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whimsicalpolitical · 4 months

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Family bonfire // Matty Healy x Reader

a/n: send me more requests, I love nothing more :) also I know it’s getting warmer and summer feeling but this gave me an autumn vibe.

summary: Matty and you spend some days with your family in your childhood house. Not only the fire gets hot in the evening ;)

content warning: 18+ smut, fingering,idiots totally in love, unprotected sex

based on this request

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As the sun dips below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the kitchen, you stand alongside your mum and sister, watching through the window as Matty and your dad work tirelessly to prepare the bonfire.

Your two brothers are running around the pile of logs, doing anything else besides helping both.

Every time Matty comes back with wood, he searches for your gaze in the window and every time he can catch a glance, he does.

You’re doing the dishes with your mum, while your sister is just sipping her green tea. You try to suppress a little giggle when Matty tries to wipe away the sweat with the sleeves of his brown cute lumberjack jacket.

Your mum glances at you, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "He's a good one, isn't he?" she remarks, her voice soft with affection.

You nod, your heart swelling with pride as you watch Matty and your dad laughing over something. “He really is,” you agree, a smile spreading across your face.

Your sister chimes in, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “And look at them bonding over chopping wood,” she teases, nudging you playfully.

“Dad wasn’t this open when I brought my boyfriend home,” she states. Your sister is only two years younger than you but she’s with her boyfriend for 5 years now. When she brought him home, your dad was skeptical if he would be the one.

With Matty it was different. It’s only the second time you’re together at your home and your dad seems to really like him. He hasn’t said any judgmental comments or asked him thousands of questions, which is always a good sign.

“That’s probably because he realized that the both of you have made great decisions.” You laughed because it’s definitely not the truth. Your dad just found it easier with Matty.

Together, you watch as Matty and your dad continue their work until the logs are stacked up perfectly. “Finally, come and help me get the chairs out,” your mum says to your sister. She takes the last sip of her tea and hands the cup to you.

Both leave the room and only seconds later Matty comes in, pulling the gloves off his hands, laying them on the table. “Hey lumberjack,” you giggle.

“Lumberjack? More like fucking legend,” he jokes, lifting his arms to show his biceps, walking towards you. “Had fun out there, especially with you watching me like a stalker.”

His hands find your waist, the coldness of his finders radiating to your body. You smack his chest at his comment, rolling your eyes in mock exasperation. "Please, you were practically posing out there," you retort, a teasing glint in your eye.

Matty tries to act offended, placing a hand over his heart. "I'll have you know, I take my wood-chopping very seriously," he declares, his tone overly dramatic.

You just laugh and get yourself a small kiss from his lips, humming as you pull away again.

As Matty's hands rest gently on your waist, you feel a shiver of anticipation run down your spine. His touch both comforting and electrifying, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along your sides, sending tingles of pleasure dancing across your skin. “Should we join them?” He asks, nodding towards the laughing people outside.

“In one minute,” you argue, wrapping your hands around his back, hugging him.

Matty chuckles, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your lower back. "clingy much?" he teases, his voice playful.

You leaned back slightly, meeting his gaze with a playful grin. "Can you blame me?" You reply, your tone light but sincere.

His lips curl into a fond smile, his eyes softening as he looks at you. "Not at all," he admits, leaning in to press a sweet kiss to your forehead.

You keep your head resting on his chest, meanwhile Matty watches as your dad tries to light the fire, the wind being a huge obstacle. “As much as I’m enjoying this, think we have to join your family.”

You groan as he removes his body from yours, kissing your cheek one more time to try to make this separation easier. He intertwines your fingers, walking outside the kitchen to join the others in the backyard.

“Matty,” your dad tells, “mind helping me light the fire?” He’s kneeling with a lighter and some tinder, to light the fire.

“Of course not,” you watch as Matty walks over to your dad, kneeling as well, holding his hands in front of the tinder, to keep the wind away.

Your other sister walks towards you with her boyfriends arms around her. In her hands, it’s Matty’s acoustic guitar. You look at her, lifting your eyebrows questioningly.

“Mum wants Matty to sing for us later,” she laughs, knowing it’s a bit awkward, “here.” She hands you the guitar, the material almost slipping through your hand. You lay it down gently against the wall, walking towards the chairs around the fire.

It’s 8pm when you’re all sitting around the fire, hands reaching out to the heat, trying to ignore the cold wind through your hair.

You pulled your chair right next to Matty’s so you can nuzzle into his comfortable jacket. “I can give you the jacket y’know?” He chuckles, his arm around your shoulder rubbing soothing circles into your arm.

You feel a warmth spreading through you, both from the jacket and the comforting presence of Matty beside you. "Nah, I like being close to you," you say, leaning into his touch.

Matty's smile widens, and he squeezes your shoulder gently. "Fair enough.”

Everyone’s busy talking, your mother discussing something with your sister, in their own world.

The fire lights up Matty’s face, his brown eyes glowing in the darkness.

You rest your head on Matty’s shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne mingled with the smoky aroma of the fire. "You know," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, "my mum really likes you."

Matty pulls back slightly, a surprised smile spreading across his face. "She does?" he asks, his eyes bright with curiosity.

You nod, a fondness shining in your eyes. "Yeah, she said you're the right one," you admit, feeling a surge of warmth at the memory of her mum's words.

Matty's smile widens, a hint of emotion tugging at the corners of his lips. "Well, I'm glad to hear that," he replies, his voice soft with sincerity. "Because I think her daughter’s the one for me”

Your heart swells at his words, his head leaning down to give you a soft peck which follows by gagging sounds of your 13 year old brother. You just flip him off, making Matty giggle.

Some time passed, the crackling of the bonfire filling the night air, casting a warm glow over the gathered family. Blankets are draped over shoulders, laughter echoe in the darkness, and the scent of roasting marshmallows mingle with the crisp autumn breeze. It is a scene straight out of a storybook, where time seems to stand still and worries melted away in the flickering light.

After your mums request, Matty sits on a weathered log, his acoustic guitar resting comfortably in his hands. His fingers dance effortlessly over the strings, producing melodies that seemed to weave themselves into the fabric of the night. His voice, rich and soulful, filling the air as he sings ‘be my mistake’, each note carrying the weight of emotion.

You feel a lump form in your throat as you listen to the haunting beauty of Matty's voice. The vulnerability in his tone sending shivers down your spine, and you can’t help but be moved by the raw honesty of his performance.

Some times when you’re asleep Matty sits down next to you, to sing to you. Most of the times, it’s be my mistake and it’s definitely one of your favorites.

“He's incredible," your sister murmured in your ear.

“Truly talented," you agree, nodding in appreciation.

And when the song comes to an end, the silence that followed is filled with whispers of awe and admiration.

You lean in close to Matty, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. "You were amazing," you whisper, your voice filled with love and pride.

Matty smiles, his eyes shining with gratitude. "Thanks, love," he replies, his voice barely audible over the crackle of the fire. "I'm just glad I could share it with all of you."

It’s already pretty late, your brother’s the first ones having to go to bed and you can’t wait to finally leave as well.

As the warmth of the bonfire envelope you, Matty can’t help but notice how close you are every second. He leans in, a playful smirk playing on his lips. "You're awfully cuddly today," he remarks, his voice low and teasing.

His hand finds your thigh, squeezing it slightly, his touch driving you insane. You shudder and give him a look. “Matty,“ you mutter, trying to free your thigh from his grip but he’s very persistent.

You let your eyes trace over his profile; the strong, curved line of his nose, dark stubble that’s flecked with a little grey. He thinks it makes him look distinguished. He catches you watching him out of the corner of his eye and squeezes your thigh again, kneading the flesh there.

You shift in the seat, open your legs wider, encouraging him to move higher. You think about pressing your lips against the juncture of his throat, inching your own hand over the front of his jeans, wondering if he’s already half hard. “In front of your family?” He tuts, “you know better.”

You look around, making sure no one is aware of the scene, when you lean in, whispering in his ear. “Take me inside,” you lean back, watching his eyes go dark before whispering a quiet ‘please.’

You bite your lip, almost letting out a whine when his hands leaves your thigh, to run it through is curls. “Fucks sake,” he mutters, “you were the one telling me I need to behave, and what now?”

It’s true. Before you left the car you told him he cannot hit on you in front of your family and he didn’t but it’s slowly driving you crazy, missing his touch.

He turns his head away from you when your sister’s boyfriend starts talking to him about tour. It is the subtle tension in his demeanor, the vein pulsating on his neck as he speaks, that draws your attention.

With a sudden impulse, you reach out and gently take Matty's hand, guiding it to rest on your thigh beneath the cover of darkness. His fingers tighten around yours, a silent acknowledgment passing between you as his gaze briefly meet yours, a spark of understanding flickering in the depths of his eyes.

“Behave,” he whispers, when your brother isn’t looking, too busy searching for his phone. You just stick your tongue at him, making him roll his eyes.

You fake a yawn, followed by you standing up, grabbing Matty’s hand, forcing him to stand up. “I think we’ll head to bed.” Matty glares at you, shaking his head in disbelief, a smile never leaving his mouth though. You thank your parents for everything and say your goodnight when you finally make your way into the house.

“You’re unbelievable you know that?” He says, following you into your room. The second the door is closed, you press him against the door, crashing your lips onto his. You don’t let him say anything else while you get rid of his jacket and his shirt under, tracing your hands all over his chest.

“Christ,” he groans, feeling your hands squeeze his bulge, “what’s gotten into you?”

You lead him to the bed but as fast as you’re on top of him the faster he has you on your back. “Are you out of your mind?” You bite down on his shoulder, “baby-“ he groans, pushing your head away from him. “C’mon, you know these walls are thin.”

You groan, knowing he’s right and you definitely don’t want an essay from your parents about how you should act. “Then be quiet, it’s not my fault you decided to touch my thigh and give me ‘fuck me’ eyes.” You roll your eyes dramatically.

“Fu- darling, can’t even look at you anymore without you getting all hot and bothered?” He smirks, “besides, we both know you can’t be quiet.”

“But I can,” it doesn’t come out as convincing as you wanted it too and Matty just raises his eyebrows, “c’mon just try okay? And when I’m not quiet we can stop.”

You place a hand on Matty’s chest. It’s crazy, but you can feel his heart pounding; the heavy rise and fall of his breath. He looks at you for a second, his lips on yours again. His hands finding your zipper and button of your jeans, opening them. He removes himself from you, pulling your pants down in one swift movement, then your panties.

His lips scrape against yours, parting so you can slip your tongue inside. Your lungs have left your body, leaving a hollow space in your chest, making it impossible for you to breathe. You feel lightheaded. But oh, the way he’s biting at your lips; tangling a hand in your hair and pressing against you. His leg is between your thighs and you practically melt on it, trying to grind on it, but he holds you down.

“Where did your patience go huh?” Your legs open to wrap around his waist. Matty groans, wanting to feel friction as well, grinding into your core one time.

He brings a finger to his lips; fixes you with a gaze that shows he’s serious. Be quiet. “I love nothing more than hearing you moan for me, not tonight love, be quiet okay?” You nod and gives you a kiss for your understanding.

You throw your head back and close your eyes. If you look at him for another second, you’re not going to be able to stop yourself from moaning. Even with the simplest gestures, he drives you crazy. You feel Matty reach his hand down between your legs. “Fuck,” you whisper.

Two seconds in and he has you gasping for breath. If you were wet before, you’re positively dripping now. You dare to crack open your eyes. Matty’s face is stoic with concentration, fixating on you, trying to make you stay quiet, and you can’t believe how incredibly turned on it makes you. He bites his lip slightly, and you think you might pass out. Looking was a mistake, but you can’t tear your eyes off him.

“What am I gonna do with you?” His thumb is rubbing your clit, while his fingers pump in and out of you, leaving you gasping, suppressing your moans, “you’re dirty, can’t even stay a few days without me having to make you cum.”

You ride his fingers until you forget your own name, and you already feel the coil tightening inside you. You grab Matty’s shoulders, pulling him to lean down over you. He kisses you. Rough and sloppy and frantic. You let out the smallest whimper into his mouth as you cum, hard, clamping your legs around his fingers. “Didn’t know you can fucking listen,” his words are mean, teasing but his kisses say otherwise, praising you for being good.

“You’d do anything to cum,” he gets up, undressing his pants and getting rid of his boxers, only to be on top of you after only seconds, “can stay quiet again right? Can show me how good you can be?”

He puts a hand on your waist to steady you, and you feel him line up with your entrance. It takes everything not to scream as he slides into you. “Shh, love, you were a fucking beg, now take it.”

The stretch is intoxicating. You haven’t even recovered from your orgasm, but just the sight of him pausing after he’s buried inside of you, needing to collect himself, breathing hard. It’s enough to make you ache. “Please Matty.”

Matty is fucking into you, careful at first to stay quiet, but getting sloppier every second. He can’t pull out all the way for fear of slapping too loudly against your thighs, but the result is an incredible friction that has you soaring. You grab at his shoulders, his neck, and Matty lets you. When the pleasure has you tear open your eyes, you catch him watching you again. Enjoying the way you fall apart on his cock. It makes you clench around him even harder, and you catch the faintest whisper of a curse fall out of his lips as he leans forward, dropping his head to the crook of your neck. “Fuck,” you half whisper, half moan.

His eyes shoot up, ready to punish you if you are loud again. “Fuck, fuck,” you whisper into his ear.

“You have a filthy mouth,” you moan at his statement, not being able to hold it in anymore and the second another moan threading to leave your mouth, a hand is slapped over your mouth, the side of it slotting just under your teeth. Your heart pounds as Matty leans in to whisper to you again. “Bite down if you need to, don’t make another fucking sound.”

He continues to thrust inside of you, his body somehow lowering to get even closer to yours. When he has gotten sufficiently near, he presses a kiss to the side of your mouth—now stuffed with his hand and leaking spit—and mutters something about how good you are for him, how nicely you fit around his cock.

Then he tilts his hips and proceeds to pound you into the bed like an animal in heat. Your ankles lock behind his back, and his nose settles next to yours, breathing hard.

He couldn’t be more in awe seeing you veer close to the edge, again. “C’mon, cum for me.”

Then, he doesn’t sink so much as simply collapse on top of you while you both kicked back and let the waves of ecstasy roll over you. You adore his warmth in spite of the heat practically suffocating you both in that car. Matty scrunches his nose up, ripping his hand out of your mouth, a bite mark very visible and some blood dripping down.

“Fuck, sorry,” you apologize, taking his hand, gazing at the wound you created. “Don’t be, did what I told you to.”

You reach for a tissue and try to clean his hand, Matty hissing every second the fabric touches his hand. “You’re a fucking bear with those teeth.”

You giggle, the sound is replaced by a whine when Matty pulls out of you. “Told you I can stay quiet,” you wink, pulling him in for a kiss.”

“We can be very lucky if no one gives us shit tomorrow,” it’s not regret in his voice but more like a thrilling sound. He loved the secret.

“Mhm, very lucky,” your sentence has a double meaning and Matty understands it immediately, laughing before grabbing his shirt, pulling it over your head.

“Your mind is in the fucking gutter love,” he walks to the drawer to but on a pair of boxers before picking you up. “Use the bathroom, I’ll be waiting.” You smile and waddle over to the bathroom, your legs still shaking and Matty watching you with a goofy grin on his face.

#the 1975 #ross macdonald #matty healy #george daniel #adam hann #the 1975 fic #matty healy smut #matty healy x you #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #matty healy imagine #matty healy oneshot #you do make me hard but she makes me weak

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orangeinecstasy · 10 months

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ross boyfriend thoughts ฺ｡*:･

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

cw: fluff and smut sections

cute simple dates

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

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

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

doing his hair

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

constantly wearing his clothes

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

semi-frequent pet name user

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

little spoon lover

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

cold winter mornings

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

100% a he fell first and harder

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

treasures of yours with him all the time

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

smut below the pictures

size kink

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

hair pulling

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

munch, duh

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

pleasure/soft dom

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

sir kink

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

wax play

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

choking

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

possessive

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

cockwarming

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

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

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daisybianca · 2 years

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Most of the following topics are not intended for minors. Your media consumption is your own responsibility.

Requests are currently OPEN/closed

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CARLOS SAINZ JR.

Smiles and Tears

Sweet Jesus

The Perfect Morning

Crisis of Lust

The Final Lap

Cowgirl

FERNANDO ALONSO

Under the Shadow of Envy

MAX VERSTAPPEN

His Beautiful Passion

To the Moon and Back

Love Under the Rain

Colorful Persuation

Unrivaled Hearts

MICK SCHUMACHER

A Naughty Fantasy

Instagram AU

His Birthday Girl

Love Marks

Another Welcome Home

Swept Away

Yes, Sir

LANCE STROLL

Lipstick Stains

DANIEL RICCIARDO

Handsome Neighbor

Instagram AU

Punishment of Hedonism

My Boyfriend, My Personal Heater

In Sickness and in Health

Instagram AU

Jealousy with Curly Hair

Vegas Love

Twisted Fate

SEBASTIAN VETTEL

My Secretly Jealous Boyfriend

Dessert Befofe Dinner

Are You Jealous?

Confession of Desire

Beg For It

Beg For It / Chapter 2: Shameless

See Me After Class

CHARLES LECLERC

Puppy Love

My Perfect Valentine

Caught in the Act

In the Bonds of Holy Matrimony

Mister Piano

Package of Love

Brief fluff

Dearest, you said

Love at First Interview

Friends With Benefits

GEORGE RUSSELL

Christmas Present

TOTO WOLFF

Brown-eyed Soul

Scorching Sanity

Make a Wish

PIERRE GASLY

His Beautiful Woman

Atrocious Dream

Feverish Nights

Let me Calm you Down

Heaven Itself

LANDO NORRIS

Disney Movies and Kisses

Tickling Play

Heart Full of Puppies

Cherished Love

Baby Face Sitter

My Wife-To-Be

Little Brat

SIR LEWIS HAMILTON

The Playfully Flirtatious Gentleman

Mischievous Nighttime

Easter Treats

My Birthday Boy

Instagram AU

Mini spicy story

Sealed With a Kiss

8 Times World Champion

Hard of Desire

Boarding Sex Game

Call Me Your Love (part one)

Call Me Your Love (part two)

Call Me Your Love (part three)

Who Did This To You?

Perfectly Fitted

RANDOMS

Favorite reaction pictures

Memes

Asking the F1 drivers "what's your zodiac sign?"

Brief funny discussions

"Oops, I moaned."

Pierre-Daniel-Yuki

What the drivers love to say/do during 😩🥵 time.

The F1 Drivers: Their nicknames for their favorite girls.

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tillthelandslide · 1 year

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Same For You (5) : Changing Roads

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

Series Masterlist

Same For You (4)

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

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

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

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

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

Shit, she was 15 minutes late.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I am, he thinks

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why's that?"

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

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

He's early.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hi Ab" he hears her say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Pretty guitar" he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(6) The Dinner

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

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alovesreading · 9 months

Text

'tis the damn season | Part 1

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

Word count: 16.5k

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

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

Masterlist

Part 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The sight made you smile a bit harder.

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

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

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

That was the first day you walked to school together.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yup. He would definitely keep it all to himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So he got promoted, huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hummed as if asking for you to elaborate.

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

Ross snorted as he nodded, “It is.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wanted earth to open up and swallow you whole.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I told you it was alright.”

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

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

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

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

“Then take them, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t. You’re so cosy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ross thinks you’re so fucking cute.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mockingly, really.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you do just that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ten, nine, eight…

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

Seven, six, five, four…

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

Three, two, one…

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ross giggles breathily.

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

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

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

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

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

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

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

You really wanted to see Ross.

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

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

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

With a shake of your head, you force yourself to stop.

It’s okay. Everyone will be glad to see you and it’s gonna be as if you’d never left. It’ll be alright.

When your dad picks you up from the Manchester airport station, your smile breaks on your face. It has been so long since you’ve genuinely smiled that your cheeks start hurting shortly into your drive. Your heart slams against your ribcage, your fingers fiddle with the sleeves of your jumper, and your words tangle on the tip of your tongue as you try to chat with your dad.

You can’t wait to get home and feel some sense of normalcy, that familiarity you’ve been longing the very second you went away.

But, despite the warm welcome the familiar walls of your fully decorated house gives you, when Ross comes over, there’s a shift around you that makes you frown.

The unrelenting knocks on the front door have you dashing downstairs, and when you open it, your eyes widen and a gasp slips past your lips when seeing Ross standing in front of you, “Oh my god, hi!”

He envelopes you in a hug that makes a knot tie in your throat, and the sound of his voice would have pushed a sob out of you if it wasn’t for a correction that hit you like a gut punch, “Missed you so much swee– Y/N/N.”

The both of you tense in each other’s hold, impossible not to have missed the awkward correction. Your brows furrow as you look over his shoulder, not wanting to look at his face just yet because your confusion is clear on your face, but you try your best to sound unnerved when you reciprocate, “Yeah. Missed you too.”

A half smile is what you offer him when you pull back, and when he gives you a grin of his, you just want to scream seeing the dimples on his cheek after so long.

Yet, you can’t let yourself enjoy his presence fully when he walks into your house and he greets your parents, because all that you’re thinking about is why on Earth he could’ve stopped himself from calling you a pet name he’s used for you for years.

Your chest hurts already, thinking about a loss that you have no idea the reasoning behind. Little did you know, you would be mourning more losses with the days to come.

In the kitchen, your parents, Ross and yourself are all chatting and catching up over cups of hot chocolate. There’s laughter and smiles, loads of news about what’s been going on in Wilmslow while you’ve been gone, many more stories of the lads and another name the band had acquired.

Soon enough, your mum and dad leave to finish wrapping presents and leave you and Ross to catch up alone.

He’s helping you make cookies, the same ones you had made 5 years ago to thank him for the potatoes. And you can’t help but smile at the memories the two of you have made over the years during the Christmas season, heat creeping up your neck when remembering what had happened merely one year ago.

But you can’t relish too much on the ghostly feeling of his lips on yours because suddenly, he clears his throat and shyly starts talking about something he has been hiding from you for a bit.

“I, erm, met this girl in uni,” he trails off with a soft voice that makes you freeze in your spot. “She’s teaching history, like I do. She’s much smarter than I am, though.”

Ross laughs, that dimpled smile breaking on his now flushed face. All you can do to hide your surprise is chuckle along, breathy and not at all genuine.

And it seems like he takes your giggles as a seal of approval for he lets every thought about this mysterious girl out.

Her name is Katie and she’s the same age as you and Ross. They met the first day of classes when Ross was so confused about where he had been told to go, his inability to take his eyes off the papers in his hand had caused him to crash into her and, after gathering each other’s things which had fallen everywhere on the hall, they chatted enough to know they were both lost on their first day as teachers and they had been inseparable since then.

She has a brilliant memory and is an amazing teacher. Everyone adores her and Ross is still surprised she chooses to hang out with him most of the time. She’s pretty, gorgeous even from what you can see on her myspace page Ross shows you. She loves LCD Soundsystem and The Streets so she’s basically perfect. Added to the fact that she plays the guitar, and of course is quite good at skateboarding.

The bitter feeling rising up your throat burns a hole in your chest, like acid burning through your skin and bones.

“Can we change topics? Please?” You snap out, smacking your hands on the kitchen counter. “Not in the mood to hear about how perfect this girl is. I’m sure I’ll see how fucking wonderful she is when I have to meet her.”

A loud sigh follows your sudden outburst, and then silence falls. Each second hurts, the silence is far too loud and then dread falls on you, a heavy weight on your shoulders that makes you slump forward.

“Right,” he says to pierce through the agonising silence.

You want to disappear right then and there. It’s unfair of you to shut him up like that when you’ve been gone for months and you barely have had the time to chat properly on the phone. It’s unfair of you to not listen to him talk about a topic that clearly has him excited, someone who has him foolishly smiling and rambling.

But maybe it is that. That you are back after the most horrible months you’ve been through and all he can talk about is this gorgeous perfect girl that claims his every thought.

You’re annoyed she’s pushed you away to a corner of his mind. Annoyed that whilst you were crying your eyes out every fucking day, he’s been getting closer to this girl.

It’s odd because it isn’t like Ross hadn’t had girlfriends before. You have witnessed him with girlfriends since you met him.

But there was an end to that and it was when you first kissed on Christmas day a year ago. Ever since that day, your dynamic had shifted and you had been perhaps flirting a bit more, but it never went further than that. But he also didn’t get a girlfriend after that and maybe, despite having to leave for university, you had held out hope that it would stay that way.

How foolish of you.

Cookies are finished and put on the oven in deafening silence, a very awkward one that makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

You can breathe again when he leaves as soon as your parents come back downstairs with more presents to place under the tree. He says something about going back home to get ready and making sure his parents don’t come over late before he closes the door behind himself.

Suddenly, the prospect of having Christmas dinner with the MacDonald family is suffocating and you want to be able to hide in your room and avoid it entirely, but you can’t.

Not when Ross’ mum and dad envelope you in the tightest hugs and tell you how much they’ve missed having you around. You have to bite your tongue not to start crying, especially when you see Ross standing behind them over their shoulders with a forced smile that reminds you how badly you had fucked up earlier.

You’re incredibly grateful for the fact that your parents take over the conversation aspect of dinner, because Ross barely looks at you or speaks to you all throughout it. It only saddens you more, a bit of anger brewing inside you too.

It’s too tense to enjoy, too awkward to even feel a hint of the warmth Christmas day often brings you.

When dinner is over and your mum tells the both of you it’s time for your annual Christmas pictures, it becomes even more awkward—as if that was possible.

His arm falls over your shoulder like dead weight, his fingers don’t even hold you in place. So when you wrap your arm around his waist, you barely make an effort to hold him close to you. Your smiles are forced on your faces, no dimples biting at his cheeks, your lips almost look pressed together instead of showing a toothy grin to the camera like you’ve always done before.

Your mum sighs but takes a picture anyway. She has no idea why you two are acting this way but she doesn’t care, she just wants a cute picture. “Oh c’mon kids, where’s the kiss?”

A roll of your eyes is what your mum sees, and she’s about to scold you when you say in a forced amused tone, “Think we’re a bit too old for mistletoe kisses now, no?”

Silence again. Second after second of quietness that only makes the weight on your shoulders heavier.

It’s ironic how much heavier it feels when Ross lifts his arm off your shoulders and lets it fall limply on his side at the same time as he agrees, “We are.”

You take your arm off his waist instantly. You’re left standing awkwardly beside the other and despite your mum’s confusion, which is clear in her frown, she presses the shutter and the picture is taken and begins printing in a blink of an eye.

As soon as the whirring of the printing polaroid stops, you regret ever letting those words out of your mouth.

Because not only do you get a hasty hug from Ross when he and his parents leave your house, the next morning is accentuated by the lack of his presence.

No more ‘sweetheart’. No more pictures of kisses on cheeks under the mistletoe. No lazy Boxing day morning.

And, apparently, no walking to Matty’s together either.

You’ve been waiting for his call all day. First, to see if he was coming over to show each other your presents like you always do, but no call came through. And now, you’re three hours into waiting for him to call you and tell you to walk out so you can go to Matty’s together for the gift exchange.

No call comes and since you’ve been ready to go for a while and you don’t want to be late, you just rush downstairs and leave.

Walking down the roads you’ve missed so much, alone, is another wave of pain that you didn’t know you could feel just by the absence of someone. No one has ever meant this much to you before that the lack of their presence chips away at your heart, piece by piece.

When you get to the Healy residence, you get crushing hugs from everyone that’s already there. Except from Ross, of course, because he’s already there, splayed on a loveseat and he barely makes the effort to hug you hello.

As the inevitable catching up happens all over again, since you’re still waiting for the rest of your friend group to arrive, you have to hide the truth and put on a fake smile when talking about how university is going. But it’s hard when you have no new friends, and you’re struggling through most of your classes thanks to how homesick you feel.

Change is a nightmare to you and you’re reminded of how much things are changing at a quick pace when an hour goes by and no one else shows up.

Seems like no matter how vocal about the promise of always coming back Danielle had been, she and Sarah weren’t coming at all. Jodie shares a sad smile with you and puts away the gift bags from them, leaving only the ones for everyone who’s currently there.

The warmth you have been craving since you got there finally washes over you when everyone opens up their gifts. Laughter, cooing and many thank yous go around the living room, it gives you the hope that maybe it’s not been all ruined.

You’re looking forward to the New Year’s Eve party until George asks Ross if he’s asked Katie about it and the way Ross blushes is enough for everyone but you and Jodie to start a ruckus, teasing and making jokes about the girl and Ross.

“Yes, she’s coming over on the 31st…” Ross sighs, rubbing his flushed face to hide how flustered he’s gotten. But then he drops his hand and looks around the place, brows shooting up and eyes widening like he’s giving a warning, “You lot better play nice.”

However, it’s the way his eyes grow stern when they fall on you that you know he means it seriously when it comes to you.

So you take it seriously.

You know you’ve been the one to put this tension between you and it’s in your hands to right your wrongs, so you want to take this opportunity to apologise for your irrationality on the previous days.

You’ve mentally prepared, gone over what Ross told you the day you got home and recognised how great of a person Katie sounded like. It actually makes you smile when thinking she’s been such a good help for him to adjust to his new teaching gig, how she and Ross have gone through the novelty of it together; and convincing yourself that despite the horrendous feeling that clouds your insides, she’s been a good addition to Ross’ life.

But it doesn’t matter that you’ve reached those conclusions and that you’re actually gotten yourself excited enough to meet her, because when you get to Matty’s with two bottles of vodka and a pack of Ross’ favourite beer—an apology gift if you will—, Ross fully avoids you.

He gives you a tight lip smile and a nod of his head as a hello, he turns to Katie and says, “Katie, this is Y/N.”

You’re left trying to awkwardly act like the fact that Ross has left you with your arms open and awaiting a hug hasn’t hurt you, and you really try your best to push the ugly feeling aside when you smile at her and offer your hand out for her to shake.

“Nice to meet you, Katie. I’ve heard loads about you.”

She blushes and lets out the cutest giggle, and of course it’s that which finally makes Ross smile.

“Oh, really? That’s erm, good to hear.” She finally grabs your hand after giving Ross a side look to which he smirks. You really have to fight the scowl that wants to take over your face when she shakes your hand, “Nice to meet you too.”

He snakes an arm around her waist and you take that as a sign to get yourself away from the situation. Before you can say something you’ll regret even more, or even pick a fight with Ross for his indifference.

The need to call him out for it grows as the night continues, for he doesn’t even look at you. He keeps a straight face when you speak, doesn’t even look at you when you clearly throw a comment or ask a question to him, he doesn’t speak to you at all. And everyone fucking notices, the looks they keep sending your way are enough to know that they know something is wrong.

But you can’t explain, not right then at least. So you keep to yourself, pouring yourself drink after drink, and you start being petty and mirror his behaviour: you laugh louder to annoy him, messing about with George and Matty obnoxiously, ignoring any comment or joke he could make to the rest of the group.

You walk past the line of tipsy and start getting drunker and drunker when midnight gets closer. The memory of how it had been the previous year makes you glare at him. He has her almost sitting on his lap as she delicately takes sip after sip of her cup, and it enrages you that he’s drinking the beer you bought him when he hasn’t even thanked you for it!

How is it that you were kissing him a year ago and now you’re watching him being all lovey dovey with a girl he has just met?

It’s an understatement to say you’re fucking pissed by midnight. George has been laughing at your clumsiness for a while now, but he has joined you when you started drinking the vodka straight from the bottle instead of mixing it with fizzy lemonade like you had been all night.

When the countdown starts, you set the almost empty vodka bottle on the coffee table and start screaming along.

Matty is beside you and he grabs your shoulders and shakes you in excitement, making you laugh loudly, but you let yourself fall back so you’re resting over his chest and he rests his chin on your shoulder, counting down right in your ear.

It is the second everyone yells, “Happy New Year!” that you act before your brain can process and, suddenly, you’re kissing Matty.

He gasps when your lips meet and you lick into his mouth, but the curly haired brunette doesn’t pull back, instead he cups your face and tilts your head to put you in an angle where he can kiss you comfortably and he even moans into your mouth when your fingers tangle in his curls and pull on them.

The surprise of what’s happening is enough to make everyone gasp instead of wishing each other a happy new year, and soon whistles and ruckus drowns the room. Everyone but Ross participates in the disturbance. The bassist is biting his tongue as he sees you basically eating Matty’s face. His fingers tighten around Katie’s waist and she turns around to see him when she feels the change in his hold.

Ross forces a smile and Katie gasps, “I didn’t know they were a thing!”

“Me neither,” he manages out through his teeth.

It doesn’t matter that he’s doing a poor job at hiding what’s going through his head because Katie is more interested in seeing what happens next with you and Matty.

The feeling of tears rolling down your cheeks and tasting the saltiness in the kiss, makes Matty pull back. He hears you whine and you pucker up your lips to continue the kiss but Matty pulls back, clutching your face a bit tighter so you can open your eyes and look at him while he whispers, “Do you wanna leave Y/N/N?”

Matty knows you far better than you think and he knows that this kiss has no other meaning behind it other than the fact that you’re too drunk and he’s quite sure he knows why you have been so reckless with your drinking tonight. And, despite being drunk himself, he has to try and get a hold of his bearings and help you out.

You nod, embarrassed when another tear rolls down your cheek. When he wipes it with his thumb before anyone can see it, you whisper back, “Can we go up to your room? Can’t be here anymore.”

His curls bounce on his head when he nods and you’re grateful he holds you by your waist when you stand up and walk upstairs to his room.

“Y’alright?” Matty asks when he closes the door behind the two of you.

You wait until he sets you on the edge of his bed to answer, “No.”

He knows it’s all because of Ross, not only because of his behaviour tonight, but maybe because you felt some type of way for his best mate and now you were stuck in this situation. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not– Don’t apologise. This is just me being fucking stupid, expecting everything to be the same when I came back home.” The despair is clear in your voice and he kneels in front of you when you let your head hang for the tears can’t be stopped anymore. You shake your head as you think about all that you have felt for months and how, after tonight, the feelings that have flooded your system are just the same, “But I’m so sad, Matty. I’m so lonely.”

It breaks his heart to hear you like this, when your shoulders shake as you silently sob, he squeezes your thighs to make you look into his eyes when he says, “You’ve got us. Always.”

Another shake of your head breaks his heart, your words not helping at all when you say, “Not back there. I wish I did.”

Matty knows it is not the moment to ask about it, but he will ask how you truly are doing in London afterwards. For now, he brushes your hair behind your ears and asks, “Do you want me to stay?”

“Please?” Your voice breaks when you add, “I don’t wanna be alone anymore.”

He quickly stands on his feet and crushes you in a hug, “I’m right here, darling. I’ve got you.”

Matty stays with you for a while, and Ross sees red when another ten minutes go by and neither of you come back downstairs. He grabs Katie’s hand and convinces her to leave, and the girl of course accepts because despite really having enjoyed herself, she would rather have Ross all to herself.

Ross stomps his way back home with Katie in hand. He’s fucking fuming at both you and Matty, because of course you would act all childishly when finding out he has met a girl and has been taling to her, and use one of his best mates to get back at him.

He shakes his head and huffs angrily, deciding right then and there that he’s done with your behaviour. And he ignores the feeling that burns his insides at the thought of you and Matty together on a night like this. He chooses to focus on Katie, sweet Katie who’s giggling and sharing her favourite things about tonight.

Stopping in the middle of the road, he wraps an arm around Katie’s waist and presses her flush against his chest, brings a hand up to her face and kisses her passionately.

He shuts his eyes tightly and tries his best not to compare this kiss to the one you had shared a year ago, willing himself to have Katie be all he thinks about from now on.

Even when you come knocking on his door two days later.

A soft smile is on your face when he opens the door and you greet him with a quiet, “Hey.”

“Hi.”

He sounds and looks wary, like he’s trying not to say too much either with his words or his facial expressions.

You sigh, fiddling with your fingers as you let him know, “Erm… I’m going back.”

He frowns, “Already?”

You know it’s odd, it’s the middle of the week and classes don’t start again until Monday so there’s no reason for you to leave in such a hurry, but you just can’t stay here when everything is like this. You had wanted to come back home to spend your time with him, not ruining your friendship in the worst possible way and now, all you wanted to do was run away before you could get yet another chance to fuck things up even more.

“Yeah. Gotta go back.”

“Did you have fun?” Ross asks with a tone in his voice that makes you freeze in your spot.

It feels like it’s a trick question but you can’t really think about why. Mainly because you can’t remember much about the party other than how awful Ross had acted with you, but you don’t want to give him the pleasure of knowing he had been the reason for the way you had drank.

So you try to smile even brighter now, nodding as you reply, “I did. It was really fun.” It hadn’t really, because not only had you been feeling so awful because of him, you had woken up with the worst fucking hangover of your life. Matty had been lovely and helped you until you felt well enough for him to take you back home, but you were still feeling the effects of such a horrible night.

You made a joke of it, very nonchalantly adding, “Still feeling a little rough but it’s alright.”

But since you have no clue of what Ross thinks happened, your words make his stomach churn and he scoffs humourlessly, “Right. Well, I’ll see you next year then.”

The way he says it makes you feel like instead of saying goodbye like you had come over with the intention of doing, he’s pushing you away with a halfhearted farewell to just get it over with.

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek as you try not to cry, and with a small voice you agree, “Yes. You will.”

“Good,” Ross says, though he isn’t sure if he means it or not.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

Katie and Ross had gotten together officially on Valentine’s day of 2008, or so you saw back then when she posted it on Facebook—after Matty had begged you to make yourself a profile on the new social media page, the lads had sent you friend requests and along with them came Katie and a bunch of people from school you had barely ever spoken to.

The biggest change since you left Wilmslow at the very start of the year has been that you barely ever speak to Ross, either through the phone or through messages on Facebook. You had called him on his birthday to congratulate him and so he had done the same when yours approached.

Matty has been the one to take his place, even if it has been in a way different way than what Ross ever was to you. You’re still so incredibly grateful for Matty, he’s the one to help you on your worst days and is a great person to vent to when you couldn’t keep everything to yourself any longer.

With someone there to be entirely transparent to, hearing you and helping you through your struggles, university got the tiniest bit easier.

And though it still wasn’t the greatest thing ever, you were scared of leaving your dorm to take a coach back home for the holidays with how everything had turned out the year before.

So you’re more anxious than excited when you sit by the window and open a book you’ve brought to keep you distracted from your thoughts on the long drive up to Manchester.

It’s futile, for you have to read each paragraph twice and you barely have gotten halfway through the book with how distracted you’ve gotten by your own mind throughout the ride home. Any other day, six hours would be enough for you to finish a three hundred and something pages long book, but not today.

Your dad greets you with the biggest hug at the airport station and once you get inside his car, it feels real enough that you can’t stay still. Not even when you get home and go upstairs to your room after hugging your mum hello.

You’re pacing around your room, sitting on the edge of your bed for a handful of seconds only to spring back up and start pacing again. A vicious cycle that continues for far longer than you would like to admit, until the loud knocking on your front door startles you out of your trance and poses a good excuse to do something.

“I got it!” You yell out to your mum who’s making hot chocolate in the kitchen, and you hum when she thanks you.

When you open the door, Ross greets you with a loud, “Hi!” and a toothy smile that you haven’t seen in ages.

Through the shock, you manage to say, “Oh hi!”

And you become even more shocked when he goes straight to the point, “Heard you’d finally arrived so I thought I’d come by and ask you if you wanted to come over later? You know, to catch up, maybe watch a film and have some hot chocolate…”

“Oh? Yeah, sure. That sounds good,” you somehow manage, but you’re sure your wide eyes and your parted mouth is enough for him to know you’re surprised.

“Brilliant,” he smiles easily and asks just to be sure, “Around six?”

You nod, swallowing hard before answering, “Sure. I’ll be there.”

“Great. I’ll see you then.”

In all honesty, you thought he hated you. With everything that happened a year ago, most of it all being your own fault, you expected to not see him until Boxing day at Matty’s when you were due to exchange gifts, but here he is inviting you over to have a day to yourselves like you used to back in the day.

There’s a spark of hope that brings tears to your eyes. Maybe you haven’t lost him just yet and you couldn’t be happier about it.

Your parents see the change in your demeanour when you come into the kitchen with the brightest smile and let them know you’ll be going to Ross’ house around six to hang out. They truly couldn’t be happier because they had always loved the friendship the two of you shared, and your mum had been highly suspicious about your lack of Ross talk ever since last Christmas.

But you had cheered way too early for when you knock on Ross’ door and he lets you in, you’re met with a smiling Katie in the middle of the living room waving you over.

The shock leaves you frozen in your spot and Ross watches as Katie’s smile falters when she asks if you’re alright. Ross doesn’t even have to see your face to see how tense you are and the tone in your voice when you say, “Yes! I’m fine. Sorry. It’s so good to see you again.” is enough for him to know this is gonna cost you some effort.

You take one of the settees while Katie takes her place on the loveseat across from you and Ross is off to the kitchen to bring the mugs of hot chocolate he had promised.

When he’s back, you and Katie are exchanging some lighthearted small talk. He hands you a mug and hopes that with his presence there, he can help you and Katie to get to know each other better. After all, he still considered you one of his best friends and Katie had now been his girlfriend for ten months, so it’s well overdue to have you and Katie properly getting along.

But it seems like that isn’t happening any time soon. You’re trying your best not to be awkward, to be nice and find interest in everything she’s saying but Ross knows you so well, anger starts boiling his blood when he sees how much you’re forcing it all.

It doesn’t sit well with him how you can’t even hack simple conversation with his girlfriend, and despite a voice inside his head pointing out that you really are trying, he can’t help but become more and more infuriated by the lack of sincerity of your words and behaviour.

The last nail in the coffin is when you cut short one of Katie’s stories about one of her and Ross’ dates and say that you’re sorry but you need to head back home. And, even when Katie points out it’s just a quarter to ten, you hold your ground and continue saying you really needed to go.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you,” Ross says once he’s shut the door behind him as he walks you out.

You turn around to see him rubbing his face in exhaustion, “Excuse me?”

He groans, exasperated, “Can you just, for once, not be a bitch to her?”

Your mouth opens agape at his choice of words and you struggle to find your words, “What? How am I–”

“You are! You know damn well you are!” He interrupts with fury, “I thought it had just been bad last year ‘cause it was your first time coming back home for the holidays and it was a bit of an intrusion to have her join our friend group, but now? There’s no excuse for how fucking fake you’re being to her.”

Like a fish out of water, your mouth opens and closes as you try to find what to say, “Ross, I–”

It isn’t good enough for him and he interrupts, “No, I don’t wanna hear it.”

He can see the tears welling up your eyes and he has to stop himself from rolling his, “You either treat her like a decent human being or–,” he trails off as he thinks. It is then that he looks at you sternly and spits out with venom laced through his words, “Or maybe, you know what? You should just leave. Go back to London.”

Words could never describe that pain that ripples through your body when he says that, you can barely say with a broken voice, “If that’s what you want.”

And not even the fact that you’re about to sob stops him from being so harsh on you. He nods, “I do. It’s for the best of everyone here that you just go.”

“Okay,” you whisper before turning on your heels and walking quickly down the road, rushing to go into your house.

Your mum and dad see the desperation with which you open the door and slam it shut behind you, and they barely catch the tears running down your cheeks when you run upstairs and lock yourself in your room.

Toeing off your shoes, you walk up to your window and shut the curtains, to then turn off your lights and in utter darkness, you shed yourself of your clothes and put on your pyjamas before hiding yourself under your sheets and starting to sob.

Your chest hurts with every cry that you try to smother by pressing your face into your pillow, and it is right then that you know you won’t be able to stay for long. You will unfortunately give Ross the pleasure of listening to his words and go back to London, but not before actually having Christmas dinner with your family and giving everyone their Christmas gifts on Boxing day. You would endure only two more days and then you would be gone. Spending New Years alone in your dorm didn’t sound as depressing as spending it here where you didn’t feel welcome anymore, not with Ross right there.

Before Christmas dinner, your mum sends you over with a big gingerbread cake for the MacDonalds; since they aren’t coming over for dinner that year, as Katie was spending it with Ross and his parents, the tradition of sending over treats has come alive again.

You’re so grateful that it is his mum to open the door, not feeling strong enough to see his face again. But it’s extremely hard for you not to let your tears spill down the corners of your eyes when she invites you inside to share the treat with everyone. You politely decline and instead make her laugh when you have her promise to let you know how she finds the cake.

Throughout the whole of Christmas dinner with your parents, your mind is gone somewhere else. You barely touch your food and can’t really keep track of the conversation they try to lure you into. After dinner is over and you’ve put the dirty dishes on the dishwasher, you manage to focus enough to appreciate the gifts your parents got for you and to relish in the reactions to the gifts you got them.

Unfortunately, as you go on Facebook to wish Matty, George and Adam a merry Christmas, you catch a glimpse of a picture Ross has uploaded only a few hours ago, and it’s needless to say that your heart breaks in a billion pieces and you sob yourself to sleep like a fool.

How could you not when he’s posted a picture of Katie and him kissing under the mistletoe, reminding you of a tradition that’s now long gone, along with your friendship it seems.

And when you wake up and spend the entire morning of Boxing day alone, falling in and out of sleep, you’re reminded of yet another tradition you used to share that is far gone and adds to your heartache.

Your anguish makes you lose track of time and your appetite, and apparently your rationality as well because you spend hours making a pros and cons list in your mind about showing up to Matty’s before you realise you should just go and give everyone the presents you had already spent your money on. You’re leaving anyway and it would be far better if you just didn’t have all those gifts to look back to and remind you just how everything has turned out this year.

Plus, you had made a promise to keep coming back to see them every year and, after Sarah and Danielle had broken that promise the very first chance it had been time to prove it, you didn’t want to follow their steps.

However, since you’ve wasted all day trying to make that decision, you’re definitely late to the gift exchange.

By the time you get there, you look like an utter mess from how quickly you had gotten ready and how fast you had walked over there, but everyone greets you with sweet smiles and warm hugs.

Everyone but Ross. Yet again. Even Katie envelopes you in a tight hug that you reciprocate, but Ross merely pats your back when you swing an arm around his shoulder to hug him.

You sigh and try brushing it off as you sit beside Matty, who wastes no time to hug you into him and ask if you were alright. Nodding, you assure him wordlessly you were but your eyes say you’re going to talk to him about it later and he nods in understanding.

“Are we gonna start now, then, or what?” Ross says grumpily. He had been the one annoyed at your impunctuality, pushing everyone to just get on with it and not wait for you anymore.

No one will tell you this because it just wouldn’t help at all.

Everyone in the room can see that things between you and Ross are somehow worse than last year, even Katie can tell and it confuses her a lot, because all had been fine when you had come over on Christmas Eve and the three of you had spent the evening together.

Katie doesn’t even know if she should ask. In all honesty, she doesn’t know how to even ask or if she should ask you or Ross or both.

But she puts the matter to the side when you all start exchanging gifts—knowing that Katie was joining this year, everyone has gotten her gifts as well so the girl truly feels like a part of the group—and it is a nice distraction from the clear tension in the room when everyone gets to open their presents.

When Ross thanks you last for what you’ve gotten him with the meekest tone, you have to really force a smile to say, “You’re welcome.” But everyone can see just how much of an effort it is for you to sound nonchalant about it.

Matty is about to snap out at Ross for being an absolute twat when you stand up after gathering all of your gift bags and announce, “Well, I unfortunately gotta go now boys.”

George frowns, “What? Why?”

“It’s barely eight, Y/N,” Adam reminds you softly.

The shake of your head confuses them more and so do your words, “I mean go back to London. I can’t stay longer this year.”

Matty is the one who’s more vocal about his confusion, his words clearly a brutal inquiry as to your reasoning since he knows how much you’d rather be anywhere else but in uni, “Why? Where are you spending New Years? In your dorm?”

“Yeah, it’s just,” you trail off when you can’t really find something to say. Your eyes shift to look at Ross, the reason for your early goodbye, and the second your eyes lock on his, he averts his gaze like he has nothing to do with this. You sigh and excuse, “Something came up, and I really gotta go.”

No one buys it, but they still hug you the tightest they can before bidding you farewell.

“Hope you have the best time on New Year’s Eve. Happy New Year you lot!” You call out as you walk to the front door, “Love yous!”

Alone and in a silence that sickens you, you walk back home.

When you get there, you can’t stop the tears that slide down your cheeks when you tell your parents you’re going back early and you don’t even let your dad offer himself to drive you to the station for you swear you’ve got a ride and it’s all fine.

They want to ask what’s wrong but they don’t when they see the fact that you don’t want to talk about it written on your face. So they leave you to go upstairs and into your room to pack your things up as you silently cry over how poorly it has all gone.

This is the second year you feel like Ross is slipping away from your grasp, and it has you desperate but the only person you have to blame is yourself, for feeling that stupid ownership over him when he isn’t yours, when he has never been yours.

You should be mature enough to keep his friendship, not ruin it because you’re jealous and you feel alone. You should be happy he’s found someone to appreciate him for who he is, to give him the love he deserves when you are gone.

The feeling of disappointment in yourself haunts you as you walk down the stairs and hug your parents goodbye. And that feeling slaps you in the face like the cold winds of December, when you open the door and walk out to Ross waiting there.

He doesn’t say anything though, not when you gasp at his presence, not when you walk up to him and stand right beside him as you wait for the taxi you had phoned to pick you up.

You’re there staring ahead, wishing he was as selfish and horrible as yourself, wishing he would just beg you to stay and say he’d leave his girlfriend behind so you could take her place.

But Ross isn’t selfish nor a bad person like you are. He just stands there in silence and lets his presence be company and goodbye enough for you to settle before you’re gone again.

He offers you a cigarette that you take gracefully, and he lights it up for you without needing to hear you ask for it. The two of you stand there, side by side, smoking together in utter silence.

Your taxi gets there shortly after and he silently watches you put your case in the boot of the car before you throw the cigarette onto the pavement and stomp on it. You open the back door and take one last look at him before getting inside the vehicle.

Not a wave nor a goodbye, much less a hug. Nothing but silence is what he offers as you go.

It isn’t until you get further and further away, disappearing in the distance and becoming smaller as you drive away in the back of that taxi that his gaze drops to the pavement to watch the bud of the cigarette crushed, and it is then that Ross realises he hadn’t heard you cough, not even once, and he frowns to himself.

He really doesn’t know you anymore and he can’t help but wonder if that is for the better.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

A/N: Part 2 is coming to you in exactly a week so don't yell at me just yet please!!! I promise I'll make it up to you. Let me know what you thought and what you hope happens next! It seems a bit cruel to wish you a merry Christmas after this but I really do hope yous all have a lovely Christmas! xx

Taglist: @imagine-that-100 @kennedy-brooke @abiiors @everythinggetsfuzzy103 @on-administrative-leave @ughgoaway @harryssiren @2kwreck @obses-sedd @scarlett-grace-2 @taylorswiftsrep-blog @solitariodecartas @cherryofmydesire @momentum2023 @soggynoodles02 (i wasn't sure who wanted to be tagged or not so send me a message if you wanna be off the taglist for this story)

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httpsdana · 2 years

Text

Master List

this is my master list. I write for more footballers and drivers but these are the only ones that I've wrote about till now

you can request from my prompt list

ps: please request for people other than Gavi and Pedri too

master list part 2

Football

One Shots

Pedri Gonzalez

Maybe I Am

Mine

Boys Night Out

Issues

Favorite Torres Sibling

Only For Me

Football Crush

Stop That

Pablo Gavi

Rage and Jealousy

Sunshine

Pretty Boyfriend

Soulmate

Not Meant To Be

Babysitter

Lazy Mornings

Coffe Date

Scent

Meeting the Fam

Madridista ft. Carlos Sainz

Softie

Offical

Sleepless Nights

Just Sugar

Interview

Insecure

Broken Family Ties

Shy and Shyer

Period

20 Gifts for 20th Birthday

Busy Schedules

My Smurf

Mason Mount

Stream

Fifa And Cuddles

Biting

Knocked Out

João Fèlix

Drunk Nights

Another Loss

Scared

Stay

Jude Bellingham

Secret

Kidnapper

Fans' Favorite

Heartbeat

Sal o Azúcar ?

Marcus Rashford

My Own

Teasing

Drunk Confessions

Photographer

Commitment

Paulo Dybala

Childhood Besties...Or Lovers?

Lucas Paqueta

Baby

Antony Santos

Unexpected

Hakim Ziyech

Our First

First Ramadan

Clingy

Eric Garcia

Perfect

Drunk In Love

Flirt

Bad Day

Cleaning Time

Idiot

Loved

Misunderstanding

All-Nighter

Ferran Torres

Favorite Medicine

Cure

Kylian Mbappe

French

The One

Tickles

Julian Alvarez

Champion

Alejandro Garnacho

Habit

Alejandro Balde

Braids

Clingy

Date

Scared Of Replacement

Erling Haaland

Kitten

Frenkie De Jong

Come Here

Achraf Hakimi

Oblivious

Rasmus Højlund

Crazy In Love

Danish Love

First Of Many

Heartstrings Tangled

Hector Fort

Tattoos

Only Yours

Morning Run

Florian Wirtz

Birthday Cake

Yapper

Jamal Musiala

Cupid in Bali

Family Dreams

Pau Cubarsi

Comfort

Academic Rivals

Hidden Feelings

Marc Bernal

3 Dogs and a Boyfriend

Formula 1

Max Verstappen

Puppy Fever

Lando Norris

Attention

Post Shower Cuddles

Oscar Piastri

DNF

Surprise!

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mybrokenveins3000 · 1 year

Text

He Likes Weddings - reader x Ross Macdonald oneshot

A/N: Here's some ridiculously sweet fluff for the broken Tumblr user's soul.

word count: 1.8k

♫ Kiss Me - Sixpence None The Richer

You're outside of the wedding venue standing on a bench. Your phone speaker is at full volume, and you're barely coping with the bad signal and the heat of the countryside.

"What do you mean you're not coming?" you sigh into the mic.

As a stream of apologies pours down the line, you spot a tall figure out of the corner of your eye.

He's dressed in a dark navy suit with his long dark hair tied up. He's doing a bad job of pretending he's not eavesdropping, eyeing you behind cigarette smoke. Despite his tough exterior and obvious nosiness, you figure it's difficult to be intimidated by a man with small, white flowers poking out of his jacket pocket.

"I don't care if something came up at work, this is the wedding of YOUR friends-- I DON'T KNOW ANYONE HERE!!"

You feel like those little, rich girls in Christmas movies who just want their dads to come home. But in this case, it's mid-July, home is the middle of nowhere, and dad is your disappointing, workaholic best friend.

"You know what, I'm just gonna go home if you won't--"

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

She hung up. Great.

As you lower your phone, you turn to face the audience of your little altercation, smoke escaping him as he laughs. It strikes you at that very moment how ridiculous you look, sweaty and flushed in your silk summer dress, standing on a memorial bench before a wedding.

He disposes of his cigarette as he approaches you. You get a clearer look at him and the situation - his pristine three-piece suit despite the weather, the pocket flowers, and what you assume to be a celebratory smoke before tying the knot. Fuck.

"Won't you stay?" he asks playfully offended, squinting as you foreground the blinding sun. He lends you a gentlemanly hand to help you off of the bench.

"NO! No, I am staying-- for sure!" you assure this man whom you've never met before in your life, hobbling off of the bench. "I mean, of course I'd stay for your wedding!"

"Sorry?"

"Congratulations! You must be so excited! Great weather too," you gulp.

His eyes widen in realisation, he cracks a slight smirk.

"Oh, darling, I'm not the groom"

You cock your head in confusion, eyes raking up and down his person, particularly the flower-pocket region.

"I'm not a groomsman either... I just really like weddings."

Now you're even more confused, but also pleasantly surprised.

"Well, in that case, I'll be going," you finally say, scooping your purse up from the bench, ready to walk back the way you came.

"You should stay," he exclaims after you.

"I don't know any of these people"

"You know me."

Oh.

He revels in the silence of your surprise. His eyes are like a child's, so persuasive and mischievous.

"And you are?"

"Ross," he extends his hand to shake yours, the same hand that helped you just a second ago, "I don't have a plus-one either."

Suddenly, the idea of this bearded, long-haired adult man getting ready for a wedding on his own flashes in your mind. Him excitedly putting on his suit and fixing his tiny pocket of flowers in the mirror. What a peculiar man. But you can't help smiling to yourself at the thought.

You hear the orchestra start up and people making their way to their seats from inside. You see bridesmaids and groomsmen assembling a few paces away.

He offers you an arm to loop yours into. Whilst you've rolled your eyes a record amount of times in your first few minutes of knowing this man, you accept his arm and walk into the venue.

---

You settled down next to him in one of the rows nearer to the back. Inside, it's beyond elaborate with flowers draped over every surface area conceivable to the human eye.

You glance over at him and he is so pure, so happy to be there. He is practically overflowing with excitement. The plan to go back home had escaped from your memory completely.

"You see that lady," he whispers to you, pointing at an older woman in a ridiculous bright yellow dress and hat combo, "that's the groom's overbearing aunt. All these flowers were her idea."

You give him a surprised, amused look, smiling at his knowledge. He winks at you.

"Ooh, and this one," he points to a man slumped over in the pews, definitely hungover, "that's the bride's ex."

"No way?!"

"Yes way!"

As more and more people file in, you gasp "oohs" and "ahhs" as you point at interesting characters and, like a human encyclopedia, Ross dishes back everything there is to know about them. This activity proves itself incredibly entertaining until the ceremony begins for good.

You absentmindedly brush dust off his suit jacket, straightening his tie and flowers whilst you're at it. If people were watching, you reckon they'd think you two were really together. You didn't mind that at all.

As the double doors open to reveal the bride, you see Ross' heart physically skip a beat. He's glassy-eyed, holding his chest where his heart is. He's more animated than the damn groom, you thought.

You find it endearing how he can look like the pinnacle of masculinity and yet fold so easily at dramatic displays of affection. Nothing could possibly ruin this moment for him, not the snoring from the hungover ex, not even the Nokia ringtone interrupting the officiator.

There were multiple instances during the ceremony where you thought he would crack. The flower girls and the father giving the bride away were moments met with a tear or two, much to your amusement. The vows were another honourable mention, of course. But it was the "I dos" and that final kiss that got him. How cliché, you laugh to yourself. And he's LOST it, hand over his mouth to stifle his lovesick cries. Your own hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter.

As the crowd cheers and hollers, him particularly louder than everyone else, you whip out a packet of tissues from your purse. He accepts them appreciatively, first blotting his face gently, then submitting to fully sobbing into the tissues.

You know you should be watching the happy couple, but all you can do is look at him.

Even though you just met, you are so certain you've never met anyone like him in your whole life. I'd never stay at a stranger's wedding for anyone else.

---

Having calmed this man down after the ceremony, you've been spending the whole reception by his side. The fact you've stuck right by this random man for so long feels like it should alarm you, but it doesn't. He seems to shine mingling with other guests with a glass of champagne in hand and eyes shining under the fairy lights, it's an image that you want to be familiar to you.

There's an instance where he finally introduces you to the newly married couple.

After a string of rehearsed "thank yous" from the couple, Ross beams "This is my date!", tipsy on his third or fourth drink, "We met this morning!"

"Ah, you must be the ACTUAL groom," you exclaim, shaking the groom's hand enthusiastically, much to his confusion, "HAPPY WEDDING!"

---

It's the couple's first dance, you and Ross are sitting next to each other, having moved his name tag to where your friend was supposed to sit. Couldn't think of a better replacement, no offence.

As the couple sway to a slow love song, you are surprised as, for once, his eyes aren't on the festivities but on you.

"Ross Macdonald, you're staring," you say as if you've known him for years, surpassing formalities and entering familiar territory.

You see him smile into his hand, eyes not moving. For a guy you've met only a few hours ago, you sure feel comfortable around him.

And, god, are you having fun.

Through slightly drunk vision, there's a vision, a daydream, of you and him dancing - you in white, him in the same, elaborate suit, same pocket of flowers, same enthusiasm. Rationally speaking, the thought is way too rash and inapt, but nice to think about under the warmth of his fingers playing with your dress.

"This is a very nice material," he mumbles. You lost count of the amount of drinks he's had.

"Am I going to be looking after you the entire night?"

"Consider yourself lucky," he smirks.

And you did. Consider yourself lucky, that is.

He plucks a flower out of the tiny bunch in his pocket and slides one behind your ear. His hand lingered against your face for a second longer.

"Beautiful"

---

It was an orchestra in the morning, jazz band in the evening sort of event. His suit jacket lay over your purse on your chair, empty glasses were strewn across your side of the table, and you're both destroying the dance floor. And you're laughing and shining with this stranger. There are not enough unafraid, unabashedly joyful men in the world, you think, the only one is spinning you around to a jazz cover of ABBA songs.

In a moment of dizziness, you fall backwards almost crushing one of the children, who was running around more so than dancing, but Ross catches you, holding you the dramatic, fairytale way.

"Hi!"

"Hi."

---

You find the pair of you sitting on that same bench you were stood on in the morning when you first met, which now feels like a lifetime ago. The jazz band is still playing away in the background, and you're both giggly from the excessive dancing and drinking, legs overlapping each other as you share a cigarette - you feel like a teenager.

"So, are you planning on tying the knot anytime soon? Have a wedding of your own? You clearly love them," you exhale the smoke into the midsummer night and pass the cigarette back to him.

"One day," he looks over at you, "if I meet the right girl," you glance right back at him. You both burst out in peals of laughter.

"You know what?"

"What?"

"You," you jab at him slightly feeling floppy, like your limbs are made of dust, "you are made for weddings, I even thought you were the groom!"

He gives you a look of disbelief, but you insist. He blushes hard as he exhales the white, romantic smoke. He passes the cigarette back to you, which is now stained with your lipstick. You could see a trace of it on his lips in the light.

After a final puff, you admit "I wasn't really a fan of weddings... not until today."

"Oh, really?"

"This is the first one I've went to that I actually enjoyed"

And it won't be the last, he wants to say.

"You don't believe in happy endings?" he says instead.

You're in this moment, suspended outside of time, in what seems to be an alternative timeline. You don't want to imagine how your night would look if you went home. Your life looks a lot different from this angle - it's about having fun, it's about saying yes or even:

"Actually, I do."

---

Friend: You're in the background of almost everyone's insta stories btw Friend: I thought you said you went home? You: [photo] meet my date You: aka your brother-in-law xoxo Friend: ?!?!

---

A/N: Guys, I hate to break it to you but I am feeling GOOD ABOUT THIS. This is VERY MUCH inspired by this particular blurb in the teacher!Ross universe by my friend and confidant @hypersonic04 because THERE NEEDS TO BE MORE FICS ABOUT ROSS AT WEDDINGS!! I went for a 2000s romcom kinda vibe. RIP if you're waiting on me to FINALLY graze smut/NSFW territory, I am a soft girl at the end of the day - sue me! Anyways, I really hope you enjoyed, love you forever!!!

#lol im in so much pain #ross macdonald #the 1975 #1975 band #fanfic #matty healy #adam hann #george daniel #matty the 1975 #asks #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald imagine #wedding ross macdonald #wedding au #ross macdonald oneshot

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kate-inhaler-1975 · 2 months

Text

I’m still trying to get over what happened on Thursday night but i genuinely can’t. Going to the DH2 launch and meeting George was the best thing that ever happened to me…..

I’m not ready for a face reveal SOZ!!!

When I tell you he was so caring, attentive, and he made it clear that he was interested in conversation and didn’t once make me feel like he didn’t want to engage in conversation.

I LOVE THIS MAN MORE THAN MY FUTURE BABIES ISTFG 😭😭😭😭😭

#george daniel #george daniel oneshot #george daniel smut #matty healy #matty healy imagine #matty healy fluff #the 1975 #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy oneshot #matty healy x reader #ross macdonald #matty healy smut #adam hann #im loosing my mind #i’m not okay #this is so bad for my mental health #GEORGE DANIEL I FUCKING LOVE YOU KING

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wrestletotheground · 8 months

Text

snap out of it - ross macdonald x reader

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

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

wc: 2.4k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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whimsicalpolitical · 2 months

Text

Perfect - Matty Healy

sweet sweet aftercare ‘cause of this ask

content warning: 18+ mdni, p in v, kinda rough matty in the beginning, dirty talk, spanking, aftercare

You know right then and there, nothing you will ever experience for the rest of your life will feel as good as the drag of his cock inside you. You feel every ridge, every vein, every twitch.

You feel like you lose consciousness for a second, but regain it with the brutal snap of his hips. Very quickly he finds a pace he likes and sticks with it.

You scream out on instinct, and seconds later you are met with his hand across your mouth.

"Be fuckin' quiet." Matty snaps. He pulls you up by your shoulders, your back against his front. You'd never been in this position before, his cock is so deep inside you, you are seeing stars. You are whining against his hand and letting him use you like a toy. He is splitting you open and you fucking love it.

“Moan ‘round my hand all you want, m’ gonna fucking use you.”

"Shit, this is my perfect pussy." He says, his pace increasing as you feel the head of him brush something deep inside of you. You feel impossibly full, pleasure coursing through every vein of your body just letting him take you in any way he needs.

You squirm around him, trying to move a bit, to make you both feel better.

You feel a harsh slap on your ass next.

“Quit your fuckin’ brat shit.”

A whine slips from your lips, it’s been to long since you’ve felt his kiss. “Matty.”

“What? Hm?” He asks, “tell me your color.”

“Yellow- green-ish.”

You so badly want him close, to feel his lips on yours, kiss until your lips are red and wet from his tongue.

“What d’you need, darlin’?”

“Kiss.”

Matty chuckles and pulls your hair until your head is falling back. He collides his lips with yours. It’s an open mouth kiss, his hips not stilling but moving even more. You moan into his mouth as he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip.

“Alright?”

You nod before letting your head fall back down.

“God, my good girl, s’ it green now?”

“Yes, yes, all green.”

“S’ all it takes, a kiss from me? Pathetic.”

That makes your eyes roll back in your head. You love when he humiliates you.

"You’re a slut f’me, only f’me, understand?”

“Only f-for you.”

The white hot pleasure rolls inside of you, sparking every where it can like a frayed wire and igniting fires inside of you. He strucks down on your ass, leaving a red mark.

“That’s right.”

“Oh fuck- matty.”

He sneaks a hand around you and rubs your clit in circles, and relishes in your bitten back moans and cries for his name being muted by the roughness of his hand. He feels your muscles going limp underneath him. He feels you squeezing him tightly.

"You gonna cum baby? Go ahead, soak my cock." His voice just above a whisper.

You soak his stomach, his thighs, yourself, cumming all over him but his pace doesn’t relent. He's using you. Sliding in and out while holding your body upright against him. He's ruining you even more than before, the sound of your wetness squelching with the crack of his hips. You feel like you are going to die, in the best way. If you died right now with his cock inside of you, it wouldn't be too bad.

You feel his hips falter, and you know he is close.

The moans he is choking back sound like heaven. The whisper of your name on his lips does something cynical to you.

"Where d’you want it, love? Gonna let me fill you up? Mark you as mine?” He manages.

"In. Inside. Need to feel it, Matty, mark me.”

Not even a second later you feel it pour through you, the warmth of it filling up your cunt and dripping out of your hole. He pulls out and watched himself drip out of you. It is pornographic. He runs the tip of his cock through your folds to push it back inside you, gasping when it hits your swollen clit.

“Matty-“ you whine, the soreness already starting to get you to feel a bit shit.

“You should see yourself, all filled up with my cum, s’perfect.” He leans down to kiss your lower back, signalizing you that it’s fine to turn around and drop down against the mattress. “You’re perfect.”

You smile sleepily and lay down on the blanket, too exhausted to wrap the blanket around you and you already know he’s going to clean you up.

“Be a good girl now and stay awake.”

“Mhm.”

You sound displeased and that’s because your behind is much more sorer then any other body part. It stings and that’s why you try to find a comfortable position.

Matty stands at the edge of the bed putting on a white Calvin Klein boxer.

“baby, take it easy, and lay on your stomach. I’m gonna take care of you.”

His voice is more distant.

“Where are you going?” You ask, a little bit panic in your voice as if he didn’t just tell you he’s going to take care of you.

“Just going to the bathroom, I’m gonna grab a few things, I’ll be right back, love, don’t worry.”

“No, please,” you plead.

“Love,” Matty begins to walk towards the bed, “have to clean you up.”

“Later, matt,” you sound drowsy with your eyes closed and your hands trying to reach Matty’s body.

Matty hums and lays down on the bed, your head falls onto his chest and even though he’s now next to you, you’re still hurt. He, of course, notices.

He loops his arm around your leg pulling it over his own, his hand then travels to your red ass rubbing slow circles on your skin.

You relax under his touch, your breathing slowing down.

“That’s it, my love,” he whispers, “you’re so perfect, d’you know that? You always do so well for me.”

You don’t answer, too tired to move or talk.

“Baby, don’t fall asleep, you have to use the toilet and I have to clean you up.”

You shake your head and smile, “kiss me first?”

“Of course,” he laughs.

He leans down more, aware of the fact that you’re physically exhausted, breaking his neck while doing so. But he doesn’t care the second your lips intertwine with his. You don’t have much strength to kiss him as deeply as you do most of the time, but he doesn’t care at all.

“How about a quick shower?” He asks.

This time you don't try to speak. Your tongue is like a lead weight in your mouth and your brain is running on dial-up. The best you can do is to cling to him, hiding your face in the curve of his neck and hoping he'll understand that your firm hold on him is a request for him to tighten his own arms around you, until you're sure you won't float away. He reciprocates and it makes you feel more secure immediately.

"Can you answer me?" He murmurs, all sweet solicitation, lips brushing the top of your head in this new airtight position.

"Baby. I wanna hear your voice."

"Mhm," you manage.

Matty rewards you by rubbing your back in slow circles. His hand feels nice on your bare skin. The way you love him is too big for words. It could make you cry.

"Now?”

You shake your head and try to ignore the ache in your bones when you can't seem to get him close enough.

"Just want to stay here.”

“I know, we really need to get up now, though.”

Matty thumbs away a few stray tears, purely from pleasure, that have fallen down your cheeks. Your eyes are still a little clouded.

"c'mon, darling," Matty snakes an arm around your waist to pull you flush to him. You keep your head in the crook of his neck as he helps you to your feet and into the bathroom.

He sets you down onto the counter while he’s prepping everything, laying the softest towels down, his sweater and new panties for you.

He turns the shower on, waiting a bit until it’s warm enough. Your eyes are still a little clouded and Matty notices almost immediately.

"feeling okay?" he kisses your cheek, then your forehead, and finally your lips.

You nod, face flushing. "more than okay." Matty hums.

Matty takes his time with you in the shower. he makes sure the water is just the right temperature before he pulls you in.

His hands are soft as they wash and massage your scalp. He’s mindful of your sensitivity and when you're done, he wraps you up in a big fluffy white towel.

“What can I get you?” Matty asks.

“Bed,” you mumble, tiredness finally taking over. “But also m’ cold.”

"You're cold?" He asks and you answer him with a nod.

Earlier matty was wearing a basic white button shirt with an elegant wool sweater draped over it. You told him at least ten times of how nice you think the sweater looks.

Matty kisses your forehead. He squeezes your hip and turns around to lift his sweater off a little shelf..

"Arms up," matty instructs gently.

You do as you're told, the soft material concealing your body in the best way possible. The smile on your face tells Matty he made the right choice.

He then slides your underwear over your legs and a few seconds later you finally make it back to bed.

Matty helps you before sliding in after you. You promptly curl into Matty’s side.

“Wasn’t too rough with you, was I?”

You shake your head and lean up to kiss the corner of his mouth, “nah, you’re perfect. Always.”

He massages your skin gently, over all the places he had been a little rough earlier, gentle fingers pressing against your hips and thighs.

“You’re perfect, sweet girl.”

Locking eyes with him, you then utter in utmost adoration, “I love you so much,” craning up to kiss his lips softly.

“I love you, I love you,” he murmurs between pecks.

“Let’s get some sleep now and then we can watch the ridiculous show you like s’much.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” you roll your eyes.

“Whatever you say.”

He snuggles in behind you, wrapping his arms around your torso much like he had when he was in the bath with you. You turn around to face him one last time to press a kiss to his lips before nuzzling into his chest. His arms shift to move around your shoulders and waist, your leg thrown over one of his own.

“Sleep well, my love.”

Having having your breathing lull him to sleep is a tune he will never get tired of playing. Nights like these, cuddled up with one another, safe in each other's grasp, are the reason he knows you’re the right one.

You want to spend the rest of your life’s together.

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

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lookedlikethebins · 6 months

Text

i'll say it twice

Finally! The long awaited Valentine's Day producer george x TA matty oneshot! I'm so sorry for taking as long as I did. Thank you for being patient AND a big thank you to the anon that inspired this fic with the prompt about matty coming to a club/one of george's dj gigs! [set ~6 months since meeting each other] ~5.8k words xo side note: i know nothing about being a DJ but a lot about cyclical anxiety and epic poems so i compensated xo

George had been semi-confident—and a bit overprepared—in his upcoming set, until Matty showed George the readings he’d suggested for the next week of class: Lover’s Discourse. The date of his set hadn’t registered until that moment, sitting with his arm around Matty and feeling embarrassed by his own obliviousness.

Valentine’s Day. Of course, the club wasn’t just holding an event to sell more drinks on a cold, mid-February Friday night; they were hoping to max their margins for the first quarter. For every one patron, there would undoubtedly be another—their date. George included.

The set had to be a bit beyond perfect.

For the next two weeks, each time Matty stopped by after his classes and office hours, George had been closed up in his studio. He would've been there most of the day, starting early in the morning (right after Matty left, if he’d stayed the night) and blowing past every mental stopping point in favor of fixing just this one last thing.

After Matty was left waiting outside for the third time, knocking and trying to ring George—phone on silent and face down on his desk—George gave him the spare key. Each time, Matty let himself in with a loud shout, letting the door slam shut; they’d learned George startled easily when he was working. When he was worried.

While Matty shouldered off his bag—as well as coat, scarf, sweater, and unbuttoned and rolled his cuffs—George would unplug his headphones and continue his work out loud. Matty often settled onto the loveseat beside George’s desk and leaned forward to best see George’s screens without hovering over his shoulder. Despite sometimes getting up to dance, Matty would never grow (outwardly) irritated when George would have to stop and adjust, redo, or take note of an idea for later. The only time Matty spoke during George’s work was to exclaim that a certain part of a song was his fucking favorite.

Most times, Matty’s excitable commentary was the reason George had to stop and make slight changes.

It would be Matty’s first time coming to see George work. Matty had asked if he could before—about other gigs and recent shows George was playing with the boys too—but George struggled to say yes. And thankfully Matty never pushed back or took offense when George stumbled over his answer. Granted, George had taken Matty to his label’s holiday party—and he’d been a hit—but his club set wasn’t for a closed group. There would be a room packed with people looking for the smallest pinhole in George’s quiet (misunderstood to be “stoic”) exterior, hoping to peep in on his private life.

But, even with all that fear and discomfort with the unfamiliar, it truly was sort of time for it, wasn’t it?

---

“Oh, fuck,” Matty said with a burst of laughter that seemed to surprise even him. “it’s loud.”

They had entered the club through the back entrance meant for employees. George made sure to pull around to the parking lot purposefully obscured by bins and out-of-place planted shrubs. They used the side streets and alleys of nearby buildings to get in without being seen by the group of patrons lined up outside, waiting to get in.

While George had been getting his bag out of the car, Matty stood by the hood, tapping his foot to the muffled beat sneaking through the club’s opening doors and sparse windows. But now, inside and standing on the farthest edge of the dance floor, Matty didn’t need to move his feet to the music; the floor was nearly moving for him.

It was what George loved the most: how the room, the physical space, came alive when music was loud—almost too loud. The air felt like it was breathing on its own from the shear pulse of the speakers.

It terrified George to think Matty might not like that feeling. The encasement of music. The ever-shrinking proximity to other people, while verbal communication became impossible and almost moot. All George ever had in those moments was the same unavoidable and inarguable beat moving him to keep time with the other bodies around him. That feeling of sharing the same heartbeat. He could live in the same suspended moment with someone, just a few minutes at a time.

“Is that… okay?” George said. He had steered Matty toward the back lounge for the invited guests and hired talent. Once George closed the door behind Matty, the wall of sound became a void, ringing white noise. “Do you want earplugs or something? I, uh, I probably have a pair somewhere. I’m sure I do.”

“No, no—I don’t mind that it’s loud. Just sort of forgot. Can’t tell you last time I’ve been to a proper club.” Matty placed his hand on George’s arm, gently squeezing it, before leading him further into the room and away from the door.

“Not a fan?” George asked. He immediately grabbed a bottle of water from the oblong coffee table. He twisted off the cap and handed it to Matty. It was Friday; he’d had his early and late classes.

“Just prefer a place I can sit down,” Matty shrugged. “And if I’m feeling wild: hear my friends talk.”

“You’re really not supposed to chitchat at a club.”

“Name another time I’ve been quiet that long, George.”

George paused. “Okay, so you might actually hate it here.” He was trying to tell a joke, but his chest tightened and twisted into a knot. Like he forgot how to create a laugh. He couldn’t.

“George, love, stop fretting—please? I’m starting to think I’m making you worse.” Matty swung his hand out to playfully hit George on the arm. The open water bottle made a small damp spot on his sleeve; luckily, he was only wearing a short sleeve, cotton shirt. “Pretty sure you’ve been doing all this before I ever showed up. You know what you’re up to—you’re very talented. I’m just here to listen, take a vow of silence, have a drink or two.”

“Oh, I should go get you one, shouldn’t I?” George muttered, looking at his watch and then the clock on the wall—they were a minute apart: George’s watch a minute behind. He was already floundering. The first time he brought Matty—any boyfriend at all for that matter—to one of his shows and everything felt like it was developing into a disappointment. A stumble. Two left feet. George could hear the music muffled in the other room; he just wanted to stand submerged in it.

“That—No, George. That’s not why I said that. I’m not angling for you to go and—Look, I just want to drink after I had to listen to someone wedge Ecstasy of Influence into our discussion for the third class in a row.”

“But I should go get them—they won’t charge me.”

“Oh, so it’s about showing off, not chivalry…” Matty said, offsetting his jaw as he crossed his arms and smirked at George.

“No! I—Matty, it’s Valentine’s Day," George said, taking out his phone. His phone matched his watch but not the wall clock.

“And you’re already going to get laid. I’m not sure why you think you have to butter me up—"

George sputtered in surprise and embarrassment as he heard someone talking just outside the door. “I meant, it’s Valentine’s Day so they’re going to be up-charging, I’m sure. Let me get you a drink. They don’t charge the people they hire.”

“You must not know what happens when a cute guy like me goes up to most bars,” Matty said, lifting one eyebrow. “I won’t pay for anything; Fuck, I’ll barely even need to be paying attention.”

George had never considered how Matty was as a single guy. He’d never really told him. Or maybe George had never asked. There wasn’t much for George to tell Matty, so maybe he’d forgotten people had dating histories that weren’t accidentally shallow or convenient. Had first loves before their late twenties.

The club owner opened the door while still finishing the tail end of his hallway conversation. “—on in twenty, okay? Yeah—George! Good to see you, early as always. What I like to see. JJ walked in five minutes before she was supposed to go on. Again.”

“She likes the spontaneity,” George said with a shrug, placing his bag down in one of the mismatched armchairs. “I can’t argue her style. She’s always great.”

“I just wish she could be spontaneous and not raise my blood pressure,” he said. “You ready to go on in half an hour?” George nodded, checking all three times again. “Great. Anything you need—you can go out and float around JJ when you’re ready. Get either of you a drink?”

“I’m okay, thanks,” Matty said. He placed a hand between George’s shoulders as he hunched down to look in his bag. George’s nervous energy was never something Matty could ignore. “George, did you want something? Or do you want me to get it for you.” Matty was teasing, probably feeling the tension in the muscles of George’s back. Maybe hoping for a laugh.

Instead, Matty’s kind and gentle smile—eyes following George’s hands as they continued to jostle everything in every pocket—was distracted by the owner’s follow up question: “I’m sorry—and I mean no disrespect—but who are you again? George, if this is a new label rep, I’m sorry I’ve forgotten again—”

“Label rep?” George turned toward Matty, who was still touching his back with one hand and had begun to hold his bicep lightly with the other. It was certainly no way to represent a professional relationship.

Matty looked down at himself. “I just came from teaching—Dammit, George, why didn’t you tell me I look like a corporate drone? Is it the tie? It is, isn't it?”

Finally, George smiled. The plane of his back under Matty’s hand relaxing as he laughed, shaking his head. “You don’t look like a drone, okay? And Matty isn’t my PR guy. He’s—” George had never actually called him his boyfriend in front of anyone before; at the holiday party, the moment everyone saw Matty walk in with George, they knew this was The Date George had after studio sessions so often. “He’s just here with me. No business.”

George couldn’t hear the music as clearly anymore, blood rushing in his ears. Matty moved his hand along George’s shoulder blades, slowly and soothingly. Finally, George’s fingers found the loose pair of foam earplugs in the front pocket of his bag. The last place left. He righted himself and held them out to Matty. He ignored the conversation he’d left paused with the owner for as long as it took Matty to tire from arguing he didn’t need them. He dropped his hand from George’s bicep to take them, his other hand not leaving George’s back.

The clock on the wall kept ticking, faster than the one on his wrist.

“Matty’s going to uh… he’s going to be up there with me.” George pointed loosely toward the door; he didn’t know what was out there, technically. Without being sure where the music was coming from, without being able to feel it faintly pulsing in his chest, he didn’t even know where the dancefloor was.

“Up where?” Matty asked.

“The stage. When I’m doing my set.”

“I didn’t think I would be allowed.” Matty shot the owner a quick look before adjusting his tie.

“Of course you are! But only if you want to. I won’t be offended if you’d much rather... not.” George wanted to give Matty the option to pick how he wanted to spend his evening. How to make it better without George intervening, even by accident, and making things worse—

“George,” Matty said softly. George blinked and realized the owner had already left the room; no commotion, no remark, no insistence Matty become part of the monolithic, pulsing, impersonal crowd. No pushback. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“I’m not a fucking idiot, you know that, right?” Matty said. He stood in front of George and placed both hands on his shoulders, as if keeping him planted on the ground. George didn’t know he’d been feeling an urge to pace until then. Until he couldn’t. “What’s got you this upset?”

“I always get nervous before I perform anything. You know that. You know me.”

Matty had been sitting on that studio couch every day for those two weeks. He’d been over when George accepted calls for other gigs and immediately interrupted his own train of thought to jot down his immediate thoughts and plans—afraid he’d forget the “genius” of the impulse. Afraid his instincts weren’t really instincts at all, just moments when inspiration would take pity on him.

While talking about his students’ coursework, Matty had told George about the idea of ancient Greek poets praying at the beginning of their works. Of asking the gods of inspiration—the muses, actually; George remembered feeling embarrassed by his own surprise and sense of clarity by this fact and connection—before embarking on their epics. The invocation, Matty had called it with a flourish of his hand.

Matty described it as if the idea was antiquated; no one thought creativity or inspiration was so out of their hands that it had to be requested at the beginning of every project. But sometimes, when George could feel expectations compounding and very separate things interconnecting into one daunting and terrifying moment, he wished there was someone he could hand things off to. Trust he had solid instincts when he was mid-set and suddenly becoming aware of his own hands and expression and body and position with the person next to him—the new DJ that just arrived and hovering too close and asking too many questions, but being so polite and was someone George should be very eager to show the ropes because he never had that... To trust he would have no need to second guess, critiquing himself for too long and missing the window to execute his plan. The swing of his set broken while George was left standing in horrifying, reverberating silence and—

“This isn’t nerves, George. You look like you might pass the fuck out. Or throw up. Maybe both.” Matty ran his hands across George’s shoulders and laced them together behind his neck, pressing their foreheads together. “It’s not me making you this anxious, is it?”

“No, of course not,” George said quickly. “I just want everything to be perfect—”

“Well, it can’t be.”

“I-I know. I know. Nothing can be perfect,” George mumbled, trying to echo Matty’s frequent and always kind encouragement. What George tried to remember when he was feeling his anxiety bind tighter with the feeling things were slipping out of his control. George had invoked Matty’s words a lot in the past week in particular. “Best-case scenario, then. I want the very best-case scenario. For you. I want you to have a good time and—”

“Do you not think I’m having a good time?”

“My set isn’t for another,” George looked at the clock on the wall only. “fifteen minutes. We’ve just gotten here and… literally stood in a room while I’m…” trying not to freak out or throw up or just blurt out that I— “That’s nothing very exciting.”

“Hey, that’s not all we did today; you picked me up from class, we had dinner, you let me read to you that botched essay intro, you told me about that tour invite and the boys, you invited me to see you do your job. George,” Matty stopped to reset his worried expression with another warm smile. “George, you do know you’re the reason I came, right? Not to experience the best DJ set of my life or have one too many and convince your band to dance with me, or even know any of the songs you’re going to play. I just came here because it meant spending time with you. And that’s why I’m having a good time. That’s it. This isn’t a performance review. I am not qualified for that in the slightest.”

“But—”

“George,”

“I’m not trying to argue,” George said. Matty nodded, moving both of their heads. Matty carefully ran one hand up and down the back of George’s neck, encouraging him to continue. “But… this is sort of your first… event with me. Next to me. Associated with me.”

“… And? We talked about this, right? It’s not industry people who know you, so I’ll have to be more… aware of what I’m doing. But just at first, like you said—I get it, George. I really do.”

“No, no. It has nothing to do with that… Or maybe it does. Fuck,” George stopped to take a breath, forcing it out through his pursed lips. “I want to do something you can be proud of. Be someone you don’t mind admitting is your date. I don’t want to embarrass you—"

“Embarrass?” Matty repeated with a soft but tense laugh. He cleared his throat and George could hear a sudden wetness sink his words. “What a preposterous fucking idea. And, actually, even more so: the idea I didn’t come here already proud of you. That I’m not already more than willing to walk out there and tell everyone who’s even remotely paying attention to me—free fucking drinks or not—” Matty gave them both the chance to laugh, the thickness falling away from Matty’s voice and some of the weight shaking off from George’s shoulders. “That I came here with you. I’ll go anywhere with you—anywhere you’re willing to have me.”

George dipped his head down to kiss Matty, quickly and without invitation for any lengthier response, considering the moment and environment. He wanted to say it. He wanted to tell Matty right then—without the expectation of anything in return. Just simply say. But that was sort of the point of the set. George hoped he could say it without the words; without the direct chance of rejection.

Matty kissed George on the cheek, hands sliding from his neck to smooth his collar and flip his silver earring so the engraving of the dagger’s hilt faced outward. His knuckle grazed George’s jaw as he stilled the jewelry from swinging.

“You’re going to be incredible—as you always are.” Matty said, holding the sides of George’s face. “Like, that’s not me setting a ridiculous bar. That’s actually sort of the baseline for you. Anything beyond that will just be genius—which, also very possible, I’m finding.”

George leaned against one of Matty’s hands—warm and firm and unflinching from the request for support—and sighed, a sense of relief hitting him.

George remembered what he was doing there. He could feel the music in the other room. He smiled. And Matty, the central reason for the tailoring of the next hour of George’s night, smiled back.

They waited in silence, George not trusting himself to say anything else. Not wanting to spoil it.

---

The music was too loud. But that was sort of the point. George was up on stage, feeling the rolling pulse of the room and the music, and didn’t have the space or sense in his head to hear himself think about anything other than just that.

The lights, flickering and flashing and swirling. The faces in the crowd—at least those he could make out—lighting up and excitedly reacting to the change in song, speaking to the person beside them—the only person who could hope to hear them.

The person beside him, waiting until George lowered his headphones to lean in to talk to him. Both of Matty's hands gently holding George's forearm. Matty's chest pressed against George's bicep and shoulder as he leaned in, trying to shout in his ear over the music coming from the speakers on all sides of them.

“I’m going to go get a drink, okay?” Matty said. George only understood when Matty pointed at the blue backlit bar directly across the dance floor. He’d been standing next to George for the entire first half of his set, enthusiastic and smiling. Bouncing and dancing. Trying to get George to do more than his usual simple sway to the music—Oh, come on! I know you know how to move your hips a bit better than that, love.

George gave him a thumbs up and a smile. Matty held up two fingers and lifted his eyebrows. He pointed to George’s empty glass resting on the low railing surrounding the raised stage platform. It had been a vodka soda that, thankfully, had barely had much of the first ingredient. George shook his head and nodded toward the bar with his continued smile.

Matty stepped down from the platform and began weaving his way around the dance floor. He avoided all the clueless drunk dancers, almost bodies possessed by the music, and nosey patrons that bothered to look up at the DJ and see the new face now walking among them, but managed to bump directly into Adam. Which meant within seconds, and a silent cheer of surprise, Matty had also found the rest of the band that had come: Ross, John, and Polly.

As if discussed beforehand, the moment they all saw Matty they collectively looked up at George and waved. As if they knew George would be watching Matty from the slightly higher vantage point. Because of course George was. He answered them all with a quick grin so they would turn away again. After a moment of gesturing and over-enunciated (but mostly unheard) sentences, Ross walked with Matty to the bar. The other three migrated to the side of the dance floor with a cementing nod and lift of a hand: We’ll wait right here.

Watching Matty struggle to get through the crowd to the bar, George quickly rearranged his mental lineup of songs. What use was Matty knowing—dating—the DJ if George played all his favorite songs while he stood in line, cramped in his reach for the bartender between Ross and the back of a guy with shoulders practically as wide as Matty was tall.

For a moment, being able to see Matty from a distance was sort of romantic. It was a thrill to be able to take all of Matty in at once—when most of their romance typically happened up close, barely enough distance for George to see the lips he was about to kiss. From his vantage point, George could watch Matty lean forward on the bar, his weight shifting onto his left foot with his right hovering just above the ground. Could watch as Matty began bouncing his foot with an unknown pulse of anxiety, impatience, or anticipation; George couldn’t see Matty’s expression to know.

George looked back at the decks, needing to focus to ensure his secondary ordering of songs transitioned smoothly. He looked back up at Matty—to see if he’d have to sub in another song before he was back on the dance floor—and saw him angled back toward the rest of the room, smiling and chatting, his face more in view. The only face George couldn’t see was that of the man talking to Matty, one hand braced against the bar railing and the other quickly—and so smoothly George barely noticed—fiddling with the end of Matty’s tie.

George checked his watch, trying to give himself somewhere else to look. He lowered his head and gave himself the chance to hide his flushing and crimson embarrassment. He didn’t mind someone else flirting with Matty—George couldn’t be upset with other men that fell under the very same spell he did after their first introduction. No, George felt embarrassed he’d seen them, that he had been watching at all. That he was observing when maybe Matty had no such idea. Exposing a moment perhaps Matty would rather not have George see; invading Matty’s privacy and knowing something Matty would always think George didn’t know. What a terrible basis for lo—

Finally, George looked back up. Resisting to do so almost like telling himself not to think of something—and only prompting further rumination. George saw Matty shaking his head, hand resting on his own chest, as if holding his heart. When the man nudged Matty’s foot with his own—yet something else George felt he should never have seen—Matty lifted his hand to point at George.

Four sets of eyes were now on him: Ross, Matty, the stranger, and now the bartender returning with Matty’s drink. George froze. He didn’t know what Matty had said about him in their conversation; he didn’t want to betray his point by doing the wrong thing. George had told Matty to keep things lowkey for the night while George acclimated to (very subtly) exposing his personal life, but with someone flirting with him why else would he be pointing at George? Surely, it was romantic sort of point—literal romantic gesture—right?

But how could George ensure Matty knew it was okay he brought it up, that he was happy and so proud to be up there but if only because it meant Matty could turn and point and mouth something that looked a hell of a lot like: that’s my boyfriend.

Before George could short-circuit much further, Matty put his fingers to his lips and blew George a kiss. He then folded his hand at the knuckles in a flapping wave. Almost like a joke. A tease. A giddy gesture that had George feeling like he was growing sunburnt under the minimal, flashing lights. A youthful, almost teenage, motion done with complete honesty and infatuation. For a moment, George felt relief, felt certain for a moment that his very ridiculous and overthought plan would work...

With his drink in hand—and small black straw between his lips—Matty started going back toward the rest of the group. His eyes were busy searching each face he passed for Adam or Polly he didn’t look back up at George at first. It was just as well; George was already so anxious, he was sure if Matty looked directly at him as the next song started, his entire heart would’ve dropped into his shoes. Maybe bruised, maybe shattered, maybe resilient enough to bounce back up.

Although, as the song started, George felt like his heart had stopped. Its internal pulse absent from his ears as the beat around them took over, pounding against his chest, ribs, temples. George dissolved into the music; hoping that the joy and repeatedly expressed excitement Matty had shown listening to it in George’s studio would appear on the dance floor in front of him.

Just one more time, George. Play that part just one more time… For me?

After a deep breath, George forewent any subtlety and made no effort to hide he was watching for Matty’s reaction. He pulled his headphones down around his neck. The sound diluted into the vastness of the room, in comparison to being fed directly into George’s ears, but he preferred it. He wanted the space and breathing room. At least for the moment.

Matty stopped his gesticulating and conversation with John, pausing as he registered the song. His pivot from speaking to emphatically starting to sing along was split-second. Adam stood sort of confused, amused, and dumbfounded as Matty’s apparently dire point faded away and he started dancing: swaying mostly his hips with the beat and holding his one arm up, while the other steadily held his drink in front of him.

Matty lowered his arm and went to take another sip just as the chorus was about to hit again, his usual stopping point when listening with George, but the song swung back around to the start of the verse. Just that part, one more time. For him.

Matty’s declared favorite, all over again. Right on time—jumping to that exact thump of the brutally danceable kick drum. George wasn’t sure Matty would even notice; he probably hadn’t heard the song that many times to know its structure the way George had to. Oh, maybe it was all a bit ridiculous to think—

But Matty had stopped dancing. His lips still moved along to the lyrics, but now like trying to whisper across the cacophony to George. The lyrics almost being stripped and returned to its poetic form. Spoken with slight disbelief.

While everyone else seemed slightly confused—feeling more betrayed by their memory than upset about any music decision or direction—Matty continued to melt right back into the song. Dancing just as he had, holding the back of George’s chair with gleeful distraction.

As George began to fade between the songs—no threat of the verse cycling a third time—Matty pushed his empty glass into Ross’s hands and began hurriedly snaking back through the crowd to the platform. Despite his evident excitement—shifting and shuffling his feet while he pulled at his sleeves—Matty still stood and waited for George to give a cue he was finished with his task at hand.

Admittedly, George wanted to stay in the momentary reprieve between his gesture, the reaction, and his direct confession—the purpose of it all. In that moment, he could only be relieved that he’d done it in the first place. He hadn’t yet had enough time to worry or feel embarrassed by his own ornately constructed vulnerability.

But if George stayed in that moment forever, he’d never hear Matty’s reaction. Good or bad, it would still be Matty. And that sure as hell beat a solitary moment of acquiescing to fear.

George lowered his headphones again and turned to Matty with the very best look of neutrality and obliviousness he could. Matty was looking back with that minute, timid smile: the one meant for George and almost undetectable by onlookers. A glimpse at the joy thrumming inside of him; almost too full to even attempt to express; settling for an undersell rather than falling short.

“Need something, Matty?”

“I love that song!” Matty leaned in toward George’s ear. His hand gently curled around George’s hanging safely under the table and out of view. He tugged and pulled George toward him, able to slightly lower—soften—his voice. “You know I love that song—thank you.”

“I-I wanted you to have a good time! A chance to know some songs—your favorites!”

“You didn’t have to do that—what about everyone else here?”

George pulled back to better see Matty’s entire face. “Yeah? What about them?”

Matty’s smile faltered as he lowered his eyes to George’s earring, now swinging in the air after being pressed down by his headphones. His lips parted as if he was going to speak but then pressed them back together.

“Matty,” George said, although not loud enough. “I’m really glad you came tonight.”

“Hm?” Matty moved his fingers behind his ear—as if his hair was even remotely long enough—to politely hint he couldn’t hear George.

“I…” George cleared his throat, hoping it would still be there even if he couldn’t hear it. Couldn’t hear anything but the music flooding his body just like the flush creeping up his chest and over his cheeks. “I love you.”

“What?” Matty cupped his ear and leaned forward toward George.

George found himself repeating the sentence, but far softer. “I—I love you.”

Matty lowered his hand and looked at George with a furrowed brow. “I-I’m sorry, George. I can’t hear you!” He gestured toward his ears with splayed out hands, mimicking the pulsing, pounding soundwaves thudding against him from the surrounding speakers. “Don’t forget though, okay? Tell me later?"

George nodded, smiling. Like he could ever forget.

"Sure, yeah. Later!"

Like he was ever thinking about anything else.

---

After his set, despite the band congratulating him and offering a few rounds on them, George wanted to go home. Wanted to get out of the noise. He was beginning to feel spoken over, crowded, and pushed out by the thumping music—then even more so when it was no longer him behind the decks.

Thankfully—and once again forgetting the holiday—no one teased George for turning in earlier than them. He and Matty were able to be back in his car, sitting in the parking lot, thirty minutes after his set finished.

“George, you’re incredible, you know that right?” Matty was speaking too loudly, but George didn’t mind; his ears were ringing too. And it also meant Matty laughed a bit louder than he usually did, too. “I don’t think I’ve had that much fun in a very long time.”

“I’m glad you came,” George smiled, his own laugh sounding muffled to his ears but feeling stronger in his chest. Matty lifted himself from his seat to lean over the console and kiss George, quickly but firmly.

“Thank you for inviting me, George. I was happy to be there with you not on business,” he said. “Happy to be your date tonight. Proud to be—even if we’re still the only people here that really know I was.”

George thought about saying it again—a third time—but he didn't think he could stomach the trade of an oblivious, neutral response to his intended confession for open, undeniable, almost amplified (possible) rejection.

Instead, he kissed Matty again. He braced his hand on the console and caught Matty's lips again before he moved all the way back into the passenger seat. Matty broke the kiss—without pulling away—with a near-muffled, definitely mumbled confession of his own:

“I heard you, you know,” Matty said when George inquisitively pulled away at the sound spoken against his lips. “After you played my song—what I told you not to forget; I heard you. I-I just wanted to see if you’d say it again. If you wanted to—If you meant it.”

“Do—would you like me to... say it again?” George asked. It was a nicer response than quietly pleading, please don’t break my heart. I’m sorry if I—

“No, no, you don’t owe me another one," Matty held the sides of George's face, anticipating his emotional and physical retreat and apology. "Especially since I still haven’t answered.”

“You don’t have to right now. Let's just go home and—"

“George, I think I should tell the man I’m in love with that I do love him, don’t you? Seems like a reasonable thing to do.”

George reached for Matty's face, holding him and trying to get a good look at the man in love with him. Trying to spot the moment Matty would break, would maybe lie and soften what he'd admitted to. Matty held his joyful—and increasingly teary—look at George.

"You do?"

"Yes! Yes, George. I love you! Of course I do." Matty laughed and pulled George in again. His hands dropped from holding George's face to rest flat on his chest. Feel the beat of his heart.

"Wait," George muttered, turning his face to break the kiss but not pull away. "Say it one more time... For me?"

#gatty #gatty fic #matty x george #george daniel x matty healy #producer george and TA matty fic #andfacedown fics #(not yet i know but shh)#producer george oneshot #THANK YOU for waiting & enjoy MWAH!!

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81norris · 1 year

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and it's lights out, and away we go ☆

this is an 18+ blog, minors dni

☆•°. * hi !! welcome on my page, my name's bunny, i use she/her and i'm 20! i am french but everything that you'll read here will be in english!

*+:｡i am an f1 enthusiast first, human second, here i will be thirsting, screaming but mostly writing so make yourself comfortable and i hope you'll enjoy what you read! please be polite and remember that feedback is always appreciated!

i do NOT that requests at the moment !

xoxo, bunny ♡

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 #lando norris #oscar piastri #daniel ricciardo #charles leclerc #max verstappen #imagine #smut #oneshot #esteban ocon #pierre gasly #george russell #f1 fanfic #f1 drivers #f1 smut

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talkingtomattyaboutit · 1 year

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Bad Decisions

A/N: this is my first fic so pls be nice haha. it’s been probably 5 years since i’ve written anything other than poetry so i would appreciate constructive criticism!! also, i got the ideas for this after getting high and had a dream about being with matty lol. and if you like this and have an idea for a request let me know!! i love writing and i struggle with ideas sometimes. i also am experimenting with different povs so the next one might be different.

warnings: smut (18+), cheating, drugs, spanking, choking, degradation, bit of cnc i guess?, littlest bit of exhibitionism, violence, blood

prompt: Y/N is dating George, she gets high with Matty and cheats on George. “You’re a dirty fucking girl,” and “Tell me I’m better than him.” Also inspired by the video of Matty yelling “FUCKING SAY IT!!

5,586 words

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I couldn't help but feel anxious in this situation. I often struggled with anxiety, but this felt different. There I was, sitting alone in the living room of my boyfriend's house. George must have been running late from his 'errands' he had to complete after school. I wasn't stupid, I knew that George always stole some money from his parents to buy coke and weed before they went on a trip. Though sweet, George had little to no self-control or responsibility.

His parents had gone out of town for the week on an anniversary vacation, leaving George by himself. They knew he was capable of surviving on his own for a week, even if that meant eating frozen pizzas every day while they were gone. I always made fun of him for his lack of 'adult skills' that most 17-year-olds have. The boy couldn't even do his own laundry, yet he insisted on moving in with Matty after graduation. I couldn't imagine that duo living together.

The anxiety returned to my chest as I heard a noise come from upstairs of the house. I quickly rose from the couch, walking slowly towards the front door. Did someone break in? I heard heavy but slow footsteps making their way closer to the staircase. I couldn't see the figure, but I heard their low mumbles.

"Who's there?" I questioned, the fear evident in my tone. I knew George's parents would be furious if their house got broken into. I held my breath in, hoping that would mask my fear.

I soon saw two tattooed feet step down the staircase. They were followed by the shadow of long legs, a bare torso, and a mop of curly hair. Matty. Of course.

"Aw, how sweet, you came here for me? I always knew you wanted me more than George." He said with a smirk. He continued his walk down the stairs, meeting me at the bottom.

"Oh fuck off," I let go of the air I was holding in, relieved that there was no threat at all. Except for a threat to my sanity.

"Did I scare you, love?" He questioned. "No, I just didn't know anyone was here. Why are you here?" George hadn't mentioned anyone arriving early, and by the looks of it, Matty had just woken up. His hair was disheveled and the bags under his eyes made me guess that it was a long night. Every night was a long night for Matty.

"George let me stay last night. Too hungover to go home, plus I don't feel like seeing my dad. Not in the mood to deal with that prick." He sauntered over to the sofa, grabbed the television remote, and plopped down. He turned the TV on and opened the Netflix app.

I didn't know when George would get back, so I made my way to the sofa and sat across from Matty. I had only known Matty for a few months, as George introduced me to him shortly after we started dating. I thought Matty was alright. He was funny, and a bit narcissistic, but a good friend to George.

Matty opened Breaking Bad on the TV and pressed play. He reached into his pocket and pulled out what I assumed was a joint, along with a lighter. "How sweet, you saved one for me." I joked, but he rolled his eyes and lit the joint.

"Do you actually want some?" He asked, holding the joint in the corner of his mouth.

"No! I’ve never even smoked before, you know that.” I scoffed at him. I may have hung out with George and Matty’s crowd, but I definitely did not fit in with them. They threw parties often, which I attended, but I never partook in any of their activities. I sat out on most things, cigarettes, joints, alcohol, and even spin the bottle. The hard drugs I never dared to touch, and George didn’t know that I knew they did any.

“Doll, it’s about time you try some. You’ve hung out with us enough. Time to drop the innocent schoolgirl act. Besides, I know what you and George get up to,” He said with a smirk on his face. My eyes widened at his admission. There’s no way George would have told Matty what we did.

“What do you mean, ‘what you get up to’? What did he say?” I questioned, turning my body to face him.

He chuckled and took another drag of his joint. “Let’s see, titty fucking, spanking, and the story of when he took your virginity. Losing it in the backseat of a car is very dirty, Y/N.”

My face was flushed pink. I turned away, fearful that Matty would comment on it. “I can’t believe he would tell you that,” I sighed.

“Darling, don’t worry about it. We’re best mates, after all. Here, let me help you get your mind off of him,” He said, scooting closer to me.

“Matty, what are you doing?” I questioned.

“Nothing, just relax. I’m going to take a hit of this and you’re going to inhale the smoke. It’ll help you feel better, trust me,” He said with a sly grin

“O-okay? I’m not going to get high am I?”

“‘Course not, love,”

Matty’s fingers brought the joint to his lips. His cheeks hollowed, sucking the smoke into his mouth. He ushered for me to come closer, so I did. Our faces were inches apart, yet not close enough for him. He grabbed the back of my head, pulling me closer to him. His lips were almost connecting mine. It felt wrong, the ultimate betrayal to George, but it felt so exciting at the same time. I had never done a ‘wrong’ thing in my life, yet here I am with my lips inches away from the personification of the word wrong.

Matty’s thumb rested below my bottom lip, slowly pulling my lips apart. His lips parted, allowing the smoke to enter my mouth.

“Close your mouth. Hold the smoke in and then inhale,” He whispered. My heart felt like it was beating out of my chest, but I submissively followed his orders. I felt the smoke burn my throat, causing me to cough violently.

“There it is. Such a good girl,” He whispered.

“Now what do we do?” I asked.

“You’ll start to feel high in like 20 minutes.”

I jumped up from my seat on the couch. My head was already feeling lighter, but that wasn’t going to stop me. “Matty! You told me I wouldn’t get high from that!” I exclaimed.

“How stupid are you? You seriously thought inhaling smoke from a joint wouldn’t do anything to you?” He argued

“I’m out of here. I can’t fucking believe you,” I grabbed my phone from the couch and stuck it between the band of my skirt. I almost made it into the kitchen before a hand grabbed my wrist.

“Y/N, you can’t leave. I’m not letting you wander the streets while you’re high. Get back in there and sit down,” He commanded. His face showed no signs of humor, he must have been serious.

I was losing all self-control, my mind quickly became fuzzy, and threw all responsibility out the window. “Why should I? You lied to me and called me stupid.”

“Y/N, don’t make me say it again. Sit. Down.” He glared down at me, him being easily a few inches taller. Though not as tall as George, the tone in his voice certainly made him seem like it.

I kept my mouth shut, worried I would get reprimanded again. I sighed in defeat. He led me back to the couch and let go of my wrist.

I sat down again and examined the red mark on my wrist. The sight made me shiver. I shouldn’t have liked his harsh grip on me or his harsh words, but I did. George never treated me that way, other than some light spanking when he took me from behind. George was a true gentleman, a kind soul who would do anything for his girl. George treated me like a queen. Matty was the antithesis of George.

Matty was pure darkness, a true mystery. He was unpredictable to others and himself. He was impulsive, daring, and free. Matty was the type of person they teach you to stay away from in school. He truly cared about no one other than himself. Yet, at that moment, he showed a glimpse of care when I insisted on leaving.

“I feel funny,” I whispered to him, my voice now soft and quiet. I let out a giggle on accident. My brain was no longer able to control my body and I knew Matty would enjoy it.

“Good. You’re supposed to.”

“Do you feel funny?”

“Not especially. I’m used to it. But this is your first time, tell me everything you feel.”

I leaned back into the couch, watching Matty attentively. His curly brown hair was out of control, yet perfect. His brown eyes were full of mystery, yet full of passion. His arms were visible thanks to his lack of a shirt. His veins were prominent, almost coercing me towards him. He was sinful.

“I feel like I’m doing something bad,” I said truthfully

“Love, it’s just a bit of weed. It won’t hurt you.”

“No, not that. I keep thinking about you and it feels wrong,” I admitted.

He smirked and sat up from his previous laying position on the couch. “Oh yeah? What are you thinking about?” He questioned. His tone caused my body to feel warm. Matty’s voice was like a drug. I knew I should stay away, yet I kept going back for more.

“Your hands. They’re veiny and they look nice. And your lips whenever you let the smoke into my mouth,” I was hesitant with my words. Even my high brain knew this was wrong.

Matty scooted closer to me, only inches away. His hand moved to rest on my bare knee. “My hands, huh? Well, I’ve been thinking about you too. What my hands could do to you, if you’d let me,” He coaxed.

His hand slowly traveled up my thigh. His fingers rubbed small circles into my skin. My hips involuntarily rose from the couch to meet his grip. He chuckled lightly at my actions.

“Matty, w-we can’t. I’m dating George,” I protested, unsure if I was trying to convince him or myself.

“Y/N, don’t think about George right now. I can make you feel way better than he can,” He whispered into my ear. I let out a sigh mixed with a moan. My head was spinning from the weed and the tension. His fingers felt like both ice and fire at the same time. He was slowly taking over my body. It was evident that I was losing this battle. I could feel the wetness under my skirt. If his fingers moved a few more inches he would be sure to feel it.

“Okay…just a little,” I gave in.

As soon as Matty heard those words leave my mouth, he got to work. He crashed his lips into mine and pulled me into his lap. My hips ground into his slowly. His hands were woven through my hair, gripping and pulling at the strands. I moaned at his pulling, which brought a smirk onto his face.

I leaned down for more, addicted to the taste of weed and tobacco on his lips. His hands traveled quickly from my hair to my back. He slipped his hands under my shirt and gripped my waist. I wasn’t skinny by any means, so I tried to hold myself up so I wouldn’t crush him.

“Babe, just relax. Let me take care of you,” He whispered in between kisses.

“I don’t want to crush you, I’m too heavy,” I whispered back.

“Is that what George tells you? Darling, don’t be afraid to give me your body,” He says and plants a kiss on my cheek.

He resumed his attack on my lips. I let go and laid on top of him fully. My hands were gripping the back of his neck while his moved down to my skirt. One hand gripped my waist while the other traveled under my skirt. His strong hand gripped my ass so tightly that I knew it would leave bruises.

I was becoming short of breath so I parted from our aggressive kiss. He gave my ass a sharp smack, “Did I say you could stop?”

“No, sir.”

“Good fucking girl,” He growled into my ear.

He tried to resume the kiss, but I shoved him back lightly. He looked at me both confused and irritated. I leaned up to take my shirt off, leaving me only in my black skirt and sports bra.

“Let me see all of you, baby,” He said as he lifted my bra above my head. He threw the garment across the room and returned his focus to my body.

His eyes left mine, lowering to my newly exposed breasts. One hand returned to my ass underneath my skirt, while the other gripped at my breast. I let out a loud moan at the contact. It had been a few weeks since George touched me like that.

Matty’s mouth attached to my nipple, sucking and pulling on it lightly. He groped my ass and pulled me closer to him. He repeated this, allowing me to grind into him once again. I could feel his hardness poking my inner thigh. I would gladly help him out, but he seemed to be content with worshiping my body.

His lips left my breast. “Take your skirt off,” He commanded.

I did as he said. I got up from being on top of him and pulled my skirt down my legs. The only thing covering me was my light pink underwear covered in little heart decals.

“So fucking sweet and innocent. Get on your knees for me.”

I lowered myself down onto my knees. He sat up, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. I helped him push his jeans off, leaving his black boxers on.

“Can I touch you, sir?” I asked, batting my eyelashes. I don’t know what overcame me, the weed or Matty, but I became a whole different person. My sex with George was slow and sweet. With Matty, I became a complete harlot, a sinner, a fallen angel.

“Yeah baby, touch my cock for me,” He said. He palmed his hard cock through his boxers, getting it ready for me to take it.

I grabbed the waistband of his boxers and slowly pulled them down. His hard length hit his stomach, tempting me closer. He was big. Not quite as thick as George's but similar in length. I could feel my mouth watering, a mixture of cotton mouth and pure lust.

My innocent eyes looked up at him through long lashes as I gave him an experimental tug. He stared down at me with an open mouth, no sign of pleasure or discomfort. I was nervous. This was only my third time doing this to a guy. I decided to follow my instincts.

I licked from his base to his tip. He sighed, leaning his head back and looking at the ceiling. I gave his tip a few kitten licks before I fully committed. His hands flew to my hair, forming a makeshift ponytail.

I took him into my mouth, starting slow at first. I bobbed my head up and down, staring into his eyes for approval. He moaned my name almost as if he knew I was seeking approval.

“Such a good little girl taking my cock. I know you can take more,” He groaned.

I continued taking his length in my mouth before sinking down all the way, his tip reaching the back of my throat. I had his entire length in my mouth, my eyes were watering, and I was gripping his thighs tightly. He pulled me off by his grip on my hair.

“Fucking hell, Y/N, George never told me you were that good.” He smiled down at me.

Those words should’ve made me do a double-take. I should’ve stopped everything and walked out. I should have. But I didn’t.

Matty pushed my head back down onto his cock. He gripped the sides of my head and quickly thrust into my mouth. His tip was reaching the back of my throat with every thrust. The sounds coming from my mouth were unholy. My spit was running down his length and thighs. I’m sure there would be stains on this couch.

Matty pulled me off his length again. “I need to taste you, baby. It’s not fair he gets you whenever he wants.”

He lifted me up by my arms. “Jump,” He adds. I do as I’m told. He catches me, holding me up by my ass. I can feel his length resting against my ass and I let out a moan. Matty walks us over to the stairs before I interject.

“What are you doing?” I question.

“Taking you upstairs, love.”

He walks us upstairs, clearly struggling to hold my weight with his lanky arms. He kicks open the door to a room I know all too well. I’m thrown onto George’s bed. Images of my lovely boyfriend flood my head. It should be him with me right now, throwing me around and pushing me onto my knees. Matty is staring down at me like I’m his prey, not wanting to waste a second before devouring me.

“Close the door,” I add.

Matty leans down. I feel a sting on my cheek before I even hear it. Matty gripped the cheek he had just slapped. “You’re in no place to make demands.”

“Sorry, sir. What if he comes back?” I was worried about George walking in on us. I wasn’t worried much about getting caught cheating, I was more worried about not being able to finish underneath Matty.

“He’s not coming back soon. I texted him when you got here and told him to get food with Adam for the party.”

I sighed in relief. My high brain only wanted one thing; Matty. The weed made everything feel 100 times stronger, his touches, his words, even his presence. Everything went straight to my core.

Matty pushed me up further on the bed. “I wanna taste you, can I?” He asked.

I nodded, not being able to make out any words. I felt like putty in his hands. I couldn’t think or speak. All I could do was react to his touch.

He spread my legs and pulled down my pink panties. The cool air hit my core, causing me to shut my legs. “Keep them open, Y/N. Don’t make me tell you twice.”

He forged my legs open again and ran a finger down my stomach. He reached my pelvis and applied a slight amount of pressure. “You’re gonna feel me here real soon, baby. I’ll show you how a real man fucks,” He groaned.

His finger traveled slowly down to my clit. He rubbed little circles on my clit, causing my legs to jolt up and almost hit his face. He chuckled at my eagerness. His finger slipped down to gather my wetness.

“Holy fuck, you’re dripping.”

“It’s all for you, Matty.”

“It fucking better be.”

He dipped a finger into my entrance as if to test the waters. I moaned loudly, not having felt this kind of intrusion in weeks. He kept his finger still, waiting for more of a reaction. I huffed, needing more. I lowered my hips down, fucking myself slowly on his finger.

“Greedy little whore. You want me that bad? Beg for it.” He commanded. Strands of his hair were falling out of place, one stray curl was covering part of his eyebrow. He looked beautiful, gorgeous even. He and I both knew I would do anything he said.

“Please, Matty. Please, Please, Please. I’ve been so good for you. You’re so fucking hot, I want you inside of me so badly, please. Please fuck me with your fingers until I can’t walk, please baby.” I cried out.

He smiled, accepting my plea. He plunged his finger further into me, quickly thrusting in and out. He leaned down and licked a stripe up from my entrance to my clit. He began to lick in circles around my sensitive clit. I moaned, and my hand reached down to grip his dark locks.

He added another finger inside me, stretching me out enough for him. The thrusts of his fingers were quick and deliberate. His fingers were long and calloused and they hit the right spots in me. I moaned his name and pulled roughly on his hair.

He slapped my thigh, “Don’t pull my hair you fucking bitch.”

I moaned loudly, surely loud enough for the neighbors to hear. This was nothing new for them, as George and I frequently had fun over the summer. The loudness and shrillness may have been new for them, as George had never made me feel anything as pleasurable.

Matty’s fingers slipped out from inside me. I groaned at the loss of fullness. The fullness was comforting, knowing this was the closest I could possibly be to another human being. His body and mine, intertwined for a short period of time.

“Are you ready for me, baby girl?” He asked. He got on his knees, hovering over me. One hand rested on my knee, keeping my legs apart. The other hand was moving up and down on his length.

“Yes, sir, please give it to me. I want you so bad,” I said, yet it almost came out as a squeak. I was breathing hard and the weed was causing me anxiety. My fears and anxiety were silenced by Matty slowly pushing into me.

We both moaned in unison. He pinned one of my hands down, my other hand was palming my breasts. “Don’t touch yourself, that’s my job,” He grunted.

He pushed his long length into me until he finally bottomed out. He and I were both shaking from the ecstasy of sex and drugs combined. He pulled out slowly, then thrust back into me. I let out a cry, the pace being too slow.

“Faster, Matty, faster.” I cried.

“Don’t tell me what to fucking do. You want faster? I’ll give you fucking faster,” He pummeled into me harshly, forcing my head to hit the bed frame. He didn’t stop for me, he wouldn’t stop for anything. He continued his quick and deliberate thrusts. He gave my cheek a light slap and pulled on my hair.

“Ugh, I’ve wanted this so fucking badly for so long. Take it, baby.” He groaned. I knew it was probably the weed talking, but my heart still fluttered at his words.

My hand gripped the back of his neck and brought him down for a kiss. Our lips devoured each other’s, our tongues battled for dominance. My battle was short-lived, as we both knew I was just a toy for him to ruin. I was okay with that. My fantasy of finally doing something wrong was coming true. I felt like a true sinner.

“You’re a dirty fucking girl, aren’t you? Look at you all fucked out on my cock. Fucking say it, say you’re a dirty fucking girl, Y/N,” he growled. His hand came down on the sides of my throat, squeezing enough to make me even more lightheaded.

I couldn’t speak. His cock pounding into me at a harsh speed was overwhelming. His hand on my throat, his other hand pinning me down, was pushing me over the edge. I let out a small squeak, trying to warn him of my closeness.

He slapped my cheek again, “Fucking say it!” He yelled, quickening his pace. I felt my eyes roll back into my head as my body let go. I had never had an orgasm while high before. It felt unearthly. My body shook, and I felt my core clenching and unclenching around him while he continued thrusting into me. I was seeing colors and I blocked out all noise, including Matty’s grunts and moans. I felt like I was on a cloud.

I was smacked out of my orgasm, literally, by Matty. “Little slut can’t speak when she’s spoken to and she comes without permission. Little girl needs to learn her lesson.” He pulled out of me quickly and flipped me over onto all fours.

I arched my back, knowing that’s what he wanted to see. He moaned and planted a firm smack onto my ass. He pushed back inside me, not waiting for me to readjust at all.

His pace did not falter. The new angle allowed him better access to my g-spot, which he hit perfectly.

“Say you’re a dirty fucking girl,” He moaned into my ear.

“I’m a dirty fucking girl! I’m such a slut for you, Matty! You feel so good,” I moaned out.

“That’s it. You’re doing so good for me. So tight.”

“Give it to me, Matty. Make me come again please!”

My cries were silenced by his hand over my mouth. I grunted into his hand, I wanted everyone in the neighborhood to know how good Matty’s cock felt inside of me.

“Tell me I’m better,” He groans and lifts his hand from my mouth. He places his hands on my hips, slamming my hips back against his.

“What?” I question. He couldn’t be referring to George, could he?

“George, tell me I’m better than George. Has he ever made you come like this, baby?”

His hips pause. He lifts me up and pressed my back against his chest. He holds me up by my arms, his face right next to mine.

I look him directly in the eyes. “You’re so much fucking better than him.”

He moans and pounds into me once again. “Fuck, Y/N, I’m gonna come. Where do you want me?”

“I-I’m close too. Come inside me, Matty, please. He’s never done that before,” I moan into his ear.

My brain was so fuzzy, I didn’t process the sound of the front door opening or the sound of George and Adam laughing downstairs. Matty most certainly heard them since a wide grin appeared on his face.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m gonna come. Tell me I’m better again,” He whines.

My tits were bouncing, my mouth was agape. Matty’s eyes burned into mine, not daring to break eye contact. It was a sinful scene. It was a sight straight out of a porn. I reached down to rub circles at my clit, bringing myself closer to the edge.

“You’re better, Matty! You’re better than George!” I screamed with one final rub of my finger. My climax washed over me for the second time that day. I fell back onto Matty’s chest and my hands reached up to grab the curls at the nape of his neck.

I couldn’t process the sounds around me once again, but I felt Matty’s thrusts slow until he pounded into me one last time. I could feel his warmth shoot through me. He grabbed onto my tits and bit into my neck. He stayed inside me and continued thrusting, slower this time, to ride our highs.

Everything came crashing down when I heard a loud, “WHAT THE FUCK?”

My eyes shot open. I turned my head to find George standing in the doorway, Adam a few feet behind him in the hallway. George’s face was red, his hands balled into fists. Adam walked closer to him and held him back by George’s shoulders.

Matty smirked and pushed me back onto all fours. The high combined with my two orgasms had completely overtaken me. I was floating in another realm and I couldn’t control my body. I knew what was happening, I just couldn’t move or say anything.

Matty pounded into me again, pushing his cum further into me. “Sorry, mate, just finishing up here.” He said with a sly smirk on his face.

“GET THE FUCK OFF OF HER” George screamed, lunging toward Matty. Adam, the saint he was, tried to keep George back but George was ultimately too strong.

Matty was ripped away from me and thrown onto the floor, completely naked. “I think you mean out of her, Georgey.” He laughed.

His attitude was sickening, but god was it hot. I was unsure of his goal, either to make George mad or to keep fucking me. He obviously had no problem with fucking in front of people. I began to wonder if he was some kind of exhibitionist or if he had done this before.

George threw punches at Matty, Matty tried to block them but was unsuccessful. Adam quickly ran over, struggling to pull George off of Matty. I was laid on the bed, covered up by one of George’s blankets.

“George, please, stop!” I cried. He didn’t listen. Tears were falling from my eyes, the high making it more intense.

Somewhere, somehow during all of this, Ross ran up the stairs and helped Adam pull away an infuriated George. George managed to get one final hit in, a kick to Matty’s side. Matty was on the floor, nose covered in blood and curled up. He was clutching onto his side and his nose.

“Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on?” Ross asked, clearly confused about why George was beating the shit out of his best friend, but also why Matty was naked.

“Matty was fucking my girlfriend in my bed!” George shouted. I crawled up further into George’s bed as if somehow it would make me disappear.

George looked at me with venom in his eyes. He pointed at me, tears threatening to fall from his eyes, “You,”

I sobbed into his blanket. He marched towards me and ripped the blanket from my grasp. He looked down at my naked body, bruises and red marks scattered across me.

“Why the fuck would you do this to me?” He said, choking back the tears.

“I-I don’t know, George. We were high a-and,”

“Save it. Get the fuck out of my house.” George demanded.

“B-But,”

“Y/N, you both have 3 minutes to get the fuck out of my house or I will actually kill him,” George said. He wouldn’t even look at me. I looked to Adam and Ross for help, but they showed no mercy as well.

“I need my clothes. Can someone get my clothes from downstairs? A-And his,” I looked over at Matty.

Adam nodded and exited the room. George stood there with his arms crossed and his head down. Ross had his hand placed on George’s shoulder. Not much, but a sign of comfort.

Adam shortly returned with our clothes, clearly not happy about the situation. He threw the pile of clothes on the bed. The three men walked out of the room and shut the door. I could hear George’s sobs through the door.

I pulled out my bra, underwear, shirt, and skirt. I quickly slipped the garments on and gathered Matty’s clothes in my arms.

I reached down and pulled him up by his arm, helping him sit on the bed. I used the sleeve of my shirt to wipe some of the blood from his face. I helped him slip his boxers and sweatpants on, quickly realizing he didn’t have a shirt on earlier.

I looked around the room in search of a shirt that could be Matty’s. I found one on the floor by George’s desk. I grabbed the shirt and helped Matty slip it on.

“We gotta hurry up and go,” I whispered

“He’s my best friend, Y/N, I can’t lose him,” He cried and rested his head on my shoulder.

“I know, Matty, he’s my boyfriend. Or was? You wanted to get high, Matty. You started this.”

“Bullshit, Y/N, you enjoyed it just as much as I did.”

“I did, I loved it. But we can talk about this later, I can’t watch you get hurt again,” I said, standing up. I offered a hand to Matty, which he accepted.

I held onto Matty’s arm, almost for protection. I knew Matty was not capable of protecting me right now, nor would he even want to. I opened the door slowly. They weren’t standing there.

Matty and I walked down the stairs together. I was careful not to touch his side where George kicked him. “I’ll take you home and clean you up, okay?” I whispered to him.

He nodded. We were then met with the three men standing near the front door.

George walked up to me and looked directly into my eyes. “In case you didn’t figure it out, we’re over. That goes for both of you. Matty, I never want to see you again. I’m done helping you. And as for you, I can’t believe you would cheat on me. You broke my heart, Y/N.”

I hid my face in Matty’s arm. I couldn’t look at George. I couldn’t believe that I did such a thing. The high was wearing off, and I was faced with the consequences of my actions.

We walked out the door without another word. Matty and I walked a short distance away from George’s house until we found a bench by the sidewalk. We sat down. Silence.

“So…what now?” I asked, looking at Matty.

He laughed and put his arms behind his head. “Round two at my place?”

#matty healy x reader #matty healy #the 1975 #matty healy smut #matty healy imagine #matty healy fanfiction #george daniel #matty x reader #matty the 1975 #matty healy fic #matty healy oneshot #the 1975 smut

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alovesreading · 2 years

Text

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

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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!

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