#george the 1975

[alovesreading]

Nice Kind Of Messy

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

Word Count: 16.7k 

Warnings: smut.

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

Masterlist

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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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“George, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But despite your words, he stops.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So fucking sweet. He needed more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m fucking you now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckles smugly, “I know you will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

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

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

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

[georgedanielfromthe1975]

"charli xcx and george daniel fucking for life!!!"

from charli xcx's instagram

#AHHHHHHHHHHHH #so happy for them #george daniel #the 1975 #george daniel the 1975 #george the 1975 #charli xcx #the 1975 band #the 1975 music

[nowujustlooklikeanyone]

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

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

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

[abiiors]

In Stages

For @alien-princess-v and @nowujustlooklikeanyone who requested similar George fics, so I thought I would combine them into one big piece. I hope you enjoy this :)

Also inspired by “I've been in love with her for ages / And I can't seem to get it right / I fell in love with her in stages / My whole life”

Five times he almost confessed + the one time he finally did

some angst but a happy ending, female reader, alcohol, weed etc.

wc: 6k

For as long as George can remember, he has been a coward. No really, every time he sees you hanging out with Matty and the rest of your friends, he wonders if this is it, if this is the right time. He has never felt so uncharacteristically shy around anybody before. But George feels absolutely tongue-tied when you’re in the room simply existing. 

The house party they’re throwing has taken a bit of a wild turn. Raucous laughter drowns out the sound of music in the room, a playlist that George agonised over for weeks that’s now just being treated as background music. 

‘God, you two are disgusting,’ you’re laughing at Matty and his girlfriend and he watches from a distance as his best friend blushes and slaps away your hand. 

The genuine happiness on all three of your faces makes his heart ache, makes him feel a little like an outsider. Especially since you’re primarily the cause of Matty’s happiness right now; what with you introducing him to the girl he’s now in love with. 

‘Come on, mate,’ Matty waves him over, ‘why are you sulking in the corner?’

He is sulking a bit, that’s true, but he still makes a face when Matty mentions it. 

‘What’s up with you?’ you ask and turn your body to him as soon as he sits down. He is wildly aware of the fact that your knees are touching; his covered in some old jeans, yours bare seeing as how the dress you wear ends around your thighs. And so he is very aware of the fact that he could be touching you if he slightly moved his hand. 

‘Hello?’ you wave your hand in front of his face. ‘Ground control to Major Daniel,’ you speak in a sing-song voice and he laughs a bit at the reference. 

‘Sorry,’ he feels a bit embarrassed for zoning out on you, ‘sorry, it’s been a long day.’

‘Something getting wasted can’t solve?’ you quirk an eyebrow and extend your glass to him. A red solo cup full of cheap beer. A party full of cliches. But he takes a sip of it gratefully and then cringes at the taste. 

‘This is disgusting!’

‘Don’t go all bougie on me now, Daniel. I’ve seen you drink much worse stuff.’ 

He laughs. Because he always laughs when you’re even remotely funny, he can’t help himself. Matty, seemingly bored of the conversation, pulls his girlfriend off his lap and whisks her away to the dance floor. George tries to ignore the pang of longing he feels. How is it so easy for his friend to simply just…ask?

Ask you to set him up with her. 

And then ask her to be his girlfriend. 

And ask her to dance with him; swaying to their own tune in spite of the fast-paced song.  

He looks away, clears his throat for some courage. ‘Let’s go up to the rooftop.’ 

‘Trying to get me all alone? Oooohhh,’ you waggle your eyebrows at him suggestively and he’s suddenly made aware of how tipsy you actually are. He simply rolls his eyes and tries to stop the words from bubbling up. 

Yes, he’s trying to get you all alone. Because he just wants to keep you for himself so he could go to bed with you next to him and wake up with you in his arms and he wouldn’t get irrationally jealous seeing you talking to other men because he would know you’re coming home to him at the end of the day. 

‘Yes, I’m trying to solicit you,’ he replies, hiding his true intentions under sarcasm, ‘now will you come with me?’

So you go, up and up the spiral staircase holding his hand and giggling all the way in anticipation. He suspects it has more to do with the drugs and the alcohol in your system than the fact that he’s funny. He has barely spoken a word tonight without overanalysing it at least ten times. 

‘Are you going to tell me the names of the stars and woo me?’ you sway from side to side, dance away from his grip when he comes any closer. He wonders if it’s a game to you, if you simply like the chase, the thrill of it. And he’s willing to walk to the ends of the earth if all you give him is one sign. 

‘I won’t need to give you astronomy lessons to woo you’ he laughs, tries to keep his tone casual. 

It’s all quiet up here. The sounds of the party downstairs are so muffled, as if you are under some blanket. A space only for the two of you. 

‘My, my George,’ you gasp, ‘are you flirting with me?’

Have been for the past six months, he thinks somewhat bitterly but settles on shaking his head in exasperation. He is, perhaps, slightly tipsier than he thought but he’s not exactly inebriated. So when you grab your hands in his, and try to twirl him around, he simply lets you. 

‘It’s lovely up here,’ you close your eyes for a brief moment and breathe in the fresh air. ‘It’s nice being with you.’

His head spins a bit at the words that have just come out of your mouth. At the way your hands are fisting in his shirt.

If this were a romance movie, he would see a shooting star right about now; crashing, hurtling towards the ground at full speed. He would wish upon it, wish for the girl he’s always wanted. Then you would look at him through your eyelashes, tilt your chin up, perhaps even get on your tiptoes to reach him better. But you wouldn’t have to. Because he would already be there, leaning in and closing the distance between you two. And you would maybe gasp softly and pull him closer still. Unwilling and incapable of pulling away from him. 

Instead, you stumble. 

And instead of the shooting star, it’s his hopes and wishes that come crashing down. 

He’s not drunk but you definitely are. 

‘Alright, then,’ he sighs in resignation. ‘Let’s just sit down before you hurt yourself.’

And right there on the rooftop, with your backs against the wall and your head on his shoulder, he thinks that maybe this is nice. Maybe he can settle for this intimacy for now; having your side pressed against his, softly humming along to the echos of the song downstairs. It’s so out of tune and bad but he still wishes he could bottle up this sound. Keep it only for himself. 

Slowly, the humming stops, replaced by sounds of deep, even breathing. All the courage it took him to bring you up to the rooftop so he could finally kiss you, all of it leaves him in a rush, leaves him weary. So he simply sticks to pressing a lingering kiss on your head. A sweet, chaste, friendly kiss. Just like he always has. 

---------------------------

George’s heart is pounding. And you’re not the reason this time. 

He can’t stop thinking and overthinking all the last-minute changes to the setlist, all the small gaps where he can mess up and derail the whole show. The rest of the guys seem fine. The rest of them are devouring a large pizza as if they haven’t eaten in days. And he can’t bring himself to even think about food. 

‘You look like you’re gonna throw up.’ Your voice jerks him out of yet another mini-spiral. 

How could he forget you were going to watch the show today? Their biggest show yet that Matty was so excited for that he made sure to invite you, personally, three times. 

Not that George doesn’t want you there, he actually really loves it when you cheer on him (and the rest of the band but he’s allowed to indulge in his daydreams a bit) but today it feels like just one more thing that might set him off. Just one more, really important person he could mess up in front of.

‘Everything alright?’ you ask again, hand on his shoulder and urging him to look at you which he simply cannot. He knows what you will see is someone on the brink of losing it. ‘George…talk to me.’

It’s the way you say his name that makes him swallow roughly. ‘’m sorry,’ he mumbles, ‘just a bit nervous.’ He tries his best to give you a reassuring smile but the most he can manage is a shaky and wobbly grimace. ‘We’ve never played a venue this big before. I don’t know why the rest of them aren’t shitting themselves right now.’ 

‘That’s not the case, love,’ you try to reassure but he’s not listening to anything right now. He hasn’t even registered the term of endearment. Instead, he feels himself grow more and more agitated with each passing second. His knee bounces in place, his fingers fidget with one of his bracelets and he tries to control the urge to just scream out loud. 

He’s still going on and on about the setlist change and how he’s not sure of his setup and how he’s going to mess up which is going to make Matty mess up which is going to turn the concert into a shitshow when you move to kneel down in front of him and grab his face in your hands. And that instantly stops him mid-spiral. 

‘Shut up for one second, will you?’ you ask sternly but your hold on his face is gentle. 

‘Make me?’ 

He regrets it as soon as it leaves his mouth. What the fuck was his plan with that one? It’s not like you’re going to kiss him senseless and make him forget about everything for just one moment. This isn’t a movie. 

And the way your eyes go wide and your breathing gets uneven is proof of that. 

‘Sorry,’ he mumbles quickly and stands up to put some distance between you, ‘sorry, don’t know what I was thinking. I didn’t mean it like that.’ He speaks in a rush, scared that he might have made things awkward. But you simply shake your head and make your way to him. 

The clock is ticking. They are supposed to be on stage in ten minutes. Adam cracks a joke that makes the rest of them laugh and George paces a bit more. It’s not like him to feel this nervous. Maybe he’s just having a bad trip, a bad day. 

The sound of the crowd does nothing to hype him up. Instead, it only serves as a reminder of what’s at stake. 

‘George shut up and listen to me,’ you take his face between your palms again. ‘You have done this dozens of time before. You made these songs, love. They are a part of you. You’re not going to mess up. Matty, Ross and Adam are not going to mess up. And these,’ you lightly tap on the IEMs hanging around his neck, ‘there are people to give you your cues.’ 

You’re right, he’s nodding along because he knows you’re right. 

‘Can I hug you?’ you ask tentatively, ‘do you think it would help?’

And maybe that’s just what he needs right now. A hug from his favourite person in the world. So he wraps his arms around you and buries his face in the crook of your neck. Your comforting scent washes over him, something he’s more aware of than his whole body. For a second he can simply let himself imagine that this is his life. That when you step back, he will tell you how lucky he’s to have you, that he loves you and you will say it back. 

Instead, he hears Adam calling for him to come over.

‘Thank you,’ he smiles, actually manages to do it this time. ‘Thanks, I feel a bit better.’ 

‘Don’t worry about it,’ you grin up at him. ‘You’re going to be amazing! And the ladies are going to go wild for you. Besides, I’ll be here cheering for you. That’s what friends are for.’

Friends. Yeah. He would have thought that time would dull the sting that word brings but that's clearly not the case. 

‘Good luck, okay?’ you whisper, get on your tiptoes and press a quick kiss to his cheek. Your lips are soft, warm. So close to his mouth that he simply stops functioning for a second. 

‘Come on, mate, now!’ Ross shouts. It really is showtime but how is he supposed to step away?

It’s only when you step back to go to the others and give them all a good-luck hug that he gathers himself. 

Just like you said, the show goes great. It’s actually flawless, garners rave reviews. The next day there’s a semi-viral photo of him with a lipstick smudge on his cheek. People online tease and speculate. And he simply wishes he could go back in time and finish what you started.

---------------------------

George giggles slightly at the look on your face. The boyish sound is so at odds with the rockstar persona he’s got going on at the moment. You, on the other hand, can’t quite believe your eyes. 

The world around you is bathed in golden light. There’s a blue blanket on the rooftop and not just that, there’s a whole picnic basket on the rooftop. There are bottles of pop and alcohol, and weed, of course, weed. Because where there’s George, there’s always some amount (usually large amounts) of weed. 

‘What is this?’ you ask incredulously; a tone of surprise and elation coats your voice and he feels a little pang in his chest. 

‘Surprise?’ he opens his arms wide like an enthusiastic talk-show host. ‘You didn’t think we wouldn’t find out about the promotion, did you?’

George beams as the realisation hits you. Just because he doesn’t work a conventional job doesn’t mean he’s completely oblivious to the hard work that goes into it. And he knows how much you have wanted this from the bottom of your heart. Although he would never admit to how he found out about it. He’s supposed to be a cool, aloof rockstar, he’s not supposed to be scrolling through the instagram page of a company to look at photos of you in your element. 

‘It’s not much,’ he admits sheepishly. 

But his breath gets knocked out of him when you launch yourself at him, tightly wrap your arms around his waist. ‘Shut up, it’s perfect!’ you laugh. ‘Thank you thank you thank you!’

He returns the hug and desperately tries not to let his face go beetroot red. 

The sun is just about to set. He checks the time, half an hour before everyone else is supposed to arrive. That’s the smallest bit of deceit he has let himself indulge in—telling everyone else the wrong time so he gets half an hour with you all alone. But he can’t bring himself to feel guilty about it. 

‘And the others are coming too?’

‘They are,’ he confirms, ‘in a bit. I just got impatient.’

‘Shame,’ you shrug, ‘this could have been a perfect date.’

‘What?’ he stops breathing, almost certain that he misheard you. A small voice in his brain starts screaming and his breathing gets shakier. 

‘Yeah,’ you smile, completely unaware of the lightning that’s racing in his veins, ‘someday, some girl is going to be so lucky to have you.’

And just like that, he comes hurtling down. 

George wonders if it would be absolutely psychotic of him to grab you by the shoulders and shake you violently. He has never been as speechless in his life as he is right now because how in the world is he so hopelessly in love with an utter idiot?

How are you the smartest and the stupidest person he knows?

‘Oh,’ you sound a bit hesitant, ‘have I said something I shouldn’t have?’

He simply shakes his head. He doesn’t trust his voice enough to speak right now and he doesn’t want to open his mouth and find out what comes out. 

‘Oh my god, there’s already someone, isn’t there?’ your eyes widen, you gasp as if you have connected the dots, solved the unsolvable cypher and George simply wonders if he should laugh or cry or throw himself off this fucking roof. 

Or pin you against the wall and kiss you till your lips are swollen. 

But that’s the exact moment his phone pings with a text. Saved and Damned by the bell. 

Matty and his girlfriend are almost here and his whole life is a fucking cosmic joke.

---------------------------

George has been mopey. There’s no other word for it. And he can tell that his friends are equal parts worried and fed up with him. 

Even now as he moodily sighs instead of doing actual work, he can feel Ross’s eyes on him. It’s not easy to hide shit from someone who’s essentially an extension of you; who knows your body language better than you do. So when Ross quietly offers him a cigarette and a chance to let it all out, he accepts gratefully. 

‘So all this for a girl then?’ his friend teases lightly once George is done unloading everything. 

It started out as a calm, collected discussion of his feelings. And then devolved into a rant about how he’s a coward for not being able to simply…confess. So the light teasing feels a bit like a jab. 

‘Yes,’ he replies curtly, ‘I’m pathetic. I know. Just say it.’

‘No, that’s not what…come on,’ Ross sighs. And it’s all well and good because George is not mad at him. Not really. 

He’s just annoyed, irritated, miffed, crabby, and yeah okay a little mad at himself. He feels like a pimply pre-teen who has no outlet for his angst apart from blasting out The Smiths in his bedroom. Which he might as well do at this point. 

‘And why haven’t you told her?’ 

It’s such a simple question. He almost wants to laugh at the obvious tone Ross asks it in. Why hasn’t he said anything yet…

Oh, maybe he’s terrified of messing things up?! What happens if you don't feel the same and then there are tensions between you and it would mess things up between Matty and his girlfriend because he met her through you. Also because George knows you two are like sisters. Or worse, he can’t say anything because what if you are already in love with someone else? And what if it’s one of his friends? What if—

‘Stop,’ Ross warns in a low voice. Maybe George’s panic is written very clearly on his face or maybe his friend just knows how to read him like a book. ‘What’s the worst that could happen if you told her, mate?’

And that’s a thought he does not want to entertain. Because there are a lot of possibilities; rational and irrational. So he simply hangs his head and takes another deep drag of the cigarette. 

They go back and forth; Ross tells him all the reasons why it’s a good idea and George comes up with a counterpoint for each one of them. This is a neverending debate, he knows it is because he’s had it with himself countless times before. In the end, however, he feels a little better. 

What if he simply started by asking you out for a coffee? Something that could easily be explained away as a friendly date. A coffee, a movie, a drink. Anything to spend time with you, to see if he has a shot. So George takes his keys out of his pocket and makes his way to his car. 

He’s almost pulling onto your street. His stomach is in knots, his mouth dry. He desperately wants to bounce his leg up and down but he’s driving so that’s out of the question. Your house stands out to him in the row of others and he scans the street to find some parking. A white car is parked in his usual spot in front of your house which makes him frown a bit but he doesn’t pay much attention to it; it’s not like he owns the spot. 

But then he sees you. In front of your door in a gorgeous black dress and a tall, handsome man next to you standing way too close than he should be. 

Too late George realises what’s happening. Too late he notices how you lean towards this man, how you smile up at him and place your hand on his bicep. The way your thumbs draw lazy circles on his arm that George thought was only reserved for him. Too late he realises what he’s going to see; the man bends down, you tilt your chin up and close the gap. 

For a second he’s sure he’s about the empty the contents of his stomach onto his lap. Fire burns through his veins; green and envious hellfire. So in a panicked daze, he floors the accelerator, pulls away and out of the street just as fast as he came in. 

He does not want to stay and find out if the other man is invited inside. 

---------------------------

George is in a foul mood. That, and he’s also terribly drunk; just one of two more pints shy of being stumbling, blackout drunk. 

It’s Adam’s birthday; a happy occasion. Everyone is a funny, cheerful drunk but he feels like he’s two seconds away from punching a hole in the nearest wall. Because you haven’t let go of that insipid man’s arm all evening. The same man that he saw outside your door all those weeks ago. 

Fucking Hayden and his pretentious drawl. He doesn’t understand what you see in that twat; someone as dazzling and gorgeous as you on the arm of one of the most insufferable people George has ever met. And the fact that he’s your date for the evening. That feels like a real kick in the nuts. 

If he could just take out his frustration by shutting himself in his studio and banging on his drums till his knuckles bled. But no, here he is. Stuck in a social situation. So when the chance comes to escape to the balcony for a quick smoke, he takes it. 

The night air does help a little to sober him up which is both good and bad. Good because he wants to be able to make clearheaded decisions. Bad because he simply wants to forget. 

‘You’ve been hiding,’ you announce as soon as you step onto the balcony. 

The sound of your voice startles him a little. And makes the vein in his forehead throb. 

‘Where’s your boytoy?’ he asks without turning around. It’s a bitter and lame statement but he can’t help himself, so he simply stares off into the distance and let his annoyance grow.

‘Don’t be like that… I only wanted to introduce my boyfriend to my friends.’

Boyfriend. He scoffs. That dimwit is nowhere near worthy of the title. 

‘And so you did,’ he speaks curtly, ‘he’s great, amazing, is that what you want me to say?’ Harold is—’

‘Hayden.’

‘Whatever.’

The silence stretches on. For a minute he’s sure you’ve left, that he’s alone on the balcony once again but then he hears your shaky breathing. A wave of fear passes through him; has he made you cry? Did he cross a line? He turns around, fully prepared to grovel and apologize and stops in his tracks. 

Your hands tremble at your sides, your lip is curled up and your eyes blaze in pure fury. He’s actually a bit scared of that look. He’s only seen it once before and he remembers what happened then, he never thought it would be directed at him. 

‘What the fuck is your problem, George? You haven’t even talked to him and you’re just going to form opinions? Based off of what, huh?!’ you seethe and step closer. 

‘Well, I heard both of you talking to Matty and Ross. You got along great, it was fantastic, happy?’ 

He hears the tone of his voice, he really does. It’s snippy and rude and bordering on cruel but the tether between his brain and his mouth seems to have snapped. Or washed away with the last glass of scotch. 

‘Are you even hearing yourself right now?’ you ask incredulously, eyes wide and throat bobbing. Because of course, his behaviour makes no sense. Because of course, you don’t actually know what his problem is.

He runs his hands through his hair and shakes his head. This is not what he should be doing right now, he should be pulling you close and whispering 101 reasons against your lips for why he’s better, why it’s him you should be with. Jealous, envious thoughts cloud his vision and his judgement. He’s no good to anyone right now. But his feet refuse to move. 

Even when you’re fuming at him, you are downright stunning. Clad in a pretty pink thing that brings out the flush in your cheeks. Right now it’s anger and alcohol but he hates to think that there are days when that clown is the reason why you blush and bite your lip. 

‘Go away,’ he states. He tries to make it sound as dismissive as possible, as rude as he can but it comes out weak and pathetic. 

‘You don’t tell me what to do,’ you huff, arms crossing in front of your chest. He doesn’t miss the way it deepens your cleavage and right in the middle of this fight, he wishes he could hitch up your dress and fuck you till the only thing you can remember is his name. ‘I’m serious.’

This has turned into a battle of wills. He was never prepared for it, and now he has no way out of it. So he takes a deep breath and picks the worst possible option. 

‘If you really care about my opinion then here you fucking go. I don’t like Hayden, I think he’s a pretentious little shit who’s only with you because he likes you as his arm candy. But you’re too blinded to see that right now.’ It scares him a little how calm he sounds but now that the words are out there, he can’t stop. ‘He looks at you like you’re a piece of meat that he can’t wait to sink his teeth into. He looks at you like you’re this…this thing.’ 

‘You’re being cruel, George’ your voice breaks on his name. He sees the damage his words have done but it’s better this way. 

The betrayal will sting, you would go home and cry to Hayden. He would comfort you, tell you that George is an asshole that you should stay away from. And you would stay away from him. George would nurse his broken heart, fuck around till he can’t feel his dick anymore and then, if he’s lucky, move on. 

‘Yeah, well,’ he shrugs casually, ‘you asked me what my problem was. My problem is that he’s too conceited to ever be a good fit for you and you’re too stupid to see it.’

The last syllable resonates between the two of you like a death knell. You take a shaky breath, blink back the tears. 

‘You’re a miserable asshole!’

George watches you turn around on your heels and walk away. He takes a shuddering breath and closes his eyes. The fight hasn’t fully sunk in yet. But it will. And when it does, when the eventual regret comes, he would desperately wish he could go back in time and confess his real feelings. 

---------------------------

George is fucking miserable. 

It’s been two months since he’s spoken to you, or heard from you, or even seen you. Two months since the night of Adam’s birthday. All he’s done in these two months is get out of bed, work till he’s exhausted and then drink till he passes out. 

His friends are worried about him. He can tell from the way they exchange long glances with each other every time he’s in the room. He wonders if they know what happened, if you told them but he hasn’t asked. In part because he’s worried about what they might tell him, that you and your boyfriend are all loved up, maybe even moved in together. Fuck, you could have eloped with him by now and George wouldn’t know. 

So he takes another swig of his beer and focuses on whatever show’s playing on the TV. 

It’s almost 11 at night and he’s not nearly as drunk as he’d like to be. He’s pretty sure that the bottle in his hand is the last one, that there’s no more left in the fridge but he does have a lot of weed. Maybe that’s what he will do after. 

So when the bell rings abruptly he lets out a deep, irritated groan. 

It’s probably just one of his friends, here to shoot the shit because none of them have any concept of boundaries with each other anyway. Maybe if he just ignores it, they will go away. 

The bell rings again followed by some pounding on the door. 

He huffs and gets off the sofa. The pounding doesn’t stop until he yanks the door open hard enough to rip it off its hinges; ready to yell at whoever’s bothering him at this hour. But one look and his heart stops beating inside his chest. 

For a minute he wonders if all the exhaustion and alcohol and sleep deprivation has culminated into hallucinations. And then his heart breaks at the sight in front of him. 

You look small and miserable; raw, red eyes with tear stains running down your cheeks. Your mascara is smudged, there’s a layer of black under your eyes and your lip wobbles from the effort of keeping everything at bay. He opens his mouth and closes it again when you make a run for him and bury your face straight in his chest. 

His heart breaks at the sound of your sobs. How often has he wished that you would just show up at his doorstep and all will be forgiven? But this is not how he wanted it, not when something’s clearly causing you pain. 

‘Oh, my darling,’ he shushes slowly, a bit bewildered but more worried. Whatever buzz the alcohol had left, drains out of his body in an instant. ‘Let’s get you inside, love. Come on.’ 

It takes him a few moments to calm you down enough so he can steer you into the living room and onto the sofa. Empty bottles of alcohol litter the floor, old cigarette butts in the ashtray that he never cleaned out but he’s not bothered by all that right now. Not when he has much bigger things to worry about. 

‘It’s alright, love, he speaks softly and rubs your back in slow, soothing circles, ‘it’s alright.’

The coil in his stomach tightens as panic threatens to take over. But he has to stay calm for you. Because you clearly need him right now and he’s not about to disappoint you again. 

You stay like that for five minutes, then ten. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t try to ask you questions before you’re ready to speak. If he has to hold and soothe you all night long then he’s happy to do so as long as he knows he can do something to help. 

‘You were right,’ you speak through tears, in a shaky voice that sounds hoarse. ‘You were so right and I was just too fucking stupid to see it.’

His words from months ago come back to haunt him. Not like he has stopped thinking about them. Sometimes, at night, they play in his head on a loop. 

‘No…no don’t say that,’ he holds you close and gently rocks back and forth, ‘never say that.’

He focuses on how you’re almost on his lap; face buried in his chest, hands fisted in his jumper. Your bodies fit together perfectly as if you’re two pieces of the same puzzle and if it weren’t for the fact that you are currently crying your eyes out, he would have died of pure fucking bliss. 

‘Hayden cheated on me,’ you whisper in a broken voice. 

He had suspected something like this but hearing it still fills him with white-hot fury. 

‘He cheated on me with my friend. And you know what the worst part is?’ you laugh bitterly, ‘the worst fucking part is that I’m more upset about losing a friend than losing a boyfriend.’

That makes him laugh despite himself. 

That’s my girl, he almost says but stops himself. Because you’re not his, are you? All his yearning won’t make it come true. 

‘Go on,’ you nudge him in the ribs, ‘say I told you so.’

He has to clear his throat before he speaks. ‘Is that what you think of me?’ 

For the first time that night, you finally look at him. ‘No, that’s not…well you were clearly right, so…’

‘I don’t care about being right,’ he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, ‘I care about you.’

And that’s as close he has ever come to confess his true feelings. And maybe that’s as close as he’ll ever get. 

You open your mouth and close it again, a bit too stunned to say anything. 

‘It’s his loss for letting go of someone like you.’ George speaks it like a fact; an irrefutable, universal fact. Because to him, it is. 

It takes him some courage to do it, but he slowly wipes away the mascara-stained tears off your face. All while he looks at you with a gentle, tender smile. His feelings don’t matter in this moment; if you need a friendly shoulder to cry on then that’s what he will be. A friend, a companion. 

You are quiet for a while, playing with a random loose thread of his jumper, deep in thought. You are still almost on his lap, still in his arms. And there’s warmth in his body like he has never felt before. 

‘What are you thinking?’ he asks, breaking the silence. 

‘Maybe I’m just hard to love, maybe that’s what it is.’

If the urge to deck Hayden wasn’t strong enough before, it’s almost uncontrollable now. The only thing that keeps him in place is the need to reassure you. To tell you how wrong you are. 

There’s a cacophony of thoughts in his head, several of them fighting to be said out loud all at once. He wants to curse out your asshole ex, he wants to tell you what a wonderful person you are, absolutely perfect. How you always make him smile wide, grin ear to ear and make his stomach flutter. How you deserve the whole world. 

Instead, what he says is, ‘you’re the easiest person to love. Trust me, I would know.’

And that’s how everything comes out. 

And that’s how you end up looking at him through wide, teary eyes with slightly parted lips. 

And that’s how he finally does what he has been dying to do for years.

Years later, when George will remember this night, your first kiss, he will always remember the salty taste of it, the feeling of your dry chapped lips on his, how you messily grabbed at each other, unable to get enough. Years later, he will still remember how despite the kiss not being picture-perfect, it was still the best thing he has ever experienced. Years later, he won’t remember what you were wearing that night, or what day it was or what time. He will only remember how his heart beat fast enough to almost leap out of his chest. 

But later isn’t here yet. 

And right now he only wants to lose himself in this moment, in catching up for all the months and years he has lost out of sheer cowardice.  

#george daniel #george daniel x you #george daniel x reader #george daniel fanfic #george daniel fluff #george daniel imagine #george daniel fic #george daniel fanfiction #george daniel x female reader #the 1975 #ross macdonald #matty healy #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 fic #george the 1975 #the 1975 fluff #george daniel angst #angst fic #fluff #5+1 times

[tillthelandslide]

My Boy - George Daniel Instagram Au

A/n: for my George girls ❤️ I've got you. Hope you enjoy this.

yourinstagram:

yourinstagram 👀👀

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fan1 excuse me ... Who is this⁉️⁉️⁉️

fan2 I KNOW THOSE TATTOOS... WHAT'S HAPPENING

-> fan1 who is ittttt am I stupid

-> fan2 George Daniel

bedforddanes75 what's that 👀👀 supposed to mean

-> yourinstagram just 👀👀

trumanblack excuse me? Don't steal my friends

-> thisislou he prefers me

-> trumanblack @bedforddanes ⁉️⁉️

-> bedforddanes75 sorry mate 🤷‍♀️

yourinstagram:

yourinstagram I don't know what you're doing or why but... You don't have the right looking THAT good doing it @bedforddanes

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yourbestfriend you're such a simp

-> yourinstagram DAMN FUCKING STRAIGHT

bedforddanes75 stop ☺️

-> yourinstagram nope

trumanblack what IS he doing?

-> yourinstagram who knows 🤷‍♀️

rass1975 he does look good

fan1 damn 🥵

bedforddanes75:

bedforddanes75 my girl ❤️

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75fan but... Who is she bc she's hot af

-> fan1 an icon

yourinstagram your girl 🖤

-> bedforddanes75 love you so much ❤️

-> yourinstagram love you more G 🫶

trumanblack cute

rass1975 couple of the year

75fan OMG SLAY

yourinstagram:

yourinstagram I miss my love so much @bedforddanes a fan just sent this to me (thank you, hope you don't mind me reposting it 👉👈) Basically becoming a fan account for my own boyfriend at this point 🙄

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bedforddanes75 miss you more ❤️, I love how much you love me and I love you more!!

-> yourinstagram impossible ❤️ you're super hot btw

-> bedforddanes75 you're the hot one

trumanblack please come back, he's becoming unbearable

-> yourinstagram wish I could 😔

rass1975 he's being a pain in the arse, please come back

-> yourinstagram tell him to call me please

bedforddanes75:

bedforddanes75 reunited with my love ❤️

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rass1975 what a beautiful couple

trumanblack lovely people

yourbestfriend give her back please

yourinstagram love you George ❤️

-> bedforddanes75 love you more

yourinstagram:

yourinstagram my boy ❤️ so proud of you everyday, love you so much

Liked by bedforddanes75, 1975adam, rass1975 and 128,781 others

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bedforddanes75 my girl ❤️ love you

rass1975 cute

1975adam cuties

fan2 we stan

75fan my parents

#queued post #george daniel fic #george daniel x reader #george daniel #george daniel instagram au #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 #the 1975 george Daniel #george the 1975

[imagine-that-1975]

George mf Daniel, and Charli mf XCX 🔥🔥🔥

#george daniel #charli xcx #the 1975 #george the 1975 #1975 george #1975 #George 1975 #power couple

[yosemitegirl]

"i have two sides"

#taylor swift #1989 album #folklore #reputayswift #the 1975 #matty healy #ross the 1975 #george the 1975 #2014 band tumblr #2k14 grunge #bring back 2014 #2014 grunge

[beliefandsayingsomething]

remember that one interview where the interviewer says george eye fucks the camera… well i certainly understand her now

#the 1975 #george daniel #george the 1975 #brit awards

[tallulahhoneyy]

Me today

#it’s my birthday #matty healy #the 1975 #matty healy the 1975 #matty the 1975 #george daniel #george daniel the 1975 #george the 1975 #adam hann #ross macdonald

[georgedanielfromthe1975]

#BYE THIS IS EVERYTHING TO ME #george daniel #the 1975 #george daniel the 1975 #george the 1975 #the 1975 band #matty healy #the 1975 music #charli xcx #film photo #film

[nowujustlooklikeanyone]

IM SORRY IF UR LIVING AND UR SEVENTEEN

#the1975 #kms #matty healy #truth #why am i crying #best intro of theirs imo #i love bfiafl #sfm #george the 1975 #bye

[abiiors]

George is black cat bf and golden retriever gf coded <3 (do what you will with that)

Sorry it took me so long to do this and also this is so sappy but I hope you like 💞

I’m already saying this but I’m gonna write a smutty part 2 for this 

Support

George is content sitting in the corner of the room tonight. 

He leans back on the leather sofa, feeling quite at home in his expensive and stylish suit and sips on some Scotch. People mill about around him; chatting, engaging in small talk (the horrors) but his eyes are focused on the person at the centre of it all. 

You flit around from one person to the other and then to the next. They’re all here for you after all—your adoring fans and critics alike, here to get their book signed and have a chance to meet their favourite author. Most of them are young people, girls just entering their twenties and boys who are the literary types. Some of them have tried to chat with George too. 

To his credit, he’s done a great job of blending in with the crowd, just another fan but he does get recognised every once in a while. He smiles and nods, says a polite hello but makes sure to tell them that he’s just there in support tonight. 

The small bookstore is decorated in the colour scheme of the book—A soft pink and red, hints of teal and gold but they just barely peek through. He’s read this book now, more times than perhaps even your editor has. He has been here for all the drafts, for all the frustrated tears and the whoops of joy. He has been there to drag you back to bed when the kitchen light is still on at 3 am and you’re hunched over your laptop, or neck-deep in research. He’s been there through your indecisiveness between two cover designs and your countless attempts at taking the perfect author photo and now here he sits tonight. 

Every time he looks at you, at the brilliant joy on your face, he feels the ball of pride in his chest grow bigger. 

Halfway through the conversation you’re having, your eyes wander over to him. He is, of course, already looking so he just smiles wider and raises his glass in cheers. The smile slips a little when he sees you looking apologetic. He’s about to indicate something when he sees you excuse yourself and run over to him. 

The gorgeous purple dress he’s helped you pick out sways and swishes perfectly every time you move. And now as you get closer, he’s once again in awe of how well you’ve carried yourself this evening. 

‘Sorry, sorry,’ you pant a little, ‘I’ve practically abandoned you all night, I’m so sorry.’

The apologetic smile is back on your face and he all but pulls you down on his lap right there. 

‘Baby, don’t apologise,’ he extends a hand for you to hold, ‘it’s your event!’

You grab a hold of it gratefully and sink into the sofa next to him. It’s been a fantastic evening but it’s also been tiring, to say the least. The drink in his hand looks delicious and he wastes no time handing you the glass once he sees you eyeing it. 

‘Go on,’ he signals, ‘you look like you need a breather.’

This is how it goes. He offers a drink, offers to listen to whatever you have to say; be it after a frustrating day of work or right in the middle of a bustling event. There are several tangents to your stories, there always are. Incoherent thoughts that need to be all brought together first before they can be streamlined. 

‘I just,’ you take a sip and let it rest in your mouth for a second, ‘I can’t believe it’s out into the world you know? I worked so hard on it.’

‘I know you did,’ he encourages. 

‘I don’t want to let go of her,’ you confess. ‘All the nights I spent doing research and all the revisions and new drafts. It feels like this book is a part of me and now that she’s finally out into the world, I’m gonna have to let her go.’

George rests a hand on your knee. He knows this feeling perfectly well; he knows what it’s like to feverishly work on something, to dedicate all your waking hours to one thing before it’s finally time to put it into the world. He knows the bittersweetness that comes with it. And he feels a new kinship when he sees it on your face tonight. 

‘It will always be a part of you,’ he says quietly, ‘even when you start something new, even when your next project consumes you.’

You consider his words, let them mull over as you take another sip. 

‘God, you’re so wise,’ you tease. 

That makes him laugh. It’s deep and rich, his first real laugh all evening that goes beyond polite smiles. ‘It’s all the weed,’ he whispers conspiratorially. 

‘You’re right, though. I—’

‘Sorry, excuse me?’ A sheepish-looking guy cuts in. ‘I was just wondering if you were free for a photo?’ He extends a hand in greeting, names the literary magazine he’s from and George watches the recognition dawn on your face. Along with the excitement. 

You’re already turning to him, about to say sorry but he interrupts quickly. ‘Go. Be a social butterfly.’ Then he leans forward and presses a soft kiss on your lips, ‘I’m so proud of you,’ he whispers, ‘and I’m right here.’

You smile gratefully and hand his glass back to him and just like that you’re off with the guy chatting animatedly about something or the other. The glass in his hands is almost empty now. He realises that you needed it far more than he thought. 

He traces a finger over the small lipstick smudge on the rim and smiles to himself. He doesn’t mind being left in the corner for one night. Actually, he’s perfectly content just watching you shine from the sidelines.

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