#Adam Hann drabble

[alovesreading]

Nice Kind Of Messy

Summary: Your friends set you up on a blind date, one that you aren't really looking forward to at all but when you find George Daniel there waiting outside the restaurant, there is no doubt it'll be a date to remember.

Word Count: 16.7k 

Warnings: smut.

A/N: So I wrote this as part of my Alex series but I figured I should turn it into a one shot so my George girlies could read it without having to commit to a long Alex Turner fic lol It took me a while to get it ready on one shot form but I hope you enjoy now that it's here hehehe xx

Masterlist

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You wake up that morning quite nervous. Your excitement makes you shiver in anticipation but the feeling brushes the line of anxiety and it’s rather overwhelming.

You’ve not been really looking to date lately, there hasn’t been any type of enthusiasm when hinted about putting yourself out there again since you got cheated on by your ex boyfriend. You couldn’t be arsed about it—the whole process of actively trying to look for a person that you felt was right and suited what you at least felt was the bare minimum was exhausting just to think about.

Going out with your friends was almost always a failed mission. They tried to get you out on the pull with them but you ended up straying back to the table and waving them goodbye when they came back with someone hanging from their arm, winking at them as if to wish them a good night.

They had only been lucky to send you off with someone a handful of times, but despite their best efforts to push you to pursue those who you had spent a night with, you had left them as that: a one night stand.

So they had used a new method this time, which entailed the fact that they had apparently been scheming about behind your back for a few weeks. You had only found out when you were having a wine night with them over at your flat, your jaw dropping and brows furrowing when they let you know they had made a reservation at a certain restaurant in Covent Garden so that you could meet up with someone they swore was the perfect match for you.

“It’s a blind date, we can’t tell you,” said one of your friends with a wicked grin on her face, sipping on her wine as you took the time to glare at your other two friends sitting on your settee.

They only offered you gallic shrugs and giggles, bubbly and high pitched which unfortunately managed to tug at the corners of your lips until they formed a smile.

A happy, “You’re excited then?” made you realize what you were doing, so you took a gulp of your wine and shook your head in disagreement as you swallowed.

“No, I’m just confused.” You really were, it was worse you didn’t have a clue who it could be because there wasn’t really anyone you think had shown interest towards you that you all knew. “Am I allowed to back out?”

You hoped you could, even if a meal at a restaurant you had been dying to go to for ages paid by one of them was on the cards here, but you were truly wary about throwing yourself into a situation where you actually had to put yourself in the dating mindset.

As you cursed your stupid cheating scum of an ex for ruining the prospect of dating for you, your friends shook their heads and said, “No.” in unison.

And they unfortunately went on to explain how your date knew about it already and had cleared their schedule for it to happen, and since you were an awful people pleaser, you sighed in defeat and agreed to go.

So there you are, slowly making your way to your kitchen to make yourself breakfast, despite the nerves making your stomach flip constantly and making you nauseous. Slowly you eat, slowly you wash your dishes and put them away.

You do everything slowly that day, taking a long shower and lounging in bed, still in your robe and letting your hair air dry. The date wasn’t until four so you still had time, and you figured if you went about it at a steady pace, then by the time you were fully ready you would have to leave and there wouldn’t really be a long space of time for you to bail out at the last minute.

By the time it hits noon, you’re doing your hair. Straightening it and curling the ends leisurely, humming along the music you’re playing on your speakers which is interrupted by a call.

“Good afternoon Miss Y/L/N, are you ready for today?” One of your friends greets you with a chipper tone in her voice, you could practically see the beaming smile on her face just from her voice.

Biting on your bottom lip, you let the phone rest on your lap as you continue with the next section of hair and shyly admit, “I’m actually nervous…”

The way she coos at you makes you roll your eyes but there’s a wave of consolation that comes over you when she says, “Good but also don’t be. He’s an absolute dream.”

The tiny piece of information actually makes you more curious about who he is, so you try your chances again as you ask, “Are you finally gonna tell me who it is?”

You had been trying all week to get anything out of your friends but they had been surprisingly good at keeping this one secret under a lock. And this time wouldn’t be different since you only get a vague, “All you have to know is that he’s fit and I know you’ll get on with him perfectly well.”

At least the reassurance that you and him would get on well eases your nerves a little. Not as much as you would like though, but that’s because you know yourself and when you first meet anyone, you get shy and a bit awkward, so you’re praying that you'll be able to get a bit of courage not to make a fool out of yourself.

Thankfully your friend stays on the phone with you as you finish doing your hair and you actually facetime her when you’re doing your makeup. She keeps making you laugh throughout it all and somehow makes you forget about how tense you had been for a bit.

Her boyfriend, Matty, comes back to her flat from a meeting right as you’re showing your friend the dress you’re wearing for the date and, to her dismay, he almost slips and tells you who it is that you’re seeing in merely an hour from now.

“Matthew!” She exclaims loudly before the name can fall from his lips and he quickly throws his hand over his mouth with wide eyes.

His honest, “I’m so sorry.” sounds muffled behind his hand and it only gets an eye roll from your friend which makes you laugh.

But you are gutted that your only chance to find out is gone that way. You whine as you complain, “Why do you react so quickly?”

Your friend takes her boyfriend’s close mishap as a sign to let you go though, completely ignoring your complaint to remind you, “You’re gonna have to get faster Miss, it’s quarter past three and it’s a twenty five minute walk over there.”

“Shit, right.” You curse under your breath, realizing you need to get dressed already and leave as soon as you can so you aren't late.

“You look fucking stunning, babe.” She states with confidence, reassuring you since you seem to start growing panicky, “I’m gonna leave you now so you can change but you have the best time Y/N/N, alright?”

You purse your lips at the camera and clutch your chest, “Thanks hun, love you.”

She grins sweetly at you and reciprocates, “Love you too. And let me know how it goes, alright?”

“Will do, but I don’t promise anything too interesting.” You make sure to make that point clear, you don’t have much expectations for the date just so you don’t end up feeling defeated for it not meeting whatever you could imagine it to be if you allowed yourself to.

But your friend is in heavy doubt of it not being interesting considering she knows who you are meeting with. So she shrugs as she smirks, “Yeah, well… We shall see about that.”

It’s the way that she looks like she’s trying not to laugh that has you narrowing your eyes at her, “What?”

Question that isn’t answered because she plays dumb and simply says, “Okay byeee! Love you!” loudly, blowing you a kiss before hanging up the phone.

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You walk the best you can in your high heeled boots which were not a great pick when mixed with how nervous you are and how far you had to walk. You had debated getting a taxi when you were locking up your flat but decided against it when you realized that if you did, you’d get there quicker and you wanted to stall as much as you could.

You aren’t even late yet, ten minutes left for the clocks to strike four in the afternoon and you are merely five minutes away. The whole walk, you had been practicing in your head whatever you could say to the guy you were meeting with, just to prevent embarrassing yourself. If anything went wrong though, you had brought your camera with you and a few rolls were stuffed in your pocket so that you could at least take the opportunity to take pictures.

In your head, you had gone from any topics you could come up with about yourself, deciding against being the one to mention your tragic love life and picking a few questions that could be interesting to ask your date.

But all the inquiries and words you had been rehearsing die in your throat when you round the corner at the end of the restaurant’s street and you see the tall dirty blonde smoking a cigarette, leaning on a lamppost right by the entrance of the establishment.

You think of making a run back to your building, hesitating which way would be easiest to go and how it would work with your long dress but his eyes fall on you before you can make up your mind and when he smiles sweetly at you, cigarette perched between his lips, you know it’s too late.

On your face a shy smile breaks and you give him a little wave before approaching him, faking confidence as you get closer until he’s only a few feet away so you say, “Oh hi, I wasn’t expecting you.”

Your face is burning up and you know he can see your flustered demeanor because he smirks down at you, and cheekily asks, “Were you hoping for someone else?”

Looking up at him through your lashes, you smile harder at his playfulness and in a rush of bravery you choose to play along, “Do you really want to know the answer?”

He takes a drag of his cigarette and lets the smoke out steadily as he shakes his head, “I’m just hoping you remember my name.”

And how could you forget, “Of course I remember you, George.”

George hums, taking one last drag of his smoke as he takes in your appearance and he’s grinning mischievously when seeing the dark satin and lace of your dress contrasting on your skin, your leather jacket making you look even more stunning and coincidentally matching the one he’s wearing.

“Glad you haven’t, Y/N.” The drummer replies with a wink, dropping the bud on the ground and stepping on it before taking something out of the pocket of his dark jeans, “Y/F/N sent this for you.”

An involuntary “Oh.” falls from your lips, entirely intrigued by what it can be that your friend had wanted to tell you that couldn’t be said on the phone because George hands you a folded piece of paper that only says Y/N/N x on the front.

You carefully open it, trying your best to avoid George seeing it—which is a bit of an issue since he’s so tall he can easily read if he looks down—and you instantly blush harder when you read Get the nice kind of messy ;) x

A flashback of the moment at Glastonbury when you had been gawking at George and you had let slip how fit you found him comes to the forefront of your mind and you can’t help yourself getting a little flustered at the mere thought of it.

“He’s fit as fuck.” Your eyes are unable to move from his figure, the way his muscles contract and define with every hit of the drums and the facial expressions he makes as he plays.

Your friend snorts in laughter and leans in to ask further, “Oh, so you fancy George then?”

You stutter as you try to come up with a response, “I mean… Look at him!” You’re entirely entranced by it all and it doesn’t help that he’s covered in a thin coat of sweat already, only three songs into their set, so his white top is slowly becoming translucent and sticking to his body.

It’s like your brain is shutting down and all that it can register is the look of the drummer because it takes you a few long seconds to realize your friend has teasingly said, “I’ll make sure to relay that message.”

“Oh, no, don’t.” The panic of that happening is the one thing that helps you snap out of your trance.

You watch as your friend’s face contorts in confusion and she fights your answer, “Why?! You need to get back out there and who better than George?”

But you shake your head, “No, that’d be so messy!” You can’t think of anything worse than trying to get with your friend’s boyfriend’s best friend—you cringe just imagining how that going wrong would cause a horrendous change in the group’s dynamic.

All of your worries come to a halt and you choke on your own spit when your friend smirks as her eyes fall on George, “That’d be messy, alright. The nice kind of messy.”

In an attempt to try and play it cool, you fold the note and shove it in one of the pockets of your leather jacket, clearing your throat, adjusting the strap of your camera on your shoulder and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear like it’s all fine and normal.

But George can see the way you’re pursing your lips and how you hid the note so hastily so your behavior completely betrays your attempts to be secretive about it. “What did you say?” He kept his promise that he wouldn’t open the note when Matty gave it to him earlier that day, even though he’s been really tempted too, especially when he realized Matty knew what it said because he was giggling when his girlfriend handed it to him.

You don’t give him an answer though, only a little cough that acts as a coverup of you avoiding his gaze and a subtle shrug, “Just a little joke.”

“Can you share?” He tries further, his hand coming to nudge you softly in the arm.

Not even that helps your answer change. You shake your head and say a shy, “Not really.”

“I see how it is.” George narrows his eyes at you and adds, “S’alright, I’ll remember that.” which is a promise that has you biting your tongue.

“Shall we go inside?” The drummer says then, watching you struggling to come up with a response to his previous statement.

The new question is much easier to reply to, a soft “Yes.” falling from your lips, breathlessly.

And he takes your breath even more when he lets you walk ahead, only to rest his hand on your lower back delicately and casually comment, “You look beautiful by the way. Really like that we’re matching with the leather jackets.”

The opportunity to not acknowledge the compliment is perfect because you feel like you’re going to explode under George’s attention. You giggle and nod, “What a great coincidence huh?”

His answer being, “Hot coincidence.” accompanied by a wink doesn’t make it easy for you though and you find out then that being on a date with George Daniel means blushing every five minutes even if the chat is about mundane topics.

You talk about your hometowns and the differences between your upbringings, how different it was that you’d stayed in the same city for your entire life while he lived moving around for a good part of his childhood until his family settled in Manchester. You tell each other how you had ended up doing what you were doing currently and you end up cooing constantly when George tells you how the guys became friends and how the band had come together. You exchange stories about your jobs, finally having the opportunity to ask all that came to your mind about producing music which you had always found fascinating ever since you’d gotten closer to the band. George being fascinated about your knowledge on films and everything to do with photography and cinematography, which really comes with your job as a photographer and videographer.

Then he asks about your hand tattoo—the ‘Pure Desire’ written on the back of your hand is rather enticing—smirking when he rubs his thumb over it and asks if you have any more which ends up in you both sharing the amount of ink you have on your bodies which George beat you to by an incredible amount. You end up taking your jackets off and showing each other each piece you have on your skin.

Eventually, the chat comes back to the band and you ask him whereabouts The 1975 has toured so far. Your jaw drops the more his list continues and you genuinely have a hard time wrapping your head around them being relatively new to the mainstream scene when they are already going to all those places.

“I don’t even remember the last time I went on holiday, fucking hell.” You chuckle out in awe at the information he’s just given you.

And George turns your innocent amusement into a mess of heated cheeks, pressed lips and eye rolls when he suggests how that could be easily fixed, “We just have to take you on tour with us next time, don’t we?”

“Think it’ll be crowded enough now that Matty is taking Y/F/N with him.” Your eyebrows are raised to accentuate how serious you are trying to be about it, it’s so hard to conceal how flustered you are at his insinuation.

But he makes it difficult for you to play it cool when he shrugs, “We can share a bunk then.”

“You’re such a flirt. Bet you say that to all the girls.” It almost sounds like you’re scolding him and he likes seeing the reactions he can get out of you, but there’s one thing that has been constant in the back of his mind and he decides to bring it up.

Taking his glass up to his lips, he takes a sip and gulps softly to start saying, “Surprised me when Y/F/N called me and asked if I wanted to go on a date with you.”

“God, that’s embarrassing.” You wince at the information, hating the way it looks for your friends to be asking people around if they want to go out with you. It makes you want to crawl out of your skin and die in a ditch.

George smirks playfully, “Going on a date with me?”

You laugh in response to that, shaking your head before clearing up, “Y/F/N asking if you wanted to go out with me. You know you could’ve said no.”

He frowns at you, like you’ve just said the most outrageous thing and he wholeheartedly asks, “But why would I?”

“Oh George, stop it.” You warn him, pursing your lips and narrowing your eyes at him.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” George reaches his hand out to touch yours and you almost shiver under it.

You let your fork down beside your plate and fan yourself with your hand as you admit, “You’re making me blush.”

But that’s not something that will keep him quiet, because he confesses, “Yeah and I quite enjoy doing it.”

The rest of the date is spent between good food, good wine, laughter, a picture you take of George when he asks about your camera, and chatter that has been really entertaining and entirely not awkward like you’d been expecting. Getting to know George in a deeper way is like a breath of fresh air and that’s why, when you leave the restaurant and the drummer offers to walk you back home, you don’t even hesitate to accept.

He takes a few detours on the way, taking you around places where he had hilarious and very wholesome stories of his childhood and teenage years when he would come around to London with the lads and other friends just to mess about. You’re so grateful for the anecdotes because you’re making sure to capture each place in its unique beauty and you know now that behind each shot you’d have the memory of what George had shared with you.

George watches you closely every time you take a picture, taking in every little thing you do before and after you press the shutter. You’re so adorable to him, the way your face lights up when you press the shutter and look at him excitedly when you roll the film.

You guide the both of you back to the way to your flat and as you walk, you’re smoking cigarettes and chatting. It’s so easy to carry a conversation with George, he exudes such an energy that just makes you feel free talking about whatever comes to your mind without having to think for a split second about what you should say or shouldn’t.

And just as easy comes laughter, because not only is his laugh hilariously contagious, he is funny himself and he has you struggling to catch your breath multiple times at his quips and comments.

There is something about this evening that you just feel the need to remember as best as you can so he catches you sneakily trying to take candids of him, every time he’s called you out on it and you shamelessly lie about the frame being focused on just what was behind him—every time something mundane and boring—but by the fifth time, instead of calling you out and have you grumpily change the focus of your lenses, he allows you to take a picture of him and even smiles for you; he doesn’t miss how your eyes twinkle after you’ve pressed the shutter.

The way you smile to yourself and proudly state, “I’m really gonna like that one.” makes George’s chest swell and in a lack of any more self control, he stops dead in his tracks and turns to you, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you into him, your chest hitting his chest eliciting a gasp to fall from your lips.

“Oh hi.” You giggle at the sudden action, your hands subconsciously resting on his chest after that, but any other words die in your throat when he dips his head and traps your lips with his.

You hum into the kiss, which is a dizzying combination between sweet and determined. His left arm stays wrapped around your waist, pulling your flush into his chest but the other one comes up to cup your jaw and he keeps you at the perfect angle for him to kiss you just how he wants.

Your arms slowly move up until they are wrapped around the back of his neck and you let your fingers tangle in his hair. It’s soft and long on the top of his head which you really like. His tongue brushes against your bottom lip, his fingers clutching your tighter and you let your mouth open so you can taste each other.

You completely forget where you are until someone walks past you and whistles at the two of you, startling you out of the kiss. You really enjoyed that kiss, and it shows in the way you look up at George with burning cheeks and something written on your face.

“I liked that.” George cheekily states, getting ahold of your hand and resuming your walk.

You hum, trying not to giggle when he intertwines your fingers and a feeling you can easily recognize starts bubbling inside you. “Yeah, I liked that too.”

You felt like a teenager. Blushing to yourself while you walked hand in hand with the person you had a crush on, and it’s so ridiculous but so relieving at the same time to feel this kind of pathetic elation instead of despair and heartache for once.

Your conversation resumed from whichever point you last remember it being left at but after that kiss it only gets more and more flirty, and you like where it is going but soon enough you reach your building and you have to slowly come to a stop with a pout.

“This is me.” You mumble, squeezing his hand in yours but he doesn’t let go.

He hums as if hesitant of believing what you’ve just said and instead he suggests, “Don’t you wanna take another walk around the block?”

“George, my feet hurt.” They had been hurting for a while but you hadn’t said anything just to not ruin things, and because you were enjoying his company so much that you were willing to endure the pain for a while longer.

The drummer comes to a quick solution, “I’ll carry you.”

Which makes you chuckle, “Sure you would.” You genuinely don’t want the date to end so in a bit of a rushed decision, you bargain, “Don’t you… Do you wanna come upstairs?”

He gets a kick of excitement inside him but he wants to play it cool, so he jokes, “What, are you gonna take my picture?”

You hold back a snort of laughter, and shrug as if it was fine by you that he only wanted that. “If that’s what you want.” There’s a little voice in your head that tells you not to but there is another one that purely encourages you to have fun.

“Yeah, that works.” George casually says, like he isn’t praying that he gets lucky to even get another kiss out of you.

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“Where’d you want me?” George turns to look at you as you drop your camera on your bedside tables and take your jacket off to perch on the back of a loveseat you have in the corner of your room.

You take one of the new rolls out of your pocket and change it for the one you’d almost fully used earlier that day. “Wherever you’re comfortable.” you tell him, focusing on perfectly lining the roll before you can turn to him.

“Bed’s quite comfy.'' You hear George say from behind you and when you look up to see him, you find him lying on his side, head perched on his hand and a smirk on his face. “Paint me like one of your french girls.” He teases, resting his other hand dramatically on his forehead.

All you do is giggle at his antics, “You’re such an idiot.” Shaking your head, you come up to the bed and try looking at the scene through your lenses but you aren't quite convinced by the shot.

George watches you struggle, stepping backwards and forwards, to the sides before sighing. He reminds you with a soft smile, “I’m not used to being the one to pose for the camera. You’re gonna have to guide me.”

“Okay.” Silently, you think about it as you bite on your thumb and once a vision comes to your mind, you start instructing him, “Lean into your forearms, sideways so you fit in the bed.” But you find what’s bothering you and it’s that his legs are half hanging off the bed.

“Why are you so tall? Oh my god.” You go over to the drummer and prompt him to go further into the bed, perching one of his sock-clad feet up on the bed and the other leg staying stretched on the bed. “There, now look at me.”

George looks at you with a blank face first to which you complain about but when he actually shows you a smile he starts giggling, and if there had been something you had learned about George quite early into your date was that his laugh was incredibly contagious, so you find yourself shaking with laughter as you try to take his pictures and you end up having to call him out for it.

“Don’t laugh! You’re making me laugh!” You scorn him, struggling to sound serious between your giggles.

“Sorry, sorry.” He apologizes halfheartedly, swallowing his laughter until he goes back to a stoic face and he gives you the perfect soft smolder.

You hum in satisfaction at the result of that frame and then you move onto instructing him to do the next pose, “Throw your head back a bit and close your eyes.” He silently listens and does as you say which earns him a sweet, “Just like that.” from you.

Of course, your words make George give you a look, one that had you lightly blushing and since you know he can recognize the way you get flustered, you hide behind your camera.

“What?” You say behind the device, inquiry thrown out into the air, and warn him, “Don’t look at me like that.”

George chuckles to himself, wondering if you are this naive or if you are playing dumb. So when you take another picture of him, he purposely complains, “My leg’s cramping.” to then throw himself back on the bed, ending up completely splayed over the duvet and breaking the pose.

“George!” You scold him yet again, a bit of amusement sneaking through your words.

He groans in response and without moving, tells you to “Just take a picture like this.”

You kiss your teeth to exaggerate your disapproval and shake your head, “I can’t even see your face.”

“Come here so you can see it.” He resolves easily for you, waving you over to come close to the side of the bed instead of taking pictures by the end of it. You roll your eyes at him in amusement, not moving at first but since he actually doesn’t plan on moving, you have to do as he says.

But attempting to get a picture from above while standing beside the bed is an actual failure, “That’s an awkward angle, look at me.” You try to get him to turn to his side again but he closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Need you on your side.” You say explicitly this time but he doesn’t let up either.

Instead he suggests, “Why don’t you just get up here?” He pats the bed, right next to his hip and you blush just thinking about it. At your silence, he opens his eyes and turns his head to the side to encourage you with a “C’mon.”

He offers his hand so you can use it as leverage to kneel on the bed on each side of his hips and hover above him. You struggle as you do so because you’re growing nervous and therefore clumsy.

“Fucking hell, George.” You curse under your breath, seeing him from above is an angle that you don’t really know if you can handle.

“What?” George bites his bottom lip to not let a smirk break on his face.

Yet, not even that keeps you from knowing that he knows just what he was doing but you won’t say anything, because you’re enjoying this a lot more than you are supposed to. So you stick to just replying, “Nothing.” as you take yet another picture of him.

Remembering his tattoos, you bit your bottom lip for a few seconds before hesitatingly asking, “Why don’t you take your jacket off?”

George lets his hands rest right above your knees and squeezes your legs as he teases, “Is that code for something?”

You hoped your flustered state wasn’t obvious so you can play off your nonchalant, “For ‘I want to see your tattoos’, yes.”

It goes right over his head though, because he keeps smirking as he sarcastically replies, “Right, right.”

You move so he can take the piece of clothing off without you hovering over him but when he’s done and laying on the bed again, he pats his right side so you can move your left leg there and have you hover over him properly again.

“How’s that look?” He asks cheekily as his hands go to touch your legs again, the skin up to your mid thighs showing because your dress slit allows it to open and rise up in the position you’re in.

“Amazing.” You breathlessly compliment, making him raise an eyebrow at you.

The shutter goes off again and, as you roll the film, he tests the waters, “Do you want to see them all?”

“Sure.” The word comes out so soft it could’ve gone with the wind, his hands leave your thighs for a second to grab the bottom of his shirt.

“Top’s coming off next then, is that alright?” He asks for confirmation first and you nod eagerly, your pupils dilating in anticipation.

He sheds himself off his shirt in the constricted space he had, you’re so spaced out that you don’t move but it isn’t a problem for George. If anything, his smirk grows at your inability to act and it gets bigger when he throws his shirt somewhere across the room and you’re left shamelessly gawking at his naked top half.

After a minute of your eyes wandering everywhere, George brings your back to reality by letting his hands come over your thighs again. You tremble at the same time as the drummer says, “Y/N/N?”

“Yeah?” You ask, slowly coming back to reality. Your brain has been completely taken over by the view of the taut muscles of his arms littered by colorful ink, a pair of symmetric ‘broken’ tattoos on both sides of his collarbones and his torso beautifully chiseled with a defined six pack.

“When are you taking the picture?” He reminds you, trying not to smirk too hard as to not put you off.

“Shit, sorry.” You say under your breath and, after quickly focusing the shot, finally take a picture of him like that.

There was a heavy silence that hung over you two, the trail of his fingers making your skin grow hot and your throat going dry at the growing need for anything at all. So you find yourself surprised when he breaks the silence to ask you, “Can I take your picture?”

“Mine?” You repeated like you’d heard wrong.

George nods and lets you know, “You look really pretty from here.”

In a feeble attempt not to have him do that, you remind him, “You don’t know how to.”

“Matty had a film camera a few years ago, I know how to.” George surprises you even further when he explains and just to try a bit harder, he pouts at you and says, almost begging, “Please?”

“Okay.” You let yourself accept, your mind too distracted by the view beneath you to even fight.

Once you hand him the camera, he lifts it up to his eyes and lets out a chipper, “Smile.” as an instruction, which you follow only just a bit shyly.

You’re about to get the device back from him when he pulls it away from your grasp and pleads, “Another one please?”

You sigh at the drummer’s exaggerated pout until it turns into a giggle and that’s when the shutter goes off. Your cheeks burn again when he compliments as he rolls the film, “Stunning.”

Letting the camera rest beside him, George tries his luck and lets his hands rub on the skin of your thighs a bit further up. You don’t refuse it, he can clearly see the growing hunger in your eyes as you look down at him so he continues, letting his gaze trail down your body to drink in all of your but when he reaches down to your legs is when he catches a slight glimpse of red ink on your left thigh that makes him ask, “Do you have more tattoos?”

He doesn’t remember your mentioning any other tattoos than the ones you’d shown him at the restaurant. So when you nod, he can’t help but ask, “Where?”

“One, right here.” You grab his right hand so he can touch over the fabric of your dress where the one on your rib is. Your eyes looking right into his and his lips opening further when you continue, “And this one here.” lifting the fabric up to show the ‘Divine Feminine’ tattoo on your thigh.

George lets his right hand fall until it reaches the one on your thigh, you’re still clutching the satin in your first so he can fully see it. He rubs on the red ink on your skin as he stares at it, eliciting goosebumps to break on your entire body.

He looks up and asks with a low voice about the only one he hasn’t seen yet but you had just let him touch over your dress, “What’s the other one?”

“A word.” You vaguely say, as if encouraging him to continue asking about it.

“Which word?” His fingers trail further up, making your knees go completely weak. They had been hurting from hovering over him for so long but his touch is the thing to finally have you finally sit on his lap.

And that’s when you feel him growing hard in his jeans.

His fingers had already been making your every thought go straight down to your core so you’re entirely driven by lust when you fully lift the satin up and shed the dress off your body, leaving you only in your underwear and in full show for George.

It’s involuntary, his hips jerking forward and pressing on your center, his mouth agape at the sight and he grows even more breathless when you roll your center against his hardening cock.

“Fuck.” He curses under his breath, taking one quick look at the strange word on your rib before perching himself up on his left forearm to wrap his right hand around your neck and pull you in for a hungry kiss.

You lean further into him, one arm wrapping around his shoulders and digging into his hair to pull on it as your lips move with each other. Your fingers tugging on his hair made him groan into your mouth and, as payback, he tightens his fingers around your neck, earning a loud moan out of you.

George pushes himself up with his left hand until he’s sitting on the bed, his right arm wrapping around your waist to keep you flush against him. Your tongues taste each other and your breaths grow heavy when you start rolling your hips in sync, meeting in the middle and creating a delicious friction that soon enough forces you to break the kiss only to gasp in pleasure into each other's mouths.

His fingers come to graze the ink on your left rib, your desperate side having you sink your hips down to roll against him and turn his, “What does it mean?” into a gorgeous moan.

Your lips brush as he moans and you respond to his sound with a mewl of your own and when that reaches his ears, George forgets ever asking anything for he can’t wait any longer to feel your lips on his again.

The kiss grows needy then. His hand goes from your ribs down to knead the flesh of your ass, fingers harshly digging into your skin and encouraging you to move against him. Your clit was getting so stimulated from only being covered by the thin material of your lace thong against his jeans which means you can’t kiss him any longer.

A string of moans falls from you as you quicken your pace, getting louder as you go but your actions are interrupted when George clutches you tightly by your middle and swiftly flips the two of you around so it you’re resting on your back on the bed with him hovering right over you.

Your breath hitches in your throat at the sudden change of positions, your hand flying to cup his face and bring his lips back on yours and wrapping your legs around his waist to pull his hips into your core in a desperate attempt to have the friction back.

The feeling of his hard on coming down to rub harshly against you every time he bucks his hips forward makes your head spin. He starts off by teasing you with the friction and leaving you hanging for a few seconds before going back in but when you start gasping into his mouth, he keeps himself close to you and relentlessly rolls his hips on yours, hard cock pressing deliciously against your throbbing clit.

The pace grows faster, making it impossible for you to continue moving your lips with his so he takes it as a sign to continue on with what he wants to do first. Unfortunately, that means his hips stop moving and leave you throbbing and clenching around nothing but he makes it up to you with his lips all over your skin.

Wet kisses trail down your neck, his lips taking their time to give every bit of your skin attention on the way down. Kissing, sucking, licking. His fingers run down your sides until they clutch tightly on your hips, fingers pressing hard on the skin there and making your cry out in pleasure even louder.

Your breath is heavy by the time he stops sucking bruises all over your chest and abdomen, your fingers tangling in his hair and tugging on it so he can come back up but instead his tongue runs flat from just above your belly button agonizingly slowly up until his nose bumps against the hem of your bra.

George looks up at you through his lashes, teeth coming to bite on the fabric and tugging them the slightest bit down so you know what he wants to do and you desperately nod.

Without much of a proper attempt to take the piece of clothing off, he just tugs down the lace cups on it and lets your tits spill out freely for him. He groans from the pits of his chest at the sight, hips bucking forwards into the mattress harshly in search of some relief for himself.

But not letting any more seconds go by, George dives to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. Groaning around it, the vibrations of the noise causing white heat to run straight down to your throbbing wet cunt.

He switches the sucking for flicking it with his tongue, blowing cold air and smirking as your nipple hardens at his actions, ending with a soft bite and tug that have you loudly saying his name in call for mercy.

You needed something, anything. You can feel yourself clenching around nothing and it’s almost torturous. But your cries fall on deaf ears for he moves onto your other nipple and repeats his process. You’re only ruining your underwear further, so wet you feel uncomfortably sticky with your thong still on.

“George, baby, please–” You plead in anguish when he starts sucking bruises on your tits, biting them until you whimper loudly under him.

“What do you need Y/N/N?” He asks sweetly, a stark contrast to his vicious attack on your chest.

“Anything. Just–” You try to say, your words catching up in your throat as your desperation for release clouds your logic and makes you sound stupid.

So you rely on grabbing one of his hands from your hips and guiding it down to where you’re aching. The simple graze of one of his fingertips on your swollen clit eliciting a pathetic mewl out of you.

“Oh sweetheart,” George tuts “Made quite a mess, haven’t you?” His pointer finger runs up and down your clothed core slowly and so faintly you don’t even know if you are imagining it.

Applying a bit more pressure assures him to hear every one of your needy sounds and feeling like you had waited enough, he leaves a light feather kiss over your center.

“Need help cleaning up this mess, yeah?” His words are sweet, like he’s finally taking pity on you. The thought of him doing absolutely anything at that moment sounds so fucking good your hum in agreement sounds more like a whine, barely able to make eye contact with him in your hazy mind.

His long tongue runs flat over your underwear, wetting even more than it already is and he moans at the taste of your slick soaking through it. His fingers tug the fabric down your legs and throw it somewhere behind him in record time. He finds himself almost drooling at the sight of you completely exposed to him.

If you had any hint of inhibitions left in you, you would’ve tried to close your legs under his attentive gaze but he’s entranced and you’d had it with waiting any longer so you prop your legs wide open and squirm in your place.

“George, please.”

Your pleading is so sweet, so desperate, he can’t deny you any longer. So he dips his head in between your legs and starts lapping at you like a starved man. At the first proper taste he has of you, he moans loudly, tongue running up and down your slit to gather as much of you as he can and enjoying every drop of your arousal on his tongue.

“Are you not gonna continue taking my picture?” George interrupts his task to tauntingly ask, going back to using his tongue on you, this time flicking it up and down quickly on your clit and making you shiver.

Your words are caught in your throat when he doesn’t relent his actions but still looks at you expectantly through his lashes, “Right– F-fuck! Right now?”

He only allows himself to stop for the amount of seconds it takes him to nod and say, “Yes baby, be a good girl and take my picture.”

That ‘good girl’ makes you roll your eyes in utter pleasure, and all you can think of is doing as he’s telling you to earn his praise; because you want more, you need more.

Your head turns quickly to see where he’s left the camera, and you bring it to your eyes to take a picture as fast as you can. Your thoughts are already becoming clouded by the tightening coil in your lower belly.

His disheveled dirty blonde hair in between your legs, his arms underneath your legs and hands clutching your thighs in place is all that you captured in that frame. The shutter goes off letting George know you have done as he’d said and he congratulates you by praising you with a proud, “Such a good fucking girl.” and a few kisses to your clit which make you jolt.

He goes back down, trying to clean up the mess of slick and saliva that’s dripping down your inner thighs and onto the duvet, but you’re so desperate so you start rocking your hips against his face, trying to steer him back to where you wanted him to be and, to your satisfaction, he follows the silent instruction by going back to your center and this time pointing his tongue and dipping it inside your sopping hole.

Your legs instinctively close around his head, eliciting a breathy laugh from him that hits your core as he continues tongue fucking you. His hands come to spread your legs open again, holding your limbs down on the bed strongly, not allowing you to move any longer.

The feeling of his wet tongue dipping in and out of you has you growing increasingly louder, begging and pleading with him not to stop, your orgasm so close you can feel it.

But despite your words, he stops.

At that very moment, you swear you can cry, knowing you had just been about to come undone on his tongue. But just before you can pathetically let your frustrated tears roll down your cheeks, his lips wrap around your throbbing clit and he sucks on it. The perfect amount of pressure for you to thrash around beneath him as your pleasure resumes and hits you with an incredible force, making you let out a string of moans of his name and then a bunch of “Yes! Fuck yes!”, hands flying down to tangle your fingers in his hair and keep him in his place.

“I’m gonna cum!” You yell out loud, eyes shutting tightly since the pleasure impedes you from keeping them open, and when George starts humming as he sucks your clit, you are done for.

Your legs tremble under his hold, toes curling and your fingers tugging his hair tighter than you had been before. You black out as your orgasm hits you hard, the oxygen in your lungs leaving you entirely as your back arches off the bed and you only come back from your high when his incessant sucking becomes too much for your oversensitive self so you pull him away from you.

He giggles, completely entranced by your fucked out state. Watching you cum had been an experience but god don’t you look beautiful with your chest heaving, bruises looming on your skin, a flush to your face and chest, a thin coat of sweat making your body and face shine.

But before he can give you any more attention, his gaze falls back to your cunt and it’s glistening with arousal. You taste so fucking good to him that he wastes no more time to lick you clean. Your legs tremble at the resumed contact of his tongue on your sensitive core, whimpers stubbornly leaving you as he goes.

Your fingers leave his hair alone but your left hand cradles his head as he laps up at everything you have given him, and after a whole minute of him meticulously licking clean every inch of skin that had been wet with your arousal, he starts a trail of kisses from your mound until he reaches your belly button.

Flashing a smile up at you, George rests his chin on your lower stomach and you can’t hold yourself back from brushing his messy hair back almost adoringly, post orgasm haze making you extra appreciative of him and his skilled tongue work.

His fingers rub circles on the top of your thighs, “Feel good?” He asks before leaving more soft kisses on your lower stomach.

“Very.” You answered with a smile, fingers brushing through his hair.

He hums at the feeling of your touch, “Good to know, gorgeous.”

Turning to see where you’d left it, you reach out to grab your discarded camera. Melting into the duvet under George’s gentle touch and his lips pressing on your skin leisurely, you really make an effort as you lean on your forearms so that you can get a better look at him to take a picture. He looks up at you with a dizzying smirk that you manage to capture, and you know that you’ll adore that picture no matter the outcome of this day.

His lips tickle the skin of your lower stomach when he points out, “Didn’t even have to tell you this time.”

Putting the device back down on the bed, you shrug with a grin sneaking onto your lips, “You look good.”

“Do I, now?” He teases, dropping his hands from your thighs and pressing them on the mattress so he can slowly push himself up and crawl his way up to hover over you again.

“You always do.” Your words come laced with lust, his eyes darkening as he gets closer and you just can’t wait any longer to have him in more ways. “Come here.” You instruct by wrapping a hand around his neck, fingers pressing on the sides of it until he groans loudly in pleasure and when he lets the sound leave his lips, you smirk and warn, “My turn.”

Pulling him in by his neck means that your tongues meet instantly when you start the kiss, and when you taste yourself on his tongue, you moan so loudly George growls just as loud in response.

The kiss is all teeth clashing, spit dribbling down to your chins, noses bumping, deep exhales sounding loudly and trying to overpower the sounds of your swollen lips moving together.

It’s George the one to grow louder when your hand drops from his neck, down his naked torso to the button of his jeans, which you undo with quick fingers and pull the zip down before you can palm him over the fabric of his boxers.

“F-fuck…” He lets out when your nimble fingers squeeze him and stroke him up and down. He’s so hard that your touch makes him shiver.

You can feel him so swollen and heavy under your hand, your mind already spinning about how big he is but you want to have him unravel under you so badly, you push any worries about his size to the back of your head.

His hips move slowly, helping with your movements, clearly wanting to reach his high but you want to taste him and you want it now. So you leave his cock alone to instruct him, “Lay down, baby.”

You switch positions, George laying on his back and you’re kneeling between his legs. He pants as he watches you shamelessly gawk at him, your mouth going dry at the clear outline of his cock.

“Fucking hell, George.” You curse as you tug on the top of his jeans so he can lift his hips up for you to take them off him.

He does as instructed and you’re just too impatient to wait any more, you want to feel him heavy on your tongue already. His boxers come off quickly after his jeans, his hard cock springing up to touch right by his navel.

You gulp. He’s thick, angry red tip already leaking from how aroused he is. Intimidating but so inviting.

Dipping your head down, you start kissing his hips. Leaving kisses that go from sweet to wet and messy the more he squirmed under you.

“You…” George pleads, hand coming down to cradle your head. Not to push it towards where he wanted you but to have you look up at him and see just how fucking desperate he is for you.

You feel that look go down straight to your core, clenching your legs together at the feeling. “I know baby, I know.” You say in a coo.

Your fingers wrap around him, the pressure of them making George huff in pleasure with his lips pressed together. He feels so heavy in your hand, veins popping for you to see how pained he is.

“You’re so big.” You trail off, a bit of wander in your voice. You have no idea how he’s going to fit in your mouth, he’s by far the biggest cock you have ever come across but you like a challenge.

Your tongue licks a bold strip from base to tip, eyes rolling to the back of your head when you taste the salty arousal that has already been leaking from him. He curses under his breath at the feeling of your wet tongue on his cock, but the breathy words turn into a loud moan when you wrap your lips around him and sink your mouth down onto him.

Barely able to fit half of him in your mouth until he hits the back of your throat, you pull back to catch a breath, your hand taking over for a few seconds as you inhale deeply and go back in. You gag around him when you manage to get him deeper, George moans loudly as you do so, trying his hardest not to buck his hips upwards into your tight throat.

His hand goes back to hold your head but this time, his fingers tangle in your hair, only to pull you up so you can breathe. But you don’t want to have it easy, you want to see how much of him you can take and hear every one of his pretty moans.

So you go against his hold, sinking your mouth further down and gagging around him again. Your hand stays at the base of his cock, stroking the rest you can’t get to, as you continue bobbing your head up and down on him.

George is a mess of groans and moans, whimpering whenever you gag and moan around him, your throat tightening around him driving him insane.

He lifts his head up slightly to look down at you, pulling on your hair so you come off him and meet his eyes. George is met with you panting, pink wet swollen lips, saliva dripping down your chin and neck, tears falling out of the corner of your eyes, hair disheveled but pupils dilated and a satisfied smirk at it all.

Your hand keep stroking him up and down, fingers applying the perfect amount of pressure and he moans at the combination of your touch and the glorious view of you like this, “Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect.”

The praise only encourages you more, so you lean back down and lick a strip up his cock again, this time looking up at him through your lashes. An innocent look in your eyes as you lap at the tip of his cock eagerly.

He exhales in awe, “Look at you– Shit!” He curses loudly when you sink slowly back down until again he reaches your throat, his hips bucking upwards involuntarily and making you gag loudly.

You gasp out for air for a mere second before you do it again, until you manage to control your gagging a bit better and encourage George to fuck your mouth with a simple squeeze to his hip.

“Oh fuck– Such a pretty filthy girl.” He praises as he obeys the silent instructions and rocks his hips forwards slowly and ever so slightly. “You like it when I fuck your throat?” His question is thrown out into the air in between groans.

You answer with a hum that vibrates around him and that’s when George starts feeling like he’s losing control. His hips grow erratic and you notice so you hum and moan around him even more, causing him to get closer to his high.

“Y/N/N m’gonna cum!” He warns you loudly, the wet squelching sounds of him going in and out of your mouth and your moans bouncing off the walls in a pornographic symphony that makes the scene even better.

And when your hand drops from around the base of his cock to play with his balls, he’s sent over the edge. He pushes his hips forwards and stills then as he comes, cock twitching in your mouth and his cum coating the walls of your throat with a warmth you appreciated with another low moan.

His hips fall back on the bed but you don’t relent just yet, sucking him off for a little longer to take everything you can. But he has to pull you off him by your hair when he can't take it anymore, cursing and calling out your name like he was scolding you.

“Fucking hell.” He mumbles, still dizzy from his orgasm but completely entranced by the way you come off him with a whimper and a satisfied smirk.

You wipe the drool off your chin with the back of your hand and slowly crawl up until you are laying on your side right beside him, staring right into his eyes with hunger still darkening yours.

“Feel good?” You ask, just what he’d asked you after he made you cum but in a mocking manner.

It gets you a chuckle in response before one of his big hands comes to cup your jaw and crashes your lips together.

Kissing George has you dazed. His lips are soft but firm when moving along with yours, they’re wet and swollen, warm exhales leaving his parted lips for your to swallow, tongue peeking through them to meet yours. He whimpers so loud when he tastes himself on your tongue, fingers digging into your cheek and making you mewl in response.

Your skin grows hot the more you kiss. He doesn’t even let you get a proper breath whenever he pulls back for a brief second, because he’s back on your mouth with desperation—lips smacking and tongues licking at each other.

Your hands go on a path from his face to his head, the back of his neck, his shoulders, and eventually to his back, nails digging into it when he starts nipping at your bottom lip, at the same time as his right hand drops from your jaw down to pinch your nipples, eliciting gasps out of you.

“George…” You let out in a gasp when he has your nipple pinched and twisted between his thumb and index finger.

He’s smirking right over your parted lips, amused at the way you shiver every time he goes from one nipple to the other. Your nails claw at his back when you feel the electric shocks that his touch gives you travel all the way down to your center, feeling yourself growing wetter and that familiar knot in your lower stomach forming.

His lips slot between yours again, distracting you from his touch going from your tits down to tease your cunt.

With his thumb, George starts rubbing circles on your clit, making you pull back from the kiss with a loud gasp that turns into a cry of pleasure. You could feel yourself throbbing already, and it gets worse when he picks up his pace.

He isn’t going too fast but not slow either, the speed in which his thumb rubs at your clit has you writhing your hips in response, subconsciously trying your best to get closer and closer to your high.

“George! Fuck!” You yell when he slides a finger inside you. It’s thick and long, curling inside you and making you see stars already, half lidded eyes catching him smirking at you and his breaths growing shallow when taking in your reactions.

“You like that?” He asks you teasingly, pecking your lips as your face scrunches up in pleasure.

You manage to hum in response, but he finds that not good enough, so he adds another finger, stretching you out easily and making your back arch as you moan loudly. “Yes! Yes!” You encourage, and when he curls his fingers again, knuckle deep inside your cunt, you felt yourself be completely overcome by pleasure and your words slip past your lips without even thinking of them first, “Oh my– Fuck! George, your fingers feel so fucking good.”

His fingers are slipping in and out of you with ease from how wet you are, your hips erratically moving as he thrusts them inside you to meet him in the middle. “That’s it, cum on them baby.”

The dirty talk has you completely fucked over, “George, I’m so– Fuckkkk!” You can’t help but scream out when he pushes a third finger inside you, feeling completely stuffed with him.

It feels so good how much he’s opening you up, and he’s loving the way whenever he pulls his fingers back your walls push him off so he has to slowly sink his fingers deep inside your cunt again. “I know, I can feel you clenching hard around them.” You’re squeezing his fingers so tight, his throat goes dry just thinking about how good you’re gonna feel milking his cock, “Can’t wait to fill you up and feel how tight you’re around my cock baby.”

You agree, so drunk in pleasure you just want to feel even more of him, “I need you. George, I need–”

But he tuts before you can complete your mumbled sentence, “You’re cumming on my fingers first.” You’re about to cry out like a brat, about to beg for him to stuff you up with his big cock but his words beat yours, “Come on baby, give it to me like the good girl you are.”

His voice is low in your ear, so sultry and inviting you feel it deep in your core and you just can’t say no. Not when you’re gonna earn his praise, those words he says that have you wrapped around his little finger.

So you let go. Your toes curl as his fingers keep pumping in and out of you, hitting that spot perfectly for your to see stars as you come, white heat enveloping you and taking ahold of your entire body as you cum, “Fuck, fuck! Oh– George!”

“That’s it, baby. So fucking stunning.” He encourages, watching his fingers continue to disappear inside your tightening cunt, your legs shaking and your hips moving clumsily to meet his hand. He gets impossibly hard at the sight of it all, biting his bottom lip as he moans.

You gush all over him, slick drenching his hand and dripping down your cunt onto the duvet. He can’t let it go to waste, so he pulls his fingers out and sucks them clean, moaning around them when he tastes you again.

So fucking sweet. He needed more.

You feel his fingers gathering your mess and you manage to peel your eyes open to watch as he sucks it all off his fingers again.

Shamelessly, you just watch as he dips down time and time again until he deems his work of cleaning you up done, the last one being offered out to you and you obey enthusiastically, wrapping your lips around his fingers and sinking your mouth on them to suck them clean the best you can. Your eyes stay on his as you do so, moaning loudly around them while you batted your lashes at him, just fully putting a show on for him.

The view makes George’s cock twitch, a bead of precum leaking from his head. He reaches out behind you for the forgotten camera and when you’re trying to catch your breath, eyes closed in bliss, he takes a picture of you.

Your eyes snap open at the sound of the shutter going off and you look at him all startled like you need an explanation.

“You’re so beautiful like this.” He quickly justifies, lifting the device back up to his eyes and adjusting the focus to take another one as he adds, “All fucked out. Fucking gorgeous.”

“Stop.” You whine when the shutter goes off again, hand coming up to grab at the lenses and forcing him to put it down, “I must look a mess.”

His head shakes in disagreement, tongue swiping at his bottom lip with his eyes drinking you in all over again, “You don’t. You look hot.” Skin glowing due to the thin layer of sweat your activities have caused, lips swollen and wet, your chest heaving and flushed, the gorgeous pattern of every bruise he’s sucked on your skin which are darkening more and more, hair disheveled and splayed over the pillows.

“I’m confiscating this.” It’s the brief ultimatum you give him, grabbing the camera and turning the action on him instead.

You take just one picture of him and he allows it, only to then complain by saying, “You have enough of me.” and taking the camera back.

Rolling your eyes, you fake being annoyed and kiss him quickly before pushing yourself up and off the bed, telling him, “Gonna go to the bathroom.” making a beeline for your wardrobe and getting yourself a new pair of underwear first, adjusting the cups of your bra so they hold your breasts again.

It isn’t longer than five minutes that you take, coming back to him wearing his boxers again and laying over the bedsheets—he’s discarded the duvet and left it a big crumpled knot on the floor by the foot of the bed—, a hand behind his head whilst the other is scrolling on his phone.

His position looks inviting, so you crawl on the bed and sit on his lap with a mischievous smile on your face. You reach out to get the camera he has placed on the bedside table at the same time as he drops his phone there and his hands go up to hold your hips.

“Put your hands behind your head again.” You instruct him softly, almost a mutter that sounds so shy, the corner of his lips tug into a smirk.

You take a picture of him like that and another when he runs a hand through his hair but you stop when his hands come back to grab at your skin, going from your waist until they softly come down to rest at your hips.

With a soft squeeze on your sides, he tilts his head to ask, “Am I allowed to smoke?” to which you nod and get off him to open the windows and get him a cigarette and a lighter.

Getting back on top of him, you place the cigarette between his lips but before you can give him the lighter, you grab the camera again just so you can capture the moment he ignites it alive.

George looks so fucking hot lighting it up: cheeks hollowing ever so slightly, brows furrowing, long fingers that make the lighter look minuscule in his hand, lips pursed around the stick.

You snap away and capture the moment he blows out the smoke upwards, before taking another drag and then blowing it in your direction.

The familiar scent of the tobacco and just how arousing you’re finding it all, impulses you to start moving your hips slowly on him. The sudden movement makes his breath hitch in his throat, causing him to erupt in coughs when the smoke goes up the wrong hole. He had been half hard beneath you when you sat on his lap, so you can’t really hold back from wanting to have him in a new way now.

That’s when you guide his hand to your mouth so he can place the cigarette in between your lips for you to take a drag. His mouth opens agape as you do so, the rolling of your hips only growing more intent and he starts twitching and getting harder in his boxers.

He can feel your heat, the way you’re wetting your underwear and starting to wet his own, the pulsing of your swollen clit. He can see how your nipples grow hard through the lace of your bra, and the way goosebumps rise in your skin as you go. Soft gasps that turn into hush whimpers that he wants so badly to turn into those loud moans of yours that he’s quite enjoying getting drunk on.

“Have you brought a condom?” You ask breathlessly, camera being once again forgotten somewhere on the bed for you to be able to rest your hands on his chest as leverage.

A flip switches inside George, the simple hint of him finally being able to sink himself deep inside you making his blood rush down to his cock.

“Yeah.” He nods eagerly and it’s a relief when you quickly get off him so he can rush to get it, not without going up to your dresser so he can put out the cigarette on the ashtray that’s laid there by your jewelry.

He had thought it was foolish of him to pocket a couple condoms before he left his flat earlier today, fully scorning himself for being so ridiculous as to assume you would want to shag after your date but oh was he glad he had still done it right then.

Condom in hand, George goes back to the bed but not without shedding himself off his boxers first. You bite your bottom lip as you get your bra off to throw it on the floor behind you, seeing him wrap his hand around his length and pump it slowly as he watches you almost naked figure. Your hands go down to your hips so you can quickly tug down your underwear, eagerly taking it off and throwing it on the same spot on the floor you had dropped your bra.

Crawling up to the edge of the bed, you hum as you watch him stroke himself up and down, your mouth watering for another taste of him. So when you get right in front of him, you dip your head down until your mouth is right before his hardening cock and sticking your tongue out, you lick at his head slowly.

He grows heavier on your tongue as you go, twitching in your mouth when you wrap your lips around him again, his head thrown back at the feeling of your wet mouth enclosed around him and sucking him off patiently.

But he has to use an incredible amount of self restraint to pull you off him, a hand delicately coming around your neck to have you let go off his cock with a pop and pull you up to face him.

“I’m fucking you now.”

George isn’t asking, he’s simply informing you and that makes you squirm under his gaze in anticipation. Thighs pressing together and eyes drinking in the way lust makes his behavior change. But you want a bit of control, even if it’s just for him to ruin you.

“Can I ride you?” You ask innocently, puppy eyes that you pray will get your a yes.

You take the way he pulls you in for a messy kiss as one.

In no time he’s laying on his back with his head resting on the pillows, teeth ripping the condom wrapper open while your hand wraps around him, waiting for him to put the latex on. The anticipation grows and hangs in the air like a heavy cloud as George rolls it down his length, sighing at the feeling of it around him.

You catch a glimpse of your camera through the corner of your eye and you can’t help but think there won’t be a better thing than capturing his pure ecstasy in a picture so you grab it before you straddle him again.

You lift the camera up to your eyes with one hand while the other gets ahold of his cock to line him up, rubbing his head on your clit and making yourself gasp at the feeling. You clench around nothing as you do so, and you can already feel yourself drenched.

Even after he’s stretched you out with his fingers, it’s slightly challenging for you to take him when you start sinking onto him.

Your jaw drops in a silent gasp when every inch of him starts stretching you out, eyes watering at the initial sting. Your eyes want to flutter closed at the feeling but you do your best to not let them close entirely so you can capture the way he groans loudly with his head thrown back as you let your cunt swallow him whole.

Breath hitching in your throat, you sink down completely until you can feel him so deep a pathetic cry of pleasure slips past your lips.

You draw your hips up and back down on him slowly, testing the waters on his size and what angle is good for you to feel the best. You’re both a mess of loud moans at the feeling. He’s so big, he’s filling you up in a way you’ve never felt before so your walls are clenching hard around him which has his head spinning.

“You–” George breathes out, hands flying to your hips and clutching them so tightly just to show how bad he’s holding himself back from just thrusting up into you, or better yet just flipping you around and fucking you into the mattress.

“Fuck–, I know. I know.” You say in a high pitch tone. One of your hands falls to rest flat on his chest and use as support, “I– oh, fuck…” You curse as you roll your hips forwards and then backwards this time, making you completely still at the insane sensory overdrive you’re getting from it.

George knows you need a second or two but you stay frozen for longer than he can hold so he pleads, “Baby– Fuck, baby, I need you to move, you’re so tight.”

“Just–” You try to say, rolling your hips again and mewling loudly. George moans back in response, his hands sliding down to your thighs as your head hangs in pleasure.

You establish a slow place, George’s fingers digging into the flesh of your upper thighs grounding you into the moment and allowing you to take another picture. A picture that captures your legs on each sides of his toned chest, his fingers digging into your skin, his adam’s apple bobbing as he gulps back a moan, the box tattoo on his thumb right next to the red ink of your ‘Divine Feminine’ tattoo on your thigh.

But after you press the shutter on that one, barely being able to clumsily roll the film, you just toss the camera to the side mindlessly and use your new free hand to rest on his chest as well, and the second hand of support helps you start moving your hips faster.

It’s fucking delicious the way he keeps hitting your g-spot from that angle, and when he starts bucking his hips upwards, meeting your in the middle, you can’t hold back the noises you let out. “George, fuck baby! Oh fuckkkk.” You cry out, clit feeling a bit of pressure every time you roll down and hit your pelvis, so you’re fully drunk on pleasure.

His hands run up from your thighs to mercilessly grab your ass, fingers harshly digging into your skin and stinging just in the best way. “Just like that baby. You feel so fucking good.” He praises you with a groan, helping you actually lift your hips up and down on him.

“You’re so– Oh fuck–” You’re so cock drunk, your thoughts are all stupid and leaving you without even being able to finish a sentence.

“Tight little cunt, can barely fit inside you.” George can feel himself meeting the hilt inside you every time, your cries growing in volume the faster the pace gets. “You love it huh, being filled to the brim?”

“Yes, fuck! Yes, I love it, love your cock!” You’re dripping all over him, the noise of the wetness and your skin slapping every time you meet bouncing off the walls and, combined with your moans, makes for a pornographic scene you wish you were recording.

“I know you can go faster. Can you do that for me, baby?” George genuinely can feel himself not lasting any longer with how tight you’re squeezing him.

“I can, I can.” You promise desperately, wanting to be good for him. So you pick up your pace, your hands moving ever so slightly so you can straighten up a bit and when you do so you curse out loud at the new angle, “Ah fuck!”

Your hips grow erratic, your knees helping now when you bounce up and down his cock ever so more intently, enough for you to incessantly gasp in a high pitch every time he hits that spot.

“Such a good girl for me.” His hands stop groping your ass to spank you, making you jolt forward with a loud gasp that turns into a mewl and a whine that tries to pass as a ‘yes’. His cock twitches inside you at that reaction so he does it again and again, feeling your walls flutter around him with every hit, “You're squeezing me so fucking tight, baby. Gonna cum all over my cock?”

“Yeah, yes…” You gasp, and if you hadn’t been so adamant on chasing your high, you would’ve noticed George quickly getting the camera and snapping a picture of you riding him. Hair a mess covering up your face but your mouth wide open in a moan, tits bouncing as you ride him, hands on his chest as support.

He’s just about managed to put the camera back down when he feels you squeezing him the tightest and that’s when you finally cum. “George! George! Ge–” You cry out his name like a prayer until it breaks down into a loud moan that tips him over the edge along with your cunt milking him dry into the condom as you sloppily continue to ride him.

“Fuck! Y/N!” George moans loudly, his hands going to your ass again to help you continue as he cums, his cock twitching the more he spurts into the condom, sweet relief making him see stars.

Unable to uphold yourself any longer, you collapse over him, chests heaving in sync as you both come down from your highs. It’s hard catching your breaths when your skin burns from the heat and sticks from the sweat. And George knows you’re rather uncomfortable from the way you groan into him, your fingers lazily trying to brush the hair out of your face but huffing as it sticks to your sweaty forehead.

He brushes your hair back, fingers delicately grazing your face and earning a soft smile and a sigh from you. But then his hold goes down to your hips so he can lift you up and off himself to set you beside him. You whine and pout at the loss of him, feeling so empty after he’s stuffed you to the brim.

You don’t even try to open your eyes, completely spent from your activities and snuggling into the pillows to find some comfort in your post orgasm haze.

George sits up on the edge of your bed and sheds himself off the condom, tying it so he can throw it away, and groaning as he pushes himself off the bed to make his way to the bathroom.

He takes about five minutes there and when he comes back into the room, he smiles, finding a sleepy you struggling to keep your eyes open and smirking at him. He giggles as he walks up to bed and after taking your camera and placing it on one of the bedside tables, he carries your bridal style to take you to the bathroom.

Yes you’re still on cloud nine after that orgasm but you still have a bit of sense in you then so, after thanking him with a kiss, you tell George you’re alright from there and he can wait for you in bed.

You only realize what you’d said as you wash your hands after peeing and you’re cringing just thinking about him being gone once you go back into the room. But you find that he hasn’t left and instead, he’s gone under the bedsheets and is waiting for you to cuddle up to him so you can get some rest.

You giggle like a fool when you get under the sheets and he hooks his arm around your waist to push you flush against him, your back pressed to his chest and he nuzzles into your neck from behind. Your legs tangle together and your breaths sync and slow down as the minutes go by until you succumb to their slumber.

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It’s bright outside when you wake up with the horrendous need to go to the bathroom, one that you’d been sleepily ignoring for a while but that had become too unbearable to endure anymore.

George has his hand around your waist and his leg thrown over yours, effectively keeping you trapped in his hold in bed, so you try to very slowly peel yourself away from him to escape to the toilet.

You’re careful so that you don’t wake him up just yet, but when you manage to get your legs untangled from his, he stirs and grumbles, “Where are you trying to go?” throwing his leg over yours again, his arm wrapping tighter around your waist making you chuckle.

“Bathroom.” You mumble as you try to get away again but he’s stubbornly holding you even tighter to him.

You feel him shake his head as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, a soft “No.” falling in your ears that makes you sigh.

“George.” You say softly to not disrupt the silence in the room, but he doesn’t reply so you try again a little louder this time, “George.” Once again, no response, so you end up whining, “Babyyyy.”

To the nickname he does listen, but his response is just a muttered, “Mhm?”

You turn around in his arms with a bit of struggle, cupping his face and pecking his lips a handful of times so he takes it as enough bribery to listen to you, “Please let me go. I’ll just be a minute.”

George steals one last long peck from you before smiling loopily and nodding, “Okay.”

He lazily retracts his limbs to let you get up freely from the bed, and though he’s fighting his sleep, he manages to peel his eyes open for long enough to watch your naked figure walk away from the bed and into your ensuite.

Keeping track of time is impossible to him when his eyes close again after you leave his line of sight, and he only opens his eyes again when he hears you giggle softly at the sight of him in your bed as you walk back to bed.

“You took longer than a minute.” He points out with his eyes still closed.

You snort and half heartedly apologize, “Sorry, I’m sore.”

His hand comes up to rub at his eyes, and when he does so, he sees the state in which you’ve come back so he frowns and tells you to, “Stop right there.” He sounds so serious, an amused smirk shows on your face because you have no idea what he’s about to say. An accusing finger waves in the air in your direction and he calls you out, “Why are you wearing a robe?”

“Shut up.” You say instantly when hearing that’s what is making him frown, your eyes rolling playfully at him.

“Get that off now.” He instructs but you take another step towards the bed with no intention of taking it off and he grumbles, “Y/N/N…” with a more stern tone that makes you too flustered for this time of day.

“You’re annoying.” You complain with a roll of your eyes, still listening to him and slowly undoing the knot that kept your robe closed, making it a little show as you open it up and let it fall off your body and pool at your feet on the floor.

Of course, George smirks at the sight and he has no shame in looking you up and down with hunger now shining on his sleepy eyes, his cock twitches just by seeing you naked in front of him again. Fuck, you’re stunning.

“Come here gorgeous.” The drummer invites you back into his arms and you don't have to be told twice for you to go back to bed and be the little spoon for him. You’d had such good sleep being completely enveloped in him, heavy limbs acting like a weighted blanket on you and it was utter bliss.

But after seeing you naked again, skin littered with love bites he had left all over your, hair messy and tits perky and bouncing as you walked, George feels the need to show you a bit more of the appreciation he had shown you the day before.

His hand brushes your hair to the side so he can have access to the skin on the back of your neck. Goosebumps breaking on the skin there when he starts pressing open mouthed kisses on it, fingers ghostly running down your back and stopping right on your lower back that had your back arching into him. Your ass grazed his cock every time, making it twitch and start to harden.

In search of friction, he pushes his hips forward and you reciprocate by pressing your ass against him. He keeps his actions going and sets a pace that the two of you keep up, mewling out loud when his hardening cock comes in contact with your cunt, “Hmm, George.”

“Yes, baby?” His lips brush against your skin, a shiver running down your spine and making you shudder, “You’re so fucking beautiful, please let me make you feel good.”

“Yeah…” You nod quickly, it’s a no-brainer. Your breath gets caught in your throat when he pushes his hips forwards again at the same time as you do and the tip of his cock presses on your clit.

“Yes?” He moans in your ear, hand coming around your front to play with your tits, “Can I make you cum again, sweetheart?”

You eagerly nod, swallowing a moan as he pinches your nipple and when he cup your whole tit with one hand, kneading it harshly, your “Please.” came out in the form of a whine.

“Good girl. M’gonna make you feel so good baby, I promise.” His hand continues playing with your tits as you keep grinding on each other. When his cock is hard enough, you feel it come up to rest heavily between his lower stomach and your lower back, and it’s then that he lets his fingers trail down until they hover over your mound and he breathlessly asks, “D’you trust me?”

“Yeah, George…” You’re basically pleading with him to continue, hand coming to clutch his and guide his fingers down to your soaked cunt and when he feels just how wet you are, he groans and pulls away.

“Wait.” George instructs you, leaving you alone on the bed to get a condom. You hear the wrapper rip and him moaning as he puts the condom on, stroking himself up and down a few times before he tugs the sheets off you and turns you from your side to your front so you’re face down and he can hover over you from behind.

His knees are on either side of your hips, forearms pressed on the mattress next to your shoulders and he kisses and sucks all over your back as he praises you for how gorgeous you are over and over.

He keeps bruising you up until you push your ass up and beg him to do something, the ache in your cunt too unbearable.

So George lets go of the patch of skin he’s bruising and does as you ask for, spreading your legs open as he kneels in between them and rubs his tip up and down your slit.

“Don’t tease, please.” You cry into the mattress, your cunt fluttering around nothing and it’s painful knowing just how good he felt inside you but he isn’t allowing you to feel it yet.

But then he just let himself slowly slip inside you and his jaw falls at your tightness in that angle, “Oh Y/N/N… Fuck me.” He feels like he can barely fit in, but you’re dripping with slick so it makes it a bit easier for him to slowly bottom out.

“George–” You choke out, head turning to the side to catch a glimpse of him. Your fingers clawing at the sheets beside your head for dear life.

“I know. You’re so tight.” He whimpers in pleasure, barely able to move an inch out of you because you’re so snug it feels like you’re pushing him out.

“Move baby, please.” You beg again and he starts going then, a slow pace at first that grows in speed rather quickly and has your cursing out loud, “Fuckkkkk!”

He gasps into your ear with every thrust, and it’s soon that the sound of your skin slapping drowns the room along with your moans. “Gonna miss this tight little cunt so much.” He says into your neck, sucking a bruise on the back of it before asking, “Gonna miss me too?”

“Ye– Yes! Oh shit baby!” You gasp when he hooks his left arm under your leg, pulling it upwards slowly and allowing you to stretch a bit more so you feel him even deeper, “Gonna miss you so much!”

He chuckles smugly, “I know you will.”

“Oh fuck!” You curse as he hits your g-spot perfectly from that angle, his hips hitting your ass and reminding you of how sore the skin there is from the spanking he gave you the night before. “Yes, yes! Don’t stop, please!”

“If you could only see yourself right now!” He curses under his breath when he looks down to see himself disappear into your cunt, over and over. If he keeps looking at how he keeps sliding in and out of you so easily, he will burst right then so he looks back up to your face and praises you once more, “Taking me so well, baby. You’re such a good girl.”

“Harder, please.” You ask in a whine, and he stills for just a second to get a better standing on his knees before giving it to you like you were begging to, making you instantly get even louder when he hits that sweet spot with more intensity, “Oh my– Fuck! Right there, yes!”

“Just like that, yeah?” His smirk grows on his face, feeling how it keeps getting easier to slide inside you which means you’re fucking drenched and dripping all over him, your walls fluttering around him already making him see stars.

“Yes! Yes!” You chant like a broken record, the coil in your lower stomach tightening by the second and threatening to snap at any moment, “I’m so close!”

His left arm lifts your leg even higher and then leaves it there to be able to bring his fingers down to rub at your clit and send you over the edge, “C’mon baby, cum for me sweetheart!” He encourages you as he rubs fast circles on your throbbing clit, which earns him choked out moans that turn into a throat ripping moan of, “F-fuckkkk! George!”

George feels you squeeze him so tightly as you cum, making it so much harder for him to continue thrusting in and out without losing the rhythm he’s set, he can’t hold it any longer, his hips stuttering as he cums and stilling as he spills his seed in the condom, “Ah shit! Y/N!”

His thrusts become sloppy and messy as he tries to ride out your highs while you spasm around him, whimpering as the aftershocks of your orgasm have your legs trembling under him and your white knuckle grip on the sheets falters.

Letting his weight fall over you almost entirely, George sighs in complete bliss and he kisses the back of your head and your cheek multiple times to say, “Did so good for me, sweetheart.” He drops a kiss on your lips and praises you once more, “My good pretty girl.”

The way he speaks to you makes your stomach flutter, and he feels it when you clench around him. “You like that huh?” He teases with a smirk, his nose brushing up your neck until he comes up to your ear and bites your earlobe to which you mewl in response.

He pulls out, hearing you whine when you feel upsettingly empty again but he rubs circles on your hips soothingly and asks, “Shall we go take a shower? Do you want me to help you up?”

You barely manage to reply with a quiet, “Mhm…” when a loud ringing snaps the two of you out of your wonderful post orgasm bubble.

You don’t really recognize the ringing so you figure it’s George’s phone. Yet, the drummer doesn’t make an attempt to go and get it, as he flops beside you in bed for a second before pushing himself off the bed and sheds himself off the condom you just used.

He gets up to discard it in the bathroom and just as he crosses the threshold of the ensuite, he hears his phone start ringing again. He fully ignores it again, taking his time in the bathroom until he hears you call out for him to pick up the unrelenting calls.

A grunt leaves his lips when he comes back to the room and picks up the phone only to read his sister’s name on the screen so he answers with a meek, “Y’alright?” to let her know he isn’t in the mood for the constant ringing.

You hear pure silence surrounding you for a good half minute before George sighs out an annoyed, “Fucks sake.” Opening your eyes to see him, you move onto your side to watch him as he speaks. “Right now? Really?” He asks, entirely unamused. “Yeah, really busy actually.” He says sternly, looking at you naked in front of him with wide eyes. That makes you purse your lips not to laugh but what gets the giggles out of you is when he sighs loudly and mutters, “I hate you.” to whoever it is on the phone.

It’s barely another half minute that he listens to whoever is on the other side, before he ends the call with an impatient, “Yeah, yeah. Sure. See ya’.”

“What’s wrong?” You ask curiously, your fingers playing with the ends of your hair.

George rolls his eyes at the situation, “My sister needs me for something. She says it’s urgent but I doubt it.” He shrugs then, ignoring the importance of whatever it was his sister needed him for, he had only been half listening really. “I can stay though, it wouldn’t be the first time I ignore her.”

That has you snorting in laughter, “Go, you idiot.”

“But–” He tries to argue as he comes to hover over you, head dipping to steal a kiss out of you which you break after a few seconds by pushing his shoulders softly so you can reassure him it’s fine. After all, you had really enjoyed yourself so you’re genuinely considering another date with him.

“It’s okay. I had the best time with you, and that’s all I wanted.” Your hands come to the back of his head, fingers digging into the hair at the nape of his neck and scratching his scalp softly.

George clicks his tongue and he pouts to joke, “Knew you only wanted me for my body.”

You cackle at his antics and tell him to “Shut up.” only to do it yourself by pulling him into you so you can share one last kiss. It’s sweet but it isn’t soft, your lips moving together with intent as if to prove you need to do it again because it’s just too good.

But you have to stop it before it can turn into something more. You pull on his hair so your lips separate with a smack and, with the sweetest smile and looking at him with doe eyes, you say, “Thank you, George.”

“I had the best time Y/N/N.” He replies wholeheartedly then, agreeing with your previous point.

“Me too.” You nod softly to reiterate, your hands coming back down to cup his jaw, thumbs rubbing circles on his skin.

One last short kiss is all you get in that bed before you both stand up and get dressed. Well, George does, in the same getup as the day before, while you put your robe back on and tie it around yourself slowly as he finishes getting his shoes on.

“I’ll see you soon for a second date, yeah?” He says when you walk him to the door, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“You definitely will.” You assure, knowing you’d be texting him very soon about a second date if he doesn’t text you first about it.

He winks right as he opens the door, stealing one last peck from your lips before walking away. Leaving you with a stupid smile on your face that only gets bigger when you close the door behind you and go back to your room, seeing the mess you had left the bed looking like.

Yes, you were definitely going on a second date with him.

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A/N: What did you think? Hope you lot enjoyed it! Thank you for reading, I'm so excited to see your reactions! xx

Taglist: @imagine-that-100 @kennedy-brooke @drinkurkombucha @vinylandcoffeecollection @butyou-callmewhenyourebored

[insidemymind19]

Birthday wish

Day one of matty35 by the amazing @abiiors @the1975attheirverybest this is just a very short sweet little Drabble

As always like and reblogs are more than appreciated 🫶

Cw BAD writing, fluff

You’d know Matty Healy since you were both toddlers barely able to speak and now here you were 18 years later with the biggest crush on your best friend.

you admire the amazing person he had grew up to become, watching as he effortlessly mingled with both his and your own friends who had happily taken up the invite to his birthday party, any excuse for teenagers to attend a house party.

“Hey birthday boy” you yelled over the loud house music that was blasting from a speaker in the corner of the room,

“hey trouble you having a good night” Matty asked sounding like he was enjoying indulging in the birthday drinks,

“yeah it’s great everyone seems to be having a great time” you said looking around at the group of teenagers,

“so come on then what did you wish for when your mum forced you to blow out those candles” you asked teasingly knowing that the boy would hate you bringing up the embarrassment of the earlier events.

“Now now sweetheart I can’t be telling you those things can I” he replied flirtatiously as he brushed a strand of hair from your face making your heart rate quicken.

“Hmm knowing that mind of yours I don’t think I want to know actually” you affirm with a mischievous smile that makes Matty laugh.

“Oh love you just know me too well don’t you”. He’s quips, “and actually if you must know it was much more wholesome than that” he says as his hands find their way onto your hips.

“Well birthday boy I’m Actually yet to give you your present” you declare earning a raise of his eyebrow from Matty,

“but earlier you….” cutting Matty off as you lean your head up and place your lips softly on his as your lips move in a perfect motion one that you’re desperate to know more of, tasting the earlier drinks and tobacco on both of your tongues as you revel in this glorious moment.

you pull away grasping Matty’s bottom lip between your teeth placing your forehead on his, “what if you just made my wish come true” you hear him whisper over the euphoric blissful feeling.

[vinylandcoffeecollection]

Posting this excerpt that I wrote recently for no reason other than life has been crazy and I haven’t written in ages. This imagines one of Cellophane House Matty’s first hang outs with Hann, before George comes on the scene and before they know much about each other. No idea if this’ll be anything but it feels good to be writing again!

“Maybe I don’t wanna talk to girls,” Matty shot back. He fixed his gaze on the neck of the guitar, flexing his left hand and forming the four finger G chord. He plucked the strings delicately with his right, willing the Year Ten boy to notice. No three finger chords around Adam Hann.

He heard Adam’s short laugh. “They seem to want to talk to you.”

This time, he looked up when he spoke. “Maybe I’d rather talk to boys”. He played with the loose bit of skin by his thumb nail for an entire two beats in his head, keeping the eye contact with Adam throughout. Not defiance exactly but a steady look, a stillness floating above the skittering beat of his pulse in his neck.

He knew he wasn’t imagining the slight flush that started in Adam’s shirt collar and spread rapidly up his neck as he nodded. But he didn’t look away.

[imagine-that-100]

Good Boy

Description: Matty Healy x Reader (Female) | You get your period just before you’re due to go to an award show with the boys. Whilst the pain never dulls when you’re there, your fiancé’s affection certainly eases it and so do his cuddles when he drags you back home. 

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: This was requested by @ghostlightqueen​. Hope you enjoy it and I hope the rest of you do to. This is pretty fluffy and it was so cute to write up. Likes and Reblog are appreciated and as always thank you so much for reading x

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“You feeling any better?” Adam asks, after giving you a hug as he joins you back at the table.

You were currently at an award show with the boys that Matty had pleaded with you to come to. You’d not been to one of these events in years and you’d planned not to go to one again.

But this one was a smaller one than the others you’d been to. You weren’t all put on TV at this one and you weren’t in the O2, so you agreed you’d come.

Initially when you got up this morning and saw how excited Matty was to get ready for these awards, you yourself were looking forward to it. You were excited to wear your new teal pant suit that Matty had then designed his own outfit around and you were excited to see your fiancé perform again, even if it was just for one song.

You’d been swamped with work, so you’d unfortunately only made it to one show this tour. But now it was the end of them touring and you had your boys back around you, you were excited to see them up on stage again.

But then an hour before you were due to head off to the awards, your fucking period started.

You sort of knew it was coming because you had that icky feeling in your stomach all day, but you were hoping it was just the sensations you sometimes felt the day before it arrived.

But that was not to be.

You felt awful as the first few days of your period typically left you feeling. The fact you had to go out and wear heels and be nice to people you didn’t know didn’t make the feeling of your insides being scrambled, as you described it to Matty, any easier.

After assuring him you’d be fine after the painkillers had kicked in, you all headed off to the awards. And despite the painkillers barely helping you, you’d had a good night.

You got to see some lovely people you hadn’t seen for a while like the Pale Waves gang and Rome and Bea. You’d become quite good friends with Heather over the years so you always loved seeing her.

And of course, you got to spend the evening with your boys.

They won the award they were up for and they even got an award they didn’t know they were up for, for the Drive Like I Do album. And you had always adored seeing them perform.

Matty had truly grown into the role of a frontman and the way he worked an audience truly astounded you. The way the fans responded to him back when the first album came out astounded you, but the fact the audiences were still just as thirsty for him now made you laugh.

And you knew he loved it and played it to his advantage.

So, after the two songs they were asked to perform were done they slowly but surely made their way back over to you.

“A little, thanks Ad” You smile before sitting back down in your seat.

You weren’t feeling any better at all though, despite taking more painkillers about an hour ago. But thankfully the awards had nearly finished, and you had another lot of painkillers with you to take at the after party.

You knew Matty was excited to go to it as it had been a while since he’d attended one of these events. Especially with all of his friends being invited to come as well.

So, for him, you didn’t mind grin and bearing the pain. Even more so because he dressed himself to match you.

You were in a darker teal pantsuit and you had an orange low cut blouse on underneath it, with a matching pair of orange heels. Believe it or not, the colours did go really well together and immediately when Matty saw you in it he whipped out his casual orange suit, or as casual as an orange suit can get.

He borrowed a teal shirt and he somehow made it work. You probably both looked like muppets with his short mohican and your hair left to naturally fall around your shoulders.

But you both looked fit so you couldn’t care less. He could pull any combination off and always look incredible; you were envious of him in that respect.

But at least you could call him yours.

“How you feeling Sweetheart?” Matty asks coming straight back over to you when he escapes his conversation.

When he caught you routing for painkillers before you changed into your teal suit earlier, he could tell straight away that you didn’t feel well. And he knew exactly the reason why from how you carried yourself.

He was gutted for you because he knew you were excited to dress up for the first time in ages. Matty didn’t mind you not coming, and he said you didn’t have to, but you shot that down straight away.

You knew how much he wanted you there despite him acting like he didn’t. And he was your fiancé so you were going.

“Yeah okay, thank you” You smile and lean in for a quick kiss. “Well done, you were amazing”

He retakes his seat and says, with a concerned look in his eye, “Thank you… Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Promise I’m fine” You lie.

You felt like you were that Mortal Kombat character that had that worm thing bursting out of its chest. But instead of whatever it was bursting out of your chest it was trying to murder your uterus.

Uncomfortable was an understatement and the fact you weren’t drinking was worse. You told Matty you didn’t mind driving tonight as you knew he liked to have a few glasses of wine at these things.

You sort of wish you had the alcohol to dull your pain a bit more but you’d rather Matty have a good time. You’d take Matty’s alcohol induced affection as a distraction over alcohol every single time though.

You adored him so much. You were so glad you were going to marry him.

The day really couldn’t come soon enough.

The fact you were marrying him though was another reason that you didn’t want to ruin his night. Not because you didn’t want to upset him but because you didn’t want to burden him with thinking you wanted to leave when you actually didn’t.

So that was why you kept how you were feeling under wraps. And you managed that into the afterparty but of course when you excused yourself Matty wanted to find you not 2 minutes after you left his side.

He was certain he saw you head out the front. Matty assumed to answer a phone call as you didn’t smoke anymore, and the toilets were in the opposite direction.

So Matty tipsily headed out that way into the foyer of the venue you were in. And he spotted you in that stunning teal suit straight away.

But instead of being stood on your phone looking like an amazingly sassy businesswoman, you were crouched down leaning against a nearby wall with your head in your hands. And that shocked and scared Matty to his core.

He rushed over to you immediately and asked, “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

You head flew up immediately hearing Matty’s voice and Matty managed to take a breath of relief seeing you weren’t crying. You looked fine which confused Matty as he didn’t know why you were leaning against the wall looking like you were in pain.

Oh.

You were in pain.

“Hey” You smile and stand yourself back up on your orange heels. Before he can ask when he gets closer you assure him, ”I’m fine, I’m fine”

“No, you’re not” Matty shakes his head, looking at you with sad eyes.

You nod, trying to persuade him, “I am, I swear”

But Matty knows you better than that.

“What’s wrong?” Matty asks seeing if you’d be honest.

“Nothing’s wrong”

So Matty asks again, “What’s wrong?”

“My stomach is just cramping but I’m fine” You assure him, fixing he lapels on his orange blazer.

“You’re not”

“I am”

“You’re in pain, yes or no?”

“Matty” You sigh.

“Yes or no?”

You give in, “Yes but-“

“Then we'll leave. Just you and me” Matt says taking your hand and pulling you towards the exit.

You pull back against him, “Matty no. It's fine… You wanted to stay with Bea, Rome, Heather... I don’t mind staying.”

“Sweetheart, I literally just caught you crouched on the ground in pain” Matty chuckles, shaking his head at your blatant lie.

“I wasn’t in pain, I was seeing how my suit would fix itself” You tell him and gesture down at the teal material, “Looks pretty good”

“You always look pretty good but I’m not as fucking thick as you think I am.” Matty grins shaking his head at you before pulling you into a hug. “You used to be such a better liar”

“I’ve not got any secrets from you anymore.” You chuckle a little.

“You didn’t need to have any from me anyway.” Matty pulls you into a hug, and he presses a kiss to your head before he says, “You know I’ve adored you since we met, could tell me you buried a body and I’d of kept my mouth shut”

“Speaking of... I might need help moving the body later” You grin, pulling back a little so you're still standing close, your arms hanging loose around his neck.

“See I may believe you, but you’ve got mad period pain so I think we‘ll move the body next week” Matty chuckles, playing along.

You giggle at that and you move away from him so you can both head back towards the party. But Matty grabs your hand, “Where are you going?”

“Back in there” You point back to the doors that the party was hiding behind.

“No we're going home, come on” Matty pulls you back.

“Matty it’s fine, I know you wanna stay” You say genuinely.

You truly didn’t mind staying. You’d certainly had worse period pain and gone about normally.

You didn’t need to leave a party early.

“I want my stunning wife to be, to get into her pyjamas and be comfortable as her ‘insides are scrambling’, as you so poetically put it.” Matty tells you with a cheeky grin, “And I want to make her feel better in any way I can. ”

You tell him honestly, with the most genuine look, “Matty, I don't mind staying.”

“I literally want to go home.” Matty tells you, his eyebrows raised to emphasise his point.

You grin when you quote his lyrics at him, “Do you wanna leave at the same time?”

“Right, that's literally about dying... And I know you’re not that dramatic” Matty says pulling you back into his arms and you half hug half dance your way down the hall towards the car park.

When you get back home you immediately change into your pyjamas per Matty’s instructions. He brought you a drink and painkillers up to your bedroom and once he watched you take them, he went and got himself ready for bed.

After showering and quickly drying his hair he came back into your bedroom to find you lay in the centre of your large bed. You’d left room for him either side of you as you, but you looked so comfy Matty was almost hesitant to join you.

“You look like you feel better” Matty grins seeing you looking a bit better in yourself.

You smile at him, “Definitely feel better now I’m lay down”

“That’s good”

“Think I’d feel even better if I got a cuddle” You suggest with a cheeky grin and raised eyebrows.

“Lucky I’m available to give you that, isn’t it?” Matty chuckles, pulling the covers back to get into bed.

You raise your arms to him, so he knows to come to you. You wanted him close and you wanted to hold him.

If that meant you being used as a body pillow, then so be it.

Matty slotted himself right beside you and he lay his head on the top of your chest, so his head was tucked just under your chin. An immediate surge of warmth came over you when he settled himself in your embrace.

Your arms instantly went around his bare back and as you kept one on his smooth skin, your other instinctively travelled to his hair. It was still warm to touch from the hairdryer he used on his now short locks, and his body was still toasty from the heat of his shower.

It really helped dull the last ache that your period brought to you. Matty was like your personal hot water bottle.

You hum as you close your eyes and hug him a little tighter. “You’re really warm”

“That‘s unusual for me so enjoy it whilst it lasts” Matty hugs you a little tighter then.

You giggle knowing it was true and you do, you even tuck the duvet higher up his back, so he stayed toasty warm above you.

“Matty” You say, still repeatedly running your fingers through his short hair at the top of his head.

You feel Matty hum against your chest, “Yes Sweetheart?”

“Will you do me a favour please?” You smile, your eyes still closed, enjoying the closeness.

“Course.” Your fiancé says, picking his head up from your chest to look up at your gorgeous face, “Do you need me to go get you some chocolate? A McDonalds maybe, I know the twenty nuggets is sort of your comfort food these days”

You grin at him then, “You're adorable, but no.” You shake your head, “You don't need to go anywhere for anything”

“Then what can I do for you?” Matty asks, tilting his head to the side and his gorgeous brown eyes shined curiously.

“Can you stop shaving your curls off please?” You plead with a smile tugging at your lips, “I really miss my curly”

Matty grins feeling you still running your fingers through what locks he has left. “I’m right here, I'm no different because they’re gone”

“I know…” You grin, and you guide his head back down to resting on your chest so he’s as comfy as you, “Just miss messing with your longer hair sometimes”

“I miss you messing with it too.” Matty says lovingly, placing a kiss to your skin “I'll grow it back out for you, I promise”

You giggle a little then as each time he’d cut his hair over the years you’d scorned him for it and he’d taken no notice. You weren't expecting him to actually agree with you now but you were certainly glad he had.

“Thank you, my lovely” You grin. “And thanks for tonight”

“What do you mean? I’ve not done anything?” Matty asks, a little confused.

Your voice slows as you tell him, “Thank you for our cute matching outfits, that was really adorable. And for taking me with you, I'm really glad you won, and you know I love watching you perform. And for coming home and looking after me, you really didn't have to, but I really appreciate it”

“You know I’d do anything for you Sweetheart... And I'd rather you feel better and be in bed with you than stick around at an after party anyway” Matty tells you grabbing your hand that wasn't messing with his hair and he placed a kiss to the back of it.

“You’re far too good for me” You grin before you quickly lean down and place a kiss to the start of his head.

“You’re right, I did just win another award” Matty jokes and he only starts laughing when you hit him over the head playfully.

“I’m joking” He giggles, “I love you”

“I love you more Matty” You say and reach up above your head to flick the light switch off.

After a minute of just silently enjoying the other's closeness, Matty asks you quietly, “What time do you want to go and pick up our child from my Mum‘s tomorrow?”

You giggle at that question and say, “You know I was talking about our child to Y/B/F and she stopped me and questioned it thinking she’d gone into a coma for a year or something and missed us having a kid”

“Has she not heard us call Mayhem our kid since the day we went and got him?” Matty asks a little shocked.

Matty remembered the day you got him, and he’d fully said he was a practice child for you both in the future.

“Apparently not” You giggle, still messing with your fiancé’s hair.

Y/B/F has definitely been living under a rock.

Matty’s chuckles settle after a moment and he says, “Bed’s a little comfier without him laying on me if I'm honest”

“I’d say I’d agree but I'm practically in the same situation” You grin to yourself, still practically stroking his head.

“Aw that's nasty” Matty all but pouts.

“Or is it? He’s cute, you’re cute. He’s fluffy and you’re fluffy when you have more hair” You’re smiling like an idiot as you list all these things off, “You like biscuits, he likes biscuits. You cuddle up to me in bed and so does Mayhem. And you both give me good morning kisses”

Matty picks his head up and looks at you through the darkness, asking, “Is this the part where you say you’re marrying our dog instead of me?”

“I would but the invitations have already been printed and that would be a lot of money to change and update everyone” You joke, and you can see in the dim light that shines through your curtains that his jaw drops.

He gasps, “Nasty bitch”

“Mayhem’s a boy, he can’t be a bitch” You joke, thinking you’re funny.

Matty chuckles, kissing the side of your neck, “I meant you”

“That’s no way to speak to your fiancé Healy” You grin, liking the gentle kiss he placed on your neck. “Especially when she’s on her period”

Matty hums against your neck then and you hear him say, “Don’t cry on me now”

You roll your eyes at that. It wasn’t often you cried over a conversation with Matty when you were on your period, so you knew he was being dramatic. But you knew your man, you could play on the drama and he’d eat it up.

“I might do you know” You sniffle as if you’re getting upset.

Matty giggles into your neck a little then and you're smiling, still playing with his hair. Matty coos, despite knowing you’re joking, “Don’t do that”

You fake another shaky inhale, “I’ll try”

“Awwww” Matty pouts before pecking his way back down your collarbone and onto the top of your chest before resting his head there again.

You play the victim and press on, “What do you say to your poor wife to be who didn’t deserve that”

“Sorry Sweetheart” Matty chuckles before placing another kiss onto your skin.

You just can't stop grinning like an idiot. He literally was just putting in your hands and you loved him for being so soft with you.

“That's right… Such a good boy” You continue with your final dog similarity joke and pat his head.

Both you and Matty just lie there in bed giggling away like fools in love.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You can add yourself to my Taglists in my Masterlist x

[girlwsoftsound]

Baby It’s Cold Outside || Adam Hann Drabble

Word Count: 921 Summary: “Can i request a cute cuddly Adam where it’s winter and the heat is out so its super cold in the house. :)” Author’s Note: I took a little liberty with the plot here, but I think it comes out just as cute and cuddly as ever <3 Be sure to throw in a like or comment! I love seeing feedback from you all. Please feel free to read my other work here! Enjoy!

You loved the cold.

Cold weather, hot chocolate, fuzzy jackets, fire-lit nights - you loved everything about them. You loved their aesthetic, and the comfort they brought your life. There was nothing more relaxing than sitting beside a fire with hot chocolate in your hand and the love of your life sitting at your side. There was a caveat to all of this, though. You loved the cold, but only when you had somewhere warm to run to for freedom from it.

Secluded in a freezing cold house with no heating? Well, let’s just say that not even the warmest of hot chocolates could fix the discomfort brought there. You currently faced just that scenario. Bundled up in as many coats and blankets as possible, you sat on the couch watching your doting husband Adam trying his best to start a fire. This was meant to be a winter vacation in the mountains where, after spending the days on the slopes or in the powdery-white snow, you two could come back to the cabin you rented and find peace before a fire, all warmed up and happy. Mother nature had other plans.

“I think I just need to work this a bit more,” he grumbled as the sticks he worked together refused to spark. “Fuck, where is Matty or George with a lighter when you need them?”

“A-Adam,” you beseeched, wrapping your blankets even tighter around your shoulders, “can’t we go home? I know we wanted a vacation in the mountains, but this is simply impossible. I would much rather be home and not frozen alive.”

“You have to trust me.”

Of course, Adam hardly trusted himself. He felt like he was drowning above water, unable to provide the lovely vacation and resting place for you, the wife he desired to give the world at a word’s mention. He simply wanted the day to go well. Mother Nature was ensuring the exact opposite occurred, and that brought Adam nothing but anxiety and panic. Even though he knew his fire-starting venture was somewhat of a lost cause, he had to keep trying to make it work. He had to salvage what he could of the night.

“Babe, I t-trust you, but I also trust that this cold may render me unable to m-move s-soon.”

“Please, I can do this, just let me-”

Scaring you and him both, a loud gust of wind rattled the cabin. The windows creaked and the walls looked to groan under the force. Getting up off the couch, clutching your blankets, you put your foot down.

“I’m sorry babe, we need to go. Now. I am not getting snowed in with no heating in a barely stable cabin.”

Adam dropped his sticks in defeat. What you said, went. He was not going to force you there against your will. He was more than happy to bring you home like you wished. He simply was disappointed, in himself mostly. He had failed to give you the winter wonderland vacation he wanted. That failure haunted him, through packing, through checking out, and especially through the silent drive home.

By the time you were snuggled in your bed warming up, Adam was almost beside himself. He was sulking on his side of the bed, arms folded across his chest, his eyes just barely focused on the television opposite him. For a bit, you merely believed he was tired from the trip. As time passed however, Adam’s silence became troubling. You realized that he was upset. The sight broke your heart to take in.

So, you decided to do something about it. It started with you getting up and heading to the kitchen, pouring two glasses of milk and shoving them into the microwave. Chocolate and marshmallows finished the heated up drinks, turning them into the most delicious of hot chocolates. You carried them over to Adam, setting one on your side before handing him his on a little plate, a soft smile on his face. He paused and looked at it at first, but then dropped his reluctance to take it. The pleased look on his face said it all.

Next, you went to grab spare blankets from the closet. You pooled them around Adam, making him chuckle a bit given how his smaller figure seemed to drown beneath them all. You giggled, propping him up the best you could.

“Why are you doing this, dear?”

“Because,” you told him gently, pushing the blankets down a bit so that he could hold his hot chocolate comfortably, “you were looking down, and I wanted to give you the experience we missed out on. Sans the skiing. I’m afraid it would be a bit out of my range to be able to create a mountain made out of anything other than pillows, and even then I cannot promise that mountain would be skiable.”

“You’re trying to cheer me up, when the trip was meant for you?”

“Adam, you put so much love into planning that trip for the both of us. I know you are down about it, and rightfully so,” you replied, kissing at his nose before climbing into bed beside him and cuddling him close to you. “I just wanted to make you feel a bit better since it’s not your fault, you know?”

“What did I ever do to deserve someone as wonderful as you?”

You blushed. “I love you, Adam.”

“I love you too, {Y/N},” Adam replied, sweetly kissing you. “No matter how hot or cold it may be.”

[macabremads]

Masterlist

all works listed on here were posted between 2016-2018 with a few being more recent.

~MATTY HEALY~ (Most of these are mattyxreader) 

Choices: Matty reflects on his addictions and what let up to his girlfriend leaving him. (Drabble) 

The City: Matty relapses and has to face the repercussions for his actions. (Drabble) 

Faintstar: Matty promises to do better in regards to his addictions but after a rough night, he goes on stage and collapses after overdosing on his medications. 

Milk: Matty cannot seem to grasp onto reality after finding out that his girlfriend was cheating on him. 

Nectar Part 1: AU where Matty is a Jewish man in Germany during world war 2 and the reader is a German girl who’s family is allowing him to live with them before everything breaks out. 

The Start: You are struggling to adjust to your new school. You finally have a small break down at lunch and Matty decides to befriend you. 

Waverly Hills Part 1: Matty had tuberculosis during the 1900′s and you are a nurse at the Waverly Hills Sanatorium where he is placed.

Wavery Hills Part 2: Read above for description. 

Crestfallen: The reader has an Eating Disorder and Matty blames himself for her death. 

Sick: Matty is just really sick and you comfort him. 

Broken: Matty chooses his addictions over the reader. 

Complacent: Matty just wants to lay in bed with you. 

Vega 1.0: The reader reminisces about Matty and how he viewed life. (Mini Series) 

Vega 2.0: Read above. 

Vega 3.0: Read above. (End) 

Morning Lovin’: Just some lovely cuddling time between you and Matty

Recompense Part 1: A story where you ask Matty to accompany you to your friends wedding and somehow, feelings get in the way. (Ongoing) 

Asperous: Matty and your relationship become severed and he decides to seek treatment for issues you were unaware of, but not before bringing it to your attention first.

(New, 12/01/18) i dont wanna slowdance: Matty has a tough time getting over a bad breakup.

~PREFERENCES~ 

How They Propose

~GEORGE DANIEL~

You Give Me The Blues: George cheats on the reader. (Part 1)

~ADAM HANN~

Fatherhood: Adams fiance dies a year after their son Mason is born and he is left to pick up the pieces. That’s where you two become close. 

~ROSS MACDONALD~

Detour: The bus breaks down, making you and the boys have to stay in a hotel which results in you and Ross dancing along to your favorite song after his shower. 

[benditlikebedford]

I just finished THE WORLDS MOST EMO ADAM HANN DRABBLE and I hope you sick fuckers enjoy it because it’s super terrible. I gotta finish editing it, but I’ll probably post it tomorrow before I leave.

[alovesreading]

'tis the damn season | Part 2

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: 12.7k

Warnings: the tiniest bit of angst.

A/N: Here it is! I hope this one makes up for that first part lolllll. Will warn you that there's a sprinkle of angst at the beginning though... Don't kill me *runs and hides* Anyway, enjoy!!!!!

Masterlist

Part 1

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

“Shit,” you curse under your breath when his words hit you harder than the cold winds of December.

But maybe it’s the realisation that you just know nothing about him anymore that hits you even harder than what he has just said or the cold weather.

Entirely aware of how bad it can look, you pout up at him and add with heavy sorrow for him, “Oh Ross, I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

“S’alright,” Ross says with a shrug like it is nothing.

Your brows furrow, half in worry he’s bottling everything up and half in awe of the way he can cope so well with the situation—you know you could never do it.

After last year’s horrendous holiday break, when you were on your way up to Wilmslow, you had decided on making things right by everyone this year. End 2009 the right way and go into the new year with the joy of grasping onto normalcy back in a place you held dear.

It certainly did help that you have your boyfriend coming back home with you. Not alone anymore, and feeling the deep excitement for him to meet everyone you loved so much in Wilmslow.

That’s why as soon as you had managed to escape your parents and settled everything down in your room, you left your boyfriend to settle down while you ran down the stairs and up the road until you reached Ross’ house.

You certainly hadn’t expected him to turn down your idea of a double date of sorts because he and Katie weren’t together anymore. You thought that when he said he wasn’t sure it could be done, it meant you would have to make a bit more of an effort to get Ross’ friendship back.

You’re deflated by the news, thinking about how sad you are that the gifts you had gotten Katie would not make it to her in the end.

“Who’s he then?” Ross asks with a raise of his brows, bringing you back out from your thoughts.

Your mouth opens as you try to answer, but you stupidly stutter before giving him a vague answer, “Oh, erm, a classmate.”

It isn’t like you’ve come here to dump about your relationship though, and the idea of pouring facts about your boyfriend seems like poor taste after what Ross has just told you. But Ross is kind and you know he’s asking because you obviously were excited for him to meet him if you had come here to suggest going out on a double date.

It is your turn to be kind to him after two years of ruining shit with your stupidity so you let him get out of it by letting him know, “I’ve asked Matty and he said it was fine if I brought him by on Boxing day so I guess you’ll meet him properly then.”

“Right,” he nods first, but when a beat of silence goes by, he adds, “Sure.” His lips are pressed tightly together, the corners of his mouth barely lift up when he tries to fake enthusiasm as he finally adds, “Can’t wait.”

You can’t keep to yourself the shock, or better said, it’s easy for your mum to get what you’ve just found out due to how awful you feel for reminding Ross of his recent breakup, one you had no idea about.

And another thing you’ve got no idea about is that, after you tell your mum how bad you feel about what had just happened, she called Ross’ mum and invited her over for Christmas dinner the following day.

A truly horrible idea that you scold your mum about when she tells you about it the morning of the 25th.

“Mum, what?! How’s it gonna help him to have dinner with us when he’s just broken up with Katie?!”

Of course, your mother is oblivious to what you mean, “He’s gonna have company! All of us together will make him happy!”

Unfortunately, you can’t explain what had happened the past two years, the way you had behaved, and how it seems incredibly unfair to have him have Christmas dinner with you and your boyfriend in the room.

So, to try and fix the mess your mum has unknowingly made, you take it upon yourself to make sure dinner doesn’t end up in a situation like the previous two years.

You keep the pda with your boyfriend to the minimum, make sure to include Ross in every conversation—basically spend most of the time boasting about the guys’ band to your boyfriend—, and keep asking Ross and his parents all about how they’re doing.

Ross is smiling and participating in conversation, which you really appreciate and you relax a bit halfway through dinner when noticing that Ross is doing far better than you had ever done with Katie.

And it’s then that guilt starts creeping back up.

But the thing that you don’t know is that Ross is just good at acting and putting on a smile, because seeing your boyfriend’s hand on your thigh all throughout dinner and the way he takes every opportunity he can to kiss your cheek, is killing him.

Ross gets it then. He gets why it had been so hard for you to keep your feelings to yourself back when you met Katie. Because he can feel that horrendous burn rising up his throat, burning in his chest every glance that he takes at you and sees that the reason for every smile and giggle is the lad beside you.

You have always had a hard time not letting your every thought show on your expression, Ross took the piss about it so often, though he really appreciated it because it meant he always knew what was going through your head.

However, he had the ability to hide everything behind a blank face or a half smile and not be questioned about it.

Exactly like in this very moment when he’s half smiling into his cup of cider as both your parents—as if they hadn’t met him already when they went down to London during summer break—and his parents grill your boyfriend with loads of questions that the poor bloke stutters to answer most of the time.

His fingers clutch the cup tighter every time he hears him call you baby, and he dies a bit more inside when he sees your boyfriend mumble “I love you,” in your ear when you come to his defence after your dad makes a stupid joke about him that has you gasping.

“Love you too,” you reciprocate and give him a quick peck to which everyone coos.

Everyone but Ross.

Ross, who settles you are both even now, who tries washing down the bitter taste of jealousy with more cider until your dad brings out a bottle of whiskey and opens it for everyone to enjoy, and it is then that the bassist starts gulping down the dark alcohol with an ease that your dad jokes about.

What he doesn’t know is that it burns every time Ross takes a gulp back, his throat raw and aching, but the feeling is just strong enough to overcome the horrendous way seeing you this happy and in love makes him feel.

Such an idiot, Ross thinks about himself. He’s an absolute fucking fool.

And then, your mum is calling it’s time for Christmas pictures and when you and your boyfriend go first and the first time your mum presses the shutter is when your boyfriend kisses you under the mistletoe, Ross can’t take it any longer and he excuses himself to walk back home alone.

It isn’t until he has thrown himself on his bed, groaning about how he feels like he’s gonna be sick all over his sheets, that he realises he’s walked out before even getting a picture with you.

Ross falls asleep thinking he needs to make it up to you on Boxing day when you bring your boyfriend over to Matty’s.

“Hope she isn’t too much of a handful,” George jokes when they all fall into easy conversation and banter with your boyfriend.

“She’s a good handful,” your boyfriend jokes, letting his hand fall down to your ass and squeezing it with eager fingers.

You gasp and push him off you while he cackles loudly, the room follows along. A choir of laughter around the place from the lads and their own girlfriends, though the deep rich laughter from Ross is missing.

Your gaze sweeps the room until it falls on him and you give him an apologetic smile. He offers you a tight lip grin and a shake of his head, like he’s trying to say it’s okay.

Nothing really is because with every minute that passes and he sees how well your boyfriend gets along with everyone, Ross dies a little inside. And, in spite of how lovely Boxing day is going, he can’t find himself enjoying the togetherness like he usually does.

An invitation is made for your boyfriend to join you for the gig the band is playing at a pub in Manchester tomorrow night.

Enthusiastically, you both accept and when you go back home, you can’t stop smiling at the prospect of these two sides of your life merging with an ease that makes your heart swell.

You’re early to the gig, since you had convinced your boyfriend to take the chance to go around Manchester before you were due at the pub to see your friends, and you chat with the boys as they set up in a makeshift stage.

At the start of December, their manager Jamie had founded Dirty Hit, a label of his own so he could finally sign the band himself.

You are so unbelievably proud of your boys, tears well up your eyes watching them perform flawlessly on that stage: smiling so hard at Matty’s passion when singing, the funny faces George has always made when playing the drums, the clever riffs Adam managed to play easily and, of course, the suave Ross had when playing that bass.

You, amongst the almost sixty people in that pub, are entranced by them and you sing along the songs you’ve witnessed being written, put together and practised throughout the years.

When they play ‘Robbers’, you can’t help but cry. The memories it brings to you are so overwhelming, your boyfriend ends up hugging you from behind to soothe you as you sing along to the incredible lyrics Matty had somehow come up with at 18, the summer before you went off to university, when everything was alright.

Ross catches a glimpse of you and his heart aches when seeing the tears rolling down your face. The hurt only gets stronger when your boyfriend is the one to wipe them off your cheeks.

He brings his gaze forward again but when he’s unable to clear his thoughts by focusing on a stranger’s face, he lets his head hang and his eyes fall on his fingers playing the strings of his bass.

The same one he had shown off to you the first time you had gone to his house on Boxing day and you stayed there, perched on his bed as you watched him show off his skills on the instrument.

Ross isn’t sure then how much longer he can cope with this, seeing you smitten with somebody else, craving their touch and not his, needing their company and not his.

He’s so relieved when you go back home with your boyfriend after the gig, swiftly getting yourself out of a night of drinks with the guys since you have plans for the next morning that you can’t get out of.

The hangover Ross nurses the following day is entirely worth it for he managed to drown his sorrows with alcohol without being questioned about it, he hid it behind being overly enthusiastic about a new year with a now signed band, the one thing they had been dreaming since they properly formed the band in 2002.

But it doesn’t matter that he had managed to conceal his real feelings and intentions behind drinking that night, for when New Year’s Eve comes around, he’s entirely transparent as he knocks back glass after glass from the moment you arrive at Matty's.

Unlike a year ago, it is time for Ross to get plastered since he’s totally incapable of coping with you being all over your boyfriend now that alcohol is in your system and, since you’ve seen Ross’ reactions for the past few days and you have assumed the bassist is entirely fine with everything, you don’t have to hold back anymore.

For a miraculous change, George is the one to take care of Ross when midnight approaches and he just can’t stay in the room to watch what he knows will happen the second the countdown reaches one.

Ross’ body reacts on its own when he hears the room he’s left erupt in a chorus of “Happy New Year!” and he rushes to the nearest bathroom to be sick when the ruckus of greetings change for one of whistles and teasing, a confirmation that you’re definitely kissing your boyfriend like you had kissed Ross all those years ago.

Hiding away in the bathroom, Ross spends the rest of the night there, sitting against the door and ignoring every knock and attempt of opening it.

He wakes up passed out on the bathroom floor the next morning, wishing he had drunk even more to forget why he had been drinking to begin with. But not even drinking more would’ve helped with him avoiding seeing you and your boyfriend cuddling on one of the settees when he walks out to leave the Healy's house.

When you come knocking on his door later that day, he groggily answers the door. Your goodbye hits him like a gut punch but, despite being sad about seeing you go, he can’t help being a little relieved his chest doesn’t have to ache to the sight of you in love anymore.

At least not until next Christmas.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

Around May of 2010 you graduated university.

That nightmare was finally over and the only good thing that had come out of it other than your degree, and the fact that you managed to land a job before graduating, was that you weren’t alone anymore.

Your mum and dad went down to London for the ceremony and it brought tears to your eyes to see them in the crowd as you walked onto the stage to get your diploma. Loads of pictures had been taken and though you felt elated, overflowing with joy, it wasn’t until you finally had time to check your phone and see the messages your friends from back home had sent you that you felt complete.

Adam’s message had made you coo and tear up, whilst George and Matty’s messages made you laugh like an idiot. Ross’ message had made you smile nostalgically, a tear slipping down your cheek when you had read it again.

Cannot believe you’re graduating today, sweetheart. So incredibly proud of you :)) You were always the smartest one of us after all. Hope you’re having the best time celebrating yourself today, you’re fucking brilliant Y/N/N. Love you lots, see you soon I hope xx

Truth was, your parents had invited him along but he had declined, excusing it on work and something band related that your mum and dad didn’t ask too much about. Still, they were sad they couldn’t surprise you with Ross’ presence on such a big day.

Ross had really regretted his decision when you posted a bunch of pictures of your graduation day to your Facebook page. Though, the ones where your boyfriend was right next to you reminded him just why he had said no.

He was a coward, he wouldn’t deny it if he were to be called out for it but he was doing it for the best of the situation, for the best of your friendship—or at least to the bits of it that still lingered to which he was holding onto tightly.

Because somehow, despite how the last Christmas time had turned out for himself, Ross found himself holding onto the hope that everything would be alright this year when you came back home for the holidays. And there was a little annoying voice inside his head that laughed at himself for it, but he was holding onto you desperately, like water in his hands, hoping you wouldn’t slip fully through his fingers.

So he had held on and on, day after day, onto that hope until December was around the corner and when a text of yours came through to the group chat you had with the guys, that hope plummeted down and shattered on the floor.

Guys I’ll be spending the holidays in London so please don’t worry about a present for me this year. I promise I will make this up to you very soon!! Miss yous so much and love yous even more!! xx

The first feeling that shows is sadness. Ross frowns, reading your message over and over, his heart sinking and settling on the pits of his stomach as despair overcomes him. He really had spoiled the only chance he would get this year of seeing you, just because he hadn’t really wanted to see you with your boyfriend again.

But now, all he can think is that he’s willing to endure that horrendous jealousy and anguish just to see you again. And he’s especially desperate because it's Christmas! It’s your time of the year, your and Ross’ time, or at least that’s what it had always been until 2007.

Ross wants to pull his hair out of his head then, not only dreading having to spend this season without even seeing you from afar, but just from being reminded of how this will be the fourth year in a row where something has happened and shaken the dynamic you had shared and cherished since 2002.

And then, nosy Matty asks why you’re staying in London because it’s certainly very rude of you to abandon your best friends in the entire world to spend the holidays in the south—that’s exactly what the curly headed boy sends on the group chat.

Which prompts you to answer with a string of laughing emojis and then the truth: you’re spending the holidays with your boyfriend’s family this year.

Reading that message is what turns Ross’ sadness into anger in a split second.

Because you’re breaking the promise you had made before you left for uni, the promise you had swore to never break when Sara, Danielle, and Jodie eventually did.

Hope is gone. A tiny lit flame that has just been blown out and there’s nothing left of it but the string of smoke rising up into the air.

Ross knows this is it then, the end of it all.

He could’ve never predicted it would take eight years to lose you entirely, and he sort of wishes he could warn his past self so he could shield himself from anything he could develop for you when you first met.

He chucks his phone somewhere on his bed, fully ignoring any other messages coming into the group chat afterwards.

Nothing mattered anymore.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

It certainly is a shock to see you walking out of the house when Ross is walking back to his from the shops.

Matty had sent him out to buy decorations for the New Year’s Eve party because, suddenly, he decides the party needs to be a proper one with decorations and props and cone hats and silly 2012 shaped glasses that definitely don’t look feasible to look through.

So he’s toying with the frame of one of the glasses, thinking about how quickly 2011 has gone by, when he sees you walking out of your house with a skip in your step.

Since there was no message on the group chat, he didn’t really know if you were coming back home or not.

Not that he cared.

At least, that’s what Ross had been telling himself.

But it’s clear he indeed cared because when your eyes fall on him and a gorgeous smile breaks on your face, there’s a hint of relief that floods his system.

“Ross! Hey!” You are wary of the distance that’s there between you, not only physically because he’s still yet to cross the road towards you but also emotionally because you two haven’t spoken at all in the entirety of the year.

Well, you had if the short birthday messages you sent the other counted.

“Hi, Y/N. Y’alright?” he finally asks when he crosses the road and stands just a few metres away from you.

You nod, “Amazing. You?”

“Pretty good.”

You hum because he doesn’t sound so sure about it. Your eyes fall on the bag in his hand, catching the look of the New Year’s themed goods.

“Those look nice. Matty’s decorating this year?”

Ross chuckles softly, “Yes, apparently the party needs to be proper from now on.”

You snort at that and roll your eyes at the image of Matty saying that in your head. He was so annoying, you truly adored him. “Ha, right. Well, I’ll see you then!”

Wow what a good lengthy chat, Ross thought sarcastically. Still, he didn’t let how that made him feel show. With a soft smile, he nods and says, “See ya’,” before resuming his walk and making it back home.

He makes a great effort not to look down the road to see where you’re heading. That quick, awkward chat is enough to know where you stand and in what state your friendship is. Gone.

Ross comes to terms with the fact that it just will never be the same. It’s all gone: you, the holidays you’ve grown to love, all the traditions that only entailed the two of you.

It hurts his chest and he wonders if it hurts yours as well.

He doesn’t even see you the day after, on the 25th. There’s nothing delivered to his house—your mum had done it the year before, but the lack of it this year meant the official loss of that tradition—and since your boyfriend and his family are over at yours, or so Ross’ mum told him, the MacDonalds leave your family to it and don’t interrupt by sending anything over to your house.

The next time Ross sees you is at Matty’s on Boxing day, which goes as smoothly as it can. It’s only refreshing to have the rest of the boys there along with their girlfriends, and little Louis Healy is a funny distraction from the turmoil that clouds Ross’ brain when in the same room as you and your boyfriend.

When New Year’s Eve comes, alcohol makes for that miraculous distraction instead, but this time he’s more careful about it. Not blacking out but, instead, numbing himself with every drink until the countdown happens and seeing you and your boyfriend sharing a passionate kiss doesn’t make him want to run into oncoming traffic.

You leave on the 3rd of January this time, giving your boyfriend’s family and your own time to enjoy the start of the year together.

This time, when Ross answers the front door after hearing incessant knocking and he sees you standing there with a soft smile and a goodbye on the tip of your tongue, saying goodbye back feels more significant.

As he says goodbye, still half hiding behind the door, it feels like he’s bidding farewell to your friendship and all you two ever were.

What you never had been.

Ross wonders then if things would’ve been different if he had done something about the two of you when he kissed you under the mistletoe in 2006, how you two could be in such a different place if he had made a move after kissing you when the clock struck midnight at the very start of 2007.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

The first week of August 2012, the first official music project by the band came out. It was a bit odd knowing the boys had an official name now, but The 1975 sounded fucking brilliant—you had assured Matty of it when he sent you a picture of it freshly tattooed below his Mortal Kombat tattoo saying that he had gotten the new name tattooed so he wasn’t allowed to change his mind anymore.

You had gone to the closest HMV to your office and bought the CD, sending a picture of it to the guys on your group chat and gushing over how fucking good it was after you had listened to it four times in one sitting.

And you had gone just as crazy when November rolled around and on the 19th the Sex EP came out. A quick message was sent in the middle of your short lunch break, you’d written it with the biggest smile on your face.

Holy shit guys, that was incredible!!!! I’m so unbelievably proud of yous :’’)) Who would’ve thought you’d go from changing your band name every other month to having two stunning EPs out!!! I need yous to sign my new CD!! Cannot wait to see you brilliant, talented lot on Christmas. Love youuuuu!!! xxxxx

It was odd that after all that time, Ross could still hear your voice in his head saying all that while he read it. Like he just can’t truly let go of you, and a flicker of hope that still lives inside him then becomes obvious, he can’t help but think, maybe, just maybe, you won’t miss Christmas at home this year like he’s been expecting you to all year long.

It felt almost like he had been holding his breath since that notion became apparent in his mind, the anticipation of not really knowing if his hopes were gonna lead him to be disappointed or if he would actually be right.

Ross lets out a sigh of relief when he walks out of his house and he catches a glimpse of you walking in through the front door of your parent’s house with a bag in hand.

He’s not aware of what he’s doing until his quick strides lead him all the way up to your front door and he’s harshly knocking on it.

You’ve barely been able to shout hello to your mum, who’s upstairs, and let your dad take your bag up to your room when you’re startled by the knocking.

Turning around on your heels, it’s merely two steps you take until you can grab the handle and turn it to open the door and show a speechless and surprisingly enthused Ross bundled up in a cosy flannel coat and a beanie, the tip of his nose tinting pink from the cold, and his cheeks matching the shade.

Your eyes widen at the sight of him. You have no idea why he’s just standing here, how on Earth he had managed to know exactly when you would arrive or if he had been expecting you, but you can’t stop the need to feel him closer than this the second you see him.

Basically throwing yourself into him, you gasp and wrap your arms around his waist, his arms coming to envelop you in a hug over your shoulders and you melt into him completely.

“Oh my god. I missed you so much,” you whisper into his ear.

His heart squeezes in his chest, leaving him weak enough to admit, “Me too. So much.”

He knows it’s not time for inquiries but he’s honestly taken aback by the fact that you’re here so his questions leave him without him wanting them to, “Are you okay? How’s London treating you? How’s your boyfriend, is he spending it here again?”

Those are heavy questions, lots to explain that just leave you without a word to utter. Except for the last question. That situation’s status was clear enough that you pull back and take a deep breath to be able to answer through the pain of thinking about it, “No. Ermm, we broke up.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t–,” Ross starts apologising but when he sees your chin start to wobble and tears filling your eyes, he pulls you back into him as he says, “Don’t cry, C’mere.”

“It’s all my fault,” you can’t help but admit. Not really about the breakup, that was certainly not your fault if you looked at the bigger picture, but the horrendous pain that fills you when you think about how your attempts to fill the emptiness from being away from home had crumbled down and left you feeling even lonelier than ever. You shake with a sob in Ross’ arms and admit, finally, “I hid so much from you guys.”

The confusion in his breathy, “What?” is clear and you know this is the right moment to just come clean about everything, before this opportunity leaves you like a train does a station.

“Do you…” you sniffle as you pull back to look at him.

God, you must look like a mess and a right idiot. Ross thinks that despite how his heart is breaking seeing you this upset, he’s never seen a person more beautiful.

“Do you wanna come in?” you suggest, thumb pointing behind you into a house he hasn’t stepped foot inside since Christmas day 2009, 3 years ago. “I feel like I owe you a lot of truths.”

Carefully, he nods and that’s when you put your hand out for him to hold and walk into the house.

Electricity runs to his fingertips where he holds you, painfully aware of how your absence has made your proximity now erupt a wave of feelings inside him that he had thought were gone.

Once he’s inside the house, you close the door. He expects you to guide him to the living room but, to his surprise, you take him up the stairs and into your room.

Even your dad is surprised to see Ross in the house after all this time for he stops in his tracks when he sees the now very tall lad walking hand in hand with you on the way to your room, which he’s leaving after leaving your bag neatly on top of your bed.

“Oh hello, Ross. Missed seeing you around here, kid.”

Ross smiles but before he can respond to your dad’s greeting, you speak out, “Thanks for helping me with the bag dad. I’m gonna chat with Ross for a bit if you don’t mind.”

Your dad notices the tears in your eyes then, with the slight waver of your voice so he knows this is a serious matter and he nods, giving you both a smile before walking past you into his room where your mum’s still hiding. She must be really entertained with what she’s doing since she hasn’t run to your room to crush you in a hug like she always does, but you won’t complain right now because it seems like everything is about to spill out of your mouth.

Closing your room’s door behind you, Ross makes his way into your room when you drop his hand. He sits at the edge of your bed and you do the same, looking into his eyes for a second before letting your gaze drop to your lap, where you fiddle with your fingers nervously.

A sigh leaves you.

This is it then.

Looking back up at him, you take in his worried expression and start telling him everything. How you knew university would be hard from the very second you moved into your dorm. How you had been so horribly homesick, you got depressed and had to talk to a therapist on campus for quite a while. The amount of times you had thought of dropping out throughout the first year, but had refused to come back home empty handed and regretting giving up when you have always been academically driven.

And how, despite your efforts, the second year had been just as bad.

You couldn’t make friends but not by lack of trying, it was harsher in uni to find people you felt in tune with when everyone was so focused on themselves and the groups established there were far more stronger than in high school; so many people knew each other from school already, it felt like trying to be friends with them was causing a disturbance to their friendships.

And then you came back to London from Wilmslow, that time Ross had told you to go back and you had left right after the gift exchange at Matty’s, and you met this guy. He gave you just the amount of attention and kindness to lure you in and grow attached to him after craving proper human connection for so long.

He had become your boyfriend easily, because he gave you attention and made you feel needed, despite both of those notions having meant in a sexual way more times than not.

It wasn’t the best relationship and you knew that, but you would take anything, even if faulty, just to not feel alone like you had the two previous years again.

So you made due with what you had and fell in love with him, though you knew he didn’t feel the same as you did, and if he ever did say it was just because he wanted to keep you. For convenience really, because if he said he wanted you, you would drop anything for him, even if you didn’t want to say yes, you did because you feared being left alone.

And then he realised he could make you stay by reminding you how badly you had been going through it before he appeared into your life, and now you could point out how emotionally manipulative he had been, but right then, it had gone right past your head.

That was why it had been so easy for him to cheat before you two graduated, and it had been even easier for him to get you to forgive him. He would say you wouldn’t survive without him, without his love, without his presence in your life; he reminded you just how far away everyone was, how you had lied and kept things to yourself so no one worried and how selfish of you it would be to call and talk about yourself and your issues which you could resolve easily, just by forgiving him and taking him back.

So like a brainless fool, you did.

And then you graduated and you moved in with him, and though you had a job of your own, he convinced you to do everything for him. His kisses, the sex, the cuddles, him making time for you, it all was your reward. Showing you affection had become a reward for you keeping the flat clean, cooking meals and paying half the rent, it had become something to exchange for your efforts rather than something that came with a loving relationship.

You knew he had cheated at least twice after that first time but kept quiet. You knew, but the only thing you could do was ask him to wear a condom every time you fucked, just because that was the last bit of love and concern you had for yourself.

That was until a few weeks before your birthday, when you got off work early because you were feeling a bit poorly and the feverish, dizzy feeling that overcame you was enough for your boss to send you home immediately.

It had been nothing compared to the feeling that washed over you when you quietly came into the flat and walked blindly down the hall to your bedroom, only to find your boyfriend balls deep in some girl.

Your horrified gasp and confused mumbling wasn’t enough for him to stop, instead he kicked you out of the room and you left running back to the living room where you stood almost dry heaving as you replayed the moment over and over again, wanting to be sick but not being brave enough to walk up to the bathroom with how close to the bedroom it was.

Still, he took a fair few minutes to come out of the bedroom and face you. From what you heard, you knew he hadn’t even taken the consideration to stop and had chosen to finish before he could even begin to explain what was going on.

Not that it needed explaining, really.

But it was the absolute lack of remorse in his face when he came out to the living room that brought you out of the hypnosis he had caught you in for so long. The fact that he hissed through his teeth why the fuck you had come home so early. The fact that he sounded more apologetic to the girl than to you, his girlfriend of three and a half years.

And it was the realisation that you would rather feel this hurt because of breaking up with him than because he was trying to convince you that it had been nothing and you could forgive him yet again.

So you did. You broke up with him that very second. Going to the bedroom, which made you feel even more disgustingly nauseous, you quickly packed everything you had there in a big suitcase you had thankfully kept. All that you had in there as best as you could and the rest shoved in a big bag of yours that didn’t fit inside the case.

You had felt more alone than ever, without your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend now—, without any friends because all of your friends had been his first and you knew he would manipulate them enough to make them switch on you the second they found out, without a roof to live under.

But you felt free, oddly, and it was that which drove you to call up one of your co-workers and ask for their help.

Emma was the sweetest and let you stay in her flat for the week and a half it took you to find a place you could rent. You hadn’t been exactly choosy with it, just going off necessity and settling for the better most convenient option, both for your pocket and the proximity to your job.

So you were now living in some shitty flat in a very unsafe area in London, but it was close to the tube station and it was only a thirty minute commute to your office, which you were growing to appreciate.

It was the fact that for the first time in a while you felt like your own person that made you smile on the daily.

And now the fact that you had finally come clean about everything to one of the most important people in your life.

Ross is speechless. He’s lost his breath with every bit that you’ve told him, and yet the way that you fully leave him stupefied and unable to breathe is the smile that you give him when you’re done with your story.

That toothy grin he has missed so much, accompanied with your tear stained cheeks and glassy eyes.

His heart is utterly broken for you, someone so beautiful inside and out being absolutely destroyed and mishandled by people who never appreciated you for who you truly are, stuck in a situation that you kept shut because you’re selfless like that.

Ross feels like his heart had been shattered in a million pieces, but he feels a new wave of heartache when he remembers how cruel and unfair he had been to you when, unbeknownst to him and everyone else, you were going through such a nightmare.

He wants to bang his head against a wall.

But not more than he wants to crush you in a hug and tell you it’ll be alright now.

So he does.

His arms feel heavenly around you, melting into his chest and hiding in his neck comes to you like second nature just how it had always been back then, before everything happened.

You can’t help but cry, and though some of your tears come from the ache in your chest, most of them are spilled because you feel relieved that you can shed yourself of the weight of everything that you’ve been keeping to yourself, relieved that you can mend things back home and you can try and get back those friendships you have always cherished.

Ross doesn’t let you go, not when you calm yourself down and stop crying, not when you yawn and rub your tired eyes, not when it starts getting dark out.

He’s hesitant to let you go when you go to move your bag out of your bed so you can lay down. But he follows when you pat the spot next to yours on the mattress.

His arms wrap around you and he pulls you closer to him. You two haven’t done this in so long, it’s hard to even point out when was the last time you cuddled, but your legs tangle with an ease that makes your heartbeats stutter.

With eyes fluttering as you two succumb to slumber, the last thing you remember before falling asleep is the feeling of Ross’ lips pressing on top of your head.

“I had missed this,” you admit groggily when you wake up to his fingers rubbing circles on your lower back.

The darkness of your room envelopes you like a blanket, pale moonlight sneaking through your blinds to give you the faintest bit of sight.

You can barely make out the dimples on his cheeks as he smiles down at you with a puffy face and sleepy eyes, “I missed you.”

Whole. That’s how you feel when he says that with a warm conviction that melts your insides. You hum, “Yeah. Me too.”

A knock on your door makes the two of you look in the direction of it, and slowly peeling it open, your mum peeks her head through to smile at you.

“Haven’t seen you like that in ages,” she recalls with a coo. “You two are so grown up now.”

You smile just by remembering the pictures your mum would take of the two of you cuddling on the settee after falling asleep watching a film. The nostalgia makes you wish she would take a picture right now just so you could compare it to them.

“Sorry to interrupt darlings, you two look cosy, but could you do me a favour?”

That’s how you end up at the shops with Ross, giggling as you walk through the aisles trying to find the things your mum had forgotten to get on her last shopping trip for tomorrow’s dinner.

It’s hard not to get distracted when you walk around, seeing all the Christmas sweets and treats, even harder when Ross makes you laugh as you go about the place and you keep forgetting what it is that you’re looking for.

“Hey, you better not forget these,” he jokes, grabbing a bag of potatoes that he ends up placing in your basket.

It’s hard hugging Ross goodbye after you come back from the shops and put everything away together, but it makes you so incredibly happy to know that it feels normal again—your arms around each other feel like finding your way back home after getting lost on the way.

You go to bed feeling content, the smell of him lingers on your pillows and you nuzzle your face on them with a loopy smile on your face.

It is when you wake up and go downstairs for breakfast that you properly feel giddy, though, because your mum tells you she called Ross’ mum and they had agreed to have Christmas dinner together.

A loud kiss is smacked on your mum’s cheek at the news and she smirks as she looks at your dad when you run to the kitchen to see if you had all the ingredients to make some type of dessert, leaving your coffee to get cold on the dining table.

Having the MacDonalds over is a joy, as per usual, with Ross’ mum being the loveliest person ever and Ross’ dad making you all laugh hysterically, dinner goes wonderfully.

Everything’s tasty, warm in your bellies and your hearts with the hours you all spend together. Nothing feels more right than this very moment.

And then your mum springs up her chair and calls, “Time for pictures!”

Just like you’ve known to do since the very first time, you and Ross move to the bottom of the stairs right beneath where your mum always hangs the mistletoe. The sight makes Ross smile brightly, his eyes crinkling at the edges and dimples pinching his cheeks beautifully.

Your mum frowns at her film count on display as she takes the camera close to her face, “I’ve got one in here, so I’ll take the first and then go get another pack of film to take the rest.”

You bite your tongue not to smile too brightly when it reminds you of a certain moment, years ago.

As your mum takes the camera up to her eyes, Ross wraps an arm tightly around your waist, fingers digging on your clothed flesh as he presses you flush to his side. You wrap an arm around his waist and just as you’re about to rest your head on his shoulder to pose for the camera, your heart begs you to do something else.

You turn to look at him and pucker your lips to press them on his cheek. Your mum captures just the moment bliss breaks out on his face, melting his smile into a parted mouth as he exhales a sigh in content at the feeling of your lips on his skin.

The second the whirring of the polaroid printing out sounds, you pull back and he peels his eyes open to look at you with adoration, or so you think from the way his brown eyes gleam as he looks into yours.

You have to separate when your mum walks in between you to run upstairs to get some more film, all the while she’s shaking the just printed picture in her hand.

Suddenly, Ross blinks and he’s back in 2006, when your mum was making a mess upstairs as she looked for a new pack of film and he finally got the courage to cup your face and actually kiss you under the mistletoe like he had been wanting for so long.

It’s a memory that flashes on both your minds in that moment, and it’s written all over your faces.

Your mouth parts in anticipation and he carefully brings up his hands to your face, holding it delicately as he starts leaning in.

It’s stupid, and maybe way too fast on his part but he can’t have you looking all beautiful standing in front of him and under the mistletoe and not kiss you. You’re magnetising and he can’t fight the power you have over him, he’s so entranced he just wants you close.

This time it is different, it feels more intense. Not desperate, because the second your lips meet in the middle, it’s not like you lose control and try to quicken the kiss. It just feels way more intent, it’s deliberate and with so much more meaning now. You have each other back and the pieces of the puzzle fall into place perfectly just like the slotting of your lips together.

You’re the one to deepen the kiss as your tongue pokes out to tease his bottom lip and you lick into his mouth when he parts it to welcome you.

A hum reverberates through his chest when you taste each other, and he swallows a soft moan that you let out at the feeling of his beard brushing against the soft skin of your face as you two move rhythmically in a kiss that leaves you dazed.

When Ross pulls back, your breaths mix as you pant out, lips so close together, noses brushing. He drops one last peck on your lips before saying, “Had to do it properly.”

Your mum’s footsteps echo through the hall as she dashes back downstairs with a new film pack in her camera, ready to snap away.

In the pictures you can clearly see your swollen wet lips, but no one comments on it when your mum lets you two see the results of the quick photoshoot she’s just thrown for the two of you. Heat rushes up to your face, just like Ross'. You almost wanna coo and pinch his cheeks at the sight of him flustered like that.

It’s fair to say you’re both incredibly smiley when you go back to the dining room to share hot chocolate and the cookies you had made earlier. You half regret not making the same ones you had made the year you had met Ross, but it’s all fine when Ross says, “Delicious as always, sweetheart.”

You wanna pounce on his lips when he finally goes back to calling you that again.

There’s no way you can stop your lips from falling into a pout when it’s time for Ross and his parents to go. You almost want to convince them to stay a bit longer but you already had and they’d stayed an additional hour than they’d planned.

Ross’ mum and dad hug you tightly, wishing you a merry Christmas and saying that they hope you like your present, as if you haven’t loved every single one they’ve ever given you throughout the years.

When it’s time for Ross to hug you, he makes it a show of almost crushing your bones as he does so. Swaying in your place, your parents laugh behind you as the two of you cling onto each other like you haven’t done in years.

Neither set of parents have it in them to tease or complain because they’ve missed witnessing it.

But perhaps, the biggest shock of all is that when Ross pulls back after wishing you a merry Christmas, he presses his lips on yours on a sweet chaste kiss that makes the four adults around you loudly gasp and, therefore, make you and Ross become flustered like a pair of kids caught holding hands in the playground.

And just like a kid, Ross peels himself away from you and quickly escapes back home with his parents following behind him, leaving you foolishly stunned and wide eyed.

When the front door finally closes, it is your mum saying, “Finally!” that makes you snap out of your trance.

The loopy smile stays on your face as you open presents, though.

Blindly, you pick up your phone when it rings on your bedside table the next morning. You don’t even read who it is as you answer it so your shock makes you open your eyes wide when you hear Ross’ voice on the other side of the line.

He says he’s been texting you to ask if you wanted to hang out, and truthfully you just wanna sleep in a little longer, but you also wanna have his presence.

Who says you couldn’t have both?

You let him know he can come over, whispering as you tell him to ring you when he’s outside because your house is quiet as your parents still sleep.

He surprises you when he says he’s already at your door.

With your eyes still heavy with sleep, you make it downstairs, still in your pyjamas, and when you open the door, you grab his hand to drag him upstairs and into your room.

There’s not even a chance for him to greet you with a hello when you get back in bed and lift the sheets on the empty side for him to get under them and join you.

Ross doesn’t take more than a few seconds to take off his shoes and shed himself off his coat, getting in your bed and wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you into him and let you cuddle yourself into him.

You basically sleep until your stomach growls as you become hungrier the more you’ve been ignoring it most of the morning, pushing aside your basic human needs to stay a little longer in Ross’ arms.

He brings you the cookies that were left from yesterday in a little plate and a glass of water, at your request, whilst you go to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

When you come back into your room, you shove one cookie into your mouth before starting your gift show and tell.

A warmth spreads through the both of you as you show him the most mundane and unimpressive gifts you’ve gotten, except for the pretty little necklace his parents got you of course, but it makes you laugh how since the last time you had done this, your presents went from an iPod mini, books and pretty dresses, to a pair of fuzzy socks and a set of floral pattern baking utensils.

You finish getting ready after you show him your presents, and he watches your every move attentively from your bed, which he has made very quickly before throwing himself over it again.

He grabs a pillow and places it over his eyes when you go to lift up your pyjama shirt, it’s not like you haven’t changed in front of the other before, but it’s been so long that he feels the need to offer you privacy.

He hears you snort at him as you sort through your wardrobe for a shirt, a jumper and a pair of jeans. And he smiles into the pillow when you mumble, “Silly,” as you finish buttoning your jeans.

“You can look now,” you say as you finish putting your shirt on.

And Ross catches a glimpse of the skin of your stomach when he lowers the pillow back onto the mattress.

He shifts from his side to his front to hide the way you affect him. He would’ve put the pillow on his lap but it would’ve been too obvious. He hopes he has a second to adjust himself without you looking when you’re about to leave.

You offer him the biggest of smiles before turning to look at yourself in the mirror and fixing your hair, putting a bit of makeup on your face to look decent for when you go to exchange gifts with your friends at Matty’s house.

Ross is entirely entranced watching you through the mirror, he can’t stop thinking about how he’s always thought you were pretty. But somehow, with time, you’ve only grown more and more beautiful.

As if that was even possible.

You’re just unreal, truly. He can’t understand the mystery of you. And he doesn’t really need to, all he wishes to do is to witness it.

When you go downstairs, Ross follows behind a bit slower since he stayed hidden behind your door adjusting himself for a few seconds while you went ahead, you shout to your parents that you’ll be going to Ross’ and then Matty’s so you’d probably come back home after tea.

They say, “Alright, have fun!” back and you’re off.

But not before Ross catches your wrist before you can walk away from the bottom of the stairs.

You stumble into his chest and he swiftly cups your jaw, tilting your head in the perfect angle for him to lean in and catch your lips in a soft kiss that steals your breath away. It’s slow and delicate, like he’s taking in the way your lips slot perfectly together, trying to memorise how your mouths move with each other.

You’re speechless when he pulls back, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth before he points upwards, “Mistletoe.”

A scoff slips past your lips. “Didn’t know you were such a rule follower,” you tease. He’s so smooth it makes you want to scream.

He shrugs, “Depends on the rule.”

Despite the fact that you assure Ross’ mum that you’ve had breakfast—Ross snitches on you saying it was just cookies and a glass of water—, you’re fed a healthy amount of leftovers for breakfast the second you walk into the MacDonald’s home.

Only thirty minutes later, you’re upstairs in Ross’ room with a mug of hot chocolate as he shows off the gifts he got this year. Which, again, makes you laugh because it’s yet again more proof about the fact that you’re too old now and all you get is adult gifts.

You can’t help but snort when he shows off the beanie and scarf your parents got him, but ultimately admit he looks adorable all bundled up in the matching cotton set.

He wears the beanie proudly when you both walk up to Matty’s, while you have the scarf wrapped around your neck after you quickly snatched it from his room before leaving his house.

When you get to the Healy residence, it’s enough of a shock to see the two of you arriving at the same time. George is the one to ask with a frown if you had walked up there together and you nod with smiles on your faces.

Matty elbows Adam when he notices your accessories match.

The curly headed boy really tries his best to hide his curiosity but he can only last fifteen minutes into the catch up you’ve all fallen into before he asks, “Where’s your boyfriend?”

It’s a shock when you nonchalantly answer, “Oh, we broke up.”

And even more of a shock when you beam after the words leave your mouth.

Ross smiles just as big, proud of you for being so strong about that situation. No one really knows about it and it shows. Yes, you had been confiding in Matty about your struggles feeling extremely lonely in uni but you had never told him the reality about your boyfriend, knowing damn well how it looked that you got into that relationship because you were so desperate to feel something.

You had so much to tell everyone, but this wasn’t the time. Not yet.

The change in the dynamic between you and Ross is obvious, especially after consecutive years of clear, growing distance in between the two of you. But no one comments on it because they don’t want to disturb the return of a friendship that had been, from the very beginning, the core of the unity of your friend group. Even if the girls aren’t here celebrating with all of you anymore, Ross and you had been the ones to bring all of you together once upon a time, and it’s certainly refreshing for the boys to see that restored.

So when the New Year’s Eve party comes around, the group is a little more rowdy and you and Ross don’t stray far from each other’s side.

It might be because it feels like you’re all back in 2006 when you were still in high school and nothing had changed just yet, that Matty and George cause more and more ruckus. It’s certainly entertaining to watch but when George is stopped by a drunk Hann from doing a frontflip from the top of the stairs, and possibly breaking his bones, Ross pulls you outside for some peace and quiet as it’s really close to midnight.

The cold air makes you shiver and sobers you up a little, but god bless Ross MacDonald for offering you a cigarette then.

You place it between your lips and let him light it up, he struggles a bit with the strong wind but you help him by cupping your hands around the end of the stick.

Taking a long drag, you let the smoke in your lungs start to relax you and bring you the warmth you so desperately want right now.

The mess going on inside is still loud despite Ross closing the door, and suddenly, the memory of that 2006 New Year’s Eve night comes flashing back to the forefront of your mind.

“This is giving me some serious déjà vu,” you say as you hold in the smoke for a few seconds before letting it out upwards.

He knows exactly what you mean, he’s been thinking about it from the second you stepped foot in the house, but he still plays dumb, “Hmmm, really?”

You nod, taking a drag before saying, “Yeah. If I remember correctly, it was 2006 and we had come out to escape a very drunk Matty and George thrashing everything inside so we could have a calm countdown. We were sharing a fag, and the countdown started.”

As if rehearsed, you hear drunk voices loudly starting to countdown from ten inside the house.

Ten, nine, eight…

“And?” Ross pushes you to continue.

Biting your bottom lip, you try your best to hold back from smirking as you casually add, “And I said happy new year.”

He hums, “Not forgetting something?”

“Am I?” you play dumb, holding the cigarette between your fingers as you look at him.

Seven, six, five, four…

He turns to look at you, taking one little step towards you to invade your space, and nods, “I reckon, yeah.”

Your brows furrow and you cock your head to the side as you feign confusion.

“Mind refreshing my memory?”

You don’t have to tell him twice.

He pounces on your lips harshly, and it’s this time that desperation shines through the movement of his mouth on yours. His tongue doesn’t waste a second to slip past your parted lips and he groans when he tastes the tart tobacco on your tongue along with the vodka cranberry you’ve been having all night.

His trimmed beard itches your skin in a way that drives you mad and you can only think about how you would really like to get used to it. Your mind betrays you thinking about how it could feel brushing between your thighs, your arms swing around his neck and your fingers run up his scalp, making him moan into your mouth.

Three, two, one…

Your lungs burn with the lack of oxygen and you pull back, panting, but a smirk doesn’t fail to break on your face and you breathlessly quip, “Ah yes, I remember now.”

Your cheekiness has him groaning again before he dips back for another kiss, his arm wrapped so tightly around your waist that you’re pressed impossibly close to his front, you cling onto him just as passionately and let everything you’re feeling in the moment show through the way your mouth moves along with his.

Revelling in the taste of him, the feel of him.

The two of you tune out the loud drunk voices wishing each other a happy new year on the other side of the door.

“Happy New Year, sweetheart,” he says against your mouth when he pulls back slightly.

Your breaths mix, becoming one as you try to get back oxygen into your lungs. Your nails dig into his scalp, wishing for there to be a way for you to melt into him. You can think of a few ways you can even come close to becoming one with him.

Your pupils are blown when you open your eyes and look into his, “Happy New Year, Ross.”

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The pride that swells your chest every time Ross sends you a picture of a place he and the boys are touring is impossible to explain with words.

You burst into tears every time you talk about your talented boys travelling around the world after the hit their debut album had been. The scolding you got for missing a day of work to go up to Manchester and celebrate their first number one album was definitely worth it, for celebrating their talent and the success they deserved was one of the best fucking days of your life.

After a few months of touring, the boys have finally come back home for the holidays. The 17th of December they played their last gig of the tour in some festival in Virginia, and on the 18th they had come back to their shared flat in Manchester.

So you were up in Manchester too.

“Love, you need to dial it down on the speed,” you tell Ross when you come back into the kitchen after taking your stuff to Ross’ room.

The second you got to the flat, you had been greeted with loads of hugs and kisses from the boys and far too many stories for you to hear in one afternoon. Your bag had been left forgotten by the door where you dropped it when George came running to crush you in a hug that you welcomed gracefully, and then the rest of them followed.

Ross had been quite distracting with the amount of kisses he stole before the guys gagged enough times to have him leave you alone and then they took you to the settee where they sat you down and told you all about the tour.

But then Adam’s girlfriend came over and they went off on a date, George went out to meet his girlfriend at a restaurant, and Matty was off to his parent’s house to visit them and little Louis who had been missing him loads.

That was when Ross finally had you all to himself, and despite the fact that he was itching to get you in his room, he hadn’t been able to say no to baking cookies with you first.

The same cookies you had made him and his family the day he gave you the potatoes back on Christmas day 2002. It just felt right to choose that recipe in particular.

Ross frowns as he looks at the mixer quickly, maybe too quickly, mixing the sugar and butter together, “Why? It’ll be over faster and we can go to my room.”

The smirk on his face makes you chuckle, and you shake your head as you walk up to him. “Oh, you’re awfully confident,” you tut before wrapping your arms around his neck.

He wraps his arms around your waist and dips his head to kiss you but you pull back slightly, he raises his brows in question, “Thought you had missed me.”

“I did,” you assure, your eyes falling to his lips, but you pull back again when he dips down for a kiss once more. You love to tease him you’ve found ever since you got together at the beginning of the year, and so you do, “But I think you missed me more, didn’t you?”

With that voice of yours, it’s impossible for him to deny it. He fights a groan but lets his hands fall slowly down your waist and lower back to your ass and there, he squeezes harshly as he says, “I certainly did.”

You swallow a moan but the hunger in your eyes is clear and a mirror of his, but before you can get too carried away, you let your hands run down his chest and you pat it twice before demanding, “Okay, stop it. Let’s finish this first.”

“Alright, sweetheart,” he agrees easily.

Just because it’s you. It’s hard for him to be stubborn when it’s you.

When the cookies are in the oven, he tries to distract you with those kisses of his that leave you breathless and needy, but you really have to remind yourself of the danger it would entail if you let yourself fall into your boyfriend’s charms and leave the cookies to burn.

It’s only when all three batches of them are out and on the cooling rack, which Ross definitely bought just for the times you came around and wanted to bake, that you and Ross run off to his room and make up for the time you’ve spent apart.

That’s how most of the days that you’re back together go: either tangled in between the sheets, indulging in each other’s touch and letting the devotion you feel for the other translate in your bodies becoming one, or cuddling as you watch film after film—or rewatching the three seasons of Game of Thrones, which he’s certainly obsessed with, and you definitely tease him about how much you fancy Jon Snow as if he doesn’t resemble him.

You go Christmas shopping together but split for an hour in the middle of your afternoon to buy each other your gifts, coming back giggling as you hide your gifts from the other but definitely try to guess what you’ve got as you go back to the flat.

The best time is when you’re all getting ready to go back to Wilmslow, like a big happy family you take up every seat in Matty’s car and it’s a chaotic thirty minute drive that makes your heart swell inside your chest.

The afternoon of the 24th, it is starting to snow outside and you two are cosied up on the settee with a shitty American Christmas film playing in the background as you go through your pictures throughout the years.

“Ross, look at you!” you coo loudly when you find a polaroid of him with a birthday hat on which is dated June 6th 2003. “A baby!”

He grimaces at the look of his long hair, styled to the side of his forehead and brushed down and straight like a cow had licked it, “Ugh, that’s a mess.”

You scoff and chat back, “No, you were so cute,” before going back to pouting over the picture of him.

He hadn’t started growing proper facial hair yet and he looked like a baby after he had shaved the patchy beard he always got back then. Nostalgia hits you as you remember how cute you thought he was back then and you still do. Somehow, your crush on your boyfriend only gets stronger with time.

“‘Were’?” he questions you with a raise of his brows.

You want to laugh at him for sticking to that bit of your words but swallow it to tease, “Yeah, ‘were’.”

A screech leaves you when his fingers come to mercilessly tickle your sides and you thrash around the settee as he comes to hover over you and continue his attack.

It’s a mix of shrieks and cackles and begs for him to stop that fill the room and overpower the sound of Will Ferrell’s voice, the pictures have all spilled on the floor as you kicked your legs and waved your arms around helplessly.

“Baby, stop!” you beg again and this time he listens, leaning in to press a bunch of kisses all over your face before pulling back and helping you sit back up on the settee.

The two of you start gathering the pictures from the floor then and sorting them through the years. But it is then that you notice the gap in between years, when you had been so foolish to ruin things all because of your bitterness.

The sorrowful words leave you as you flip through the handful of pictures from 2006 and the clear difference with only the few from 2007 and then the lack of them from 2008 to 2011. “So many years with no pictures…”

Ross blames it on him though, “I was an idiot.”

But you won’t let him take the blame all on his own, “Oh babe, I was too.”

He smiles sadly at the pictures but when he looks at you, his smile grows wider, “We’ll make up for it.”

His hand brushes your hair behind your ears and you nod, agreeing, “Definitely,” before kissing the palm of his hand softly.

Your boyfriend’s face melts in adoration and his voice drops an octave as he speaks, “I’m never letting you go, you know that right?”

The stupidest smile tugs at the corners of your mouth then before you reply, “I wouldn’t dream of ever leaving.”

Carefully setting the pictures aside, he shuffles closer to you and kisses you soft and sweet. His lips move on your with the same intent that his fingers dig into your cheeks.

Your hands come over his, wanting to keep his touch there, for him to never stop holding you like this and he confirms that he’ll never even think of doing it when he pulls back and mumbles against your lips, “I love you so much, sweetheart.”

The fluttering in your belly and the electricity that buzzes through you never dwindles, no matter how many times you hear him say that.

Nothing’s been easier and felt more natural in your life than saying it back, “Love you so much more, babe.”

You love telling him how much you love him and you love even more seeing his cheeks tint pink when he hears you say it. He always struggles maintaining eye contact after you let it slip past your lips like he can’t help but become putty in your hands when you utter those three words to him.

And you can’t help but giggle at the effect you have on him.

He basically throws himself forward and hides his face in your neck, but he forgets his size and strength for he makes you tumble backwards and fall on the settee with him over you, stealing your breath away.

He doesn’t move when you groan about him crushing you, he only nuzzles in your neck more and you just let it happen. Having him on top of you is your favourite feeling in the world after all, so you just let him melt over you and you even bring your hands up to his head, scratching his head and massaging his scalp. He moans and groans, getting you all flustered in the process.

You can hear his breathing evening out and his heartbeat becoming more regular, so you know he’s about to fall asleep and you smile at the thought of falling asleep like this right now, but the front door opens and your parents walk back into the house with a handful of bags each.

“Did you buy everything mum?” you ask like you have every year since the potato fiasco in 2002.

“Yes,” she calls back with an annoyed sigh like every year.

But you keep taunting her, “Didn’t forget a thing?”

She indulges you as she sing-songs, “Not one.”

You hum, continuing to play with Ross’ hair, “How about the potatoes?”

Ross smirks at your taunting and shakes his head. But then your mum tiredly answers from the kitchen, “They’re here, who do you think I–...”

The trailing off has you and Ross holding your breaths, and then you hear your mum’s loud cursing, “Oh bollocks!”

And the two of you can’t stop the cackles that leave you.

Trying to speak in between laughter is hard and your mum can barely make out your words when you ask, “Did you forget the potatoes?”

“Yeah…”

Tears spill from your eyes as you continue to laugh, “You’ve got something against them I swear, woman.”

“Could you go get some, please?” your mum asks, seeing that there’s still some time left before the shops close down.

You sigh tiredly but actually give in, “Sure.”

Ross leans in and kisses your lips softly and, unfortunately, very briefly.

“Don’t worry. I got it,” he whispers against your mouth, a hint of cockiness in his tone that makes you smirk and play along to what he’s trying to do.

“Will you take some Christmas cookies in exchange for them?” your fingers continue playing with his hair, but you pout to try and play onto the pity you want him to take on you.

He hums like he’s thinking about it but he settles for something else, “Actually, I’ll take a kiss.”

“Just one?” you question with your brows raised.

He gasps like it’s a miracle you’re offering more than one, “Oh well, if you’re feeling generous.”

Your fingers trail down the sides of his face until you can rub circles on his cheeks with your thumbs, “Christmas is all about giving, isn’t it?”

The words echo inside his mind, and he smirks harder knowing what he’s meant to say, “I guess it is.”

A breathy chuckle leaves you, and he steals it by smashing your lips together. Every time he kisses you, you lose track of time and everything around you loses its meaning. You’re completely blinded by him, overcome by his existence, full of everything he has to give you.

Unfortunately, you can’t continue losing yourself in him for your mum shouts from the kitchen, “Oi! Go get the potatoes, you two!”

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

A/N:  This was actually so much fun to plot but a bit tricky to write, so I truly hope you enjoyed the final product!! Kinda wishing I wrote more holiday themed fics now, but I promise I'll try to bring more of them soon, as many as my heart can take lol. I'll take this opportunity to thank you for reading and sending in your reactions, for accompanying me through this crazy year. Love yous so much and I wish you all the happiest new year!!! MWAHHH xxxx

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 @poisonmedaddy13 @k4tie75

[alovesreading]

Be My Mistake

Summary: Under the influence, Matty makes one of his biggest mistakes which ends up with him losing you. And now there’s nothing more to do, other than deal with the heartache and pick up the pieces. 

Word Count: 7.1k 

Warnings: cheating, use of substances, substance abuse, rehab. 

A/N: Hi!! I'm so excited to be posting this, even though is a heartbreaking one. I had been wanting to write a oneshot based on this song for so long so after watching La La Land for the millionth time one day, I finally felt in the right mood to do it. I hope I did it justice lol. Let me know what you think! Hope you enjoy! Happy reading!

Masterlist

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

You were a dream anyone would be too stubborn to let go of, refusing to let themselves wake up and pushing their heads further into the pillows in hopes to carry on with it. But just the same way everyone fails to resume said dream, Matty couldn't keep his mistakes from ruining the most precious thing he'd ever had.

The way ink can't be fully cleaned once it's spilled. The way a snowball rolling down a hill can become huge and fatal.

Matty remembered when it all went down. It had been unusually warm outside, sky clear and enough wind to deem the weather 'perfect'. But it was completely different inside your flat. He felt freezing cold as he watched you crumble in front of him. Your cheeks stained as your eyeliner ran down with endless tears, your nose red and your eyes puffy.

He hated seeing you cry, so he was crying with you. He had told you about the night before, how he had succumbed to temptation and gotten too high to even remember what had happened — he just knew he woke up beside someone else, clothes all over the floor of a hotel room that was definitely not his.

You had asked if he'd lied about going out with his mates, if it had been a regular occurrence and he had shook his head earnestly. The last thing Matty remembered was Jamie asking him if he had ordered an Uber already to get home, to which he had lied and said yes.

His only plan was to stay and drink a little more, even if it felt pathetic to do so by himself. Matty remembered a girl approaching him and making conversation, and he knew he was a tad too tipsy by then. That's why he had found it easier to say yes to sharing some lines of coke and heroin in the bathroom, but after that he couldn't remember anything.

Matty's heart sank with every word, his voice breaking as he recounted the night and blurred images of the stranger and him in bed flashed through his mind.

And you had cried, knowing the only one who could bring you comfort was the one breaking your soul apart. You were desperately trying to find answers within yourself, as if you could figure out his mind about the situation just like you had always done before.

But this time, there was no way you could read his mind. This was your worst nightmare, and nothing could've prepared you for it. You'd never imagined you would be going through all this with him, not with Matty.

Because it had been that for so long, Matty and you.

You had been one of the first talent scouts that had shown interest for the band, and even though the label you worked for hadn't finalized any agreements with them, you had kept constant contact with them.

Eventually you went from acquaintance to friend, and then to a very close friend to them all. Until one day, under the influence of several joints, Matty had told you he really wanted to kiss you. And after that kiss, it was as if your names had been welded together.

You had been there for the other, through it all. Everyone would say how you were perfect for one another, how you were meant to be. Four years you had been together, and you had really thought the same as everyone else.

And Matty thought he knew love, because he loved you, but what did he truly know then if he'd done that to you?

It had taken you half an hour to get all your important things in a suitcase that rolled beside you as you walked towards the door. Matty was still frozen, sat on a chair in the living room, and his words tangled in his throat when you sniffled and opened the door.

"Fuck you Matthew." was the last thing you said to him, and it echoed louder in his head than the door slamming behind you as you left.

Just like that you were gone.

When he managed to gather his thoughts and he made his way to your room, it hit him what he had done. The closet was half empty, the bathroom seemed deserted without all your bottles laying around, your favorite book was gone, no necklaces were spilled on your bedside table.

You were gone but remained in every single one of his belongings, pictures of you two still on the walls, the vinyl you got him still beside the turntable, your scent lingered in the air. The mirror you had picked out for the room, the walls painted your favorite color. You were engraved in everything.

Matty couldn't stay in the bedroom for longer, he felt like he was going to be sick. So he went to the kitchen and called George, praying that he would let him stay over. And he did, so with barely anything in a small bag, he got a taxi to his best friend's house.

The second George opened the door, he broke down in his arms. Panic had settled inside the drummer, as Matty kept mumbling between sobs.

George had him breathe with him, slowly and controlled until he managed to settle down enough to make out what was going on. And when the words finally slipped past Matty's lips and he could make out what he said, he'd had a hard time believing it all.

"What?! That's gotta be a joke innit? You're just taking the piss right?" his questions sounded like a beg, because he adored you both. And as much as Matty was like his brother, he would be fuming if what he had just said was true.

Matty sobbed as he shook his head, "Do I fucking look like I'm fucking joking George?!" he felt defeated as he heard the hostility of his tone and he could only sob harder as he mumbled apologies to his best friend.

George held him as he cried, feeling pity for him but anger was overcoming him at the same time.

Once Matty had passed out on the guest bedroom, George had debated within himself if it would be good to call you. Would it be too much to call and make sure you were alright? He knew the story already from his best friend so he didn't want to know more of that, he just wanted to make sure you were safe.

So George called you and it only took your weak "Hello?" to feel his heart break for you.

He had let you rant to him, and he listened as his silent tears fell. He felt so useless stuck in the middle, fuming at Matty for fucking up something so beautiful and for ruining a person who was nothing but sunshine.

"Please George, I wanna know if I deserve this? Did I do something wrong? Should I have done something different? Maybe I should've gone out with you lot, maybe I should've canceled on my cousin to go along with you. Maybe—"

"Y/N/N, sweetheart, you did nothing wrong okay? You're not the one to blame here, please don't do that to yourself."

"But then why, George? Why?!"

Your desperation ripped a sob from your throat, and it had burned to let it out. George had to bite his lip to not sob himself, he would do anything to take your pain away. He had no answers for you either, and as you kept crying, he wasn't sure what to do to try and fix anything that was in his power.

So all he could do was promise you that he'd keep Matty for as long as he could the next day, so you could finish getting all your stuff from the flat.

And the next afternoon, when the curly headed man made it back to his flat — it was just his now, not yours —, he felt his blood running cold. Your key was on top of the kitchen table, there was framed artwork missing from the walls — the ones you had gotten and were your favorites. Your silly little ceramic decorations no longer sat on top of his furniture. All of your vinyl gone, as well as your vhs film collection.

When Matty got to the bedroom, his knees failed him and he fell to the ground beside the bed. The shirt you'd been wearing the day before, which was his, freshly washed and folded on top of the duvet; and resting on top of it was the ring he'd got you for your fourth anniversary, next to it the locket necklace he'd gotten you for your birthday, the first one you celebrated as a couple.

You never took those off so that felt like a slap, a stab and a gunshot, all at the same time. He had ruined it all, that night would forever be the biggest mistake and regret of his life.

Weeks had gone by and it was like the world was completely different. Making music was the only thing that pushed Matty to wake up in the morning so in order to feel like he had a sliver of purpose, he stayed cooped up in the studio.

The lads were angry at him, they didn't ignore him but he could feel their distaste towards what he'd done. Matty knew they kept in touch with you, having caught fragments of conversations between you and them on the phone multiple times. But he didn't feel any resentment towards them, if he was in that situation, he'd choose to side with you as well.

Regardless, it stung, the way he felt like he had no one.

And that feeling of loneliness had brought him to make another insanely stupid decision: he called the girl.

Kendall was her name, and he only remembered the fact because she had texted him when he was on his way back to your flat that awful morning.

The second she picked up and greeted him with insinuation in her voice, Matty regretted the thought ever crossing his mind. It was too late to hang up though, so he kept the small talk in the most uninterested tone and ended the call right after they arranged a meeting place.

After that night, Matty had felt the guilt wash over him once more. But it was the feeling of someone actually needing him in any way for the first time in weeks, that overshadowed the disgust he had for himself.

That's why he had kept this secret agreement with the girl, because it was the loneliness getting to him. He kept telling himself that, every night.

Matty had lost count of how many times he'd taken the same steps as if this deal had a schedule. He'd go up to the receptionist and check in whatever suite they had available, he would go up to the room and lay in the bed as he cried while staring at the ceiling, and then he'd text her the room number but tell her not to wait outside — he'd always ask her to wait for him at the hotel bar.

The first few nights she had tried to make him laugh as they drank, but Matty had tuned her out and afterwards he just decided to have them drink separately. He'd felt bad for the way he was treating her, but she liked this play of mysteriousness — it somehow got her going.

So he would sit and drink alone now, in the furthest corner of the bar, slouching as he swished his drink around the glass. He wouldn't stop drinking until he'd lost count, and that's when he'd decide to go upstairs.

The singer would usually nod his head with his eyes stuck on her, a sign that meant he was going up and for her to follow after him in a few minutes.

When she knocked on the door, Matty was always smoking on the balcony. The smell of cigarettes followed him as he opened the door for her.

It didn't take them long for their clothes to end up scattered around the floor. The girl was pretty, Matty couldn't deny that, not when his body reacted like it did to her naked complexion; but it was nothing compared to the way you would make him feel.

Even with a hundred layers of clothing on, you'd leave him breathless. His knees got weak at the sight of you, from the very first moment he'd seen you and he was sure that it'd be the same until his final days.

To beat his thoughts, Matty forced his hands to be fast and his feet to take them to bed as soon as they could, so his need for release would scream louder than his subconscious shaming him for his actions. Some nights they'd even do some lines before getting to their main purpose, it helped when he was fully gone, he felt less guilty.

But for some reason that night felt the worst, a knot formed in his throat when he came back down from his second orgasm. Kendall had noticed something shift in the air so she scooted close to him and rested her chin on his chest, but he didn't look at her, his eyes were stuck on the big light burning his corneas.

"You alright?" she'd asked with a hint of worry, but when she was met with pure silence she decided to tease him to get at least a reaction from him. "Do you want a cuddle?"

He looked down with a frown, a smirk was plastered on her face and he wanted nothing but to put as much distance as he could between them.

"No, I don't want a cuddle." his voice was sharp, and she tensed at the bitterness in his tone. "Let's just sleep."

The girl chuckled awkwardly and turned to her side of the bed. He caught a whiff of her hair's scent and his heart dropped when the sensory memory of you came to the front of his mind.

Jasmine and lilies. Her hair smelled exactly the same as your feet.

Matty remembered the endless times he'd grab your lotion and give you a foot massage after a long day of work, and he sounds you'd make from the pleasure of his work on your sore limbs. And how those moments would almost always end in you two tangled up in bed, chanting each other's names as if it was a prayer, like the loudest you'd get for the other would bring you closer to the chance of seeing heaven.

In the past four years, there was not one day when he'd refuse to hold someone or let that someone hold him. But that was because it was you, Y/N. He used to hold you like a devoted christian holds a crucifix to their heart, desperately and passionately — like you were his lifeline. He'd refuse to let go of you, even if you used to stir like crazy in your sleep — he would move along with you with his arms firmly around your frame, and your legs always intertwined together.

Matty felt his tears making a path through his temples until they fell on the pillow. He turned around, his back to the girl beside him, and he forced his eyes closed.

"Can you turn out the big light?" his inquiry sounded weak, his voice was a single thread from breaking as the tears kept falling and wetting the pillow under his head.

He felt her stand up and comply, going to the bathroom and then coming back after a minute. He probably should've done the same but he couldn't be arsed, he hated himself and he had no motivation to do anything at all.

When Matty woke up and absorbed his surroundings, his hangover got worse, his heartache multiplied and he was sure he deserved the title of the worst person on earth.

Kendall was still there, sleeping peacefully like his whole world wasn't crumbling down around them. It sure felt like that to him, like the end of times.

He ran to the bathroom when he felt everything he'd consumed the night before rising up his throat. The loud noises woke up the girl who had scrunched up her nose at the gagging.

"Yikes." she mumbled, rising to her feet and getting ready to leave.

Matty had come out of the bathroom as pale as ever, and went straight for his clothes. He only wanted to leave the room as soon as he could, he couldn't keep this going anymore.

He dressed himself as he thought about which way would be best to approach the situation until her voice interrupted him.

"Where are those jeans from? I love them."

She seemed so relaxed as she watched him, leaning on her elbows on top of the messy bed sheets.

He let out a humorless chuckle, melancholic as he replied, "Dunno, Y/N got them for me."

She shrugged, not caring about who that person was and just as she was about to ask him for the date of their next rendezvous, Matty cut her off.

"Look, this has to stop." he said absentmindedly as he sat on a loveseat to tie his shoes. "You're a smart girl so, I reckon you won't be going around telling this to your mates. Don't make me have you sign an NDA."

She snorted, "Fair enough, this will be our dirty little secret then." The smirk she had on her face only made him want to crawl into a hole and never come out.

Matty shook his head, unamused. "Don't–"

"It was fun while it lasted." she added, cutting him off and jumping to her feet.

Kendall grabbed her purse from the floor, and then walked up to him. He frowned when he saw her leaning in and froze when she pressed a kiss to his lips.

"Thanks for the shag, Matty." she winked and proceeded to leave the room.

The sound of the door closing snapped something inside him, and he went back running to the bathroom to be sick again.

When he flushed the toilet, he screamed. Like he was getting murdered.

Matty truly couldn't care less for whoever was in the rooms next to him or if they'd heard him. He felt pure rage inside of him and he had no idea about what he should do.

He yelled as he cried, tiring himself out until he got a knock on the door and was asked by the hotel staff to either stop or to leave the premises.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." he kept apologizing between sobs, "I– I was about to check out. I need to check out." he said as he walked to the lifts, the tears barely letting him see the way.

Behind a pair of sunglasses he hid as he dropped the keys to the receptionist, giving her a fake smile as she wished him a good day.

Fuck that.

When Matty got back to the flat, he made a beeline to the shower. He scrubbed his skin raw, as if that would help him feel better about himself.

And as he banged his fists against the shower walls, he continued yelling. He was sure he would lose his voice, but the ache wasn't enough to distract him from the way it felt like his heart was malfunctioning.

After changing, he had decided to open wine bottles and let the alcohol lull him to sleep. He hoped for a long deep sleep, but as he finished the second bottle and his eyes refused to close, he chose to call you.

Y/N.

Your contact picture tore his heart apart a little more. Your smile beaming at him behind the camera, you were opening presents in the morning of Christmas day and you just looked too adorable waiting for him to open his present.

Why had he been so stupid?

Matty pressed 'call' and the phone rang and rang, but you wouldn't pick up. He was filling your voicemail up slowly, his words slurred and broken, his voice so rough that he thought he might've caused some worse damage to his vocal chords than he'd anticipated.

He fell asleep eventually, his phone in his hand but out of battery. His third bottle of wine three quarters empty on the floor beside him. And the long deep sleep he had asked for was interrupted by George opening his front door and coming in at around eleven in the morning.

"Matty what the fuck?"

The singer had grumbled, his cheek pressed against his carpet. He'd fallen asleep on the floor.

"George?"

"Why don't you answer your phone?"

Matty sighed, and rubbed his right eye as he tried to turn his phone on with his other hand. "It's dead."

"Fucks sake. Well get up mate, you need to eat something. You look terrible." the tall man frowned before disappearing into the kitchen, Matty had caught a glimpse of take out bags on both his hands.

He rolled his eyes, "Thanks, G. Very lovely."

The reason George was there was because you had heard every single voice message he'd left her, and your soul had left your body from how worried you were about him. You called George as soon as you got a break from work, you sounded so shaken up that the drummer thought something had happened to you.

"I'll go check on him as soon as I'm done here Y/N/N, I promise."

"Just try and hurry please, G? I don't know if he's taken anything–" you had started to frantically breathe as you talked, you were gonna spiral so he interrupted you.

"Hey, hey. It's okay, I'll be on my way in a bit. Stop worrying about him okay? He doesn't deserve to disrupt your peace after everything he's done, that's why we're there so you don't have to deal with it."

"You know I will never not worry about him G... It's like he's cursed me."

George sighed, completely heartbroken at your state, "I'll text you when I see him, I'm sure he's alright. Just take care of yourself okay?"

You hummed but he could hear you were still agitated. "Okay..."

"Love you, Y/N/N. You're gonna be okay"

"Love you too George, thank you."

That had been about forty minutes before George had shown up, but he would not tell that to Matty. He shouldn't know that you still cared, not from him, it wouldn't be good for either him or yourself.

Matty felt like a kid, George was basically babysitting him now: making sure he was eating enough, filling up a glass with water over and over so he stayed hydrated, plugging his phone to charge, making small talk to keep him distracted.

And he felt even more like a kid when his phone buzzed alive and when he unlocked it to show the drummer some demo he had come up with, it opened on your contact. His voice had died at the sight and at the memory of him calling her tirelessly the day before.

"You shouldn't be calling her, you know?" George's voice sounded reprimanding, "You're only hurting her more when you do that."

Matty could only nod, changing apps and showing George what he had meant but his words were long gone and lost somewhere. The drummer had had to scoop things out from him after that.

When it reached seven in the evening, Matty told George he was just going to sleep. He was knackered, all his energy had drained and if he wanted to go to the studio the day after, he'd need a long rest.

So George left him with a lengthy hug and made him promise to call if anything happened before they saw each other the next day.

Matty went to his ensuite right after he closed the door behind George, washing his face and brushing his teeth slowly to then plop on top of the bed.

It felt so big without you, the room wasn't familiar anymore, the place didn't feel like home.

All the lights were out, so the reflection of his phone blinded him when he picked it up. He had ignored the device for most of the day and he would continue to do that, because he was too tempted to call you again and after what George had told him, he didn't want to keep hurting her. You deserved better than the ache he continued to cause you.

Scrolling through his notifications he found himself laughing at the memes Adam had sent him, sending one to his mum that he thought she'd enjoy.

Denise had found out about what had happened, he had called her crying and apologizing like she was the one also needing to forgive him. As any mum would do, she had consoled him, taking a coach to stay with him for a week just to keep an eye on him, but she had also been firm with him, not downplaying what he had done.

She had taken one of her days in London to visit you, at your best friend's flat where you were staying. And you had cried in Denise's arms for hours, as she rubbed your back and kept telling you it wasn't your fault.

His mum was heartbroken for the two of you, she encouraged Matty to find help in regards to his addiction. "A few lines cost you Y/N," she had said and what a tragedy that was.

When he kept scrolling down his notifications, he found a missed call from you. Just one. And that was enough to startle him like he'd just gotten shocked back to life.

He deflated thinking he had missed the ringing of his phone, meaning he had missed the one and only chance to talk to you — maybe for the last time.

But then he caught a voice message sitting on his voicemail. From you.

He played it instantly, his whole body washing in relief at the sound of your voice.

"Matty?" you had asked softly, and he sighed but then you sniffled and he heard you take a shaky breath before continuing, "Hey, erm, I don't know what's going on but I just–," you cleared your throat when your voice broke. "I hope you're doing okay, don't do anything you will regret okay? There's people who can't lose you for something like this."

'There's people.' Not her.

Matty started crying, trying to keep his sobs down so he could hear you.

"Fuck," you whispered, "That sounds like I don't care but no matter how hard I try to trick myself, the truth is I will always care about you. And I fucking hate that." his heart was shattering more and more as you spoke.

"You know... I loved you Matt. I still do." you sighed, and he could picture you so clearly picking at your cuticles like you always did when you were upset and anxious. "The worst part is that even knowing how it all ends, I'd still do it all over again." You broke down after that, your sobs making him sob and it was like you were crying to each other again in the living room as he told you what he had done.

"But I'm gonna need you to stop calling Matty. And I know how hard that is because, despite it all, the one thing I've been dying to do is call you and hear your voice. But please, I need you to stop." You were begging now and you sounded tired, "You have to let me go, so I can heal. Maybe one day we can be friends again — I hope we can."

Your voice had broken once again and it sounded like you had covered your mouth so your sobs were less audible. "Take care of yourself okay? I want you to promise that you will, make me that last promise Matty..." the line went quiet and he would've thought you were gone if it wasn't for your heavy breathing. It was like you were waiting for him to magically say 'I promise' as you recorded the message. He had started chanting it, as if you could hear him, over and over until your defeated sigh was heard and all you had left to say was, "Goodbye, Matty."

He replayed it several times, until his heart couldn't take you saying the final goodbye anymore.

That night Matty fell asleep crying, and woke up barely being able to see from how swollen his eyes were. He had woken up in the middle of the night after he'd dreamt about you getting married, he had hugged your pillow and fallen back into slumber. Until a nightmare woke him up before his alarm, the image of your body cold and covered in blood after you'd been in an accident stuck in his mind as he got ready for the day.

When he got to the studio, Matty made the decision to keep his promise to you. He felt like he owed it to you. So he made some calls and when the lads arrived, they were met with the news that he'd go to rehab.

They had engulfed him in a massive hug, which made him break down in tears. Matty wasn't sure how long he'd be gone for, or where exactly he was going but he was determined to go through it again and fully commit to getting better.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

It had been almost three months since your life had been shaken up. You had moved to your best friend's house for a little bit before finding a place of your own. It was slowly coming together but small things like getting the post always made you feel like this was actually your home.

There wasn't much, a parcel you had been waiting for and a couple bills. You found yourself surprised at a small envelope that was under everything else, it had an unfamiliar stamp on the top right corner.

Barbados, it said.

Your fingers were quick to open it, inside was only a small usb. No note with a name to give you a clue of what it was.

Curiosity was eating you inside so you almost ran back up to your flat.

You opened the door with too much force, causing it to slam against the wall. After making sure the door was intact, you went to your room and hurried to find your laptop. You cussed when you tried turning it on and realized it was out of battery.

You plugged it in and paced around the bedroom waiting for it to turn on. And when the screen lit up alive, your curiosity turned to nerves. You didn't even know why, but you had a gut feeling and those you never ignored.

When you inserted the usb, the only thing you could see inside it was a video named 'dec. 22nd, 2017'.

Your frown was set hard on your face, it was past the first week of the new year already. What could this be?

All of your questions were answered when you clicked on it and a face you missed was shown on the screen.

Matty looked so different. For a start, the curls you'd adored for years were gone — replaced by a buzzcut that he so effortlessly was pulling off —, his skin looked glowy and he'd ditched his usual vintage band shirts for a light knitted sweater. He looked healthy.

Your heart felt like it was going to burst, from happiness and relief but also from the memory of everything that had gone down.

What was he doing in Barbados? Why would he send a video on a usb through the post? Why not email it?

You were so confused, questions flooding your head. Eventually, you just decided to play the five minute clip and hear what he had to say.

Matty cleared his throat, his chest covering the lenses as he was leaning over the camera to press record.

There was a chair a few steps behind him, set in front of a massive window that allowed you to see outside the place he was at, and it looked like the definition of paradise.

"I, erm... You're probably so confused at the moment." Matty rubbed his eyes with his hands before letting them drop on his lap. "I'm in rehab. In Barbados."

You felt the oxygen leave your lungs for a few seconds before you took a deep shaky breath.

"We are doing this thing where we think back about the worst things drugs have made us do to the ones we love and, erm, apologize for them." he chuckled, it seemed in an ironic way. "They had us forgive ourselves first which, as you may imagine, was really hard for me to do. Ever since October, I haven't felt more than hatred towards myself. So that was a challenge."

Matty tried looking into the camera but his eyes didn't know where to concentrate, he just let his head fall in defeat. "This is weird. How do people manage to record themselves and not feel like an absolute idiot?" He looked up, rubbed his face and sighed in frustration.

"This rehab has been so different to the last you know? I've been bonding with this bloody horse– They have me talking to a horse, Y/N!" Matty laughed genuinely this time, and his giggles made you giggle as the start of your tears rolled down your cheeks. "Fucks sake, can you believe that?" You wiped the tears as they fell but eventually gave up when they came faster than your fingers could clean them.

Matty sighed, taking a look outside the window before looking back at the camera. "He's amazing though, you must know horses are great listeners and they are so majestic." his hands were on his lap and you noticed how he'd started fiddling with his fingers. "Gonna miss him much more than I anticipated once these seven weeks are up..." he trailed off and his smile faltered as he came back to his main point in his head. "But, erm, I digress."

He cleared his throat before continuing, "The second part of that forgiveness ordeal was to apologize to those we've hurt. We were told we could write letters, record voice messages or videos. I wanted to write a letter to you but it wasn't– I feel like it–" he paused, gathering his thoughts. His brain going faster than his mouth like always. "I couldn't hide behind words this time, you deserved better than that. I owed you a different level of vulnerable, raw me."

"I started this because of that last promise you made me make to you — thank you for leaving that voice message actually, I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't." His eyes stood stuck on the lenses so it felt like he was staring into your soul. "So, yes, I started this because of that promise and I felt like I owed this to you but they've made me realize here that I owed it to myself." You saw the way his chin wobbled and it had you letting out a sob.

"I don't like how it's always taken me fucking things up to realize what I had." Matty let his head drop as he shook it, disappointed in himself.

"This isn't some kind of plea for you to take me back, you just deserved closure from me I suppose — and to hear a proper apology." You didn't know if you could take that at the moment but you just couldn't pause it, so despite your heart begging yourself to stop for at least a minute you let it continue. "It's too late for anything else, and you definitely deserve so much better than someone who could do that to you just because he was under the influence." The memory stung like a fresh slap, causing a river of hot tears to run down your cheeks.

Matty sighed before continuing, tears falling down his cheeks as well and his voice wavering as he spoke. "I'm deeply sorry for what I did, for ruining everything we had and making you go through something you were the last person to deserve. I ruined you and I am eternally sorry for that." He kept fiddling with his fingers, "I'm sorry for letting something so mundane and stupid come between us, I'm so sorry for not being the person you deserved." Matty started listing all of his regrets, and it felt like a thousand needles to your heart. "I'm sorry for being weak and letting myself break. I've hated myself so much for saying yes to some lines and then seeing it all unfold like it did." His head shook, letting himself let out a few quiet sobs.

"You have to know I regret that night and everything else that happened afterwards, that's my biggest regret in life and I will carry that with me forever but please, Y/N, don't feel like you have to." You clutched your chest like you could somehow bring your heart some comfort that way, the way he was staring at the camera with his eyes starting to redden made you hurt so badly.

Matty let out a shaky breath before continuing, "This makes me sound like such a cunt, that I'm asking you to move on as if I have to be the one telling you to do it for you to actually do it but this is me begging to not let my mistakes pull you down because you're so fucking wonderful Y/N/N." his voice wavered at the end of that, and in unison both of you started sobbing your hearts out like you were in the same room in front of the other.

Your desperate cries bounced off the walls and you felt like your chest was being ripped open again. You watched as Matty looked up at the ceiling and harshly wiped his cheeks, taking a deep breath to keep talking. "You are easily the best thing that has ever happened to me and so I also wanted to thank you."

It was so complicated for you to understand what that caused you to feel, it was like a hug but it punctured your heart that this was the situation he was thanking you in. "You were our absolute biggest fucking fan, going through all of it with us — going through so much shit with me. I'm still having a hard time figuring out what I did to deserve you. I clearly didn't." Matty's lips twitched up in an attempt to smile, as if he was trying to make it a tiny joke but it failed.

"Now, this isn't something I'm entitled to do, I shouldn't have the neck to ask you to make me a promise but I don't think I'll ever stop caring about you, not tomorrow, not in a year, not in this lifetime nor the next. So I want you to promise me that you'll always choose yourself and take every decision that will lead you to feeling the happiness you deserve as many times as possible." his knee started bouncing up and down now, but his eyes were stuck staring straight at the camera and you could see just how pleading they were.

"You know I've never thought happiness was ever a destination but if it turns out to be, then I wish only that for you." his hands fell on his knees then and you saw through the tears his knuckles turning white as he held them.

Matty went to speak again after a few beats of silence but he stopped himself as his voice didn't come out. He let himself stare beyond the camera for a few seconds before his gaze fell once again on the lenses, "I don't think I'll ever not love you, you know? My love for you goes beyond the grasps of time and space, and maybe that's extremely selfish to say — fuck."

He wanted to kick himself when he realized how unfair he was being, just saying shit like that, like it wasn't his fault that it had all happened. "I'm sorry, I just—" Matty backtracked and he stopped himself as the knot on his throat tightened again. "Sorry. I'm still a mess, and unfortunately human."

The tears ran down Matty's face, matching the ones running down your cheeks as you stared at your laptop screen. You felt the urge to reach out for him, to touch him but he wasn't there and that broke your heart even more.

"I don't know what else to say, this introspective shit is harder when you have so much time to think about yourself. I have never been more self aware in my life... Maybe this is what I needed." He trailed off and he shifted in his seat, looking back outside for a moment and smiling slightly at the view.

Matty took some time, trying to gather his thoughts and see if he could form any more sentences that he wanted desperately to tell you but his brain was a tangled mess and he felt awful for making you waste more of your time on him when it was the last thing he deserved.

"Well, I will leave you now, I hope I didn't disrupt you with my bullshit. And, erm, I hope you had a lovely Christmas time, you truly deserve it. Hope George got you that drumming set he promised you back in May." He chuckled remembering the messy lessons George gave you and how he'd promised to give you one so you could practice with him.

Matty struggled to find the best way to finish the video, you could see how hard he was racking his brain for what he wanted to say. He ended up settling for honesty, because that's what you deserved from him.

"I miss you, as selfish as that sounds. And I love you, always, as selfish as that is. Goodbye, Y/N." He gave you a tight lip smile, before he stood up and the frame ended in the same way it had started, with him covering up the lenses as he leaned forward to press the button.

Your heart settled heavily on your chest and it was how concluding it felt that had your head dizzy. A bitter taste on your tongue as you once more looked back at it all and at how, after months, the overwhelming amount of love you felt for him was still there.

Hidden away in the back of your heart.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

A/N: I'm so sorry for that... But I hope despite the heartache you still enjoyed it! Thank you so much for taking the time to read, the fact that I'm even posting this for everyone to read is mental to me. Please let me know what you thought of it. I’ve got more things coming that I’m so very excited to share with you all!! *screeches* okay, thank you again and see you soon!

Send me a message if you want me to add you to the taglist :)

Taglist: @imagine-that-100 @red---moon @drinkurkombucha @vinylandcoffeecollection @better--oblivions @kennedy-brooke

[imagine-that-100]

Kiss Me

Description: | Ross MacDonald x Reader | You never thought that after you split up you would find your way back together, but thank god you did. And now you just need one more kiss to help you survive the last night before he’s stuck with you for good. 

Warnings: Tiny bit of angst

Word Count: 1077

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You’re nervous and you’re never usually nervous. It’s a strange feeling as you’re always so sure of yourself.

But as you’re standing there waiting for your best friend to come and pick you up, you just can’t shake that uneasy feeling.

And it’s funnier because you don’t even have anything to be nervous about.

You feel so secure in your life now compared to how you did 6 years ago when a similar occurrence took place. The big difference from then and now being that back then you called your best friend up crying, asking her to get you from Ross’ house and that was because that night your relationship with him ended. 

It was an bad time for the both of you. It took you both almost a year to get over it completely but thankfully there were no malicious feelings attached to the thought of each other.

Looking back it was a ‘right person, wrong time’ situation. You were both in different places and it hurt doing the right thing that ultimately was just to benefit you both in the long run.

After that awful night all those years ago, you didn’t end up seeing each other for 3 years. You’d been to see his band, so you had seen him, but you never made your presence known.

And things remained that way until you accidentally bumped into him and George when you were walking around Brick Lane doing a bit of shopping, the same as them. They were the ones that spotted you first and you’re beyond grateful now that they stopped you for that chat, even more so that it wasn’t awkward for either you or Ross.

The catch up was lovely and you really liked seeing him standing in front of you again instead of on your phone or in a YouTube video. When you got a phone call from your best friend that broke the conversation, both George and Ross looked a little deflated to see you having to rush off.

But before you could head out, Ross asked if you’d come to their gig at the O2 that night. You thought it was lovely that he’d asked but you adored the smile that made its way onto his face when you said that you were already going.

After that night, you got back in contact properly and things got brighter for you both. And a bright future is an understatement because by the same time the following year, you and Ross were back together and the year after that he proposed.

And you said yes.

Now, you can wholeheartedly say that you’ve truly never been happier and it really did seem like you were just both too young the first time around. But after the space and growth that you both had over those years apart, you can say now that you love him more than you even did the first time around.

Ross MacDonald owns your heart, and it’s easy for your friends to see. But it’s even more clear to them that you own Ross’ heart entirely. There’s never a minute he doesn’t want you around, and when you’re not beside him, you’re always on the phone or texting each other.

You really have become that couple who can’t be without each other for too long. The happiness that your relationship brings to your both is something that you wouldn’t change for the world, and the fact that you’re nervous right now is baffling you. 

Naturally, you calm yourself down by looking at your handsome fiancé and his stoic and calming presence helps you settle a bit. There’s a comfortable silence that’s fallen between you and you bask in the tranquil state. You aren’t even going to hide that you’re staring at him as he sits on your bed waiting for either the doorbell or your phone to ring.

Seeing his smile always works wonders on you and you could easily get lost in those brown eyes for days if he’d let you. You love Ross MacDonald with your whole being, body, and soul. He’s the one who made you believe that soulmates are real because he’s everything for you. 

By the time you get the call from your best friend telling you she’s outside, your heart rate has slowed and you thankfully feel a little better.

“Are you ready?” She asks you excitedly down the phone.

“Yeah,” You smile, looking at Ross as you talk to her, “I am… I’ll be down in a minute.”

After hanging up, you throw your phone in your overnight bag as Ross stands himself up. You don’t need to say anything to each other to understand what’s running through each others mind.

When you reach your bedroom door, you just hug him and savour the feeling of his body against yours. That is until you break apart and silently walk downstairs with him following behind you.

You’ll miss his comforting presence whilst you’re apart. You always have, but you think you will even more tonight.

When you reach your front door, you feel your heart start beating erratically and the nerves creeping back in. It scares you a little bit so you just need the thing that you know will calm you down properly.

“Ross?” You call turning back around to look at your beautiful brunette.

He smiles seeing your face again and he asks his low voice, “Yeah?”

“Kiss me?” You whisper.

“You know I’m going to kiss you tomorrow, right?” Ross asks with a teasing smile, wrapping his arms around you back pulling you into his chest.

You nod knowing he will, but you just need the extra one today.

“Please.” You plead, your arms travelling around his neck, fingers slipping into his hair.

You can’t help but smile as you look at his gorgeous face, “Just one last time before we get married.”

Ross nods and leans down to kisses you like you have all the time in the world, and you love that after all these years he still makes your heart flutter with excitement. You love this man with everything you have and you know he loves you too. 

Ross can’t wait to call you his wife. He can’t wait to say, ‘I do’ and make things even more real. You’re it for him and he will never take what you have for granted. 

You’re his soulmate. His everything. And he loves you so so much.

[macabremads]

Fatherhood a.h

A deep fatherhood drabble about Adam Hann

Request? Yes. I did modify the quote though to make it work. I hope that’s okay. 

Anonymous said: haha im sorry for the 39 and adam one like adam is the single parent? or something with adam having a child sorry for being vague. “I forgot I was a single parent.”

Warnings: Death, implying depression, loss of a loved one. 

Edited by @sidekickjoey

Adam thought that he was prepared for almost anything in life. He was the organized type, unlike his fellow band mates; however, planning didn’t mean anything when his fiance, Melody, was killed in a car accident a year after their son had been born. To say that Adam was completely rocked by the horrific accident was an understatement. He had loved Melody with all of his heart and losing her so suddenly was gut wrenching. Not only did he have to mourn the death of his fiance, he had to be a father to his child who was a spitting image of his deceased partner. It terrified him.

There were days when Adam couldn’t comprehend what he was doing, breaking down in tears as he watched Mason play on the floor with his toys, and Adam hated himself for putting his son through seeing his father so tore down. Sure, he was too young to probably remember it, but he knew he could sense something was wrong. He was young, not incapable of feeling.

The boys tried to help Adam as much as possible, completely feeling for their best friend who had lost so much in such a short span of time. George often came over and brought food, making sure everything was clean for the first couple of months after the accident. He even came over sometimes with Ross to watch Mason when Adam needed a break.

Almost a year later, Adam began to pick up the pieces. He found himself able to be there for his young son, bringing him to the park and creating positive memories. He had finally found strength to keep going, and all of the boys were happy to see Adam slowly fade back into his old self. Around this time, he met you, a friendly companion who often helped out with Mason when there were band rehearsals or if he just needed some time to himself.

He often looked to you as a crutch when he needed someone other than the boys to confide in, and you enjoyed helping out and being there for Mason. You could easily say that you looked at him as a son in a way, as you were always there for him and watching over him even when Adam was around. It just came natural to you, and Adam did not seem to mind. In fact, it warmed his heart.

“Sometimes I forget that I am a single parent,” he spoke as you two sat on a bench, watching Mason as he played in the wood chips with a girl who was probably a year or two older than him.

“You have helped me out so much and I don’t know how to properly thank you,” he continued as he kept his gaze on his son, his facial expressions soft.

A small smile graced your lips as you leaned your head against his shoulder. “I always have said that it was never a chore, Adam. I care about you both.” You had to have assured him a thousand times before, but you knew that Adam always needed reassurance when it came to you. He was terrified that you would leave, and leave him floundering with a broken heart and another missing piece in his life. You hated the thought of him ever having to think about that loss again. A few extra reassurances could not hurt if it meant his peace of mind.

“I don’t know where to go from here y/n, but I want to make this work,” Adam spoke, your heart swelling lightly at his words as you looked up towards him. You met his gaze as his hand slid into yours, lightly lacing your fingers with his.

“Take all the time you need.”