#george daniel fic

[toomuchracket]

dancing like she way out (george daniel x reader smut)

shag the dj shag the dj shag the dj, or whatever the smiths said. basically - a night out takes a turn for the better when you hook up with the hot dj. won't lie, there's use of the d word in here. and choking, because we've all seen that man's hands. enjoy <3

all your friends are wasted, and you hate this club.

no, really - three of them are currently spewing their guts up in the toilets after going too hard on the tequila rose, while the rest flail wildly on the dancefloor in between queuing at the bar to buy yet another round of overpriced jagerbombs. meanwhile, you're doing your best to dodge the extremely persistent man you first swerved about an hour ago, some palm angels-clad twat with shit hair and an inability to take no for an answer, and also doing your best not to spill your vodka cranberry all over yourself in the process.

in short, you're having a shitter of a night.

at least the dj's fit, though. really fit. and, to be fair, he’s spinning some decent stuff. the one saving grace of the night, you'd say.

you watch him from the edge of the dancefloor, empty cup in hand. he's quite focused, more so than some of the wankers you've been dragged to see in this club in the past, only looking up to signal to the bar staff that he needs a refill and to check the vibe of the room. he has pretty eyes, you notice, sharp and dark and clear; eyes that could definitely get you to commit a multitude of sins, quite frankly.

and now? they're looking right at you.

looking isn't a strong enough word, actually. they drag slowly down your body - locking with your own, then travel to your pouty, brown-lined lips, and shamelessly over the curves of your body onto your legs - leaving a trail of thrill-induced goosebumps across your skin in their wake. suddenly, they flick back up to your face, and one closes in a wink. you smirk, and the dj does too.

interesting.

one of your more sober friends nudges you, handing you another vodka. you accept it without breaking eye contact with the dj, wrapping your lips around the straw and smiling with it between your teeth. he raises his eyebrows, still smirking, and you wink; your friend notices, and leans round so you can see her. “are you eye-fucking the dj?”

“maybe,” you reluctantly tear your eyes from him to look at her. “in my defence, he started eye-fucking me first.”

she laughs, tugging you onto the floor and motioning for you to dance. “i think we should keep him looking at you, then.”

“alright,” you down your drink and set down the cup. “let's dance.”

and so, you do, pulling out all the stops. your hair flows behind you as you swing your hips, body twisting and turning and stretching as you lose yourself under the lights and amidst the beat, and you laugh excitedly with your friend as she twirls you. the dancefloor is so empty that you can spin to your heart's content, but that doesn't bother you at all - it means there's less for the object of your efforts to be distracted by, more chance that his attention is on you.

it seems to be completely on you, actually; every time you catch a glimpse of him, his eyes are on you again, and your friend attests to that in your ear as she pulls you in for a hug. “he hasn't stopped looking at you, for even a second. that man wants you, babe.”

you angle your body towards the deck so you can see him. the club lighting is simultaneously sheering out his black shirt and throwing both his stubbled face and tattooed arms into focus - fuck, his arms. 

and he's still looking at you.

“i think you might be right,” you turn back to your friend so she can hear you, deliberately leaning forward and shaking your ass slightly in his direction. “and i want him too.”

she shoves you towards the deck. “go and get him, then.”

with a giggle, you set off, swinging your hips as you all but skip towards the extremely sexy man behind the music. unfortunately for you, some arsey man in too-tight chinos gets to the deck first; folding your arms, you stand behind him, miffed, and wait your turn to speak.

luckily, you only have to do that for a couple of seconds. the guy isn't particularly drunk, but he's annoying. “hey, bro,” he says to the dj, whose handsome face is set in an expression full of what can only be described as ennui. you assume he sees this kind of thing all the time. “can you play some, like, chainsmokers? that would be so sound of you.”

chainsmokers? christ.

clearly, your distaste is showing, because the dj's face slips into a tiny smirk as he looks at you out of the corner of his eye; it disappears, though, before he replies. “‘fraid not, mate…”

his fucking voice. dear god. who is this man, and where has he been all your life?

“...i don't take requests.”

you believe it. everything about the dj screams control, and with every passing second your want to submit to that control is growing. it's not want you have for him any more, but sheer fucking need.

the other guy shrugs and wanders off, and the attention is all on you again. leaning over the mixing board towards you, the dj smirks again. “you, however, can ask me for anything you like.”

fuck. keep it together, bitch.

“anything?” you smile, saccharine, carefully leaning on the side of the deck in such a way that it pushes your boobs up. “even cascada?”

he rolls his eyes. “and here i thought you had taste.”

“whatever made you think that?”

“you picked out that dress to wear tonight, yeah?”

christ. “yeah. you like it?”

he nods, taking a sip of his drink. “it's gorgeous on you. but i think most things would be.”

you blush, revelling in the compliment before shooting your shot. “present company included?”

“jesus,” he shakes his head, and for the briefest of moments you worry that you've lost him. but then he looks up, hunger in those fucking eyes of his, and smirks again. “is that what you want, angel? to go somewhere together and find out?”

the ease with which the pet name falls from his lips is staggering, so much so that you can merely nod. that's not good enough for him, though - “need you to talk to me, beautiful.”

“sorry, sorry,” you compose yourself (with great difficulty). “yes, that's what i want.”

“s'reciprocated,” he smiles, genuinely. “i’m george, by the way.”

you smile in response, and introduce yourself. george says your name, slowly, and you fear that your legs might give way. “pretty,” he replies. “i like how you feel on my tongue.”

the words practically shoot straight into the scrap of fabric you call panties, and your jaw drops. george giggles. “you're cute when you're flustered, angel.”

“shame. i don't tend to make a habit of that.”

“hmmm,”  he clicks his tongue. “i'll need to work on that, then.”

you smile, radiant. “promise?”

“promise,” george smiles. he checks his watch, and you try not to drool at the way his arms flex. or his hands - god, look at his hands! “s'almost closing time. meet me back here in half an hour?”

“looking forward to it,” you blow him a kiss, preening at the way he blushes. “see you in a bit, gorgeous.”

he winks again. you turn and walk back to your friends, who have gathered along the edge of the dancefloor to watch your exchange with the dj. they huddle around you like a rugby scrum when you near them, a cacophony of slurred voices asking what and where and who and when and how; you gesture for them to follow you to the smoking area, where - to much excitement - you relay the details to them in the breaks between nicotine hits, and hug them all goodnight before you have to go back inside, them to the cloakroom and you to the dj.

your wingwoman friend is the last one you bid farewell to - she links arms with you to walk back into the sweaty club, doing the pre-prepared spiel you give each other when you pull. “have fun, but don't be stupid. if it's his place you end up at, then send me your location. i'll phone you in the morning, alright?”

“yeah,” you kiss her cheek. “thanks for all your help.”

“no problem. stay safe, have the best time,” she grins. “and i want details at the pub quiz on tuesday.”

“noted,” you hug her again as you reach the place to part ways. “love you. goodnight.”

“get it, bitch!” she shouts after you; you turn to salute her and giggle, and then she's gone. with a deep breath and a shake of your hair, you dart past the people starting to head towards the cloakroom, butterflies starting to emerge again as you get closer to george.

he smiles when he sees you, eyes raking over your body once again. “you know,” he says, as you reach the deck. “you really are beautiful.”

“i'm already leaving with you, george, you can drop the flattery,” you roll your eyes, then beam at him. “thank you, though.”

“just stating facts,” george turns some sort of dial, and the music fades to silence. as the club staff usher everyone from the room, he sighs happily. “been waiting to do that since you came up to me earlier.”

“really?”

“yeah,” he unplugs his laptop from the deck, sliding it into a backpack. “you're very distracting, you know, looking so good and dancing like that.”

“well, i try,” you hold out a hand. “ready to go?”

george nods, stepping down beside you - you gawk at the the height of him, towering over you. “fuck me, you're tall.”

he laughs, taking your hand in his. again, the size difference is insane, and you find yourself momentarily nervous to get into bed with him; that soon passes in favour of excitement, though. “don't worry, i'll even out the height thing by getting on my knees soon enough.”

the speed with which you tug him toward the exit at that is almost comical. george only giggles and lets you drag him to the door - he stops when you’re out in the cold air, though. “hold on, angel, i need a cig.”

you nod, standing on the step beside the door while he moves down a few to light his cigarette in peace. his hands, so big, are surprisingly nimble as he pulls a fag from the packet and flicks the lighter on; again, it does something to your core, and you lean against the brick wall to keep yourself steady.

after a few (erotic) drags of the cig, george holds it out to you. wordlessly, you accept, holding eye contact as you take a drag and exhale it in his direction. george's eyes flick to your lips, then back to your own - suddenly, he's kissing you, a hand in your hair and one on the small of your back, your arms looped around his neck. it's not a polite kiss, by any means; george kisses like he’s trying to devour you in the best possible way, stealing all the air from your lungs and inhibitions from your brain, tongue and teeth working against your mouth to get you to give in to him.

like you need any convincing.

a trail of spit connects you as he breaks the sloppy kiss, forehead resting against yours as you both breathe deeply. “fuck, angel,” george sighs, kissing you quickly again. “your place or mine?”

“we can be at my flat in five minutes if we walk quickly.”

“shit. lead the way.”

***

your front door hasn't even fully closed behind you before george is pressing you up against it, grabbing handfuls of your ass and lifting you so he can kiss your lips and neck while he grinds into you. every time his hips meet yours, you feel your eyes roll back into your head and the need for him inside you growing. his teeth meet the skin of your collarbone, and you swear you see stars. “george.”

his head shoots up immediately. “no marks?”

“no, leave as many as you want. it's just,” you whimper as he sucks a bruise into your skin. “i really want you to take me to bed. please?”

he groans at that, peeling you off the wall as he turns. “where…?”

“second door on the left.”

no sooner than the words have left your lips, george is kicking your bedroom door open and all but throwing you onto your bed. hands shaking, you do your best to undo your heels and throw them into a corner as george rids himself of backpack and shirt; you mewl at the sight of him, muscles hardened in the moonlight, and sit up on your knees to clumsily undo his belt.

he shakes his head, moving your hands from him. “you first, angel. arms up, come on, let's get that pathetic excuse for a dress off you.”

“i thought you liked this dress?” you frown, even as you oblige and let him peel the dress up your body.

“i do, but - oh, fuck,” george moans as your almost-bare body is revealed to him. “it was doing an awful job of stopping me thinking about you like this.”

his gaze on you is almost predatory, so much so that it makes you sink back onto your knees in submission, legs slightly open and chest forward. “do i live up to your daydreams, sir? no, wait,” you squint, assessing george to see if you can figure him out. “do i live up to your daydreams, daddy?”

you've hit the nail on the head; george’s eyes close as he swears and undoes his belt, kicking his trousers and shoes off before climbing onto the bed, onto you. he pulls you slowly onto his lap, and rocks you back and forth even more slowly. “does this answer your question, baby?” he murmurs, the gravel in his voice liquifying your insides and sending them straight into your underwear. the friction against his hardness is incredible, and all you can do is whine as you look into those obsidian eyes - again, that's not good enough for george, who delivers a sharp smack to your ass. “words, angel. tell daddy what you think.”

“i - ooh,” you whimper, as george changes angle to one that manages to catch your clit with every grind. “i think i live up to them, yes, daddy. think you wanna fuck me, and - shit - i want that too.”

“my smart girl,” he kisses you again, another head-melter that has you moaning into his mouth. “what else do you want, hmmm? want me to go down on you?”

as tempting as having that mouth between your legs sounds… that isn’t what you want right now. “wake me up like that tomorrow, please,” you savour the way george whines into your neck at the thought. “but right now, i just need you to fill me up, daddy.”

“well, i did say you could ask me for anything you liked,” he grins against you, kissing you quickly before softly laying you down. “fuck, look at you, angel, so fucking beautiful. where have they been keeping you from me all this time?” 

your cheeks burn at the way he bites his lip, trailing his hands over your bare chest and all the way down to your panties. “i mean, seriously,” he hums. “i've never wanted to fuck someone more in my life.”

“so do it. please,” you open your legs, showing him the surely-visible wet patch on your silky underwear. “need you inside me, daddy.”

“alright, alright,” george huffs out a laugh, one of disbelief, as he trails a finger up your clothed slit. “jesus, you’re soaked already. can i take these off?”

“please.”

he smiles, dragging the material down your legs and his fingers through your wetness; evilly, he slides the same hand beneath his boxers to palm himself, groaning. when you protest, he laughs. “just making sure we're both ready, baby. speaking of… protection?”

you say nothing, and just reach across to grab your pill packet from the bedside table and wave it at him.

“noted,” he leans forward to kiss you, before moving back onto his knees to slide his boxers off. as the fabric drops, so does your jaw: you knew from the feeling of him under you that you weren't dealing with something compact, here, but george is fucking huge. like, slightly terror-inducing huge. that said, though, you begin to salivate at the sight of him - he notices this, and giggles. “like what you see?”

“yeah,” wide eyed, you look up at his face, your own breaking into an anticipated smile; tentatively, you reach out to touch his cock, both of you gasping in tandem when you wrap your hand (as best you can) around him, manicured thumb flicking over the pre-cum soaked tip. neither of you break eye contact as you pump him a few times, the sexual tension in the room too magnetic to do so, and when you speak it comes out in a whisper. “how do you want me?”

“how don’t i want you?” george smirks, tapping your wrist to make you let go of him. he shuffles forward, big hands meeting your chest and squeezing gently, and beams when you whine. “fucking love that sound. lie back for me, angel, wanna watch these tits while i make you feel good. that alright?”

“mhmm,” you do as asked, fanning your hair across the pillow and spreading your legs - george can't seem to decide where to look, eyes darting between your face and chest and glistening cunt, and it makes you feel incredible. “like this, daddy?”

he nods. “perfect,” his lips find yours again  as he settles above you, resting his weight on one hand while the other slides between your thighs again. two long fingers tentatively dip into your cunt, and george groans while you gasp at the fullness. christ, if this is how you react to his fingers, then what on earth will it be like when he's actually fucking you? “jesus, baby, you're so fucking tight,” he hisses, eyes heavy as he looks down into yours. “want me to get you off with my hand first, before you take my cock? i mean, you're wet enough that you should be alright, but… i want you to feel good. comfortable. s'all about you, angel.”

shit. you have a sneaking suspicion that this man might genuinely be the death of you. but at least you'll die happy, yeah?

smiling, slightly dazed, you shake your head. “just want you to fuck me, daddy. need it, needed your cock all night.”

“you're sure?” george caresses your cheek.

“i'm sure,” you nod, humming happily as you watch him pump himself and drag his length through your wetness. “put it in, please.”

“sweet girl,” he kisses you, deep and slow, and pushes into you, the same. “oh my god.”

you're speechless, breathless, completely fucking brainless - all you can think about is the utterly delicious way george is stretching you out. nobody you've ever fucked before has really made you relate to the metaphor “rearranging your guts”, but with him it's crystal clear; he's so gentle and you're so turned on that it isn't painful, but he's definitely ruined any other man for you already and he's - you look down to check - not even fully inside you yet.

you giggle, slightly delirious, at that realisation. george smiles at you, groaning as he bottoms out and stills inside you. “feeling good?”

“so fucking good,” you lean up to kiss him, whining against his lips at the slight change in angle. fuck, he’s deep. “fuck me, please.”

he smirks. “magic word?”

“fuck me, please,” you kiss him again, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip then pulling back and whispering. “daddy.”

“good girl,” george pulls your legs around his waist, slowly sliding out of you and back in; you both moan in harmony as he does. “jesus, you feel incredible.”

you preen, beaming up at him - the smile is knocked from your face as he speeds up, though, in favour of your jaw dropping in pleasure. “yeah, that's it. fucking me so good, don't stop, please.”

“not stopping until i get you off, angel, don't worry,” he shifts slightly again, his next thrust hitting a spot inside you that you didn't think existed; when he does, you whimper, the contact sending another gush to your core and shockwaves throughout your body. “oh, you liked that, didn't you, sweet girl? shall i do it again? yeah, i think i will.”

he does, ripping a cry from your throat in the process. your legs quiver around his waist, the repeated hits to the area sparking them into movement, and you clutch desperately at his forearm beside your head. “daddy…”

“what is it, angel?” george leans down to kiss you, still fucking you relentlessly. “tell me what you want.”

your brain is growing hazier by the second, dopamine and serotonin and god knows what else overpowering all your motor functions, but you still manage to oblige. “want - fuck - want you to choke me.”

“fuck,” george’s eyes roll back slightly. “you're sure?”

you nod, stomach contracting in ecstasy. “need it, need you.”

“you're so fucking cute,” he grins, incongruous with the way his big hand wraps around your neck and presses, just enough for you to sigh happily and clench around him. “think you really might be an angel, by the way,” he pants out, never letting the rhythm of his hips drop. “you feel like heaven. look like it, too. and trust me, later on,” he kisses your neck, dragging his tongue up so he can whisper in your ear. “i am going to get on my knees and worship you for hours.”

okay, it's settled - he's perfect. you can never fuck anyone else ever again. “please.”

“‘please’ what, sweet girl? please do that?” he coos, sucking another mark just under your jaw. “or please make you cum?”

“cum,” you choke out from under his hand, legs practically thrashing from how good you feel. “please, daddy.”

“gonna be a good girl and help me, then?” george looks you straight in the eye, his almost completely shut in pleasure. “touch yourself for me. show me what you're gonna do every time you think about this, about me.”

christ alive. you obey (you're not sure that you'd be unable to resist that voice even if you wanted to), grabbing one of your tits in one hand and sliding the other between your bodies to your clit. as soon as you touch the bundle of nerves, the shockwaves pulsing through your body increase tenfold; if not for george above you, grounding you, you reckon you'd have shot off the mattress by now. through a quivering jaw, you talk to him. “m'so close, so fucking close.”

“me too, angel,” george’s eyelids flutter as he talks. “don't fight it - cum for me, my good girl, cum on my fucking cock.”

your body does as it’s told, a final surge of pleasure flowing through your body so strongly that you actually black out for a second; your fuse is relit by george groaning, gravel and guttural, in your ear, imminent climax signalled by his hips falling out of rhythm for the first time so far and his hand slackening on your neck. “oh, fuck, i'm there. can i… inside?”

“yeah,” you breathe out. “fill me up, daddy.”

“shit!”

with a moan of your name, george buries himself to the hilt inside you one final time, thrusting shallow and kissing you fiercely as he paints your insides white. once he’s done, he carefully lies down on top of you and rests his head in the crook of your neck, still inside you as you both catch your breath. despite finishing last, he’s the first to speak, moving to hover over you and kiss you again. “i'm so glad you decided to go out tonight.”

“me too,” you giggle. “same again next week?”

“absolutely. i'll be the one waiting by the speakers.”

#and yes i DID crop matthew out of the pic thank you for asking #mads muses #mads does writing #george daniel fanfiction #george daniel fanfic #george daniel fic #george daniel x reader #george x reader #george daniel smut

[kennedy-brooke]

Dress

George Daniel x (Fem) Reader

Summary: You’ve been best friends with George Daniel for as long as you can remember, but your relationship has always suggested something more. The pining and waiting quickly becomes too much to handle, and you finally decide that something has to be done. A night out with your friends is the perfect excuse for you to wear the dress you bought, with the only intention of having him take it off.

heavily based on the song dress by taylor swift

Word Count: 9.9k

Part 2

a/n: hello lovely people. after many setbacks, my George Daniel fic is FINALLY here! shoutout to @imagine-that-100 and @alovesreading for making me finish it and helping me when i got stuck (i would have given up without the peer pressure support). There is a serious lack of George Daniel fiction, so here is my shot at fixing this problem. I got extremely carried away, and though it was originally meant to be a oneshot, THERE IS A PART 2!! so no worries, the good stuff is on the way and will be here @ 12 est on monday, august 21st ;)

You had been friends with George Daniel for ages, long before the band had gotten big. The pair of you had been through all of it together.

You had been there while his hair was flowing and damaged, and you had cried when he decided to buzz it off - while he simply held you and laughed at your reaction.

Just as he had been there for your mid-life crisis, when you decided bleaching your hair was the only way to get through it, and he looked right at you and lied to your face saying that it looked good.

You’ve always been the closest of friends - and fame has done little to change that fact - but when it comes to your dynamic duo, there has always been an undercurrent of something more.

While you’re just as close with the other boys, your relationship with George has always been different. Friends don't banter quite like the two of you. They don’t openly flirt like you do. They don’t share longing looks with one another, or take any opportunity to make physical contact with each other the way you two do. It wasn’t normal. You knew it, he knew it, hell, everyone knew it - they watched as the pair of you danced around the connection, the overwhelming and obvious chemistry, waiting to see who would finally make the first move.

You would balance precariously along the tightrope marking the barrier between friends and something else, something more, slowly tilting towards free falling into the unknown, before hastily shifting weight and falling back to the safety net of friendship. It was painful to watch - the boys individually giving the pair of you shit for the obvious harbored feelings - but it was never as painful as it was to experience.

Being as close as you were, you watched as George brought home girl after girl, trying your best to be the supportive friend you were while simultaneously trying to keep your own emotions in check. Nodding as he went on to Matty about his latest shag, telling Ross you were fine as he looked at you with concern written across his face.

It wasn’t as if the two of you were together. Why wouldn’t you be fine?

George sat back and watched as guys came up to buy you drinks at the bar that you’d happened to stop at. He scoffed and looked away as you threw your head back laughing at something the new guy said - it couldn’t be that funny - and Matty shot him a knowing look that screamed go do something about it.

He never did, though. He watched and watched, and when he had finally had enough, he found a distraction in someone else.

The game went on for years. An uncomfortable, tension-filled game that was by no means enjoyable for any party involved; but recently, there was something that had shifted.

Just before the boys left for “At Their Very Best,” you and George continued to be practically inseparable, but it wasn’t in the same way you had been before. Where your secret moments in a crowded room had been subtle and the touches fleeting (or so you both thought), they were now blatantly obvious.

You sat pressed against him, his arm around your shoulders holding you close. He stood behind you, arms around your waist, gazing at you while you rambled to Matty about some book you had just read. You leaned against the doorway to the studio, looking on as George messed with the tracks, unknowing to your watching eyes. You played with the rings on his fingers while he chatted with the boys, not letting go even after you finished fiddling with the metal. He placed his hand on your thigh, too high to be a friendly gesture, as he drove you to Matty’s place to meet up with the rest of the band.

The tension had continued to build, leading up to the party being thrown in celebration of the release of “Being Funny In a Foreign Language”. The night hadn’t gone to plan for either of you - rather it was thrown off course by a simple interruption and only proceeded to go downhill from there.

Everyone had been having a lovely time, really. Shots had been taken, more drinks had been poured, and you had found yourself on the settee watching as Matty approached.

“Where’s your loverboy?” Smirking, Matty sat himself next to you and threw his arm over your shoulder.

“Hello to you too, Ratty.” Rolling your eyes, you offered nothing in response to his antics, watching as he threw his hand over his chest in mock offense. “He’s in the kitchen, I think, and he’s not my ‘loverboy’, Matty. We’ve been over this.”

He gave you a knowing look. “Ah, but you knew exactly who I was talking about, didn’t you?”

You brought your glass of wine to your mouth, swallowing down the last of it and leveled him with a glare. “I need another drink.”

“Y/n, come on now! Don’t be like that - I was only messing.” He shook your shoulder a bit before drawing you into his side for a hug. “I was just wondering where our Georgie had disappeared to and figured you would have the answer, seeing as I haven’t seen the two of you apart for weeks.”

Sighing, you pouted and let yourself relax into Matty’s side hug. You knew he was right, if anyone was to know where George had gone off to, it would be you - and to be fair, you did know where he was - but you also knew that Matty’s comment wasn’t as innocent as he made it seem.

He was prying. They all had been, and it didn’t help that you had made the drunken mistake to confide in Matty one night a few months back.

He knew how you felt. How in denial you were about having feelings for your best friend. How you were too scared to do anything about it because you didn’t want to ruin your friendship. He knew you thought it was ridiculous and cliched, and he knew that you hated it - but he also knew that those feelings weren’t going away and that the recent clinginess between the both of you was only making those feelings more intense - whether you wanted to admit it or not.

“How’s all of that going, by the way?” Matty prodded, feeling a need to break the silence since you had yet to respond.

You rolled your eyes again, “I’m not sure what you mean, Matty, seeing as there isn’t anything going anywhere.”

“You know exactly what I mean, y/n/n. Neither of you are exactly subtle.” At that you cut your eyes at him, to which Matty just chuckled. “I’m not wrong, and you know it.”

“Well, nothing has happened and it’s probably not going to, so maybe you are.” You huffed and sank lower into your seat, staring at your wine glass as if it would refill itself if you looked at it long enough.

“I highly doubt that. I know George and he wouldn’t just be acting like that for the fun of it. And I know how you feel - you’ve told me as much yourself. What I still don’t understand is why neither of you have done anything about it, it’s simple enough.”

You look over at Matty exasperated, “Matty, I love you, but he’s my best friend and it’s really not that simple. You don’t know the half of it and I wish you’d all just leave it be.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant-”

“I know, Matty, and I appreciate it - but I’d like to enjoy myself tonight and not talk about my pathetic love life.” You smile tightly at him before looking at your empty glass once more and pushing yourself up from your seat. “I’m getting another drink.”

Matty doesn’t utter a word as you get up and make your way to the kitchen - smart man, you think.

Sighing, you make your way around the other party-goers, finding yourself deep in thought. You knew that he had good intentions. Matty can be a dick, but he has a kind heart and has always been a good friend to you.

The issue was that everyone keeps talking like they know exactly what the problem is and how you’re feeling about it, acting as if your situation has an easy fix - when in reality they know absolutely nothing about whatever is going on between the two of you.

George Daniel has been your best mate for ages, you weren’t about to mess all of it up because of some measly feelings. Even if that meant pining in silence, reminding yourself that it’s for the best, trying not to think about what it would be like to be with him in that way. To hug him, but not as a best friend. To spend time with him, but not as a best friend. To kiss-

No. You weren’t going there tonight. You were going to enjoy your time with the boys before they went on tour. There would be no daydreaming about George Daniel and his eyes… and lips… and hands… and-

God. You needed another drink.

Reaching the doorway to the kitchen, you looked in and saw George having a conversation with Ross, his back turned towards where you were standing. He seemed fully immersed in whatever he was talking about and was completely unaware of your presence in the kitchen.

It would be so easy to scare him right now, and just as the thought came to mind, you decided to do just that.

Quietly, you sat your glass down behind the coffee pot and began to slowly walk towards him. Glancing up, you made eye contact with Ross, who quirked his eyebrow upwards. You quickly placed your finger over your lips in response, signaling for him to stay quiet as you crept up slowly behind George.

Realizing what you were trying to do, Ross swiftly looked away from you and began talking to George again, trying to distract him so you could carry out your plan. Once you made it directly behind him, assuring you were completely out of sight, you waited for the perfect moment. And as soon as he opened his mouth to speak, you struck.

You quickly brought up your hands, spreading them open just to snap them closed on George’s waist, aggressively whacking him on either side of his body and letting out a loud yell, “AH!”

“Fucking HELL-” George jumped up in place, swiftly spinning around and fighting off your hands’ attack on his sides by flailing his free arm, the other being occupied by his drink. His face showed nothing short of utter bewilderment, stunned by the sudden attack. His eyebrows pulled down and his mouth gaped open and closed like a fish, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

His reaction, and the expression of shock on his face, sent you into a round of obnoxious laughter - to which Ross joined in on at the expense of his best mate.

“You little shit,” unimpressed, George glared at your laughing figure, bent over at the waist and trying to recompose yourself. “It’s honestly not that funny.”

“Oh, but G, it really was. Your face - absolutely priceless. I wouldn’t have thought your sides would have been so sensitive - you practically levitated off the ground.” Slowly catching your breath, you smiled up at him.

Ross, wanting to stir the pot, gave his own input. “He definitely did - should have seen his face when you got him. Swear I’ve never seen him jump so high.”

George, looking completely unamused, was less than impressed with you and Ross teaming up against him. “I did not. You startled me is all-” He turned to look you dead in the eyes before continuing “-and you’re one to talk. My sides are sensitive, hm? Mine?” George began to smirk and sat his drink next to Ross as he slowly started making his way over to you.

The mischievous glint in his eye was alarming, and you immediately started backing away. You knew what he was up to, and you weren’t about to simply stand there.

With every step he took forward, you took one back, desperately trying to get out of the hole you had just dug for yourself. He kept moving forward, and you kept moving backward - until your back hit the counter and there was nowhere for you to run. However, that didn’t deter George from moving closer still. He continued to walk toward where you were standing, pushing his way into your personal space and pressing you further against the counter.

He looked down at you and smirked, “What was it you said about sensitive sides?” and that's when he struck.

He quickly brought his hands up to your sides, giving you no time to react before he’s started aggressively tickling you. You squealed and burst out laughing, releasing a loud cackling sound that you had no control over.

“George- G wait- GEORGE STOP-'' Your laughter enveloped the kitchen, and caused George’s smirk to slowly turn into a genuine smile. “no NO STOP IT I'M SORRY”

Laughing along with you, George continued his attack. “What was that, darling? I don’t think I heard you- you’re sorry?”

“Stop - STOP YES IM SORRY - IM SORRY PLEASE. George- GEORGE PLEASE NO MORE.”

“See? Was that so hard?” George chuckled at you as you tried to catch your breath and he slowly stopped his attack on your sides.

You looked up at the tree of a man in front of you, trying to hide your smile as you gave him your best attempt at a glare. As soon as you made eye contact, though, your smile broke loose and you couldn’t help but release a half-giggle, half-chuckle at the man you had grown to adore.

The eye contact went unbroken, developing from a look of amusement to a sticky sort of fond look that continued to be passed between the two of you.

“That was nasty of you, G.” You narrowed your eyes at him, pushing on his chest and looking away for a brief moment before your eyes unconsciously drifted back to your best friend.

“I wouldn’t say that I’m the nasty one here, love. Don’t try to sneak up on me next time and you can avoid this mess.” Completely unphased by your light-hearted shove, George simply moved closer, placing his hands on the counter top by each side of your waist, effectively caging you in and bringing your bodies closer than they had been before.

“It was too good of an opportunity, G. I had to.”

The new distance, or rather the lack of such, sent a nervous, giddy feeling straight to your stomach. You and George had been dancing around the tension for weeks, waiting for the other to break - to finally make the first move - but nothing had happened yet and you were getting antsy.

There’s only so much flirting without any effect that you can take before you explode, and tour was starting up in the next week. He would be out of reach then - untouchable until the band was back home for a break. Their return would be months after they leave for tour, and the distance would provide you both with no consistent communication, what with time zones and work.

The pressure was laying heavily on the both of you and the close proximity was making your head fuzzy and your stomach turn - or maybe it was the wine you had been nursing all night - you weren’t sure anymore.

The renewed eye contact had become too much to handle, so you diverted your eyes downward and came face to face with George’s neck and chest. You couldn’t help but slowly drag your eyes across his frame, taking in his chiseled jawline and letting them roam down the expanse of his neck until they caught on an unfamiliar piece of jewelry hanging around it.

Reaching up, you softly slid your finger underneath the necklace and pinched it between your fingers to get a closer look at the piece. It was a simple chain - nothing outrageously large or bulky, but rather a thin, lightweight gold that laid nicely around his neck and had been neatly tucked beneath his shirt.

“Is this new?”

George hadn’t been paying a bit of attention. He was too focused on the smell of your perfume and the soft look that had taken over your features now that you had finally calmed down. You were beautiful. You always had been, but God, if you didn’t look unreal standing so close to him. He was intently committing your features to memory, as if he hadn’t already done so many times before, when you pulled him out of his daze.

“What?” He glanced down at your hands, now holding the thin chain and examining it. “Oh - that? yeah I just got it last week. Hadn’t found a chance to wear it yet, decided tonight was a good time. Do you like it?”

“Mhm, it’s nice.” You weren’t lying, it looked good on him - more than good - but you couldn’t help but tease him a bit. With the chain still between your fingers, you hooked your index finger beneath it and gave a quick tug, bringing his face closer to yours. “- think I could pull it off better, though.”

“Is that so?” George glanced at your face and found you looking at the gold necklace, a small smile gracing your face.

“Oh, definitely. I could pull it off way better than you do.” Your smile turning into a smirk, you tugged on the necklace a bit more, looking up at George to find his eyes trained on your own.

“Mmm, I’m sure you could.” His eyes flicked down to your lips, the smirk there morphing back into a smile, and he couldn’t help but wonder what they would feel like pressed against his own.

You had found yourself in a similar situation. You caught him looking at your lips, causing a flush to crawl up your neck. Later, if anyone asked, you would swear it was because of the wine, NOT because your best friend was looking at your lips like he was dying to explore them with his own.

On their own accord, your eyes had drifted downwards and were staring at his own lips. They had a small upturn to them, a content smile gracing his face as he continued to look at your own.

“Y/n -” It was barely there, a whisper of sorts that you wouldn’t have caught if you hadn’t been intently staring at his lips to see them part as he spoke your name.

With that one breath, everything stopped. You were no longer in the kitchen at a friend’s house, and it felt as if there was no one else around you for miles. It was just you and George sharing this one small moment.

Without noticing, you had both started leaning in. Your stomach started tumbling - was this going to be it? Finally, it was finally going to happen - fuck the consequences - and there was nothing that could stop it, nothing at all -

“Ahem-” Looking positively sheepish, Ross broke the bubble the two of you had created.

In all honesty, you had forgotten that Ross was even there and once broken out of your daze, you realized how close your faces had become. The two of you quickly jumped apart, eyes diverting to look at anything but each other.

“So sorry for interrupting, um, whatever that was -” and to be fair he did look distraught for having been the one to burst your bubble, “- but Matty has been calling George’s name for a bit now and i figured you wouldn’t want him to be the one to break you two apart.”

You and George both grimace. He’s right, you definitely did not want Matty witnessing whatever just happened.

“Plus, it was getting a bit uncomfortable just standing there in silence while that played out.”

You stood there blinking, still trying to come back from your previous daze - which caused George to be the first to respond.

He looks panicked and more than a little distressed. “No- Yeah- I mean no, it’s alright. I- um I should go see what he needs.” And without sparing you another glance, George grabs his drink and walks away.

You watch him walk out of the room, your mouth hung open in disbelief. You had almost kissed. You and George had almost kissed and he just walked away. What the fuck just happened?

“Y/n, listen- I’m sorry for-”

“What? Oh, no it’s um- it’s alright, no worries- Have you, um, have you seen my glass? I don’t, uh, I don’t know where I set it.” You were beyond flustered, and a bit upset. George walked off and it all hit you at once.

You were in love with George Daniel, you had almost kissed him, and now everything was all sorts of messed up. You were absolutely screwed.

Ross, not knowing how to make any of this better and wanting to kick himself for interrupting the moment, just stood there and watched as you flitted about the kitchen - mumbling about where you may have set your glass.

After spending a few minutes half-heartedly looking for your glass, you stop and sigh. “You know, what? Fuck it.” And with that, you walk over to grab the full wine bottle sitting on the countertop next to Ross and hurry your way out of the kitchen to find somewhere else to drown your sorrows. So much for enjoying the night.

Helpless, Ross watches you with wide eyes, before looking around to see if anyone else had just seen that. He makes a mental note to check on you later to make sure you were okay, before walking out of the kitchen in the opposite direction - deciding to give you some time to process what just happened.

In the living room, the party was still in full swing and after being roped into a conversation with Adam and Carly, Ross had forgotten about checking in on you.

Almost an hour had passed, and Matty had yet to see you come back from the kitchen. He looked around the room once more, scanning the many faces to see if he recognized yours amongst them. When his eyes found George across the room and didn’t see you anywhere near him, he excused himself from the conversation and set off to find where you had gone to.

After searching the outside patio, the kitchen, one hallway closet, and two bedrooms, you were still nowhere to be found. Matty had absolutely no idea as to where you could be and was growing more worried by the second. He knew you could take care of yourself, and he knew you could hold your liquor - but if he wasn’t mistaken, you had been drinking red wine tonight and you tended to get yourself into unfortunate situations when red wine was added to the equation.

He began walking back down the hall, passing the bathroom before an idea came to mind. Backtracking, he went back to the closed door and knocked twice, calling out to see if anyone was inside. “Hello? Anyone in here?”

When there was no response, Matty tried the door knob and found it unlocked. He opened the door and stuck his face inside, glancing around the bathroom and finding it to be empty. He sighed and was about to leave the bathroom once more when he heard a scuffle come from the shower and -

“Shit.”

Matty stopped in his tracks at the all too familiar voice and pushed the door completely open. He slowly walked over to the shower, before grabbing the curtain and quickly pulling it back only to find your figure awkwardly curled in the bathtub, clutching a mostly-empty wine bottle.

“Um, hi?” You looked up at Matty with a guilty look on your face, giving your best attempt at a smile - one that was none too convincing based on Matty’s responding grimace.

“The fuck are you doing?” Matty looked at you expectantly, glancing from the wine bottle and back to your face.

“Well- you see… I don’t, uh, I don’t know. It was just so calm and quiet, Matty. And the wine was making me just a little dizzy and so was George and - Oh god, George - Matty I really want George but I think I just fucked it all up - oh god. ” You started rambling, your words beginning to slur together into a whine - and if Matty didn’t already think you were drunk when he first saw the bottle in your hands, he was sure of it now.

“Christ, Y/n - how much of that have you had to drink?”

“Only -” You brought up your free hand and pinched your index finger and thumb together, leaving a tiny space between them and squinting to look through it, “- thiiiis much.”

Matty sighed for what felt like the millionth time that night. Since when did he become the responsible one between the two of you.

He walked back to the door, shutting it behind him, before turning back around and sitting down next to the tub. “What happened, love?”

“Oh, nothing really - I just scared George in the kitchen and he tickled me and then we almost kissed but Ross interrupted and then G all but ran out of the room and i couldn’t find my glass and I really needed a drink and so i just grabbed the whole bottle and wanted to go somewhere quiet and so i came in here just in case I had to pee and i ended up in the shower and i can’t stop thinking about George an-”

“Fucks sake, Y/n. Take a breath for me.” You had started talking a mile a minute, gesturing your hands while still holding the bottle of wine and somehow managing to spill some of it down the side of the bathtub.

“Ah, shit. I’ve gone and spilt it again.”

Matty was staring at you with wide eyes, trying and failing to hide his shock. He hadn’t a clue what was going on and was sure this would be a shit-ton to unpackage later - but he’d already had a few drinks and there was no way he was processing any of this tonight.

And you - you were completely plastered and doing a poor job at hiding it. Not that Matty could blame you after everything that had just tumbled from your lips. He watched as you tried to clean up the mess you had made with the corner of your shirt before huffing and letting your head fall back harshly against the shower wall.

The contact made a loud thump, making both Matty and yourself wince. “Y/n, love, are you okay?”

You gave a short, empty chuckle in response and leveled him with a deadpan look. “Oh, I’m just lovely, Matthew. Thank you so much for asking.” You sigh again, lifting your head just to let it fall once more as you groan.

Reaching out for you, Matty stopped you as you went to lift your head. “Okay- maybe don’t be doing that again. Do you need anything? Want me to get you something? Some water maybe?”

“Can you get George for me pretty please?” You closed your eyes, opening them back up when Matty had yet to respond.

He was searching your face, trying to see if getting George was the best idea.

“Matty, please? I’m not gunna do anything stupid, ‘promise.” You gave him a dopey-looking drunk smile, and held up your pinky trying to convince him.

“But-”

“Just because I’m in love with him doesn’t mean I can’t act normal after a few drinks. Please? He’s my ride home.”

Matty’s eyes widen, not expecting that to come out of your mouth. You had never explicitly said how you felt about George before, only that your feelings for him went past platonic and that you were too scared to act on them. It didn’t seem like you were aware of what you had just said, though, so Matty decided to let it slide and store it away for a later time (along with everything else that had happened that night).

He sighed, yet again. “Yeah, okay. I’ll - I’ll go get him, but I need you to stay here, alright?”

Nodding sluggishly, you watched as Matty stood himself up and went to leave the bathroom - assuming he was going to find George.

Once Matty had left and shut the door behind him, you - carefully this time - laid your head back to rest against the wall and closed your eyes. The room had started to tilt and your stomach had started to turn; but you’d be damned if you threw up now.

You had overdone it with the wine, you knew that already, but who could really blame you? After almost kissing the man you were oh-so-unfortunately in love with (who also happened to be your oldest and closest friend) and having him practically sprint out of the room to get away from you, you figured you were entitled to get just a little drunk.

To be fair, you were much more than a little drunk - having downed the majority of the bottle of wine that was full once upon a time - but you needed to not think for a moment.

You didn’t want to think about George’s hands at your sides, or his arms caging you against the counter. You didn’t want to think about how he looked at you so fondly before staring directly, and not-so-subtly, at your lips. You didn’t want to think about his broad shoulders and chest, or that stupidly attractive gold chain necklace that was hanging so beautifully around his neck. You didn’t want to - yet here you were thinking about it anyway.

At this point, your head had started to pound. God, how much had you drank for your head to already be hurting before the hangover had even started? You went to open your eyes, but the lights were blinding and you immediately shut them again.

With the room silent and your eyes closed, you took a moment to look over your night.

You weren’t sure why you had almost kissed him, but you could have sworn he wanted it to happen too. It couldn’t have been all in your head - you were delusional at times, but that was too cruel even for your own mind. That didn’t explain why he had bolted, though. Maybe he was embarrassed to have wanted to kiss you, or maybe he was drunk and thought you were someone else.

The night had become a disaster, and you prayed everyone else was at least having a good time. You had come tonight so you could enjoy some time with your friends before they left on tour, not so you could wallow in self pity over the fact that you wanted your best friend in a completely non-platonic way. How you had managed to get to the point where you were spilling wine in a bathtub was beyond you, however one thing had become extremely clear tonight: you weren’t sure how much longer you would be able to hide these ridiculous feelings before you quite literally exploded into 1,975 tiny little pieces.

You huffed and brought your arm up to rest it over your eyes. This train of thought wasn’t helping your mood one bit. If anything, it just made you want to cry, but you were far too wasted to push yourself off the path of self-destruction.

When you heard the bathroom door open, you didn’t move an inch and kept your eyes closed, assuming it was just Matty again.

“Matty, I really just want George,” you mumbled into your arm that was still draped over your face, while the other hand brought the wine bottle closer to your chest.

“You have me, Darling. I’m right here.”

Your eyes shot open at the familiar voice that most definitely did not belong to Matty Healy, only to find your best friend leaning against the door frame.

“Georgieee-” And by that nickname alone, George knew you were extremely drunk.

Matty had warned him of your state, briefly telling him that you were far from sober - but he hadn’t said it was this bad. You only ever use that name when you’re wasted, it was G or George otherwise

“Hello, Darling.” Your insides turned to mush at the name, physically sinking further into the bathtub and whining.

“Oh God, don’t do that.” You drug your hand down your face, as if you could wipe away the alcohol’s effect. You had no control of what was coming out of your mouth right now, and you probably wouldn’t remember most of this by morning. It was a recipe for disaster and you swore his presence was only making you feel more drunk.

“What- do what?” George looked at you with genuine confusion. Had he done something?

“Do that thing. Y’know - with your eyes and your voice and the ‘Darling’.” you dropped your voice as low as you could at the word ‘darling’, mocking his voice before proceeding to groan loudly. “ugh- that thing that makes me really want you and your attention.”

George chuckled at your words, looking down at you with that same sticky sort of fond look that made you want to melt under his gaze. “You have me, love. I’m paying attention - promise.”

You groaned again, “No - Stooppp.” You immediately looked away from his face and threw your hand over your eyes.

Laughing at your childish actions, George reached over to pry your hand away from your face, smiling as you gave in almost immediately. “Stop what? I’m giving you what you wanted right? You wanted me and my attention - so here I am.”

Apparently you had become one to make many noises tonight, because you simply whined in response, weakly trying to pull your hand from George’s grasp. “No- George you don’t get it. I don’t want it like that. I don’t want you like a best friend.”

At that, he let go of your hand and stared. You obviously hadn’t registered your words, too drunk to realize what you had accidentally let slip, and George didn’t know how to react. He had a gut feeling that you had gotten this plastered because of him, and with it came an unwelcome feeling of guilt.

Of course he wanted to kiss you back in the kitchen, he would be a fool to have wanted otherwise. But he was drunk and you were his best friend. Just because he wanted to kiss you then and there didn’t mean he had the right to ruin your friendship over some complicated feelings.

He doubted you knew what you were saying, anyways. You were drunk. It didn’t mean anything.

“Alright, Y/n. Let’s get you home.”

Sighing and pouting slightly, you reached both arms outwards and made grabbing motions with your hands, signaling for George to help you up. George huffed out a laugh at your actions before grabbing your hands and pulling upwards to get you in a standing position.

Once standing upright, you started feeling dizzy and began to wobble on your feet. Yeah, you had definitely had too much to drink.

Reaching back out to stabilize you, George lightly held both of your hips. “Woah, there Y/n/n. You alright? Can you stand by yourself?”

As soon as the question left his mouth, you felt the room spin and you immediately started to shake your head. “Um nope - no, definitely not.”

George looked at you and sighed. “Okay then, hold on.” And with that, he bent down, placing one arm behind your back and the other behind your knees, before lifting you up bridal style and bringing you into his chest.

You gasped, bringing your arms up and around George’s neck. “What are you doing, I’m fine-”

“Y/n. No you're not, you can barely stand, much less walk. So I'm carrying you outside to get a taxi, and you are going to let me.”

You balked at him for a moment before responding, “yes sir!” and giving him a quick salute. You placed your arm back around his neck as he began walking out of the bathroom and through the house.

You barely registered his good-bye’s as he quickly made his way through the now small crowd of people. How long had you been in that bathroom?

As if he had read your thoughts, “You were in there for a while, most of them already headed home. Mainly just the boys left now.”

You nodded your head as George stepped outside, walking to the road where a taxi was already waiting on the two of you. He set you down, helping you maneuver your way into the car before sliding in next to you.

As soon as he shut the door behind him, you sluggishly slid over to sit in the middle seat and rested your head on George’s shoulder. You twisted, dragging your eyes to look at him, when they caught on his gold necklace again.

You slowly brought your hand up and started messing with the chain. “‘Really like your necklace, G,” you mumbled sleepily into his shoulder. “Think I want one for me, too.”

You glanced up at your best friend - giving him a small, tired smile - and found him already looking down at you.

The eye contact was soft, lacking the heat and tension that was present earlier in the night. George watched as you tried to hold it, but ultimately failed as you grew too tired to keep your eyes open any longer.

That’s how you fell asleep, with your head lying on your best friend’s shoulder and your hand on his chest, lightly gripping his gold necklace.

You vaguely remember being woken up so that George could help you into your flat and being led to your room where you quickly stripped out of your clothes and put on a t-shirt from the top of your drawer before climbing in the bed.

By the time your head hit the pillow, you had already started dozing off again; but you could have sworn you felt your hair being tucked behind your ear and a kiss being pressed to your face.

A soft, “Goodnight, Darling” was the last thing you heard before succumbing to a deep, alcohol-induced sleep.

• • •

When you woke the next afternoon, it was with a horrendous headache and no recollection of what had happened after you ran from the kitchen with a full bottle of wine.

Groaning, you had rolled over to look at the clock when you felt an unfamiliar weight around your neck. You brought your hand to the hollow of your neck, grabbing at the weight and lifting it far enough away from your chest to catch a glimpse at the item. What you saw made your breath hitch as you brought your other hand up to cover your mouth.

It was George’s gold chain necklace.

You checked your phone, finding one notification from George himself:

Don’t be mad - you kept saying how much you liked it, so I just left it with you.

I can always get another one

You softly smiled, thumbing at the gold now lying around your neck. You were absolutely, positively smitten with your best friend, and you hadn’t a clue what you were going to do about it.

That was two months ago, and while you wish you could say that you gathered the courage to make a move before the boys left for tour, you hadn’t been given the chance. Things had gotten busy for you at work and the lads had been preoccupied with tour preparations, leaving you all with no time to get together or speak before they were heading off to the states.

You had exchanged a few messages with them, of course, and you had tried to call when time and work allowed, but it wasn’t quite the same. You missed your friends. You missed George.

The two of you had messaged each other almost daily, however you never seemed to be able to catch each other at the right time - narrowly missing his messages and calls by mere minutes and then being unable to reach him again afterwards.

His gold necklace had found a permanent place around your neck, you rarely took it off - your friends joking that it may as well be a tattoo permanently etched into your skin - but it had become a comforting presence in the absence of George.

When you missed George - which was almost constantly - or when things became a bit much, you would find yourself gripping the necklace, rubbing the gold chain in search of comfort. It was nowhere near the level of comfort George himself brought you, but it did well enough.

You werent, however, moping about just because George was gone. You were a proud, strong, independent woman, and you could function perfectly fine without him. This wasn’t his first tour, and you weren’t new to the overall lack of George. Your world didn’t revolve around him - you had a job and a life outside of the boys - but that also didn’t mean you didn’t miss your closest friends when they went away.

You were fine, honestly, but sometimes you simply wanted to chat with the boys about nonsense or complain about your days like you often did when they were home. On their previous tours, you had been able to still talk to them - but your new job had made it almost impossible and you were struggling.

However, it was the barely missed messages from George that made this tour more difficult than the rest.

It was the simple “Miss you, Darling &lt;3” text that made you unbelievably giddy and the quick voice messages he would leave when you inevitably missed his call - each starting with a “Hello, Darling” and ending with “Love you, Darling. Talk to you soon.”

It was two long months of poor communication and getting flustered by the smallest bits of attention you would get from him. You had missed him before, but the longing that came with his absence this time was different and you were acutely aware of it.

You would tear up watching the clips from the end of their latest show as they bowed to the crowd, George wrapping Matty in one of his hugs that you desperately craved. Your stomach would turn, imagining him out at some club with a girl that wasn’t you, hugging a girl who wasn’t you, kissing a girl that was not you.

It was envy. It was jealousy. It was longing and wanting. You were in love with him, that much you had come to terms with, but it was two weeks before they were due back home that you came to the gut-wrenching conclusion that you weren’t okay with not trying something.

You decided that you couldn’t sit back and watch anymore - you were going to make him realize that you were a fucking catch. You were a fucking catch and you had been there the whole time, through thick and thin, for worse or for better, and you fucking loved him.

When you got a message from George, one inviting you out once they got back, you jumped at the opportunity.They were wanting to get a group together - you, the band, and some other close mutual friends - to go out for a night of fun a few days after Christmas and you were practically buzzing at the thought.

You hadn’t had a proper night out since before the lads had left for tour, and paired with the prospect of seeing your best friends again after months apart, your nerves were completely shot.

Never before had you been nervous to see the boys. You’d known them for years, and you were sure that it was mostly excitement that was keeping you awake at night, but there was still that small bit of anxiety that crept in when you thought about seeing George.

You were so happy to be seeing him again - but now that you were aware of how you felt about him, you were worried that things would change for the worse. What if you were awkward? What if you got flustered and embarrassed yourself? What if those messages were just to his best friend and you had been reading too far into them? What if you put yourself out there to be rejected?

You were spiraling. Why were you spiraling? It’s just George. Your George, your best friend. You were completely overthinking all of it. It wasn’t like you were going to confess your undying love the first time you see him after months. It would be fine - so long as you didn’t freak yourself out. It’s a get together with a bunch of friends, not the end of the world.

Even so, you couldn’t help but feel a bit of pressure to at least look your best. It wasn’t a need to impress anyone, honestly. You just wanted to get dressed up, to look nice after wearing the same boring clothes every day for work - and this outing just happened to give you that opportunity. George being there was just a happy coincidence.

Plus, it finally gave you a reason to wear the new dress you had bought.

You hadn’t intended to buy anything while you were out last week, you just wanted to get out of the house and do something not work related. But then you saw it through the window and you knew you had to at least try it on.

The dress was a far cry from your usual getup - not one for dresses and frilly things - but something about it was calling to you.

It was a simple, silky black dress with a deep v-cut in the neck that perfectly displayed your breasts. The top of the dress was lined with gold and the straps came up and around your neck before zig-zagging down your back and lacing up the dress, forgoing the struggle of any zippers. There were two meticulously placed slits above each knee, giving a clear view of the sides of your thighs and allowing for movement in the fitting material.

It was gorgeous, and you felt powerful in it. The way it emphasized your curves in all the right places, molding to your body and showing off all of your assets had you head over heels for the dress. Overall it was a relatively plain dress- but it fit you so well that it looked like it was intricately made just for you.

And maybe you had George on your mind when you tried it on, maybe you saw an image of it lying on the ground after he had taken it off of you. It wasn’t exactly the worst thought.

And so you bought it. You had no clue when you planned to wear it, you just knew you had to have it - in hopes that maybe, just maybe, that fantasy could come to life.

When George invited you out, you decided it was the perfect opportunity to wear it. So you put on the dress, along with a pair of heels that lace up your legs, and left your flat feeling more confident than you had in months.

All of which brought you to where you are now, at a table in the corner of the club, clutching your drink and watching on as George chats up some girl at the bar.

You watch as she places her hand on his bicep before laughing a little too enthusiastically at whatever it was George had been saying.

If you didn’t know any better, you would think they were getting on just fine and that George was going to have a successful pull tonight; but you do know better.

You see how his eyes go wide when she looks away for a moment, removing her hand from him to grab her drink. The way he looks at her like she's grown two heads and is likely thinking what the fuck is going on.

And when she places her hand back on his arm, you see how he tenses ever so slightly and doesn’t seem to relax.

The sight makes you grip your glass tighter. Any confidence you had when you left the flat had all but disappeared once you caught sight of your best friend. You had been so excited to see him, you didn’t stop to think about whether he would be preoccupied with someone else.

Someone else who is so conventionally pretty that you feel like your dress pales in comparison - even if George seems uncomfortable with all the attention she keeps trying to smother him with.

“If you grip that glass any tighter I think you might break it.”

The unexpected but familiar voice breaks you out of your sulking, if only for a moment, as you sigh before glancing at the man who was now cockily leaning against the post next to your table.

You look him up and down before sighing, “Matthew.”

His response is immediate, “Y/n.”

“To what do I owe the displeasure?”

Matty gasps, throwing his hand over his heart in mock offense and looking at you with wide eyes that show the amusement and mischief dancing in them.

“Now, y/n/n, is that any way to greet your dear friend after two long months apart?”

You shoot him an unamused look in response.

Matty, however, ignores you and continues on. “I couldn’t help but notice your brooding and decided that I’d come save the glass from imminent destruction.”

You roll your eyes and put as much sarcasm as possible into your response. “Wow, Ratty- you’re a true comedian.”

He simply smirks at your tone. “What can I say? I’m a natural.”

You huff out a laugh, unable to stop yourself. You had to admit, you’d missed having him around - regardless of how insufferable he could be.

Matty had a tendency to be so obnoxious that it easily took your mind off of whatever you were originally thinking about, and you knew he acted this way with that exact purpose in mind.

Coming up next to you, Matty smiles as he reaches his arm around your shoulders for a side hug and gives you a shake. “Oh, didn’t you just miss me so much?”

You give a good laugh at that before turning to look him in the eyes and giving him a deadpan look, saying, “Oh, yes. So much, Matty. Not sure how I survived these two, absolutely horrible, months apart.” with the most sarcasm you could muster.

Matty lets out a loud cackle and pulls you closer. “Oh, how I've missed your cheery self.” You can't help but smile at him. “How’ve you been, Y/n/n?”

You shrug, "Alright, yeah. How've you been? How was tour?"

And that question alone sends Matty into a long winded explanation of what they had gotten into during tour and what it was like this time around.

It was somewhere between his description of their Madison Square Garden show and the afterparty that you stopped listening.

It wasn't on purpose by any means, you truly did want to hear about how everything went this time around, but you were distracted.

Distracted because George was still talking to that girl - more like she was talking to him and he was being forced to listen - and he looked like he was growing more uncomfortable by the second. Couldn't she see that he wasn't interested?

Matty was still talking as you continued to watch them interact. You watch her say something and see George's eyes go comically wide as he looks around to see if anyone else was seeing this - or maybe he was looking for an escape.

You see her go to grab his hand and watch as he swiftly moves both hands

away to clutch at his drink. She seems to only pause for a moment before she decides to place her hand on his thigh. His thigh. And you see the way George stiffens under her touch, making you tense up yourself.

"You really might break that glass if you don't let go - that or you're going to burn a hole into that poor girl's head with all your staring."

You jump a little at Matty's sudden comment, not expecting him to direct the conversation towards you again. You look down at your glass, finally realizing that you had, in fact, been gripping the glass so hard that your knuckles had begun to turn white - and you immediately let go.

Looking back at Matty, you see both amusement and sympathy in his eyes, making you let out a scoff. 

"Don't know what you're going on about, Matty - what was it you were saying about the afterparty?"

Matty chuckles at your poor attempt at changing the topic, he wasn't letting it slide this time. "Oh don't go pretending like you were listening, Y/n/n. I moved on from the Garden afterparty a good bit ago, you just weren't paying attention.

You make an indignant sound at that. "That's not true, I-"

"Don't even try, love," Matty smirks at you before glancing over at George and patting your shoulder. "No worries, you were distracted - understandably so, he looks a bit cozy doesn't he?"

You scoff immediately. “No, he does not.”

Matty grins at you, “Oh?”

“He looks ridiculously uncomfortable right now, just look at him,” gesturing your arm over in George’s direction.

Matty directs his attention to his best mate, watching as the girl bats her eyelashes and lays her hand on George’s arm. He sees the way George tenses under her touch and the way his eyes widen to whatever she’s just said. 

“That’s the fifth time she’s tried to touch him, and he basically freezes every time.” You huff. 

“Five times, huh? You keeping count, y/n/n?” Matty turns to head to look at you, entertained by your mood.

You make an indignant noise at his words, “What? No- I- I'm just being a good friend is all.”

Matty nods his head exaggeratedly in false agreement, turning back to watch George. “Right, yes- a good friend… that you happen to be in love with.” Your jaw drops. “Definitely not jealousy.”

“How did you-”

He cuts you off, “Did you know, Y/n -” he briefly glances your way, “that red wine makes you rather talkative?”

You let out a loud groan, placing your head in your hands. 

Matty chuckles at your reaction, “Easy now, it’s alright- we already knew as much.”

“We? Oh my god, does George-” Your head shoots up in time to see Matty shaking his head. 

“No, you didn’t tell him and he doesn’t know - at least not unless you told him once we left you alone.”

You let out a sigh of relief, slumping into your seat and placing your head back into your hands. Being drunk wasn’t the way you wanted to tell George how you felt. 

Honestly, you had hoped to do it tonight, but any confidence you had to address the situation has long since disappeared. 

You keep your face in one hand while the other subconsciously starts fiddling with the necklace around your neck, thankful for its presence and the comfort it offers.

“He does look like he’s having an awful time doesn’t he?”

Matty’s words break you out of your head, and you look up to see George with his head thrown back and staring at the ceiling as if he was wishing for it to swallow him whole, paying absolutely no attention to whatever it is that the girl happens to be saying.

“It’s actually painful to watch.” You shake your head at the scene.

“If it’s so painful, why don’t you walk your perky self over there and help him?”

You turn to look at Matty, giving him a glare for his choice of wording. He really thinks he’s funny, doesn’t he?

To be honest, you aren’t sure why you hadn’t gone over there to help him yet. You’d been debating it for a bit now, and there’s every reason to go over there and get him out of the mess he’s found himself in - but there was something still holding you back. 

You sigh, “I don’t know, Matty.”

Matty purses his lips and looks back at the bar as his phone buzzes in his pocket. 

“Not sure what you think could go wrong - he’s definitely not enjoying himself.”

He makes no move to get it, even as it buzzes a few more times. You open your mouth to snarkily respond to his comment, but the short spaces of silence turn into a long, consistent buzzing sound - completely cutting you off.

The sound is beyond irritating, even more so because Matty still chooses to ignore the vibrations in his pocket. “For fucks sake, Matty. Will you answer your damn phone? At least silence it if you aren’t going to respond.”

“I’m sorry, is it bothering you, y/n/n?” Matty gives you a cheeky smile, to which you stare back unamused, as he finally reaches into his pocket.

He pulls his phone out and unlocks it with every intention of just turning off his phone for a bit - that is, until he sees who the messages are from. He pauses to read the incoming texts and lets out a loud chuckle.

“Well then, y/n. I’d consider this a sign if I ever saw one.”

You look at him confused. “What- What are you going on about?”

He simply glances up from his phone smirking and says, “Looks like your loverboy needs saving.” 

He turns the phone around to show you his phone screen where you see 23 messages from George, and you watch as one more comes through that makes you let out a breathy laugh.

Help

Mate seriously

Get me a glass of milk

Asap

Milk me, seriously

Help

Now

Please

At this point come throw a glass of milk on me

So she will fucking fuck the fuck  o f f

Matty I’m spamming you for a reason

I know you’re laughing

Stop it

Can you actually be a good mate for once please

Matty

Matt

MATTHEW

You fuckhead why don’t you have your phone on you

THIS IS WHY HANN IS BETTER THAN YOU. 

I need you to

HELP ME NOW

Cunt. just now

You read over his messages, laughing at the panic that you can practically feel emanating through the phone. “Oh you are absolutely gonna hear it later.”

“Yeah, yeah - I’m very much aware. It’ll be fine, he’s going to like my solution better anyways.” You’re still chuckling at George’s messages and you look back at Matty as he speaks, pulling his phone back. 

“What?” You watch as he quickly types something out, pressing send and putting his phone away. 

You’re still staring at him in confusion while he looks at you expectantly. “Well?” He huffs, “Why are you still sitting here? She’s on your man.”

And you don't have time to overthink what it is that you’re about to do before you stand up.

• • •

Part 2

a/n: Okay, that's it for part 1 of 2 - up next is the fun part and my personal favourite half of the story. I hope you guys enjoyed!! see you same time next week <3 xoxo - K

#its about to get filthy #the 1975 #george daniel #george daniel x reader #george daniel x you #team george #george daniel fic #george daniel smut #george daniel fluff #matty healy #ross macdonald #adam hann #K's 1975

[tillthelandslide]

Lou's Fic Recs (new)

Matty:

piercer Matty! Part 1 & part 2 by @sugar-coat-it

does it matter by @procrastinatinglikeapro

mechanic Matty by @noacfslut

and I'm petrified of being alone, now by @heyidkyay

hot to go @noacfslut

white and gold & the nsfw alphabet by @wreckedandpolemic

George:

dancing like she way out by @toomuchracket

one for the road by @abiiors

night, midnight, lose my mind by @grocerystorelist

car head by @wreckedandpolemic

subby matty by @think0fmehigh

Ross:

bunny by @abiiors

this by @abiiors (anything she writes is gold btw)

pierced by @wrestletotheground

workout ross by @wrestletotheground

the spring curse by @abiiors

new writers ( this is a new thing im doing but everytime i'll be including some new writers -to me, that ive read, that i think you should check out <3 )

@abboutross has some great ross fics and im enjoying her new series anywhere you go

@coucous-ballad posted this recently and i hope she writes more bc i love her

#the 1975 #ross macdonald #matty healy #george daniel #ross macdonald fic rec #matty healy fic rec #george daniel fic rec #ross macdonald x reader #matty healy x reader #george daniel x reader #the 1975 x reader #ross macdonald fic #matty healy fic #george daniel fic #tillthelandslide fic rec #tillthelandslide fic rec : ross macdonald #tillthelandslide fic rec : matty healy #tillthelandslide fic rec : george daniel

[alovesreading]

Nice Kind Of Messy

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

Word Count: 16.7k 

Warnings: smut.

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

Masterlist

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“George, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But despite your words, he stops.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So fucking sweet. He needed more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m fucking you now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckles smugly, “I know you will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

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

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

#george daniel #george #daniel #the 1975 #george the 1975 #george daniel the 1975 #george daniel smut #george daniel fluff #george daniel fic #george daniel fanfiction #george daniel fanfic #george daniel one shot #george daniel blurb #george daniel imagine #george daniel drabble #george daniel x reader #george daniel x you #george daniel x y/n #matty healy #adam hann #ross macdonald

[love4agesss]

bleach. george daniel x reader

synopsis: your life is changing rapidly, all good things— yet you’re feeling behind and lost in life. in an effort to cope, you bleach your hair, with the help of your boyfriend george.

word count: 1,488

warnings: angst?-(not really?) general feelings of feeling lost! perhaps a bit self indulgent!

a/n: this is my first published writing! yay! it’s maybe a bit too wordy but I had too much fun. i saw @bayleequits post that there’s a lack of george fics and angst/fluff and i have to agree! so I’m attempting to rectify that:)

anyway! enjoy! <33333

——————————————————————————

You were being unfair. 

Blaming your own ineptness to cope with change on everything around you, including George, was only making matters worse. What made everything far more confusing and complicated was that these changes were all good. You had just taken a new job offer, one that pays far more than your last job and has flexible hours, and you’ve finally moved in with your boyfriend of two years. Things are looking up, yet you’re feeling lower than you have in months.

After a domestic discussion about your now shared finances turned into an avoidable argument; here you are in the bathroom of your shared house with tears drying down your cheeks. You feel emotional, embarrassed of yourself, and guilty— achingly so.

George has done nothing but love you and welcome you into his home, he has done nothing but share in your success and joy with your new job. It isn’t his fault you’re feeling this way; you just feel off, distant, the changes all overwhelming and hitting at once.

Yet, you still feel the same— like you’re standing still as your life keeps moving around you.

You take in your appearance in the mirror across from you, the light bouncing off of the pale gray bathroom walls making it seem unbearably bright. Your eyes are puffy, your cheeks flushed and tear-stained, your hair a mess.

Your hair, the same length it’s been since you first started at the job you just left— 5 years ago; the hair that’s been through two break ups and the beginnings of your time with George. Never really having changed it, you decide that your hair is one of the small things you could do to change yourself, no matter how surface level that difference really is. 

Ducking down and opening a drawer under the sink, you see a box of cheap hair bleach, unopened and likely being saved for George’s next touch up. He’s always been adamant about doing it himself, using a single gloved hand to smother his scalp with bleach. Lacking sleep and the correct parameters to make a sensible decision, you grab the box and begin to open it, all the while attempting to remember where the hair scissors are. 

You’re so engrossed in your own thoughts that you don’t notice George’s head peeking in through the bathroom door, his deep eyes thoughtful as they watch your hands deftly working to inbox the hair kit.

“D’you want some help?” His tone rumbles this softly, not questioning your actions as he allows you to notice his presence. 

All current thoughts and feelings are replaced by love and guilt as he nears you. You want to apologize for your stubbornness and fighting words, yet all you can do is nod wordlessly and hand him the box. George grants you a soft smile, patting the counter of the sink with his palm as he sets the contents of the box on the closed toilet lid. You watch his sure movements as he mixes the contents into the bowl.

“Where d’you want it?” His eyes rove over your features as he speaks, taking in the emotions staining the face he loves so dearly.

You hadn’t thought about it and you don’t want to commit to your whole head, “Just a strip in the front, could look cool,” the smile you shoot him is weak, barely able to be held up by the weight you feel.

George steps closer, your legs widening instinctively to allow him between; his tall, broad build shadowing over you. The silence between you two is achingly tense as he sections off your hair, tucking what is to be untouched by the bleach behind your ear.

Neither of you know how to approach this, as neither of you can put a name to what is so wrong.

His willingness to aid you after you had been so harsh says a lot about who George is as a person, as a partner. Forgiving, comforting, empathetic, and warm. All traits you continually fall in love with; over and over and over.

Pulling a glove over his hand, he holds the strip of your hair, his right hand using the bleach coated brush to slowly apply it. In languid streaks, he coats the desired section. His sharp features are focused as he gnaws at his bottom lip, careful to not brush anything outside of the given parameters. Silently, he clasps the bleach-drenched hair back, starting a timer on his phone to allow for the chemicals to set in.

Slowly but surely, he looks up from his phone, gaze latching onto your own. Tenderly, he reaches a hand out, the pads of his fingers brushing the apple of your cheek before cupping your face in his large, calloused palm. Brows furrowing, creating a crease in the skin between them, George's eyes fill with concern and with words he’s unsure of speaking aloud.

“What’s going on in this head of yours?” He questions softly, his deep rumble of a voice strained with worry.

You feel a jolt in your chest at his feather light touch, reserved for you; only you. “I– ” you pause, still unsure of how to put this into words, you just don’t know, “I don’t know.” It comes out as a weak croak, reverberating in the small bathroom space. 

“Love, there has to be something. You’ve been on edge all week,” he says with concern brushing across his features, his thumb tracing the dried tear streaks on your cheek. “Is it– are you regretting moving in?” George’s tone is marred with worry, his brows furrowing impossibly further, “I never wanted to push you to move too fast with us, I just– ” 

“God, no. Of course not,” you whisper, cutting him off. “It’s just– I– I feel stuck,” you attempt to explain, “Everything around me is changing so rapidly and life is moving on, but I feel the same. Like my mind is unwilling to adjust to any of this.” 

His hand slips from your cheek to rest upon the crook of your neck, his calloused thumb rubbing soothing circles across your collarbone. It’s one of his favorite places to inhabit; with his face, tender kisses, the point of his nose, or the tip of a finger. 

“D’you need to go back to therapy?” George asks gently, almost with an air of hesitance, as he takes the glove off of his left hand. He knows therapy’s not something that anyone necessarily enjoys; though it has potential to help. 

You’re quick to say no, your head shaking weakly.

“The last thing I want to do is feel like I regressed, George. I’m so tired of feeling like I can't get better. I should be over the moon about moving in and getting a new job– and I am, but it’s like everything I knew is gone for good. The only constant is you, and I keep being an asshole,” you groan into your hand, wiping at your irritated eyes. 

“Darling, stop that, please” George pleads softly, his warm palms engulfing your shoulders in a loving attempt to keep you upright, “I can’t say it’s been easy. I know life hasn’t been as of lately, regardless of how good it’s appearing to be.” 

He’s always been an anchor for you, in all aspects of life. Somehow his warm brown eyes soften even further as he looks to you, to your overwhelming feelings that seem to seep out of every aspect of how you exist lately. You’ve been trudging through the past week, hoping your pathetic attempts at getting better will aid you in escaping your feelings. 

Unfortunately they chase right behind you, biting and gnawing at you. “I know I should go,” you admit in a nearly inaudible breath, “I know I should,” you repeat, more to yourself now as if to convince you that therapy might help. 

“It can only help, yeah?” He murmurs softly, careful to not touch your bleach soaked hair as he pulls you to his chest, “I can drive you, take you for dinner after.” 

You can’t help but smile against his broad chest, your load lightening ever so slightly as you breathe him in, feel his heart beating beneath your cheek. Every steady tap of its rhythm seems to reassure you; ‘it’ll be okay.’ 

“You wanna help me touch mine up?” George asks as he pulls away, hands grazing the side of your arms tenderly. 

“You must really pity me, to let me bleach that special hair of yours,” you tease, sniffing up the last of your emotions. 

“Take it or leave it,” he grumbles, rolling his eyes as a soft smile tugs at his lips. 

You’re quick to take it; quick to grab the bowl of bleach, just as he’s quick to kiss your lips, quick to bend down to your height; always and forever attempting to make life just a bit easier for you.

#george daniel fic #george daniel #george daniel fanfiction #george daniel x reader #george daniel x you #george daniel x y/n #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfiction #matty healy #adam hann #ross macdonald #fanfiction #matty the 1975 #george daniel fluff

[butyou-callmewhenyourebored]

The 1975 Fic Recommendations

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

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

All links straight to the fics are below too! xo

Matty

Ruins by @yourtouchismidas

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

Insufferable Arsehole by @tillthelandslide

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

Soft Sound by @byyourside28

Show Me Yours by @maxverstappensflatbrim

Who can say no to Bridezilla by @heyidkyay

An Encounter by @because-she-goes

Can't Catch a Break by @procrastinatinglikeapro

Haunt by @abiiors

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

George

With a Sea View by @cowboylor

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

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

Dress (Part 2) by @kennedy-brooke

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

Ross

Meet Cute by @cowboylor

Quarter Past Midnight by @alovesreading

You are in Love by @hypersonic04

Ross Series by @hypersonic04

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

Same for You by @tillthelandslide

All of the Ross x Teacher pieces by @hypersonic04

Begging for Trouble by @procrastinatinglikeapro

History and Drama (Part 2) by @writingchalamet

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

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

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

[abiiors]

midnight, car lights 🌃 // george daniel x reader

a/n: a second fic for the george bbf!au that's been plaguing me lately!! (a third one is coming soon). also happy 10 years of self titled <33 i'm scheduling this to come out at midnight uk time tihi

cw: none really, just fluff and flirting. maybe a very tiny age gap?? like 2 ish years

wc: 3.3k

“let’s go on a joyride.”

those words bounce around in your head like the dvd logo, said to you at 11:50 in the night—whisper-shouted would be more accurate. from under your balcony no less, like some fucked up iteration of romeo and juliet. 

so far you have failed to come up with a coherent answer for george who stares up at you expenctantly.

you lean over the railing, your curiosity piqued. "a joyride…” his words repeated back to him in a disbelieving deadpan voice. 

he nods eagerly. in his hands is a tiny heap of small stones—the source of the clinks on your bedroom window that had scared you half to death. when george follows your gaze, he drops the rocks hurriedly, dusting off his hands. 

“it’s a thursday night…” you point out. 

he clicks his tongue. “and you’re clearly not doing anything.”

your eyes narrow at his little jab. sure he’s right but come on now, he didn’t need to point it out like that.

“my brother—”

“is out on his ‘date’.” he makes a little face at that and you stifle the urge to laugh at how icked out he looks. clearly, some more questions that you need to pester matty with. but that’s for tomorrow. right now you raise an eyebrow at the way he cuts you off and finishes your sentences.

“my parents—”

“are asleep!!” his voice acquires a borderline whiny quality. “i checked!” he confirms proudly and before you have the chance to present him with further counterarguments, he throws his hands up in the air. 

“come on, little healy,” george’s grins a feral little grin, “scared you’ll get caught?”

you bite your lip, determined not to let him see your smile. it’s midnight, you’re in your pjs—an old ramones t-shirt and tiny shorts that barely come up to the top of your thighs—your hair is half out of your ponytail. in short, you’re the ugliest you’ve ever looked in front of george. 

meanwhile he looks like he’s just stepped out of an indie rock magazine—black skinny jeans, a black t-shirt that hangs loosely on him and yet somehow fits perfectly and his beloved vans. at this point, you’re sure george could wear just about anything and still look drop-dead gorgeous. 

“only a little drive? i promise i’ll get you back home in one piece.”

truth be told, you had made up your mind the first time he asked. a slow tingle of thrill slithers down your spine. the goody two shoes who’s never even smoked a cigarette before he came into the picture. about to sneak out the window at 11:56 pm. 

“okay,” you mumble to yourself. the small smile you’d tried to stifle escapes anyway. “okay, fine.”

george grins and whoops silently, fists the air in triumph. it does something funny to your stomach–his excitement. 

“hold on a minute,” you tell him before making a mad dash to your wardrobe for an acceptable pair of jeans and a t-shirt. 

the subtle nude lip gloss is inviting but you know it’s too much. he’s probably just bored on a thursday night and has nothing else to do. so begrudgingly you settle on a lip balm and brushing out your hair. 

it’s fine. it’s normal. and anyway, he’s not going to see you as anything more than matty’s little sister, so what’s the point?

another little rock clinks on your window followed by a soft whisper-shout. 

“hurry up!” the clear impatience in his voice makes you giggle but you look at the mirror a final time, smoothing out your unruly hair. this is as best as it gets. 

after all, this is not a date.

“can’t exactly fly out the window, george,” you respond drily as soon as he comes back into view. 

he looks around curiously, toeing the grass and pulling it loose with his shoes. you can practically see the wheels in his head turning, generating ideas that you don’t entirely trust… matty’s friends aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed—not according to you anyway—but once george gets an idea, it is downright impossible to deter him. 

“that looks good enough,” he mumbles but you catch it anyway, catch the spot his eyes are trained on and your stomach plummets about half a foot. 

“have you—have you lost your mind?!” you stifle your screech halfway through, looking at the boy in front of you like he’s grown two heads. 

george shrugs, looking the least bit bothered and points to the pipe next to your window. 

“it’s sturdy, look,” he gives it two firm raps with his knuckles. “and there’s the brick for you to grab onto. and i’ll catch you.”

the last part has your ears perking up. you look at him with a raised eyebrow. it’s only a floor. the ground below you is soft grass that’s regularly mowed and looked after. if you fall, the most that will happen is a bruised ass (and a bruised ego). besides, the alternative is to go your through the front door and risk waking up the whole house. 

“trust me!” he bounces on the balls of his feet, eager and impatient. 

george stuffs his hands in his pockets, veins on his forearms taut with tension. his colourful tattoos are a stark contrast to his all-black outfit. should you trust him? 

“if i fall—”

“you won’t!” he answers confidently. “i’m not going to let you get hurt.”

your heart skips a beat at how soft he sounds, mumbling the sentence more to himself than to you. a shadow of tenderness crosses his features, or maybe you’re just projecting. just a silly little girl with a crush on her brother’s best friend. a cliché. 

“can’t let my best mate’s little sister get hurt,” he clears his throat. and your heart drops in your chest. of course not. to him you are nothing but matty’s sister. ‘little healy’. 

“’course not,” you mutter begrudgingly and grab onto the pipe.

george stands below you, hands raised, neck craning to guide your steps down the exposed brick wall. there’s taking risks and then there’s whatever the fuck this is. regardless, you have put a disturbing amout of faith is george and now there’s nowhere to go but down. literally. 

the last few feet loom between you and the ground. your sweaty palms almost slip and involuntarily a whimper escapes you. 

“almost there, sweetheart,” george murmurs. that word snags in your brain. all thoughts fly away, and before you know it, you’re missing a step, foot slipping on the rough wall. there’s a split second of panic, the beginning of a scream that dies in your throat as soon as you feel a pair of hands around your waist. 

warm, rough hands on soft skin. 

george, holding you up. 

you’re practically pulled flush against his chest, wide-eyed and flushed from the almost fall. funnily enough, the vertigo intensifies the moment you look up into his eyes. they’re just as wide as yours, mouth parted as if he was about to say something. 

for a fleeting instant, time seems to stand still. the world around you fades into a distant blur as you and george remain locked in this suspended moment, bodies pressed close together, his towering over yours. his warm breath tickles your skin, and you can feel the rapid thud of his heart against your chest.

"are you okay?" george's voice is a hushed murmur, his grip on you firm yet gentle.

you manage a shaky nod, finding your voice after a few seconds. "yeah, i... i think so."

george's grip on you doesn't waver as he slowly guides you back onto the solid ground, his hands lingering on your waist for an extra beat before finally releasing you. you take a step back, both to regain your composure and to put some distance between the two of you. 

"thanks," you mumble, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. "i don't know what happened there." you giggle nervously, unable to stare directly into his eyes. 

"no need to thank me,” he smiles, “just glad i was here."

the two of you stand there for a second, the weight of the almost moment hanging in the air. then, as if on cue, george's playful grin returns, diffusing the tension like a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds.

"good to know i can make your heart race like that, little healy," he begins with a teasing glint in his eyes.

despite the heat creeping up your neck, a small laugh escapes your lips, the tension finally breaking as you roll your eyes at his cheeky comment. "you're unbelievable, george."

“right then,” he toes a small pebble, stuffing his hands in his pocket. “shall we?”

his car is cleaner than you expected. 

sure there are some receipts and empty plastic bottles on the floor, even a jacket in the back seat for some inexplicable reasons but it’s nowhere near the pigsty that is your brother’s car. 

“in you go,” he motions, casually holding the door for you. internally you’re grateful that he can’t see your flustered expression. 

it’s a tiny gesture, barely even a gesture really—just a boy opening a car door for you. but he’s not just a boy. he’s george—the boy who makes you mad beyond belief and annoys you with the smallest of efforts. the boy who makes you stumble over your words. the boy who is your brother’s best friend. 

“my my, george,” you tease to cover up your flustered silence, “manners. when did that happen?”

george rolls his eyes as he closes the car door behind you, and you settle into the passenger seat. you notice the faint scent of air freshener, attempting to mask any lingering odors from the cigarettes he no doubt must have smoked earlier. you glance sideways at him when he gets settled in the driver’s seat, unable to hide the hint of a smile playing at the corner of your lips.

"believe it or not," george retorts, putting the car in reverse, "i do have manners sometimes. just don't expect it all the time."

another playful taunt crawls up your throat, about to make it’s way out of your mouth when george casually just does the hottest thing you’ve ever possibly seen. your heart is in your mouth as you try not to stare at his arm behind your headrest. george, oblivious to your freak out, focuses solely on reversing the car from its little hiding spot. his cologne—something warm and smoky—fills the tiny car. a space that is so overwhelmingly him that you have to swallow roughly every couple minutes lest you do something incredibly stupid. 

like grabbing his face and kissing him senseless. 

especially with how inviting his light stubble looks. 

instead, you pointedly stare out the window at the dull grey road beneath you. 

“scared?” he teases, misinterpreting your darting eyes. 

all you can do is shake your head. there’s no way you trust your ability to speak right now, especially as half of your brain is focused on not ogling his arms and hands. 

this was a mistake. this was a stupid, idiotic, avoidable mistake. 

“come on! aren’t you excited to do something reckless for once?”

you are, you really really are. there’s no denying it as the car finally maneuvers out of the parking spot and away from your house. 

you let out a silent sigh of relief. the tension in the air begins to dissipate, and you take the opportunity to relax your grip on the seat. you sneak another glance at george, this time allowing yourself to truly take in his features.

his bleached hair is tousled—just the right amout of effortlessly messy, and his full pink lips only intensify the butterflies in your stomach. george is beautiful—from the way his hands grip the steering wheel with confidence to his jaw that tenses as he focuses on the road. all of it makes your heart race again. you can't deny your silly little crush, can’t deny all the times you have wished george was anyone but matty’s best friend. that you actually had the courage to kiss him. more than that you can’t deny all the times you’ve wished he would kiss you first. 

“where are we going?” you clear your throat, distinctly aware of how breathy you sound. 

george shrugs. “maccies, i think. been really craving some milkshake.”

and then he has the audacity to snicker at your gaping face. “a milkshake…” you trail off, wondering if hitting him on the head would be taking it too far. “sure, good to know i risked my life for your milkshake cravings!”

“pfft,” he blows air, taking his eyes off the road and training them on to you. “admit it, sweetheart, you were ready to, oh what was it? ‘risk your life’ for the thrill of it. don’t lie to me now, i saw it in your eyes.”

there it is again, the little flutter in your ribcage at the s-word. george seems so casual about it too, throwing it around like it doesn’t bother him whatsoever. and maybe it doesn’t, maybe he uses that on every single girl he talks to. the thought curdles in your stomach. 

“fine then,” you huff, turning back to the window.

the mcdonald’s is a flurry of people—drunk and high students looking to satisfy their munchies, homeless people looking for a cheap meal and shelter. exhausted employees handing out orders with a dead expression on their face. you almost feel sad, making them prepare two milkshakes at this ungodly hour. 

you turn to george who is busy studying the menu with the utmost curiosity. 

“strawberry,” he mumbles to himself then turns to you. “or no, wait. banana?”

you quirk an eyebrow. “strawberry is superior.”

“which means that’s what you’re getting,” he replies and goes back to perusing.

“if you think, for even a second, that i would let you steal—”

“so territorial, sweetheart,” he teases, eyes still on the artificially lit board. “fine. two strawberries then.”

george places the orders, giving the cashier his winning smile and handing over some cash. she perks up slightly, eyeing him through her lashes while george leans against the counter. a sudden heat burns through you, wild and unpleasant. 

heartburn, you tell yourself. the milkshake will fix it. 

or maybe not looking at george being flirty would fix it but oh well…

so you turn around, finding yourself an empty seat and leave him to bring over the drinks. 

minutes later, you almost jump out of your skin when george places the cool take-out container against the nape of your neck without warning. 

“real mature, george!” the shriek causes a few people to throw distasteful looks your way but he looks absolutely unbothered and oblivious.

“such a grump,” he snickers and motions for you to follow him. 

armed with your milkshake, you settle in the car once again. the car park is almost dead at this hour of the night and you wait for him to start the car back up, for him to tell you what the next steps are but george only taps tirelessly on the steering wheel. a complete 180 from five minutes ago.

tap. pause. tap tap tap. pause. tap. pause. it’s restless and rhytmless; not like his usual tapping where he’s lost in own tune. his milkshake sits untouched, condensation dripping onto the dashboard. 

you wrap your lips around the straw, sucking on it noisely, sipping on the sweet, cool liquid while you observe him closely. “something’s on your mind.” 

your statement makes him blink. so you’re right then, something is on his mind. he’s more fidgety than usual. in the stillness of the night, his thick swallows and knee jerks are painfully obvious. 

“what’s up…” you trail off, unsure if pushing him would be the right move. 

“there’s this–well. i want to–”

“this is new.” the amount of glee in your voice should be disturbing to you but you can’t contain it. because it is new. 

you’ve seen george be arrogant and annoying, laddish and even on occasion, sweet. but you’ve never seen him be shy before. 

“shut up,” he mutters to himself, then sighs loudly. “okay fine, it’s better if i just show you.”

you follow his movements inquisitively, his imperceptibly shaky hands as he takes out his phone and opens up a non-descript recording titled track 11

his phone screen illuminates his face in the dimly lit car as he hovers over the audio file. the soft glow casts a warm, intimate ambiance, making you acutely aware of how close you are to him in the confined space. your curiosity and anticipation mount as you wonder what he's about to reveal.

"i've been thinking about this for a while now," he clears his throat, finger lowering to finally click on the file. "and i want to share something with you."

at first, nothing happens. all that comes out of the speakers is static and then some more static. but just as you're about to speak, the car is filled with the opening notes of a song—one that instantly tugs at your memory. It's a tune that you have heard before, at different points in time. it's the song that matty’s hummed to you on days you were ill in bed, a song you heard them play at band practice. it’s a song that george and matty laboured over for days. the one that brought you all closer together.

and now it sounds all put together. the final piece of the puzzle locked in.

matty’s voice is stronger than you’ve ever heard, adam’s guitar and ross’ bass sprinkling magic onto it. and then there are the drums—precise and clear and passionate. just like how george drums his fingers on his lap now, matching the beat of the song.   

when the song ends, there's a brief silence in the car. the weight of the notes and the sincerity in his eyes hang in the air, leaving you breathless.

"george," you finally whisper, "that was..."

“we finished it,” he smiles, looking down at his lap. “so we recorded it…”

“it’s…”

there you are once again, at a loss for words. almost certain that there might be actual tears in your eyes. 

“that was…”

“shit? derivative? lousy?” he tries to laugh it off, covering up a vulnerable moment with his jokes but you’d be damned if you let that happen. 

“perfect.” 

the words echoes around the car resoundingly. there’s no challenging your opinion. the song is perfect.

“and you listen to me once and for all george daniel, if you call that song names in front of me one more time, if i hear you call it shit and derivitive and lousy again—”

before you can finish your sentence, george leans forward, crashing his lips onto yours. there’s a crackle of electricity in the air around you, the slowing down of time as if you’re having an out-of-body experience. as if you are a fly on the wall watching two people giving into the magnetic pull between them. but george cups your cheek with his hand and you jolt back into your body. 

his lips are cool from the milkshake but the kiss is searing hot, teeth clashing against teeth. your bodies trying to get as close to each other as possible despite the gearstick between your seats. george tugs on your bottom lip, smiling wide as if he can’t help it—grinning ear to ear.

by the time you pull away, you’re both breathing heavily—practically panting. he doesn’t pull back entirely, instead he keeps his eyes closed and his forehead rested against yours. the grin stays on his face. wide and gorgeous and making him look so boyish. 

“um,” you start and break off into a quick laugh. 

"i've wanted to do that for quite some time now," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

“yeah?” 

“yeah.”

with some hesitation, george lets go of your face, opening his eyes to look at you a second later. 

“damn, sweetheart,” he sighs again, chuckling a little. “this is turning out to be a great joyride, huh…”

lemme know what you think <33

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#disclaimer: i don't own the gifs in the banner. i got them from pinterest so idk who the creators are sadly #they kissed. everyone cheered. #banner by cafekitsune <33 #george daniel #george daniel x reader #george daniel fic #ross macdonald #matty healy #adam hann #the 1975 #george daniel imagine #george daniel the 1975 #george daniel x you #george x reader #george x you #brother's best friend #george daniel fluff #the 1975 fluff #the 1975 rpf #rpf #fluff #fluff writing

[not-alien-girl-v]

Disconnected (Matty Healy)

warning: not smut but it might as well be. mentions of doing the dirty but. it doesn’t happen. you know. also george gets roasted sorry georgenation

note: meow

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

he collapses on top of you, sweat coating his bare skin. a long exhale releases from his lungs as he sinks into your body. you keep your hands on his back, rubbing up and down comfortingly, soothing the angry red marks left by your nails just a few minutes ago.

he hums in contentment and places featherlight kisses to the right side of your neck. you giggle and push him off you.

“what? done with me already?” you don’t say anything, expecting him to just fall asleep like he usually does at the end of your ‘after he gets back from the studio quickie.’ it’s not always like this, your sex life with him, this is just one, predictable aspect of it.

it’s almost like you both know how good he fucks you when you ask for it, that it makes up for all the simple, mundane sex you have most of the time.

suddenly, he turns to his side, propping his head up on his hand, and his silent stare is harrowing. “yes?” you ask him, wishing you could read his mind. sometimes you swear he can read yours.

“can i ask you something?” he doesn’t meet your eyes when he says this, and you can only assume the worst.

1. would you still love me if i was gay?

2. will you help me bury the body?

3. when i die of terminal cancer, will you promise not to remarry?

you’ve just been staring at him staring at the crisp white bedsheets and when he looks into your eyes, you are reminded that he can’t actually read your mind, and your attempts at telepathic communication are feeble.

“sure, baby.”

“ok. i’m gonna ask you, and no matter what your answer is, i promise i won’t get mad. you hear me?”

“yes?”

he reaches out to grab your arm, “i mean it, i won’t get mad, i’m just genuinely curious, i’m not fishing for a compliment or anything, i just really want to know.”

what on earth is he on about?

“just ask your question.”

he sighs again. “who’s the best man you’ve ever hooked up with?”

you close your eyes in a mix of both confusion and a bit of disappointment. “like… character-wise or sex-wise?”

“sex-wise.”

you nod, about to say something.

he doesn’t let you.

“i bet it was george, wasn’t it. i’m sure of it. god, when you two hooked up, he was in his prime. i mean, not that he isn’t fit now, i’m sure he still fucks, but back then… i bet he knew what he was doing. how was it with him? be honest, i won’t be upset.”

you just smile silently as he can never shut his big mouth. “that’s pretty gay.”

he chuckles at your response, still egging you on for a real response. “come on, he’s a drummer, so obviously, he’s got rhythm, and he’s a very big boy, so you know he’s got the size.”

you reach forward to brush a stray curl behind his ear, enjoying his beautiful tranquility for as long as you can, because you know he will inevitably get riled up the more this conversation continues.

“i’m starting to think you just want to hear about what it’d be like to fuck your friends,” you brush your fingers through his hair continuously, and he closes his eyes, nearly forgetting about your conversation.

“you’re changing the subject darling,” he leans into your touch.

“so you’re saying you don’t want to know? what it would be like?”

he opens his eyes, “of course i want to know! we’re all straight men in committed relationships to beautiful women, i may never get the experience.”

you rest your hand on the edge of his face, rubbing his temple in circles with your thumb. “you know, if you ever wanted to fuck any of them, i think i’d let you. it’s only fair, since me and george, you know.”

“it wouldn’t be the same, though, because when you and him fucked, we weren’t together yet, i hadn’t told you i liked you. it would mean too much if i shagged my mates now since you and i are you know… whatever.”

you gasp in amusement, “did you really just refer to our relationship as whatever?”

he pouts, but you know he’s laughing on the inside. “i’m sorry.”

“it’s fine, i guess.”

“wait, you never answered my question!”

“alright. i’ll get into it. you ready?” he nods, looking more prepared than you are for what’s to come. “george was… i mean… it was good. to somebody else, maybe it was great. but to me? i don’t know, we just didn’t mix well together.”

“what d’you mean, baby?”

“like, okay, you look at a guy like that, you assume a certain thing from him while fucking. like you go into doing it with a level of expectations, somewhat high, and he just didn’t meet them.”

“can you be a little more vague? i think i’m almost understanding you, god forbid that happen.”

“fine, fine. truth is, he was too gentle. like you said, he’s a drummer, he’s super muscular, and he’s huge, you expect him to give a rough fucking or even something adjacent to it, and like, i mean, i’m a big girl, i can take it, but every 5 minutes was like ‘are you okay?’ ‘is this too much’ ‘do you need me to stop?’ you’d have thought he was a virgin the way he was so awkward and nervous and gentle. it was weird.”

“that is weird. i never thought that’s how it would be with him.”

“did i ruin the magic for you? now that you know fucking your best friend would be underwhelming?”

“it wasn’t magic, more morbid curiosity,” he speaks.

“morbid? it’s not like we’re talking about fucking a dead body, it’s just george.”

“agree to disagree, my love.” he gets up, butt ass naked, and pulls on some clean boxers from his closet. then, he stops in his tracks, and turns around to face you again. “wait, answer the question, for real this time. i won’t be mad.”

“it’s you.” you speak it plain, simple, and true. you wonder why he even debated the question.

“really?”

“really. it’s always been you.”

“aw, that’s so sweet. just don’t go getting feelings for me, i’m a lone wolf, don’t do relationships,” he warns as he walks out of his room, heading to his kitchen.

the irony hits you as heavy as the new engagement ring on your finger he presented to you a week ago. you laugh to yourself, feeling smitten.

he returns in a moment with a glass of water and sets it down on the nightstand next to where you lay. “drink, darling”

you obey, giving him a look over the rim of the cold glass as it rests against your kiss-swollen lips. you swallow, “you’re being pretty sweet to me, for a ‘lone wolf.’”

he smiles, enjoying the near endless banter between the two of you. “every alpha needs their omega.”

“ew, that’s gross, get out of here, you freak!” you gently nudge him off of the side of the bed where he sits.

he gives you his classic dumb smile as he leaves the room with the now empty glass of water, likely returning it to the dishwasher.

when he gets back, you can’t help but continue his dumb conversation. “i think i’m the alpha in this relationship, anyway. you’re my bitch.”

he nods in agreement, “i’m your bitch.”

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

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[heyidkyay]

I guess I'll take this pain, instead of your name | Before we grew up

A/N: Hey! Back with another addition to the George and Birdie universe since it was so well loved!! Honestly, the whole thing still surprises me and the fact that some of you wanted more of them actually made my heart hurt!! But I've missed them and writing this brought me a whole lot of joy, so I hope you enjoy! If this does well or it’s wanted I might write a few more like this sooo let me know x

Flashback moments | 'Before we grew up'.

“Okay, so when you’re ready just let go of the brake.”

I blinked, holding the steering wheel with an undeniable grip. “Right.” I murmured but didn’t make a move to follow the words.

George, whose brilliant idea this had all been, sat in the passenger seat of his dad’s Volkswagen, buckled in and attempting to exude an air of calm I really didn’t feel.

“You gonna let go?” He asked me after a long minute passed.

I swallowed thickly and removed my stare from where it’d been burning a hole in the windscreen so that I could look over at him. “How do I know when I’m ready?” I asked him and really didn’t appreciate the laugh he gave in return. I scowled. “What’s so funny about this? It’s a valid question!”

George just shook his head and exhaled breathily, obviously trying his best to dim the amused smile he now wore, “Honestly B, you’re just overthinking this and besides, you have it easy. It’s an automatic, barely have to do a thing.”

My scowl deepened. “Barely ‘ave to do a fing.” I mimicked in an accent similar to his deep drawl, it was his turn to frown then. I merely smiled sweetly.

“I’mma ignore that for now, ‘cause you’re a twat.” George retorted, “But also ‘cause I need to get the car back before dad notices it’s gone. So, can we get a move on?”

I inhaled deeply and fought off a whine that wanted to escape me- who the fuck said driving was easy?

“G, I’m being dead serious right now.”

He simply snorted, humoured by my anxieties, “I know, babe, and you’re doing so well.” I raised a brow at that and he smiled, “What? You are! You’ve turned the thing on, ain’t you?”

I took a hand off the wheel just to swat him, “Hilarious.” Before I was gripping it again once more, “Come on, just give me a count down or summat.” 

G shook his head and looked towards the sky, as though anyone up there cared for the likes of us, then he sighed, “Fine, on three yeah? Then you let go of the brake and go.”

“On three.” I agreed with a nod, though it sounded breathy even to my own ears.

George reached out a hand to squeeze my thigh, probably in hopes to spur some proper motivation into me but all it did was make me think back to the previous evening when he’d had a free house. I shook my head, along with the thoughts of his hands and his lips, and settled into my seat with a newfound determination as I looked out onto the road.

It wasn’t as though it was anything too terrifying, I didn’t even have to bare left or right, just keep going straight. But still, I had the horrible feeling that this would be the thing that would seal my fate- imminently, or when George’s dad finally got home to find that his car had a barge pole sticking out of its front. 

I released a shaky breath.

“Okay- one, two…”

And on three I finally let my foot slip away from the pedal, screaming a little to myself as the car began to roll.

“Yes, Birdie!” George grinned over at me, bouncing in his seat as he moved, “Now the accelerator.”

I laughed stiltedly, eyes wide as I pressed down on the other pedal, feeling the car bob at the sudden pressure.

“Easy.” George corrected but he was still smiling away, hand tapping at my leg. “Good girl. See? You’re doing it!”

And I was. I really was.

“Oh shit- break, break!” He then shouted out and I slammed on the brake pedal hard enough to have us both jerking forward in our seats, though the cat that was crossing the road continued in its languid stroll, barely even sparing us a glance.

It was after that I let go of the jittery excitement I felt, heart beating a mile a minute and my grin kilowatt. “Fuck.” I giggled, then glanced over to my left. G seemed to follow the former motion, chuckling to himself whilst we sat in the middle of a side road full of dimmed townhouses. “I wanna go again.” I told him. 

He snorted, shaking his head and grinning. “Thought you were shitting yourself a second ago?”

I shrugged, not caring in the slightest how much truth his statement held. “Can we?”

G huffed another chuckle but ultimately dipped his head, “Go on then, when we get to the garages I’ll walk you through parking.”

“Alright, but only if I can do a doughnut or somethin’ first.” I countered, like I had any authority here. But George just laughed and said nothing more whilst I went to pull away from a stop once more.

–

Christmas was always a hectic time of year. No one could deny me that. But since my dad’s passing, it had become a holiday that always came too quickly and dragged on for too long. This year though, this year was gonna be different.

See, I’d been living at Matty’s since the summer after the ‘incident’ as I liked to call it- everyone else seemed to roll their eyes at the name though. And whilst staying with them I'd come to realise a few things about myself.

Firstly, I loved all kinds of food.

Sure a strange thing to find out at my age, but I had an excuse! Alright? Staying with mum I’d pretty much had to feed myself and with money so scarce we’d only ever really had enough for the basics, or at least I did. Most of mum’s boyfriends had practically kept the food they liked under lock and key, even though nine times out of ten they hadn't been the ones to buy it. And so, this meant that I hadn’t had much opportunity to branch out, to get a feel for anything that wasn't canned, bagged, or frozen.

Secondly, I had a tad bit of childhood trauma lagging behind me. Most of which I’ll spare you the intimate details from, but that had an impact on the things I did even when I felt safe. Like, I hated not knowing if there was someone new stopping at the house, made me feel all itchy in truth. And the way I went out of my way to make sure I’d locked everything was a bit much; windows, my bedroom door, the backdoor, the front door, the bathroom door, the side gate. At one point I’d been stressing over the front entrance late at night but had felt too stupid to go and make a check to see if it was in fact closed, which had resulted in me waking Matty up to help me deal with a panic attack.

And thirdly, I had no idea how normal people spent Christmas.

This came to light when I’d all but baulked at the many traditions not just Matty and his family had, but also the rest of the lads. 

Ross and his lot often ate their Christmas roast at lunch time then went out for a chinese later on that night. How they had the room for it, I have no idea. Hann, on the other hand, was dragged back and forth between all of his family members on the twenty-sixth instead of the fifth, due to extended family coming to visit from all other parts of the country. 

Denise had a list of things she loved to do this time of year.

She’d set up a nativity outside, alongside the rest of the lights and usual decorations for the neighbours to come see. She ordered a real fur tree and then sent the boys out to go collect it with their dad once the day came. It was humongous and dropped needles everywhere, but was oh so beautiful. They always decorated it as a family, taking turns to put the topper on and finding the best branches to place sentimental ornaments. Stockings were hung by the fireplace with initials hand stitched on. And chefs typically came to cater Christmas day.

Gifts were also a big thing.

A very BIG thing.

As in, they were all so lovely and thoughtful to the point that Matty and his younger brother would have an actual meeting over what to get their mum and dad- which had melted my fucking heart, because what?

This year, I’d been forced upon them. But instead of making me feel like an intruder, they did what they always did and made me feel like one of their own.

“Love, will you get that for us?” Denise called out to me just as the doorbell went, “It’ll only be the postman.”

I smiled and nodded, happy to be of some help whilst she sent herself into a tizzy over tinsel. There’d been many deliveries as of late, so I was pretty much used to adding to the post-pile that was going on in the downstairs office.

Wandering out of the kitchen I padded over to the front door, opening it only to find that the postman wasn't there at all.

I blinked stupidly at the sight I was met with, a bright pink cab had taken over the majority of Denise’s driveway and getting out of the backseat was only my Nana.

The door handle fell from my grasp as I stepped forward on instinct, unsure of what the hell was even happening. “Nana?”

The older woman smiled over at me, eyes twinkling with mirth. Then a voice shouted out and I spotted a head of bright red curls fly out from behind the car’s boot to greet me, “Aunt Del too, Dove!”

“What?” I muttered, still so bewildered, but then I caught sight of another familiar face, a face that I didn’t think I'd be seeing until tomorrow. “Did you do this?”

George just chuckled softly, stepping closer to help my Nana over the gravel walkway, but he wasn’t the one who replied to my question. “Came down to fetch us, din’t he?” Nana replied in his stead, stretching a hand out once she got close enough, I blinked again and hurried to take it.

“He did?” I heard myself murmur, still so in shock. Practically rocking with the explosion of it.

Nana gave a sweet laugh, wrapping me up in a much needed hug and pressing a gentle kiss to my head before she pulled away, “Phoned us up a bit ago, wanted to surprise ya, darlin’.”

“Well, God. I’m surprised, that’s for sure.”

They all laughed, probably at the expression cast over my mug, but I couldn’t find it in me to even rebuke them. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

“Best believe it, doll.” Aunt Del replied, smiling over at me whilst she and George trailed the bags they’d seemingly brought with them up onto the front step. “Our Georgie here went an’ planned it all, picked him up from the train station this morning.”

I let Del tackle me into another tight hug, allowing her to pepper me with a barrel full of kisses. All the while it seemed that Denise and Matty had come out to see what all the fuss was about, only- they didn’t look shocked at all.

“Surprise?” Denise sang out when she caught my gawping, waving a hand out from where she stood in the doorway.

“Did you all know?” I asked, my mind racing to catch up with the situation at hand. “How- I- This is so mad.”

Matty snorted at my crappy attempt at a sentence but I watched as he made his way on over, his mum just behind, so that they could introduce themselves. “All G’s idea, mate. Knew you were missing them and so, yeah we made this happen.”

“I can’t- just, wow.” Then I glanced over to where the one person that currently meant so much to me stood on the outskirts simply watching on. He glanced back.

“Merry Christmas, B.” George said, grinning slightly over at me, obviously pleased with my stuttering reaction.

I released the heavy breath I hadn’t even realised I'd been holding and strode over towards him, he caught me in his arms and held me with a prominent strength I didn’t know he had.

“Thank you.” I whispered once I felt as though I could, tears threatening to fall at the sincerity of it all. Never had I ever been so surprised. “Thank you.” I repeated and pressed a light kiss to the skin of his neck that was hiding behind the collar of his shirt and other many layers.

George squeezed me a little closer, then rocked us back and forth. When I finally pulled away I peered up at him with wet eyes and the brightest smile.

“I can’t believe you got away with all this.”

He laughed, but not his typical kind, no, this one was loud and carefree. Honest.

“Is that all you really care about?” He asked me, teasing, hands now at my hips.

I grinned upwards, “‘Course, can’t believe you did all this under my nose!”

Turning back towards the crowd that had gathered by the door, George’s arm fell to a loose hold on my waist and we made our way back over. Denise was already chatting away with Aunt Del and Nana had somehow roped Matty into an explanation about the band and the few stories she’d heard through G and I during our catchup calls.

At that moment, my heart had never felt so full. In fact, I don’t know how any other Christmas could top it.

–

It had been a lovely day. The most amazing time, actually.

It still felt so unreal to look over and spot Denise in her wedding gown, all happy and glowing. In Portugal of all places, too! Matty was currently off trying to get with one of the many girls attending his mum’s reception, whilst his younger brother, Lou, tested his charm on a couple of the older folk in an attempt to make a bit of money, everyone else seemed fine to just putter about from table to table.

It had started to spit a little while ago, summer rain they’d said, and so I was the only one still standing out in the garden now, the rest of the party somewhere inside the villa or over at the gazebo. My bridesmaid dress was speckled with tiny water droplets that shimmered in the late setting sun but nothing too heavy. The rain here was almost a total contrast to that back home. 

“There you are.” I heard someone say just as a pair of hands came to wind themselves around my waist, I leant back in their hold, smiling at the familiarity. “Thought you’d done a runner.”

“Nah, just enjoying the last of the sun.” I hummed, intertwining my fingers with his atop my stomach.

“As well as the rain.” George added with a light chuckle, but he didn’t seem to mind it much either. I nodded lightly, then felt him tuck my head under his chin. “Ross is sloshed.” He told me.

“Already?” I asked around a soft laugh, he hummed. “Lightweight.”

The noise from the party seemed to trickle out to greet us, but no one else seemed to want to step out into the rain. Content with the warmth inside.

“You havin’ a good time?”

I smiled at the question as well as the thumb that soothed the back of my hand. “The best.” I told him honestly, “It’s all been so lovely. Reckon I’d want something like this, you know.”

George was quiet for a long second before he spoke again, “Thought you didn’t want to be tied down. As free as a bird and all that.”

Chuckling, I shrugged a single shoulder. “Dunno. Seems cool, plus you get all that cake.”

An ugly snort escaped George at that, “Only in it for the cake then, I ‘spose.”

With a grin I tilted my head back so that he could see me, “Always!”

He narrowed his eyes down at me, eyelashes fanning the skin beneath them, then tugged me in a bit tighter, “You’re a right menace, you know that?” He murmured against the jut of my collar. I squirmed slightly in his hold, his breath tickling my neck.

“I guess it’d be nice to have a big party too.” I tacked on, if only to tease him further. And it appeared to work too, because he spun me around in his arms and I laughed at the unexpectedness of it.

The rain started to come down a little harder then, but I could hardly feel it with the weight of his gaze on me and the beam of the sun. An old Billy Idol song echoed out into the courtyard from the main room and George grinned at the sound, a favourite. “Fancy a dance?”

“What, back in there?” I wondered, not really all that up for being back amongst everyone else just yet.

George just shook his head though, as if reading my mind, and then dragged me further out onto the grass where the dampness which clung to the clipped stems soaked my feet.

He started to sway then, in time to the beat of Eyes Without A Face.

“Didn’t think you even could dance.” I murmured to him, then giggled as he spun me out, raindrops flicking up the backs of my legs before roping me back in.

“Full of surprises, me.” He quipped before dipping me into an exaggerated bend.

I gasped, unable to help myself, then shook my head, hair falling with it. “Warn me next time.”

George just grinned, eyes squinting with the power of it, then pulled me in closer, chest to chest now. His hands on my back, mine wrapped behind his neck. “Would make things boring, wouldn’t it?”

“What’s so bad about boring?” I shot back.

He huffed, the force of it fluttering my dampening hair and catching on the shell of my ear. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” He assured me and I heard more than saw his smile.

Pleased, I hummed, loosening my hold on him so that I could rest my head against his shoulder and close my eyes. The rain continued to fall on and around us, neither George nor I caring for the way it clung to every available inch of our skin.

“I love you.” I heard him mutter above me, so softly I hardly even felt it resonate in his chest.

I turned to glance up at him again at that, eyes trailing across every inch of his face, taking in every detail he had to offer. “How do you know? For sure?” I questioned him in a faint whisper even though there wasn't another soul about to hear. I was still smiling away, only it was ever so soft, so warm.

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, “I know I love you because even on my worst days you’re all that gets through. There’s no pretending with us, you know every inch of me, the good, the bad, and still, you choose to stay. So I’ll love you today, and then tomorrow. I’ll love you til the day I die, and if there’s life after that, I'll love you then too.”

My eyes watered at the hit of his words, having expected something stupid like ‘you give good head’, or something as simple as ‘I just do’. 

“You always manage to surprise me, you know that?” I chuckled quietly, fingers threading through the length of his hair.

George lifted his brows in turn and so I just smiled, humming as I coaxed him closer so that I could finally lean in for a kiss.

“I love you.” I repeated his earlier words once we parted, laughing loudly when he swept me up off my feet and around in a circle.

“You’d better.” He quipped straight back, laughing now too before he slipped on the damp grass beneath us and sent us both sailing to the ground.

“George!”

But he continued to just chuckle away, eyes bright and beaming. God, I thought, I was so, so gone.

#the 1975 #george daniel #fic #i guess i’ll take this pain fic #the 1975 band #matty healy #fluff #x reader #ross macdonald #adam hann #birdie #birdie and G #heyidkyay #george daniel x reader #george daniel the 1975 #george daniel fic

[toomuchracket]

love potion (sweetheart!george x reader fluff)

george's gf gets a new perfume and he's obsessed. short and sweet. day 2 of valentine's week. enjoy <3

you drop your bag onto the desk before you slide into your seat. yawning, you pull your textbooks and pencil case from the bag, taking out a pen and tapping it against the front of your exercise book while you wait for the rest of the class and the teacher to file in.

well, while you wait for one specific person to walk in. it doesn't turn out to be a long one, though; luckily - and characteristically, you suppose - he's on time.

“i recognise that rhythm, you little thief,” george's smile is audible as he walks behind you to get to his own seat, and a big one appears on your own face at the sound of his voice. he winks at you as he stands and pulls his books from his bag, and you can't help but grin. “sorry for making you sit through band practice for so long on saturday that you memorised my drum part, baby.”

“s'ok. i like watching you play,” you turn in your chair as george sits next to you, leaning on the back of your seat and looking adoringly at him. “i think it's hot.”

your boyfriend smirks at you, shuffling his chair closer to yours and slinging an arm around your shoulders. “i think you're hot. morning, angel,” he leans in to kiss your cheek, but snaps back to look at you almost as soon as his lips meet your skin, eyes wide. “what is that?”

“what's what? have i gone patchy?” your brow furrows, and you rifle in your blazer pocket for the compact mirror you know you picked up before you left for school. strange - you thought you'd done a decent job with your makeup, for a monday morning. “seriously, g, is there something weird going on with my face? tell me, please.”

he doesn't answer, just closes his eyes slowly and lightly nods the way he does when he's processing.

it makes you panic. “george!”

your boyfriend jumps. “hmm? nah, you're gorgeous. sorry, angel, what i mean is… what's that smell?” george practically shoves his whole face into your neck and inhales deeply. you giggle, slightly nervous of being caught engaging in pda, and gently shove him off you; he sits back and smiles at you, eyes dazed. “did you get new perfume, or something?”

“oh,” you touch your neck almost self-consciously, nails grazing the pulse point you'd spritzed onto just under an hour ago. “yeah, when i went into manchester with mum yesterday. gucci.”

“ooh, posh,” he smirks, laughing when you elbow him and leaning back in his seat quite attractively. “smells amazing, though. i really like it.”

“yeah?”

george nods. “yeah,” he sits up again, nuzzling into you and inhaling the fragrance a second time. “gonna stay like this for the rest of the day, thanks. maybe for the rest of time, in fact.”

you giggle. “you're an idiot, babe.”

“only cos you're irresistible,” george takes a final sniff of your perfume before moving to sit properly. “you and that perfume. gonna be a struggle keeping my hands off you all day.”

“nah,” you ruffle his hair. “ the novelty'll wear off soon. you’ll be fine.”

oh, how wrong you are.

that first class - the only one you actually have with george today - is fine, albeit your boyfriend constantly leaning closer to you “just so i can see the board without that guy’s massive head in the way, babe”, despite him never having complained about an obstructed view before. you don't say anything, just nod and bite back your grin and do your best to focus on your work; easier said than done, when george’s lips are only inches from your own. if you just turned your head…

jesus. what is up with the two of you?

he does kiss you, though, when the bell rings at the end of class. that in itself isn't unusual - despite your aversion to pda, you know everyone's too busy rushing to shove everything back in their schoolbags and make it to next period to be looking at you and george - but you do let yourself linger against his lips for a little bit longer than usual before pulling away. 

actually, it's george who breaks the kiss first. “you're trying to kill me, aren't you?” he breathes, helping you up from your seat and wrapping you into a hug. “wearing that perfume, kissing me like that. and here i thought you were a nice girl.”

you laugh, leading him towards the door. “well, babe, you know what they say - always the quiet ones.”

“yeah,” george hugs you again when you reach the corridor; you giggle when he, yet again, deliberately takes a breath of your perfume. “see you later, angel. don't miss me too much.”

“i should be saying that to you!” you scoff, ruffling his hair. “bye, baby.”

you pass your boyfriend again an hour later, on opposite sides of the art corridor. a cheeky grin appears on his face when he spots you from a few feet away, and judging by the warmth in your cheeks you reckon there's a flush forming on yours. it's busy, two parallel currents of people coursing up and down to their respective next classes, but george still takes a second to lean over and kiss your head when you get near enough to each other. “you smell amazing!” he shouts, as you separate again.

“oh my god, stop it!” you call back, elbowing your suddenly-hysterical friends and turning to walk even faster towards the languages department. george’s laugh is audible, even as you move; he shuts up abruptly, though, and you hear (in quick succession) a bashing noise, your friends’ giggles turning to gasps, and the stern voice of the head of art. you're too far away to hear what she’s saying, but it can't be anything good. you wince. “someone tell me what just happened. i can't look.”

“i think,” jodie's shoulders are shaking, a telltale sign of her trying to keep from laughing. “george might have just walked straight into the door because he was too distracted by you, and miss malone's giving him shit for it.”

“what?!”

“and yet,” saira smirks. “he's still trying to look back at you.”

you shake your head, trying your best not to smile. “idiot boy.”

and you're sure to call george that to his only slightly bruised face at 3pm, when he swans out of the music corridor doors towards you, waiting with folded arms, cocked hip, and knowing smirk. you pull him into a hug. “i can't believe you walked into a fucking door.”

“don't you fucking start,” george groans, doing his best to lean down and hide his face in your hair for a second, before leading you towards the gates. “s'your fault i did it, anyway. and also that i fucked up in double music.”

“oh, piss off, it was not my- wait,” you stop dead in your tracks, turning round to gawk at your boyfriend. “did you just say you fucked up in music?”

he frowns, only speeding up his walking to the point he's less holding your hand than dragging you behind him down the street. your jaw drops. “you fucked up in music. you? george daniel? you fucked up?”

“if you mention it to literally anyone, i'm never giving you a lift anywhere ever again.”

you kiss his cheek. “alright. i'm sorry, baby. but… how?”

george sighs. “kept falling out of time because i got distracted thinking about your new perfume.”

“you being serious?”

“dead,” he nods. a tiny smile appears on his pretty face. “teacher kept asking me if i was ill. that's how bad it was.”

“oh my god,” you sling his arm over your shoulder, looking up at him with a grin. “maybe you are. maybe you're having some weird allergic reaction to it, and it's giving you brain fog.”

“but then why would i want to keep snuggling with you?”

you shrug. “seeking comfort because you're poorly? i don't know.”

“hmm, you could be right. maybe i am ill,” george ponders. without warning, he turns you in towards him and begins pressing kisses all over your face and making you giggle. “i think i'm lovesick.”

you shove your bag further up your shoulder and wrap your arms around george's neck. “god, how awful. what's the cure?” you sigh dramatically.

he grins, one of the shit-eating variety. “a snog from my girl.”

“oh, i think we can manage that,” you lean up on your tiptoes and press your lips to your boyfriend's, sighing into his mouth when his tongue traces your lower lip. george’s kisses always leave you dazed, and this is no exception - he has to hold your hips to keep you from wobbling too much when you break apart, breathing heavily. “wow. you cured?”

“nah, think i need a second dose when we get back to mine,” george smiles. “once my homework's done, that is.”

your eyes widen. “ok, maybe you are actually genuinely ill.”

“i'm serious!” george tugs you onto his street. “get all the distractions out the way first, so i can focus on what really matters: snogging you.”

“right,” you nod, biting your lip so you don't laugh, as george digs around his pockets for his house key. he kisses your cheek as he ushers you inside, and you preen at the sweet gesture. “well, we'll see how much we get done, babe.”

“all of it. i'm determined. even chemistry.”

you kiss his head as he bends to unlace his shoes, unconvinced he’ll have the willpower. “sure, sweetheart, whatever you say.”

for the second time in a day, though, you're proven wrong. george powers through his work in a couple of hours, sliding everything off his bed once he's finished with the most smug face you think you've ever seen. “time for my lovesick meds, i think.”

“alright. but you better not be thinking about me in one of those slutty nurse halloween costumes,” you say, getting up from the bed to grab something from your bag.

there's a muffled noise from behind you, which you figure is george face-planting into a pillow. “well, i am now,” he sighs, leaning round to look at you, and sits bolt upright when he sees you spritzing perfume onto your wrists and neck. “is that…?”

“it is,” you wander back over to the bed, climbing onto your boyfriend's lap and resting your arms on his shoulders. his make do with rubbing your thighs through your tights. “your favourite.”

george smiles. “nah,” before you can even react, he flips the two of you so you're lying beneath him. “you're my favourite. i love you.”

“i love you,” you pout your lips, and george takes the hint. he kisses you, long and slow and sloppy, teeth pulling at each other's lips, tongues licking into each other's mouths, hands trailing and cupping and squeezing and caressing, brains getting hazier by the second as the oxygen leaves and the dopamine sets in. you gasp when you feel his lips move across your jaw and down your neck, pressing soft kisses before settling on a recently-discovered spot that drives you mad, while his deft fingers work to remove your tie and unbutton the top buttons of your blouse - he pulls the fabric aside slightly and continues to trail kisses down, soaking up the drip trail of your perfume and gently biting when he reaches the edge of your bra. softly moaning, you card your fingers through his hair. “george.”

quick as a flash, he's hovering over you again, stroking your cheek. “you alright, angel? is there something you want?”

“yeah,” you breathe, twisting to kiss the tip of his thumb - and savouring the way his breath catches in his throat - before smiling your sexiest smile. “close the door.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #valentine75 #george daniel fanfiction #george daniel fic #george daniel fanfic #george daniel x reader #george x reader #george daniel fluff #sweetheart!george

[kennedy-brooke]

Dress pt. 2

George Daniel x (Fem)Reader

Summary: You’ve been best friends with George Daniel for as long as you can remember, but your relationship has always suggested something more. The pining and waiting quickly becomes too much to handle, and you finally decide that something has to be done. A night out with your friends is the perfect excuse for you to wear the dress you bought, with the only intention of having him take it off.

Part 1

heavily based on the song dress by taylor swift

Word Count: 14.4k

a/n: hello again, lovely people - it's here!! The second half is all yours. i know it's much longer than part 1, but this is without a doubt my favourite part and im so excited for you all to read it. WARNING!!! there is heavy smut in this part!! 18+ MDI im not joking. I feel like i need to drown myself in holy water after this one - its complete and utter filth for 3.6k words and I have no idea where it came from. i hope you very thoroughly enjoy it!! mwah xxx

He is miserable. 

Completely and utterly miserable. 

George had come in with the rest of the band and made his way to the bar, making sure to sit in a spot with a clear view of the club’s entrance. 

He’d hoped to catch you as soon as you walked in, so he made himself comfortable, ordered a drink, and pretended like he wasn’t watching the door. 

But then this girl came along - he couldn’t remember her name if he tried - and sat next to him, fully blocking his once clear line of sight to the door you would be walking through any minute. 

She had immediately sat down and started talking, laying the flirting on thick and trying to get his attention - it just hasn’t been working. 

It isn’t her fault; she’s not awful to look at and he’s sure that she is probably a really nice girl - but she just isn’t you. 

You, his best friend, his Darling, who he is absolutely completely in love with. 

He’s felt this way for a while now, it’s not exactly anything new, but it’s been recently that George has actually come to terms with all of it. 

He loves you. Loves your laugh and the way you don’t hesitate to quip back at Matty. Loves your smile and the way it lights up the room. He loves the way you play with the rings on his hands, which is the reason he started wearing them in the first place - though if you asked him he would wholeheartedly deny it. 

George is in love and all he really wants is to see you. It’s been two very long months without your presence and it was during that time that he came to the conclusion that he had to do something. He has to tell you. 

His feelings are inescapable, and at this point he isn’t even going to try pretending that he saw you as just a best friend. 

The longing George felt over tour made him decide to fully fuck the consequences - he is going to tell you how he feels, because he has never felt this way about anyone before. And if, by some chance, he’s read the situation wrong and he gets burned? At least he was electrified. 

He had wanted to be there to greet you when you got here, which is why he sat at the bar in the first place. 

But this girl. She just showed up and will not leave. 

He doesn’t want to be a dick and just leave her by herself, but she just keeps talking. She’s flirting, and he’s not showing any interest, yet she still keeps going. He’s not even attempting to listen to her right now, too busy trying to see around her head and catch a glimpse of the door, but she isn’t taking a single hint. 

She keeps going on about the band, talking as if she’s everyone’s best mate and has known them for ages - even though George swears he’s never seen her before in his life. 

It's in the middle of his internal monologue and declaration of love that she directs a question at him that he actually has to answer, effectively breaking him out of his head. 

“Oh my god, do you remember?”

He blinks at her, “Remember what?”

She giggles, leaning forward and laying her hand on his forearm for the third time tonight. 

“Silly- remember that time when Matty completely fell over and Adam rolled his eyes at his antics and Ross turned around to laugh with John - while you just sat there at your set looking all stoic?”

He sighs before dryly remarking, “Which time?”

At his response, which was obviously sarcastic and did little to hide his annoyance, she lets out a loud, witch-like cackle. She clutches her chest and laughs like it was the funniest comment in the world - it wasn’t. 

George’s eyes go wide, watching in horror as she tries and fails to stop fake laughing. She leans forward as if she’s attempting to catch her breath, and reaches her hand out to grab onto his.

As soon as he catches on to what she’s going for, he moves both of his hands out of her reach - opting to tightly hold on to his glass instead. She, however, doesn’t take the hint and simply places her hand on his thigh.

George physically cringes and looks pointedly at her hand as he shifts his legs away from her.

Her eyes briefly flash with annoyance before she quickly covers it with a smile and reaches to take another sip of her drink.

George takes the moment of her distraction to try and see around her head, hoping to see you come in and have a valid reason to excuse himself. He genuinely doesn’t want to be rude - but she’s getting to be a bit much now.

As if she’s able to read George’s mind and has decided to amp it up even more, the girl reaches out again, for the fifth time, and flirtingly places her hand on George’s bicep… again.

George tenses his muscle immediately, unable to hide the physical reaction to her unwanted touch, but she seems to take it a different way.

She gasps, fucking full-on gasps, and squeezes his arm. “Oh my gosh, George, your muscles have gotten so big! You must be so strong-”

His eyes widen. “I’m sorry?”

She squeezes his arm again. “You’ve just gotten so muscular, imagine what you could do with these arms.”

George swears that if she were to say one more thing, his eyes would pop out of his head. He huffs and subtly shakes her hand off - though he debates doing it and making it rudely obvious.

He looks around the room, looking to see if anyone else was witnessing this. Does anyone else hear her? 

George drags his hand down his face before he looks around the room again, specifically looking for any hidden cameras and waiting for Matty to jump out laughing. This has to be a prank. There’s no way any of this is real. Absolutely not.

He’s not sure where the others are- they had all gone their separate ways after arriving. Adam had left to go find Carly, Ross to find Waughy, and hell if anyone knew where Matty disappeared off to - likely to find someone to irritate with his presence (someone save that poor person’s soul).

Regardless, George needs an escape, he’s honestly not sure that he can take anymore of whatever this is.

Pulling out his phone, George unlocks it and goes to his messages and hovering his finger over your name. He could text you and see if you were here yet, but he doesn’t want to push you or rush you on a fun night out. 

He shakes his head, clicking on Matty’s name instead. Matty almost always has his phone on him, he’s more likely to answer than the other lads.

Before he has a chance to type anything out, he’s interrupted. 

“You lot are touring the UK soon, right?”

George blinks for a moment before nodding and looking down at his phone, “Huh? Oh, right - yeah we are.”

“Wow, touring for that long must be exhausting.” She rests her head on her palm, tilting her head and sighing.

He has a feeling he knows where this is going, and he really doesn’t want to stay for it - so he quickly types out a text to his mate.

Help

Mate seriously

Get me a glass of milk

He pauses for a moment before adding a short: 

Asap

It seems easier to just go along with whatever she’s saying at this point. Sighing, George responds with a simple, “It can be tiring sure.”

“God, and I bet it just gets so lonely being gone for months on end like that.”

George looks up and blinks at her - what? - before immediately going to message Matty again, not bothering to respond to her this time.

Milk me, seriously

Help

Now

She pauses as if she’s waiting for a response and when she realizes that he doesn’t plan on commenting, she continues on. “It must be hard settling down when you’re gone like that.”

He quickly looks around the bar, and for a moment he thinks he sees Matty’s curly mop of hair on the opposite side of the club - but he blinks and it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared. George sighs. There’s no way she’s about to suggest what he thinks she is - right?

“And I’m sure it’s just such a hassle finding normal groupies to pick up in order to have a good time.”

Wow. Okay, so she definitely is. He glances at his phone again - no response. That dickhead - what in the world could he be doing that’s so important right now. He sends another three messages.

Please

At this point come throw a glass of milk on me

So she will fucking fuck the fuck  o f f

George is staring holes into his phone, not daring to look up at her. The awkward silence is growing, and just when he thinks that she might be done, her voice grabs his attention again.

“Don’t think you’d turn down the company would you?”

He balks at her words. In what world- in what world has he done anything that has even remotely suggested that he wants to bring her on tour with him? That sounds like the worst possible outcome of this situation and he’d be damned if it ended that way.

Matty I’m spamming you for a reason

I know you’re laughing

Stop it

“I could come along, make sure you don’t get lonely.”

There’s no way George is even deigning to respond to that. He doesn’t hesitate to continue firing off messages to Matty left and right.

Can you actually be a good mate for once please

He tilts his head back and stares at the ceiling. In all honesty, he would give anything for it to open up and swallow him whole right now. Of course this happens to him, it’s just his luck. This is not how he wanted tonight to go.

“Gosh, and it’s been right cold weather lately…”

George doesn’t look at her, but he barely sees her try to move closer out of the corner of his eye and he immediately moves out of the way. He needs her to stop.

Matty

Matt

MATTHEW

You fuckhead why don’t you have your phone on you

WHY is he NOT ANSWERING. 

THIS IS WHY HANN IS BETTER THAN YOU. 

It feels like he’s been here for months, years even. She just keeps going, and just when he thinks she might be done - 

“I mean, we could wrap up tight together- keep each other warm…” Trailing off, she tilts her head and smiles what she probably thinks is a seductive smile.

She has to be kidding. Is his lack of response not enough? George feels like he might explode if someone doesn’t help him as soon as possible. WHERE IS MATTY.

I need you to

HELPMENOW

He’s desperate, he’s begging, and now he is pissed the fuck off. He angrily types out one more message and aggressively hits send before he slams his phone down. 

cunt. 

“I can think of a few other ways I could help keep you warm.”

George’s jaw drops. He’s not sure why she’s being so bold, but he is definitely not a fan and it’s getting old now. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he’s even responded to her and he sure as hell isn’t going to start now. 

He blankly stares at her, praying she gets the message and leaves. But she simply looks back at him, smiling and waiting for him to comment, scoff, huff, anything. He doesn’t, and the silence simply grows.

The awkward silence is broken by George’s phone buzzing, causing him to quickly scramble to grab it from its place facedown on the bar.

He unlocks his phone, only to be greeted by three messages from none other than Matty Healy himself.

Calm down mate lol

Help is on the way

You’ll thank me later xx

The fuck is that supposed to mean?

George stares at his phone for a moment before quickly looking around. Is this some joke? Does he think he’s funny? Because George is not laughing. At. All.

“I mean…” And just like that his irritation grows. Is she not done? The girl keeps pushing, not realizing that this may be George’s final straw. “...we would probably be sharing your bunk by the end of the tour, anyways.”

She shrugs, and George can feel his eye start to twitch. That’s it. He’s ending this now, forget about being a gentleman. He should have stopped whatever this was as soon as she sat down.

George opens his mouth to give her a piece of his mind, but he’s cut off by the feeling of a hand sliding across his shoulder to drape around his neck and the weight of a body being pressed into his side.

“I think he’s got that bit covered, thank you though.”

George stops breathing at the sound of the all too familiar voice, and looks up to be met with your side profile and a clear view of the tight-lipped smile you are currently sporting.

At the sight of you, George’s eyes light up and his entire demeanor changes. He lets out a sigh of relief, sagging against your side and giving you the biggest smile. “Hello, Darling”

The girl across from you bristles at the pet name, while you practically melt in place. God, did you miss him.

“Heya, G.” You lock eyes with him and you both get lost simply taking each other in - it’s been way too long.

Your small moment, however, is broken by the girl scoffing and crossing her arms. “I’m sorry, and who are you, exactly?”

There is zero hesitation as you respond. “His girlfriend.”

You bat your eyelashes and give the girl the widest, most passive aggressive smile you can manage.

George raises his eyebrows at your words and smirks to himself before wrapping his arm around your back and quickly tugging you into his lap by the waist. Your eyes go wide for a moment in shock before you manage to gather yourself and wrap your arms around his neck.

“Girlfriend, huh?” He leans in, whispering in your ear.

Your face heats up. You didn’t have a plan when you came over here - you were completely winging it and the title had slipped out of your mouth without much thought.

George however, seems unphased - if anything he seems quite content with your method of helping and is fully prepared to play into it. He nudges his nose at the side of your face, completely ignoring the presence of the girl seated next to the two of you.

To sell the idea that you are actually his girlfriend, you turn your head so that your nose meets his in an eskimo kiss - but you don’t go as far as actually kissing him on the mouth.

He brings the arm that’s not resting around your back over and places his hand on your thigh, lightly squeezing and giving you a dopey smile.

The girl makes an angry sound somewhere between a scoff and a whine, before standing up and storming her way back to the table full of her friends - most likely to rage about the dickhead who wasted her time and his bitch of a girlfriend.

You laugh at her retreating form, throwing your head back before resting it against George’s.

He wraps both arms around you, giving you an all-consuming hug that you had been desperately craving. “God, I missed you so much.”

You can’t help but smile at his words. “Missed you too, G. How’ve you been?”

George shakes his head. There’s no way that you’ve missed him half as much as he’s missed you. “I’ve been alright, yeah. Much better now that you’re here.”

“Well aren’t you just the flatterer tonight? C’mon, let’s get you over to the others.”

You stand up, bringing George with you and begin the walk across the club to your group’s table.

George takes the opportunity to wrap his arm around your lower back again and pull you into his side, holding you tightly against him. 

You let out a short laugh at his actions before looking up at him. “What are you doing, G?”

“I’m holding my girlfriend, is that a problem?” Your eyes widen, which George takes immediate note of and causes a smirk to dance its way across his face.

Glancing over your shoulder, you catch a glimpse of the girl from before who’s currently glaring daggers into the back of your head. You can’t help but smirk at her reaction and it’s at that moment you decide to go all out with your little stunt.

You turn back to look at George, where the smirks are still present on both of your faces. “Nope, not a problem at all - but you should at least do it right.”

George’s smirk falls, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion at your words as you  reach down to cover his hand that’s placed on your waist with your own. Grabbing his hand, you slowly drag it down your waist and over your hip before moving it behind you and placing it firmly on your ass.

His eyebrows shoot up in suprise at your actions, “Of course- right, can’t be doing it wrong now can I?” But you can clearly see the barely masked mischief and excitement in his eyes as he gives your ass a squeeze.

You let out a squeak and take your hand off of his, leaning further into George’s side. He looks down and smiles at the sight as you keep walking. “How’d you know I needed help, anyway?”

“A little rat told me you needed saving.”

George rolls his eyes, “Yeah, well that rat will be getting an earful later. I was desperate and in a right panic when he wouldn’t respond.”

You can’t help but let out a laugh at that, “Oh, I know. I’d say this is better than getting a glass of milk thrown on you though, wouldn’t you.”

He huffs and pulls you further into him, “Definitely better than a glass of milk.”

Reaching over, you poke at his side and joke, “So, is Hann better than me? Is he still your favourite?”

You give him a wide, cheeky smile and you fully expect his response to be in the form of a witty or sarcastic remark - but you’re completely taken aback as he makes eye contact with you and simply says, “You’re always my favourite.”

Woah. You weren’t expecting that - but his eyes show the most genuine sincerity mixed with a look you can’t quite decipher, and you can tell he means it.

His words fluster you, and you can feel the heat crawling up your neck, but luckily you both arrive at your table before he has a chance to notice.

“Well, well, well - look who decided to join us.” 

The two of you look up at the sound of your friend’s voice and you huff out a laugh, knowing what’s about to come next.

“Yeah, no thanks to your rat ass. Answer your phone next time you dickhead.” George glares at Matty and if looks could kill, he would be six feet under.

Matty, however, is completely unphased. He smirks as his eyes dart between you and George before stopping and zeroing in on the placement of George’s hand that has yet to move since you arrived.

“Seems like my solution worked just fine.” Matty looks over at you and sends you a quick wink before looking back at George.

“Oh piss off with that-” George starts, feeling slightly less confident than he had felt before when it was just the two of you, but you cut him off.

“I’d say I did a fine job as your knight in shining armor, wouldn’t you G?” You send a glare (that lacks any heat) towards Matty before looking up at George and smiling.

George looks down at you, unable to stop the smile that appears on his face, and pulls you to lean further into him. “I guess you did alright-”

You cut him off by scoffing and pushing at his chest and away from him, to which George laughs and brings both arms to wrap around you. “I’m kidding, Darling. I’m kidding. You did a wonderful job.”

You huff at him and rest your head on his, letting out a soft laugh. George chuckles at your behavior and presses a kiss to the top of your head before he moves you both to go sit down.

By now, the pair of you have committed to the bit of acting like a couple, if only for the sake of convincing the girl from earlier - who happens to still be watching you both like a hawk. So after sitting down with your friends, you lean into George’s side and look up at him.

You’re met with his eyes, and you have a silent conversation. We’ve already come this far, we might as well have fun with it. 

And for the rest of the night, you both put on your best performance at being in love - though neither of you know it takes absolutely no effort and is much easier than the alternative of pretending you aren’t.

As the night progresses, you grow more handsy with each other - unable to stop yourselves.

It starts with George holding your hand while you are both sitting, rubbing his thumb soothingly over your knuckles. You’re locked in a conversation with Ross when George lifts your joined hands to his mouth, and softly kisses along your knuckles before bringing your hands back down and into his lap.

A little while later, he has one arm resting around your shoulders and is softly playing with your hair, while the other hand is firmly placed in the crease of your leg where your thigh and hip meet.

You reach down, grasping his hand in yours, and begin messing with the rings on his fingers. He looks over and smiles seeing your actions, having missed the habit of yours.

At one point, you’re basically sitting on top of George with how closely you are sat next to him. 

Throughout the night, you start increasing the physical affection from the level of innocent touches to that of kissing one another anywhere possible; but never on the mouth.

George places kisses along your jaw and up to your ear, where he feels your breath hitch as he whispers to you.

You turn towards him, bringing your hand up to his chest and subtly unbuttoning an extra button on his shirt. No one seems aware of your actions, no one except for George himself, and you feel him stop breathing as you lean forward and place a kiss on each collarbone.

Eventually, the two of you grow tired of sitting down. You stand facing the table, tugging George up to stand behind you. Reaching towards him, you grab his hands and pull him to wrap his arms around you. More than happy to comply, George holds you tightly to him as you lean back into his chest and he affectionately nuzzles his nose into the side of your face, making you let out a soft giggle before returning to the group’s conversation.

No one in the group dares to question your sudden open affection - not even Matty. They’re too scared to interrupt your moment, afraid that if they mention it or point it out, you’ll both stop and revert back to the way things were before tour.

So they stay quiet, observing the way you two look so perfect together, noting that you have yet to properly kiss, and praying that one of you grows a pair and finally makes a move.

When the opening your favourite song to dance to starts playing, you don’t hesitate to drag George to the dancefloor.

You glance over at George, smiling wide as the bass begins to reverberate through your body and you start moving. You sway your hips to the beat, throwing your hands into the air and dancing like there’s no one else around.

While you start sensually dancing to the music, George jumps at the opportunity to simply take in the sight of you.

You are absolutely breathtaking - George swears he’s never seen anything so beautiful. The way the lighting falls on your face, casting a halo around you, paired with the way your hips move side to side makes him feel weak at the knees.

And that dress- God, that dress. It was fucking gorgeous on you. George immediately thanks the universe for the existence of such a stunning piece of clothing. 

He admires the way it highlights your features perfectly, dipping and running over each and every one of your curves in the most alluring way. With your back to him, he’s able to take in the criss-crossed lacing of the back of your dress, following the strings’ pattern to the delicate tie lying beneath the back of your neck.

How easy it would be to tug at the string, to unlace the dress and let it fall to the floor so he could take you in without the covering black material.

You turn around, eyes finding his and you slowly make your way over to stand directly in front of him. With the new position, George ogles the way the dress’s neckline dips low, showcasing your breasts with its rim of gold.

You immediately take note of his stare, basking in his attention and the obvious lust dancing in his eyes. Sliding your hands up his chest, you bring them to wrap around his neck and pull yourself closer to his body.

George’s hands quickly fly to your hips, moving along as they slowly start swaying to the beat again. He watches the material move with your body, the cuts in the thigh of the dress allowing you full motion. Your thigh flashes through the gap in the material and George closes his eyes, slowly swallowing. 

The dress might be stunning, but George is certain that it would look even better lying on the floor - his floor, to be exact.

You turn around in his hold so that your back is to his chest, and George firmly grabs your hips and pulls your body flush to his. You throw your head back onto his shoulder as your hips move in sync.

Dancing, you feel a surge of confidence - whether it’s from the rush of your song playing or from the pulse of need that’s coursing through your body as a result of George’s stare, you aren’t sure. Regardless, you take that feeling and press your hips backwards, grinding against George’s front.

With your head by his neck, you feel his breath hitch and hear his light groan at the feel of your ass pressed into his now obvious erection. His grip on your waist tightens and he cant help it as his hips involuntarily buck into yours.

He leans down to your ear, so close that you can feel his breath as he whispers, “Careful, Darling.”

It sends a shiver down your spine and you’re unable to stop yourself as you smirk and push backwards again, pulling a soft grunt from his mouth before you move your body off of him completely.

Smirking you turn around to face him, still dancing and watching his face as you move in and place open-mouthed kisses along the side of his neck. You stretch your neck upwards, reaching his ear and pushing yourself that last bit closer so that you can nip the bottom of his earlobe.

As the song comes to an end, you lean in and let out a breathy whisper of “Or what?” before you pull away and slowly begin walking backwards to your table.

You send a wink George’s way and turn around completely, leaving George standing in the middle of the dancefloor staring after you in shock.

Oh, he is so fucked.

After being frozen in place for a moment, stuck watching the way your hips look as you walk away, George snaps out of it and quickly follows your retreating figure.

You get to the table first, not daring to look back after the stunt you just pulled. It’s only a minute later that an arm wraps around the front of your waist and pulls you backwards into a firm chest.

You don’t have to turn around to know that it’s George - of course you know it’s him.

There is no hesitation as you grab both of his arms and wrap them tightly around you, resting back into his hold with your hands still on his. George looks down at you, smiling softly before leaning forward and resting his chin on your head - savouring the feeling of you in his arms.

It’s at this time that you both happen to look up and see the girl from earlier look away from the pair of you embracing - where she must have been watching you since the dancefloor - and watch as she angrily gathers her things before storming out of the club, leaving her friends looking after her in confusion.

You and George stare at the door for a moment longer before looking at each other and bursting into laughter. It seems like your plan worked better than you originally expected. The only problem is - now your fun is over. 

She’s finally left and George doesn’t have to worry about her catching him in another painful conversation again, meaning you no longer have to play pretend at being his girlfriend. You can go back to normal now - except you really don’t want to.

Despite your reluctance, you know that you can’t stay this way forever. So you begin to move out of his hold, trying to get away before he decides to move himself - you aren’t sure that you could handle that rejection anymore.

You work your way out of his arms, and go to step away when George grabs your wrist. “Hey, no - stop. Where are you going?”

He furrows his eyebrows as he feels you freeze before turning around to meet his stare. Were you not having a good time? He knows that the girl left already, but he honestly thought you had been enjoying yourself as much as he was. He doesn’t want to stop.

“G, she’s gone and left now, you don’t have to do that anymore.” You try your best to keep an even, lighthearted tone, but your voice wavers and shows a sliver of the disappointment that you currently are feeling.

He sees it though, he always does, and that’s why he knows that it’s okay to keep this going. You want it too.

“So? Come back here.” George sits down and tugs you to him by your wrist, pulling you to sit directly into his lap before he leans down and speaks into your ear. “Doesn’t mean we have to stop.”

Your breath hitches at his words, but you make no move to stand up. Instead you sink further into his hold, resting your head against the side of his. George swears that he’s never smiled this much in his life as he leans his head fully into yours before turning it and placing kisses along your jaw and up the side of your face.

You both stop holding back after that.

Where you had been engaging in moderate displays of affection while you had been “pretending,” you are now both going full out.

You’re constantly touching each other in some way - on the leg, on the arm, around the waist, with your sides completely pressed against each other, with you placed unmoving from George’s lap.

You’ve also begun kissing - not on the mouth, no matter how badly you both want it to happen - but anywhere else that the two of you can reach. It’s not overwhelmingly disgusting or obvious kissing, but it is definitely there. 

The only place, other than the mouth, that George has yet to kiss you is your neck, instead opting to direct his mouth around your face, jaw, and hands. You, however, aren’t neglecting his neck in the slightest - in fact, it’s likely that he will have a mark or two or three (or more) by the end of the night if you keep it up.

The pair of you keep getting more handsy as the night progresses, which has led you to where you are now, sitting directly next to George.

You had both stood up to stretch your legs a while ago, and had since sat back down in your own respective seats rather than sitting on top of one another. As soon as you sat down, George’s hand found your thigh.

It was perfectly normal, especially for tonight, so you thought nothing of it. You simply watch him as he starts talking to Ross, unashamedly admiring his side profile.

You lean forward to place your elbow on the table and then rest your head in your palm, but the movement on your thigh causes you to immediately sit up straight and goosebumps to erupt across your skin.

George had begun running his fingertips back and forth along the outside of your thigh, slowly dragging them side to side and running them up and down the length of your thigh.

You are completely transfixed by the movement, your entire body heating up at his touch and it only seems to be growing worse by the second. You watch as he switches from using just his fingertips to placing the entirety of his hand on your thigh.

He starts moving his hand along the side of your thigh, now rubbing his large hand back and forth and sending a shiver down your spine at the feeling.

You look up, only to find him paying you absolutely no attention. He’s still completely invested in his conversation with Ross. You’re not even sure that he’s aware of what he’s doing.

It’s not until his hand moves up and over the top of your thigh, squeezing once before he begins running his hand along the top and inside of your thigh, that your stomach starts to flutter and a hot surge of need pulses through your body.

It’s not scandalous - he’s not making any move to reach under the hem of your dress, hell, he’s not even looking at you - but, god if it wasn’t doing something to you right now. If he doesn’t stop soon you’re going to completely short circuit.

Leaning over, you place three kisses up George’s neck before you pull away and go to stand up. You are going to need a drink if he keeps this up, and you haven’t had a chance to talk to Matty after you left to go save George.

George watches you as you head to the bar and grab another drink before you walk back to the table and stand next to where Matty is sitting with Adam. Missing your presence, George excuses himself and makes his way over to you. 

He comes up behind you with every intention of attaching his lips to your neck for what he realizes is the first time tonight, and it’s as he leans down that he sees it.

He’s not sure how he missed it in the first place - the only reasoning he can think of being that he was too entranced by every other part of you to notice the familiar gold chain hanging around your neck. 

But there it was, laying nicely around your neck and matching your dress perfectly. It stuns him, completely freezes him in place.

He vividly remembers leaving it for you that night. You had mentioned the necklace more than once, both while sober(ish) and while drunk - and he selfishly had wanted to leave you with something to remember him by, in hopes that he could stand a chance once he got back. So he left it for you to find when you woke up the next morning. 

But never in a million years did he think you would genuinely keep it, let alone wear it out tonight.

George can’t help the urge that comes over him as he reaches out. He grabs the back of your neck and spins you around to face him, paying no attention to the fact that there are other people around and that he’s interrupted your conversation with Matty.

The action surprises you, and you let out a small gasp. “G, what-”

“Is this my necklace?” George slides his hand from the back of your neck and slowly runs his fingers down along the chain before taking it in his fingers.

You freeze for a moment, not expecting the question and you panic for a second. “Yeah - yes. It is.”

And then you wait, not knowing how he might react and unable to read his face to figure it out. George simply stares at you, a look in his eye that you actively choose not to read into as he looks at you - all of you. You are so beautiful. 

He pulls on the necklace and brings your face closer to his in the process, similar to the way you had done it on that night two months ago. His eyes bounce back and forth between yours before glancing down at your lips. “You were right, Darling.”

Your chest feels tight looking into his eyes. You break away and look down at his lips and breathe out a soft, “About what?” 

He looks at your lips for a moment longer and lifts his eyes to look directly into yours. “It does look better on you.”

And before you have a chance to respond, he tugs on the necklace again - closing the distance between your faces and crashing your lips into his.

It’s not soft, but it isn’t unbearably rough either. It’s passionate and all consuming, and neither of you can believe that you’ve waited this long to do it.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, thudding so violently that you swear it might burst out of your chest all together. The kiss starts slow, your lips moving in sync; but as he drags his tongue along your bottom lip, all gentleness is thrown to the wind.

His tongue slips past your lips, and your hands immediately move up to the back of his head, pulling his face impossibly closer to your own.

The hand holding the necklace shifts up to lay securely around your throat, and George's other hand slips around your waist to pull your hips against his. His grip on your throat tightens ever so slightly, causing you to let out a whine and tighten your grip on his head. 

The kiss continues on, all teeth and lips and tongue, trying to devour each other and make up for lost time.

Somewhere in the background you can hear your friends whooping and hollering - Matty being the loudest, shouting "Get a fucking room" with a wide smile on his face while everyone else whistles and cheers

It's only the need to breathe that forces you two apart, gasping for air and resting your forehead on his.

You let out a breathy laugh and look up as you trail slow kisses from the point of his jaw to the corner of his mouth, where you lightly nip at his bottom lip before catching both his lips in yours for another kiss.

His hand on your throat tightens again before he drags his hand down your body and slides both hands over your ass, where he pulls you in and slightly grinds into you.

You gasp into his mouth, causing him to smirk before he takes control of the kiss again. He slips his tongue into your mouth and groans as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. 

All you can think of is him. His lips. His hands. His face. His body. Nothing but him. Just George.

All he can think of is you. Your eyes. Your mouth. Your hips. Your neck. Only you. Just Y/n.

It’s not until Adam clears his throat, catching both of your attention, that you break apart again.

“As much as I hate to be the one to break it up, I feel the need to remind you that we are in a public place - and I dont know about everyone else, but I’d rather not watch you fuck on the table.”

The group bursts into a round of laughter as they watch you hide your face in George’s neck, feeling his chest move as you both laugh along with everyone else.

Matty, being the ass that he is, can’t help himself as he gives his own input. “I don’t know Hann, it could be fun.”

It sends the group into another round of boisterous laughter, which only grows as George lets out a quick, “Fuck off Matty.”

You keep laughing to yourself as you push your face further into George’s neck, making absolutely sure that no one is paying attention to you and that no one is able to see your face. Once you’re sure that the coast is clear, you boldly lick a stripe up George’s neck until you reach the bottom of his ear.

You feel his breath hitch as you whisper his name. “Hey, George?”

“Hmm? Yes, Darling?” He turns his head to look at you.

“I’m getting tired.” You pull away from his body to look up at him, and watch as his face scrunches slightly in confusion.

“You are?”

“Yeah,” you reach forward and grab hold of his belt, using it to softly pull him into you so that your faces are back to being only centimetres apart. You lean forward and make sure to look him directly in the eyes as you speak the words into his mouth, “I think you should take me home.”

George’s demeanor shifts and you watch as his eyes darken a bit before he’s spinning you around and moving you away from the table and across the club. “Right, yeah - yes. Let’s go. Home. Right now.”

He doesn’t spare a glance or a goodbye to your group, but you swear you hear Matty call out, “Don’t forget to wrap it!” before George is speed walking to the exit and practically shoving you through the door in his hurry to get you home and out of that damn dress.

You rush to the corner, where George calls over a taxi and helps you get in, quickly following behind you. He slides over to the middle seat and leans forward, giving the driver his address before he leans back into the seat and places his hand on your thigh. You won’t be doing anything in the taxi, you don’t want to make the driver uncomfortable, but the both of you are beyond anxious to get home. 

The tension has been building for far too long. All of the silence and patience, the pining and desperately waiting - it’s all been leading up to tonight.

• • •

The taxi ride back to George’s flat flew by and before you know it, the both of you are out of the vehicle and on each other, kissing like your lives depended on it.

You hurry your way to the door of his flat, not breaking apart until George has to fish his keys out of his pocket.

He pulls them out and fumbles through his different keys, trying to find the one to his flat - but he’s having a hard time. His breathing catches as you wrap your arms around his waist from behind him and begin to place kisses along his clothed back. God - where is that fucking key.

Finally, he finds it and wastes no time in unlocking the door and swinging it wide open. George moves to the side so that you can walk past him as he goes to remove the key.

You smile at him, unwrapping your arms from around his body, and you move to go inside. You barely have one foot past the door’s threshold when George comes directly behind you, closing the door and ushering you into the room.

Before you can blink, George is in front of you. His mouth is hot on yours as he slams your bodies back into the closed door, pinning your arms above your head with one hand while the other travels down your side to your waist, pulling your body against his.

He groans into your mouth as you buck your hips forward, grinding down on the thigh he’s placed between your legs.

His body presses further against yours as the hand holding your arms releases its hold. He keeps his mouth on yours as he slowly drags his hand down your arm and moves it along your shoulders before settling it snugly around your neck.

George lightly squeezes his hand around your throat and uses his other arm to pull your lower body further into him, causing you to let out a drawn out whine into his mouth.

Bringing your hands down, you cup them around his jaw and hold his face to yours as you kiss him again before pulling away, completely out of breath.

George doesn’t stop though, instead he begins kissing along your jaw and works his way down your neck, making your breathing stutter.

“George-” You breathe out, trying to get his attention.

He doesn’t stop his actions, simply letting out a rough “Mmm,” against your neck.

You need him to listen to you though, so you softly pull at his head so that he can see your face. “George, wait.”

He stops immediately this time, bringing his hand up from your neck to cup your jaw, rubbing his thumb along your cheek. “What is it, Darling?”

“If we do this- it changes things.” You search his eyes for any sign of hesitation, but he doesn’t miss a beat.

He leans down and presses a soft, slow kiss on your lips. “I know.”

You release a breathy sigh as he moves his mouth down and to the other side of your neck. “I don’t want to be your best friend, I don’t want you like that.”

“I know.”

And with that you push away from the wall and into him, your lips colliding as George starts walking backwards to his bedroom. He pulls you with him, leaving no space between your bodies and refusing to break away from you. You bump into furniture and walls, stumbling down the hall and into his room, where he finally breaks away from you.

He pulls back and looks at you, taking in the way your hair is disheveled from his hands, the way your lips are swollen and your eyes are glazed over in lust - both of which he’s sure that he mirrors perfectly.

He can’t help himself as he goes back in for another kiss, speaking directly into your mouth. “God, you are so gorgeous.”

George gives you no chance to respond before he’s on you again. “And this dress - so fucking stunning darling.”

Your breath catches as he moves to the side of your face and nips at the bottom of your ear. Your words come out far too airy, “I bought it for you.”

George smirks, “Yeah? Wanted to look all pretty for me, Darling?”

“Yeah- yes.” You breathe out. “Only bought it so you could take it off.”

“Is that right, baby?” Your knees go weak at the pet name. “I should get to it then, yeah? Say thank you for all your hard work.”

George moves in, face coming so close to yours that if you were to move forward your lips would touch, and runs a finger along the necklace hanging around your neck before reaching behind you. He slowly pulls the string behind your neck, undoing the tie holding up your dress.

He unlaces the back of your dress, holding your eyes as he does, before he leans back so that he can see your body properly. 

“You were so good to me tonight, Darling- saving me and getting all dressed up.” George moves his hand to the neck of your dress and looks up at you. “Is this okay?”

“Yes- please.” 

Not needed anything more from you, George grabs the top of your dress and begins slowly dragging it downwards - intently taking in every new inch of skin that is exposed to him.

As the material passes over your breasts, he pauses and visibly swallows, looking up to make eye contact with you as he leans forward and attaches his mouth to your left nipple. You gasp, placing your hand on his head as he kisses at your chest.

It doesn’t take long for him to resume pulling your dress down, relishing in the way it slides down your body and over your curves. He holds his breath as he moves the material past your hips, watching the way the black fabric shows slight resistance before falling completely to the floor and pooling at your ankles, leaving you in only your lacy underwear.

He stares, frozen in place for far too long. George’s lack of movement, or breathing for that matter, causes you to panic - feeling self conscious with the way his eyes are glued to you.

You bring your hands up, trying to hide yourself from his view; but his hands shoot out immediately to grab at your wrists and hold them away from your body.

“No.” His eyes sweep your body once more before he grabs your waist and starts walking you backwards to the bed, leaving your dress in the middle of the room.

“Look at you, so fucking pretty.” The back of your knees hit the edge of the bed and you stop moving, looking up at George before reaching over and tugging at his shirt.

“You have too many clothes on.” He smirks at your insistence before his hands find the hem of his shirt and he pulls it over his head in one swift motion.

“Better?” George looks down at you, raising an eyebrow at you.

You stare at him, ogling his chest. Sure, you’ve seen him shirtless before, but this is different. He’s shirtless for you. You smile up at him, “Much.”

He places his hands on your hips, not even trying to hide the way he looks at your chest. “You know, I really do think some thanks are in order.”

“Hmm, is that so?”

“Oh, yes - you were so perfect for me tonight, Darling. I want to make you feel good.” George’s hands begin to slowly run up and down your sides, trailing his fingers along your form and causing goosebumps to erupt across your skin. “You gonna let me make you feel good? Gonna let me see you?”

He leans forward, running his nose along your jaw. “Want to have you shaking for me.” He brings his right hand back up to your throat, lightly wrapping it around your throat as he uses his thumb to tilt your jaw upwards - urging you to look at him.

You let out a soft sound at the action, your underwear growing wetter by the second.

With his hand on your throat, he feels as you audibly swallow, resulting in the wide smirk that makes its way across his face. “Oh Darling, I’m going to make you feel so good. Nobody will ever compare.”

George uses the thumb that is still placed under your chin to reach up and pull down on your bottom lip, moving his face closer to yours and stopping just before your lips meet.

You reach out, slipping your fingers into the waistband of his pants before tugging his hips completely against yours. “I’m hearing a lot of talk G, maybe you should put your money where your mouth is.” 

Your hands are shaking from holding back from him - you can’t take the anticipation anymore.

George simply smirks at you before grabbing behind your thighs, lifting you off the ground and throwing you back down onto the bed. You slide your way up the bed, propping yourself against the pillows and watching as George removes his belt and nothing more.

Slowly, he makes his way up the bed, stopping as his head meets your stomach. He places kisses traveling from one hip to the other, right above the waistband of your underwear, and smiles as he feels your stomach quiver at the touch.

He runs his hands along the outside of your thighs before bringing them up to the top of your underwear and slipping his fingers into the waistband. George glances up at you, waiting for your nod of approval before he drags the lacy material down your legs and throws them somewhere into his room.

Coming back to your body, he lifts your legs onto his shoulders and begins placing slow, open-mouthed kisses along the inside of your right leg, starting at your ankle and making his way up to where you want him the most. When he reaches the top of your thigh, he switches legs, repeating the motions and making his way up your left leg.

This time, when he reaches the top of your leg, he grabs onto the insides of your knees and pulls them apart, exposing your sopping cunt to him.

At the sight, George lets out a loud groan, bringing a finger up to run through your folds. He doesn’t even notice as he mumbles out, “Such a pretty pussy.”

You let out a whine, “George, please.”

The sound of your voice is all that it takes for him to rush into action, finally caving in and licking a stripe directly between your folds, catching your clit and making you let out a loud gasp as you throw your head back into the pillows.

George wastes no time, diving into your cunt and eating it like a man starved. He slowly flicks his tongue up and down your pussy, before directing his attention to your clit - feeding off of the sounds coming from your mouth. His tongue slowly circles the bud before placing just the right amount of pressure in the perfect spot, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking.

The moan you let out is pornographic and you can’t stop your hips as they grind into his face. He never lets up, placing one hand on your hips to hold them in place. “Tastes so good baby,” he speaks directly into your cunt, slowing the movement of his tongue only so that he can bring his other hand up to meet his mouth.

With no warning, George slips a finger into you. “Oh my god-” Your words are cut off by your moan as he slowly starts thrusting his finger in and out of you, relishing in the sounds coming from your mouth.

He looks up and watches your face contort as he adds another finger, picking up his pace and attaching his lips back to your swollen clit. George has never been this turned on in his life, and is unable to stop himself from grinding down into the bed as he laps at your cunt.

You can feel the tension building within you, like a string pulled taught that is about to snap, and you cry out as you feel George curl his fingers inside of you, brushing against the perfect spot.

He picks up his pace and repeats the motion over and over again, thrusting his fingers in and out and sucking harshly at your clit. You can’t breathe, you can’t think. Any and all thoughts in your head completely vanish as you chance a glance between your legs and lock eyes with George.

You can feel his smirk, your mouth falling open as you watch him completely devour your cunt. “George- oh fuck-” Your breathing stutters as you catch sight of him rutting against the mattress as he eats you out and you release a drawn out moan, hands flying down to grab at his head.

He groans against you, the vibrations adding to the stimulation, and without any warning the tension building in your stomach snaps and you are cumming on his face. Your back arches off the bed, thighs clenching tightly around George’s head, and in that moment George swears that he could die a happy death between your thighs.

His fingers and mouth continue their movements, gradually slowing down and working you through your high; not stopping until you begin whining and push his head away.

Pulling away from your sensitive cunt and he moves up your body, placing sloppy kisses as he makes his way to hover above your face. He takes in the sight of you and his dick twitches as he surveys your disheveled state. Bringing his hand to your mouth, he places the fingers that were inside you just moments before on your lips, dragging down your bottom lip and watching it fall back into place.

What he doesn’t expect is the way your hand grasps at his wrist, holding it in place as you open your lips and take his fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his digits and sucking on them - maintaining eye contact the entire time.

“Fuck.” The groan he lets out at the action is guttural as he swiftly pulls his fingers from your mouth, immediately catching your lips with his in a heated kiss. His tongue makes its way into your mouth, pushing his hips down and grinding against you.

You whine at the feeling and reach for his pants, undoing the button and pulling down his zipper. Shuffling off of the bed, George stands and has his pants off in a flash - not wasting any time before climbing back onto the bed with you.

You sit up, immediately reaching out for him as you meet his mouth half way and drag your lips across his cheek before making your way down his neck.

His breath catches and he reaches for your hips, soaking in the way your lips and tongue trace across his collar bones. The large tent in his boxers is becoming increasingly hard to ignore, and he thinks that he might die if he doesn’t find some relief soon.

Little does he know, that’s exactly what you intend to fix.

You continue kissing down his body, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses and licks along his chest, working your way down to his stomach and reaching the waistband of his boxers.

You lightly nip at the skin directly above his underwear, smirking now that it’s his stomach quivering before you reach up to drag your fingers along the elastic of his waistband.

Glancing up, your eyes meet his and he lets out a laboured sound, one that falls somewhere between a sigh and a whine. He looks fucked out and you haven’t even touched him yet.

“Can I?” You slide your fingers beneath the waistband and tug, the material slipping lower on his hips, but don’t move any further.

“You don’t have to-”

“I’m not asking if I have to,” You lightly trace a finger around the bulge in his boxers, enjoying the way he quietly gasps. “I’m asking if I can.”

He’s nodding before he can process what he’s doing, and you don't hesitate to slide the material down his legs, releasing his hard on as it bounces upwards and hits his stomach.

Your jaw drops at the size. Sure, you figured George would be big - what with his height and with the way the skinny jeans he used to wear never truly hid much - but seeing it in full? Nothing could have prepared you for the sheer sight of it. You were practically drooling.

George watches as you stare at his cock in shock and his hips squirm. He needs you to do something, anything - or he isn’t going to be able to hold back from completely wrecking you. 

Not that he didn’t plan on doing that anyway, he just wants to let you have your moment - and the idea of your mouth on him is enough to have him cumming before you’ve even done anything.

“Are you going to keep staring? Or are you going to-” Before George can finish his sentence, you wrap your hand around his dick and anything he wanted to say flew from his mind, instead coming out as a rough gasp. “S-shit-”

You pump your hand up and down a few more times before you can’t stand it any longer. You lean forward, looking up to hold eye contact with him as you lick a slow stripe along the underside of his cock, staring from the base and making your way to his tip - where you tease your tongue along the slit at the top.

George lets out a grunt, doing his best to stop himself from bucking into your face. He can’t bring himself to look away as you swirl your tongue around his tip, paying close attention to what makes him twitch or grunt.

You pull away just to gather the spit in your mouth and let it drip down onto him, using the extra lubrication to start pumping your hand around him at an even pace.

He throws his head back at the feeling of your hand around him, unable to look at you as your hand moves up and down, up and down, over and over again. Your hand tightens its grip and he swears, letting out a groan. 

You watch him, admiring the way he looks with his head thrown back. You squeeze your hand again and you revel in the way he has to roughly swallow.

Not slowing the movement of your hand, you lean forward again and take the head of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue and sucking harshly, welcoming the salty taste of precum as it enters your mouth.

His head shoots up from its laid back position, eyes wide as he lets out a groan. “Holy fuck, Y/n.”

Something about the way he says your name, with the rasp of lust on his tongue, gives you the confidence to push your head further down - taking more of him into your mouth before pulling back for air.

You move down again, taking as much of him in as you can before you gag slightly, pulling a deep moan from George’s mouth. The sound is all you need to keep going, beginning to bob your head up and down.

George can’t believe this is happening. All of these years spent imagining this exact scenario and now it’s a reality - you are actually here, with his dick in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down while using your other hand to reach what you aren’t able to take in. 

He can’t stop the way his hips buck slightly upwards on a particular downward stroke and swirl of your tongue. You let out a loud moan around him, and he feels the vibrations in his gut. “Fuck, Darling- oh God, you’re mouth’s so- shit.”

His hand flies to your hair, gathering it into his hand and pulling as you continue bobbing your head. You moan again. “Yeah? Like when I pull your hair baby?”

You whine as he pulls at it again, and he groans. “God, feels so good- oh shit- don’t-”

You ignore his half-hearted protests as you slow your movements and press him further into your mouth, taking him all the way in, nose meeting skin, and swallowing around him to keep yourself from gagging.

George hits the back of your throat and chokes out a moan - he can’t do it anymore.

Before you can blink, George roughly pulls you off of him and flips your positions so that you are lying directly beneath him, his arms braced on either side of your head. 

“As fucking amazing as that was, I’m not done with you.” He grinds down against your dripping cunt. “I want to be inside of you. Now.”

You let out a whine, clutching at his shoulders as he grinds against you again - making both of your heads fall backwards at the friction.

“Please- George please. I need you.” You scratch along his shoulders and he shutters.

He smirks as he reaches over to the nightstand, quickly pulling out a condom. “Oh- you need me, now? What happened to all that talk?”

You scoff, far past the point of wanting to be teased like that - you are ready now, and you intend to make that clear. Reaching up, you snatch the condom from his hands, bringing it to your mouth and ripping it open with your teeth.

You toss the foil packet to the side and make sure to look George in the eyes as you ever-so-slowly roll the condom on. “Just fuck me, G.”

He groans at your words, and wastes no time lining himself up to your entrance. George looks up at you and smiles, “Yes ma’am.”

And then he pushes into you, slowly stretching out your pussy and making you both moan out.

“Oh fuck- George.” His pace is measured, using all of his restraint to keep himself from thrusting completely into you and possibly hurt you.

He works his way in and out of you, pushing slightly deeper with each forward movement until he’s completely inside of you - your pussy taking him to the hilt, your hips pressed directly into his.

He’s so deep inside of you that you whine out again, breathing heavily. He hasn’t even started moving yet. “Holy shit-”

“Christ, Darling- youre so fucking tight.” His muscles tense, trying not to rock into you until you are adjusted to his size and ready.

The pain quickly morphs into pleasure, and you clench down tightly around him. “Shit- don’t-”

“George, please- I need you to move.” You don’t have to tell him twice. He immediately pulls out of you, leaving only the tip in, before swiftly thrusting back into your cunt.

“Oh God,” you cry out - clutching at his shoulders and he starts moving in and out of you at a steady pace. 

He watches your face scrunching in ecstasy, your moans being music to his ears. He brings his hands up - one to grab tightly at your breast and the other to find its favourite place around your throat. 

He lightly squeezes the sides of your neck, and your jaw drops open - letting out a loud moan before snapping shut. He thrusts deeper at the sound, unable to help the immediate reaction.

George hovers over you, moving his hand from your breast and bringing it to your jaw and grabbing your chin. “Open.”

You immediately do as he says, opening your mouth and waiting in anticipation. He leans down and spits directly into your mouth, groaning at the way you immediately moan and swallow. “Good fucking girl.”

“George- fuck, faster- please.” You sound pathetic, you know it, but you can't find it in yourself to care as George immediately picks up the pace.

He’s pounding into your cunt, hand wrapped around your throat and eyes firmly on your chest, watching as your breasts bounce with each of his thrusts. He uses his free hand to lift one of your legs higher, allowing him to thrust deeper into you. “Fuck- You’re so good to me.”

Your moans grow louder at his words, loving the praise and wanting more. “George- oh my god-” You are cut off as you feel his fingers find your clit, rubbing circles in tandem with his thrusts.

“Shit- the best pussy - god you’re - always the fucking best, Darling.” He feels you clench tightly around him and he quickens his movements on your clit, pushing you further to your release. “Gonna cum, babe?”

“Yeah, yea- oh fuck George please-” You feel it building, that tension in your gut. You can feel it in your toes and you start rolling your hips to meet his. He leans down, catching your lips in a messy kiss.

He barely pulls away, speaking into your mouth as he says, “Give it to me, Y/n. Cum for me.” 

It doesn’t take much more before you are arching off the bed for the second time tonight, wrapping your legs around George’s hips as he continues thrusting in and out of you, moving his fingers over your clit and working through your high.

You’re a moaning mess as he reattaches his lips to yours, tightening his hold around your neck again before completely removing his hand, opting to place both hands on either side of your waist.

You start coming down from your high, but you aren’t ready for this to be over and neither is he. His dick twitches as you begin grinding down against him, crying out at the feeling of his cock dragging against the walls of your sensitive cunt.

It takes two rolls of your hips before George can’t handle it anymore. His hands are shaking from holding back from you. He wants to give it all to you, and the way your hips are pushing and grinding against him tells him you want it just as badly.

He quickly pulls out of you and you whine at the loss of him before you’re letting out a loud gasp - hands flying outwards as he grabs your hips and swiftly flips you onto your hands and knees.

His dick throbs at the sight of your ass and bare back on full display for him. His hands come up to your ass and he groans, grabbing at the flesh and kneading it in his hands.

You press back into his hands. “George, please- I want it.”

“Yeah? You gonna take it all for me, Darling?” His hold shifts from your ass to your hips, keeping them in place as he grinds against your backside. “Think you can do it?”

“Yeah - yes. I can take it - want to take it all.” You’ve never wanted anything more.

He smirks at your words before leaning down over you, hands still on your hips as he starts at your ass and licks a long, slow trail along your spine. You shutter as you feel his tongue glide along your back and make its way over to your shoulder. As he reaches your shoulder, he bites down and draws out a gasped moan from your lips. His tongue slides over the marks that his teeth left, before he places a kiss there and moves to speak into your ear.

“Put your hands on the headboard. Now.”

You don’t hesitate to do as you're told, immediately placing your hands on the headboard and bracing yourself as you feel George reach down to position your legs further apart.

“Good?” He checks, running his hand up your back and allowing him to feel the way your breathing shutters with need.

“I’m good, G. Just do something-”

Your words are completely cut off as George grips your hips tightly and roughly thrusts into you - knocking the air from your lungs in a drawn out moan.

He doesn’t stop once, hips immediately finding and setting a punishing rhythm. He’s deeper than he had been the first time - allowing him to reach places no one had been able to reach before - and you can’t help the pornographic moan that comes from your throat.

The sound that comes from George’s chest is almost that of a growl - the feeling of your pussy gripping him so tightly, pulling him back in every time he pulls back, only spurring him to quicken his pace.

“Look at you, taking it - fuck, such a good girl.” He watches as his cock repeatedly sinks into you, coming out wetter each time he pulls away. 

The room is full of the sounds of skin meeting skin and your moans of his name, your bodies colliding over and over as he rams deeper into you.

With one particularly deep thrust, your grip on the headboard slips and you push your face into the pillows, unable to hold yourself up any longer. The new angle directs George to the sensitive spot deep inside of you and you cry out into the pillows, pushing your hips backwards to meet his thrusts with your own.

“Yeah? That the spot, baby?” You moan back in response, nodding your head into the pillows. He grips your hips so tightly that it’s likely to leave bruises, watching as your ass bounces against his hips. “That’s right, take that dick baby - shit - doing so good for me.”

George keeps one hand on your hip, while the other comes to rest on your back, pressing your top half completely into the bed and leaving your ass up in the air. He pushes down, pounding into your cunt with no remorse and groaning as he watches his cock disappear into you. “Fuck, look at your pretty pussy - like it’s made for me.”

He lets out a growl as you clench down around him and his pace stutters. With no warning, your third release of the night comes crashing over you - causing you to scream out. The pleasure is overwhelming.

“Fuck - shit - gripping me so tight, i can’t - oh god-”

George doesn’t miss a beat, pulling out and turning you over before pushing right back into your dripping cunt. He places all of his weight on you, clutching you to his body as his hips snap harshly against yours. “Im gonna cum- oh shit - im coming -”

He thrusts in one, two more times before his movements stop and he’s spilling into the condom with a raspy groan of your name.

His body relaxes into yours, wrapping his arms around you and cradling you to his body as if he couldn’t bear the idea of separating from you. He peppers soft kisses over your shoulders and across your face as your laboured breathing slows to a normal rate.

After a moment, George places his hands on either side of your head and pushes himself up, giving him the opportunity to look at you.

Your hair is a mess, you have the beginnings of dark marks along your neck and over your shoulders, your lips are swollen and wet with spit, and you’re unbelievably sweaty - but he’s never thought you looked better. He can’t believe that he gets to see you like this.

At the same time, you’re taking in the adoration in his eyes, the way his shoulders are scratched to bits, the way his lips lift at the corners of his mouth into a soft, small smile. He’s perfect.

While you both would love to stay in this position forever, you’re both painfully aware of George’s softening dick and the mess on your thighs. So with great reluctance, George sits up and pulls out of you - murmuring a soft apology when he sees your face scrunch up in a grimace. He gets off of the bed and you watch as he disappears into the bathroom.

Holy shit - did that really just happen?

It’s only minutes before George is walking back into the room, wet cloth in hand and condom nowhere to be seen.

He moves back to the bed, leaning forward and spreading your legs. He brings the cloth up, softly cleaning away the sticky mess on your thighs, placing kisses on your leg every time you wince from the overstimulation on your sensitive cunt.

Throwing the cloth into the trashcan by his desk, George crawls back into the bed and immediately pulls you into him, wrapping his arms around you and cuddling you into his body as he pulls the blankets over the both of you.

You place a slow, soft kiss on his lips before you curl into his chest. He sighs in content and you relax into his hold. 

Neither of you speak. You don’t have to. You both choose to stay in the moment, laying pressed against the person you love, and save any conversation for in the morning.

It’s like that, wrapped snugly in George’s arms, that you begin to drift off - lulled to sleep by the steady rhythm of his breathing and the arm rubbing soothingly up and down your back.

• • •

You’re the first to wake up, disoriented until you remember where you are and who it is that has their arm thrown around your waist.

You roll over and stare as you come face to face with your best friend, the man you are hopelessly in love with, fast asleep next to you. It takes a moment for the shock of your situation to pass out of your system - and even then it never fully goes away.

Turning to look at the ceiling, you run over the events of the last sixteen hours. Last night really happened. You shagged George Daniel - your George. It was real, the ache between your legs being a prime indicator of such. You couldn’t believe it - but what did this mean for the both of you?

You shift onto your side so that you can face George as he sleeps, taking in his peaceful state. His eyelids flutter in his sleep and he lets out a soft hum as he tightens the arm around your waist.

You don’t stop yourself as the urge to touch him takes over you. Reaching up, you begin to lightly trace his face with your fingertips - dragging them over his cheeks, his brows, his forehead - committing all of his features to your memory.

Your fingertips eventually reach his lips, and it’s as you run them over his cupid's bow that he stirs awake - but you don’t move your hand away.

He lets out a quiet noise, shuffling for a moment before his eyes flutter open to meet yours. George blinks once, twice and then smiles a soft, dopey-looking smile that causes butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

Noticing that your fingers are still resting by the corner of his mouth, George turns his head so that he can place a kiss on your index finger, following it with a kiss to your middle, ring, and pinky fingers.

You watch him in awe as he brings his hand up to wrap around your wrist before slowly trailing kisses up your arm and pulling you completely into his embrace. 

His arms wrap tightly around you and he begins peppering kisses across your face, sending a smile to your lips and pulling a giggle out of you. George chuckles, bringing his nose up to rub against yours before pushing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss.

The kiss grows in passion, your lips moving in sync as you roll on top of him, and it’s not until you’re pulling away for air that your moment is interrupted. Beneath you, George’s stomach growls, and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles from your throat at the sheepish look on his face.

“Hungry?” You tease, lowering your face back down to his.

He hums, bringing his hand to the back of your neck and pulling your face closer to his, trying to go in for another kiss. “Maybe.”

“Well then,” You pull away from him, fighting the smile that tries to work its way onto your face at the offended look George gives you. “I think I can fix that.”

Rolling off of him, you get up from the bed and grab one of George’s t-shirts from a stack near his bed, throwing it over your naked form. You start walking towards the door before you throw a glance over your shoulder at George, who’s laying in the bed and watching you with a soft look in his eyes.

“Well? Better go freshen up while I start on breakfast.” And with that you make your way out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, leaving George staring after you in shock.

It takes only a minute before George is scrambling out of the bed and hurrying into the bathroom, not daring to waste another moment that could be spent with you like this.

In the kitchen, you start cooking up the breakfast foods that you found in George’s fridge. You turn on the stove, prepping the bacon and eggs to be cooked.

George, now fully awake and feeling much better after freshening up in the bathroom, makes his way to the kitchen and freezes in the doorway at the sight in front of him.

There you are, swaying your hips back and forth to a silent tune as you stand at the stove cooking, wearing just his shirt. He crosses his arm and leans against the doorway, watching you flutter about his kitchen. The sight is overwhelmingly domestic - you in his clothes, in his kitchen, moving around like it’s your flat just as much as it is his. It makes his chest tight with the surge of adoration he feels looking at you.

He never wants to stop, and he will be damned if he lets this chance go.

“I think I could get used to this.”

You startle in place before turning around, finding George leaning against the doorframe in only a pair of sweatpants that hang low on his hips - his bare chest on full display. You swallow and quickly turn back to the food on the stove with a small smile on your face. 

“Could you, now?”

“Oh, yes.” George pushes off the doorframe and makes his way to stand behind you, where he wraps his arms around your body and places a tender kiss on the side of your head. “I definitely could.”

You smile and turn around in his arms so that you’re facing each other, bringing your arms up to wrap around his neck. Your fingers start running over the short hair at the back of his neck and George lets out a hum, leaning forward to rest his head against yours.

He smiles as he moves in, placing his lips on yours. The arms around your waist tighten their hold, and you pull his face closer to yours by the back of his neck. 

You drag your tongue across his bottom lip and his breath hitches as he pulls back smiling. The both of you stand there for what feels like hours - when in reality only seconds have passed - simply basking in the other’s affection. 

Resting his forehead on yours once more, George sighs happily,looking directly into your eyes as he breathes out your name, smile not wavering once. “Y/n.”

And with that one word, the way he says your name like it’s the best thing he’s ever heard, everything just stops. 

It’s you and him, just like it’s always been, but the air has changed, something has shifted. Neither of you are scared of this - of the feelings, of the possible consequences - you’re both sure of what you want, and now you both know that you’ve been wanting the same thing.

It’s you and George. Your George, George Daniel, your best friend in the entire world - and you are so very head over heels for him.

That doesn’t mean that you aren’t worried that you’re completely reading into all of it. It could have been a one night thing and he could want to go back to being best friends, but you are absolutely certain that you won’t ever be able to go back to the way things were.

You need him to say it.

“George, I don’t want to just be your best friend. I can’t be.” Your words pull the both of you out of the moment you had created and you watch as George’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“I thought we got past that last night?�� He pulls back slightly to get a better look at your face. Had last night not been enough for you to realize how he felt about you?

You let out a sigh. “I know, I just-”

“Y/n.” The way he says your name is stern, demanding of your complete attention. George pauses, steeling himself for what he’s about to say before taking a deep breath and continuing. “I’ve been in love with you for ages. We’ve never been just friends and I don't exactly want to start now. Not after last night. Not after I finally got what I’ve been wanting for as long as I can remember.”

Your jaw drops at his confession, bringing your hand to your chest to rest it there - as if to slow the racing of your heart and keep it from beating completely out of your chest. “You what?”

George doesn’t hesitate in his response, looking directly into your eyes as he speaks. “I love you. A ridiculous amount, actually.”

“George-” This can’t be real. No way he just said those three words that you’ve dreamt of falling from his lips. He loves you. He loves you.

He cuts you off. “You don’t have to say it back, that’s not why I said it-” His eyes scan over your features, trying to read your expression, “but god - please tell me last night meant something to you too, because I really don’t want this to be a one night thing and-”

You grab his face in your hands, cutting off his words and looking back into his eyes as you say those three words back. “I love you.”

The tension leaves his body, his eyes shining.“Wait, you-” 

You cut him off again. “I. Love. You.” You punctuate each word with a kiss before attaching your lips to his in a passionate kiss.

You cup his jaw as he brings a hand up to tangle in your hair, holding your face against his and pulling you closer to him by your waist.

The kiss is full of love and adoration, years worth of affection that was once suppressed is now spilling out -  showing itself through every look and every touch exchanged.

George is the first to pull away as he glances down and smiles. He brings his hand away from your hair and moves it to your neck, where he gives a slight tug on the gold necklace that you didn’t take off last night.

He looks up at you with so much love that you have a hard time breathing. You’re frozen in place, overwhelmed by the feeling in your chest that grows the longer you look at him. 

All of the silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting, it’s all led to this moment - and you’ve never been happier.

That is until George’s smile falls and his nose scrunches up. 

“Do you smell that?”

Oh my god the food.

“Shit!”

• • •

a/n: And that's a wrap! I hope you all enjoyed George and Darling as much as I did :)) I honestly had a lovely time working on this (minus the part where i lost 9k of it while i was writing and had to completely rewrite the last half) and im happy to have been able to share it with you. The lack of George fanfiction is devastating, especially as a team George truther (iykyk), and i am glad that i was able to contribute to the cause. Its been fun!! I'm going to go drown myself in holy water now, see you later &lt;3 xoxo - K

#george daniel #george daniel smut #george daniel x reader #george daniel x you #george daniel fic #team george #the 1975 #matty healy #ross macdonald #adam hann #i maybe have something else planned #but itll be a while #K's 1975

[tillthelandslide]

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)

#the 1975 fic #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 smut #the 1975 x reader #the 1975 imagine #the 1975 masterlist #matty healy fan fic #matty the 1975 #matty healy #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #ross the 1975 #ross macdonald #ross macdonald smut #ross mcdonald fanfic #ross macdonald x reader #george daniel fic #george daniel smut #george daniel x reader #george daniel #tillthelandslide the 1975 masterlist #same for you the 1975 series #insufferable arsehole matty healy series #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fic #matty healy fluff #matty healy imagine #adam hann #ross macdonald imagine

[werentwethestarsinheaven]

i’m your sun

george daniel x female reader

a/n: hi :) i don't really know what this is, but i guess it's sort of a continuation of this little thing i wrote yesterday. let me know what you think!

The crystalline water laps eagerly at the edge of the yacht, rippling on the barnacles that grip the fibreglass. The Amalfi sun seeps into you, leaving behind fresh freckles and pink tender skin. You lazily flip at the pages of a trashy romance novel, tossing it away and scoffing with annoyance when the Italian summer breeze tugs at your hair and sends it spiralling into your eyes.

George’s head perks up from where it lies in the crook between your thighs and your torso, carefully observing your change in mood, his bleached buzz cut tickling you. His slender fingers reach up to your forehead, fingerprints cold from the condensation that dripped off his icy glass of limoncello spritz. Coolness trails across your face, hair now gently tucked behind your ears. His touch keeps travelling, down your neck and into your sinking collarbone, his once cold touch now warm from your radiating skin. He hooks his fingers into the strap of your bikini top, toying and teasing, pulling lighty to reveal a harsh tan line that he attempts to soothe with soft caresses. The inked box on his thumb flexes as his hands continue to move lower, brushing over your breasts, his smirk deepening as he can feel your body tense. You expect him to keep moving, but he stops. The palm of his hand opening and pressing against your chest.

“Your heart is so warm, the sun’s too much angel, I think we need to to cool you down”, he murmers, brows furrowing with genuine concern.

“I’m fine,” you reassure, smiling at his overprotectiveness, holding his face with your hands and letting his stubble press into you.

“George, I’m fine I promise it’s not the sun,” you squeal, he ignores you as he picks you up, pulling you tight to his body. He stands at the edge of the yacht, eyes glistening with deviltry.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s not even the sun it’s you-” Your desperate pleas are cut off.

He’s plunged you both into the ocean, the sea water immersing your bodies and immediately cooling your burning skin. You both break the surface at the same time, cackles and shrieks filling the humid air as you scold him.

“Why did you do that? You could have killed me,” you giggle, playfully sending a splash of water towards him.

He leaps forward through the waves of water and grapples to your shoulders, pulling you into his embrace. His forehead rests against yours, you’re both panting, hearts beating quickly. The distance between you closes, you never know who pulls in during these moments. He would tease and say it was you, while you argue it was him, deep down knowing it’s always you. You don’t think he quite knows the effect he has over you.

You can still smell the countless cigarettes he chainsmoked on the yacht, as well as the sneaky joint he let you have a few puffs of. You can still feel the sticky sun cream he generously applied, somehow blissfully ignored by the sun as a pink tinge has now crept on the bridge of his nose. You can still taste the limoncello, now mixed with a slight tinge of the grapefruit lip gloss he picked out for you at the airport.

Your lips move against each other languidly, wet and soft and passionate. Your fingers are curled at the nape of his neck while his wisp away at your hips. Pulling him closer and closer to you until you can feel his heartbeat pressed against your pebbled nipples. You need him closer. Your legs are coiling together beneath the surface, goosebumps sending prickles shooting from your shaven skin. The water ripples around you as you slowly drag him down, breathing heavily and softly moaning.

It all happens so quickly, now you’re underwater again. Lips still moving together, saltwater gushing into your mouths. Your hold on him grows impossibly tighter, digging your nails into his neck to hold him in place. You don’t even realise how long you’re both under for. How hard you’re clawing into his flesh. How desperately you need him. Sizzling bubbles, the last remnants of oxygen, rise against your bodies as your souls intertwine. You feel like one entity.

Muffles of screaming and thrashing limbs, his fingers finally pry your grip off of his neck.

You break the surface. He weakly pulls you both back onto the boat. You’re no longer in his arms anymore. He’s gasping and coughing and yelling, bent over at the waist. Your knees are pulled to your chest, your body shivering despite the sweltering sun.

“What were you thinking? Why did you do that?”, he spits, turning his head to glare at you, “you could have killed us.” He bitterly repeats the same words you told him earlier.

You fight the salt that stings into your eyes. You can’t tell if it’s the ocean water or your tears. He’s never spoken to you like this. You don’t know what to say. You yourself don’t even know what you were thinking.

“I want you to need me George,” you splutter, holding back coughs as sea water burns at the back of your throat.

“What are you even talking about? Why the fuck did you do that?” he hisses again, confusion and anger still flooding his eyes.

This time you don’t answer.

He just doesn’t understand. You want to be the barnacles that suction onto his body. You want to be the UV rays that burn and make the melanin in his cells scream. You want to be the one to splatter freckles onto his back. You want to be the salt that stings his eyes. You want to be his oxygen and his life.

He’s not allowed to breathe without you.

You want him to need you.

You don’t realise how long you’ve been sat there for. The wooden planks of your rented yacht imprinting it’s patterns into the flesh of your thighs. The sun is saying her last goodbyes, kissing the apples of your tear stained cheeks with an orange glow before sending the moon to glimmer in her place. It seems like George has left long ago, the half empty bottle of limoncello and the neat charcuterie board he delicately fed you earlier packed away and taken with him.

By the time you return to the villa you can tell George is already in bed. He left the door unlocked, the light by the entryway sends a flicker of warmth through eternal darkness.

You trudge through the villa quietly to not make a sound. A trail of your bikini and old sandals and a stolen button up of George’s is left behind you down the hallway. He lies in bed, his bare back illuminated in moonlight and facing away from the door, away from you. Your naked body is caked in salt and sweat and tears. You’re too exhausted to care. Climbing into bed, the ruffle of linen sheets cuts through the uncomfortable silence. You know he’s awake, you can tell by the way his breathing is unevenly paced. That, and you know he can never sleep without you in his arms.

You bring your hand to his back, tracing your fingers softly across his skin, admiring the constellations the sun has branded into him as freckles. You feel jealous of the sun, you wish to somehow eternalise yourself into his body too. Your eyes fall upon the back of his neck. The small crescent shaped indentations from your nails from today have faintly scarred. You reach up to kiss the little moons. You turn over, facing away from him, letting the everlasting flow of tears dampen your pillow.

He’s a barnacle that clings to your mind, the salt that stings your soul, the oxygen that courses through your veins.

Your silent sobs shake the bed, fighting with the movement of the mattress that sinks and rises as he tosses and turns. It feels like an eternity you lie there for. And then you feel it.

His lips press against your shoulder, arms wrapping around your torso. He pulls your soul into the crook of his body that is shaped like you. He sighs contently.

“I do need you my angel,” he whispers, lips brushing on your back. His open palm reaches for your chest.

“I’m your sun.”

#george daniel #george daniel fic #george daniel x reader #george daniel imagine #george daniel smut #the 1975 #the 1975 fic #matty healy

[drivelikeiido]

sleeping on the job

you fall asleep on george in the late hours in the studio

george daniel x reader word count: 936

warnings: none? just the author struggling to write george i'm afraid and my typical romantic fluff

notes: "for george fluff... gf falls asleep on him at the mixing desk while he's producing and he just sits there with her on his lap and continues working occasionally kissing her head 😭😭 and maybe matty is just watching it happen like "this is the cutest thing i have ever seen but my god you're down bad"”

tysm for the idea anon! i really really loved it and definitely didn't do it justice i'm sorry but here it is anyways lmao. this is my first time writing for george and i feel like it's so wrong even though there's not much dialogue, anyways i tried and only ever will improve so here we are !

Synthetic beats boom lowly from the headphones that rest on George’s head. He’s multitasking; with one ear covered and listening intently to the music he and Matty had been working on all afternoon, the other exposed, allowing him to stay in tune with the quiet breaths that rise from your sleeping form. 

You had originally arrived that afternoon to keep Matty and George company while they work on post-production in the studio, none of you having the intention to stay this late but all of you agreeing that what the boys were working on was too good to leave, George’s phone now reading “01:58” as it lights up on the desk next to him. Matty had disappeared for a “cig and a coffee” as he put it, around ten minutes ago, leaving you and your boyfriend to sit alone and cosy in the creative air that seemed to burst from the studio.

You had began the afternoon by sitting on the chair next to George while he worked, occasionally leaning your head to rest on his muscled shoulder but as he began to notice your tired state as the hours went by he encouraged you to lie across him, assuring you it would actually be beneficial to his work if you rested your head on his lap as you snoozed, whether you believed this claim or not you quickly obliged, not wanting to have to leave him.

That’s how you came to be napping quietly below his working fingers, allowing you your precious sleep where George can keep a watchful eye on you. Before Matty had left the room and before George’s offer of sleep became too good of an opportunity to miss, Matty had promised you a cup of coffee, but it soon paled in comparison to the warm comfort George’s body provides, therefore your motivation to stay awake is forgotten as you opt to give into the perfect sleep your boyfriend’s lap promised, despite the awkward makeshift position. 

The drummer was fully absorbed in his work, wanting to get the production on this album perfect as he carefully listens and mixes the tracks on the monitor, the signature sound and the potential of the upcoming album swimming around his ears. His eyes tear away from the mixing desk long enough to notice your eyelids begin to flutter as you stir in your sleep below him. The last thing he wants to see is you disturbed so he, albeit awkwardly, leans down and drops a kiss to your head, mumbling in that mesmerizingly deep voice of his, “‘s alright darlin’, go back to sleep”. This loving encouragement seems to work like magic, you mumbling something resembling a “mhmm” before returning to your state of dreaming. Seeing how quick you comply to him has him cracking a tired smile. He leans back in his chair and closes his eyes, a dangerous game considering the late hour and the current lack of caffeine and nicotine in his system, the urge to join you in your sleep becoming a growing temptation. His fingers absentmindedly find their way to your head and leave a whisper of touch radiating through your entire body as he ever so gently runs his large hands through your hair, working as a grounding force for him while he contemplates the music booming in his ears.

From the doorway Matty silently appreciates this sight in front of him, not wanting to disturb the cute couple just yet. Seeing his friend so satisfied with his work and with his lover and knowing how at peace he finally is brings a smile to the singer’s face. However his silence and the bubble of tranquillity that currently shelters you and your boyfriend is cut short as the coffee mugs in Matty’s hand begin to burn, “Christ man, take one of these from me, they’re hot as fuck”. 

Although annoyed at his friend’s loud obtrusion, George reluctantly obliges and reaches out his hand for a mug swimming with the studio’s rather awful instant coffee, although despite its taste it always did its job. Once, apparently all lethal mugs, are set down on the desk he leans his head down to check on your somehow undisturbed sleeping state, breathing out a tiny sigh of relief to see you still snuggled up against him. His dark affectionate eyes run over your form quickly, the sight doing more to warm him than any coffee ever could. 

“Wake her up man, I made that coffee don’t let it go to waste” Matty teases, with no real intentions to actually disturb you, or your boyfriend for that matter. George’s response is a simple whispered “Piss off” which works to make the frontman giggle but ultimately quit his pursuit to wake you. The sight of his best friend being so caring and vulnerable makes him feel incredibly proud of how far they've all come, he doesn't choose to voice this however, instead breathing out a humorous “You’re down bad man”, to which George too laughs out “I know”, his tired eyes twinkling with contentment and not bothering to even look at his friend, instead choosing to stare down at you a little longer, although all the time in the world would not be enough to fully appreciate you - this he has told you many times before as you’ve been tangled in bedsheets in the soft glow of the mornings. The songs and the upcoming album in front of him are momentarily forgotten as his mind now whirls with thoughts of you and wondering how he got to be so lucky. “But it’s worth it”.

#i hate this i’m sorry #i tried and edited it sm but just couldn’t come up with better i struggled #george daniel #george daniel x reader #george daniel fic #the 1975 x reader #the 1975 fic #matty healy x reader #matty healy fic #k!'s fics

[love4agesss]

feeling normal (lying through my teeth rn)

#george daniel #ross macdonald #the 1975 #matty healy #satvb #the 1975 satvb #adam hann #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy x reader #matty healy fic #george daniel fanfiction #george daniel fic #charli xcx

[butyou-callmewhenyourebored]

Reading & Leeds AU Imagine

Summary: You meet four teenage lads at Leeds Fest in 2007 who change your life forever.

Warnings: Swearing. Vulgar language. Small shite section of smut. One use of y/n near the end. I nearly used my own name but then you can just imagine your own x

Author's Note: Here is the Leeds Fest AU that I've been going on about since the idea popped into my head the morning after I went to Leeds nearly two months ago. I don't think it's very good, definitely not my best work but it's finished I don't have to think about it anymore! But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Now got to find motivation to finish my other WIPS that I've abandoned!

Word Count: 6.4K Words

You thought you knew what proud was; there were many moments in your life that you could recall where you felt immense proudness for the four men that made up your best friends. The day they rang you to tell you they had signed their record deal, the day their first EP was released, the day their debut album went to number one, when they sold out Madison Square Garden, the day they first played Reading and Leeds, the first time they headlined Reading and Leeds. The list was endless.

But there was something about the way you felt today that surpassed all of that. Here you were at the side of the main stage at Leeds Festival about to watch your boys headline the festival that started it all. The 1975 was ringing out across the field, the kids were screaming and your heart was hammering in your chest in time with George’s drums as he kicked off The City to the delight of the crowd.

A celebration of the album that they dreamed of making when you met them. A celebration of the album that soundtracked not only the lives of their fans but yours and theirs too. A celebration of the band and every beautiful thing they had achieved in the past ten years surrounded by those they loved and those who loved them the most.

You had told Matty that you were unsure you’d make it today due to a work situation that had popped up which had sent him into a tizzy this morning because you had never missed a performance of theirs at Leeds, despite being at Reading with them just the night before but you couldn’t cancel this important meeting in London called by your manager late last night when you returned from Reading and you weren’t sure if you’d make it in time to see them back up North.

“But you have to be there darling. This is our thing!”He had huffed, as you reached for him and pulling him into your arms as you went to say goodbye.“Leeds is ours! Not Reading. Leeds! You have to be there.” He huffed.

He made your heart hurt as his lip quivered as he watched you hug the other boys and the thought of him being upset made you even more determined to make sure you were side of that stage in time for the opening bars of The City.

You watched as he ran about the stage, singing his little heart out. The kids screaming the words to The City back at the band. George had already sent you a smirk from his seat behind the box knowing fine well Matty would lose his shit when he clocked eyes on you. You looked out towards the audience; the excitement on their faces as they sung every word before turning to look back at your boys. Your hand immediately reaching to touch  your box tattoo that sat on your thumb (matching with your friend behind the drum kit) as your heart soared with happiness for them. 

When you looked up you found Ross with his eyes on you. A soft smile on his handsome face, your eyes locked on to one another for a brief moment that was abruptly interrupted by the roar of applause from the fans when the first song came to an end. 

Bringing your hands to your mouth you cheered as loudly as you could; your laugh a sound Matty would recognise anywhere had him snapping his head in your direction. The moment he clapped eyes on you; he was beaming! His eyes bright and his smile even brighter knowing his best friend had made it. Pointing at you with a cheeky grin, he pulled the mic to his mouth quickly so you could hear him.

“Fucking knew you’d make it darling! This one is for you!” He announced as the intro to M.O.N.E.Y (one of your favourites) started up to more roars of noise.  

2007

Leeds Festival was directly sewn into the DNA of your friendship with the group of teenage boys who went on to be the band The 1975. Having being the place you had met all those many moons ago when headlining the festival was only a dream for them. Now they were about to headline the festival for the third time in four years and proud didn’t even cut it for how you felt for those boys.

You weren’t sure how your life would have turned out if you hadn’t met them the summer of 2007 or if you had simply set up your tent next to somebody else but you were forever grateful for your cousin and “friends" (at the time) for dragging you along because your life was enriched in every aspect because of them.

Trekking through the fields to find your camp sight was proving difficult when your cousin and his mates were pissing about and collectively had about two braincells between them. So you took it upon yourself to march ahead and find the nearest available space and dumping your tent and rucksack on the ground to reserve the spot.

“Oi dickheads! Over here!” You shouted towards the direction of your idiot cousin.

Waiting for him; his two mates and the girlfriends of said friends, who I guess you could call your friends too to make their way over. You took a look around at your neighbours for the next four days. Next to you was a group of teenage boys who were setting up their tents, the one setting up their little camping stove looked up at you at your outburst. God he was pretty you thought as you took in his casual appearance.

“You mind if we grab this spot?”

“Not at all love. Matty.” He held out his hand as he introduced himself.

Shaking his hand; you introduced yourself with a polite smile before shimmying your tent out of it’s bag as your cousin and his pals all appeared, dumped their stuff on the floor before announcing they were going to explore. Therefore leaving you to look after their shit and to attempt to put up your tent by yourself. After ten minutes, several failed attempts and numerous curses towards your absent cousin when the rest of your neighbours appeared.

The tall, dark and handsome one introduced himself first.

“Hi, I’m Ross. You need a hand with that?” 

When you turned to look at him; he was wearing jeans and a hoodie and a soft smile on his face. Nodding at his offer, you explained about your useless cousin and that you didn’t have great hopes for the weekend given that he had already fucked off.

“Don’t worry you can chill with us. They’re pretty useless too but we get by!” He chuckled; nodding in the direction of his mates. “That’s Adam, but we call him Hann and that’s George.” He grinned as you waved at his equally cute mates.

It was as simple as that. You barely spoke to your cousin that weekend. Just let your friendly neighbours cart you around the festival, getting drunk with them and letting them hoist you up on their shoulders as you watched multiple acts that weekend. During your down time, you sat around the campfire and got to know one another. You found out they were from not far from you in Manchester, they were all around the same age, they were all single apart from Hann. And they found out that you really did hate your cousin’s mates and you were newly single after your boyfriend of two years cheated on you and that you were hoping to go to uni to study music.

Giddily telling you that they were all in a band together as you revealed this information; you listened to Matty ramble on about what he wanted to do with his best friends and where he wanted the band to go in terms of their career and you couldn’t help but watch him earnestly as he spoke so passionately about it. Leaning on your knees; you rested your face in the palm of your hands as you listened intently, wrapped up in the jumper Ross had leant you as the evening grew cold with a smile on your face.

It was refreshing to listen to a teenage boy talk with so much passion about something instead whatever shit your cousin and his mates were chatting shite about, you couldn’t even stand to converse with the girlfriends it was that bad. You think you’d have let him pull you around this muddy park and talk your ear off all night that’s how much you enjoyed his company.

The last night of the festival; off the back of the giddiness of watching the Red Hot Chilli Peppers with the boys and screaming your favourite lyrics back at the band from your spot upon George’s shoulders. You giddily jumped into Matty’s arms when you dismounted the drummer and let him slip his hand in yours as you all made your way back towards your campsite.

You lost the rest of the boys at some point within the masses of people; so you took your time making your way back, swinging your arms between one another and spinning each other round. You were so happy! You arrived three days ago in a bit of a mood if you were being honest that your brother hadn’t been able to come with you and you were stuck with those imbeciles but the boys in your neighbouring tents truly had made your entire experience worth it.

So when Matty pulled you to a stop as you neared your respective tents; George’s laugh could be heard from where you had stopped and swept a piece of fallen hair behind your ear before cupping your cheek in his hand with a soft mutter of, “You’re so fucking beautiful.” Before leaning down and closing the gap between the two of you. You melted into him.

When his lips connected with yours; you immediately reciprocated his actions, allowing him to pull you in close and kiss you like you were the air he needed to breath. You weren’t entirely sure how long you were kissing in the middle of the campsite though but you pulled away giggling, beaming brightly when you saw Matty grinning back at you. Feeling brave you pushed yourself up to peck his lips again before pulling him towards your destination, past all his friends who were hooted and hollered when they caught onto to where you guys were off to but you didn’t care because you wanted reckless, you wanted to feel something, you wanted fun.

And ohhhh was Matty fun!

He was gentle in the way he brushed your hair from your face as you kissed down his stomach before pulling his already hard cock out. His grip tight in holding your hair in a ponytail so it was away from your face as you kissed the tip before licking a stripe underneath all the way from his balls until you enveloped the tip in your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks you took him in as he groaned underneath you, his moans encouraging you to continue as you let him continuously hit the back of your throat.

It wasn’t long before his grip tightened in your hair and he was cumming in your mouth; swallowing everything he gave you, you pulled off his cock with a pop before he was attacking your mouth with his own as he dived on top of you.

“God going to be thinking about your mouth for years sweetheart.” He mumbled against your skin before returning the favour.

2013

It had been a good several years since your last visit to Leeds Festival but thankfully it hadn’t been that long since you last saw the boys you met in the neighbouring tent during your first time there. After you packed up your tents the next morning you vowed to stay in touch with them, exchanging numbers with all the boys and promises of drinks when you were both home etc not really expecting much of it because they were teenage boys.

A hour after you returned home, your phone buzzed as messages flooded your inbox from Matty and George, Ross & Adam respectively although they weren’t as persistent as Matthew. You met up with Matty the next weekend, he drove up to see you in Manchester and you made out in the back of his car like the horny teenagers you were. You never slept with Matty during your brief time together but you both got very acquainted with one another on the couple of occasions you did meet up alone.

It wasn’t long after that you decided you were better off as friends and you didn’t mix business with pleasure again! Much to Matty’s disappoint after all he was a man and they only think with their cocks anyway. You continued being friends, you went to their gigs (even when you were the only one there), they visited you at uni, they celebrated your first big writing gig, you celebrated the release of their EPs. You celebrated everything together no matter how big or small.

You truly were the best of friends so when they rang you one afternoon whilst you were in the studio writing, you couldn’t even get out a “Guys you’re on a speaker, I’m just in the studio” before they were all screaming down the phone about their news that they had been asked to play at Leeds.

“That’s fucking insane! I’m so proud of you. Congratulations!”  

“You have to be there babe! We can’t do this without you!” Matty screamed down the phone.

“Yeah we can’t play Leeds without our number one girl can we?” Ross’ voice could be heard next, at a normal decibel, obviously.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Is what you told them and you stuck to your word as you watched Matty pace nervously before they were about to step onstage to a large crowd of people eager to see them perform.

“Matty.” You called out for him as he chewed his thumb nail, ignoring you. “Matthew!” You  raised your voice loud enough to get his attention finally on you, “What’s wrong with you? You’ve been buzzing all week to finally perform at Leeds. What’s changed?”

“Nervous.”

Your heart stopped as you took your friend’s nervous appearance in as you stopped in front of him and grabbing both his hands in your own. “I’ve never known you to be nervous ever. These people are here to see you, they’ve chosen you over any other tent or stage. They want to see my four best friends because you’re fucking brilliant, okay?” You told him firmly, squeezing his hands supportively, hoping to get through to him.

“Okay.” He smiled softly at you.

“Now what can I do to help with these nerves of yours?”

You asked innocently (of course) but Matty’s eyes lit up; a smirk dancing across his pretty features before lowing his gaze to his crotch. Pulling your hands from his in disgust you looked at him disapprovingly. “Eww gross. I’m not blowing you!”

“Baby please.” He whined; nipping at your waist as he attempted to pull your body into his own and holding you against him.

Looking over your shoulder; you cast glance at the other boys who were watching the interaction. Hann rolled his eyes at you, Ross was shaking his head as he sunk back his beer. George merely smirked; shrugging his shoulders as if to say it wasn’t a bad idea.

“If it takes care of the nerves.” George spoke.

“Ohh I’ll blow all of you then shall I?” You sassed back.

“If you’re offering?” George grinned.

“G don’t be fucking gross. I’m not touching any of you!” You laughed shortly. “Just do some tequila and get out there before I leave before you get the chance to even pick up a pair of drumsticks!”  You threatened.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stood side of stage and watched as the boys were belting out the tunes to an enthusiastically drunk crowd who were loving life. Ross turned to look at you during chocolate; a look of pure disbelief that the hundreds strong crowd knew every single word. You shook your head with a chuckle, teary eyes and a bright smile because you absolutely could believe they would know every single word because your boys were fucking brilliant and they deserved every single second of it.

As the set came to a close to a rapturous applause; Matty turned to catch your eye with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen before running towards you and jumping into your arms and gripping you so tight, you thought you’d be catapulted backwards if it wasn’t for Ross holding on to both of you. A high squeal leaving your lips as Matty assaulted your face with kisses like an excited puppy dog before pressing his lips to your own. 

You were so proud of him you didn’t have it in you to scold him for it.

2019

The noise that came out of your mouth when the boys told you they had been asked to headline Leeds Fest 2019 can only be described as unhinged! Probably wishing they had told you over face time, Adam the unlucky sod who happened to be stood next to you the moment you found out and nearly had his arm ripped out the socket as you jumped up and down with pure excitement before pulling him into the biggest hug you could muster before jumping a top of George and pressing a lingering kiss to Ross’ cheek before you launched yourself at Matty and squeezing him so tight like it would be the last thing you ever did.

You partied hard that night, celebrating everything they had achieved in order to get to headlining that one place that you all held so dear to your hearts. They say people hold sentimental places that remind you of loved ones close to them, it just so happened that; that muddy field just outside of Leeds was what meant the most to the five of you because it’s where you found one another. It’s where you finally felt whole once they stumbled into your life.

So when Matty drunkly proclaimed “We’ve got to have you with us sweetheart! It’s tradition. You’re our good luck charm!” Loudly down your ear, whilst draping himself over your shoulder in an attempt to stay standing.

Not that you would say no but who were you to ever deny your best friend’s wishes. Especially when they were finally getting to do the one thing they told you they wanted to do together when you first met them all those years ago and the fact they wanted you by their side meant more than anything. 

And here you were backstage at Leeds fest waiting for your best friends in the entire world to go and blow the socks off the festival. You were stood next to Matty who was fidgeting so much it was starting to concern you how nervous he actually was about the headlining slot. Slipping your spare hand into his; your other was wrapped around Ross’ as he conversed with Hann, you pulled away from the bassist so you could talk with the singer more privately.

Pulling Matty away from their crew; you took his hand softly, rubbing your thumb back and forth across the back of it in hopes of soothing his nerves. Matty didn’t say a word but he couldn’t stand still. You pulled on his hand tighter and towards you so you were in each other’s personal space.

“Darling what’s wrong?”

“Just fucking nervous. A lot of people out there.” His nervous chuckle reaching your ears before he started chewing on his thumb nail. 

Slapping his hand away from his mouth, you pulled on both of his hands tightly and made sure that he was looking right at you as spoke.

“When has that ever stopped you going out their and being brilliant before, ehh? You have wanted this for so so long. For as long as I’ve known you. You deserve this so much babe, more than anyone else I know. Do you want to know a little secret?” You watched his curls bounce as he nodded at your words. “When I met you, you told me all about your plans for the band. Told me you were going to headline Leeds Fest one day and in that moment I knew that I liked the shit of you! Thought it was so hot that you were so driven and so passionate about something. And look at you now. Three number one albums. Biggest band in the world and about to do the one thing you told me you were going do when we met twelve years ago. All those people out there choose to come and see you because they love you. I love you.”

“You think I’m hot?”

“That’s what you took from that?” You rolled your eyes.

“It’s what I do best!” He shrugged; pulling you into his arms. “So you going to blow me after this too?” He whispered saying in your ear; as he hugged you tightly.

“You’re so fucking annoying!” You pulled out of his embrace, “You’d be fucking lucky Healy! I’m more likely to blow Hann than you again babe!” You threw him a smirk; so he knew you were joking about his best mate.

“Wait, who’s blowing Hann?” George asked; appearing with Ross and Hann with what could only be impeccable timing.

“Me! Told Healy I’m more likely to blow Hann after your performance than go near his cock again!” You told them casually with a shrug and throwing Adam a wink as the guitarist shook his head with an embarrassed chuckle. “Just a little pep talk and Matthew was being Matthew about the situation!”

“Well if you’re offering up blowies! I’m always down!” George threw his hand up like he was volunteering with a massive grin on his face as he nudged Adam in the ribs who also had a stupidly large grin on his face as they teased you.

“You’re all so fucking annoying which is why the only person I’d be considering to blow is Ross because currently he’s the only one with manners! Now fuck off and blow the socks off the fans!”  You grinned; shoving them in the direction of the stage. Throwing your own arm around Ross’ waist, Matthew’s around your own as you all ascended on the stage, your heart pounding as you watched them walk out to rapturous applause. The feral screams growing louder between each song and you knew that you had never been prouder of anyone in your life than your best friend’s living their dreams.

2023

You had never loved George Daniel more than the day he turned round and introduced you to his new girlfriend because you gained a best for life in the absolutely wonderful and insanely beautiful Charli XCX. You loved her plain and simple! Never was a more selfless girl; you needed anything and she was by your side and offering you her hand, you needed a hype man she was the girl for the job or you just needed a little retail therapy and a bottle of wine, Charli would be at your door ready to go so when it was announced that she was going to be playing Leeds Festival just as the boys were about to embark on their new era. You knew you would be by her side cheering her on and going an absolute feral for that babe of woman! And when the boys were announced as the replacement headliners you could have burst!

Charli was set to perform her set just before the lads were so you knew your evening was going to be chaotic but you couldn’t wait but when she asked you to be by her side and during your favourite song. As flabbergasted as you were by the offer, you couldn’t really say no. When would you ever get the chance to perform at Leeds Festival again? Never!

But it was the way your best friends eyed you from side of stage; clad in an identical leather outfit to Charli’s that left nothing to the imagination. You felt a large calloused hand weave it’s way into your own and squeeze tightly, whispering a soft; “You’ve got this darling.” Before pressing a kiss to your temple just as Charli announced your entrance just as Rina’s verse of Beg For You was about to start.

“I want to introduce you to my best friend to the stage for the next song. She’s a bit shy so please be nice but she’s fucking incredible. Welcome to the stage y/n!”

What happened after you stepped on stage was all some sort of blur, you couldn’t really remember all that much apart from the video that Matty (and the rest of the band) recorded of you from the side of stage, the boys all screaming as you ran off stage and jumping into the nearest pair of arms, which just so happened to be Ross’. The adrenaline that coursed through you then seeped into watching the boys’ set and into the after party. Where you and Charli were necking back the tequila like it was water and had you dancing on the tables and grinding on anyone you could get your hands on. 

Nobody was safe from you and Charli’s feral behaviour that evening as you celebrated your friend’s wins and that included your best friend who you had taken to making out with, pulling him into a several kisses that seemed to get more erotic as the night went on much to the shock and then immediate thrill of your friends as they squealed and cheered on your behaviour every single time like you weren’t potentially jeopardising fifteen years of friendship with Ross just because you were on a high and feeling a little giddy. 

You were also a woman with eyes!

Something nobody was doing the morning after as you all travelled back to London with your tail between your legs and pounding headaches. Attempting to sleep it off on the drive home, you rested your head against Hann’s shoulder and tried to block out Matty’s talking, something that you were usually quite good at but to no avail when you felt like you were in about to slip into a tequila induced coma. 

By the time you got back to London and to your respective locations; you felt yourself being nudged awake before being gently pulled away from Hann who sweetly pressed a kiss to the crown of your head as Ross got out of the van before pulling you sleepily into your apartment building. No words were exchanged between the two of you as he unlocked your shared apartment or whilst he made you both a cuppa. You couldn’t decide if it was because he was just as horrifically hungover as you or because of what transpired between the two of you the night before and didn’t know how to act around you now because you had well and truly fucked everything up.

You never spoke about it. Just carried on as normal just as you and Matty did fifteen years prior and you thought you had done a pretty good job at acting normal too. You carried on sharing your flat and cohabiting as if it didn’t happen and then he went off to America for the start of At Their Very Best. Then once you were reunited on his return home from tour you thought that everything would be fine but it seemed that your emotions or seemingly your hormones were supercharged and all the lingering touches and sweet exchanges that usually came with your relationship had all come to a head about two weeks before they were due to headline Leeds fest again.

Whilst the boys had been on tour and doing the festival circuit during the summer you had taken to dating again. You use the term dating very loosely you had been on a handful of dates with one guy, a producer friend of Charli’s. It had been a few weeks since you had seen him due to the busy nature of your careers but you were supposed to be heading on another date with him tomorrow and you were ready to take it to the next level. 

Stood in front of your full length mirror you admired the intricate white lace of the lingerie that donned your tanned skin wondering if Patrick would like it or not when your bedroom door burst open. Not hearing his heavy footsteps approach as you stood in next to nothing; you jumped in fright, as an also topless Ross was now looking at you with a startled expression on his handsome face.

“Babe have you seen my favourite ju … jumper” He stuttered as he stopped and drunk in your appearance. “Ehhh why are you? Why ehhh? I mean why?” He was gesturing towards your lingerie clad body.

“I have a date tomorrow.” Your voice quiet but Ross heard it; your eyes just as wide as his when you took in his own appearance. Grey joggers, bare chest, hair tied up in a bun and the bastard cursive tattoo of your initial, that still makes your stomach flip every time you see it, etched into the skin near his left collarbone.

Ross simply nodded in response, not knowing what else to say. Noting that as his eyes travelled up your legs, over the tiny bit of delicate fabric that was covering your modesty, up to how your tits sat gloriously in the white lace, he noticed it. He noticed as you stood in the best set of lingerie he’d ever seen on anyone ever, that right there balancing in between your tits on a dainty gold chain was the necklace with a small ‘R’ on it. 

Without another word said between the pair of you; he turned with a curt nod of his head without getting his answer knowing fine well that it would be somewhere in your room. But he had plenty of other jumpers he could wear. He just needed to just get out of there before he made a tit of himself. Heading straight back to his room across the hall, he paced his bedroom floor in hopes of getting the image of you stood in your underwear out of his head before he got a problem, not knowing that across the hall you were staring at his retreating figure unsure of what to do.

Picking up your phone you sent an apologetic text to Patrick to let him know the date was cancelled before chucking your phone amongst your pillows and marching across the hallway. Just as you reached up your arm to knock; Ross’ bedroom door was ripped off its hinges and stalling you, both of your chests heaving as you came face to face. Neither of you choosing to cover yourselves up in the moments you were apart.

Looking up at him; you caught sight of the gold chain he’d been wearing recently sitting against the chest hair that littered his toned chest before your eyes drifted to the left. Your heart tripling in speed knowing you were etched on his skin forever. Ross’s eyes immediately went back to your tits, not in a weird way even if they did look glorious in the white lace but the golden ‘R’ that sat between them.

Returning your gaze to his face; you weren’t entirely sure how long you were staring at each other before you surged towards one another in a flurry of pent up tension as you pawed at one another. Your hands immediately gripping at his hair at the nape of his neck, causing him to groan into your mouth. His hands gripping your ass as he pulls you flushed against him. Your mouths pressed together as you snogged like it was the last thing you guys would ever do before Ross was slamming his bedroom door and throwing you on the bed and staring at you like you were the best thing he had ever seen. And you were.

Your night of passion with Ross happened two weeks ago and whilst he had gone back to work leaving you at home and to do your own job. You hadn’t stopped thinking about it. It was affecting your studio time and you didn’t quite know what to do with yourself. You brushed past one another briefly whilst he nipped home to quickly put a wash on in between packing again before heading to Reading and Leeds. But you didn’t speak to one another in the van on the way down. Opting to talk with George about a new track idea he had been thinking about and he wanted your opinion on how to set it up lyrically.

When you got to Reading. The boys were rushed off for a quick sound check whilst you milled about backstage, getting drinks and greeting over artists you knew from work so you didn’t really get the chance to to talk to him. Then they were on stage. Then it was the after party. Then you were hungover and telling a sad looking Matty that you weren’t sure you could make it due to a work thing and sending them all on their way as you tried not to cry at the sadness in your best friend’s eyes as he looked at you like a sad puppy from the car window with pout on his face.

As you were sat in your meeting about an important contract working with an incredible artist on her next album. You caught yourself completely zoned out and thinking about him again. Over the course of all the the times you found yourself thinking about your night with Ross over the past week; you tried to figure out if it was because it was just because the tension had finally snapped with living under close quarters again after your multiple kisses or because it quite literally the best sex you’ve ever had or because under all of that, it was your Ross.

Your Ross. Your sweet best friend who helped you out any and every situation that you found yourself in, the person who hyped you up and celebrated your wins with you, the person who surprised you with your initial tattooed onto his skin because he just loved you so much he wanted you with him forever. Who then turned round and told you he never wanted you to feel pressured to do the same so gifted you the most beautiful gold necklace with his own on, you’ve never taken it off.

The person who when he come home from tour; buys you flowers as a welcome home surprise and displays them on your dining room table. The person who buys you little nicknacks when he’s abroad because it reminds him of you and thinks you’d love it. As you let your brain mull over this information whilst your manager went over the boring bits of the deal, you realised he was your person and you needed to get Leeds and you needed to get up North to him now. Pulling the ‘emergency’ card, you left your manger to to take any important notes and you darted out of the building, texting your driver to meet you out the front asap before you were speeding out of London and heading to the place that started it all.

You raced up North to get to the festival and just about managing to get there in one piece. Flinging your weekend bag in their green room; you went to run back out when something caught your eye, Ross’ hoodie from the last night. Pulling it over your head; a complete dress on you and covering your own outfit, you quickly untucked you necklace so it proudly displayed on top, you ran towards the main stage as you heard end of your song as George’s launched into to The City. You had just about made it; as you weaved in and out of the crowds of people to get to the side of stage at lightening speed.

Squeezing through the bodies of the crew who were littered backstage you fell into step with Jamie who was filming the boys. Their manager quickly wrapped you up in a side hug with a large grin and a happy “Glad you could make it!” Before turning his attention back to the band.

George was the first person to notice you, sending you a quick wink as you blew him a kiss with a beaming smile. Ross was the next person to spot you; his eyes softening as he took in your appearance before Matty was excitedly shouting you out.

“Fucking knew you’d make it darling! This one is for you!” He announced as the intro to M.O.N.E.Y started up to more roars of noise.

It might have been pure accidental that you ended up next to a rowdy group of teenage boys on that August weekend in 2007. But my god are you happy you did! Not because they were the biggest band in the world but because the five of you had seen every single one of your wins and your losses, they championed you on every new endeavour and had your back through thick and thin. You didn’t care about Matty writing songs about your blowjob skills because you were happily screaming the words back to him now. You cared that he was happy, that they all were and they knew they were fucking loved.

Which you finally realised you did. You fucking loved your best friend and as Ross turned to look at you whilst doing his little two step whilst Matty serenaded the crowd with I’m in Love with You, he really took in your appearance. Thigh high boots and his black hoodie he wore to Reading last night that covered you like a dress and the bastard golden R that was sitting over the top of the neck of the jumper, your hand pressed over the top as you made eye contact with him and beaming brightly at him, he felt his heart skip and triple in speed. He needed to tell you and he needed to tell you now.

So the second About You finished and he had said goodbye to the crowd. He was throwing his bass at Joel and was marching straight towards you, grabbing you by the jaw and smashing his mouth against your own. Melting into his touch you kissed the bassist back as the rest of friends joined you.

“I love you.”  Ross breathed out in between kisses.

“Ohhh thank fuck because I really fucking love you too!”  You told him; pulling him back to your lips as you gripped on to hair at the bottom of his bun tightly as your boys hollered around you.

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