mybrokenveins3000 - Tumblr blog

mybrokenveins3000 · 8 months

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CAT DAD ROSS CAT DAD ROSS CAT DAD ROSS.

sobbing crying and throwing up rn.

you know her, you love her, its me.

three words for this request : cat dad ross.

do with that what you will.

cat dad ross. cat dad ross. cat dad ross. as a cat mother myself, this is. everything. to me.

I'm going to make this irl Ross just for the purpose of switching it up lol.

I imagine it's your birthday, and Ross is at home and it's been the loveliest morning. You've been out for a nice breakfast somewhere, opened all of you cards and presents and everything, and you're just chilling out in the afternoon before dinner that evening. Ross said he had to just nip to the shops for something, and you didn't really bat an eyelid. He's been gone a while, but you assume maybe he's popped into George's on the way back or something.

You hear the front door opened, followed by a "y/n/n, just stay in there two seconds!". The sound of the car door closing, some rustling in the hallway.

"Close your eyes." He says as he comes into the living room.

"What have you done?"

"Close your eyes!" He laughs, walking back out into the hallway. You do as he says, squeezing them shut, hearing his footsteps on the carpet. "Okay, open!"

It is like your dreams have come true when you see him stood there, the tiniest kitten in his huge hands, holding him to his chest. You gasp, covering your mouth, and you can't quite believe that he's done this for you. I reckon you've been talking about getting a kitten for ages, you constantly bringing it up and him being like 'we should like about it', when in reality, this was his plan all along.

"Oh my god, Ross." You breathe as he crouches down in front of you, handing you the kitten in your lap. Tears prick at your eyes, both because of how cute the cat is, and also Ross lol. He's looking at you so fondly, watching as you stroke the little kitten and talk to him, and he's just so in love, I think.

"Do you love him?" he asks you, still knelt in front of you, hands on your knees.

"I love him, and I love you. Thank you so much." You lean forward and press a kiss to his lips, lingering there for a few seconds. "Does he have a name?"

"He's yours, you name him." He smiles, thumbs moving back and forth.

He knows how much this means to you. I think maybe you once had a conversation about birthdays, how no one ever really made a fuss when you were a kid, and how you'd always ask for a kitten for Christmas and was consistently met with a firm no. You look at him with teary eyes and it's like you both know how much this means.

That evening, I think you sack off dinner and spend the night with the little baby! Ross is sat cross-legged on the floor, playing with toys and fussing him, and he just looks so cosy and soft. The kitten looks tiny in comparison to him, which has thoughts of babies popping into your head that catch you off guard.

It's the best birthday you've ever had, I think.

#mbv 3000 recs #cat dad. ROSS.

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mybrokenveins3000 · 8 months

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I HAVE PASSED AWAY. I FUCKIN GL OVE THIS SO MUCH SO SO SO MUCH. FRAZZLED ENGLISH WOMAN READER I LOVE YOU I LOVE THIS. THE BRIDGET JONES AGENDA FOREVER.

New Year's Day

hello everyone! I hope you all love this one as much as I do - it doesn't really align with the song and it's vibe, but i love it nonetheless and was smiling and kicking my feet the whole time i was writing this. i also just wanted to say thank you so, so much for all of the love and support you've all given me on not only these fics, but the teacher ross blurbs I've been writing in response to your asks! i truly am so grateful and you're all so lovely. thank you thank you thank you. enjoy new year's day!

word count: 2,225

November. Arguably the worst month of the year to end a twelve-month-long relationship. Well, twelve months, three weeks and five days. 31st December, also arguably the worst day of the year to be feeling particularly sad about said relationship.

Your boots trudge in the snow as you hold the shopping bag tightly. Your scarf is slipping from your neck, bag probably splitting from the ungodly amount of cheap wine it's holding, and there's a sheen of sweat on your forehead, despite it being -3 degrees in London. No wonder he left me, you think as you recall the evening.

13th November:

"So that's it?" He stands in the doorway, hands on his hips as he huffs. He's stood tall, the plush sweater hugging his body contradictory to the harsh frown on his face.

"Ross, it was you that said we needed some time apart!"

"Because you’re the one being distant, y/n!"

"Distant? I'm the one being distant? Ross, you've been away on a tour for over six months. I know you can't help it, but I really don't think that our ‘distance’ is because of me." You bite down on your bottom lip, eyebrows tilting downwards as you fight back tears. He runs a hand through his hair.

He's right. The distance in your relationship has definitely been as issue as of late, both physically and metaphorically. You'd been staying late at the office, he'd been across the other side of the world, and it's not exactly a recipe for success. You'd fall asleep right as he called, he'd be performing when you woke up.

He swallows heavily, dark eyes looking at you pleadingly, almost. An ache presents itself in your chest, breath caught in your throat as you anxiously play with the hem of your sweater.

"Is this really it, then?" You clench your jaw, tears threatening to spill.

"I..." His voice trails off, looking away and scratching his neck. You can see his glassy eyes, the way he pulls his lips into his mouth - you can read him like a book, a really heartbreaking, sad book. "Do you want this to be it?"

"Do you?"

He doesn't answer you, but instead picks his coat up from your sofa.

This can't be real. This is Ross. You were supposed to marry Ross, you were supposed to grow old together and do all of the things you used to dream about.

You don't chase after him as he walks down the hallway, you don't try and make him stay or beg him to take you back. The sound of the door closing behind him lingers in the empty flat, almost echoing off of the walls that seem to be so impossibly close. You feel the shell of your body take a seat on the sofa, a sob filling the void.

The weeks since then had been a cycle, and a toxic one at that: too much alcohol, too many nights crying to your friends, and definitely one too many times you nearly called him. You'd unfollowed him on everything, the sight of his smile and the dimples you'd so regularly peppered kisses to sending a wave of sickness, a wave of envy, through your body. You'd taken down the polaroids, hidden his hoodie somewhere you'd never think to look, plunged your head straight first into work and work only.

Only now, it's New Years Eve, and you're forced to face the reality of your situation.

A microwave meal for two is heated up, eaten by one, cross-legged on the sofa in a pair of pyjamas that could probably win a competition for 'World's Ugliest Nightwear' (a Christmas gift from an aunt). The flat is warm, lit by candles and fairy lights on every surface, a knitted blanket pooling around you. Glasses on, hair up, and who knew half a bottle of Echo Falls could fit into one glass?! The discoveries of a single woman in her 30s were truly groundbreaking.

If your loneliness wasn't apparent enough by the constant reminders of how fun and exciting your friends' lives were via social media, the BBC One New Year's Eve countdown did the job.

"So grab that special someone and get ready for the countdown! 30 minutes to go!" Some tacky presenter wearing a far-too-sparkly jacket grins down a microphone. You scoff, rolling your eyes at the cliche and taking a glug of wine.

Your eyes trail to the window, the gentle fall of snow making you reminiscent. You wonder what you were doing this time last year - at Ross' parents, playing a board game with his family, sat in between his legs whilst he played with your hair. The thought makes you inhale sharply, eyes stinging as you avert your gaze back to the TV. You wonder where he is right now, probably an A-List party with the rest of the band, surrounded by stick insect models wearing clothes worth more than your entire wardrobe. You bet they've never eaten M&S ready-meal lasagne. You wonder whether he'd squeeze their hand in the back of a taxi, whether he'd carry them up the stairs of their flat when their heels break. You dab your cheeks with the back of your hand, catching the tears trailing down your face and sniffling. Necking back the rest of your wine, you get up from the sofa to grab the bottle from the kitchen, slippers shuffling on the wood flooring. You catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window, and it reminds you of how you and Ross would dance together in this very spot, how only months ago he'd kissed you against this fridge, had spun you around, giggles filling the room like the most beautiful confetti you'd ever seen. You'd recognise that laugh anywhere.

"10 minutes to go!"

The first bars of All By Myself bleed from the speaker, a singer you don't recognise butchering it already.

"Oh, give over!" You complain at the TV. Of all songs they could’ve picked for New Years.

When you were little, you always thought you'd end up like Rachel from Friends, or maybe even Angelina Jolie. Bridget Jones was never on the cards, singing the singleton's anthem into a wine glass on New Year's Eve.

If it wasn't for the banging at the door, you're convinced you would have hit the high note. You frown to yourself as you pad down the hallway, passing the clock - it's 11:53pm on New Years, who could possibly be knocking on your door? You wonder whether you've accidentally called for a Chinese takeaway in your state of sadness, or a neighbour telling you to be quiet.

You gasp when you swing the door open.

His eyes are tired, and definitely drunk, creasing in the corners as he pulls his lips inwards, brow lowered slightly. His coat is sprinkled with glitter and fallen snow, like some kind of fairy dust against the black fabric, his hair ruffled like he's ran a hand through it a million times over. He's slightly out of breath, chest heaving up and down beneath his white button-up, tongue quickly swiping between his lips.

"Ross." You breathe out, eyes quickly moving over his face. His eyes are watery, nose slightly red, and you notice how he swallows heavily when you speak. "What're you doing here? I thought you'd be at a party or something, I-"

"I was," He inhales, a slightly bashful smile on hips lips as he furrows his brow, "but I didn't want to be there."

"You didn't want to be there?" You ask, suddenly feeling naive and hyper-aware of your appearance. You purse your lips, searching his face for an answer or context.

"No," he shakes his head firmly. "I wanted to be here, and I've messed up, and..." His voice trails off as he rubs his face, huffing. "I'm sorry, you probably have people over-"

"I don't. I don't have people over." You interrupt perhaps a bit too eagerly, watching as his eyebrows raise and his lips part slightly. "Is everything alright? If you need a taxi home, I can call you one, I know the numbers for some, I'll just write them down now..." You turn back into the hallway, rummaging around in a drawer of a cabinet for a taxi firm leaflet and a pen.

He watches you for a few seconds, looking away for a moment as he contemplates the mistake he's made. None of the models or singers or actresses at any party in the world could compare to you, his y/n. The corners of his mouth threaten to curve upwards as he notices the penguin print on your pyjamas, the way you nervously push your glasses up your nose, spotting the empty bottle of wine on your coffee table in the living room further down.

"y/n, no," he starts, making you glance at him with a concerned expression on your face. "I don't want a taxi."

"You don't?" You shake your head at him with a frown.

"I want you."

"Me?"

"Mhm." A soft, airy, perhaps a little drunken laugh escapes his lips at your questions, the way your voice goes up a pitch. You nod at him, contemplating what he's saying, wondering if you've actually just fallen into a lasagne-induced coma on the sofa and this is a dream, a manifestation of your pining. "Take me back, y/n."

You inhale sharply, watching as he swallows deeply and searches for your response, almost looking through your eyes, deep into your brain.

"The biggest mistake I made was ending things. I'm an idiot, y/n/n! I'm an idiot, and I do things and don't think them through," He rubs the back of his head, shaking his head with teary eyes, "and now I'm here on your doorstep asking you to take me back, because I'm not man enough to do it without a drink, and I don't think I could've gone on any longer without coming here, and-"

Your warm lips on his are what ends his rambling. He raises his eyebrows, the kiss taking him aback for a second, before melting into it completely. You hold onto the lapels of his jacket, his hands grasping onto the fabric of your pyjama top, running upwards gently as you stumble backwards a little.

"You're not an idiot." You pull away and say breathlessly, looking up at him shaking your head. "You do think things through." He smiles down at you softly as you speak, brushing stray curls from your face and resting a hand on each cheek. "Will you take me back?"

The kiss he presses to your lips answers your question, deep and passionate and so very needed. You push the door closed with your free hand, the other around his neck, eyes closed and inhaling his aftershave deeply. The faintest smell of cigarette smoke and champagne is mixed in, but it's like walking back into a golden memory, or your smelling your favourite perfume. He walks you both backwards into the living room, and in perfect timing, too.

"...2, 1, Happy New Year!"

Fireworks sound on the television, but you're not 100% sure whether they were just in your head. You pull away from him and hold his face in your hands, and he lets the weight of his head lean into your palm.

"Happy New Year, Ross." You smile through watery eyes.

"Happy New Year, y/n."

He presses a kiss to your lips again before taking your hands in his.

"Jesus Christ, your hands are freezing!" You hold them both between yours.

"I walked here, and I didn't have gloves, so..."

"You walked here?" You gasp, holding his hands to your mouth and pressing a kiss to them. "It's snowing!"

"I know, but I thought the walk from Bond Street wasn't as far-"

"Bond Street? That’s, like, 45 minutes away! You walked for 45 minutes?!” You laugh in shock, shaking your head at him, "You've lost your mind."

"I'd have walked the Earth if I thought we were going to be okay." He shakes his head softly, looking down at you. "I've thought about you every day."

"If you'd have called, I'd have picked up."

"You blocked me." He states matter-of-factly before trying to suppress a grin, "And unfollowed me, so-"

"It was a moment of madness, I just..." You scrunch your nose us and squeeze your eyes closed as you cringe, smiling a little, "I'm sorry." You rest your head in his chest, feeling him kiss the top of your head.

"I'm sorry, too. Really sorry." He huffs, "I'll never leave you again, I promise."

"Me neither," You tilt your head up at him, nodding as if to affirm your words, "Even when it's hard, and we make mistakes like this."

His arms around your waist the next morning are warm. You lift your head to look around the room, those god awful pyjamas strewn across the hall near the bathroom door, his shirt on the floor, your bra haphazardly hooked over the end of the bed - the two of you from the night before. You lay back down, turning your head to look at him - his lips are parted, slow, steady breaths leaving them. The bedroom is stone cold, the white sheets around both like a cocoon, but you've never felt warmer. You think about last night, a smile on your lips as you lay with your eyes shut.

#mbv 3000 recs #I LOVE THIS.

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mybrokenveins3000 · 8 months

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it is so over for me

this is the sweetest thing ever

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mybrokenveins3000 · 8 months

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u bitches aren't ready for

We Like Weddings: He Likes Weddings, Winter Edition

and neither am i. because i havent drafted anything yet. BUT IT'LL BE GOOD.

#more weirdo ross fics #i wanted the title to sound like a goofy sequel #ross macdonald #1975 band #the 1975 #fanfic #ross the 1975 #ross macdonald fanfic #ross macdonald fanfiction #mbv3000 rambles

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mybrokenveins3000 · 8 months

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FUCK YEHHH, i eat this kinda thing up, thanks for the tag bestie 🫶

here are lyrics ive been feeling rn!!

can you tell im a poetry writer/enjoyer. anyways, i dont actually have any other mutuals who haven't already done this so, IF YOU'RE SEEING THIS!! DO IT!! DO IT NOW, TAG YOURE IT.

im feeling odd and introspective so i was looking at lyrics and wanted to try a tag game but honestly idk how those start.

anyway: these are 9 lyrics that currently (or in general) i feel idk in my soul brain heart wherever)

And if @frootielooties @footprint-in-the-snow @thefrontofmymind @withoutaplease @eyeofthemoose @coulsons-fullmetal-cellist @procrastinatinglikeapro well if you want to(no pressure) totally feel free to share 9 lyrics that idk are etched into your brain or smth deep like that

#tag game #music recs #do it i dare you

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mybrokenveins3000 · 8 months

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2 reblogs and I'm doing He Likes Weddings: Winter edition.

He Likes Weddings - reader x Ross Macdonald oneshot

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

word count: 1.8k

♫ Kiss Me - Sixpence None The Richer

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

She hung up. Great.

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

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

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

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

"Sorry?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You should stay," he exclaims after you.

"I don't know any of these people"

"You know me."

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

"And you are?"

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

"No way?!"

"Yes way!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

And, god, are you having fun.

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

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

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

"Consider yourself lucky," he smirks.

And you did. Consider yourself lucky, that is.

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

"Beautiful"

---

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

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

"Hi!"

"Hi."

---

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

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

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

"You know what?"

"What?"

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

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

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

"Oh, really?"

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

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

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

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

"Actually, I do."

---

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

---

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

#more ross wedding fics #HE DOES IN FACT LOVE WEDDINGS #HELLO??????#begging you guys to read this #i love it

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mybrokenveins3000 · 8 months

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He Likes Weddings - reader x Ross Macdonald oneshot

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

word count: 1.8k

♫ Kiss Me - Sixpence None The Richer

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

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

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

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

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

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

She hung up. Great.

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

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

"Sorry?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You should stay," he exclaims after you.

"I don't know any of these people"

"You know me."

Oh.

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

"And you are?"

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

"No way?!"

"Yes way!"

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

And, god, are you having fun.

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

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

"Consider yourself lucky," he smirks.

And you did. Consider yourself lucky, that is.

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

"Beautiful"

---

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

"Hi!"

"Hi."

---

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

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

"You know what?"

"What?"

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

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

"Oh, really?"

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

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

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

"Actually, I do."

---

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

---

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

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mybrokenveins3000 · 8 months

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Ross reaction when Matty fucked up Me & You Together Song lyrics at Lollapalooza Stockholm 2023

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mybrokenveins3000 · 8 months

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Fluffy Moments with College!Ross Macdonald

My writer brain is not in the mood to go all in on something longer (even though everything I write is less than 2k words but ANYWAYS), here are a few college!au soft Ross moments (?) ideas (?) prompts (?), enjoy + lmk if u want a longer fic about any of these <3

Late nights at the library // studying and writing essays next to each other. His hand slipping into yours every now and then. Him watching you all tired eyed and concentrated, thinking you're the prettiest thing he's ever laid eyes on.

Watching him practice with the band // it's your turn to watch HIM all concentrated and in the zone, how the music moves him and makes him feel. Helping out with any input on songs. Him teaching you how to play bass when the others go for a smoke break.

He would definitely make you playlists. You would definitely listen to them whilst you make your way around campus. And you'd definitely listen to one of them when you :

Bump into each other on campus // in the early days, walking to your lecture and physically bumping into him. Both of blushing and apologising in embarrassment, hearts about to burst. Wishing you could bail and hang out with each other instead. Looking back at each other as you walk away.

He would definitely send you random messages on your student email, making you smile in the middle of lectures and seminars

OHMYGOD, as a History student, he would definitely send you passages from articles he's reading about love stories of the past and be like "us"

Doing your shopping together!! // so domestic, so therapeutic. Maybe it's late at night, you're not afraid to laugh loud in the aisles. You're sitting in the shopping trolley and he buries you in groceries :,) He pays for everything as well because he's an out-fashioned gentleman like that.

He would definitely go to concerts or club nights with you — you on his shoulders so you can see better, him dancing and singing with you, mirroring your enthusiasm and excitement.

Going home with each other during the holidays!! // meeting each others families, him charming your parents, them loving him!! Walks around your hometowns, telling each other stories "that bench is where I had my first kiss" "this was were me and the boys had our first gig", learning more about each other, reminiscing on past versions of each other.

(I'm going to make myself cry but) GIVING EACH OTHER BOOK RECOMMENDATIONS 💔💔 Imagine his favourite books, all annotated and battered from years of love, on your bedside table. Yours on his :,)

Watching your favourite films together on a laptop, snuggled up together in bed.

First time sleeping round his // maybe this is after Drunk Call. This time you're both tipsy in his room, it's too late and you're too fucked up to go home, so you sleep in his bed with him. Other than kissing, I don't think anything happens. You talk in the dark, laughing loud until you fall asleep in his arms.

You'd definitely have this kinda moment at parties and socials : (quote from film, Frances Ha) "It’s that thing when you’re with someone, and you love them and they know it, and they love you and you know it… but it’s a party… and you’re both talking to other people, and you’re laughing and shining… and you look across the room and catch each other’s eyes… but – but not because you’re possessive, or it’s precisely sexual… but because… that is your person in this life. And it’s funny and sad, but only because this life will end, and it’s this secret world that exists right there in public, unnoticed, that no one else knows about."

Eventually, graduation // him (as well as the rest of the band) cheering the loudest for you. You two being so proud of each other, remembering all the stressed out late nights studying. Mingling with each others' loved ones, their shared pride for the both of you.

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mybrokenveins3000 · 8 months

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Hi I'm the anon that requested the drunk call fic and omg 😭😭 that was everything I imagined and more

You're such a talented writer!!! And I'm so looking forward to seeing what else you write

❤️❤️

OHMYGOD AAAAAAAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE!!!!!! im glad you liked it, like i said i hadnt proofread it so there may be imperfections here and there, BUT ANYWAYS IM SO GLAD, THANK YOU AGAIN!! my requests are always open for more ideas — ngl ive been in a real creative slump so the more requests the better — or even just to chat :,) thank you again, love u foreverrr 🫶🫶🫶

#anon ask #anon answered #send me asks

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mybrokenveins3000 · 8 months

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Hey I just read all of your college Ross pieces and I love them!!

What about one night if reader goes out and ends up too drunk and calls Ross so he comes to pick her up and takes her home. Maybe she's trying to talk about her feelings for him but he doesn't want her saying anything she'll be embarrassed by. Or she asks him to stay the night so he sleeps on her floor

A/N: Oh. My. God.

FIRST AND FOREMOST, thank you for the love and for readingg <3 It really means the world to me. SECOND OF ALL... ANON... YOUR BRAIN IS SO LARGE. I am going to PASS OUT. Thank you for this request, my heart might just burst. I might have gone over board, this is the longest thing I've written thus far. Anyways, here goes nothing... enjoy ;)

Drunk Call - College!Ross Macdonald

word count: 1.5k

♫ Heavenly - Pale Waves

This party is excessive and headache-inducing - the music is bad, the people even worse. You don't even know why you're here. When your flatmates asked "why that party?", you simply replied, "just for something to do".

You're slumped down by the foot of the couch, tangled between legs, empty bottles, empty cups. No matter how much you hammer at the side of your phone, all that blinks back is a fat 0%.

The liquor is not sitting right in your stomach, you're not in the mood, and each thrum of bass reminds you of him.

You haven't seen Ross for what feels like forever. He had gone back to his hometown for the week whilst you stayed in the city. There was something noticeably different about the setting without him, the lights felt dimmer, the air felt colder.

You were conscious not to disrupt his week at home, spending so many nights staring at an untouched keyboard. Oh, the amount of text messages you thought up but never sent.

But you knew he would be back today, which was your main source of hope in this tragic, alcohol-punctuated moment.

Without a second thought, you pull at a semi-familiar friend's trouser leg and ask if you can borrow their phone. After a reluctant "yes", you're punching a familiar number onto the screen, then the bright and inviting call button.

The phone buzzes softly in your hand as you lift it to your ear.

Pick up pick up pick up pick up--

"Hello, this is Ross speaking."

You relax at the sound of his voice. You were beyond the border of missing him.

"Hello!!" you exclaim, loud enough to hear yourself over the music - which is to say deafening from his side of the line.

"Whoa," it's like you can hear him wincing, "is that who I think it is?"

"Mhmmm"

"Where are you? Are you okay?" You selfishly smile at the twinge of panic in his voice as he registers the state you're in.

"My phone... it died... This is the only number I know," you gulp, "off by heart."

He's speechless, already devising a plan to save you. If only you could see him now, a blushing mess, half worried, half desperately in love.

"Are you busy?" you add before he can react to the former statement.

"Uhh no, just finished practice. Where are you?"

"Oh, practice... GUYS, I'M ON THE PHONE WITH A ROCKSTAR!!" you announce with such pride to a room full of strangers and acquaintances, once again almost deafening him on the other side of the line. And yet he's hanging onto every word, even if it hurts him.

"Okay, I'm coming to get you," he laughs, "don't worry, I think I know where you are."

"My hero!" you tease, "but please come soon, the music is so bad and I miss you, Ross, I FUCKING MISS YOU--"

You accidentally hang up.

---

Not two minutes later, you see a familiar, flushed face enter the room. Did he run here?

The scene is hazy and fragmented, but you could recognise the space he takes up in any room, even in this state. Ross towers over the crowd, a vision in black denim, searching over moving heads and smoke. Then he locks eyes with you.

You wave at him, still sitting on the floor by the couch. He seems to sigh in relief, hand on his heart.

You spring up as he approaches, unaware of the bottles and cups you've knocked over. He takes you in - you, slightly unravelled but the same as ever. Still beautiful as ever.

"ROCKSTAR!" you cry as you flop into him, catching his eyes crinkling at the name. And you're back in his arms, so inviting, not so dissimilar to the comfort of home. "How did you know I was here?!" you beam at him.

"Matty mentioned it. He wasn't invited," he laughs.

"Lucky him."

You stand there in the middle of the room holding each other for a while, both revelling in how much you've missed each other. For a second, it's warm and quiet. If it took one long week and a bad party to experience this, you think, then it was all worth it.

Suddenly, the song changes to a particularly insufferable one. You both groan like you're one body, one mind.

"Let's go?" he says.

"Let's go."

---

You dance in and out of streetlights down the path to your accommodation, humming one of his band's songs, one from the night of the gig. Ross's walking right beside you, arms at the ready in case you fall or turn where you're not supposed to. Even as you stumble, he gazes at you with amazement at how beautiful you look without even trying.

"What was that thing?" you blurt out.

"What thing?" he hums in response, his alertness veiled by a sense of calm, eyes still glazed with wonder.

"You know, that thing you said when we first met? I'm someone you want to keep, was it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I never said that." he teases, his playful grin giving away his lies.

You throw your arms out and scream into the night, "I'M SOMEONE YOU WANT TO KEEEEEEP!!"

He laughs awkwardly, eyes widening at your sudden outburst. But he adores you. In this moment, that's his only truth.

"Ah, okay, let's take a break"

He settles you down onto a nearby bench. You take in a deep breath of fresh air which turns into a yawn.

Your head starts to droop, but he quickly rests it on his shoulder as he lowers down to sit next to you. Always ready to take care of you, to save you when you let him.

"So suave, so so nice, so nice" you mumble drowsily, half to him, half to yourself.

"What was that?"

"You're so nice... And so good-looking," you can't stop your mouth from moving, "I really like being around you and I missed you so much, but I don't know if you felt the same!! But you're so nice, sometimes I just want to--"

"Okay, okay, that's enough," he slithers his arm around your waist and hoists you back up onto your feet before you say something you'll regret.

But he's unable to bite back a smile. In another world, he would let you speak, but he knows you and knows better than to let you talk yourself into a hole you can't escape.

Not yet, he thinks, not like this.

"Hey! You could compliment me, you know," you nag as you start walking again.

There's a pause as he really considers his response.

"...you know you're gorgeous, right?" he finally sighs, breath visible in the crisp night air, "besides, everything I'd say, I'd want you to remember."

---

He gently lays you down in your bed, but you can't seem to let go of him.

"I don't want you to go", you whine, "won't you stay?"

"For how long?"

"Stay forever."

His eyes soften as he looks down at you, your arms still clasped around his neck. Only you have the power to render him speechless like this. It's so easy for you to get what you want.

You let go of him, aggressively patting the empty side of the bed.

"Call me old-fashioned, but I don't share beds with drunk girls," he says. He takes a stray pillow and blanket, and plonks them onto the floor beside you so he can monitor you as you sleep. By this point, you've already passed out.

---

Ross can't sleep. He doesn't mind the floor, but stirs at every sound and movement you make, constantly checking if you're okay.

Throughout the night, he finds himself looking at the details of your room, at books, concert tickets, and photos of friends and family - pieces of you that he wants to know more about.

He watches you, so peaceful, in awe how he has someone like you in his life.

My life would be so boring without you, he thinks.

---

You wake up just as he walks into the room with a cup of tea. He sets the cup down by the bedside table with a soft smile. The air of domesticity is something you could live in forever.

"Hi," you mumble through fluttering eyelids, filtering the Sunday morning sun.

"Hi. Are you doing okay?"

You nod as you sit up. He sits on the bed, brushing the stray hairs from your face, the warmth of his hand like a healing force. You can't tell he hadn't slept because of how happy he looks just to be there.

You reach over for the tea with the comfort of knowing he made it just how you like it.

"I didn't say anything weird, did I?" you croak, sipping the tea.

"No, not at all," he replies.

There's a moment of silence. The morning birds fly past the window, the steam of the mugs mists your eyes.

"I missed you too, you know," he finally says, "I missed you so much."

A/N: Didn't proofread this but HOPE YOU ENJOYED. I'll probably edit it a bit when I come back, but I wanted you to have this sooner rather than later, anon. THANKS FOR YOUR REQUEST AGAINNNN

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mybrokenveins3000 · 8 months

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in floods of tears rn actually. dont talk to me, i need 3-4 business days to get back to normal after this

its me. what do u think abt teacher ross + reader going to like a school talent show together after school, and theyre so proud of the kids, laughing and smiling together, he mentions how he used to perform with the band when he was their age (CUTE ASFQHGSEJA), u wish u could tell little him the great man he's turned out to be, you look at the crowd of proud parents, u both think abt the day u might cheer on your own kid/s. THOUGHTS.

hey bestie. I LOVE THIS IDEA!

yes, like you said, it's a school talent show! you love stuff like this, watching the kids enjoying themselves and doing something they're passionate about, so when Ross suggests going over dinner one evening, you jump at the idea.

you're sat next to each other, a few rows from the back so the parents could get the best view, the room dark as a few of the year 10 boys perform on stage. they've made a little band, and Ross had been giving them a hand with showing them how to play certain instruments and stuff. obviously, their music teacher had a lot to do with it, but Ross is just so approachable and patient with them that they found themselves asking him for help. you're beaming as you watch him watch them, the biggest smile on his face! when they've finished, everyone's applauding and cheering, Ross stood up at the back so they can see him. their faces are priceless, spotting him giving them a standing ovation. when he sits back down, he turns to you - 'god, it was like watching me and my mates when we were 15.'. you lean into him a bit, pressing a kiss to his cheek like 'yeah, and look at you now', him turning to you a bit emotional. like you said, you just wish you could have told little Ross how loved he is and how successful he is and how many people he's going to make happy. I think as the evening progresses, your arm is linked through his and your head is resting against his sleeve, watching all of the acts. there's some younger girls from the primary school that's joined to the secondary, maybe 7 or 8, and they're doing a dance act, and they're just so bloody cute. you find yourself wondering what your own kids will be like, picturing you and Ross sat exactly like this but watching your own girls. he's thinking the exact same thing, pressing a kiss to the top of your head - i think you've been together a while at this point, not engaged yet though. when you get home, you're taking off your coat and stuff, and he's just suddenly turns to you with 'do you ever wonder what our kids will be like?'. it takes you by surprise - 'our kids?', and he's like 'yeah, of course i mean our kids.'. it makes you all sappy, and you answer him with 'yes, all of the time.'. he brings it up again when you're laid in bed that night, and i think that's the first time you've ever really had the baby talk.

#mbv 3000 recs #i am in pain #i am not okay

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