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alovesreading · 4 months

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'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.

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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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abiiors · 11 months

Text

Lessons in Patience

oh, uh, happy birthday to him and time for me to disappear after posting this...

warnings: minors dni, orgasm denial, she/her pronouns, maybe just a smidge toxic idk, cockwarming??? typos maybe; it is what it is, anyway enjoy...

wc: 4k

the minimalist, modern round clock on the wall ticks by mercilessly slow.

the office is fully his space, designed to his tastes and likes, and she, the intruder. sure, she’s a very very welcome intruder but an interloper regardless. and there’s not much she can do but peak at her husband over the edge of the book she’s been reading for the past half an hour. or trying to at least. just in the last five minutes, she’s read the same three lines at least seven times. it’s of no use but, the other option is to sit and stare at ross while he works. which is always a good option. except today.

in his fitted black button-down, that’s tastefully unbuttoned, he looks like the stuff of her fantasies. he has always been, of course, but the way his gold chain peeks out and grazes the hollow of his throat every time he moves, makes her think all kinds of thoughts. his mouth is parted in concentration, pink lips that he occasionally gnaws on, and his thick brows furrow as he intensely stares at whatever’s on the screen.

and while it’s enough to turn her thoughts extremely filthy, the realisation that he hasn’t been paying her any attention douses cold water on her for the millionth time.

‘ross,’ she calls out, desperately trying to keep the neediness out of her voice, ‘how much longer?’

he hums distractedly without looking up, ‘need to read this thing before i sign it, my love.’

obviously, that’s not the answer she’s looking for. “need to read the thing” can range from anywhere between ten minutes to an hour, and he’s so focused on it too.

‘baby, take a break!’

he shakes his head minutely, ‘we just had lunch, darling, an hour ago.’

‘yeah, but…’ she trails off because it’s useless. he’s clearly not listening.

bent over his slick macbook, hand rubbing his face occasionally, he is the utter portrait of focus. her mind wanders to the drawers of his desk where she knows she’ll find the small toy. this is not her first rendezvous here; nor would it be her last. that desk has seen a lot of things; from their first scandalous hookup in a moment of weakness, to multiple quickies when she has come over. there was even that one time when she had knelt between his legs as he tried to focus on a zoom interview. matty had gone on and on with his thoughtful answers till ross eventually muted the thing and tangled his fingers in her hair. she snickers at the sudden sympathy she feels for the inanimate object. not that it makes ross waver even a smidge. if only, he leans closer to the screen. it’d certainly be a shame if she were to be a…distraction.

because there is always a third option.

she pushes herself off the plush settee and saunters over to him purposefully. this has been going on for a week now and she’s had enough of it! enough of him coming home by the time she’s just starting her day, enough of him being dead asleep by the time she returns. and this is not to blame him, of course. she knows how busy he can get once they start getting closer to the release date. but she’s had enough of not seeing him for more than a few hours throughout the week. despite them living together.

a finger trails down the side of his jaw. down his neck too. she makes sure to use her nail, red-painted and sharp, and halts it right over his pulse point.

‘lunch was two hours ago.’ a pout. an exaggerated one, sure, but it does the job because he chuckles at her restlessness.

‘fine, two hours ago. that’s still not a long time.’

‘isn’t it?’ now she’s just being petulant. she leans down, lips hovering right over where her finger was just a moment ago and trails them down his neck the same way. he stills. ‘it could be great if you took a quick break…’

this she whispers suggestively and leaves the thought half-finished so his brain might try and fill in the gaps. and it works like a charm.

‘oh,’ he breathes softly, his focus now wavering slightly, but he hasn’t set the laptop aside and turned all his attention to her. not yet.

‘baby…’ he warns but his voice lacks its usual conviction. torn between work and wife, ross fidgets for a second. ‘i only need a little more time…’

‘you’ve said that to me twice already.’ another kiss. this time, she even strokes his bicep and the muscles under his black shirt respond to her touch.

‘oh you’re impatient, aren’t you?’ he turns to her partially, only looking at her through the corner of his eye but it’s enough. she’s so close to achieving her goal that she can almost taste it.

taste him.

‘so what if i am?’

‘i said,’ his voice takes on a commanding tone, ‘wait a little more.’

on any other day, she would have obeyed the tone almost instantly. she likes their little routine where he’s in control, likes riling him up enough that he reminds her of it. not today though. today she has no patience fo it.

‘and i said,’ she grits out, equally testy and bold, ‘i want your attention.’

‘that’s all you want?’ he challenges.

‘mmm, for now.’

cheekily, she sidles up to him to find an in, one opening to slide onto his lap. but with one huge hand on her hip, he holds her firmly in place.

ross shakes his head, one eyebrow raised in warning, ‘are you in a mood?’

about to protest indignantly, she opens her mouth. instead, a squeal comes out when he sharply tugs her towards him.

‘are you that desperate for me?’ he asks again when she’s firmly trapped between his thighs. his voice, his whole demeanour has shifted entirely. now the man in front of her is staring at her intently; his pupils so dilated that his eyes look black. and she’s not just trapped physically, no, he also has her hooked on him. because she simply cannot look away even when a flush creeps up her cheeks.

‘answer me, darling,’ he mocks while his fingers grip her hips even tighter. ‘not going to run your mouth anymore?’

that snaps her back quickly, just as quickly as the wetness pools between her legs. ‘and if i say yes?’ she challenges right back, ‘are you going to do something about it?’

another sudden tug and now she’s landed right in his lap, right where she has been trying to get. her breath leaves her body the minute she feels his bulge press against her crotch.

‘oh you really are being a brat today, huh.’ fingers grabbing harshly at her chin so he can make her look at him, ‘my little attention whore. you want my cock? will that shut you up?’

she nods as much as his grip allows her to. still, it’s enthusiastic and more than a little desperate. the sound of him unzipping his trousers makes her grind her hips in anticipation. her hands move swiftly, fidgeting to take him out of his trousers and boxers but ross wraps a hand around her wrist.

the man has saintly patience. and right now it’s a fucking problem.

‘you only get,’ he speaks slowly, as if to drill each word into her, ‘what i give you. do you understand?’

too eager to even protest, she nods quickly but he’s not satisfied. ‘use your words, my love,’ he taunts and slides her underwear to the side, ‘tell me you understand.’

‘i do,’ she whines, ‘i’ll only get what you give me. but please, just—’

she’s cut off quickly by a harsh kiss; teeth biting her lower lip till she gasps. his tongue runs over the spot, soothing and teasing before he slips it inside her mouth. his hands, once again back on her hips, lift her up until she feels the familiar feeling of his tip nudging against her.

she slowly sinks onto him, adjusting to the delicious thickness of him, stretched out just enough to straddle the boundary between painful and pleasurable. mindnumbing.

his hands hold her down, giving her time to adjust to him she thinks, but…

but when she tries to move, he doesn’t let her.

‘ah ah,’ he tuts, ‘what did i just say? you,’ he kisses the corner of her mouth, ‘will only,’ another kiss, ‘get what i give you.’

and with that he turns around to his laptop once again, completely unfazed by anything.

flabbergasted would be an understatement.

for a moment, nothing else registers. not the desk digging into her back, not the clacking of his keys, not even his breath on her neck. the only thing she feels is him, thick and hard inside her and the urge to move, to grind against him, to create some friction. the ache between her legs intensifies tenfold.

‘wha—’

‘you wanted my attention so desperately and now you have it.’ he answers it so nonchalantly that she wonders for one insane moment if she’s imagining him inside her. ‘now are you going to be a good girl let me finish this?’

‘no–’

‘or are you going to complain and whine?’

his interruptions have her seething. this is torture and he’s doing it on purpose; making her keep his dick wet while he continues to ignore her. and acting like the feeling of her tight cunt and her hard breathing doesn’t bother him one bit when she can feel him twitching inside her.

what had he called her before? a brat? she’ll show him what a brat is.

with renewed determination, she lifts up her hips, ready to sink down on him again, ready to set the pace but he calls out her name in warning. a sound that sends a million shivers down her spine.

‘i’m going to give you one last chance.’ his eyes bore into hers, dark and unflinching, ‘be still for me. until i tell you to move. you know what good girls get?’

oh so now he wants to play games. fine then, she’ll indulge him. ‘what?’

he leans closer, mouth right next to her ear, breath hot on her neck, ‘good girls get to cum. you want that don’t you?’

yes, yes she does, very desperately. but she doesn’t like his tone, doesn’t like being denied things after displaying a saintly amount of patience all week.

‘i can make myself cum,’ she huffs. her tone is not nearly as haughty as she wants it to be but haughtiness is not the point of this. this is a trap and she needs him to walk into it. take the bait.

ross only raises an eyebrow because seemingly, he knows her better than she knows herself at this point. he’s calling her bluff.

‘no, i’m serious!’ her hand trails down, making sure to graze against his chest on the way. heart beating faster than ever, she smirks at him right as she rests it right above her clit.

he moves, just the smallest amount, and a jolt of lightning runs through her entire body so fast that she almost falls onto him. she can imagine this, face into the crook of his neck while he lazily fucks into her, slowly and leisurely until she’s had enough of this pace. then he would grab her hips and make her bounce up and down on his cock till she’s limp with pleasure.

all of this if she showed some patience.

but no.

she wants him now. not twenty, ten, five minutes later. now.

her finger rests on her clit and she sucks in a sharp breath, about to flip the tables on him. she’s salivating at the idea…oh, how tortured he would look, how angry. he would surely forget all about his work then…

a hand roughly closes around her wrist and yanks it away. her eyes meet his, dark and angry. no, he’s livid.

‘i warned you, love. didn’t i?’

*****

a buzzing sound fills the room, almost menacing, while she lies splayed on the desk, hands tied together with his belt. a thrill of anticipation shoots down her spine. this is what she’s been waiting for all day, well a much tamer iteration of it but she has no one but herself to blame for it really. she had squealed the second he pulled out of her and cleared the desk with one swoop of his hand. not that there was much on it, to begin with, but watching him “prepare it” was thrilling just the same. plus there’s the knowledge that anyone can hear what’s going on. yes, his office is locked and almost sound-proof but who’s to say they won’t still be interrupted by a knock or a phone call or any other number of factors?

‘look at you…’ he walks towards her now, the tiny bullet vibrating in his hands. her underwear has long been discarded to one side and her dress is now pushed up to her stomach; all of her lower half on display for him. ‘all eager and pathetic.’

it seemed like all her brattiness had paid off, it seemed like a reward…at first. but now the vibrator buzzes closer to her swollen clit, almost touching, almost—

her thoughts are cut off when he abruptly presses it against her. a sharp cry rings out, her legs going taut instantly as she melts into the sensation. he moves it again, down her slit and back up again spreading delicious tingles all over her body.

‘feels so good…’ she breathes out. three words, that’s as much as she can get out at the moment.

‘does it?’

she hums in response, she thinks so anyway because the bullet circles her clit lightly again. the toy rests against her just long enough for her to get used to it before he moves it away. he ups the setting, making her jerk violently. it’s sudden, it’s amazing and she almost doesn’t register that there’s something in his tone.

‘just like that…’ she gasps softly as toy runs over her inner thighs and then against her opening.

‘just like that, yeah?’ he repeats her words back to her and she gasps out a yes in response. the darker tone lingers, but none of it matters as the familiar knot builds at the base of her spine. a moan as her back arches off the desk, she’s so close, so…

it stops.

he stops altogether.

a feeling of annoyance and borderline anger washes over her. ‘why did you stop?!’

through her half-open eyes, she can see his arched eyebrows, mouth quirked to one side in amusement. ‘you think you deserve to cum? what did i say to you before hmm?’

She tries to jog her memory while the bullet comes to life once again.

‘come on, darling,’ he mocks, ‘i haven’t got all day. what did i say before?’

he rests the vibrator on her lower stomach, inching it downward at a snails pace as she tries to come up with an answer, ‘umm, ahh, i don–i don’t remember.’

‘yes you do.’ his finger slides up her slit, collecting her wetness and spreading it on the tip of the bullet. ‘what did i say about getting to cum?’

‘ahh, oh,’ she tries to speak but it turns into breathless garble as soon as the tip nears her clit again. ‘you said—you said good girls get—fuck, ross please!’

‘good girls get what? hmm? go on,’ he asks again and lifts the bullet up and away from her leaving her feeling cold and whiney and much more frustrated than before. the belt digs into her wrists as she struggles against it, not enough to cause any serious harm, but she knows they would be red by now.

‘good girls get to cum,’ she spits out glaring at him with as much anger as she can muster. of course, he’s ready with his next question.

‘and have you been a good girl?’

the cycle starts again, vibrator purring right above her clit, then moving down mercilessly slow until her thoughts turn to mush and yet she’s somehow expected to form a coherent answer.

‘have you?’ he asks again, ‘really think about it.’ his thumb joins the vibrator this time, calloused and rough, as he rubs her in tandem.

‘i can be–i will be, plea–fuck, i promise please.’ a string of incoherent pleas come out of her mouth the harder he goes. her legs shake and spasm, she’s so close again, almost there, almost ready to make a mess on the table but ross has other plans.

he tuts and takes away her pleasure once again.

‘you can be, i know you can,’ he walks to her side, looking down at her now and parts her lips with the thumb that was on her clit a moment ago. ‘but have you been good today?’

thumb pushed in her mouth, she glares once again. tears form at her lower lashline but she won’t let them fall. instead, she flicks her tongue around his thumb in a silent plea.

she can be a good girl for him, she really can.

he laughs darkly and walks away again only to stand right between her legs. she imagines what she must look like to him from this angle. legs spread wide apart and her swollen cunt on display, her thighs must probably be a mess from her wetness. hands tied together above her head. and that he’s clearly enjoying as he eyes her hungrily.

the fire burns hot and hungry, ready to incinerate anything in its wake. her body burns with it; feverish and writing as she tries to grind on his face. his hands dig into her thighs keeping her still in place. she has no agency in this; she is only his plaything. what had she said before? she can make herself cum? well of course he had taken that as a challenge. because now, desperate as she is, nothing would make her let go until he says so.

and he won’t say it until he’s done having his fun.

‘so fucking sweet,’ he hums against her, ‘almost want to let you cum now so i can taste you…’

she’s sure she nods at that. yes, yes, do that. let me. it’s not just for her benefit, it’s for his too. but then he clicks his tongue softly.

‘but you know what they say about patience…’

she doesn’t. that’s what got her here in the first place.

his teeth are on her inner thigh, biting and leaving behind a million red marks that his tongue soothes an instant later. but it doesn’t stop there. his tongue is almost as cruel as his teasing. it laps at her, broad strokes and kitten licks, and swirls around her clit till her thighs are clenched around him and shaking, spasming. maybe he’s finally going to let her cum after denying her time and time again.

‘so close,’ she mumbles in a daze, ‘please i’m going to cum, please.’

‘no you’re not,’ he stops momentarily and her head spins. please not again, not again. the pressure inside her is painful, she feels like she’s about to burst into tiny pieces and yet he has his hand on her stomach, holding her down, holding her together.

‘hold it,’ he commands and sucks on her clit again.

‘i can’t–please, ross, i ca–can’t!’ the tears spill over and she doesn’t care about the begging any more.

‘yes you can,’ he gets up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘if you don’t hold it…well,’ he looks at his laptop and shrugs casually, ‘i do still have two pages left to read. should i–’

‘no!’ she cries out, holding onto the sobs that threaten to spill. for once she’s grateful for the belt tying her hands together, if it weren’t for that, she would have long since ripped out her hair in frustration. ‘no please, i’ll be good, i’ll be a good girl.’

that makes him smirk. ‘now you want to be a good girl for me? would this have happened if you would have sat still for twenty minutes? hmm?’

she shakes her head vigorously. no, it wouldn’t have. her head lolls to one side, too tired from shaking it and ross laughs. it’s languid and careless, like he really could just walk back to his macbook without a second thought. she could be lying almost spreadeagle on his desk all day and none of it would matter until he’s done.

‘my pretty baby,’ he coos, fingers trailing up her thigh and resting at the apex, ‘are you going to be a brat again?’

‘no,’ she mumbles and whines out his name again, ‘i–please, ross, please.’ those are the only words she’s capable of saying anyway. everything else has gone hazy and through it all she sees his lazy grin as he lowers his mouth between her legs again.

‘have you learned your lesson yet?’ spoken so close to her cunt that she feels his gravelly voice shoot straight to her core. she has no idea what she says but it must have satisfied him because his tongue is back on her, so is his thumb.

somewhere the buzzing starts again or it might just be her ears ringing at this point as she loses herself to the tingling feeling in her body. nothing else matters, only him and pleasing him and being a good girl for him. a jolt goes through her whole body at the touch of the vibrator once again. she can’t take it anymore, not again, not—

‘good,’ he hums, tongue dipped between her folds, ‘you can let go now.’

he doesn’t even finish the sentence before she’s moaning the loudest she has, screaming practically as her thighs clench around his head and the knot inside her breaks. waves after waves after waves of pleasure crashing on her until she’s practically drowning in ecstasy. there’s nothing else but his mouth and his voice. she doesn’t know anymore where they are or what day it is or how long she’s been here.

all she knows is that she’s trembling and shaking, head lolled to one side. coming down from her high and cold at the absence of his touch. a few minutes later his hands are back on her thighs along with something damp and cold that feels amazing against her skin. every small graze against her clit makes her wince and he apologises softly, first through his words and then by placing small kisses on her head, her shoulder, her hip, whatever’s closest to him.

‘baby?’ the leather around her wrists loosens and his fingers rub at the red marks as if that would make them go away. maybe they would dissipate a little.

‘hmm?’

she’s surrounded by his scent now and the feeling of his arms around her. ‘can’t keep your eyes open can you?’

‘mm-hmm.’

‘can’t do much of anything it seems.’ his voice is back to being kind and sweet but there’s also some teasing in it and of course, some smugness. he has just fucked her to within an inch of her life of course…and he didn’t shed a single item of clothing.

there’s a brief feeling of floating before she feels solid ground again, it’s a lap. ross’s lap.

‘we’re leaving in ten minutes,’ he tells her. but she’s too far gone to care.

#ross macdonald #ross macdonald fanfic #ross x reader #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald x you #ross x you #ross the 1975 #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald smut #the 1975 #the 1975 fic #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 smut #smut writing #matty healy #george daniel #adam hann #minors do not interact #smut

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nowujustlooklikeanyone · 1 year

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SMILEY ROSS, I REPEAT, ADORABLE HAPPY SMILING BEAUTIFUL ROSS MACDONALD

me when quiet reserved tall bearded man makes a facial expression🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🥰🤗🤗🤗🫶🫶🫶🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🥳😘

#crinkley eyesssss #literally my husband #soooo down bad #the 1975 #ross macdonald #ross the 1975 #BAEFY #actually the finest man on earth #i’m going crazy #matty healy #matty the 1975 #george the 1975 #george daniel #bfiafl #at their very best

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uramilf · 2 months

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Anything to do with Ross + fluff please 🙏 🥹🤭❤️🎀😍😘

Yes THANK YOU I have been in a Ross mood recently but I’m sick af so I’m going to reflect my current mood in this blurb 🥰

Ross didn’t want to leave you. He really didn’t. But he didn’t exactly have a choice, either. The tour was coming to an end, and his fans would go crazy if he wasn’t at the show. They couldn’t find another bassist at such short notice anyway. So he pressed one last kiss to your sweaty forehead and left you shivering in bed in the unfamiliar hotel room.

“Baby?” you called after him. “Don’t rush home, I’m ok. Go to the after party and have fun.”“Absolutely not,” he replied with a smile. “I’ll be back here before you know it.”

With that he was gone, off to the venue with the guys. He barely stopped texting you until half 8 on the dot, making sure you were ok every five minutes. The second he left the stage during “When We Are Together” he texted you again. You watched the entire livestream, of course, and people went crazy when they saw your Instagram username appear in the comment section with a heart emoji when Ross and Matty had one of their cute little moments. You imagined it would be the talk of Twitter the next day.

At almost midnight, Ross returned to the hotel room to find you fast asleep in the exact spot he left you in six hours prior.

“Wake up, baby,” he murmured, shaking your shoulder lightly. “I’m back.”

You rolled over to face your boyfriend, a smile forming on your half-asleep face.

“Hi darling. I watched the whole show, you were great.” You were still coughing and sniffling, causing Ross to frown.

“You could’ve been getting some sleep, pretty girl. You still not feeling good?”

“Not really, no.”

“Well, I’ll let you get back to sleep then,” Ross sighed, wishing it were him instead of you.

“No, not without you!” you pouted.

“Alright, give me two minutes then,” he smiled softly, secretly thrilled to hear that you don’t want to go to sleep without him being beside you.

A few minutes later he was back, in a pair of plaid pyjama trousers and an old Ramones t-shirt, climbing into bed beside you. He pulled you close straight away, kissing every part of your face and neck he could reach.

“Quit that, you’ll get sick!”

“Don’t care,” he mumbled, head buried into your chest now.

“Are the other guys out partying then?” you giggled softly, gently taking your boyfriend’s hair down and teasing his long locks through your fingers. He sighed in relief as you scratched at his head gently.

“Matty and George have gone out. No clue where, though, and I think Polly’s with them. Adam’s gone back to his room to call Carly. Not sure about everyone else.”

You continued to play with his long hair until he was practically snoring in your arms, making you laugh every couple of minutes. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep too though, feeling much better, and safer, now that Ross was back beside you where he belonged.

#the 1975 #ross macdonald #ross macdonald blurb #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald imagine #ross the 1975

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fanaticalfantasist · 6 months

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City Lights

Ross watched her from across the dressing room, she was stood leaning against one of the walls talking to Matty and George with a glass of rum and coke in her hand. She was giggling, her hair was falling in front of her face, the waves that ran effortlessly over her shoulders and breasts he was sure smelt amazing. Which was a weird thought, he knew but it was an odd thought to have but he couldn’t help it.

As she laughed, hitting George’s folder at a comment he made she made eye contact with him across the room a smile spreading across her perfect lips. She carefully excused herself and made her way across the room, he legs looked longer dressed in a short black cord mini skirt and those big boots which made her taller but not as tall as him. Without being noticed he slid out of the room and waited on the balcony that the dressing room had, looking over the city with it’s sparkling lights.

Taking a sharp breath as her hand rubbed up and down his back, “Hello handsome” her voice was perfect, just the perfect tone to him. He smiled noticing her shivering, he shrugged off his blazer and pulled it over her shoulders and pulled her into him.

“Hello beautiful” he said smirking down at her, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. He'd noticed that whenever he did this, a faint dusting of pink would spread itself over her cheeks. He loved it.

He wrapped his arms around her as they looked out over the city, his hands resting on her waist, her back against his. They watched the sparkling lights, each one bouncing off their eyes and were content in the silence of the moment. Back inside they could hear Matty's voice talking some nonsense, George egging him on and Adam's quite laugh. But it didn't matter now, they were content together.

Turning to look up at him she brushed loose strands of his hair, which had fallen out of his bun during the concert, from his face and smiled at him. He looked down, and in this moment in these lights he was never so sure of this feeling before.

"I love you" Ross said not breaking eye contact from her beautiful eyes, "I love you too" she said before stretching up on her tip toes and kissing him.

As the city lights danced around them, and their friends laughed inside, they were content in their love.

#ross macdonald #ross macdonald fluff #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald x you #the 1975 #ross the 1975

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mybrokenveins3000 · 8 months

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Freshers - College!Ross Macdonald

A/N: HII!! This is my first time writing anything on Tumblr, let alone the 1975 related. I hope you guys like it. Ignore how my grammar is all over the place, quotation marks and commas confuse me.

I move to university in about two weeks, I doubt anything like this will happen, but a girl can dream. Anyways, enjoy! Also, this is dedicated to @hypersonic04 <3

word count: 1.6k

♫ My Funny Girl - Harry Teardrop // Eighteen - Pale Waves

It's almost been a month since you moved to the city for university. Tonight, you're at a coursemate's flat for Pres. Trashy guilty-pleasure pop blasts through the speakers and you're busy avoiding people, drinking by the window. You watch the condensation trail behind a departing aeroplane over the cityscape. You're thinking about where you are now, the kind of people you brush shoulders with, and how easy it is to feel so desperately alone out here.

Despite the air of maturity and the swill of liquor in your mouth, it always shocked you how laughably predictable university boys can be - especially those on your Film course. It's been a month and you're already bored by the typical film bro spiel of "why Tarantino is the best director of all time" and how "there's something manic pixie dream girl about you".

Speaking of, you feel a tall, masculine shadow cast over you interrupting your intense thinking. Cue the "what's your favourite film" question, you think to yourself.

"What's your favourite film?"

Right, here we go again.

"Depends. Who's asking?" you laugh to yourself, still watching that blinking plane.

"Um, me." Now that felt more like a question.

"And, who are you?" You whip around and see a tall boy in a black hoodie. Who is this? He's cute... is your immediate response to the stranger.

You playfully prod at him with your empty solo cup, "Youuu are not on my course."

He laughs gently, casting his eyes to the floor. Despite his shy cadence, there's an effortlessness and confidence about him that is rare to find among these overgrown teenagers. "No, I'm not. I do History."

You squint and he senses your confusion about his presence at a Film student function.

"I came with him", he gestures over to the couch. The scantily clad, mop-headed, binge-drinking, serial flirt, Matty Healy, lounges across your girl friends' legs. You scowl. You and Matty have argued in and out of every seminar you've ever shared. It surprised you that someone like the boy in front of you was here with him.

"He actually told me to ask that question"

"Hm?"

"Your favourite film? He said it's a good conversation starter but I'm beginning to think," he makes a note of your comically disappointed expression, "that he is very, very wrong"

He smiles at you. You can't help but smile back at him. The image of him preparing to talk you flashes in your mind. You smile harder.

"Roman Holiday", he leans over to hear you better over the drowning sound of pop, exposing his neck and the chain dangling around it. "My favourite film is Roman Holiday"

"Never heard of it--"

"YOU'VE NEVER HEARD OF ROMAN HOLIDAY?!?!" He certainly didn't need to lean in to hear that. He laughs at the inner film nerd in you coming out.

In that moment, he could see it. You and his best friend having passive-aggressive discussions during seminars. It's stupid to admit the twinge of jealousy he felt at the idea. I mean, you had only just met. Maybe it's the alcohol or Teenage Dream on the speaker, maybe he wants to see that enthusiasm and hear you talk about films forever and ever.

"Maybe we could watch it sometime."

It doesn't help that you blush easily. You can see yourself now, a vision in bright red.

"Does that line work for every girl?"

"I don't know, I haven't used it before," he smiles and rakes a hand through his hair. Fuck.

Wait, let's not get ahead of ourselves. "Who are you again?" you ask before you can glow any brighter.

"I'm Ross."

You reply with your name and extend your free hand to shake his.

The speakers go quiet over this exchange. A drunken voice exclaims "RIGHT, LET'S GO!" followed by peals of laughter and excitement.

You look at each other, hand in hand, knowing that you just started something good. Something good that you don't want to infect with even louder music, sweaty bodies and strobe lights - not now at least. If only Pres could last forever. You let go of his hand.

People flood out of the flat, but a girl friend of yours whose flat this is hangs back when she sees the pair of you not moving.

"Hey, could we stay here actually?" you tell her.

Having hosted so many film parties and Pres, she knows you're usually the first out of the door. She knows that you never do this or feel this, especially not for boys you've only met. But there's something about him and this squeezing in your heart. You don't want him to leave you.

She smiles, turning the speakers back on, the volume set to low. It's Boom Clap by Charli XCX. You wouldn't know this 'til much later, but she thinks you two make a good couple. "You don't need a key to leave and the door locks by itself, so feel free to stay."

Before she disappears out the door, Ross exclaims "Take care of Matty!!"

"No promises!!" she shouts back.

---

Saturday bleeds into Sunday. You're sitting on the floor with a boy you just met. He does History, you do Film. The Bluetooth speaker died in the middle of Colors by Halsey, but you both were too engrossed in conversation to realise it.

The October wind picked up, tossing the plastic cups across the room, but he was too busy looking at you, how the air danced and played with your hair. Neither of you could figure out how to close the window, you were both guests here after all. When he noticed you shivering, his black hoodie immediately came off. He blushed as you put it on, how the sleeves extended past your hands. It was hard for you not to hug yourself and take in his smell of petrichor and aftershave in its entirety. It was hard for him not to hug you.

By this point, you could name all his favourite teachers from secondary school and why the 1900s was his favourite century. He could list your top 10 films in order and the details about your hometown that you love. He recounts what it was like growing up in Wilmslow with Matty. You never knew Wilmslow ever existed, you never knew anyone's words could soften you to Matty.

As he speaks, you notice the distant whir of passing cars, the wind, the hum of the light bulb, and how this is all so tragically and desperately transient.

"What's wrong?" he asks as if he has known you a long time. He has made a note of how expressive you are, how whatever you're thinking or feeling is easy to detect just by looking at your face. You wouldn't know it, but he decides right then and there that he wants to recognise every micro-expression your face could make.

"I like talking to you," you admit, almost sadly.

"I like talking to you, too."

You glance out the window. "But you do know what they say about the people you meet in the first semester," they don't stay.

"Yeah, yeah, I do know, but" he delicately places his hand on your knee, "you're someone people want to keep."

Silence. There's an unspoken force about the two of you. It encourages you to submit to the endearing teenage stupidity and rash decision-making.

"You're someone I want to keep," he says finally. Whilst your eyes, tipsy and excited, have been jumping from surface to surface, his has been fixed on you the entire night.

A thump from the front door interrupts the moment followed by crashing and inelegant, drunken moaning.

"Ohmygod you guys are STILL HERE?!?!" screams that coursemate of yours, popping her head through the door. "MATTY, THEY'RE STILL HERE!"

A tiny "ᶠᵁᶜᴷ" can be heard from another room. You and Ross laugh to yourselves, not surprised by the scene unraveling before you two.

"You know I love you guys but do you mind fucking off?"

Ross is already stood up and helps you onto your feet. You could get used to this. You plant a chaste kiss on her sweaty forehead followed by "You know I love you. Use protection."

"Have fun, mate!" Ross yells down the corridor as you make your way to the door.

"ᶠᵁᶜᴷ ʸᴼᵁ"

---

You strike yourself as more tipsy than you realise as you wiggle the door handle and cry, "OHMYGOD, IT DOES LOCK ON ITS OWN!!"

And he's looking at you, smiling that same warm smile, as you get excited over a door. You're still wearing his hoodie.

You notice him staring, "what?"

"Nothing"

"You look like you want to say something?" He takes in a breath and shrugs. "If you wanna say something, just say it," you laugh.

To that, he lifts up your chin with his finger and kisses you.

As soon as he backs away, you toss your arms around his neck and inelegantly smash your face onto his. You can feel him smiling as you kiss. His arms pull you closer at the waist, hands underneath his hoodie.

"I've been waiting to do that all night," he whispers as you pull away. The streetlights and skyscrapers blink through the windows of the dimly lit corridor. Only this time in the face of the city, you don't feel alone anymore.

"Are you busy today?" he asks, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. You're still slung around his neck. It's all stupidly endearingly familiar, but also so new. You kiss through the conversation.

"No, no, not busy... do need to do my laundry though."

"Good, so do I." You silently agree to do it together.

You take his hand in yours and walk down the stairs.

"I'm someone you wanna keep, huh?"

"You're someone I wanna keep."

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heavenfalls · 6 months

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starting a petition for ross’ mic to be up like this all the time. his voice is gorgeous 😭😭 (x)

#the 1975 #ross macdonald #ross the 1975 #the 1975 self titled #the 1975 blog

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tillthelandslide · 1 year

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Masterlist []

name: Lou ✌️

24 🌸

pronouns: she/her

time zone: GMT 🇬🇧

Add yourself to my taglist here

Key: Smut 💦 Instagram AU 📸 One shot ❤️ Series📓

*read the lastest: Prove It Princess 💦 || Can't Get Enough📓

The 1975:

Same for you 📓 (in progress)

One Shots

Stupidly Happy Smiles ❤️

Mr Macdonald 📸

Touring with the 1975📸

Filth💦

Stubborn, Whipped, Insatiable💦

Sweet Cheeks ❤️

Throughout the Years 📸

Request: domestic fluff with Ross x Ross smut 💦🍭

Daddy Ross 📸

You've Got Me Forever ❤️

My Person 📸

She's Got A Boyfriend Anyway 💦

Poor Baby ❤️

Made For Me 💦

Go Get Your Man

Travelling 📸

You're Not Alone ❤️

We've Got Forever After All 📸

For Better or For Worse ❤️

Happy Valentine's Day ❤️

Series

Pressure 📓(on hold)

Instagram AU

Blurbs / Short Fics

Under the Weather ❤️

One Shots

Yours ❤️

Obsessed 📸

Blurbs / Short Fics

Lovey Dovey G ❤️

Series

Love It If We Made It (coming soon)

One Shots

Unbelievably so ❤️

Babe You Look So Cool📸

She's Got A Boyfriend Anyway 💦

My Wife ❤️

Best Friend Day ❤️

Post-Stoned with Matty Interview ❤️

Perfect Girl (chain matty)💦 || Prove It Princess (part 2)

Wintering ❤️

Definitely Don't Hate It

I love you, don't you mind?

Blurbs / short one shots

Dinner with the Healy's (post Finsbury Park)

Series

Insufferable Arsehole 📓 (completed)

Then Because She Goes (coming soon)

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alovesreading · 4 months

Text

'tis the damn season | Part 2

Word count: 12.7k

Warnings: the tiniest bit of angst.

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

Masterlist

Part 1

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everyone but Ross.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At least not until next Christmas.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

Around May of 2010 you graduated university.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing mattered anymore.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

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

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

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

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

Not that he cared.

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, “Amazing. You?”

“Pretty good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What you never had been.

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

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A sigh leaves you.

This is it then.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So like a brainless fool, you did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not that it needed explaining, really.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wants to bang his head against a wall.

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

So he does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your mum’s footsteps echo through the hall as she dashes back downstairs with a new film pack in her camera, ready to snap away.

In the pictures you can clearly see your swollen wet lips, but no one comments on it when your mum lets you two see the results of the quick photoshoot she’s just thrown for the two of you. Heat rushes up to your face, just like Ross'. You almost wanna coo and pinch his cheeks at the sight of him flustered like that.

It’s fair to say you’re both incredibly smiley when you go back to the dining room to share hot chocolate and the cookies you had made earlier. You half regret not making the same ones you had made the year you had met Ross, but it’s all fine when Ross says, “Delicious as always, sweetheart.”

You wanna pounce on his lips when he finally goes back to calling you that again.

There’s no way you can stop your lips from falling into a pout when it’s time for Ross and his parents to go. You almost want to convince them to stay a bit longer but you already had and they’d stayed an additional hour than they’d planned.

Ross’ mum and dad hug you tightly, wishing you a merry Christmas and saying that they hope you like your present, as if you haven’t loved every single one they’ve ever given you throughout the years.

When it’s time for Ross to hug you, he makes it a show of almost crushing your bones as he does so. Swaying in your place, your parents laugh behind you as the two of you cling onto each other like you haven’t done in years.

Neither set of parents have it in them to tease or complain because they’ve missed witnessing it.

But perhaps, the biggest shock of all is that when Ross pulls back after wishing you a merry Christmas, he presses his lips on yours on a sweet chaste kiss that makes the four adults around you loudly gasp and, therefore, make you and Ross become flustered like a pair of kids caught holding hands in the playground.

And just like a kid, Ross peels himself away from you and quickly escapes back home with his parents following behind him, leaving you foolishly stunned and wide eyed.

When the front door finally closes, it is your mum saying, “Finally!” that makes you snap out of your trance.

The loopy smile stays on your face as you open presents, though.

Blindly, you pick up your phone when it rings on your bedside table the next morning. You don’t even read who it is as you answer it so your shock makes you open your eyes wide when you hear Ross’ voice on the other side of the line.

He says he’s been texting you to ask if you wanted to hang out, and truthfully you just wanna sleep in a little longer, but you also wanna have his presence.

Who says you couldn’t have both?

You let him know he can come over, whispering as you tell him to ring you when he’s outside because your house is quiet as your parents still sleep.

He surprises you when he says he’s already at your door.

With your eyes still heavy with sleep, you make it downstairs, still in your pyjamas, and when you open the door, you grab his hand to drag him upstairs and into your room.

There’s not even a chance for him to greet you with a hello when you get back in bed and lift the sheets on the empty side for him to get under them and join you.

Ross doesn’t take more than a few seconds to take off his shoes and shed himself off his coat, getting in your bed and wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you into him and let you cuddle yourself into him.

You basically sleep until your stomach growls as you become hungrier the more you’ve been ignoring it most of the morning, pushing aside your basic human needs to stay a little longer in Ross’ arms.

He brings you the cookies that were left from yesterday in a little plate and a glass of water, at your request, whilst you go to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

When you come back into your room, you shove one cookie into your mouth before starting your gift show and tell.

A warmth spreads through the both of you as you show him the most mundane and unimpressive gifts you’ve gotten, except for the pretty little necklace his parents got you of course, but it makes you laugh how since the last time you had done this, your presents went from an iPod mini, books and pretty dresses, to a pair of fuzzy socks and a set of floral pattern baking utensils.

You finish getting ready after you show him your presents, and he watches your every move attentively from your bed, which he has made very quickly before throwing himself over it again.

He grabs a pillow and places it over his eyes when you go to lift up your pyjama shirt, it’s not like you haven’t changed in front of the other before, but it’s been so long that he feels the need to offer you privacy.

He hears you snort at him as you sort through your wardrobe for a shirt, a jumper and a pair of jeans. And he smiles into the pillow when you mumble, “Silly,” as you finish buttoning your jeans.

“You can look now,” you say as you finish putting your shirt on.

And Ross catches a glimpse of the skin of your stomach when he lowers the pillow back onto the mattress.

He shifts from his side to his front to hide the way you affect him. He would’ve put the pillow on his lap but it would’ve been too obvious. He hopes he has a second to adjust himself without you looking when you’re about to leave.

You offer him the biggest of smiles before turning to look at yourself in the mirror and fixing your hair, putting a bit of makeup on your face to look decent for when you go to exchange gifts with your friends at Matty’s house.

Ross is entirely entranced watching you through the mirror, he can’t stop thinking about how he’s always thought you were pretty. But somehow, with time, you’ve only grown more and more beautiful.

As if that was even possible.

You’re just unreal, truly. He can’t understand the mystery of you. And he doesn’t really need to, all he wishes to do is to witness it.

When you go downstairs, Ross follows behind a bit slower since he stayed hidden behind your door adjusting himself for a few seconds while you went ahead, you shout to your parents that you’ll be going to Ross’ and then Matty’s so you’d probably come back home after tea.

They say, “Alright, have fun!” back and you’re off.

But not before Ross catches your wrist before you can walk away from the bottom of the stairs.

You stumble into his chest and he swiftly cups your jaw, tilting your head in the perfect angle for him to lean in and catch your lips in a soft kiss that steals your breath away. It’s slow and delicate, like he’s taking in the way your lips slot perfectly together, trying to memorise how your mouths move with each other.

You’re speechless when he pulls back, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth before he points upwards, “Mistletoe.”

A scoff slips past your lips. “Didn’t know you were such a rule follower,” you tease. He’s so smooth it makes you want to scream.

He shrugs, “Depends on the rule.”

Despite the fact that you assure Ross’ mum that you’ve had breakfast—Ross snitches on you saying it was just cookies and a glass of water—, you’re fed a healthy amount of leftovers for breakfast the second you walk into the MacDonald’s home.

Only thirty minutes later, you’re upstairs in Ross’ room with a mug of hot chocolate as he shows off the gifts he got this year. Which, again, makes you laugh because it’s yet again more proof about the fact that you’re too old now and all you get is adult gifts.

You can’t help but snort when he shows off the beanie and scarf your parents got him, but ultimately admit he looks adorable all bundled up in the matching cotton set.

He wears the beanie proudly when you both walk up to Matty’s, while you have the scarf wrapped around your neck after you quickly snatched it from his room before leaving his house.

When you get to the Healy residence, it’s enough of a shock to see the two of you arriving at the same time. George is the one to ask with a frown if you had walked up there together and you nod with smiles on your faces.

Matty elbows Adam when he notices your accessories match.

The curly headed boy really tries his best to hide his curiosity but he can only last fifteen minutes into the catch up you’ve all fallen into before he asks, “Where’s your boyfriend?”

It’s a shock when you nonchalantly answer, “Oh, we broke up.”

And even more of a shock when you beam after the words leave your mouth.

Ross smiles just as big, proud of you for being so strong about that situation. No one really knows about it and it shows. Yes, you had been confiding in Matty about your struggles feeling extremely lonely in uni but you had never told him the reality about your boyfriend, knowing damn well how it looked that you got into that relationship because you were so desperate to feel something.

You had so much to tell everyone, but this wasn’t the time. Not yet.

The change in the dynamic between you and Ross is obvious, especially after consecutive years of clear, growing distance in between the two of you. But no one comments on it because they don’t want to disturb the return of a friendship that had been, from the very beginning, the core of the unity of your friend group. Even if the girls aren’t here celebrating with all of you anymore, Ross and you had been the ones to bring all of you together once upon a time, and it’s certainly refreshing for the boys to see that restored.

So when the New Year’s Eve party comes around, the group is a little more rowdy and you and Ross don’t stray far from each other’s side.

It might be because it feels like you’re all back in 2006 when you were still in high school and nothing had changed just yet, that Matty and George cause more and more ruckus. It’s certainly entertaining to watch but when George is stopped by a drunk Hann from doing a frontflip from the top of the stairs, and possibly breaking his bones, Ross pulls you outside for some peace and quiet as it’s really close to midnight.

The cold air makes you shiver and sobers you up a little, but god bless Ross MacDonald for offering you a cigarette then.

You place it between your lips and let him light it up, he struggles a bit with the strong wind but you help him by cupping your hands around the end of the stick.

Taking a long drag, you let the smoke in your lungs start to relax you and bring you the warmth you so desperately want right now.

The mess going on inside is still loud despite Ross closing the door, and suddenly, the memory of that 2006 New Year’s Eve night comes flashing back to the forefront of your mind.

“This is giving me some serious déjà vu,” you say as you hold in the smoke for a few seconds before letting it out upwards.

He knows exactly what you mean, he’s been thinking about it from the second you stepped foot in the house, but he still plays dumb, “Hmmm, really?”

You nod, taking a drag before saying, “Yeah. If I remember correctly, it was 2006 and we had come out to escape a very drunk Matty and George thrashing everything inside so we could have a calm countdown. We were sharing a fag, and the countdown started.”

As if rehearsed, you hear drunk voices loudly starting to countdown from ten inside the house.

Ten, nine, eight…

“And?” Ross pushes you to continue.

Biting your bottom lip, you try your best to hold back from smirking as you casually add, “And I said happy new year.”

He hums, “Not forgetting something?”

“Am I?” you play dumb, holding the cigarette between your fingers as you look at him.

Seven, six, five, four…

He turns to look at you, taking one little step towards you to invade your space, and nods, “I reckon, yeah.”

Your brows furrow and you cock your head to the side as you feign confusion.

“Mind refreshing my memory?”

You don’t have to tell him twice.

He pounces on your lips harshly, and it’s this time that desperation shines through the movement of his mouth on yours. His tongue doesn’t waste a second to slip past your parted lips and he groans when he tastes the tart tobacco on your tongue along with the vodka cranberry you’ve been having all night.

His trimmed beard itches your skin in a way that drives you mad and you can only think about how you would really like to get used to it. Your mind betrays you thinking about how it could feel brushing between your thighs, your arms swing around his neck and your fingers run up his scalp, making him moan into your mouth.

Three, two, one…

Your lungs burn with the lack of oxygen and you pull back, panting, but a smirk doesn’t fail to break on your face and you breathlessly quip, “Ah yes, I remember now.”

Your cheekiness has him groaning again before he dips back for another kiss, his arm wrapped so tightly around your waist that you’re pressed impossibly close to his front, you cling onto him just as passionately and let everything you’re feeling in the moment show through the way your mouth moves along with his.

Revelling in the taste of him, the feel of him.

The two of you tune out the loud drunk voices wishing each other a happy new year on the other side of the door.

“Happy New Year, sweetheart,” he says against your mouth when he pulls back slightly.

Your breaths mix, becoming one as you try to get back oxygen into your lungs. Your nails dig into his scalp, wishing for there to be a way for you to melt into him. You can think of a few ways you can even come close to becoming one with him.

Your pupils are blown when you open your eyes and look into his, “Happy New Year, Ross.”

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

The pride that swells your chest every time Ross sends you a picture of a place he and the boys are touring is impossible to explain with words.

You burst into tears every time you talk about your talented boys travelling around the world after the hit their debut album had been. The scolding you got for missing a day of work to go up to Manchester and celebrate their first number one album was definitely worth it, for celebrating their talent and the success they deserved was one of the best fucking days of your life.

After a few months of touring, the boys have finally come back home for the holidays. The 17th of December they played their last gig of the tour in some festival in Virginia, and on the 18th they had come back to their shared flat in Manchester.

So you were up in Manchester too.

“Love, you need to dial it down on the speed,” you tell Ross when you come back into the kitchen after taking your stuff to Ross’ room.

The second you got to the flat, you had been greeted with loads of hugs and kisses from the boys and far too many stories for you to hear in one afternoon. Your bag had been left forgotten by the door where you dropped it when George came running to crush you in a hug that you welcomed gracefully, and then the rest of them followed.

Ross had been quite distracting with the amount of kisses he stole before the guys gagged enough times to have him leave you alone and then they took you to the settee where they sat you down and told you all about the tour.

But then Adam’s girlfriend came over and they went off on a date, George went out to meet his girlfriend at a restaurant, and Matty was off to his parent’s house to visit them and little Louis who had been missing him loads.

That was when Ross finally had you all to himself, and despite the fact that he was itching to get you in his room, he hadn’t been able to say no to baking cookies with you first.

The same cookies you had made him and his family the day he gave you the potatoes back on Christmas day 2002. It just felt right to choose that recipe in particular.

Ross frowns as he looks at the mixer quickly, maybe too quickly, mixing the sugar and butter together, “Why? It’ll be over faster and we can go to my room.”

The smirk on his face makes you chuckle, and you shake your head as you walk up to him. “Oh, you’re awfully confident,” you tut before wrapping your arms around his neck.

He wraps his arms around your waist and dips his head to kiss you but you pull back slightly, he raises his brows in question, “Thought you had missed me.”

“I did,” you assure, your eyes falling to his lips, but you pull back again when he dips down for a kiss once more. You love to tease him you’ve found ever since you got together at the beginning of the year, and so you do, “But I think you missed me more, didn’t you?”

With that voice of yours, it’s impossible for him to deny it. He fights a groan but lets his hands fall slowly down your waist and lower back to your ass and there, he squeezes harshly as he says, “I certainly did.”

You swallow a moan but the hunger in your eyes is clear and a mirror of his, but before you can get too carried away, you let your hands run down his chest and you pat it twice before demanding, “Okay, stop it. Let’s finish this first.”

“Alright, sweetheart,” he agrees easily.

Just because it’s you. It’s hard for him to be stubborn when it’s you.

When the cookies are in the oven, he tries to distract you with those kisses of his that leave you breathless and needy, but you really have to remind yourself of the danger it would entail if you let yourself fall into your boyfriend’s charms and leave the cookies to burn.

It’s only when all three batches of them are out and on the cooling rack, which Ross definitely bought just for the times you came around and wanted to bake, that you and Ross run off to his room and make up for the time you’ve spent apart.

That’s how most of the days that you’re back together go: either tangled in between the sheets, indulging in each other’s touch and letting the devotion you feel for the other translate in your bodies becoming one, or cuddling as you watch film after film—or rewatching the three seasons of Game of Thrones, which he’s certainly obsessed with, and you definitely tease him about how much you fancy Jon Snow as if he doesn’t resemble him.

You go Christmas shopping together but split for an hour in the middle of your afternoon to buy each other your gifts, coming back giggling as you hide your gifts from the other but definitely try to guess what you’ve got as you go back to the flat.

The best time is when you’re all getting ready to go back to Wilmslow, like a big happy family you take up every seat in Matty’s car and it’s a chaotic thirty minute drive that makes your heart swell inside your chest.

The afternoon of the 24th, it is starting to snow outside and you two are cosied up on the settee with a shitty American Christmas film playing in the background as you go through your pictures throughout the years.

“Ross, look at you!” you coo loudly when you find a polaroid of him with a birthday hat on which is dated June 6th 2003. “A baby!”

He grimaces at the look of his long hair, styled to the side of his forehead and brushed down and straight like a cow had licked it, “Ugh, that’s a mess.”

You scoff and chat back, “No, you were so cute,” before going back to pouting over the picture of him.

He hadn’t started growing proper facial hair yet and he looked like a baby after he had shaved the patchy beard he always got back then. Nostalgia hits you as you remember how cute you thought he was back then and you still do. Somehow, your crush on your boyfriend only gets stronger with time.

“‘Were’?” he questions you with a raise of his brows.

You want to laugh at him for sticking to that bit of your words but swallow it to tease, “Yeah, ‘were’.”

A screech leaves you when his fingers come to mercilessly tickle your sides and you thrash around the settee as he comes to hover over you and continue his attack.

It’s a mix of shrieks and cackles and begs for him to stop that fill the room and overpower the sound of Will Ferrell’s voice, the pictures have all spilled on the floor as you kicked your legs and waved your arms around helplessly.

“Baby, stop!” you beg again and this time he listens, leaning in to press a bunch of kisses all over your face before pulling back and helping you sit back up on the settee.

The two of you start gathering the pictures from the floor then and sorting them through the years. But it is then that you notice the gap in between years, when you had been so foolish to ruin things all because of your bitterness.

The sorrowful words leave you as you flip through the handful of pictures from 2006 and the clear difference with only the few from 2007 and then the lack of them from 2008 to 2011. “So many years with no pictures…”

Ross blames it on him though, “I was an idiot.”

But you won’t let him take the blame all on his own, “Oh babe, I was too.”

He smiles sadly at the pictures but when he looks at you, his smile grows wider, “We’ll make up for it.”

His hand brushes your hair behind your ears and you nod, agreeing, “Definitely,” before kissing the palm of his hand softly.

Your boyfriend’s face melts in adoration and his voice drops an octave as he speaks, “I’m never letting you go, you know that right?”

The stupidest smile tugs at the corners of your mouth then before you reply, “I wouldn’t dream of ever leaving.”

Carefully setting the pictures aside, he shuffles closer to you and kisses you soft and sweet. His lips move on your with the same intent that his fingers dig into your cheeks.

Your hands come over his, wanting to keep his touch there, for him to never stop holding you like this and he confirms that he’ll never even think of doing it when he pulls back and mumbles against your lips, “I love you so much, sweetheart.”

The fluttering in your belly and the electricity that buzzes through you never dwindles, no matter how many times you hear him say that.

Nothing’s been easier and felt more natural in your life than saying it back, “Love you so much more, babe.”

You love telling him how much you love him and you love even more seeing his cheeks tint pink when he hears you say it. He always struggles maintaining eye contact after you let it slip past your lips like he can’t help but become putty in your hands when you utter those three words to him.

And you can’t help but giggle at the effect you have on him.

He basically throws himself forward and hides his face in your neck, but he forgets his size and strength for he makes you tumble backwards and fall on the settee with him over you, stealing your breath away.

He doesn’t move when you groan about him crushing you, he only nuzzles in your neck more and you just let it happen. Having him on top of you is your favourite feeling in the world after all, so you just let him melt over you and you even bring your hands up to his head, scratching his head and massaging his scalp. He moans and groans, getting you all flustered in the process.

You can hear his breathing evening out and his heartbeat becoming more regular, so you know he’s about to fall asleep and you smile at the thought of falling asleep like this right now, but the front door opens and your parents walk back into the house with a handful of bags each.

“Did you buy everything mum?” you ask like you have every year since the potato fiasco in 2002.

“Yes,” she calls back with an annoyed sigh like every year.

But you keep taunting her, “Didn’t forget a thing?”

She indulges you as she sing-songs, “Not one.”

You hum, continuing to play with Ross’ hair, “How about the potatoes?”

Ross smirks at your taunting and shakes his head. But then your mum tiredly answers from the kitchen, “They’re here, who do you think I–...”

The trailing off has you and Ross holding your breaths, and then you hear your mum’s loud cursing, “Oh bollocks!”

And the two of you can’t stop the cackles that leave you.

Trying to speak in between laughter is hard and your mum can barely make out your words when you ask, “Did you forget the potatoes?”

“Yeah…”

Tears spill from your eyes as you continue to laugh, “You’ve got something against them I swear, woman.”

“Could you go get some, please?” your mum asks, seeing that there’s still some time left before the shops close down.

You sigh tiredly but actually give in, “Sure.”

Ross leans in and kisses your lips softly and, unfortunately, very briefly.

“Don’t worry. I got it,” he whispers against your mouth, a hint of cockiness in his tone that makes you smirk and play along to what he’s trying to do.

“Will you take some Christmas cookies in exchange for them?” your fingers continue playing with his hair, but you pout to try and play onto the pity you want him to take on you.

He hums like he’s thinking about it but he settles for something else, “Actually, I’ll take a kiss.”

“Just one?” you question with your brows raised.

He gasps like it’s a miracle you’re offering more than one, “Oh well, if you’re feeling generous.”

Your fingers trail down the sides of his face until you can rub circles on his cheeks with your thumbs, “Christmas is all about giving, isn’t it?”

The words echo inside his mind, and he smirks harder knowing what he’s meant to say, “I guess it is.”

A breathy chuckle leaves you, and he steals it by smashing your lips together. Every time he kisses you, you lose track of time and everything around you loses its meaning. You’re completely blinded by him, overcome by his existence, full of everything he has to give you.

Unfortunately, you can’t continue losing yourself in him for your mum shouts from the kitchen, “Oi! Go get the potatoes, you two!”

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

A/N: This was actually so much fun to plot but a bit tricky to write, so I truly hope you enjoyed the final product!! Kinda wishing I wrote more holiday themed fics now, but I promise I'll try to bring more of them soon, as many as my heart can take lol. I'll take this opportunity to thank you for reading and sending in your reactions, for accompanying me through this crazy year. Love yous so much and I wish you all the happiest new year!!! MWAHHH xxxx

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abiiors · 1 year

Text

Marital Bliss

combining a whole bunch of requests in this. enjoy :)

minors dni!!! smut, fluff, female reader, general geographical ineptitude, etc

wc: 4.4k

The feeling of a ring around your finger is nothing new to you.

But Ross, lying half-naked beside you in bed, stares at his hand like it’s a thing of wonder. It’s a beautiful Tuscan morning, the sunlight streams in through the open windows, a faint smell of apricots and peaches floats in with the gentle breeze. And your husband’s arms are warm around you.

You trace a finger along his hand, right where the ring now sits and look at where its twin rests on your finger. Husband. Finally, your husband.

‘Good morning, wife,’ he mumbles into your shoulder, smiling, grinning ear to ear. This is how he has woken you up every single day for the last week. One whole week of pure bliss being married to your favourite person in the world.

‘Good morning, husband,’ you smile back. It’s cheesy, it’s sickeningly sweet but neither of you seems to care. Especially not when he looks at you like you hung the moon and kisses your knuckles right above the ring.

The day in front of you is exciting. You have been dying to just explore the Italian countryside with him, walking down cobblestone streets, holding hands as you point at random things you find exciting. His thoughts have been drifting, however.

Ross has not been able to focus ever since he came out the shower and saw you dressed and ready for the day. It’s a dress he bought for you on a whim, white with a plunging neckline. There’s a lace bow that sits right between your breasts and it makes him think of all the ways he could unwrap the dress off you, unravel it so he could finally claim you as his gift. Every time you bend or stretch, he sees a flash of your soft, creamy thighs and there’s only so much he can do to stop himself from dragging you back to bed and burying his head between them.

‘Ready, darling?’ he asks, voice husky and slightly out of breath, once he’s done putting on his clothes.

You hum softly from your place in front of the mirror. Almost ready, just putting some lip gloss on before you spritz on your favourite perfume. It’s jasmine with a hint of spice, perfect for when spring starts to blend into summer. The second he breathes it in, the scent goes straight into his bloodstream, sending all his neurons into a frenzy as his blood rushes south.

Maybe the thought of seducing you back to bed is not so farfetched after all…

‘I’m so excited for the day,’ you squeal, shutting the tube of lip gloss and turning to look at him. His heart skips a beat in his chest unable to contain the rush of happiness he feels at your excitement. And he gladly takes your hand in his when you extend it.

—

The streets of Florence are bustling with tourists.

You and Ross could easily get lost in the flow, laughing and joking with each other, lost in your own little bubble. The day has quickly turned warm and you can’t keep your eyes off him as beads of sweat run down his throat and disappear into the v of his shirt. Couldn’t keep your eyes off him when let go of your hand to roll his sleeves up to his forearms.

‘What’s on your mind?’ he asks as soon as he notices you staring.

You bite your lip, unable to keep the rosy flush off your face at being caught so red-handed. You are allowed to have filthy thoughts about your husband, that’s what the rational part of your brain says. But sometimes when you look at him, you can’t help but feel like a shy twenty-something-year-old that met him for the first time; how intimidating and hot he was back then, how utterly sexy he still is.

Ross notices that too and leans down to press a soft kiss on your cheek. ‘Go on, love. What’s on your mind?’

His voice so close to your ear sends a shiver of pleasure through your whole body. Heat courses everywhere and the dress suddenly feels tight and uncomfortable. ‘It’s really hot,’ you almost gasp out.

Everything feels heightened; the way his hand rests on the small of your back, fingers rubbing circles on your waist. Same fingers that ran along your most sensitive parts the night before, the same fingers that pumped in and out of you making you moan and cry out loud with each thrust.

Ross can read you like an open book, can practically see every thought, every image that flashes in your head. He’s not a stranger to this look on your face; pupils dilated, lips parted as you stare at him with such open want. So insatiable when it comes to him, always hungry for more. And he’s right there with you, has been practically all day.

‘Let’s cool you down then,’ he says and pulls your flush against his chest. He’s very much enjoying the way your eyes go wide. You are right in the middle of a busy street after all but he couldn’t care less. Especially not when he can feel your hardened nipples through the dress.

He leans down, placing one big hand around your waist to keep you in place as he tilts your face up with the other. ‘There’s an ice cream place right around the corner.’

He relishes the way your breath hitches and gets caught in your throat when he leans down, captures your bottom lip between his teeth and subtly thrusts his hips into yours. Just making you aware of what's on the table. You say the word and he’d willingly throw you over his shoulder and run back to your cottage.

A strangled moan escapes your throat, something that sounds like a yes and it almost makes him come undone right there. But he doesn’t want to be the selfish one. He knows how excited you are to explore Florence with him and he feels a bit like an animal for being unable to control himself around you.

It’s a herculean task to untangle himself from you, especially when you look at him through your eyelashes. Especially when he simultaneously wants to drag you into a secluded alley and hitch your thigh around his middle but also take you back and have his time with you.

‘Ice cream sounds nice,’ you reply after what feels like an eternity take a hold of his hand again.

The bell jingles when you step through, relishing in the coolness of the place. Excited Italian chatter floats all around you, sometimes interspersed with a familiar word or two but what really matters is the sight of your husband’s back and the shirt that sticks to it. You can clearly see the outline of the muscles as he takes his wallet out and pays for two gelatos

One pistachio. One strawberry.

‘For you,’ he hands you one of the cones and slings an arm around your shoulder to steer you towards an empty table.

Your fingers come up to intertwine with each other as soon as he sits down next to you. ‘This is so good,’ you sigh in delight, enjoying the way the ice cream cools you down at least a little.

He agrees, taking a small lick of his own cone. Sweetness lingers on your tongue as you watch him close his eyes at the taste. The gelato really is amazing but nothing is better than watching him as he goes in for another taste. This time, he makes sure to look directly at you before resting his tongue flat against the scoop and licking it broadly.

Aptly, the ice cream on your cone melts a little and trickles down onto your hand. Your insides feel quite the same as different thoughts start making their way to the forefront of your mind. How would his cold tongue feel against you? Licking and sucking just as he is right now with the ice cream. And every time he catches you looking, he smirks knowingly and continues putting on his little show.

He’s been enjoying your reactions to him. He feels himself harden a bit more every time your gaze dips to his mouth. Every time you subconsciously rub your thighs together, he wishes he could slide his hand in between and run his fingers through your wetness. It’s only when he sees how a bit of the melting ice cream rests on the corner of your lips, that his mind goes into a frenzy.

‘Look at me,’ he speaks in a low, commanding tone. He leans down again, tongue sliding over the corner of your lips where he licks away the ice cream. It’s sweet mixed with the taste of your lipgloss.

You whimper in response and for a crazy moment, he wonders if he can bend you down here on the table and fuck you till you can’t walk straight, till his cum is running down your thighs for everyone to see, till he ruins your pretty little cunt so he can then spend hours on his knees making you feel better.

‘We can go around and do everything on your itinerary for the day,’ he whispers and looks at you to gauge your reaction.

‘Or?’

‘Or…’ he breathes, mouth moving to your neck, ‘we could go back.’

‘Ross…’ you almost moan his name right in the middle of the shop. There’s no debate here. ‘Let’s go.’

—

Your breath leaves you in a whoosh as soon as your back hits the wall. A few tendrils of his hair escape his bun, landing wildly in front of his eyes. He’s almost scared of how desperately he wants you, of all the depraved things he wants to do to you. Whoever thought that after years of being together, things would settle into a domestic lull between you was dead wrong.

‘Fuck, baby, you’re so perfect,’ he speaks in a hushed voice as he continues feverishly kissing down your neck; right down to the middle of your breasts where the bow has been driving him crazy all day.

You giggle slightly, he imagines his beard must be ticklish but the sound is like music to his ears. ‘Show me,’ you speak, hands fisting his shirt tightly as you throw your head back, ‘show me how much you want me.’

And there’s nothing more he wants to do than show you just how much he wants to be inside you, hearing his name spilling out of your pretty little mouth. He’s so painfully hard now, grinding his hips into yours for any kind of friction. ‘You drive me so crazy, god, I’m never going to get enough of you, am I?’

His hands come to rest under your thighs as his mouth moves feverishly against yours, swallowing every whimper, every moan you make. You wrap your legs around his middle, begging to be carried to the bed so he can throw you on it and have his way. His mind flips through all the things he wants to do, how he wants to fuck you till you scream and cry and then gently make love to you till you’re gasping out his name and clenching around his cock.

Your head bounces slightly as soon as he throws you on the bed and climbs on top of you. His gorgeous wife, already writhing under him and begging for his touch.

‘Spread your legs for me, love,’ he moves lower, hands massaging and grabbing at your breasts, ‘nice and wide.’

The thin straps of your dress have already slid down your shoulders, exposing your hard nipples. His fingers are instantly on them, squeezing, alternating between hard flicks and soft fondling while his mouth works on your hips. Your dress is not entirely off, no. It just lies bunched up somewhere around your middle as he hooks a finger in the lace of your panties.

‘Please, please Ross…’ you moan, almost screaming his name, ‘want your tongue, want your mouth on me.’

He’s been dreaming about this all day. So now he can’t control the urge to palm himself as you beg and moan under him. For a moment he simply kneels between your legs and commits the sight in front of him to memory. You with your legs spread wide open, white lace panties already soaked through. Your dress bunched around your waist, back almost arching off the bed as you eagerly wait for his touch, as you touch your nipples for any stimulation. Your hair wild and fanned on the pillow, cheeks pink and mouth red from all the kissing.

And then he grips your thighs and yanks you towards him in one swift motion.

He wants to take his own sweet time to peel the lace off you with his teeth but he feels like a man starved. His patience has been wearing thin all day and now if he doesn’t taste you on his tongue, he might just die.

‘Keep your eyes open, baby,’ he lowers his mouth on you, slides your underwear off you with no difficulty, ‘want you to watch what you do to me. Want you to see me on my knees for you.’

It’s only when he makes sure that you are leaning on your elbows, watching him just as he asked you to, does he flatten his tongue against your core and lick a broad strip. What he’s rewarded with is a strangled cry, a mewl, his name choked out in a broken gasp. His head spins at the taste of you; no matter how many times he’s had it, he simply cannot get enough.

‘You look so hot between my legs,’ you gasp as he licks again, ‘so perfect.’

The words fuel him to almost an insane level. He’s so attuned to all your little whimpers and gasps, all the way you move and tremble under him but this, you being so bold, this is a rarity. And the way you taste on his tongue is heavenly. Each time he sucks on your swollen clit, your hands tug on his hair, a sting of pain runs through him; pain that seamlessly blends into pleasure when you squeeze your thighs around his head.

‘Faster, please—FUCK!’

And so he increases his pace, licking and grazing his teeth occasionally. Every time he feels you come closer to the edge, he moves to your inner thighs, leaving little hickeys on the sensitive, soft skin. His hands wrapped around your thighs completely, clutching so tightly that he knows there would be finger-shaped marks tomorrow and all he can hear are your cries that reverberate through him and go straight to his cock.

‘Right there, YES,’ you scream again, voice hoarse and breathy and he knows you’re close. The pressure on his head increases as you clench your thighs tighter.

Your back arches off the bed almost completely, no longer able to keep your eyes open as you get lost in the feeling of his mouth, of his touch. Without warning, he adds a finger, plunges it right in and the coil tightening within you almost snaps, almost. But not yet. Not until he tells you to. So you let him pump his finger inside you twice, thrice while his tongue works on your clit mercilessly.

‘Come on, baby,’ he coaxes, ‘come on let me taste you. Be a good girl for me.’

Be a good girl for him. There’s no time for you to say his name as your legs spasm. His hands hold you in place, his mouth constantly on you as you feel yourself fall off the edge and down, down, down. Waves after waves of pleasure crashing on you and his mouth still going as he licks every last drop.

There’s no way he’s done with you just yet, not when he moves to sit back up and looks at you with blown-out eyes. His hands move, slipping out of you quickly so he can bring them to your mouth.

‘Taste yourself,’ he commands, ‘look how good you taste.’

It’s an effort to keep your eyes open and look at him, especially when you still feel dizzy from that orgasm but you open your mouth obediently and let him put his fingers in. You swirl your tongue around them, sucking your slick off them with a depraved fervour. He looks like he’s about to lose his mind as he groans each time he feels your tongue.

‘Get them nice and wet for me, good girl,’ he speaks as his other hand takes a hold of your waist. You know what's about to happen. You want him so badly, bad enough to choke on his fingers as you try to speak. ‘You can take more, can’t you? Can take more of me?’ he asks, coaxes almost. It’s so clear that he wants more, wants to keep going so how could you say no?

Ross regards you carefully, analysing each reaction to make sure you’re okay to keep going, that you want more. But then you thrust your hips up in the air, begging silently and all his resolve crumbles down to nothing. His shirt comes off; all he wants now is to feel your legs against his back and he gets between your thighs again.

His fingers rub against your fold. He groans as he feels the wetness there, ready for him once again. And he slips in effortlessly, moaning at how tight you feel just around his finger, dreaming about you clenching around his dick.

Between roaming around the city and this, the day has almost come to an end on you. The light outside has turned orange, casting your skin in pretty colours and bringing out the highlights of your hair. The lust clouding his gaze clears for just a moment as he watches the sun turn your eyes into pools of gold.

‘My beautiful darling,’ he whispers to himself, ‘my beautiful girl.’

His fingers pumps in and out, slowly building up momentum as he watches the way your face transforms. ‘Can i add another finger, love? One more, just wanna make you feel good.’

You nod immediately, fingers fisting the sheets and toes curling in pleasure as he aligns his middle and ring fingers against your entrance. This, he finds especially hot; he loves how his glinting, platinum band instantly gets covered in your wetness. Wet sounds erupt as he moves in and out, lowers his mouth to your abdomen. There’s very little skin left that’s not some shade of red, very little skin that’s still unclaimed. Still, he finds more areas to mark up so next time when he fucks you, they will be right there staring at him.

He groans as the thoughts come; he’s not even done with you now and he’s already thinking of the next time. His mouth moves lower, dying for a taste once again as your walls clench tightly around his fingers. You’re close, he knows you’re close.

‘I want to cum,’ you beg, almost cry out when he hooks his fingers inside you, ‘please, can i cum?’

‘How can i deny you anything, baby?’ he asks hopelessly. And in that moment he knows it’s true. You could ask him to lay down his life in front of you and he would do it. ‘Taking me so well, so perfect.’

‘Yes, yes…’ you moan once again and he feels the second orgasm hit; feels the way your body goes limp for a moment.

You’re way past caring about all the mortifying noises you’ve been making for the past…whatever amount of time has passed. You’re not even sure at this point. You’re not sure if it’s still the same day or if you’ve fucked throughout the night and into the next day. Through your haze you watch him move once again.

His mouth hovers just above yours, his hands on both sides of your head. Even after two rounds, when his hips press into yours, when he grinds his erection into your sensitive flesh, you can’t help the heat that pools between your legs. The material of his jeans is chaffing, and you desperately need them off him, need him to be inside you.

His fingers, his mouth, they are all things you adore but it’s him inside you, locked together; that’s the feeling that nothing else compares to.

‘You still want me, huh?’ he teases lightly but it’s got an edge to it now. Of course it does, he’s waited long enough. He’s put your pleasure before his like he always does.

So you grab his face in your hands, looking him in the eyes. His big, beautiful eyes that fill with love every time he looks at you. ‘I will always want you,’ you tell him, ‘in every lifetime.’

Your fingers intertwine as his lips move to capture yours. You can taste yourself on his tongue, salty and somehow mixed with the taste of the strawberry gelato. You quickly begin tugging at his jeans, get the zipper off as fast as you can and run your hands along his erection as soon as his jeans, his boxers are off.

Ross groans, a true guttural sound as he drowns in the feeling of your hands on him. ‘Need to be in you now, love…’ he whispers, almost slurs his words, ‘can I? Please?’

In response, you wrap your hands around his base and give him a few pumps. Beads of precum bubble up from his tip; he’s ready, he’s more than ready and so are you. When he moans and struggles to hold himself upright, you line him up with your entrance and rock your hips against him, eliciting the filthiest sounds out of him.

The bed is soft beneath you and his body hard on top of you. Outside, the breeze picks up, the smell of peaches and apricots permeating the room once again, mixing with his woodsy cologne, his sweat. And no matter how many times you’ve done this, your entire body zings with electricity when he slides in.

Slow and torturous and deliciously thick, stretching you out and filling you in just how you’ve been dreaming about all day. His chest glistens with sweat, the chain around his neck, warm and heavy, rests in the hollow of your throat.

You feel yourself clench around him as he thrusts in further and further. You don’t know how you still have it in you to be as turned on as you are right now. He has already made you cum twice but the prospect of cumming a third time with him inside you is too enticing.

‘So good,’ he moans in your ear, ‘you feel so fucking amazing, darling.’

The room is full of wet, squelching sounds; filthy, disgusting sounds that turn you on further, make the room spin around you. Flesh slaps against flesh as his hips slam into yours. ‘Want you to be on top, baby,’ he speaks suddenly, begging almost, ‘want you to fuck me.’ And you’re nodding before he’s even done speaking.

You have little time to marvel at how his muscles shift on top of you before he flips you over and on top of him. Still locked together, still inside you. The top of your dress falls away further, as the skirt of it pools around you on his pelvis. His hands are instantly there, balling up the dress and holding it around your waist so he can watch you making love to him. So he can watch the ecstasy on your face as he hits deeper than before.

His hands on your hips tighten as he thrusts upward, matching your pace, pumping into you faster and faster, bouncing you up and down on his cock. ‘Just like that baby,’ he encourages, ‘go faster.’

You dig your nails into your thighs to keep them from trembling, not that it helps much. As you inch towards another orgasm, you can feel your control on your body slipping. Your limbs seem to have a mind of their own as you keep moving, sliding up and down, screaming as his tip hits the sweet spot every time.

Praises spill from his mouth as his movements lose their rhythm. You can already feel your hold on yourself slipping, sliding away from reality as you feel yourself shudder and scream his name. His movements continue through your orgasm, thrusting in and out, brushing against your sensitive clit.

You whine out his name. Too much, it’s almost too much until you feel his hips stutter as he shoots warm ropes of his own release inside you. Thick spurts coating your walls as you feel his legs spasm but his hold on your hips never loosens, never shifts. Not even as you slump forward, tired and spent and lay on his chest.

Both of you pant heavily, bodies still intertwined as you fight to keep your eyes open.

‘Aw, darling, did I wear you out?’ he coos in your hair, kissing the top of your head. There’s an undercurrent of smugness there but you’re too far gone to point it out now. Almost being lulled to sleep by his racing heartbeat.

You mumble something unintelligent in response and he laughs deeply, the sounds reverberating through you, making you gasp as he slips out of you.

‘Let me clean you up, okay? You don’t have to move at all. Don’t have to do anything.’

‘Mm-hmm,’ you smile and nod into his chest.

There’s some movement as he settles on the bed and walks away into the bathroom. A few minutes later, you feel a cool, damp cloth against the inside of your thighs and you hum softly at how amazing it feels. To just be taken care of while you lay there, satiated and fucked out.

‘I love you,’ you speak softly into the pillow and hope he heard you.

Moments later, you feel him lay down next to you and pull you onto his chest. His heartbeat is now a slow, constant rhythm; something that you could recognise by sound alone, something that is more familiar to you than your own.

‘You are the best thing to happen to me,’ he whispers, voice full of love and awe, ‘I can’t even begin to tell you how lucky I am.’

But he doesn’t have to. You’re already sound asleep in his arms with a content smile on your face.

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