie is set at the back of the bar, glasses perched at the bridge of his nose as he drinks a dark liquid - likely whisky. He sits with papers covering the table and his phone is flat against the wood, he occasionally picks it up to answer an email or text but his focus is usually on them.

They’ve practised a few songs now and he smiles and nods at her before requesting another one. He had given them free reign of choosing their setlist, the show they had planned an important one. He only makes a few suggestions here and there, mostly here to hear their full repertoire. 

“Hey Jamie” she says, she watches as his eyes flick up to her and the way he smiles as he nods. Lots of people didn’t like Jamie, she knew this from being in the fandom for years. But she didn’t receive that side of him, he was always kind to her and treated her with respect - valuing her opinion above all else.

“Can we try something new?” she asks, and he nods again.

“Of course… original or cover?” he asks, his pen resting against his lips.

“Cover” she asks, wondering if that would be a problem, she knew he eventually wanted them to just do originals but for now she thinks he might be fine with it.

“Okay… go for it” he says. Her eyes flick around to the band and they all nod. 

They begin playing a familiar tune and it's not long before her voice rings out across the room. He hears the door open slightly and his eyes flick to the noise. 

The rain is pouring down outside, hitting the pavement harshly. Matty stands there, wet curls clinging to his forehead and small droplets fall, landing on his cheek and slowly trailing down his face. He looks out at the stage, watching as her eyes flutter shut the minute she begins to sing. 

He feels his heart tighten in his chest. He feels a pit at his stomach, recognising the song and wondering who she was singing it for. 

“If you, if you could return, Don't let it burn, Don't let it fade, I'm sure I'm not being rude, But it's just your attitude, It's tearing me apart, It's ruining every day” she sings. Jamie beckons him over with a finger to his lips, not wanting to disturb her or the band.

She sounded beautiful, she always did. Jamie was impressed again, wondering if there would ever be a time where he wasn’t. Matty feels his breath getting rapid, she sung this song with such pain, it was hauntingly beautiful. But where was it coming from? Who was it about?

“I swore, I swore I would be true, And honey so did you, So why were you holding her hand?, Is that the way we stand?, Were you lying all the time?, Was it just a game to you?” her eyes open and find him and he half expects her to stop singing and storm off the stage, he expects her to look anywhere but at him. And he hates that she doesn’t.

They hadn’t spoke since he called her that night, but he knew, he knew looking at her now, those eyes that he could stare into for eternity, the way they bore into his soul, they way they look broken but hopeful… he knows he needs her and he knows she needs him just as much. 

“But I'm in so deep, You know I'm such a fool for you, You got me wrapped around your finger, Do you have to let it linger? Do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger?” her voice is beautiful, she’s beautiful. Her eyes soften looking at him and he sees the twitch of her lips, she almost smiles, almost. 

Matty can't do this, he can't sit here and pretend anymore. But he can't move now, entranced, enthralled, captivated. Always captivated by her. 

“Oh, I thought the world of you, I thought nothing could go wrong, But I was wrong, I was wrong, If you, if you could get by, Trying not to lie, Things wouldn't be so confused, And I wouldn't feel so used, But you always really knew I just want to be with you”  her eyes flutter shut again. Who was she thinking of? Was it him? Was it Ross?

“And I'm in so deep, You know I'm such a fool for you, You got me wrapped around your finger, Do you have to let it linger? Do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger?” she sings the words again. She pictures him in her mind, she feels horrible, convinced she’s the worst person to ever walk this earth. 

The date with Ross was perfect and she knew… she knew she was falling for him, hard and fast the exact way she was terrified off. But he made it so easy. So why was she having these feelings towards his best friend? Why did she want them both so much? And why was she so terrified of losing both of them? 

The singer. Why did she know that if she opened her eyes again, he’d be there, so close to slipping from her life?

“And I'm in so deep, You know I'm such a fool for you, You got me wrapped around your finger, Do you have to let it linger? Do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger?” her eyes open again and find his own immediately. 

She looks across his features and she knows. He’s here, but he won't be for long. She knows the furrow of his eyebrows, she knows the lines in between his brows, she knows the way his lip quivers slightly… he couldn't do this anymore. She was losing him.

“You know I'm such a fool for you, You got me wrapped around your finger, Do you have to let it linger? Do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger?”

He watches as the tear falls down her cheek, she quickly wipes it before her fingers are back at her guitar, finishing the song.

He stands abruptly, walking out the venue. The rain soaks him but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care about anything but her. It's not long before she’s standing with him, drenched, tears falling just as quickly as the rain. He’s facing away from her when she finds him but he quickly turns to face her when he hears his name.

He steps towards her quickly and she throws her arms over his shoulders as his wrap around her waist pulls her towards him.

“I'm sorry” he murmurs against the top of her head. He shakes as he speaks and she wonders if he’s crying. She knows what his words mean. They mean, I'm sorry I'm leaving, they mean I'm sorry you’ve broken me, they’re sorry I love you, they’re sorry you love him more. 

She shakes her head against his chest, placing her head there, silently saying “no, don’t leave, don’t give in”. Neither of them speak. The silence is suddenly broken but she doesn't like it when the words that break it are his.

"You said we couldn't because we're working together... You said it wasn't because of Ross, but then I heard you and-" he lets go of her, stepping back and turning around briefly. His hand covers his face, and he sighs heavily against his hand before he’s facing her again. She sees the heartbreak and it hurts her more than anything else ever had. His eyes are red and she sees tears she wishes she never would see. 

"Matty I'm so-"

"Don't say you're sorry" he interrupts her and her tears fall faster.

"I thought you'd never lie to me" his words are sad.

"I didn't mean to Matty... I swear... I wanted to tell you…. But" he stops her again, a sharp turn towards her, she takes one look at the angry look on his face and her voice fails her.

"But you what? What's the poor excuse you're going to come up with!" He's shouting now.

"I didn't want to hurt you Matty!" She shouts back, not because she wanted to but because she was afraid he wouldn't listen if she didn't.

"Don't do that! Don't pity me..." Neither of them say it. Neither of them mention that the fact she didn't tell him about Ross was because it was obvious he liked her too.

"You knew I liked you... You knew it.. and you still got with my best mate" it's the first time he's admitting it out loud, and it shakes her to the core.

"Matty please... As soon as I had the slight inclination that you liked me, I tried to put an end to it .. I really did. But Ross..." Her tears fall faster now and she tries to grip onto him, to pull him so he's looking at her, listening to her.

"Ross what? Ross made you?"

"No... I really like him, Matty... I tried to stop it I did but I-"

"you just couldn't" he's facing her now, grabbing her wrist and pulling her closer to him. It's a weird move but she allows him. His fingertips graze her cheek, catching the tears.

"And here I was thinking... Hoping... That you'd like me just a little bit... That you'd choose me over him... But who am I? Who am I compared to Ross? He's my best friend... He deserves you" his words are sad and she frowns up at him, shaking her head.

"Don't say that... You're everything Matty" she truly believes it's why the situation has been so god damn difficult for her.

"Don't say that just to be nice to me..."

"I'm not Matty... You have to know, this hasn't been easy for me. In fact it's been really fucking difficult" she chuckles at herself before her hand clasps his face gently.

"How?" He can't see how it would've been difficult for her.

"Because... I like you too" the confession knocks the breath from him, and her too. It was the first time she had admitted it out loud.

"But you like him more right?" She shakes her head.

"It's not like that...It's- it's both. You're both so different..." She tries her best to explain. She doesn't mention that Ross was real, whilst Matty represented a fantasy, someone who reflected parts of her soul. Whilst Ross was her soul. Ross had her heart, she knew that, and secretly so did he.

“Ross told me you went on a date…” he doesn’t look into her eyes and she doesn’t look into his actively avoiding each other, not wanting to see her reaction, hoping she’d speak and hide her true emotions. His thumb runs along the side of her face, hooking under her chin and raising it until she’s looking into his eyes. She nods.

“How was it?” he asks, eyes silently begging her not to lie. She breathes deeply, she wouldn’t lie, not this time, she couldn’t.

“It was almost perfect” the ‘almost’ accidentally slips and she’s quick to squeeze her eyes shut, wanting to avoid the question she knew he’d ask now.

“Almost?” he says. She nods but doesn’t open her eyes. 

“Open your eyes Y/n” he pleads, “please” he knew she wouldn’t tell him what the singular word meant, but they both knew, one look into his eyes and he’d be able to read her like a book. She opens them slowly, finding his glistening brown orbs.

They tell him everything he needs to know. Her eyes don’t hide the secret like she’s trying to. His mind flicks back to the conversation with Ross, he knew what Ross said, that he wouldn’t do anything without Matty’s permission, that he didn’t want to hurt his best friend but that he wanted her more than anything in the world: he wanted her soul and her body and wanted her to be his. Matty didn’t quite believe him when he said it, wondering how well his friend actually managed to resist her. But looking into her eyes now, he knows it's true. 

And what hurts more than anything, what completely destroys him, is the fact he can tell she wants Ross just as badly. 

"I can't do this," he steps away from her.

"Matty please..."

"no I can't do this y/n... I can't watch you fall in love with my best friend... Who I know is falling just as hard... And he deserves you he truly does... But I can't do that, it will break me"

"Matty please" she begs "I can't lose you..."

"It's not enough... I can't do this" he gestures between them "I just can't, it's too hard"

Right then and there, looking into his sad eyes which are coated with tears, she knows, if she didn't do something, she'd lose him.

"Matty" her voice is the clearest it's been all night and it makes him turn to her again. "I want you to kiss me" she says and his mouth falls open, despite what his brain tells him, that he can't, that it was obvious she was Ross', he steps towards her.

"we can't..." His hand holds her waist as hers fall to his shoulders.

"Please Matty... Kiss me" his eyes search hers, seeing no lie or uncertainty. She wanted this, and so did he. So he slowly lowers his mouth to hers, the initial graze sets her soul ablaze. This one graze redefined everything she ever thought. It was fireworks. It touched part of her soul which she thought was dead. But only part.

It didn't light up all of her, it didn't completely overwhelm her, they didn't merge into one being as they kissed. It was beautiful and loving and it was spectacular... But it wasn't Ross. It could never be Ross. Matty felt it too. He pulls away with a silent sob.

"You're never going to love me like you love him" he murmurs into her mouth. Her tears fall again, sad ones, ones in which tell her and him that he's right.

"I want to .. I can't lose you Matty"

"you won't, losing you would destroy me completely" he presses their lips together again. They move against each other but not easily, it’s the hardest kiss either of them have shared with anyone. Even now, it's full of we-can't, it’s full of we-shouldn’t, it's full of hurt and heartbreak. Her hands grasp his shirt harshly, not wanting him to leave just yet. They needed this, if not only for a moment. 

“Matty” she sighs against his mouth. His tongue peaks through his lips and through hers, finding hers and intertwining. He feels a wet tear fall to his cheek but it's not his and he pulls back. 

"I'm truly a shitty friend" he thinks.  He didn't deserve her and he most certainly didn't deserve a friend like Ross.

Fuck... Ross they both think they had well truly messed this whole thing up. She pulls away, gasping as the realisation settles in.

"I just kissed Ross' best friend .... Twice" she’s gone before he can stop her. She runs faster than her feet allow, but she still runs. 

"Shit. shit!" He shouts.

She doesn’t know where she’s running. But she runs and she doesn’t stop. 

Taglist: @scooby-doodoo @thereisaplaceintheheart @promocodesorry75 @eaglestar31 @thefrontofmymind @fallingforel @partoftheairforce @procrastinatinglikeapro @poisonmedaddy13 @xthe1975 @all-things-fic @jstbeeingme @rossgirly @juliardk @you-muppet @moodyyyychickx @k4tie75 @insidemymind19 @zzzhealy @maybeiwouldlikeyou @at-her-very-foreign @not-alien-girl-v @sinarainbows @friedlandblog @momentum2023 @youlooklikeshitandyousmellabit @inhalerbea @sugerkane1001 (add yourself using the link in my bio 😊, those with a line through are the ones i couldn’t tag)

#same for you the 1975 series #ross macdonald #ross macdonald smut #matty healy #matty healy smut #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald one shot #ross macdonald x oc #matty healy x oc #matty healy fanfic #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fic #matty healy fluff #matty healy imagine #matty healy x reader #adam hann #george daniel #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross mcdonald fanfic

[butyou-callmewhenyourebored]

When We Are Together - Matty Healy

Summary: In which Matty falls in love with you in stages his entire life. He knows everything is better when you're together but the two of you are oblivious to the fact you're in love with each other.

Warnings: Swearing. A small section of smut in flashback 2. Unfortunately it's not with Matty. It's with George because I am a whore. Mentions of The S*n. Mentions of Matty going to rehab, obviously we don't know all the personal details apart from the fact there was an intervention after the ilwys era ended and he went and now he's in recovery.  

Author's Note: Self proclaimed 'Not a Matty girl' just wrote 12K lol this has legit taken so long cause I procrastinate but hope you like it!  Really fucking long because I tend to let my mind wonder, I don't even know if this is any good but I'm trying to get better. I thought the concept was cute anyway. So enjoy! Let me know what you guys think and if you liked it x

Word Count: 12K

Your life had always been surrounded by the boys. So many moments in your life that their fans could only ever dream of knowing about or being involved in but you didn’t know any different, it was just your life. You had no choice in the matter when your brother and best friend in the entire world was the bassist in the band. That’s right; Ross MacDonald was your big brother and you seemed to be somewhat of a legend amongst their hardcore fanbase yourself for putting up with their antics for as long as you had! Not that you really had a choice when you were tied to them via blood but they had also hired you as their personal assistant so you could follow them around the world and so none of them had to part from you for too long.

You had personal relationships with all of the band, not just your brother who genuinely was the best big brother you could have ever asked for. He was your best friend and had been since the moment you were born. Sometimes it irritated the others how annoying the two of you were when you both got into silly moods, with all your inside jokes and side looks that nobody else understood. Especially Matty who always wanted in on the joke. But Ross was a ride or die kind of guy and you were the same. If it came down to it you would fight over who took the first bullet.

Adam Hann. Adam truly was an angel of man sent to earth to be your bestie and you don’t think you could love him anymore if you could. Someone you could geek out about The Office with on the tour bus and who brought you coffee when he could see you needed a pick me up. The most level headed of the boys, you know he’ll always be on your side. Someone who’s come to your rescue during many nights out both pre and post fame and took your hand, pretended to be your boyfriend with no questions asked and got you away from creeps more times than you would have liked. You couldn’t be more grateful for a selfless friend like Adam Hann.

George Daniel. Your ‘little’ Georgie had been in your form at school, so apart from your brother until you were much older and started hanging out with them more, you had spent the most time with him. So it’s fair to say that the pair of you were close. So close that you lived with him and Matty in your early twenties. Even a small indiscretion on his 23rd birthday much to your brother’s dismay didn’t change the course of your relationship. Now that you were both thirty two and you were still working for him, clearly the two of you didn’t care that you had seen each other naked. If anything your night together all those many moons ago had brought you closer together. You would trust him with your life.

Then there was Matty. Matty was something else. If you asked his fans, depending on if you were asking old or new fans. He was something else in two senses of the word. To you he was just Matthew. Your big brother’s best friend who was a bit of a weird kid, transitioned into a somewhat cool teenager who you had a bit of a crush on when you were seventeen, to the most annoying person you’ve ever laid eyes on. But also he was your best friend. An old married couple is what George labeled you both and he wasn’t wrong, the pair of you did have a bit of a domestic life together when he wasn’t busy being a rockstar. 

I think the fans would be shocked to find out he likes doing the mundane things in life like doing the food shop with you and fighting at the tills that it was his turn to scan his club card. Or walking the dog, drinking a good cup of tea at his Mam’s house or cooking with you over a glass of wine with Donny Hathaway playing in the background on the record player.

He had done so much for you over the years and you always thought it was just Matty being Matty and looking out for you. Hiring you as the band’s assistant, so you could see the world with them so you weren’t stuck in a stuffy office job in England. Even though you had graduated from uni with a first class degree in photography. Moving you into his home when you broke up with your long term boyfriend in 2020 so you weren’t wallowing in self pity. It was probably then, that George cemented your “marriage status” because you did do everything together and apparently you had been oblivious your entire friendship until now.

It was in this moment in Belfast on the last night of the UK tour that your head swimming with all of the moments in your life that led you to here with Matty, tears brimmed with tears. That you realised that it was him the entire time.

April 2007

You pulled the front of the white tank top you were wearing down, allowing the frilly cups of your red bra to peek out the top. Your top tucked into a short black mini skirt, paired with a big chunky belt and hoop earrings and some wedged sandals on your feet. You actually felt good about yourself for once! You, Sarah and Rebecca ready to get drunk and dance your asses off with all of your friends as you celebrated Matty’s birthday.

Matty’s 18th birthday party was being held at his house. A classic Healy house party yet you still wondered how Denise and Tim were somehow trusting him enough for the night to not burn the house down so he could celebrate his birthday with his friends without parental supervision.

You of course had yet to turn eighteen, as had your brother who was only eleven months older than you. So you turned to your lord and saviour Adam Hann who went to the local off license and bought you a pack of Bacardi Breezers for the party.

When the three of you arrived; you immediately got swept away by your other school friends, giggling at the thought of getting drunk with all your friends and making out with boys your brother would definitely disapprove of was the motivation you needed to open your first drink of the evening.

It was after a few drinks, definitely too many shots of whatever George had proclaimed Matty’s Dad’s had left for the birthday boy. You were starting to feel the effects of the alcohol you had drunk that evening when you spotted Max. Tall, brunette, curly hair and a killer watt smile that made you weak at the knees, talking to George.

Silent motivation from Phoebe as she ruffled her hands through your hair and pushing your tits into a good position as Sarah dabbed on some more lip gloss before pushing you in the direction of the boys, slapping your ass with a quick “Go get him tiger!”

Shooting her a grin over your shoulder, you strutted on over to where George and Max stood clutching their beer bottles as they conversed about god knows what. Hoping to catch his attention, you threw on your best smile as you stopped in front of the two of them. 

“Hello boys!” You beamed a the two of them, eyes lingering on Max a little longer. “Having a good night?”  You asked, twiddling the straw around your drink as you waited for their answer.

“Even better now you’re here gorgeous!” 

Your heart fluttered for a moment. Max was flirting back.

“Your tits are looking mega tonight babe!” 

George broke your eye contact with the tall brunette as your eyes flitted towards him. The blush flushing across your cheeks at George’s compliment, “Ohhh thanks G!”  You laughed awkwardly, catching his eyes fall to your tits once more just as Ross walked past the three of you.

“Dude! That’s my sister!” He punched him in the arm; a scowl on his face and immediately pulling you away with him and far away from the boys and into the crowd of people dancing in Denise and Tim’s living room.

“You’re no fun!”  You huffed.

“You can do a lot better than Max sis. Believe me! I’m just looking out for you.” 

He smiled softly at you and you sighed, knowing you couldn’t ever stay mad at him. He knew you better than anyone else and always looked out for you no matter what. “Thanks bro.  I know. I’m just going to get some fresh air, it’s a bit stuffy in here.” 

You sent him a smile, squeezing past him and all the other sweaty bodies to head out the sliding doors at the back of Matty’s kitchen. Letting out the breath you hadn’t realised you had been holding as the cool spring air brushed over your skin. Taking in the serenity of the night air, you didn’t realise anyone else was out there until you heard a cough causing you to snap your head towards the noise.

Matty was leaning up against the back wall, cigarette hanging from his lips.

“Alright birthday boy! What you doing out here by yourself?” You laughed lightly as you approached; leaning next to him as you took in the slightly solemn look on his face.

“Bit overwhelming in there. Thought I’d like the attention but there’s too many people. Half of them are just here to get drunk, they don’t care about me.” He laughed bitterly; blowing smoke into the air. “Anyway. What are you doing out here?”

“Just needed some air. It was a bit stuffy in there. Too many people.”

“Ahhh so we’re alike in our thinking.” Matty laughed. “Wish it was just you and the boys to be honest.” He mumbled, shuffling his feet.

“Hey. You know if you want we can have a do over. Come over to mine and Ross’ tomorrow. We’ll order pizza and watch True Romance. I’d hate for you to not look back fondly at your 18th.”  You smiled softly as you spoke.

“You’re brilliant.” Matty’s eyes bright as he looked at you. “I’d really like that. Thanks sweetheart.”  Matty shot you a genuine smile for the first time since you stepped outside.

A brief moment of silence settled across the two of you before Matty spoke again.

“You look incredible tonight.”

“Ohhh.” You looked down at your feet, unsure of how to take the compliment.

“Hey.” Matty lifted your chin up. “What’s all that about? You’re the most beautiful girl in the room.” He said earnestly; swiping at the apples of your cheeks and holding your jaw in his hands.

“Just didn’t think anyone could look past the fact I’m Ross’ sister. Nobody ever calls me beautiful.”

“Not even Josh? Didn’t you date him for nearly a year?”  Matty asked as you shook your head.

“Then he’s an idiot. You’re always the most beautiful girl in the room darling.”

“Matty.” 

It came out a whisper as you both stared into each other’s brown eyes. Matty’s eyes dancing across your features, settling on your lips before looking back up and catching your gaze already on him. Matty leaned in, his face getting closer to your own as your mind started racing. 

Did you want to kiss Matty? Kinda, yeah! 

Should you kiss Matty? No, definitely not. Ross would kill the both of you. 

Did you kiss Matty? Yes.

“We shouldn’t.”  You whispered, lips mere inches away from his own.

“But a birthday kiss is all I want this year.” 

His words came out of a whisper, you didn’t say anything else just pushed your lips against his and allowed him to pull you closer as his mouth moved against the softness of your glossed lips. His hands moving from your face, dancing down the sides of your body and landing on your waist before he reluctantly pulled away, forehead resting against your own.

“You’re good at that.” He pecked your lips once more.

“Mmmm.”  You hummed; opening your eyes as Matty held you close. You quickly opened your mouth to say something and promptly shut it again when you caught the way Matty looked at you. “Fuck it!” You mumbled and slammed your lips back against his own.

The birthday boy now pushing you up against the wall, hands impossibly tight on your waist as he pulled you as physically close as possible. Your hands uprooting themselves in the hair at the back of his neck and tugging as you snogged him like your life depended on it. Like you weren’t pushed against the back of his kitchen wall in his garden, where any of your school friends could come out and catch you. Or worse; your brother but you didn’t care because the way Matty was kissing you made your whole body tingle.

Tugging his hair again as his tongue moved against your own. Matty groaned loudly; finally pulling away. “Fuck settle down! You know I can’t be found with you and if you keep doing that, someone is going hear us.” He groaned as he continued to pepper kisses up the side of your jaw.

“Hmmm, don’t feel like being murdered by my brother right now.”  You sighed; leaning back against the wall to take him in. Lips swollen and eyes bright as he watched you.

“I don’t want to be murdered by your brother either. Worst birthday ever!” He chuckled; hands dancing across your waist. “But that was my favourite birthday gift! Thanks sweetheart!” Matty grinned; watching you push yourself off the wall and smooth yourself down before heading back towards the house.

You paused for a moment; your foot on the last step, your hand lingering on the handle to the back door for a millisecond as you looked over your shoulder one last time at Matty who was just watching you. You sent him a soft smile, your hair falling in front of your face as you laughed before leaving him the dark as you rejoined the party.

A kiss with Matty who was your big brother’s (and your) annoying friend, someone you had an innocent schoolgirl crush on once he started becoming a tiny bit cool as the lead singer in their band. Something you didn’t think was an overly big deal, after all people kiss people they shouldn’t when they’re drunk all the time. Turns out it was the starting point of the trajectory of how your’s and Matty’s story begun.

March 2013

In the midst of releasing a series of EPs and gigging around the country and building up their hardcore fanbase. You had managed to get the boys all to just relax for a moment and celebrate the release of their Music for Cars EP and the fact that it was George’s 23rd birthday this weekend. And how did you celebrate? The only way you lot knew how, a dirty ole’ house party just like the good old days.

You had managed to squeeze God knows how many people in little flat you shared with George and Matty. As far as flatmate’s go, they weren’t all that bad. You had moved in with them straight after university so you had definitely had worse.

You had just downed what you believe was your fifth vodka shot of the evening and decided you needed to pace yourself a bit more if you weren’t going to stumble into your room and pass out any time soon. So upon spotting Ross, you wondered over to your brother who was sat talking to Hann; wiggling your way in between the two of them with a giggle. Ross automatically lifting his arm for you to slip under as you nursed the rest of your wine at a slower pace until your glass was empty.

After your head stopped spinning a sufficient amount, you found yourself milling about the flat and smuggling yourself into Matty’s embrace as he poured you another glass.

“Enjoying yourself sweetheart?” 

“Mmm. Have you see the birthday boy?” You felt Matty’s lips pressed to the top of your head as you asked.

“You leaving me already?”  He chuckled. “Think he popped out the back for a cig.” 

He motioned towards the back door. You immediately unravelled yourself from him, a kiss smacked against his cheek, catching the corner of his mouth. Not that you noticed in your flurry but Matty did. The longing for the feeling of the two of you had shared in his back garden prickling at his chest as his eyes locked onto your retreating figure as you rushed through the throng of remaining people in the kitchen and exiting the flat.

Matty was right. You found George smoking out the back in your little tiny back garden under the dying glimmer of your shit security light that was attached to your back wall. Turning in your direction at the sound of the back door shutting, George automatically opened his arms for you to slot into his side, arm hung loosely over your shoulder as he let out the smoke he had just inhaled. Wordlessly placing the cig in your mouth to let you take a drag yourself, you passed it back and forth between the two of you in silence.

Stubbing the end into the brick, George dropped it into the bucket of dirty filters before breaking the silence. “God what time is it?”  He asked as you watched him push the balls of his hand into his eyes.

“Nearly 2am! Why you need to go to bed Grandad?!”

“Fucking maybe?! How many people are left?” The now blonde motioned towards the house.

“Only a few. Heard Sally talk about some of them heading into town on the way out and Luke and Helen have to be up early so they left nearly a hour ago. Just the band and about three other now. You ready to head in birthday boy?” You asked; holding out your hand for him to take with a smirk.

With a silent nod George didn’t hesitate to grab onto your hand as you tried not to trip over the many plant pots that were littered across your garden path. “You given me my birthday present yet? I can’t remember?” You turned to look at the drummer. An amused look on your face because he had given you the brightest smile when he had opened the personalised drumsticks you had gotten him earlier. “Or are you my present? Wait is this an ambush?” George gasped. “Please be an ambush!” He grinned at you.

“You should be so lucky!”  You scoffed; before shooting him a smirk as you opened the the kitchen door.

“Your tits look mega in that dress by the way!” His tone smug as he closed the kitchen door behind him. Your only response being the cackle that left your mouth as you left George to watch you walk away as you joined the rest of the band in the living room.

Lucky indeed because once the remaining guests left about twenty minutes later. You had snuck into George’s room to say good night and wish him a happy birthday and it’s how you found yourself currently with aching arms. As they were locked either side of George’s knees, his hands tight on your waist as you bounced on his cock.

You weren’t sure how long you had been in this position. You do know he had already made you cum twice though. Once on his tongue and once with his fingers but my God were you spiralling towards your third. The thick drag of his cock between your legs as he stretched you out was delicious but you needed to cum quick because you weren’t sure how long you could stay in this position for.

“Jesus Christ! So fucking good George!” You wailed; as George’s thumb swiped through the slick between your legs and rubbing at your clit.

“Feel good baby?”

“Yes. Shit! So good!” You panted. “Arms hurt though, fuck.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you.” He said; pulling you forward.

You fell forward at full speed; having to catch yourself on either side of his face to stop yourself from head butting him as his large hands moved from your hips to grab on to the globes of your ass before plowing up into your cunt so fast you saw stars dance under your eyelids. All you could do was shake and babble out a string of, “So good. So good. So good.” As George made you cum again.

Pulling out quickly. You had no time to recover as George flipped you over; face already in his pillows as he pushed back into you as he chased his own orgasm. The drag of his cock made you feel delirious at the speed in which he was fucking you back into the mattress.

“Fucking hell. You’re so good G! Yes! Yes! Yes!”  You screamed into the mattress, really not caring that your mutual best friend was on the other side of the wall.

His name fell from your lips like a chant. You hadn’t been fucked this good in forever, if at all and the fact it was your Georgie made your head spin.

“Come on baby. One more and I’ll give it to you.” He whispered in your ear, kissing the back of your shoulder before pulling you back on to his cock at rapid speed and sending you hurtling towards your fourth orgasm of the night (well morning) and George to fill you up with a satisfied groan.

Pulling out; your gentle giant rolled over, the pair of you catching your breath after fucking for a good hour. Rolling your head to the side to take him in, you pressed a kiss to the top of his shoulder with a chuckle. “Happy Birthday G!” 

The now blonde let out a loud laugh as the pair of you snuggled into each other’s arms, like you would normally do under any other circumstances as George pressed a kiss to the side of your face. The temporary bliss shielding you both from the circumstances you’d have to face in the morning.

When you did manage to wake up the next morning, George was still fast asleep but his alarm clock read 10:12 and you knew you’d have to get up to tidy the flat because Matty certainly wouldn’t. As you looked around George’s room, you scrambled to find anything to hide your dignity as you moved around to clean up. As you pulled the shirt George was wearing the night before over your bare body, you didn’t have chance to register the other voices on the other side of the bedroom door.

“Where is she? She’s not answering her phone? She’s not in her room either.”

Matty didn’t answer Ross’s question, just grumbled into his arms before flinging himself down onto the dining room table dramatically.

“What’s the matter with you? You look like shit Healy!” Hann shoved his shoulder with a laugh as he threw himself on the sofa.

“Well you’d look like shit if you didn’t get any sleep cause you could hear George fucking at all hours of the night too.” Matty snapped at the two of them.

“Who was he shagging? I thought he wasn’t seeing that blonde anymore?”

Unfortunately for you, this was when you decided to make your grand appearance. Walking out of George’s room in nothing but his shirt and your knickers from the night before. The three of them silent as they took in your appearance.

Adam’s jaw slack as he looked on in shock as everything clicked into place before his very eyes.

Matty looked pained as he ran a hand through his curls before pushing himself up off the dining room table and shuffling into the kitchen, silently flicking the kettle on.

Ross looked angry. You could see it simmering in his eyes. The vein on his neck pulsing as he starred you down.

“I’ve been trying to ring you. Why were you in George’s room? ”

“I’ve been asleep. I’m here now aren’t I? Everything alright?” You brushed past him, trying to avoid talking about the inevitable. You hated when Ross was angry.

“Why do you have George’s shirt on?”

The two of you competed in a stare off. The both of you silent. Neither of you making the next move. If there was one thing you MacDonald siblings were, it was stubborn. Adam was watching on in anticipation. The only noise to be heard was Matty shuffling around the kitchen in the background. Your brother asked you again. Why was he asking you questions he didn’t want to know the answers to.

“Don’t make me say it bro.”  You sighed; annoyance flashing across his features.

“You slept with my best friend?”  Ross immediately started raising his voice. He already knew the answer, he didn’t need your confirmation. Not that he waited for it because he was already storming towards George’s room and right on queue, the door swung open to George just in his boxers.

“Ross. Stop!”  Your voice loud and going ignored.

“YOU SLEPT WITH MY SISTER?!”  

Ross was seething. Hann was immediately by your side ready to intervene. Matty still off and away from the drama (which was very unlike him) that was about to unfold. He was unlawfully quiet but you couldn’t think about that when Ross was squaring off with George in the doorway to your rooms. The shouting sounded like you were under water as you zoned it out. This was a disaster. It was only when Hann touching your arm, whispering if they should intervene or not that brought you back to reality and had you storming right in between the two giants.

Pushing your way in between them. You stood with your back against George’s chest, a hand on your brothers and looking up at him with pleading eyes. “Ross. Please. Fighting George isn’t going to solve anything.”

“You slept. With my sister. What about fucking bro code?! Not cool dude!”

“It was me.” You shouted over the top of his booming voice, all four of them turning to look at you as you very rarely raised your voice. “It was me. I initiated it. So if you’re going to be mad at someone, shout at me because it’s my fault.”

“Babe you don’t have to defend me.” George touched your shoulder gently. “I know, we shouldn’t have done it.”

“Don’t touch her!” Ross zoned in on George’s hands upon your shoulders. He quickly lifted them up in surrender.

“George, we’re both consenting adults.” You addressed him before turning back to your brother. “I’m sorry but if you’re going to sulk about it, blame me because I started it. Ross you know I love you more than anything in this world but you can’t hate everyone that goes near me.”  You reached for his hand to give it a squeeze. “It was literally a one night stand. Promise it won’t happen again.”

Ross tried to pull his hand out of yours at your words, the vein in his neck twitching at the fucked up thought of his little sister casually sleeping around. “I’m not fucking happy about it. Fucking bro code dude.” He threw his hands up dramatically before turning towards the door. “I’m going for some fresh air.” 

Ross quickly yanked open the front door, Hann hot on his tail, muttering something about checking on him which left you with Matty and George. The three of you standing in silence for a moment before George popped a kiss on top of your head and mumbling about a cig and heading out the back.

Matty disappeared again into the kitchen as you plonked yourself down at the dining room table with a groan. The ticking of the clock the only thing to be heard as the two of you were now the only ones left in your tiny flat. Sitting down next to you, Matty didn’t say anything. Just pushed a mug of coffee towards you and sipping his own.

“You don’t hate me do you? You haven’t said anything all morning.”

Matty took a sip of his coffee, a look of contemplation on his face as his eyes flitted towards you. The silence deafening and the thought of him being upset with you made your heart ache.

“You never offered me that on my birthday.”

You blinked rapidly as you stared at him. That was it. That’s what he chose to say.

Matty tried to say it with a joking lilt to his words. A smirk hiding behind his mug of coffee as you took in his words. But he knew deep down that there was a seriousness to it. It was true, you’ve never done anything with him other than when you kissed at his 18th, on his birthday or otherwise. Apart from one drunken weekend about two weeks later. He wasn’t sure why the thought made his heart pang. But it did. You opened your mouth to respond, quickly shutting it again as a flush rushed to your cheeks as you remembered the night in his garden five birthdays ago.

You let out a shaky laugh, not knowing what to say, shoving his shoulder playfully as you settled back into your chair, steaming coffee ready to be drunk.

“I don’t, you know.” 

You turned you head to curly haired man beside you confused at what he was saying. 

“I could never hate you.”

2014

You weren’t exactly sure where you were. What state you were in. What time it was or how much you and the band had to drink or what drugs Matty had taken tonight but you were fucking exhausted. You had been following your brother and your best friends around the world for the best part of just over a year, ‘acting’ like their personal assistant. 

You were essentially a glorified baby sitter for these four man children. You wouldn’t change it for the world though, you got to travel the world with your best friends and take cool photography in the cool cities you visited but it was all catching up to you. All whilst they were busy being rockstars, some more than others but that was a different story.

You wanted nothing more than to be in the dingy little flat you shared with Matty and George in Manchester, catching up on washing, going down to your local Sainsbury’s and doing the weekly shop. Anything that didn’t require going to bed post 3am.

But you were currently in a club in Atlanta or was it Nashville? You didn’t know but what you did know was that you were bloody tired and the thought of travelling on the tour bus to the next state with a hangover was genuinely about to send you into a downward spiral if you didn’t get yourself back to the hotel asap.

Tucked neatly underneath Hann’s arm, his arm loosely hanging over your shoulder as you rested your head upon his shoulder, you prayed for your brother to round up the other two quicker than he was because you were actually asleep standing up at this point. You didn’t think it was possible to be asleep with your eyes open but you were positive at this precise moment in time it was currently happening.

Ross finally reappeared with George in tow but there was no Matty trailing behind the two of them. You groaned loudly as you clapped eyes on the two of them. Ross looked defeated, tiredness set his eyes too. George smirked when he heard your groans.

“Not the usual type of groans you make when you see me baby.”

“I’ll punch you so hard before Ross even gets the chance to if you don’t shut the fuck up Daniel's. Where’s Healy?”  You huffed, scowling at the boy in front of you.

“Mumbled something incoherent before refusing to leave.” Your brother grumbled.

“Give me two minutes.” You sent Hann a soft smile, before removing yourself from the bubble the two of you’d created at the end of the bar before pushing your way through all the sweaty bodies until you found him trying to chat up some blonde model type near the DJ booth.

Gently placing your hand around his bicep to get his attention, his curls whipped in your direction to see who was touching him. The first thing you noticed apart from the bright grin he was now sporting were his dilated pupils. So he had taken coke again, brilliant. 

The sigh that left you so deeply rooted, you’re surprised he didn’t pick up on it. You hated the way it made him feel after the high was over.

“Hi darling! Hasn’t tonight been amazing? Wait where are the others? Can you believe your brother tried to make me to go back to the hotel? How sick was the gig tonight? Do you want to dance? Hey let me introduce you to…” He spoke at a hundred miles a hour as he spewed out utter nonsense, turning to realise the blonde he was chatting up was long gone.

You watched Matty’s shoulders sag, sad eyes now back on your own. “You fancy coming back with me? I’m dead on my feet and don’t really fancy nursing this inevitable hangover whilst being stuck on the tour bus for over six hours with you lot without at least four hours of decent sleep.”

“But I don’t want to go home yet.” He pouted.

“You come with me now, I’ll let you stay in my bunk tomorrow and I won’t complain about how clingy you are. Promise!”

“Like a sleepover?!”  Matty’s face lit up again.

“If you like, yeah!” You laughed at his childlike enthusiasm.

“Come on then, let’s go right now!” He started to drag you through the crowds. “I’m sharing with Ross tonight. I think he’d rather kill himself than watch you throw yourself at me!” 

“I don’t throw myself at you.” You laughed at the frown he was pulling at you.

“It’s been known to happen Healy! I don’t mind though. My bunk tomorrow. Pinky promise.”

“Tomorrow.”  Matty sent you a soft smile; his pinky looping around your own before you started to tug him back towards the boys. “I just want to clarify, I don’t throw myself at you I just like lying on your tits is all!” He said, pulling a laugh out of you as you approached the rest of the band. Your brother already leading the troops out the club as he saw your approach, eager to get out of there and into bed.

You had currently been on the road from Atlanta to Raleigh, North Carolina for the past two hours and the hangover was showing no signs of disappearing. You had already watched half a season of The Office with Hann and had taken a half arsed nap with Ross but it was hard trying to sleep in the lounge, when your head was knocking off his shoulder every time the bus hit a pot hole.

Not to mention; if Matty made one more fucking sound, you were absolutely positive one of you was going to throw him out the window. It was a toss up between you and Hann, whoever got to him first I suppose. But he was getting on your last nerve. He was annoying at the best of times but there was something about his come down today that was irritating you to no fucking end. He so much as breathed too loudly and it was sending you spiralling into deep pit of annoyance.

You and the band were up back in the lounge area, some Adam Sandler movie playing quietly in the back ground that you were pretty sure none of them were even paying attention to. When Matty threw his phone across the bus, swearing something incoherent under his breath and it was the last straw.

Standing up abruptly, you managed to startle both Ross and Hann at the speed in which you moved. Pulling down George’s hoodie that you had stolen, so it covered more of your ass over the pair of gym shorts you had on. You turned back towards your brother and Adam, irritation etched across your features, scowling at Matty as you eyed him out of your peripheral, as he moped about next to George. 

Just the image of him, made you want to roll your eyes.

“I’m going to my bunk before I fucking throttle him!”  

You sent them both a sarcastic smile before storming off to your bunk. You can’t have been there ten minutes before your peace was interrupted by Matty who was peering around the curtain and asking if he can join you. You let out a big sigh before silently nodding your head as he lumbered on into the small space.

Immediately wrapping his arms around your waist; his head found home upon your chest just like it always did when he wanted a cuddle. Your hand that was wrapped around him made its way up to his head, where it settled in his curls, finger tips running across his scalp. The sound of his soft sighs automatically calming down the irritation that had been bubbling inside you since he had awoken this morning.

You weren’t entirely sure how long you had been lying there in silence. You only broke the silence when the coldness of Matty’s fingertips slipped underneath your hoodie to touch the warmth of your skin. His thumb rubbing circles across the softness of your hips as he snuggled further into your tits as one of his legs started pushing its way in between your own as he got comfy.

“Matty?” Your voice gentle as you tried to get his attention.

“You said you wouldn’t complain.” His voice muffled as he spoke into your covered breasts.

“Your fingers are fucking freezing that’s all.” Your chest vibrated with laughter.

“Sorry sweetheart” Matty moved the slightest bit, to kiss the underside of your chin before snuggling back into the warmth of your hoodie.

“I don’t mean to, you know?”  He whispered softly.

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t mean to make you angry.” 

His voice was barely above a whisper, that you nearly missed it.

“I’m not angry. Why would you think I’m angry at you?”

“You looked like you’d rather die than be anywhere near me before.” The hand that was weaving through his curls stopped. “I hated it. Hated that you looked at me like that. Made me feel even more shit than I already do.”

“Healy look at me.” Matty didn’t move a muscle, head still tucked underneath your chin, no effort in moving at all at your words.

“Babe. Look at me.” Your voice more stern, wiggling away from his grip so you could look down at him properly. “I could never hate you. Ever.” Your eyes flitted across his features, hardened by the late nights on tour and the hardcore partying. “I hate what that stuff does to you. I would never stop you from having fun but when you do that stuff, I hate how it makes you hate yourself the next day. I don’t want you doing something you’re going to regret because believe it or not Healy. I’m quite fond of you and I don’t think my heart could take it if something happened to you. Neither would my brother’s or Hann’s or George’s. We love you a stupid amount you know.”

Matty blinked at you as he took in your words, his brown eyes glossing over before shoving his face into you neck, the grip around your waist becoming impossibly tighter. Your body shaking as his vibrated against yours, soft sobs leaving him as he chanted; “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Over and over again.

All you could do was hold him closer and reassure him, that he had nothing to be sorry for and you were just looking out for him because anything else, you were afraid it might break you and you’d cry too. As your best friend was breaking his heart and wetting the hoodie you were wearing.

“Don’t apologise for having fun. I just want you to be careful. All I ever want is for you to be okay and sometimes what you do with all those people you don’t know isn’t good for you sweetheart.”

You squeezed him tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. As he mumbled how “I’ll be better, I promise” into your neck, pressing multiple kisses in quick succession to just under the right side of your jaw before settling back into silence where the two of stay for some time.

The soft regular movement of Matty’s thumb rubbing circles on your hip stopped, his hand significantly less colder than they were before he had them up your hoodie, moved across the expanse of your lower back and rolling you over so you were now draped over him instead and tucked into his side. 

“You know sometimes I feel the only time I might get better is when we are together. You ever feel like that?”

It was now your turn to nod silently, a soft hum leaving your mouth as you pressed a quick kiss into his skin as you settled into a slumber.

2017

You had been pottering about your flat most of the morning, doing a deep clean of the place before you were supposed to be heading to meet the boys for Sunday dinner. Your boyfriend of nearly a year Michael, once again opting out of spending time with you and your family, claiming he had better things to be doing that sitting about and listening to the boys talk about what they had been getting up to in the studio again.

Personally you think it was because George let slip last time Michael could actually be bothered to join you all for a drink, that he had slept with you in a drunken ramble, much to the dismay of your boyfriend, your brother and yourself. And Michael didn’t take too fondly to the fact you were still close with George after the confession.

You were in the middle of folding the last bit of the washing that you had dumped on your bed when your phone pinged with a text from Hann.

‘Did you get a letter in the post this week? x’

‘I get a lot of stuff in the post Ads! Off who? x’

‘Matty x’

The moment you saw his name, your heart got stuck in your throat. None of you had heard from him since he he had left, something to do with his recovery. So the thought of contact from him had you dropping your phone on the bed and rushing from your room, shouting at Michael about the post you had received this week. Only receiving a mumble from him about the fire place; had you dashing to the living room, where you rifled through the post sat on top of the mantelpiece. 

There slotted in between this months Rolling Stone subscription and a local take away menu was a white envelope addressed to you. 

A Barbados post mark sitting in the top right corner.

Dropping the rest of the mail on the coffee table, you rushed back to your bedroom, locking the door immediately before sitting at the edge of your bed and taking in Matty’s scrawl of a penmanship. Running your fingers over the ink; your mind flashed back to that day. 

The day you realised he wasn’t okay. 

How completely out of it he was as you watched him at their last festival gig of the iliwys tour cycle. How utterly miserable he looked as he threw himself about the stage, looking just the shadow of the man you knew and loved.

You knew something wasn’t right as you watched from the side of stage with their manager Jamie. George ever the professional, had even broke his concentration bubble to catch your eye several times during their festival set, worry set in his features. 

The way your gentle giant walked straight up to you, stopped in front of you and just by the look in your eyes. Your face never one to hide your emotions. George wrapped his arm around you and without a single word, the pair of you knew you had to speak to the other boys about it. You needed to talk to him.

The night of the intervention. The way he screamed and shouted at you all. He admitted to using but he didn’t do it quietly. The way Ross stepped in front of you in defence when he swore at you. Hann’s hand wrapped tightly around your own, George’s hand squeezing your shoulder in support as your brown eyes glossed over as you took in the man in front of you. He wasn’t your Matty and you hated looking at him like this. 

You didn’t want to look at him at all and it broke your heart.

Slipping your finger into the envelope you finally tore it open, slipping out several pages of paper. You weren’t sure how long you were holding them before you actually unfolded them but it felt like a lifetime of contemplating before you managed to finally take a deep breath and compose yourself enough to read his words.

‘Darling,

As part of my recovery, I’ve been tasked to write a letter to everyone I’ve hurt and yours is the last one I’ve got to write. Not because you mean the least to me. Quite the opposite. Yours has been the hardest to write. Harder than Gabby. My Mam, Dad & Louis & the boys because you mean the absolute world to me. 

This is actually the third time I’ve attempted to write this. Admitting that I’ve hurt you is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. You know what I’m like, I’m a stubborn twat at the best of times but I needed to do this because you deserve this apology probably the most.

You’ve never once judged me and the fucked up things I do when I’m on one. Since we were kids you’ve stuck by my side, defended me when I really didn’t deserve it and loved me endlessly from the sidelines and I’ve definitely not deserved your love but you gave me it anyway.

Do you remember that time we were on tour in 2014 and I was fucked up on coke for god knows how many days in a row and you couldn’t even be in the same room as me that day on the bus when I was on that god awful come down on the way to North Carolina?

Yet you still didn’t say no when I selfishly came crawling to your bunk to interrupt your peace and quiet with my tail between my legs, asking to come lie with you. You could have told me to piss off but you didn’t, you let me squish myself into your bunk and your arms and let me sleep off my hangover in your arms without complaining once. I would have complained but you didn’t, you let me and my cold hands snake their way into your personal space like I hadn’t gotten on your last nerve just ten minutes prior. 

I’m quite a selfish person. You my darling are the most selfless person I know and I don’t deserve the good grace you’ve given me time and time again. Especially seeing as I dragged you along for the ride and then you’ve had to babysit me because I can’t control myself when it comes to drugs and showing off because I want everyone to like me.

You could have taken the tough love route, told me I’m a big fuck up and judged me for my drug use and tried to get me to stop (which probably would have have had the opposite effect out of defiance) but you didn’t. You silently kept an eye on me and made sure I didn’t end up killing myself. Until I took it too far.

I’ve seen you look at me with distaste over the years. Yet nothing compares to the way you looked at me that day you guys staged your intervention. I didn’t think you guys had noticed. I thought me and Miss H had this great big secret going on and I didn’t want to let any of you guys in on it because it would ruin what we had.

Yet you know me better than anyone. You and George both just knew that day. Of course you did. You’re my best friends. But you don’t know how happy I am the four of you staged that intervention and told me I needed to get my shit together.

When I think about the way I lashed out at you. The way your big brown eyes that usually sparkle with mischief when we’re with each other, glossed over as you just stood and took it and didn’t even raise your voice at me once. I can feel the lump in my throat tighten as I write this.

I deserved it you know. I deserved whatever fury was bubbling inside you because I was a class A cunt that day! I’m truly surprised Ross didn’t knock my head off and I wouldn’t have blamed him either if he had done!

I’m just so glad you did something because the thought of losing every single one of you shatters my soul so much, I would cease to exist without you.

I could sit here and write down the list of all things I’m sorry for but physically we don’t have the time or enough paper! But you should know that I am.

I’m sorry. 

For everything.

I’m doing okay. The best I’ve been in a long time. The only way being here might get better is if you were here too.

I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I’m begging for it because the thought of you hating me and not being able to trust me anymore kills me.

You really an angel on this earth.

I don’t deserve you.

I love you.

Yours Matthew x

p.s I cannot wait to be reunited with your tits! I’ve missed them!

You let out a chortled laugh as you read through the last line of the letter. Your hands quickly making their way to your face as you wiped the tears that were streaming from your face. The cuffs of your hoodie wet from where you’ve tried to stop the flow of tears. Pressing the letter to your chest, you took a few deep breaths to try compose yourself before you left the confinements of your bedroom.

Hurriedly shoving the letter into your handbag, so there was no chance Michael could stumble across your letter. He didn’t like Matty as it was, you didn’t want to give him ammunition to say anything. You grabbed your car keys and rushed out of the house without a word to your boyfriend and heading straight to Hann’s.

2020

You had broken up with Michael.

The red flags should have been there from the start really. He always had less than nice words to say about you and your relationships with the boys. He didn’t have a lot of nice things to say in general but you were blinded by love and the man he was when you first met that you didn’t see the red flags being waved right in front of your face until your heart (and self confidence) were already broken.

Your brother didn’t like Michael, he thought there was something off about him from the off but you put it down to Ross doing his job as your big brother but his opinion didn’t waver once in the four years you were together. George never liked how possessive he was and the fact he became even more so and tried to stop you from speaking to him after he found out about your night together. Which just fyi happened three years prior to meeting him, so he (everyone) was flabbergasted as to why he was so bothered! Hann. Your sweet angel of a bestie had even voiced how he didn’t like him and he was never one to be rude which should have also been a clue you were dating a dickhead.

Then there was Matty. Matty hated him. The feelings were mutual. Michael had told you plenty of times over your four years together that he hated your best friend but he would never tell you why. Matty told you it was because ‘he was a twat who didn’t deserve you’. You were obliged to agree because that mother fucker cheated on you!

Multiple women across the last two years of your relationship. 

To say you were stunned was an understatement yet it somehow made sense and fell into place so easily when you thought about it all. Yet that didn’t make it hurt any less. But a friend of yours sending you the evidence whilst you were on the last night of the UK tour was the final nail in the coffin that was your shitty relationship with him.

You weren’t sure who wanted to kill him more. Your brother? Matty? Or George? The three of them were raging amongst one another at their after party which should have been a celebration whilst Hann sat with his arms wrapped around you as you cried to him and Carly. You didn’t think anything would make you feel better apart from getting obliterated with your favourite people and forgetting about Michael and the impending doom that was about to be bestowed upon the entire world.

Matty was your saving grace.

Asked you to move in, without even hesitating. Naturally you said yes, sitting in your flat all by yourself whilst you cried over your douchebag of an ex during lockdown did not sound appealing to you. It was giving ‘Emma Pilssbury crying to Celine Dion in her car from Glee’ and you weren’t quite ready to hit that stage of your breakup depression just yet.

Two weeks turned into two months and then four months of lockdown but quite frankly you had never been happier. Living with Matty again, surprisingly was just as good the second time round if not easier. Except this time you weren’t poor, your kitchen roof wasn’t leaking and there was a 95% less drug taking which made your life a whole lot less stressful.

It was just easy with him. At some point whilst the world stood still, Matty and Tahliah broke up and then it really just was you two; doing your washing, fighting over who’s turn it was to use their club card during the weekly shop at Tesco and raising his (both of your’s) new dog, Mayhem.

The two of you had been getting ready to move into a studio tomorrow with George after four months of just the two of you playing house, the pair of them just itching to get back to work. You were aware that Matty had been writing already but you knew it would be full steam now Notes had been released and you wanted to make use of the time you had left just the two of you.

Only because you knew as soon as you got your hands on George. That was it! Not a chance Matty was getting any attention. You had missed your big friendly giant more than anything and you knew from your FaceTime with him last night whilst you couldn’t sleep that he was more than excited to see you too.

All three of you were sunbathing in the garden. Mayhem by your side as the two of you soaked up some much needed sun. The heatwave the UK was currently in the middle of was doing wonders for your skin. You had been lying in silence for the past thirty minutes, a book covering your face to block out the sun as you tried to read. Matty’s head in your lap as you presumed he was napping when you suddenly felt him turn over in your lap, now on his side and looking up at you.

Lifting the book ever so slightly, so you could peek underneath at him, you cocked an eyebrow as he watched you with a gentle gaze. “Yes?” Your tone rich with sarcasm as you stared back at him. “Anything actually going through that pretty head of yours Healy? What you thinking about?”

“Us.”

“Us?” You laughed. “What about us?”

“You remember my eighteenth birthday?”  He asked; peering up at you with a soft smile.

“The party?” Matty nodded. “I remember Ross stopping me from getting with Max! Remember him? I was gutted!”  You laughed. “Why?”

“You know that’s not what I meant?” Matty frowned slightly as he pouted at you.

“Of course I do.” You put your book down, your hands automatically reaching for what was left of his curls,“What about it?”

“You ever think about it?”

“Sometimes. Think we’ve done a fantastic job at keeping it from my brother! Especially with your big gob!”  You smiled down at him as you ran your hand through his curls gently.

“Funny!”  He sent a glare your way, causing you to laugh loudly at his attempt to be intimidating. 

“What’s got you thinking about that kiss from a million years ago anyway?”

“Wanking material.” He somehow managed to say without cracking smile.

It was your turn to shoot him a glare at his crudeness. It wasn’t long though until he was grinning up at you from his place in your lap. You pushed his head away from you in fake annoyance. God you couldn’t stand him sometimes!

“Ohh come on darling. I hear you sometimes! We all do it, you’ve got to think of something!” Matty tried to lighten the mood.

“Yeah I think about G’s 23rd birthday.” You smirked. Your vibrator was good but it wasn’t George. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a good orgasm and thinking it might have been before Michael makes you want to cry. Your confession/kind of a joke caused the grin to fall from his face and you almost felt bad, knowing he doesn’t want to hear about the incredible night you had with George because if anyone asked him, he absolutely did not want to relive it.

“I’m joking!” Your hand reached for his curls again. “Seriously though, what’s got you reminiscing about it. It’s been a long time.”

“Just thinking about how much I love you is all.” His confession made you stop. “What would have happened if we’d said fuck it and we ended up together.”

“I don’t think Ross would have been too happy. You saw how mad he got about G!”  You laughed nervously as you thought about stopping your brother from knocking his band mate out.

“He’d have gotten over it.” Matty was now leaning up on his arms, leaning forward to press a light kiss to your bikini clad torso before pressing several kisses in quick succession up your stomach until he was hovering over your chest and looking down at your face. “If we were happy, he’d have been happy. You know he would have been.”

His actions made you hold your breath. It being strangely intimate and probably the most intimate you’d been since you were teenagers. You wondered if he was actually going to kiss you again but he just looked down at you fondly.

“You know I’d do anything for you right?”  You nodded. “You’re one of the only people who makes me truly happy.  I’d literally go too far just you have you near. I’d go blind just to see you!”

You rolled your eyes at the dramatics of his statement but the sweet sentiment made you smile, you reached up to hold the side of his face in your hands. Your thumb sweeping over the apple of his left cheek. The pair of you just basking in the warmth of the sun and each other. Unsure how long you hadn’t said anything, Matty broke the silence in the most Matty way.

“Literally anything you need. I’ve got you for life sweetheart. A cuppa? A joint? An orgasm? I’m your man!” 

A chortle left your mouth as he cheekily beamed down at you, waiting for what he knew would be a somewhat sarcastic response. He didn’t realise he’d really set himself up for what you were about to say.

“Don’t worry I’m good. I’m seeing G tomorrow!”

The way his eyes narrowed at you made you cackle even louder as he finally jumped up off you, to walk back inside without another word. “I’m sorry!”  You laughed. “I promise not to shag George when I see him. I’m good with my vibrator I promise!”  You manage to sputter out through your laughter. “Stick the kettle on whilst you’re in there love.”  You shouted after him.

Matty threw you the middle finger over his shoulder which made you laugh even more as he went though the back door, Mayhem hot on his heels; knowing fine well he was going to put the kettle on and make you a brew just how you liked it because for as long as he can remember he’s never been able to say no to you and he didn’t think he’d ever will.

2023

The 1975 in Show and Concert was possibly your favourite tour that you’d been apart of with the boys. There was an accumulative of factors; the fact you weren’t the only girl on tour this time round, Carly had joined Adam with their son and Charli had come to as many shows as her own schedule permitted. You also had a little part to play at Matthew’s request (obviously!) donned in a white lab coat, you brought Matty a hot honey and lemon on stage every night and pottered about with the rest of the crew, making sure your brother and the rest of the band were all good before slipping off to watch the rest of the show from backstage.

Or it could have been that you and Matty were closer than ever. Ever since lockdown and the pair of you had been living together, everything seemed so simple that since restrictions were lifted, you just carried on living together. I think when George removed the last box of things from your old flat to take to Matty’s did it for him, that he just shook his head with a laugh. 

“You guys really are an old married couple!” He chuckled; slamming the boot close and jumping in the car before you could get a word in edgeways.

He wasn’t wrong, you guys did essentially everything together apart from have sex. Not that you hadn’t thought about it. Somewhere between moving into the studio with him and George and then your brother and Hann joining them to start recording their fifth studio album. You hadn’t shagged anyone in over a year and there was only so many times you could use your vibrator before you got bored and there wasn’t a cat’s chance in hell you were ordering a new toy to the studio because Matty didn’t have boundaries and absolutely would have opened it before you could even get the chance to get your hands on it.

You had also promised after day one; after one too many jokes and essentially mounting George at any given moment just to have him near you that you wouldn’t sleep with him. Even though a repeat of his birthday from seven years prior was literally so so temping to you! So what the hell were you going to do? The thought of dating apps made you want to vomit and hanging about bars really didn’t seem that appealing.

But Matty being Matty; was being overly affectionate one night after one too many glasses of red after a show, had the two of you giggling like teenagers and wondering if the two of you had gotten better at kissing since Matty’s 18th. Curiosity getting the better of the both of you, had you surging towards one another in a flurry of horniness after the kiss, was how you found yourself straddling his lap and snogging him like your life depended on it! Until you physically had to pull away to get your breath back and a rush of sense flashed through your brain. The two of you went to bed separately.

Neither of you spoke about it again.

Nor did you ever think about how the two of you were always drawn to each other no matter what shit storm was going on around you until now. You were just tying up the end of the UK leg of the tour, you and the band were in Ireland and Jamie had just told you that *The Scum* were running a horrendous article about Matty. This had in turn resulted in an argument after their penultimate show between the boys. 

You knew he did things in the heat of the moment whilst he’s on stage or says shit without thinking and it comes to bite him in the arse almost every time but he’d never do what they’re accusing him of on purpose.

But seeing your brother hurt by Matty’s stupid actions; the repercussions for not just himself but for the rest of the band, your brother, yourself just by association. It was enough for you to step in, in defence of your brother. He came before everyone else, every single time.

This you didn’t realise; had as big of an effect until you were stood frozen on stage in front of your brother, Matty in between you and Ross. Apologising to him, crying in front of thousands of people. How Ross hadn’t broke the facade and took him in his arms was beyond you because your brother’s face was currently blurry to you and he was stood a foot in front of you. Tears filled your brown eyes and were threatening to spill as Matty let his vulnerable side show in front of everyone. Something he never does.

You had done so well until he apologised once more; removing his hand from Ross’s arm and reaching behind him blindly to grab on to you. The tears automatically fell; the action enough to make Ross twitch in an ache to comfort you. Something he couldn’t do until the band had come off stage at the end of consumption.

After the final song of tour; the boys usually head on out for the after party. Tonight you had Matty back at the hotel in your room on his knees and begging for you. 

Begging for you to not leave him. Begging for you not to move out. Begging for you to stay by his side. Begging for you to still love him.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked down at the man in front of you; on his knees as his hands grasped at your legs, pulling you close as he hugged you as physically close as possible as he sobbed against your legs. Instinctively you reached for his curls, running your fingers through them softly.

“Baby. Look at me.” The softness of his curls tickled your thighs as he stayed pressed against you. “Matthew. Darling look at me.” 

You managed to loosen his grip enough to slide down on to your knees in front of him, taking a hold of his face in your hands as you eyes flitted across his face, smiling softly at him as he tried to calm himself down.

“I can’t lose you. I can’t lose any of you.” He shook his head, curls flying in front of his face. “But I can’t lose you darling. I can’t.”

“Matthew. Look at me. Why do you think you’re going to lose me? You’re never going to lose me. You’re kinda stuck with me!” You laughed. “And even if I decided to fuck off, my brother being your bassist kind of means I’m stuck with you anyway.” The grip on his face got tighter as his hands reached up to hold on to your wrists.

“But last night…”

“Ross and I just want you to use your brain sometimes before you do stupid shit! You’ve not lost either of us. I promise.”

“Promise?”

Your heart jumped into your throat at the swell of tears in his eyes and his lip quiver.

“Life. That’s how long you’ve got me for Healy. Promise.” As soon as you stopped speaking; Matty threw himself at you, arms around your neck and squeezing you so tightly you nearly stopped breathing. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you” Being repeated in your ear over and over as you squeezed him back, pressing your lips to the side of his face in consecutive kisses until he abruptly pulled away. Eyes red and looking at you so softly you thought he was going to cry again.

“I love you.”

“I love you too. You know I do.” You smiled at him warmly.

“No. It’s always been you.” He said as he reached for your hands and it felt like you had been hit in the chest. The sting of tears trickling up your face and threatening to fill your eyes as you silently took him in. You went to open your mouth but nothing came out.

“I know I always talk too much but just listen to me. I love you. Since we were kids I reckon, I was just too chicken to ever do anything.  When you kissed me on my 18th birthday. When you saw I needed help,  you saved my life sending me to rehab. Every day, I thought about getting home to you.  It’s what got me through every day. You make me a better man darling. When you take my shit when I don’t deserve it. When you make me a brew in the morning just how I like it. When you roll me a joint when you realise I’m too tense and in my head without me even having to ask. When you tell me to shut the fuck up before a situation escalates. When we go to big Tesco and walk the dog or do all the washing together. I fucking live for that shit because it’s with you. Fuck I’ve been writing songs about you for the past decade! You are intertwined with every era of this band sweetheart. I mean 60% of the last album is about you! ” He chuckled softly.

“What?” Managed to escape you in a gasp.

“Come on sweetheart. Some of this music has literally been out for ten years!”

“I - Just never - Why have you never said anything before now?” Your voice horse with frustration.

“I love your brother too much. But thinking I’d lost the two of you, just made me think fuck it. You deserve to know. You need to know.” Matty shrugged casually.

“That’s stupid.” Your deadpan tone, stunning him silent.

“Sorry?”

“Wasn’t it you that said to me that if Ross knew I was happy. That we were happy he wouldn’t care. He’d have gotten over it? And you’ve just subliminally been telling me you love me through music this entire time?”

“Yes?” 

You cocked an eyebrow at his hesitation, the questioning tone as your eyes flit across his handsome features. Cheeks tinged with pink due to his tears, his chest falling up and down rapidly at his confession as he awaited you answer. You still didn’t say anything, thinking about how to respond until you found the perfect response.

Surging forward you pushed your lips against Matty’s. Hands reaching for the curls you loved so much. Waiting for him to reciprocate felt like a life time but your Matthew was well equipped in the art of kissing you back so realistically it was 0.2 seconds after he had gotten over the shock.

You kissed him over and over again, not wanting to stop the feeling of how your lips moved against his, how his tongue felt against yours. You felt like you were on fire, he was intoxicating. He always was but fuck was he more than ever. Finally finding the strength to untangle yourself from him, chests heaving as you both got oxygen back in your lungs you said the words, the way he’d been wishing to hear for the past sixteen years.

“I love you too.”

When he was finally seen in public two days later on the eve of their Gorilla gig in Manchester. The fans noticed Matty was in higher spirits than he had been two days prior when his breakdown was caught on camera. You had been nervous to tell your brother but Ross claimed he already knew Matty was in love with you, he was just waiting to see if he’d actually grow some balls or not! Then he hugged you so tightly and whispered he was happy for the both of you, which in turn had you and Matty crying backstage in their green room as you found yourself in a 1975 sandwich! 

You don’t think you had seen Matty look so happy on stage in a long time. He loved touring but it was gruelling but seeing him on stage in this tiny venue with his best friends and his girl watching and waiting for him side stage. He couldn’t stop beaming. The fans noticed, the comments already flying in online about him. They increased tenfold when he jumped offstage, not waiting the ten second walk backstage before kissing you like his life depended on it.

The blurry picture of Matty holding your jaw in his hands as he kissed you in the shadows of the stage was on a 1975 update account within minutes.

Captioned: If you know you know. Finally 🖤

You were obliged to agree.

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