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kennedy-brooke · 9 months

Text

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 <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

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grocerystorelist · 2 months

Text

night, midnight, lose my mind – george daniel

a stranger lights your cigarette outside the club, setting something else in you aflame. what follows could burn you down with it. inspired by this from @toomuchracket <3

minors dni. dom/sub, lots of d word, unprotected sex, overstimulation, choking, breeding a bit (not sure where that came from) and way too much possessiveness for a hookup

wc: 3632 thank u @think0fmehigh for reading this over and finding me the 2nd pic!! ok enjoy everyone <3

You lean against the brick outside the club, cold biting through the back of your jacket. A few people are milling about and chatting, smoke clouding the air. Beside you is a man with buzzed bleached hair, jawline cutting through the chill of the night as he takes a drag from his cigarette. He stares down the street, seemingly fixated on something in the haze, and you bite the urge to shuffle closer to him, to ask him what’s on his mind. Rolling your ankle, you let out a content sigh as you slide down the wall, digging for the lighter in your pocket. After a few flicks, you frown. It’s not working.

The man tilts his head down. “Hey,” he says. You look up. He nods his head towards the lighter in his hand, holding out a hand to help you up. “Need a light?” You accept it gratefully, hoisting yourself up. You fumble out the pack from your pocket, hanging one from your lips as you slide closer to him. He raises his eyebrow as he holds up the flame. It’s a challenge. Another step closer, and you can feel the heat of his breath on your cheek as you dip your head to touch your cigarette to the light. He smells like whiskey and his own cigarettes, and you slip under his outstretched arm to lean against him as you inhale the first lungful of peace.

The muscles of his arm flex around you, the quiet display of strength renewing the blush on your cheeks. The two of you smoke in silence, but you swear you can feel the burn of his gaze on your face as you look resolutely ahead, unwilling to betray just how hot you think he is. A huff of air ghosts over you, and you snap, bringing your head up, staring at his lips.

“Let me kiss you,” you breathe. A beat. He groans and snakes an arm around you, pulling you into his body, pink lips crashing into yours. He takes a step to cage you into the wall, a broad hand rising to cushion your head from the brick, to press you further into his embrace. He kisses hungrily, and you wind your arms around his neck as his other hand travels up your leg to grab your ass, pushing and hitching you up. Dizzy, you pull away to catch your breath, a string of spit stretching between you for a moment as you giggle, looking up and down the street to see if there are still others around.

He sets you down, a grin spreading across his face as he takes in just how disheveled you are from your brief kiss. You smooth your hair and tug your skirt down, wiping across your face to get the rest of the lipgloss he hasn’t kissed away.

“I could really use another cig right now,” you laugh, pulling your pack back out to grab one, winking as you motion for his lighter. You’ve barely exhaled the smoke before he’s kissing you again, tongue desperately searching for a taste of the tobacco in your mouth as his hand cups your jaw. It’s brief, but combined with the nicotine it sends you into a headrush, vision clouding over as his tongue swipes over yours.

He steps back and pockets the lighter with a smirk, crushing the end of your cigarette under his sneaker. “See you back in there, princess. I’m George, by the way. Let me know if you need another light.” The door shuts behind him. The bubbles in your chest grow until you spin around, dizzy from the feel of his arms around you, the press of his forearm slung around your neck. You want his hands pushing into the flesh of your throat, long fingers wrapped all the way around your fucking neck.

You tilt your head back against the wall, laughing at the absurdity of it. Coming back in, you text your friends, before you swipe open your phone’s camera to look at the state of your makeup. Lips ruined, but otherwise relatively intact. You wonder what you’d look like if you went home with him.

Back in the club, you find your friends dancing in the same spot you left them, and you drag them to a table to get them a round as you tell them what happened outside. You lean forward on your elbows on the sticky tables as your best friend bats your arm, the group of them looking around to try and spot him. He’s tall, but low light and music make it hard to focus on one face for longer than a second.

“I can’t believe you didn’t get his number,” drunkenly exclaims one of them, craning her neck to look into the dark corners of the club. You haven’t spotted him either since you came back inside, but you’re resolved to make the most of the night.

“Come on,” you say, swiping more lipgloss on. “Let’s go dance.”

You get down to the old pop blasting through the speakers of the club, spinning around and round until you’re dizzy. Every time you spot someone ridiculously tall out of the corner of your eye, heat shoots between your legs, only to be met with a twinge of disappointment when you realize it’s not him. Your friends try to distract you, pulling you closer to dance with them, laughing and singing along as you move together.

“He was probably a boring lay anyways,” one of them shouts, shaking her head. You nod with assent, eyes wandering now to see if you can salvage this night. But before you can land on another target, you feel the heat of a hand on your hip, pulling you away from your friends to spin you around.

“Was worried you forgot about me, princess,” George breathes into your ear, hips moving in time with yours. “Thought you found someone else.” You grasp his shoulders and grind into him, rolling your hips into the growing bulge of his jeans.

“I’m all yours for tonight if you want me.” You can feel his smile against your forehead, lips stretching to press a kiss there. “But what is it you want, darling?” George asks, biceps flexing as he grabs your ass, the black fabric of your skirt bunching in his fist. You know he can feel the lace of your underwear beneath them, pink lace growing damper by the second the longer his hand remains that close to your aching core.

“Want everything,” you gasp into his mouth, finally kissing him again. He breaks away before you can tug him further into you. “Gonna give me a name, first?” George teases, intertwining your fingers together. You reply with a wince, internally cringing at your haste, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He starts to tug you in the direction of the door, hands practically encircling yours.

“Wait,” you shout over the music, gesturing behind you. “Let me tell my friends I’m leaving.” Weaving through the crowd with George in tow you spot your best friend looking utterly blissed out, dancing without a care in the world. Tapping on her arm, you blush as she does an almost comical double take, eyeing George up next to you. “We’re going,” you say, letting out a laugh as she blinks.

‘Have fun, darling,” she responds. “See you soon!” The two of you turn to go, and you’re turning on your location as George opens his rideshare app, swiping through it. You burst into the cool night, the quiet of the street making you even more aware of the rush in your ears as you look at him, stark features highlighted by the single lamppost illuminating the two of you.

“Mine or yours, sweetheart?” George asks, thumbing open the address bar. “I’m fifteen minutes away.” He stands patiently, a far cry from the intensity you just felt in the club. You can tell he wants you to feel safe – letting you go back to your flat even though it would be a much longer drive.

“Yours,” you insist. “Shorter drive.” The car pulls up almost immediately, sleek and black as you pile into the back. George puts his hand on your leg as the two of you wait, the heat in the back of the car almost so stifling you want to roll the window down. Every bump in the road has you clenching around nothing, wishing he would slide his hand just a little further up your thigh to relieve you.

Soon enough you’re at the front door of his flat, hands clasped as he unlocks the door, ushering you in and closing it behind you. The two of you pause for a moment before he has you up against the door, kissing along your neck.

“I want to mark this pretty throat up,” he groans, pausing in one spot to suck a red mark on your flesh, the line of his body pressing you hard into the door. You want to be utterly overwhelmed by him tonight, for him to take over your body and clear your mind until there’s only one thing it’s filled with.

“You can do anything you want.” You mewl as he gets a leg between your thighs, grinding against him, his denim against your lace as you rub your clit on his leg. He lets you take control for a moment, letting out a low laugh when you give up, frustrated that you’re not getting what you need.

“Let me take you to bed, princess.” He carries you to his room, licking up the salt on the side of your throat. The heat of his tongue sends shudders down your body, clit pulsing with need. The denim of his jeans juts out, and you grind your hips onto the rigid line of him, wet underwear sticking to you.

“Please, George, need you,” you whimper, head falling into the crook of his neck. He sets you down atop your sheets, kneeling between your legs as he guides your head to the pillow. His eyes are practically black, pupils expanded to drink in the sight of your heaving chest and the purple now littered across your neck. “Please, Daddy.”

That’s what gets him – he lets out a low moan as he palms himself over his jeans, broad knuckles and glinting silver rings groping the dark patch you left on him. “Say it again, princess.”

“Want your cock, Daddy.” You whine, damp hands fisting the sheets below you for any semblance of sanity, of stability. You feel like you’re on another plane of existence, hurtling somewhere where you’re reduced to a single pinpointed sensation between your thighs.

“Such a greedy little slut, aren’t you? Need Daddy’s cock to keep you happy?” George groans as he unzips his jeans, precum dotting his white briefs as he slips a hand below the elastic, lightly stroking as his other one comes up to rub light figures on your clit. You moan, hips jolting finally at the stimulation, and you realize he’s drawing letters across your folds. “R - G - E,” you catch, and he begins his attack anew on the bundle of nerves. “G - E - O - R - G - E.” His mouth remains slightly open, shiny and swollen pink lips betraying the pants he lets out as his eyes devour the sight of your puffy folds.

“Going to be a good girl and take my fingers, yeah?” You sob as his manicured nails tease your hole, finally working one in, stroking across your soft insides. George kneels above you, frantically shoving his briefs down as he maintains the rhythm inside you. His thighs bracket yours, tensing in time with his strokes, with the squeezes to his cock.

Your eyes widen a fraction, somehow even more turned on at the fact of finally seeing just how big he is. George catches this and tugs at himself again, the angry red tip disappearing into his fist. “Gotta get you nice and stretched for Daddy’s cock, need you to come again for me, princess.” He slides another finger in, the burn of the stretch radiating throughout your body as your cunt clenches around George’s two fingers, trying to accommodate them.

He bends down to lick at your clit, continuing to massage the soft spot inside of you, relentless as your legs kick under his frame. You wail, finally falling apart, pulsing around his digits as he fingers you through the aftershocks of your orgasm. “So pretty falling apart for me, princess.”

“Need more,” you mewl, legs shifting farther apart to situate him between them. George slowly pulls his fingers out of you, bringing them up to lick at the slick stringing between them. The milky white of your juices swirls atop the black of his nails, bursts of your pleasure disappearing as his tongue laps them up.

“Fucking love your pussy.” George kneels over you, hand grasping at your jaw as he stares intently into your eyes. “Be a good girl and open up for me, now.” Your jaw drops open, and you stick your tongue out, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation. He spits red-hot into your mouth, wet fingers digging in to shut the taste of you into your mouth. “Taste how sweet you are.”

“Going to be a good slut for Daddy?” He murmurs, “Open your legs again.” You spread yourself under his gaze, cunt still glistening from your orgasm, clenching around nothing. “Wider.” He grunts, grabbing your thigh and pulling it over his shoulder, sucking at the soft flesh.

“Do you have a condom, baby?” He holds himself still above you, eyes intense as he searches yours for an answer. You shake your head resolutely no, tugging him down.

“On the pill, Daddy, want you to fill me up.” George moans as he fists his cock, sliding the head through your slick folds. His tip catches against your hole, and you involuntarily clench, trying to draw him into you finally. Your back sticks uncomfortably to the sheets, damp with your sweat as you shift, anticipating George.

“Going to put it in now, going to be good for Daddy?” You nod furiously, hands running up and down George’s arms as he finally guides himself inside. He slides in slowly, carefully, pressing kisses back and forth across your cheekbones.

“So fucking tight, princess,” he groans, biceps trembling as he stills inside you. “So wet and tight, all for me.” You whimper, overwhelmed, mind clouded in a haze of George. As the moments pass, you feel your insides practically rearranging for him, welcoming him into your dripping cunt.

You drop a hand to dip into his lower back, pressing in to tell him to start, to claim you as his. He draws out slowly, leaving only the tip of his dick nestled in your folds. You whine at the sudden loss, grasping at the sheets, clenching around air. He thrusts back in.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, ” you moan. You’ve never felt more full in your life, the throbbing pressure inside your cunt leaving you squirming up the bed, only to be tugged back down onto George’s cock. Tears spill out of your eyes as he builds up a steady rhythm, damp chests dragging across each other, your tits sticking with the sweat from both your bodies.

He rails into you, alternating between harsh, quick thrusts and deep ruts that leave you gasping, every ridge of his cock dragging along the most tender parts of you. “It’s all for Daddy, isn’t it? Cute little hole all mine to use." You grab at the sheets again but your palms are too damp, your body jolting as George pounds into your body.

You feel dirty and overwhelmed, everything reduced to the singular point in the body where you connect, feeling the drag and pressure inside of you. You press down on your lower belly, crying out “I can feel you, Daddy, so big in me.” George’s hand dwarfs your own, holding it down as he pushes further, the slight bulge appearing and disappearing as he rails into you.

“Taking me so well baby,” he groans, and he spits down at where the two of you are conjoined. “Want to come inside you princess, stuff you full.” Dazed, you can only nod, hurtling towards the edge. He reaches down to touch your clit, calluses rubbing as the fire in your lower belly suddenly roars over you. Your vision goes white as you come, a supernova as your slick leaks out around his cock, the walls of your cunt fluttering. George has been slowly rutting into you as the last of the shockwaves roll over you, but he picks up the intensity as your eyes refocus, no longer glazed over. All you can do is lie there and take it as his thrusts shift you up the bed, his burning eyes never leaving yours as he plays with your tits.

“Fuck, gonna make you mine,” George rasps. You can feel when he starts to come, his whole body tightening up as he curls into your neck, shooting warm spurts of cum inside, your body still pulsing with the aftershocks of your own orgasm. Everything in your brain stops as his cock pulses in your overstimulated cunt, leaving you satiated and blissed out, eyes sliding shut as you wrap your arms around his shoulders to keep him close to you. Eventually, he slips his softened cock out, kissing you hard on the mouth as you wince, suddenly so empty.

You feel his release start to seep out, trickling through your folds and adding to the damp mess on the sheets below. Entranced, he pulls back to watch his translucent cum spill, dripping beads falling like nectar from the sweetest fruit. He reaches out to touch.

“Can’t take anymore, Daddy,” you sob, throwing an arm over your eyes as you try and close your legs against the thick fingers swiping through your core. “Gotta make sure it takes, princess,” George says, pressing a kiss to your forehead before lifting himself off of you.

George moves down the bed to lie on his stomach between your thighs, hooking an arm under each to pull them apart, baring your glistening entrance again. He lets out a ragged breath before he starts lapping at your folds, getting everything that’s been lost already. You wail, already so far gone from your first two orgasms that another one seems impossible.

“Daddy knows what’s best for you,” he snaps, reaching his hand up to shove two fingers in your mouth. You keen around them, writhing against the sheets as his tongue fucks in and out of your hole, the tip of his tongue repeatedly hitting that spot inside of you. His nose rubs against your clit and you put a hand on his head, trying to hold him there as you rapidly approach another peak.

“Naughty little slut, I thought you couldn’t take another one,” George says, his tongue running flat over your folds. “Need you to shut up now, so I can focus.” His hand slips out of your mouth to wind around your neck, saliva-slick fingers smearing over the delicate flesh as you struggle to get another breath out, completely overwhelmed by him. He’s not putting any pressure on your throat, but the suggestion of his massive hands choking you has you on the edge in seconds, gasping at the thought.

“Choke me, Daddy,” you plead, “make me cum.” George dives back into your cunt with a fervor, sucking and fucking his cum out of you, wet and messy and utterly filthy. His hand tightens around your throat and you can hear his tongue go in and out, laving over spots that have you seeing stars. You’re lightheaded, weak as you teeter on the precipice, anchored only by the feel of his hands holding you down on the mattress.

Your orgasm shoots through you, spasming around his tongue as you arch against the sheets, covering the lower half of his face in slick. You’re practically floating in the sheets, reaching some higher level of existence as you finally close your thighs to turn on your side. When you finally come to again, George has a clean pair of briefs on, sitting up against the headboard as he strokes your arm. A glass of water sits on the side table, and you can see your phone plugged in next to it. A groan rips out of your throat as you sit up, the ache in your core already apparent as you shift.

“Do you think you can stand, babe?” George asks, hand on your lower back. You nod, swinging your legs over the side of the bed to stand. He leads you to his bathroom, setting you down on the toilet as he busies himself finding a washcloth. The water has found its way into the bathroom with you, and you take appreciative gulps as he kneels before you, murmuring apologetically at the first wipe of the cloth through your folds.

“Sorry princess, gotta clean you up,” he says as you hiss, the coolness jarring against your skin. He pecks your knee when finished, and you wrap your arms around his neck to lift yourself as he slips a pair of his boxers over your hips. You feel like you could burst from the tenderness – surprised that a bar hookup is treating you so nicely after you’ve just been calling him Daddy in bed. “We should do this again,” you chuckle, fingers exploring the new bruises across your throat as you look into the mirror. He pulls you back against his warm chest, kissing the marks he left as you smile at the girl in front of you. Yeah, you could do this again.

#Sorryyyy description is more dramatic than it is but I kind of want to write a follow up where it would actually make sense #I feel filthy oh god. godbless george bedford daniel and godbless boiler room content #george daniel smut #george daniel x reader #george daniel #george daniel x you #masterlist

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alovesreading · 6 months

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Nice Kind Of Messy

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

Word Count: 16.7k

Warnings: smut.

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

Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“George, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But despite your words, he stops.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So fucking sweet. He needed more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m fucking you now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckles smugly, “I know you will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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love4agesss · 4 months

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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

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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

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graciegoeskrazy · 2 months

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inside your mind

matty healy + niece!daniel!teen!reader

warnings: mentions of slapping and punching, mentions of bullying, alludes to reader being g depressed, a cherry topping of teen angst, short short short

a/n: just a lil somthing to tide u over! i missed dad matty lol. SEND IN REQUESTS! even if you send in multiple! or if you are the same person! i don’t care! i love them and i need them! unless i replied no (which j don’t think i have) they r all coming. slowly but surely. ty anonie who requested!

This wasn't your proudest moment. It also wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. You had to watch them place a call and talk to your father on the phone. You couldn’t make out his exact words, but knew they were full of honest sympathy. They told him what they told the other parents. Something along the lines of This behavior is not acceptable and she will have to be reprimanded for the damage she has done to others. You thought it was all shit. You are a freshman with a 4.5 GPA and take classes 2 years above your grade level. Meanwhile, your opponent that day was some lonely 12th grader with anger issues and nothing better to do.

You sat near the front door of the the front office, anxiously awaiting his arrival. That was until you heard the front door open and saw Matty standing there. He sighed as he walked in and spotted you.

You stood up with your bag. “What are you doing here?”

“Dad’s in a meeting. I offered to bail you out.” He said.

You sighed and headed for the door.

“I don’t need to talk to anyone?”

“Nah. They already suspended me for 3 days.”

“Jeez, babe.” He sighed again as he headed to the car. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“Just…bitches.” You tried to shrug it off, hoping he wouldn’t bring it up again. “People were being bitches, so you punched them?” He opened the door for you, prompting you to get in.

“I didn’t punch them…it was more on the lines of a slap.”

“So that’s supposed to make it better?”

“I never said that. Just wanted you to get your facts straight.” You smiled at him as you got in.

“Smart ass.” He said, smiling and slamming the door. He got in on the other side. Before he could start the car, you interrupted him and spoke.

“Is he mad?’ You kept your gaze in front of you. You were genuine this time. Not like the ‘smart ass’.

Matty took a moment before answering. “No, I think he’s just confused.”

He looked at you and reached over the console. “What’s going on, love? Hm? What’s happening in that brain of yours?”

“So much and so little at the same time.”

“Does it just get too loud sometimes?”

You shrugged and looked down.

“You’ve not been yourself lately.”

You rolled your eyes. “You sound like him.”

“Because I agree with him!” He moved a loose piece of hair behind your ear while you sat still, not acknowledging it. “Where’s the old y/n who used to laugh at every word I say and giggle so loudly she peed herself?”

“No one liked her.” You said abruptly.

“Well, I loved her.” He said, matter of fact-ly. “Do things just feel kind of…grey now? He asked, cautiously.

“Yeah.” You said, through the beginning of your tears.

“You need to talk to your Dad, love.” You rolled your eyes slightly but all it did was push him on. “Whatever is happening…this ‘grey’ shit- it’s gone on for too long. I want my girl back.” He planted a kiss on the side of your head and whipped a tear that had fallen. “Talk to him for me, okay?”

You nodded and finally looked up at him. “Okay.”

#the 1975 #x daughter!reader #matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy x daughter!reader #matty the 1975 #matty x reader #george daniel x daughter!reader #george daniel x you #george daniel x reader #george daniel #x neice!reader

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bloodisonurtongue · 6 months

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NAIL PAINTING / GEORGE DANIEL X READER

a/n: I saw a photo of George painting his nails and I knew I needed to write something about it, there was no way I couldn’t.

I know I said George smut a few days ago but I never stick to my word but i am working on it I promise. this is also really short so I’m sorry for that

C/W: NAIL PAINTING WITH GEORGE!!!

promtly walking into the living room of George and yours shared apartment, you’d immediately smelt the disgustingly strong smell of nail polish, you felt your nose scrunch at the smell of it. quickly thinking back to when you’d painted your nails a few hours ago on the kitchen counter, wondering if you’d left a bottle of polish on the kitchen counter, open, and now the air had be flowing around with the strong scent of it.

as you continued walking, making your way to the kitchen the smell had became even stronger, making it evident to you that you’d indeed left a bottle of your polish open on your kitchen counter, or thats what you thought.

Not until you fully walked into your kitchen, you noticed George sitting at your kitchen counter, in the same place you were a few hours ago painting your nails, a nail polish bottle on the counter and the brush of it in his hand as you watched him gently paint his index finger with the black polish on the brush.

“what are you doing darling?” you quietly asked him, your thoughts now completely fixated on how he’d look with his nails painted. You’d definitely startled the man because you saw the way he jumped lightly and looked at you with wide eyes, blush quickly flushing to his cheeks as he realised he’d been caught painting his nails, tho you didn’t mind one bit, you’d love for him to paint his nails, use your polish too if needed, as along as he was happy with it.

“I- uhm, painting my nails” your lucky you even heard the last part of his sentence, he spoke so quietly that you could tell he was nervous of your reaction to it, because he’d never gotten his nails painted or done it himself, except for the time in high school he was forced by his friends to get them painted a glittery purple by one of the girls in their friend group even tho he hated it and wanted it off the moment it was done.

“are you painting them black?” You gently asked as you walked to his side, taking a good look at the (somehow) neatly done nail polish on his fingers as he nodded at you “I think they look great darling, very neat so far, black nail polish looks good on you” you said happily as you gave him a kiss on the cheek before pulling out the stool next to him and sitting down on it as he looked at you

“you don’t care that I’m painting my nails? Or that I’m using one of your polishes?” he spoke nervously, very confused as you shook your head at him “I don’t mind at all honey, my only problem is I’ve just painted my nails and I can’t paint my with you now-” you quickly cut yourself off mid sentence as you remembered nail polish remover was a thing, and got up again and ran to where all your nail stuff was, grabbing nail polish remover and a few cotton pads as well as another colour to paint your nails again.

you quickly ran back to the counter, almost slipping over before you placed everything you grabbed on the counter in-front of you “I have an idea! I’ll remove the polish and do them again” you said as you calmed down, making eye contact with George as a big smile broke out on his face, now knowing that you didn’t care one bit about him painting his nails

“What if I paint your nails too baby?” George said to you as you started to gently clean the polish off your nails with a cotton pad and he started to paint his again. you smiled brightly as he finished his sentence “that’d be great if you would do that for me darling, finish yours and you can do mine as well.”

you finished getting the left over polish off of your nails before watching George as he gently ran the brush over his nails, painting them perfectly, anybody would think he’d done this millions of times before. he quickly finished his nails, somehow not messing them up, I mean god even you couldn’t paint your nails that perfect no matter how slow you tried to do it.

“your turn now baby” he says as he turned his chair to face you more, gently grabbing the polish you picked from your little collection and opening it before gesturing for you to give him one of your hands. He gently grabbed one of your fingers before running the brush softly against your nail, still perfectly painting as he did

“y’know your so good at this, I might need you to paint my nails more often” you said with a giggle as you watched him smile at that “thank you sweetheart, I am pretty good at it aren’t i?” he said giggling too.

not long after he finished painting your nails too, you felt way happier with your freshly painted nails then when you did them yourself. the rest of the day you spent adoring your nails, knowing the person you love most painted them.

#the 1975 #george daniel #george daniel x reader #george 1975 #george daniel x you #george daniel fic #the 1975 fic #george daniel imagine #the 1975 imagine

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heyidkyay · 9 months

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I guess I’ll take this pain, instead of your name |

Part Twenty-Six

A/n: Hey! Finally giving you 26 alongside some answers! Not sure how I feel about this part just yet, it was difficult to write but I hope you enjoy it all the same:) Let me know I suppose!

Summary: In life, things changed. The boys you'd once grown up with were men now, and famous ones at that. The type that toured the world and had millions of adoring fans.

The five of you shared a shit ton of history. But you also shared a lot of mixed emotions for one of them in particular, a certain drummer.

Warnings: Lots of feelings, swearing but should be expected this far in, mentions of toxic relationships

Masterlist

And wouldn’t you just’ve guessed it. Ross was sat waiting on the steps of the villa for me when I finally returned. He watched me as I stepped out of a cab and ambled my way up the long drive, a cigarette pinched between his steady fingers.

It was quiet. Had been since I’d left Alvaro at the hospital.

I’d wandered around for a bit, unable to do much else other than think. He’d really given me a lot to think about.

But then my migraine had started back up again and I’d suddenly felt sick to my stomach, I’d had to have this little old lady, working a stall, phone for a driver for me whilst I’d kept myself from spewing into the bath of a nearby fountain. It hadn’t been my finest moment but I’d made it back to the villa alive and the throbbing pain in my skull had dulled somewhat on the drive over.

Ross was watching still as I walked closer and took perch on the step beside him, thankful for the small amount of shade the roof provided us with, the heat was doing nothing for my remaining nausea. He didn’t say anything for a long while, nor did he offer me a drag or a smoke of my own, which I wasn’t too fussed about. But even if I had been, I couldn’t have brought myself to ask, the sickness still there but getting easier with each deep breath I took.

“Sent the lads out once we realised you were missing.” He murmured to me, eyes trained on the pebbled drive lain out before us.

I’d forgotten about them, the boys, in my hurry to escape. Just needing to unwind, desperate to forget, to get away. Matty had been asleep still, the others dotting about on their own. George… I had no idea, so I simply shook away the thought.

“Knew you’d be back soon enough though.” Ross went on, taking a longer drag when he realised I wouldn’t be adding much to the conversation. “How’s the head?” He then asked me, changing the subject completely.

I swallowed, toying with a loose thread on my cardi. “Nearly chucked up in this pretty fountain down by the old town, gave the locals a right show.”

He didn’t laugh but I saw the corners of his mouth turn upwards, so easily amused by my sufferings. “Probably thought you were hung to hell, out on the piss ’til morning.”

I hummed around a tiny smile, tugging on the thread and enjoying the way it unraveled for me. “How’s the album coming?”

If Ross was surprised by my question he didn’t let it show, merely tilted his head then shrugged a shoulder lazily. “It’s not. Matt’s mind is elsewhere and G is… well, G is being G.”

That familiar guilt throbbed in me again, a reminder.

“Can’t be helped though.” Ross sighed, flicking away some remnant ash. “Can’t force this shit. It comes or it don’t.”

We were swept up by a breezy quiet then, both of us lost in our own heads. I kept finding myself opening my mouth to say something though, once, twice, then three times. There was this heated little knot of anxiety balled in the hollow of my ribs and someone just kept on tugging at it tighter and tighter until I finally begun to feel it fray and splinter.

“I kissed George.”

Ross’s head snapped in my direction at having heard my muted admission, but my eyes were trained still on the lit cigarette he held in his hand as though he’d forgotten it was even there. “What?”

But I knew he’d already heard me.

“You kissed George?” He breathed out once I made no move to repeat myself.

I hummed again, swallowing down past the ache in my throat as I clung to my cardigan tighter. I glanced up at him when he didn’t say anything more, he was just staring back at me with these huge surprised eyes. I’d’ve smiled, it wasn’t every day you got to witness something like that, but couldn’t dim my anxiety.

“You kissed George.” Ross said again and I blew out a soft sigh whilst I let him internalise it. “When?” He asked me, unblinking.

“’S’mornin’.” I mumbled in answer, those fraying threads of anxiety polluting the rest of my body now, like maggots infecting a soldier’s already dirtied wound.

“Jesus Christ.” Ross breathed, shaking his head, and then he dragged a heavy hand down the length of his exhausted face. I suddenly felt like a chastised little kid getting ready to get told off. But Ross was better than that, he never rebuked the actions of the rest of us unless we took it a step too far- ‘Live and learn’ he’d often spout like the wise old man he truly was. “Explains why he had the face of a slapped arse then, don’t it?”

My brows rose but I didn’t push his reply. I didn’t want to know any more.

“What a way to start a holiday, hey?” He then added and we both had to laugh a little at his words, even if they were more depreciating than other. We shared another sigh and I watched on whilst he took one final drag before stumping the butt out, he glanced over to me after.

“I’m guessing the kiss is why you disappeared then?” Ross questioned, head tilted slightly as his eyes found mine. The smile I answered him with was wet and watery, and he could only lift an arm out towards me. “Oh, B…”

I let out a scoff of a cry at his pitiful words and fell limply into his side, feeling so incredibly lost. So stupid.

“It’s okay.” I heard him murmur above my head, both arms curling around my broken self to hold me better together. “It’ll be okay.”

Because it had to be, right?

—

I’d gone to bed after my impromptu sobbing session with Ross. How the man had yet to get sick of me and my onslaught of tears was beyond me- but I was thankful for it nevertheless. Especially when he brought a decent cuppa and a couple of biscuits to my bedside after.

That’d been a long while ago now though, long enough for the biscuits I hadn’t eaten to have gone stale and the tea discoloured and cold. I laid there, still, staring up at the ceiling.

When I was little I used to paint stars up there with strokes of my eyes, imagine dark blue hues and gradient purples surrounding planets and glowing suns. But then I’d grown up and the dark had crept its way in, drowning my pretty stars in its shadows.

I could still picture them sometimes though, mostly back when I’d been curled up in bed with George. I’d see them. Dimmer than the years before, but there, twinkling. They’d long since abandoned me again though. All I saw now was a blank ceiling staring back at me.

I sighed, forcing my eyes away from it and out towards the window where the sun had since set. I questioned how another day had so quickly slipped past me.

The boys had since returned too, I’d heard them stumble in an hour or two ago. Maybe even three. They’d wanted to check in, I’d seen their shadows dance beneath my closed bedroom door and heard their muted arguments. But my guess is that Ross somehow waylaid them, because they hadn’t pushed any further than that. Although, my phone had buzzed a couple dozen times.

It was somewhere on the floor, settled on the pile of clothes I’d stripped out of.

Quiet now though. The villa, I meant. My mind not so much. I still couldn’t work out for the life of me what the fuck I wanted. Scared and too fucking afraid to come to an actual decision. I didn’t want to be hurt again, but I also knew that either way I could be. So, I either push George further away and end up breaking my own heart, or risk everything and just have him do it for me, for the hundredth time.

Too many fucking thoughts. Too big a decision to make.

I wanted to bury myself in my pillow, burrow further away, but I could feel a headache coming on and so, in hopes to avoid it, I peeled myself from out under the safety of my covers and over to the door, figuring that a decent brew might just do the job.

The house was dimmed as I made my way down the stairs, only the outside porch lights were still on, though I could hear murmurs of movement as I passed by the guys’ rooms.

I kept the kitchen light off when I made my way over to the counter, instead opting to use the fridge as a lamp whilst I worked my way around the kettle, nicking one of the many Russian caravan teabags Matty so liked.

It was nice, down here alone, bare feet sliding across the chilled tiles as the evening air crept its way inside through the French doors. Peaceful almost. Once the tea was made I figured I’d make my way out there too and so I did, settled myself under the familiar peach tree I’d taken to seeing as it’d been a few days since I’d had the opportunity to hide out underneath it.

I could see the ripples in the pool from here, as well as the shorts some of the boys had left out to dry, three pairs of them all slung over a sun-lounger, a damp puddle beneath. I sipped away at my tea and felt myself longing more and more for a cigarette, I hadn’t had one since the night spent with George, and even then it’d hardly been a drag.

But what I wouldn’t do for another.

A small sigh escaped me and I settled my teacup down to the side so that I could pull my legs in closer, knees tucked up under my chin as the wind danced over my bare skin.

“What would you do then, hey?” I heard myself whisper out into it, eyes casted upwards towards the so-called heavens. “Probably wouldn’t say much. Just sort my mess out for me, yeah?”

I blew out a tiny wet chuckle, knowing I was dead right.

It was nights like these that I just found myself talking to him, my dad that is. Not often but enough. On days when things felt heavier, harder.

It had been a long time since I’d last done so. That fact alone also reminded me of how much time had passed since he’d been gone. Been gone longer than I’d ever known him. We’d never had enough time. But that was just life, wasn’t it?

I vividly remember the day he passed. I’d felt it long before they’d ever even told me. Sat on the bottom step of the staircase, phone pressed tightly to my ear. I’d felt it. I’d known something had happened. But he’d been at the hospital and she’d been there with him. So I’d phoned, and she’d said everything was fine. But I’d known. I’d felt it deep down. Something had shifted.

It made me wonder now, here in this pretty little garden, how many times a heart could shatter before it stopped letting you put it back together. Too many pieces lost in the explosion. Not enough parts to make it work the same.

My dad’s death had taken a few too many pieces, I think. The rest had just followed.

Now, he wasn’t much of a gambler, my old man, but I knew that he’d bet a pretty penny if he was here right now on my next decision. He’d always had a way of knowing my next move before I’d ever even thought it. Wise in his own way and not the traditional sort. Hated school but loved anything that could keep his hands and mind busy. Could read people better than he could most words.

I was wired in a similar way.

And I couldn’t stop myself from wishing then that he could only hear me so that he’d just tell me what I was going to do next.

It was hard, not having him here.

“You ever think they look back?”

My head jerked upwards like a horse dislodging a fly at the unexpected voice, only to find George stood there by the door, bare foot too with his hands tucked into his pockets. I gaped for a brief moment before I swallowed down my surprise and followed his nod over to where the stars were twinkling high above.

“Maybe.” I replied, unable to help myself.

George hummed and stepped closer, down off the step he was tittering on. I wondered how long he’d been there. “Always loved them though, you have. Remember you dragging me out into the fields late at night to watch them years back. Only ever loved London in the day because at night they were too hard to spot.”

I exhaled the heaviness I felt weigh on my chest. “They give me hope. Let me pretend that things last.”

“What d’you mean?” He questioned, both our voices far too quiet. Too careful. There were lines being tread now.

I shrugged a single shoulder, chin digging deeper into my shin as I stared up at the well-lit sky. “They die, don’t they? Just like us. Give the illusion that they’re permanent, that they’ll never fade out. But they do, we just don’t see it. Don’t realise that they’re all just dying millions of miles away.”

“Biblical that.”

I snorted at his dry response, a soft sound I couldn’t quite help. “Far from.”

He merely hummed again, then took another step closer drawing my attention, I dipped my head once and then looked away when he pointed down to the ground beside me. I focused on keeping my breathing even as he settled there, stretching his legs out before us.

“Where’d you disappear to then?” After you kissed me… George questioned after a minute.

I wet my lower lip and let a hand slip from where it’d been curled around my leg to toy with the tea I’d brought out with me. It’d gone cold.

“I walked around for a bit. Just thinking.”

“Ah.” He replied, a very George like reaction if I did say so myself. So monosyllabic. “Anything good?”

I huffed a small amused chuckle, wrinkling the cup’s dark liquid. “Did I think of anything good?”

“Hm.”

I shook my head, flicking away the wetness I’d gathered on my fingertips. “Dunno. Not really. Just had a lot on my mind.”

“Thing with thinking, is that it’s dead useful, but only sometimes.” George retorted and I glanced over to find him fidgeting with the grass beneath us. “Most days I just wish everything would shut up. Gets too loud and I can’t even escape it, you know? ‘Cause it’s all in my head.”

I did know.

He looked up and caught me staring, gifted me the tinniest of smiles from beneath shadowed eyes and dark lashes. “Seen any shooting stars whilst you been out here then?”

I returned the sentiment, eyes lingering on the curve of his lips, remembering…

“No, but you know me, luck’s never been very fortunate to us.”

George’s gaze drifted between my own. “I don’t know about that,” He said, voice velvety and low. “You seem to do alright on your own.”

I scoffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah, if you could call it that.”

George’s elbow nudged my side. “Come on, look at what you’ve got. A job you love, people you love, smile of an angel.”

I nudged him right back, mostly in retaliation for that last comment. Charmer, just like Nana had always claimed.

“Oh yeah, can’t complain me.” I joked, mind stuck on every bad thing that’d ever been thrown at me. And though I tried not to let it show, he still knew.

He knew me better than I knew myself. And vice-versa. I’d almost forgotten that fact about us.

George was turned better towards me now, his stance a little more open, and in the haze of the moonlight I caught sight of his eye, my head shot out to really see it.

“Oh God,” I gasped mutedly, hand reaching out towards the welt on his face before I could think better of it. “Did I do that?”

George just laughed me off, hand catching mine before I could touch the injured eye, my attention snapped down towards it, though he didn’t release me. “It’s not that bad, just raised a bit, like you said it would. Go down in a day or two.” He assured and I could only mutter another quiet sorry before he was shaking his head at me and smiling. “It was an accident- and even if it weren’t, it’s the least I deserve, innit?”

He laughed whilst I simply scowled. “Don’t say that.”

“What? It’s true, ain’t it?” George replied, “Been so shit to you. Never fucked up more. So I wouldn’t blame you for it even if you did choose to batter me.”

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you, George.”

“Like I did you?” He quipped straight back, hard eyes trained on mine now, “‘Cause it’s the truth. I fucking promised no one would ever hurt you again, all those years ago. Remember that? And look at where we are now. I’ve broken that promise nine times over.”

I let go of a heavy sigh, “G, you haven’t-”

“The fuck I haven’t! I have! I have. And do you know what’s worse?” He asked me, hand still cradling mine, hold soft and gentle. “I have the fucking nerve to sit here and ask you to forgive me, to take me back.” He scoffed at himself and my breath caught when he finally dropped my hand. “The things I‘d do to take it all back.” He muttered deeply, clucking his tongue as he shook his head.

“I wouldn’t want you to.” I told him honestly, my reply surprising both him and I.

“How can you say that?” He looked back at me, his expression pinched.

I shrugged, casting a long glance out over towards the pool. “‘Cause you can’t take it back, can you? So there’s no real point in trying, or stressing about the things we’ll never be able to change. Life is shit, you deal with it.”

George released a shaky breath and dragged a rigid hand over the back of his head. “I really messed you up, didn’t I?”

That made me pause. It was too close to the truth.

“No more than anyone else did.”

The sound that escaped him then shocked me to my core and my head snapped back over to where he was perched beside me, tears in his eyes, mouth strained to keep any other sound like it from falling out. He wouldn’t look at me, just kept on shaking his head. “And that’s what kills me.” He breathed, voice tight, cheeks hollowed. “God. That’s what fucking kills me.”

I didn’t know what to say. I could only stare at him, wind caught on the lump in my throat.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him cry, but I knew it’d never been like this.

“George-” I whispered out, unable to utter much else, but he just shook his head again, rubbing at his eyes.

“Nah, it’s fine.” He sniffed, chuckling at himself whilst he worked his jaw to keep from outwardly crying anymore. “It’s- well it’s like I said, ain’t it? No less than what I deserve. Fuck. I’m just so sorry. So fucking sorry. And I’m not sure if I’ve even told you that yet.”

“You have.” I reassured him in a croaky whisper, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. “You did.”

“I want to take it all back. I just want to do it all over.” He choked out, trying so very hard to avoid my gaze, to not let me see him cry. “I want so fucking much, but, there’s not much point in wanting, is there? I can’t take it back, I can’t make it make sense. And I can’t tell you how much I wish that I’d never fucking let you go in the first place. That I’d ever let myself fuck up the best thing I’ve ever had. No fucking point, no use!”

I untangled myself from my position to reach out towards him, fingers catching the side of his face like they had that very same morning. My mind flashed back to him in my bed, my lips against his. I forced his face towards me, coaxing him, “Look at me, will you? Just look at me. I need you to see. Okay? I need you to look at me and see the mess that I’ve become, the mess that I’ve always been, yeah? Because neither of us are fucking perfect, G, and, sure, you might’ve messed up, you might’ve hurt me, but that doesn’t just make me stop loving you, okay? That doesn’t erase our past and make everything that we’ve ever shared just go away. Alright? I need you to know that. I need you to understand that no matter what happens from here on out, that you will always be apart of my life. I need you to know that. I just- I need you to, okay?”

His dark and watery eyes were flitting back and forth, left then right, between my own, blatant shock staring me back in the face. I had to tell him though, he had to know. He had to.

“You hear me?” I shook his head in my hands and he raised his to cover my own, he nodded at me, just barely, and let his fingers rest against mine. My eyes were locked on his, I saw every emotion he’d ever felt flit through those brown eyes, because we were like magnets, George and I, when we collided nothing else on God’s green Earth could pull us apart, and in that moment I wanted it to always stay that way. With him beneath me, the stars in his eyes.

My forehead was pressing against his before I’d even felt myself lean in, knees hooked over either side of him, pressing deep into the soil. His hands stayed with mine, but his eyes were hooked on me so intensely that I had to let my own fall close. His fingers interlocked with mine. I felt his breath tickle my skin.

My heart ached like a hole that had been torn through my chest and it felt as though we were floating, far from the villa and its peach tree, from the Earth and all its noise. Like we’d just gone and switched the entire planet off.

I heard his swallow. And fuck, he was so shaky it almost felt like holding onto my very own earthquake.

“I’m right where you left me, Birdie.” George murmured into the blank space between us, that inch of air that separated us. And those words just rendered me helpless.

And who could really blame me? Blame me for being drawn in again. For reaching out and cupping his familiar face, for trailing a careful thumb over the curve of his cheek to the corner of his mouth.

He made me so irrational. Made me forget. Had me faltering above him, even when I had the upper hand here, made my lips part on their own accord just as his nose lightly brushed my own. I couldn’t waste another second debating with myself, looking for answers that ceased to come; I slid my hand to the back of his neck and let him draw me in further, pausing only slightly for just a second before my lips found his.

It felt like coming home, kissing George. So familiar, with a vague sentiment of relief. The kiss was slow and delicate, probing almost, like we were both still trying to get over the fact that it was even happening. This kiss so unlike the one we’d shared before.

George responded in kind, let his lips fall open even more to savour it, his hands diving to my waist, fingers pressed into my sides.

I’d pictured this, made up so many scenarios in my head over the span of the last year that it was hard to rationalise the how and the why. But it was happening and I couldn’t bring myself to stop it, to pull apart.

George was so tender this time around and I welcomed him in when he ran his tongue searchingly beneath my own. The softness of the kiss had me falling further into his embrace, and he didn’t even bat an eyelid, simply held me up. Like before. His touch grew more needy, fingers digging deeper into my waist when I pressed my chest up against his, teeth grazing lightly over my bottom lip enough for me to let out a soft moan, a moan that he then swallowed whole.

And it was then that I felt so overwhelmed, wanting more. Needing more than just this. But I couldn’t bring myself to shift any closer, to have him lay back, to lose myself in the madness that was him. His hands slipped to my hips, fingertips skimming the edge of my top, touching skin, it was that which made me stiffen, pull away.

I was breathing heavily, as was George when he quickly dropped his hands and allowed me to create some much needed space between us again. My head swimming.

“We can’t.” I attempted to say and he nodded, eyes taking in everything they could of my face. I must’ve looked a right picture as I inhaled shakily above him. “Not like this. I- we need to talk.”

George nodded again, I watched his chest rise and fall, watched him rub his lips together. Gaze trained on me.

“We can’t.” I whispered again, but I no longer knew who I was speaking to.

“We can’t.” He parroted me, seeming to really understand the words now. He inhaled sharply and then glanced down. “But if we can’t, then you’ve really got to get off my lap now, B.”

I followed his gaze and blinked, realising my position. “Shit, yeah. Yeah, sorry.”

George blew out a faint chuckle, watching as I rolled off him. Warier still whilst rearranging himself, as though he was scared to take another wrong step. “No need to say sorry, always enjoy a lapful of you.” He gifted me a kind grin. “But you are right. We should talk.”

Talk. It felt like all we’d done since the night of my birthday is talk. We were talking and talking, saying an awful lot without saying much at all. But I had no idea where to start here.

Thankfully though, he did.

“I ended things.”

The air in my lungs froze as I moved to inhale, never having expected that to be the thing he’d start with. A truth, yes, but one I hadn’t thought he’d admit out loud, let alone to me.

“You did.” I breathed, blowing the stilted air through my nose as I fought not to let the ground shift beneath me. Talk, we were finally talking.

“And I was a fucking idiot.”

I scoffed out a surprised laugh, “You are.”

He smiled at me, but it was hastily replaced by a melancholy I hadn’t much seen on him before.

“I should’ve just spoken to you. I realise that now, but I was so fucking lost, B. Like, I could hardly even think, let alone open up about how I was feeling.” He murmured to me, hands clasped tightly in his lap, I watched them whilst he watched the sky once more. “I was too scared. I was a fucking coward. And when I left, I realised I couldn’t go back. ‘Cause that look you had on your face.” He shook his head, inhaling deeply, “That look…” He blew out the breath. “God, I’d never hated myself more.”

I didn’t say anything in return. Whether it was due to my surprise at the pair of us finally hashing things out, or something other, I couldn’t be sure.

George continued on and I was confused by his next question, “You remember the week before it?”

I just had to nod, “Vaguely.”

It’d been a normal week, him in the studio, me at work. Hadn’t seen much of each other but he still came home each night, we fell asleep together. Like always.

He huffed then sucked in a cheek, chewing on his lip in thought, eyes stuck on the horizon. “I’d leave early morning, walk around for a bit, then end up in the studio and not leave ’til late. I couldn’t sleep at night, so I’d just lie there with you. If I caught a couple hours then I’d be able to plaster on a smile for you, the guys. But my head was properly fucked. Couldn’t stop thinking. Phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Ended up drinking just to get through the days. All ‘cause I felt fucking sorry for myself.”

It didn’t make much sense. But I couldn’t bring myself to ask or to look away, sure that I’d see something in his next movement that would fill me in or maybe hear it in his words.

He toyed with the grass. “Mum phoned me a couple times before that week. She showed up the Friday before everything went to shit.”

I gave a slight nod again as I took it in, understanding a little better now. It explained his mood. How quiet he’d been. I’d reckoned he was just tired, drained from constantly working the way he did. But if his mum was involved, then I had no idea what could’ve gone down. Nothing good though.

“I’d always kept her at a distance since we’d left Manchester.” He went on to say, “We spoke when needed, saw each other when she asked. Mostly for my dad’s sake though.”

But I already knew all this.

“She turned up that Friday ‘cause I’d kept on dodging her calls. No warning. Just turned up out of the blue. And I was mainly just thankful that she’d managed to catch me on the way out, instead of at the flat with you. Didn’t want you to see her, her to see you.” George admitted quietly, eyes flicking towards me for a split second before darting away again. “No clue how she’d known where to find me either, but she’d driven all night- or so she claimed. And I felt as though I owed it to her to hear her out, so we walked on over to that little cafe on the corner of our road and she told me she couldn’t take much more.”

I frowned. “Take much more of what?”

“Me.” He laughed, a hollow sound that made me still. “Had enough of me, of the papers, the headlines. People back home. She was embarrassed apparently. And I could understand somewhat, the drugs she’d never liked, the drinking too excessive, but then she reckoned she’d been told a couple stories, yeah?”

Confused, my frown only deepened. “Stories?”

He licked at the flesh of his lip, my eyes tracked the movement then dropped down to where he was drumming his thumb on his kneecap. He wouldn’t look back at me.

“Stories. Just, gossip, you know. From the locals back home.” George stated, gaze jumping from one thing to the next. But never landing on me. “She’d hurt her hip the year before and so she’d stopped working remotely, decided to ease her hours down so that she could take things a bit easier. Dad seemed all for it when he’d let me know, having her back home. But, that meant she was actually there and I reckon that’s why people took note of her. She hadn’t been around much since the band started but you know how them lot are, they like to talk. To stick their noses in everybody else’s business but their own, wanted word on us lot down in London. If we were really making it big.”

George rolled his eyes then swiped a tongue across his front teeth. It angered him, irritated him when people felt as though they deserved to know the ins and outs of his entire life. He was a private person for the most. And I knew it agitated him more for the fact that his mum had been involved.

“What stories, George?” I asked, heart in my mouth. Because I already knew, didn’t I?

He worked his jaw, thumb still tapping relentlessly away. I wanted to reach out and still the movement, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t bare to move.

“What stories?” I prodded again, firmer this time.

“About Matt and his family, him using. Rehab. If I were the same way. You know.” George replied hurriedly, jaw still tightly wound, and I titled my head at him wanting to hear the rest of it that was bound to come. “She said some vile things, yeah? And, I don’t know. I just, it, they pissed me off. I didn’t want to stay sat there and listen to her rant, just let her go on and fucking on-”

I cut him off. “What else did she say, George?”

He closed his eyes and then slowly turned his head towards me, I saw the guilt swimming in them when they reopened, the pain, the anger. “They told her all there was to know about you. They told her all about you, Birdie.”

Suddenly my tongue was too heavy to sit comfortably in my mouth and my eyes were stinging in time to match the swelling of my throat. They’d told her about me. And I wasn’t stupid enough not to realise exactly what that meant. What had been said. I knew what they all thought of me, what they’d always thought ever since that fucking night. Knew that they still let him walk around free, that they listened to his tales, to his lies. That they whispered about my mum, the neglect, the things I’d supposedly done to have survived living in that poor house. George knew I knew too. That’s why he’d been so reluctant to say. That’s why he’d-

“That why you fucking walked out then?” I spat at him, my anger misplaced but I didn’t care. I didn’t care that he’d been the one to hold me through most of it, didn’t care for his previous claims, because he’d left, hadn’t he? And this was the fucking reason.

George opened his mouth to speak, brow pinched, but I didn’t let him get a word in edgeways.

“What, was it too much for your big rockstar image then? To have a girlfriend as fucked as me? What, were you suddenly embarrassed, George? Did your mum make you finally see sense? Reason?” I laughed bitterly and moved to stand, to walk the fuck away from him and all the emotions he pulled so effortlessly out of me, but a firm hand caught my wrist and I snapped my gaze down towards him. “Don’t grab me like that.”

Immediately George released me and he looked apologetic for a brief moment, but that anger was still there and that only sent my guard up more.

“You know fucking better than that!” He retorted heatedly, “Don’t just section me off with the rest of them, yeah? ‘Cause you know I don’t deserve that. I was fucking there! I never left. I was there through it all. And never once did you ever or have you ever embarrassed me! Not you, not your life, not your fucking story! So just don’t, eh. Don’t go and say shit like that to me. Not when we both know that it’s the furthest thing from the truth.”

“Then what am I supposed to believe, George!” I shouted back at him, tears welling in my eyes, hands fisted to keep from lashing out, to keep from breaking completely. “Because how can I not assume that, when you’ve treated me exact same way they have! When you pushed me out and fucking left without even a warning, without a reason! Tell me, what am I supposed to think!”

“I left to fucking protect you, you daft cow!” George shot back, bewildered with his face so open. “I left because there was no other fucking way to keep you safe from the rest of the fucking world! I left ‘cause she threatened to tell people, to sell it all to the tabloids or whoever the fuck would listen, if I didn’t get my act together, if I didn’t-”

“If you didn’t leave me.” I finished for him.

All the fight seemed to drain out of the two of us then. George’s head dropped in acknowledgment and I pressed my lips tightly together as I casted a blurry glance out over the rest of the garden to keep from outwardly sobbing. If I cried now, I didn’t know if I would ever stop.

“And you listened.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, rubbing at my strained eyes, the headache that had been tittering was a full blown minefield now, exploding across the length of my skull. “You listened.” I repeated and heard the way my voice cracked, how dry my throat felt.

“Of course I listened. There was nowt else I could do! You were fine being in the background, watching us. You didn’t want anything else! If I’d’ve let her leave, she would’ve told everyone. She’s fucking spiteful if nothing else, can’t stand to see me happy, would be better off seeing me skint on my arse and working in a factory than have any of this. This life. She hates it!”

“And what does she think of me now, hey? Must reckon I’m some cheap skank dirtying you up, dragging you down with me.” I scoffed at the very thought, but mostly because it felt much too close to the truth. I had been dragging him down with me and it hurt to realise that he’d probably be better off never having even laid eyes on me.

He pointed a finger towards me hotly which counteracted the way he shook his head so sadly. “Don’t say shit like that, okay? ‘Cause I know exactly what you’re thinking. I know it, because I know you. Not once have you ever, ever made me feel that way. When I’m with you-” George blew out a breathy laugh, “With you it’s like there is no one else. Don’t you get that? Didn’t you see the fucking state you left me in? I was a mess! You were the only thing ever keeping me on track. How can you not see that?”

“George, look at where you are!” I argued with him, “Look at the life you’ve built for yourself. The places you’ve been, the people you’ve met! And yet here you are, still sat with me, a florist who can hardly tie a ribbon, a girl sick beyond help, asking for another chance. You could do better, George, you know it. ”

“Fuck you.” He was angry again, but more sad than angry this time, his nose flared and his eyes were cut towards me. “Nah, honestly fuck you for saying that. For thinking it at all! ‘Cause I’m the one who left you, B. Not just once, no, not just fucking once, but twice. Twice! I should’ve manned the hell up! Pulled myself together and been there for you after that accident. Not walked away when you needed me most and left you in that ambulance! On your own! With fucking strangers there instead of me! Me! I’m not the one who deserves better, Birdie, that’s all you.”

He chuckled, though not one full of humour. One of mourning regret, the kind that seemed to catch you dizzyingly and make it so you couldn’t make any other sound. I stared at him, chest rising and falling with each trembling breath.

“And what life would I actually have if hadn’t been for you, eh? What life?” George added, prodding further, and I saw that he was crying too, silently like me, eyes shinning with unshed tears. “Because if I remember rightly, it was you that gave this all to me. You who walked in and changed everything.”

“How the fuck did I do all this then?” I laughed, more of a broken sob than anything else though, shaking my head at him with a pitiful smile. “How is this all down to me!”

“You don’t see it, do you?” He whispered to me quietly in reply and it made me realise how loud we must’ve been, screaming at the top of our lungs. “You’re the one who gave me the boys, the band. You’re the person who gave me a fucking escape, Birdie. ‘Cause you might claim to be screwed up, B. But I’m exactly that, only twice as bad.”

“You’d have gotten here in the end, G. You’re too talented not to’ve.” I told him in a defeated tone, too tired to continue on with this pissing contest anymore, to scream and shout and claim to be the worser person. He’d left me. And yeah, he’d left me more than once, but who could blame him? Who could honestly put up with the likes of me? “We all make choices and, yeah, the ones you’ve been making as of late have been shit. But we live with them. We learn. You’d’ve made something of yourself, George, with or without me.”

George sighed heavily and forced his head back to stare up at the dark night sky, whilst I wiped helplessly at my tear stained cheeks and the wetness which clung to my chin.

“But I did it with you, B.” He finally spoke before he released another breath and dropped his head down to look back at me. “And I wouldn’t change that for anything in the world. I did it with you. I did it all for you. So that me and you could leave that fucking town. So that I could keep my promise.”

My heart broke just as his voice did on that very last word.

“I love you. And I don’t care how long I have to spend proving that to you. But if it takes me the rest of my fucking life, then I’ll do it without complaint. Because you are it for me, Birdie. I’ve lived without you, and I didn’t like it much. You are the only thing I need.”

I stared at him.

“What about your mum, the fans?” I voiced the hushed question into the otherwise silent garden.

He licked at his lower lip and I watched the way his eyes flickered when he sucked in another long breath. “That’s down to you. I can’t protect you from the world, I should’ve listened when you told me that all those years ago, but I’ve learnt now. And maybe, maybe I’m scared too. Maybe I’m terrified to hurt you all over again, or for you to just give up on me. But I’m asking for a chance, and with it, I’m prepared to give up everything else.”

I cocked my head at him, confused. “What do you mean? Give what up?”

“This.” He told me plainly and I knew, my lips parted and I could only shake my head in return.

“No. No, I’d never ask you to do that, and fuck you for even thinking I would.”

George reached out to me then, hands carefully taking my forearms, an attempt to soothe me. Like old times, I thought. I wondered if he thought the same, or if it was just instinctual.

“You wouldn’t have to ask, B. And I’m not asking you to. I’m telling you now that I don’t care what I have to lose. This? This life? It means nothing without you in it. It means nothing if you aren’t here to share it all with me. I’ve lived it. I suffered through it, felt nothing but fucking regret.” He murmured and it was then that I felt the first few drops of summer rain. “A chance. That’s all I’m asking for.”

“A chance.” I mimicked, blinking at him from under wet lashes whilst raindrops came down heavier around us.

“Just a chance.” He assured me before he wiped the dampening hair from off my cheek, hands resting either side of my face. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

Part Twenty-seven>

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haveyouseenherlately · 4 days

Text

pov: you play spin the bottle

nothing crazy. just friends kissing each other.

warning: 18+, weed, boys kissing, mentions of sex. follows no timeline.

masterlist here.

that evening, you found yourself at matty's flat with the boys and some other people you didn't quite know but had definitely seen before. perhaps at previous gatherings held by george or matty. who knows. they all just wanted to get high, so that's exactly what you did.

the thing is, you hadn't smoked much prior to that night. yes, you enjoyed cigarettes (after all, you spent many hours with the lot of them) but didn't have much experience with weed. yet, you didn't want to be left alone so you agreed to go along for the ride and suffer its consequences, good or bad.

ross offered you a drag and you took it. you inhaled deeply, letting the smoke fill your lungs and cloud your mind. apparently you held it in for too long that you started having a coughing fit, a very stoned ross staring while trying not to chuckle. "are you alright?" he said. "yes" cough "yes" cough. eventually you went back to normal, catching your breath, slowly feeling the effects of the drug in your body. you almost forgot how nice it felt and wondered why you didn't do it more often.

the last time was with george, back when you were a "thing", if you could even call it that. it was a rainy night and you both sat by the open window of his bedroom, sharing a joint. you were apprehensive at first but it had been a stressful day of work, so you needed to take the edge off. the weed definitely helped, but it might've also been the sex that followed. george had been especially eager to make you moan as loud as you possibly could. you could almost feel his hands tightly grip your hips at the memory of it when suddenly someone called your name and broke your trance.

speak of the devil.

george's face came into focus and started dragging you by the arm, "c'mon, we're going to play spin the bottle." he turned around to look at you, a smirk forming on his lips as he pulled you to the circle the others had formed. you thought this game was only played by horny 14 year olds, but what the hell. what's the worst that could happen, right?

you dropped down to the floor, crossing your legs and sitting between adam and george. looking around, you noticed that everyone was on some level of a high. ross was chattier and more confident than usual, which you enjoyed as you've grown to like him quite a bit. he was always a sweet one. adam looked like he was about to fall asleep, but kept reassuring everyone that he was wide awake. sure. being high looked good on george and he knew it. the fucker was just so effortlessly cool, running his hand through his hair, joint between his fingers. you had to look away, it was just too much for you to handle at the moment. then there was matty, who couldn't stop giggling at something the girl besides him was saying. you noticed the same girl put her hand on his arm and it make you feel a strange sensation. you weren't sure why, though.

a loud clap echoed in the room. "alright, everyone, here we go. i'll be the brave one and start." george announced while he spun the empty bottle of wine on the floor. you watched as the bottle slowed down, lifting your head to take notice of the lucky chosen person, none other than ross macdonald. he shot george a look, let out a big sigh, then laughed when it finally hit him what he had to do. "fine!" he conceded, getting up and stumbling over to plant a kiss right on george's lips. he immediately cupped ross's face, returning the kiss with a satisfying smack, leaving you pretty certain they'd done this before. there were cheers and some claps, making george feel smug and ross blushing as he settled back down.

next up was matty. he spun the bottle in one swift movement, landing on... ross. "looks like luck's on your side today, macdonald." the taller boy rolled his eyes, took a quick drag of his joint, and rose up to walk towards matty. he knelt before his friend, and this time it was ross who gently cupped the curly boy's face, pulling him close until their lips met. you could tell that gesture made matty excited as his hands tangled in soft brown hair. there was no question that tongues were involved, and only breaking apart once ross pushed matty away, cheeks flushed as he headed back to his seat.

the game continued and to your dismay, george ended up kissing and feeling up the very pretty girl who sat next to matty. adam had to kiss ross (surprise), but this one was just a quick peck on the lips. then it was your turn.

"let's see who gets the pleasure of kissing her. i can assure you won't be disappointed," george joked and you stuck up two fingers right in front of his face. "it won't be you, if that's what you're hoping." you smirked and grabbed the bottle.

it wasn't until you had it in your hand that you realized how high you were, immediately making you nervous of fucking up the kiss. such a childish concern, but you couldn't help it in you state. you put the bottle on the floor, giving it a hasty spin and silently praying it wouldn't point to george. it wouldn't be the worst as you'd know what to expect but you didn't want to give him the satisfaction, especially not in front of others.

it felt like the bottle took ages to slow down and once it stopped, your ears started ringing, drowning everyone's cheers as you realized matty had to kiss you.

you slowly sat back down on your heels, tugging at the hem of your skirt and feeling your cheeks turn bright red. it wasn't until you lifted your gaze that you noticed matty had stood up and was walking in your direction, stopping to kneel right in front of you.

he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and looked at you as if asking for permission to continue. you mindlessly bit your bottom lip and he took this as a his cue, leaning forward, pressing his mouth to yours.

maybe it was the weed or the adrenaline or both, but you were certain time stopped at that moment, which allowed you to melt on his lips. he tasted like honey and it was intoxicating. to your surprise, you kissed back eagerly, grabbing at the collar of his white shirt, bringing him closer to you.

again, it was probably the drugs, but you thought you heard him quietly moan when your thumb lightly touched the side of his neck.

you didn't want it to end, but you had to pull away as you had no idea how much time had passed. opening your eyes, you found matty's soft gaze fixed on yours. you smiled at each other and laughed nervously, yet no awkwardness was felt between the both of you.

suddenly you realized you still had a tight grip on his collar. "oh, um, sorry." you let go, trying to tidy down his now wrinkled shirt. "no worries," he murmured quietly, planting a quick peck on your cheek followed by another on your lips.

matty got up to go back to his spot, but not before he told george that he was right, you were indeed an excellent kisser. the tall boy just glared at matty and decided that the game was over because it was getting boring. you couldn't help but burst out laughing, prompting george to storm out of the room. oops.

"what's gotten into him now?" the blissfully oblivious, high adam asked. "i reckon matthew might have just kissed the girl he fancies," ross mentioned while getting up to fetch another joint. adam looked at you. oooh.

you chuckled and stood up, glancing over your shoulder to find deep caramel eyes gazing longingly in your direction once more.

#matty healy imagine #matty healy x reader #george daniel x reader #matty healy x you #george daniel x you #fluff #the 1975 fic #the 1975 fanfic #matty #matty healy #the 1975

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abiiors · 8 months

Text

three's a party 🍸// george daniel x reader x ross macdonald

a/n: hi. thank you so much to my darlings @bookish-strawberry and @ughgoaway for helping me with some of the scenes!!! this is quite tame compared to some of the others i read for "research" but it is still quite...porny. this note is so long, but i'm just rambling because i'm nervous!!! anyway, here, have this unholy piece of writing with barely any plot

cw: threesome (obv), "good girl" and other feminine words/pronouns, uhhhh...yeah, just. general nastiness.

wc: 3.6k

the pub lights are dim, ambient. people chatter around you in low volume, a friendly humdrum of couples out on date nights and old friends catching up, it’s nice—this place. the food is good, the alcohol is even better; the playlist is just the right mix of sensual and exciting. absolutely perfect for a casual first date.

except for the man in front of you who drones on and on and on about one thing or the other—none of which you have given two shits about in your entire existence. but now you have to sit there and pretend that the local football team—the bulls or the foxes or some other inane animal—are the most riveting conversation you’ve ever had.

you also have to pretend like you haven’t been checking out other people sitting at the bar, laughing and joking and having way more fun than you in general—the group of drunk girls out on a friday night, couples on dates, two men sat at the edge of the bar who haven't stopped glancing your way since you first walked in.

a blond and a brunet, one with a sharp, clean-shaven face, the other with a softer face and a thick, dark beard. one with close-cropped and buzzed hair, the other with long hair tied up. two ends of the spectrum, yet they both have the same aura of je ne sais quoi about them. it’s tempting, distracting. and certainly a million times better than whatever’s happening in front of you.

every time one of them looks over at you, you lower your eyes coyly, pretend to be engrossed in a conversation with your date—nodding along to whatever he’s saying and laughing when he pauses expectantly. it’s truly a testament to his intelligence that he hasn’t caught up to your little game yet.

the blond man looks at you again, intense eyes and a full pink mouth. his eyes linger, lazily staring you from head to toe in your tight black first-date dress. then out the corner of your eye, you watch him mumble something to his friend.

he’s a bit subtle, turning only slightly and checking you out from the corner of his eyes, making sure he doesn’t get caught every time you look over in their general direction.

your date clears his throat.

“so i was thinking we could get one more drink and…take this back to my place?”

well… shit

“i had a lot of fun…” you begin, trying to hide the wince in your words but your date’s face falls as realisation finally dawns. “but i don’t—”

“so you’ve wasted my time then,” he cuts you off, nostrils flaring in anger as he clutches his beer pint harder than necessary.

“excuse me?”

“bitch,” he spits under his breath yet you hear it clearly.

all you can do is roll your eyes at his petulance. the glasses clatter as he stands up abruptly, gathering the attention of a few people nearby. you’re beyond feeling any sort of embarrassment; and why should you? it’s not you making a scene.

“classy,” you mutter, taking a leisurely sip of your aperol spritz.

it’s great, no reason for you to ruin a perfectly good evening for a little bitch baby. in your peripheral vision, the two men snicker. the rational part of your brain knows they’re laughing at an inside joke; nothing to do with you. but your delusional brain can’t stop imagining the two of them listening in on your conversation, smirking at your date’s little temper tantrum. you take your own sweet time finishing your drink after he leaves. he’s already out of your mind before he’s even halfway across the pub. you can finally indulge in your other pursuits after all.

“well, that was a pathetic date."

it's after fifteen minutes when you've sought solace in the first floor balcony of the pub. a few people loiter in the nooks and corners, making out and sneaking quick puffs of cigarettes, some wait for their turn to use the loo. some linger in search of peace.

you focus your attention on the stranger.

his voice is deep, deeper than you would have imagined. there’s a gravelly and rough edge to it that makes his words skitter down your bones. even just the way he walks towards you, slow and leisurely, has you hypnotised and transfixed on him. but you won’t be swayed so easily.

“are you always this straightforward with strangers?”

he comes to a stop a few inches away from you and leans against the railing; his body mirroring yours. his spicy cologne permeates the air around you. it's a struggle to not inhale sharply and get a lungful of it. even in your heels, you’re a good few inches shorter than him.

“no,” he shrugs and the movement makes his arm brush against yours ever so slightly, “i guess you caught my eye.”

you attribute the goosebumps on your arms to the chilly night air even as a small voice in your head reminds you that it’s august.

“george,” he extends a hand. it’s big, rough-looking with callouses all over his palms. either he’s a gym rat with pretty show muscles, or… you can’t exactly place the or. but it leads to quite a few interesting theories.

“your…friend didn’t come out with you?”

the man—george—raises an eyebrow, either at the way you leave his hand hanging in mid-air or at the mention of his friend but he does a rather good job of hiding his surprise. if he even felt any, to begin with.

“why? you’re more interested in my friend?”

a small part of you almost purrs in delight at the tinge of jealousy in his tone. good, possessive men know how to make nights like these into memorable ones. his fingers curl slightly, ready to put the extended hand down. the nicotine stains on them should have put you off a long time ago. instead, you find yourself looking at those fingers; imagining things you really shouldn’t.

“you always answer questions with more questions?” you bite your bottom lip, letting just the hint of a smile ghost over your mouth. let him work to figure out your tone. your intentions.

george chuckles deeply, sucking air between his teeth, and about to say something when you hear the second set of footsteps. these are imperceptibly heavier, almost like you know who it is…

a smirk curls up your mouth as george turns around to look at—

“ross…” he says quietly.

possessive men know how to have wild nights.

possessive men are also…incredibly easy to predict.

george is behind you, pressed up against your naked ass, hard and thick. the only thing that separates you are his cotton brief. it only took you fifteen minutes to decide to take both the men home with you. and judging from the minimum resistance you got from either of them, one thing is clear—this isn’t their first rodeo.

“you feel this, darling?,” george whispers, mouth brushing over the shell of your ear while rolling your nipple softly between his fingers.

it’s a lot of stimulation. it’s the good kind of stimulation, the kind that has your toes curling and your thighs shaking. and if it weren’t for the other man kneeling between your legs, holding you up with his hand on your hips, you would have fallen to your knees a long time ago.

“mm–yes, fuck, it feels good,” you moan, head rolling back to rest against george’s chest. your fingers are tangled up in ross’ hair, long graceful fingers twisting and turning traces of his soft hair between them, guiding him as he licks and sucks your clit until you’re nothing but a wet trembling mess.

ross won’t be outdone so easily. he hums against you, sending vibrations that shoot through your entire body at lightning speed. “is he making you feel better than i am, baby?” he pouts, stopping entirely.

his beard glistens in the ambient lights of the room as he stares at you with intense, blown-out eyes. a whine escapes you, your fingers tighten in his hair—tugging at it harshly and making him groan. it’s so close to your cunt, enough for you feel it but not close enough. you writhe against george, trying to thrust your hips back into ross’ face, trying to get him to continue. but george tsks.

“not before you answer him, baby.” his fingers are back to pinching your nipples; pain and pleasure blending in together in a heady mix. “don’t we deserve to know?”

his voice is gruffer than before, barely restrained—a man so used to commanding people that it rolls off his tongue effortlessly.

ross smirks when you mumble something incoherently, ready to finish what he started but george is not satisfied. “use your words, darling.”

it sends a spark of desperate annoyance through you, clearing the fog in your brain. “ross is better,” you grit out, guiding the man back between your legs smirking at the way george tenses behind you.

for someone who seems so calm and composed he certainly has a competitive streak…

ross grazes his teeth against you, licking it after—almost like a reward for declaring him the winner. you throw a leg over his shoulder, hissing at the way his tongue has better access now, crying out when he swipes his fingers against your folds almost lazily.

you suck in a sharp breath, ready to cry out again but the scream dies in your throat. rather, it’s strangled—literally—by george wrapping his free hand around it, applying pressure to the sides.

“you want to be a brat?” he tsks again, “she wants to be a brat, ross.”

ross laughs breathlessly, letting go of you for just a second, “you’re just a sore loser.” he smirks, eyes alight with mirth. there’s a hint of danger in them, not the kind you sense in george—one that comes with a touch of sadism. ross’ brand of danger feels more arrogant. someone who knows what effect he has on people, on women. he’s not a taker. he’s a giver. and right now, he looks at you like he’d give anything to watch you fall apart with his name on your lips.

the almost lack of oxygen has your head spinning, combined with the knot pulled taut in your stomach—it’s almost impossible to stand up, to make your legs hold you up. but that’s what george is here for.

his fingers adapt a rougher pace, pinching and flicking your nipples, matching ross’s movements. your mind feels like it’s torn both ways, fighting hard to keep track of two sensations, two feelings. it’s too much.

a string of curses fall from your lips. “gonna cum,” you plead, struggling against ross, desperately trying to get more and more and so much more. “can i cum, please. please–fuck.”

“what should we do, george?” ross hums, ignoring you entirely. his nails dig into your ass, feeling up the curves and the firm muscles. you are nothing but a toy in his hands, for him to use and control. all your bossiness from before melts away as soon as george snakes a hand around your waist, stroking ross’ head and guiding it the way he wants to.

ross doesn’t resist, he only chuckles, making you cry out pleas once again.

“have you earned it, sweetheart?” george asks, whispery rough voice burrowing on the insides of your skull.

have you?

you nod, or try to at least. it’s hard when your head rests limply on his chest, throat gripped between his hands.

“please, yes. i’ll do what you want, pl–fuck, fuck.”

“whatever we want?”

“whatever yo–you want.”

“go on then,” george pinches your nipple, twisting it between his fingers, “give him a taste.”

he’s barely halfway through the sentence when you scream out incoherently, falling apart as waves after waves of pleasure hit you all at once. everything goes white for a split second, all that remains is intoxicating pleasure. you have no sense of time, of self. only that one man holds you up as the other laps at your folds greedily, licking away every last drop of what you have to offer.

“want a taste?” ross smirks. his voice sounds like it’s coming from somewhere under water. you’re unsure if you can stand up on your own just yet. vestiges of the orgasm course through you, heady and hot. “she’s fucking sweet, george, like honey.”

ross stands up, right in front of you, tall and imposing. and for the first time, you’re between both of them, feeling their sweaty skin on yours, inhaling them greedily.

“open your mouth,” he commands, fingers taking hold of your chin and roughly tilting it up. you know what’s coming as you watch the sinister half-smile on his face. and oh how delightlfully right you are.

the moment you open your mouth for him, ross spits in it; saliva mixed with your slick still coating his tongue.

“good girl,” he whispers, turning your face to george who captures your mouth in a rough kiss. his tongue flicks on the insides of your mouth, searching, tasting you and ross together. he moans, satisfied. “now about that promise…”

“be a good girl and get on all fours”

it’s a shock to you how ross takes charge when he wants to. george doesn’t contradict him, he only watches with vague amusement as you try holding yourself up on shaking arms and legs, drenched in sweat and thighs sticky with your own slick.

your entire body buzzes with adrenaline, shivers racking down your spine, still needy for more and more, still wanting to please the men who have been pleasing you for… what feels like hours now.

“now,” george says, walking up to you and stopping just in front of you, “you can take both of us, can’t you?”

you peer up at george, tall and imposing george who looks at you with such blatant lust that it makes a tiny moan slip out of you. you can, you have been dying to do just that. now you look at him through your eyelashes and through the sweaty hair sticking to your forehead, falling in your eyes.

“yes,” you nod eagerly, “please, yes.”

the men smile, all teeth and hardness and intensity—it’s intoxicating. almost hypnotising, you get on your knees, hand drifting between your legs one more time just to feel the friction again but ross is quicker.

“ah–ah!” he quickly catches your wrist, before it’s even reached past your navel. “that’s our job, darling. all you need to do is get on all fours and look pretty.”

“but she already is so pretty,” george tsks, palming himself through his briefs. his cock is a stark, thick outline that stands out, making you drool. if he already looks so big and delicious then how good would it be to feel him on your tongue and stretching out your mouth?

the moment stretches on—you on all fours, on trembling, shaky limbs, waiting there like a good little slut for either one of these men to fill you up.

george continues to play with himself, fingers dipping in and out of the waistband of his underwear, touching and teasing. until finally he pulls his boxers down. you watch, transfixed as george shamelessly pumps himself in front of you, head thrown back, throaty moans echoing in the room as he slides his fist around his cock. you stare, eager and waiting, almost leaning forward.

behind you, ross is silent. you can almost imagine him staring at the scene in front of him in awe and lust. you try to imagine it from his perspective. your dripping swollen cunt right in front of him growing wetter still the more you watch george.

“don’t tease,” you almost whine, unable to take more of this. you need to know what he tastes like. and you need it now.

“eager, are we?” george asks, walking up to you. “are you not pleasing her enough, ross?” he tuts and ross chuckles; throaty and distracted.

you get little warning before you feel ross sliding a finger up your slit, lazily collecting your wetness and then the tell-tale sound of his tongue lapping it up from his fingers. it’s filthy and disgusting, it makes you arch your back and drives you almost crazy with want.

“i could do better than your hand.” your grin matches george’s who comes to a stop in front of you.

“guess she likes me better, ross.”

ross huffs, “we’ll see.”

before you have the chance to respond, ross draws a hiss of pleasure out of you. his length drags against your cunt, almost between your ass cheeks, sliding just the tip in. no further. red, hot need spears through you. if the men are determined to tease and taunt you then it’s for you to take matters into your own hands.

before george can registers it, you cup a hand around his ass, pulling him forward until his cock practically rests on your face.

a thick vein runs along the side, pulsating, practically inviting you to trace it with your sharp fingernail. you let your tongue swirl over his slit, humming at the salty taste of his precum. george moans as the vibrations of your hum hit. ross moves his hips slowly, almost pulling out before slamming into you fully. the force of it has you choking on george, gagging around him, drooling messily.

“breathe,” he commands softly, stroking your hair. you do as he tells you, relaxing your throat more and letting his weight rest on your tongue.

the sides of your mouth burn from the stretch, black, glittery mascara tears stain your face. and yet all you care about is this, here, now. it’s fullness like you’ve never experienced before, delicious and thick, drawing out gasps and moans from you that mix with his grunts.

“such a perfect girl,” he coos, “isn’t she ross? doesn’t she feel fucking great?”

ross hums behind you, thrusting into you again at a steady pace. shameless need and lust pools in your belly, bleeds through your veins as you trace along george’s cock with your tongue. his fingers remain tangled in your hair, guiding you, commanding you to please him as he wishes.

you hollow our your cheeks, licking and sucking until his hips move in much the same pace as ross’ do.

ross’ hand snakes up your waist, between your legs again, finding your clit again to rub and pinch, to make you whine. each one of his flicks makes you moan around george, sending small hums of pleasure right up his spine. he looks blissed out, head rolling and eyes half-lidded. a surge of pride runs through you at the sight.

ross’ fingers dig into your hips, bruising the soft flesh. twinges of pain intertwine with sparks of pleasure as he pushes in, stretching you out and filling you in.

“taking me so well, sweetheart,” he praises. the term of endearment from his mouth makes your knees weak and your legs tremble but ross holds you up, slamming into you until he bottoms out again and again.

flesh slaps against flesh—rhythmic sounds punctuated by guttural grunts. the position you’re in allows ross to thrust deeper each time, hitting your g-spot repeatedly. if your mouth weren’t otherwise occupied, he would have had you mewling by now. but that doesn’t mean you don’t let out the occasional whimpers as you continue to bob your head up and down george’s dick.

the man is close, you can tell. his cock twitches and spasms in your mouth. he has lost some of his rhythm, hips bucking wildly as he chases his pleasure. you can’t help but caress the base of his cock with your hand, moving it lower to softly squeeze his balls.

“shit–shit,” he curses loudly, “do that again.”

so you oblige, letting your nails graze on the sensitive skin. within seconds, you feel his hold tightening in your hair. george fucks your mouth with wild abandon, careless thrusts—he couldn't care less about the drool dribbling down your chin, about your tear-stained face. the burn around your lips.

“gonna cum, darling, doing so well,” he grounds out. your own body mirrors the feelings as ross continues to thrust faster and faster.

the knot in your stomach tightens, blood pumps through your veins, infused with lightning until the bitter-salty taste of cum fills your mouth. george cums, groaning loudly and shooting spurts of his release down your throat that you lap up hungrily. some of it dribbles down the side of your chin but you don’t swallow just yet. instead, you open your mouth wide open for him to have a look.

“you’re killing me,” he swears, trying to get a grip on himself. only then do you swallow, whining loudly when ross pinches your clit, kneading the bundle of nerves in rough circles.

“go on,” he commands, “cum for us. wanna feel you around me before i fill you up.”

it only takes one more thrust from ross before you’re almost falling down face first from the force of the orgasm that hits you. vaguely you’re aware of ross cumming inside you, of it spilling down your thighs, mixing with your own release. vaguely you’re aware of george falling to his knees in front of you, legs still spasming as he watches you fall apart again and again.

you cry out something unintelligent—perhaps their names, perhaps something else. the world blacks out, until slow, blurred images creep back into your line of sight.

the beginning of the night, the pathetic date is long gone from your mind. right now all you can think of is ecstacy.

and then perhaps a round two.

lemme know what you think <3

taglist: @scooby-doodoo, @partoftheairforce, @beachesgetpeaches, @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855

add yourself to the taglist

#RIGHT. GOODBYE.#ross macdonald #george daniel #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald x you #george daniel x reader #george daniel x you #ross macdonald smut #george daniel smut #the 1975 #the 1975 smut #matty healy #adam hann #smut writing #smut fic #minors do not interact #female reader #the 1975 fic #three/some

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kennedy-brooke · 8 months

Text

Dress pt. 2

George Daniel x (Fem)Reader

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 <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

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yourtouchismidas · 11 months

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reading what the new yorker has to say about george and how he radiates utter stillness (very hot) has given me so many ideas, like imagine him with someone who has the absolute shortest fuse ever. idk maybe while he believes in quiet, stoic intimidation, girlie (a foot shorter than him) just gets into a bar fight. maybe she sees a couple of much older men getting a bit too comfy with young girls just trying to have a fun night and she's ready to throw hands. firm believer that george has to actually pick her up and take her away so she doesn't get arrested. also a firm believer of the fact that he finds it insanely attractive and shows it to her quite generously

(the possibilities are endless 😌)

you're drunk. its fucking great and you're having an amazing time. the music is loud. everyone is dancing. you're grinding on some girl you havent ever met, dont even know, and your boyfriend and his bandmates are all at the bar, sipping beers and laughing at you. with the exception of matty who is right there on the dancefloor with you, jumping around and pumping his fist.

ugh george. you love him. you love his face. his cheek bones. his smile when he laughs at you. you give him a cute little wave and he winks at you, barely moving apart from that. then you go back to dancing. god life is good.

you've lost the girl you were dancing with before but you dance with matty for a bit, his curls bouncing, you whooping, egging him on, and him grabbing your hands and spinning you around. when he does, he takes a step back and accidentally nudges a girl behind him, and her and her friends turn to you both, you meeting their eyes as you finish you spin.

matty holds his hands up, "sorry, sorry,"

they glare at him. you pull matty away and start dancing again, saying sorry yourself. the girls turn away. they sip thier drinks. but they aren't moving. thier standing on the dance floor. not dancing. there is plenty of space over by the bar to stand, if they want. you wave at george again, who is standing in the space, like a good boy.

oh well. fuck them. you're having a good night. you just wish they would stop glaring at you, because they are again, in between the gaps matty's arms make. you spin him around so your back is to them instead, so they wont get upset with him again if he nudges them, because he might, because he is drunk too.

you dont know if your feet actually land on hers, you dont feel it, and okay they might have, but the girl yells out.

"erm. ow!" she says. you turn around.

"sorry," you say again, even though you're not even sure you touched her.

"you stood on my foot," she says.

"i'm sorry," you say again, not sure what she wants you to do.

"you should be a bit fucking more careful, you know."

you breathe in. you were being careful. but thats not the point. its a dance floor. in a club. it's one in the morning. and they are standing on it. you start to burn, in your chest, angry.

"you know there is plenty of space over there if you dont wanna dance," you say, pointing to the bar. george notices you point. his attention pricks. he looks over to where you are talking to a group of girls and one of them is giving you a dirty look.

"we can stand where we want thanks," she says. "just like you act like a twat wherever you are."

"woah, alright," matty says, stopping dancing.

"what's this guy's problem anyway?" the girl says, looking round at her friends.

"we don't have a problem," matty says.

"we might," you say, staring at her. george has put his beer down on the side. ross is already primed, ready to watch it, if needs be.

"no no, just go back to dancing," matty says, smiling big at the girls.

"go back to standing in everyone's fucking way you mean," you say.

"shut the fuck up," the girl says, stepping closer to you.

you're in it now, you can't back down, you cant let this girl win. you step towards her too.

"i'll do what i like, thanks though."

the girl shoves you. everyone around you moves. you're reaching out to shove her, and before you know it, george is in the crowd with you, hand on your shoulder and waist, firm, looking down at the girl that shoved you. she has to look up to see his face.

"everything okay here?" he says, mainly to the other girl.

she nods. but she's smirking. she looks back at her friends, smirking. you lunge, out of his protective grasp, towards her. she steps back, trips a little, spills her pink drink all down her white dress. you dont reach her. georges arms have got you again, but this time, he is lifting you into the air.

"come on," he says, "be the bigger person,"

"i dont want to," you say squirming. the girl is crying, looking down at her ruined dress while all the other girls flock around her and fawn over her.

"dont have to," george says, nudging you to look at her, sobbing. you smirk.

george turns to carry you out, but before he does, he turns back to the girls and says, almost monotone, "ladies, if you're not gonna dance, dont stand on the dancefloor. it's good advice"

and then you're both gone, into the night air, into your boyfriend's arms.

#george daniel x reader #george daniel x you #george daniel x oc #george daniel x y/n #george daniel fanfiction #the 1975 fanfiction #the 1975 fanfic #george daniel #george daniel imagine #george daniel fic

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justanamesstuff · 5 months

Text

If I could, I'd choose you (Royal!au)

Matty Healy x f!reader (and a bit of Prince!George)

A/N: Hiii guys, i come back with a royal!au i wrote AGES ago! I hope you like it...let me know!! <333

Warnings: hurt feelings, mention of death, typos.

Word count: 3.3 K

MASTERLIST

One year ago the kingdom went to war with a long life enemy. The kingdom won the war and

brought back home many treasures, but sadly they lost many people as well. The victory was bittersweet.

Among those brave men and women, the king gave his own life for the sake of the better good. With the supreme gone for good, the heir to the throne had to step in. Problem was, the king had three daughters: Y/n, Victoria and Angelica. Before Y/n was born the first the king and his helpers decided what would happen if he decided to decline or in the other case died.

During her entire life Y/n lived with the idea that someday she will be queen. At the very beginning, she felt lost and insecure. Since Y/n was only a little girl, running around the castle with her sister, she was far from sure about her being a good ruler or if she could do it without her father along her side. Time went by, and the little girl turned out to be a very confident woman, ready to rule since the first minute someone told her.

Duty called and Y/n answered for her people right away. Although she was still a young girl who suffered the loss of her father with her little sisters. On the contrary when they lost their mother, they were alone in the world except for the company of each other and most of the decisions– not to say all– fell on Y/n’s shoulders.

One of the many decisions she had to make was to find a husband. One of the big rules her father insisted was that when Y/n became queen she had to marry a wealthy man. Y/n hated her father for that, because she felt very capable of ruling on her own without a partner. Also, she didn’t have the time or energy for courtship, she had a lot of important matters to deal with instead of wasting her time.

Y/n tried to delay the choice as long as she could, although the time was ticking and her advisors -a couple of old men very old-fashioned- insisted on the matter every day a little more. So, despite her complaints the royal ball for Y/n to choose a husband was in the making.

She felt bad because, despite her opinions about it, the whole kingdom woke up. After a difficult war, with many losses and suffering, there wasn’t a single soul unhappy for this. The news about the influential men and princes that will come travelled fast and cheered everyone up. All of them were happy except Y/n.

………………..

The morning of the ball, Y/n woke up sensing her body vibrating with anxiety and wishing she could run away from this madness. But the sense of responsibility and duty keep her in place. Well, not in place exactly because she started to walk around the throne room from one side to the other.

“Why are you huffing now?” Victoria, her sister, came in, interrupting Y/n’s thoughts.

Y/n turned to look at her, with an annoying face,“You know why!”

“The marring stuff?” she walked closer to her, while her velvet dress flew between her feet.

“Yes” she simply stated.

Victoria rolled her eyes visibly, “You’re making a big deal out of it…”

“Excuse me?” Y/n exclaimed.

“You heard me.”

“Yes, but watch out. I am…” the queen went to scold her, but Victoria interrupted.

“Yeah, yeah…the Queen. You still have to wait for the coronation to say that…” Y/n’s sister reminded her.

“Victoria!” Y/n warned her.

The girl was unbothered by her sisters words, she continued walking away from her going to sit at the throne. “As I was saying…”

Y/n stopped her this time, “I’m not making a big deal. I don’t understand why I have to marry someone I don’t know at all, just to claim my right of birth.”

“Because that’s the rule!”

“I know that part, but still…”

“Y/n, just do it and live your happy life as the Queen.”

“I can’t.” Y/n said looking down.

Victoria stood up, coming closer. “You can, and you will!” Victoria said, lower, reaching for her sister’s hand. “You’ll be the best Queen this fucking- “

“Victoria, watch your mouth!” Y/n interrupted.

“This place would ever have, and no matter which asshole-” Y/n huffed again. “Which man you marry, you’ll rule! Not your husband, not me, not the servants…you! It’s just like a procedure, okay?”

Deep down she was thankful for her sister’s words, even though her mind was foggy with thoughts about her father and the future. And more importantly…who would be the man she married? What if she ended up hating him?

“It’s easy for you to say.” Y/n walked away.

“Do you want to marry for love?” she inquired.

“That would be very idealistic, unrealistic of me to expect a love…” Y/n said trying to convince herself.

Who didn’t want to marry for love and not because of an arrangement? Maybe somebody, but not her. At the same time, she had no choice.

“Yeah, but…” Victoria tried once more.

“It doesn’t matter.” Y/n shook her head, stopping her sister. “I’ll choose somebody suitable today and that will be the end of this nonsense.” she stated, stretching the wrinkles of her dress while walking away.

Y/n didn’t look a way, or she would’ve seen her sister's empathy filing her eyes.

………………………………………

The party was in its highest peak. Y/n didn’t know how many men she greeted, and her face was hurting for all the smiling. The soon-to-be Queen was beyond exhausted and frustrated too.

No one, not a single soul seems suitable or slightly good for the place they’ll have to fill.

In line awaited three more princes. One of the servants was in charge of announcing the names one by one to later approach her presence.

“Prince George Bedford Daniel, Kingdom of Ocaton.” the loyal servant shout for everyone to hear.

The prince walked forward without dropping the eye contact. Those hazelnut piercing eyes playing a battle with hers, made Y/n felt observed and insecure for a minute.

“Princess Y/n, it’s a pleasure to meet your highness.” the tall blonde said while he bowed.

Y/n extended her hand, which George answered kissing her rings. “The pleasure it’s all mine.” the princess didn’t know how many times she said the same sentence.

“It is?” he crocked an eyebrow.

“Excuse me?” she was shocked by his abrupt answer.

“Pardon me, your highness. I can tell you met more eloquent men this night.” he said, smiling with sarcasm.

“Sir!” one of her advisors tried to warn him about his attitude.

“Don’t worry, Philip.” she turned to look at him, and then returned her sight to George. “I can manage him.” she gifted the old man a smile. “Replying to you, Prince…” Y/n inquired him, faking not remembering his name.

“George, my princess.”

Y/n didn’t acknowledge the possessive pronoun. “Right. Well, I’m happy about meeting all of them…all of you, my guests.“

“Yes, I can perfectly tell.” George kept the amused tone, surprising Y/n once more. “Can I tell you how stunning you look in that dress, princess?” he asked, cheekily gaining a smile from Y/n

After many boring candidates George was a breeze of something different she found quite interesting and seductive. Y/n still have two more candidates waiting for her attention, so he would have to wait.

“Thank you. You look adequate for the situation, Prince.” she teased him.

George found it amusing, replying, “It was what I was aiming for, your highness. ” Y/n tried to hide her chuckle, but the man noticed it.

Containing her laugh, Y/n ended the conversation with a simple, “Hope you enjoy the evening, my prince.” finally dispatching him.

“Until next time, Y/n.” he lined down kissing her hand once more before leaving without looking back at her.

****

The next candidate was pretty much the same as the previous before Matty. Hence why, Y/n didn’t spend more than a minute talking with him, listening to the stupid speech the advisors of the prince –with a flat personality– made him memorize probably.

“Sir Matthew Timothy Healy.” the servant screamed the name of the last men.

Since the first moment Y/n placed her eyes on him, her entire body tingled and burned. She was shocked by this unknown causing a reaction on her. Y/n couldn’t keep her eyes away from him. He was shorter than George but not for much. His eyes were brown, like hers, but shined brighter than any others. His brown locks were perfectly and imperfectly at the same time arranged in the top of her head.

As if he knew what colour her dress would be, Thomas wore a blue suit which defined his body in the most beautiful way. Physically, he was perfect. The definition of the prince her father always talked about for her.

“It is a great pleasure to meet such a beautiful Queen.” he said, looking directly into her eyes.

“Princess. Soon to be Queen.” she replied.

“Pardon me, your highness?”

“It’s my pleasure to meet you.” she continued the conversation.

Y/n wanted to listen to his voice forever, she was very sure she would never get tired of it, of him. His voice was mellow and rhythmic, inviting her to drown into his beautiful melody. He captivated her.

“Are you satisfied with the candidates?” he dared to ask.

“Watch your place, Matthew.” she said sternly but sweet.

“I only want to know if I have a proper competitor or if I’m winning already.” he smirked. From sweet, he turned to a little bit cocky and that was another refreshing moment during the boring night.

“You’ll have to wait for my answer…as the rest of the men.” Y/n answered.

“I’m looking forward to it.” he lined down and kissed her cheek.

Y/n froze on her place even though before she could acknowledge the action or even say something, Matty was gone and out of her sight. Her heart was pounding so loud in her chest that probably everyone could hear it above the music.

The princess had to decide, although between all the people she met that night she had only two options.

……………………………….

Y/n was talking with her advisors and letting them know what she thought about the men they chose for her when Victoria stumbled in her private conference room.

“Princess Victoria, you have to wait outside until we finished!” Philip reprimanded her.

“I want to speak with my sister.” the young princess demanded in her place anxiously. Probably the men in the room didn’t notice her bubbly feelings but Y/n knew her sister as the back of her hand.

“It’s all right. I already finished expressing my opinions and heard yours, when I have a final decision I’ll go out and speak to the waiting room.” all of them moved their heads in agreement, proceeding to leave the room.

Victoria couldn’t contain herself and started talking. “I meet the love of my life!” she screamed, sitting down abruptly in a chair near Y/n’s.

“Oh, really?” Y/n said suspiciously. Victoria tended to fall in love with many men along the way and never truly persuade a relationship.

“Yes, he’s perfect. He’s handsome and dresses very nicely. He’s a gentleman and…I love him.” she sighed romantically.

“That’s quick.” Y/n bitterly said.

Victoria turned looking at her older sister, stunned, “You don’t believe me.”

“Who is this prince?” Y/n decided to ignore her words because she knew it was useless to tell her sister anything involving love and feelings.

“He’s not a prince. He’s a Sir.” Victoria looked at her, waiting for a reaction. Y/n didn’t show a single change on her face, but her body got warm again. Sir Matthew was around the castle, and she wanted to talk to him again.

“And that’s fine for you?” Y/n asked.

“Yes, he’s the love of my life!” Y/n admire the self-confidence she had to say that so easily.

“Do you know his name?”

“Yes!” Victoria smiled even more widely if that was possible.

“And?” Y/n grew anxious.

“His name is Matthew.” with that sentence Y/n’s world fell apart.

She knew they were talking about the same man that captivated her half an hour ago. Right away, Y/n understood why her sister was so sure about it, and she knew very well that her desires couldn’t be fulfilled.

Y/n needed, had to make the better decision not for her heart but for the kingdom and for her family. Matty was a Sir and George was a Prince, she couldn’t pass above that fact. And with the information of her sister wanting Matthew for herself, the decision was already made.

“Tell me more.” Y/n said absently, letting her sister rambling about this new man while her heart broke bit by bit.

…………………………………………

The night of the ball ended with Y/n’s assistance, Philip, announcing that George was the choosing one by the soon-to-be Queen. After that, Y/n gave a short speech thanking all the candidates and promising George her willingness to build a good and prosper alliance.

During her turn to speak, Y/n couldn’t look at Matty. Although, she felt his sight on her. Y/n would’ve to live with the pain weighing in her heart.

Matty understood right away why Y/n chose George, but it hurt him deeply. Sir Matthew felt his heart settle down for Y/n since the moment he saw her standing, listening to boring men without a single grimace of annoyance. He admired her and felt very fond of Y/n.

Healy decided that no matter what he wouldn’t run away like a wounded animal. He would be close to her and help in everything he could, or she asked him.

Matty wasn’t ready to walk away, so he decided to turn all his love and caring to Victoria who was obviously whiling to accept whatever he offered. He proposed to her right away after Y/n’s engagement and Victoria accepted without skipping a beat. Since their father was gone, Matthew had to ask Y/n for Victoria’s hand, and he would never forget the pain on her face when she muttered her approval.

It was so frustrating for both of them because they only had the chance to properly talk only once, and they never shared a proper kiss, but the love was there. Matty and Y/n could feel it, even though they’ll never tell anyone…or the other. They weren’t selfish people. He was sure of it. Both of them knew that it was a better option for everyone.

****

Even though the day of the ceremony something itched him thinking about what he was going to witness, what the whole kingdom would. The ceremony would declare Y/n and Harrison as a married couple, as the new rulers, Queen and King. Matthew’s heart felt heavy.

During the morning of Y/n’s wedding, Matty felt the need to find Y/n and tell her about his feelings, or do something. He didn’t want to live his life letting this opportunity slip through his fingers.

He ran around the castle looking for her. Matty thought numerous people would be surrounding her although to his surprise, two guards await at her door and not a single sound could be heard. Even the clicking of his shoes was louder than anything else.

“I wish to see Princess Y/n.” he told the guard.

“You’ll have to wait for after the ceremony, she didn’t want to see anyone.”

“I need to speak to her.” he urged the guard.

“Sir, please.” the other one alerted him.

In the middle, one of her personal stylists opened the door and Matty took the opportunity running inside. The guards followed him, stumbling till the three men stood in front of the future queen.

Quickly the guards rearranged their posture and the senior one started talking, “We’re deeply sorry to interrupt this way, Princess Y/n. Your brother-in-law…” he continued, making her heart sank. “We warned him you didn’t want to see anyone.“

“It’s fine. Leave us alone.”

“But Princess- “

“Leave us alone! It’s an order!” she half shouted. The guards obeyed and until the door made a noise letting Y/n and Matty know they were in fact alone, they just stared into each other’s eyes.

“What do you need, Sir Matthew?”

“Please, don’t do it!” he said directly.

“What are you talking about?”

“Please, don’t marry George!” he walked closer, but Y/n moved backwards.

“I don’t understand.”

“I know you do.” Thomas grabbed her hands carefully.

She warned him, “Matty- “

“Y/n, please.” he begged. “I know you, as well as me, felt it…” he leaned forward and touched her forehead with his.

“Please don’t do this now.” she closed her eyes, feeling pain and happiness having him so close to her. “You have Victoria, and I have Harrison now…You’ll be happy.”

“Every time I tried to convince myself of that I instantly think that I’ll be miserable for the rest of my life without you.”

“You have me forever.” she stated low. “You have my heart, although you know this is better for everyone.”

“Think of me. Think of you. Us. What we want…not what is best for- “

“I have to- “

“Screw that!” he startled her with his high tone, leaning slight backwards.

“This it’s not easy for me either…” she looked down. Y/n was as hurt as he felt. Matty took her chin, making her look up.

“My angel…” he whispered, making Y/n sob quietly. “Shh, shh, don’t.” he cleaned her tears. “I love you.”

“Matty” she looked up to his eyes. She saw the love for her.

“I love you, I’ll never stop but… I do understand that’s why I’ll leave my selfish heart here when I leave. I’ll marry your sister, watch you marry another man…and no matter what I’ll be close to you because I can’t live without you in my life, my eternal love. We’ll be close…because you’re my moon, and I’m the stars. I’ll be by your side watching you become the best Queen this twisted world would ever have the privilege to have. I’ll be close, supporting you…but I’ll love you from afar…I’ll love you till my last breath, Y/n.” Matty leaned forward, catching her lips on a slow kiss.

The kiss was bittersweet. They shared in that simple but meaningful act all the love and care, as well the pain and frustration they felt.

“Please go.” she said, closing her eyes while crying.

“Of course, my Queen.” Matty reluctantly walked backwards.

“I’m not- “

“You’re…for me.” he smiled at Y/n.

Y/n watched Matty walked around her room going directly to the double door. She had her heart in her hand at the same time she held the tears from falling.

“Matty!” she exclaimed, desperately. He didn’t turn around completely, he gave her a side look.

“Yes?”

“I- “she tried to say it.

After a couple of seconds in silence, Matthew asked. “Yes, my Queen?”

“I lo- Damn it!” she exclaimed, and he chuckled a little, turning around fully.

“I know, my love. I know.” he gifted her a sweet smile and then he left for good.

…………………………………………….

After the ceremony, the newly-wed couple step outside on the balcony, greeting the people that happily cheered for them. Some of them cried, some laughed, even though the entire kingdom was alive again in spirit.

Y/n turned around making her sight land on Matty.

No matter how much the people, her people, would be happy for her and her new husband she would never felt the same as them. The only reassurance was thinking Matthew would be there, by her side, forever. Their love would last until their last breath and beyond.

#royal!au #matty healy #matty healy fic #matty healy x reader #matty healy x y/n #matty healy x you #matty healy fanfic #matty the 1975 #george daniel #george daniel x you #george daniel x y/n

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