#george daniel fanfic
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dancing like she way out (george daniel x reader smut)
shag the dj shag the dj shag the dj, or whatever the smiths said. basically - a night out takes a turn for the better when you hook up with the hot dj. won't lie, there's use of the d word in here. and choking, because we've all seen that man's hands. enjoy <3
all your friends are wasted, and you hate this club.
no, really - three of them are currently spewing their guts up in the toilets after going too hard on the tequila rose, while the rest flail wildly on the dancefloor in between queuing at the bar to buy yet another round of overpriced jagerbombs. meanwhile, you're doing your best to dodge the extremely persistent man you first swerved about an hour ago, some palm angels-clad twat with shit hair and an inability to take no for an answer, and also doing your best not to spill your vodka cranberry all over yourself in the process.
in short, you're having a shitter of a night.
at least the dj's fit, though. really fit. and, to be fair, he’s spinning some decent stuff. the one saving grace of the night, you'd say.
you watch him from the edge of the dancefloor, empty cup in hand. he's quite focused, more so than some of the wankers you've been dragged to see in this club in the past, only looking up to signal to the bar staff that he needs a refill and to check the vibe of the room. he has pretty eyes, you notice, sharp and dark and clear; eyes that could definitely get you to commit a multitude of sins, quite frankly.
and now? they're looking right at you.
looking isn't a strong enough word, actually. they drag slowly down your body - locking with your own, then travel to your pouty, brown-lined lips, and shamelessly over the curves of your body onto your legs - leaving a trail of thrill-induced goosebumps across your skin in their wake. suddenly, they flick back up to your face, and one closes in a wink. you smirk, and the dj does too.
interesting.
one of your more sober friends nudges you, handing you another vodka. you accept it without breaking eye contact with the dj, wrapping your lips around the straw and smiling with it between your teeth. he raises his eyebrows, still smirking, and you wink; your friend notices, and leans round so you can see her. “are you eye-fucking the dj?”
“maybe,” you reluctantly tear your eyes from him to look at her. “in my defence, he started eye-fucking me first.”
she laughs, tugging you onto the floor and motioning for you to dance. “i think we should keep him looking at you, then.”
“alright,” you down your drink and set down the cup. “let's dance.”
and so, you do, pulling out all the stops. your hair flows behind you as you swing your hips, body twisting and turning and stretching as you lose yourself under the lights and amidst the beat, and you laugh excitedly with your friend as she twirls you. the dancefloor is so empty that you can spin to your heart's content, but that doesn't bother you at all - it means there's less for the object of your efforts to be distracted by, more chance that his attention is on you.
it seems to be completely on you, actually; every time you catch a glimpse of him, his eyes are on you again, and your friend attests to that in your ear as she pulls you in for a hug. “he hasn't stopped looking at you, for even a second. that man wants you, babe.”
you angle your body towards the deck so you can see him. the club lighting is simultaneously sheering out his black shirt and throwing both his stubbled face and tattooed arms into focus - fuck, his arms.
and he's still looking at you.
“i think you might be right,” you turn back to your friend so she can hear you, deliberately leaning forward and shaking your ass slightly in his direction. “and i want him too.”
she shoves you towards the deck. “go and get him, then.”
with a giggle, you set off, swinging your hips as you all but skip towards the extremely sexy man behind the music. unfortunately for you, some arsey man in too-tight chinos gets to the deck first; folding your arms, you stand behind him, miffed, and wait your turn to speak.
luckily, you only have to do that for a couple of seconds. the guy isn't particularly drunk, but he's annoying. “hey, bro,” he says to the dj, whose handsome face is set in an expression full of what can only be described as ennui. you assume he sees this kind of thing all the time. “can you play some, like, chainsmokers? that would be so sound of you.”
chainsmokers? christ.
clearly, your distaste is showing, because the dj's face slips into a tiny smirk as he looks at you out of the corner of his eye; it disappears, though, before he replies. “‘fraid not, mate…”
his fucking voice. dear god. who is this man, and where has he been all your life?
“...i don't take requests.”
you believe it. everything about the dj screams control, and with every passing second your want to submit to that control is growing. it's not want you have for him any more, but sheer fucking need.
the other guy shrugs and wanders off, and the attention is all on you again. leaning over the mixing board towards you, the dj smirks again. “you, however, can ask me for anything you like.”
fuck. keep it together, bitch.
“anything?” you smile, saccharine, carefully leaning on the side of the deck in such a way that it pushes your boobs up. “even cascada?”
he rolls his eyes. “and here i thought you had taste.”
“whatever made you think that?”
“you picked out that dress to wear tonight, yeah?”
christ. “yeah. you like it?”
he nods, taking a sip of his drink. “it's gorgeous on you. but i think most things would be.”
you blush, revelling in the compliment before shooting your shot. “present company included?”
“jesus,” he shakes his head, and for the briefest of moments you worry that you've lost him. but then he looks up, hunger in those fucking eyes of his, and smirks again. “is that what you want, angel? to go somewhere together and find out?”
the ease with which the pet name falls from his lips is staggering, so much so that you can merely nod. that's not good enough for him, though - “need you to talk to me, beautiful.”
“sorry, sorry,” you compose yourself (with great difficulty). “yes, that's what i want.”
“s'reciprocated,” he smiles, genuinely. “i’m george, by the way.”
you smile in response, and introduce yourself. george says your name, slowly, and you fear that your legs might give way. “pretty,” he replies. “i like how you feel on my tongue.”
the words practically shoot straight into the scrap of fabric you call panties, and your jaw drops. george giggles. “you're cute when you're flustered, angel.”
“shame. i don't tend to make a habit of that.”
“hmmm,” he clicks his tongue. “i'll need to work on that, then.”
you smile, radiant. “promise?”
“promise,” george smiles. he checks his watch, and you try not to drool at the way his arms flex. or his hands - god, look at his hands! “s'almost closing time. meet me back here in half an hour?”
“looking forward to it,” you blow him a kiss, preening at the way he blushes. “see you in a bit, gorgeous.”
he winks again. you turn and walk back to your friends, who have gathered along the edge of the dancefloor to watch your exchange with the dj. they huddle around you like a rugby scrum when you near them, a cacophony of slurred voices asking what and where and who and when and how; you gesture for them to follow you to the smoking area, where - to much excitement - you relay the details to them in the breaks between nicotine hits, and hug them all goodnight before you have to go back inside, them to the cloakroom and you to the dj.
your wingwoman friend is the last one you bid farewell to - she links arms with you to walk back into the sweaty club, doing the pre-prepared spiel you give each other when you pull. “have fun, but don't be stupid. if it's his place you end up at, then send me your location. i'll phone you in the morning, alright?”
“yeah,” you kiss her cheek. “thanks for all your help.”
“no problem. stay safe, have the best time,” she grins. “and i want details at the pub quiz on tuesday.”
“noted,” you hug her again as you reach the place to part ways. “love you. goodnight.”
“get it, bitch!” she shouts after you; you turn to salute her and giggle, and then she's gone. with a deep breath and a shake of your hair, you dart past the people starting to head towards the cloakroom, butterflies starting to emerge again as you get closer to george.
he smiles when he sees you, eyes raking over your body once again. “you know,” he says, as you reach the deck. “you really are beautiful.”
“i'm already leaving with you, george, you can drop the flattery,” you roll your eyes, then beam at him. “thank you, though.”
“just stating facts,” george turns some sort of dial, and the music fades to silence. as the club staff usher everyone from the room, he sighs happily. “been waiting to do that since you came up to me earlier.”
“really?”
“yeah,” he unplugs his laptop from the deck, sliding it into a backpack. “you're very distracting, you know, looking so good and dancing like that.”
“well, i try,” you hold out a hand. “ready to go?”
george nods, stepping down beside you - you gawk at the the height of him, towering over you. “fuck me, you're tall.”
he laughs, taking your hand in his. again, the size difference is insane, and you find yourself momentarily nervous to get into bed with him; that soon passes in favour of excitement, though. “don't worry, i'll even out the height thing by getting on my knees soon enough.”
the speed with which you tug him toward the exit at that is almost comical. george only giggles and lets you drag him to the door - he stops when you’re out in the cold air, though. “hold on, angel, i need a cig.”
you nod, standing on the step beside the door while he moves down a few to light his cigarette in peace. his hands, so big, are surprisingly nimble as he pulls a fag from the packet and flicks the lighter on; again, it does something to your core, and you lean against the brick wall to keep yourself steady.
after a few (erotic) drags of the cig, george holds it out to you. wordlessly, you accept, holding eye contact as you take a drag and exhale it in his direction. george's eyes flick to your lips, then back to your own - suddenly, he's kissing you, a hand in your hair and one on the small of your back, your arms looped around his neck. it's not a polite kiss, by any means; george kisses like he’s trying to devour you in the best possible way, stealing all the air from your lungs and inhibitions from your brain, tongue and teeth working against your mouth to get you to give in to him.
like you need any convincing.
a trail of spit connects you as he breaks the sloppy kiss, forehead resting against yours as you both breathe deeply. “fuck, angel,” george sighs, kissing you quickly again. “your place or mine?”
“we can be at my flat in five minutes if we walk quickly.”
“shit. lead the way.”
***
your front door hasn't even fully closed behind you before george is pressing you up against it, grabbing handfuls of your ass and lifting you so he can kiss your lips and neck while he grinds into you. every time his hips meet yours, you feel your eyes roll back into your head and the need for him inside you growing. his teeth meet the skin of your collarbone, and you swear you see stars. “george.”
his head shoots up immediately. “no marks?”
“no, leave as many as you want. it's just,” you whimper as he sucks a bruise into your skin. “i really want you to take me to bed. please?”
he groans at that, peeling you off the wall as he turns. “where…?”
“second door on the left.”
no sooner than the words have left your lips, george is kicking your bedroom door open and all but throwing you onto your bed. hands shaking, you do your best to undo your heels and throw them into a corner as george rids himself of backpack and shirt; you mewl at the sight of him, muscles hardened in the moonlight, and sit up on your knees to clumsily undo his belt.
he shakes his head, moving your hands from him. “you first, angel. arms up, come on, let's get that pathetic excuse for a dress off you.”
“i thought you liked this dress?” you frown, even as you oblige and let him peel the dress up your body.
“i do, but - oh, fuck,” george moans as your almost-bare body is revealed to him. “it was doing an awful job of stopping me thinking about you like this.”
his gaze on you is almost predatory, so much so that it makes you sink back onto your knees in submission, legs slightly open and chest forward. “do i live up to your daydreams, sir? no, wait,” you squint, assessing george to see if you can figure him out. “do i live up to your daydreams, daddy?”
you've hit the nail on the head; george’s eyes close as he swears and undoes his belt, kicking his trousers and shoes off before climbing onto the bed, onto you. he pulls you slowly onto his lap, and rocks you back and forth even more slowly. “does this answer your question, baby?” he murmurs, the gravel in his voice liquifying your insides and sending them straight into your underwear. the friction against his hardness is incredible, and all you can do is whine as you look into those obsidian eyes - again, that's not good enough for george, who delivers a sharp smack to your ass. “words, angel. tell daddy what you think.”
“i - ooh,” you whimper, as george changes angle to one that manages to catch your clit with every grind. “i think i live up to them, yes, daddy. think you wanna fuck me, and - shit - i want that too.”
“my smart girl,” he kisses you again, another head-melter that has you moaning into his mouth. “what else do you want, hmmm? want me to go down on you?”
as tempting as having that mouth between your legs sounds… that isn’t what you want right now. “wake me up like that tomorrow, please,” you savour the way george whines into your neck at the thought. “but right now, i just need you to fill me up, daddy.”
“well, i did say you could ask me for anything you liked,” he grins against you, kissing you quickly before softly laying you down. “fuck, look at you, angel, so fucking beautiful. where have they been keeping you from me all this time?”
your cheeks burn at the way he bites his lip, trailing his hands over your bare chest and all the way down to your panties. “i mean, seriously,” he hums. “i've never wanted to fuck someone more in my life.”
“so do it. please,” you open your legs, showing him the surely-visible wet patch on your silky underwear. “need you inside me, daddy.”
“alright, alright,” george huffs out a laugh, one of disbelief, as he trails a finger up your clothed slit. “jesus, you’re soaked already. can i take these off?”
“please.”
he smiles, dragging the material down your legs and his fingers through your wetness; evilly, he slides the same hand beneath his boxers to palm himself, groaning. when you protest, he laughs. “just making sure we're both ready, baby. speaking of… protection?”
you say nothing, and just reach across to grab your pill packet from the bedside table and wave it at him.
“noted,” he leans forward to kiss you, before moving back onto his knees to slide his boxers off. as the fabric drops, so does your jaw: you knew from the feeling of him under you that you weren't dealing with something compact, here, but george is fucking huge. like, slightly terror-inducing huge. that said, though, you begin to salivate at the sight of him - he notices this, and giggles. “like what you see?”
“yeah,” wide eyed, you look up at his face, your own breaking into an anticipated smile; tentatively, you reach out to touch his cock, both of you gasping in tandem when you wrap your hand (as best you can) around him, manicured thumb flicking over the pre-cum soaked tip. neither of you break eye contact as you pump him a few times, the sexual tension in the room too magnetic to do so, and when you speak it comes out in a whisper. “how do you want me?”
“how don’t i want you?” george smirks, tapping your wrist to make you let go of him. he shuffles forward, big hands meeting your chest and squeezing gently, and beams when you whine. “fucking love that sound. lie back for me, angel, wanna watch these tits while i make you feel good. that alright?”
“mhmm,” you do as asked, fanning your hair across the pillow and spreading your legs - george can't seem to decide where to look, eyes darting between your face and chest and glistening cunt, and it makes you feel incredible. “like this, daddy?”
he nods. “perfect,” his lips find yours again as he settles above you, resting his weight on one hand while the other slides between your thighs again. two long fingers tentatively dip into your cunt, and george groans while you gasp at the fullness. christ, if this is how you react to his fingers, then what on earth will it be like when he's actually fucking you? “jesus, baby, you're so fucking tight,” he hisses, eyes heavy as he looks down into yours. “want me to get you off with my hand first, before you take my cock? i mean, you're wet enough that you should be alright, but… i want you to feel good. comfortable. s'all about you, angel.”
shit. you have a sneaking suspicion that this man might genuinely be the death of you. but at least you'll die happy, yeah?
smiling, slightly dazed, you shake your head. “just want you to fuck me, daddy. need it, needed your cock all night.”
“you're sure?” george caresses your cheek.
“i'm sure,” you nod, humming happily as you watch him pump himself and drag his length through your wetness. “put it in, please.”
“sweet girl,” he kisses you, deep and slow, and pushes into you, the same. “oh my god.”
you're speechless, breathless, completely fucking brainless - all you can think about is the utterly delicious way george is stretching you out. nobody you've ever fucked before has really made you relate to the metaphor “rearranging your guts”, but with him it's crystal clear; he's so gentle and you're so turned on that it isn't painful, but he's definitely ruined any other man for you already and he's - you look down to check - not even fully inside you yet.
you giggle, slightly delirious, at that realisation. george smiles at you, groaning as he bottoms out and stills inside you. “feeling good?”
“so fucking good,” you lean up to kiss him, whining against his lips at the slight change in angle. fuck, he’s deep. “fuck me, please.”
he smirks. “magic word?”
“fuck me, please,” you kiss him again, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip then pulling back and whispering. “daddy.”
“good girl,” george pulls your legs around his waist, slowly sliding out of you and back in; you both moan in harmony as he does. “jesus, you feel incredible.”
you preen, beaming up at him - the smile is knocked from your face as he speeds up, though, in favour of your jaw dropping in pleasure. “yeah, that's it. fucking me so good, don't stop, please.”
“not stopping until i get you off, angel, don't worry,” he shifts slightly again, his next thrust hitting a spot inside you that you didn't think existed; when he does, you whimper, the contact sending another gush to your core and shockwaves throughout your body. “oh, you liked that, didn't you, sweet girl? shall i do it again? yeah, i think i will.”
he does, ripping a cry from your throat in the process. your legs quiver around his waist, the repeated hits to the area sparking them into movement, and you clutch desperately at his forearm beside your head. “daddy…”
“what is it, angel?” george leans down to kiss you, still fucking you relentlessly. “tell me what you want.”
your brain is growing hazier by the second, dopamine and serotonin and god knows what else overpowering all your motor functions, but you still manage to oblige. “want - fuck - want you to choke me.”
“fuck,” george’s eyes roll back slightly. “you're sure?”
you nod, stomach contracting in ecstasy. “need it, need you.”
“you're so fucking cute,” he grins, incongruous with the way his big hand wraps around your neck and presses, just enough for you to sigh happily and clench around him. “think you really might be an angel, by the way,” he pants out, never letting the rhythm of his hips drop. “you feel like heaven. look like it, too. and trust me, later on,” he kisses your neck, dragging his tongue up so he can whisper in your ear. “i am going to get on my knees and worship you for hours.”
okay, it's settled - he's perfect. you can never fuck anyone else ever again. “please.”
“‘please’ what, sweet girl? please do that?” he coos, sucking another mark just under your jaw. “or please make you cum?”
“cum,” you choke out from under his hand, legs practically thrashing from how good you feel. “please, daddy.”
“gonna be a good girl and help me, then?” george looks you straight in the eye, his almost completely shut in pleasure. “touch yourself for me. show me what you're gonna do every time you think about this, about me.”
christ alive. you obey (you're not sure that you'd be unable to resist that voice even if you wanted to), grabbing one of your tits in one hand and sliding the other between your bodies to your clit. as soon as you touch the bundle of nerves, the shockwaves pulsing through your body increase tenfold; if not for george above you, grounding you, you reckon you'd have shot off the mattress by now. through a quivering jaw, you talk to him. “m'so close, so fucking close.”
“me too, angel,” george’s eyelids flutter as he talks. “don't fight it - cum for me, my good girl, cum on my fucking cock.”
your body does as it’s told, a final surge of pleasure flowing through your body so strongly that you actually black out for a second; your fuse is relit by george groaning, gravel and guttural, in your ear, imminent climax signalled by his hips falling out of rhythm for the first time so far and his hand slackening on your neck. “oh, fuck, i'm there. can i… inside?”
“yeah,” you breathe out. “fill me up, daddy.”
“shit!”
with a moan of your name, george buries himself to the hilt inside you one final time, thrusting shallow and kissing you fiercely as he paints your insides white. once he’s done, he carefully lies down on top of you and rests his head in the crook of your neck, still inside you as you both catch your breath. despite finishing last, he’s the first to speak, moving to hover over you and kiss you again. “i'm so glad you decided to go out tonight.”
“me too,” you giggle. “same again next week?”
“absolutely. i'll be the one waiting by the speakers.”
#and yes i DID crop matthew out of the pic thank you for asking#mads muses#mads does writing#george daniel fanfiction#george daniel fanfic#george daniel fic#george daniel x reader#george x reader#george daniel smut
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one for the road // george daniel x reader
a/n: the idea belongs to my sweet friend ace @ughgoaway and i'm just bringing it to life but JFC GEORGE'S HANDS HAVE BEEN THE ONLY THING ON MY MIND SINCE BOILER ROOM
(side note but it took me sooooo long to think of a title until one for the road by am came up on shuffle)
cw: semi-public, fingering, edging, slightly dom/sub?? like it's kinda hinted but that's it, the writer’s hand kink is very obvious in this one
wc: 2.6k
l.a. traffic is the bane of your existence. everything crawls at a glacial pace, there are a million and one red lights and every once in a while someone tries to honk or zoom past as if that would magically clear the road for them. you try to play some music and even that keeps getting interrupted by the two calls george has gotten so far.
you’re frustrated beyond belief and so is he, judging by his tight grip on the steering wheel and his clenched jaw.
“george!” you whine. it’s childish and immature, and yet you can’t help it. it’s not even ten a.m. and everything is already hellish.
“i know, baby,” he speaks in a low voice, navigating yet more traffic. by some miracle, the car in front of you speeds, opening up space for you to cross the green light. george perks up, about to floor it when someone cuts in from behind, and gets stuck right in front of you. just in time for the light to turn red.
george slaps the steering wheel, letting out a few choice curse words, you groan into your hands, about to curse some more when his hand lands on your thigh.
it’s innocent enough—something he’s done countless times. it’s almost a permanent resting spot for his hands when you’re driving anyway, but the rough pads of his fingers scratch against your thigh. his rings glint in the sunlight, and you stare at his hands, completely forgetting about the frustration from just a minute ago.
the red light lasts far longer than it should, longer than it has any right to. but in the end you move again, and george’s hand goes back to the steering wheel. instantly, you miss the warmth of it, the friction of his fingers against the smooth skin of your thigh. you fidget with the hem of your short, short skirt, wishing your fingers felt the same. they don’t, not even close.
“fuckin’ hell,” george curses quietly, voice gravelly. his fingers drum on the leather, and a deep groan echoes around the car, making your mind go to all the places it really shouldn’t.
you sneak another look at him, at the way he dwarfs the car seat. his long legs are almost stretched out in front of him, spread wide. your mind wanders to all the times you've sat between them, pleasing him for hours, being a good girl and keeping him warm.
“you’ve gone quiet,” he speaks suddenly and places his hand back on your thigh. it almost makes you jump but you see right in front of you, at another red light and then at his hand on your thigh, at the veins littering it.
“‘m fine!” you squeak, voice weirdly high-pitched.
“you’re annoyed, aren’t you,” he tuts. “‘m so sorry, baby.” he does sound genuinely sorry, stroking your thigh with a gesture that he thinks is comforting.
for you, however, it only makes everything worse.
george draws small circle on your skin, round and round and absentminded as he waits for the car in front of you to start moving. he doesn’t know how strongly you’re trying not to rub your thighs together. he doesn’t know the kind of buzz filling your head, each time his hand inches higher or inward.
“n-no,” you choke out, trying to sound as normal as possible. you’re completely fine! you’re not about to soak through your underwear and onto the rich leather seats. “traffic’s normal.”
the last bit catches his attention but before he can say anything, the light turns green and george removes his hand once again. you scrunch your eyes shut, embarrassed at breathy your voice sounded just now. how girlish and needy.
but the sunlight makes his rings glint again and your mouth goes dry.
oh to feel them against your cunt… your ass…
oh to feel the cold metal on your lips while he shuts you up by shoving his fingers in your mouth.
“baby? you alright?” he tries to sneak a quick glance at you while also keeping an eye on the road. “shit, you’re not carsick, are you?”
sick. yes. that would be one word to describe you—sick in the head for wanting him to use his fingers right now, so publicly in the middle of a busy l.a. highway. right here where anyone can peep in.
he sneaks another glance at you, a bit longer this time with his brows furrowed and lips pressed in a straight line, and places his hand on your leg again. deliberate.
“bab—”
“george!” a whine slips out of you, and you can’t help but cross your legs this time, effectively trapping his hand between them. his fingers are so fucking close to your cunt, so…
“oh,” he breathes out and you feel his fingers move. it’s a swipe against the inside of your thigh, so fucking high up that he might as well be touching you now. no, scratch that. he is touching you now as his finger softly brushes over your clothed cunt. you hiss through your teeth, already sensitive.
“what have you been thinking about, hmm?” your eyes linger on his hand still, half of it disappearing under your skirt. his fingers move deftly, still swiping against your pussy, on the insides of your thigh. “you’re drenched…”
the breath whooshes out of your lungs once the red light hits and george slides the underwear aside.
“yeah?”
“please…” you all but beg, spreading your legs just a bit wider so his hand can fit better. slowly, leisurely, his fingers move through your folds, parting them and making you moan softly each time he brushes against your clit.
the red light even allows him to look at you, but you’re far too gone to care what he sees—your eyes half shut, mouth parted and slack, parting further when his thumb presses against your lit. the cold metal of the ring brushes against warm skin, sending a shiver down your back, and you but thrust up.
“can you–can you go faster?”
“my dirty girl,” he tsks, “you think i’m gonna get you off here? where anyone can see you?”
right. the people. not that you can be blamed for it, the outside world is the last thing on your mind.
“we aren’t in a rush, are we?” his voice takes a low, mocking quality. it’s so unfair that he should know you this well. that he should know how desperate you are for a release. he isn’t in a rush only because you are. a minute more of this teasing, and you might just lose your mind.
“i’ll be—”
a horn cuts you off and his eyes snap to the road, where the light, much to your frustration, has turned green once again. within moments george pulls his hand away, fingers just about coated with slick and places it back on the steering wheel.
“no, no—”
“patience, baby…” he uses the voice he always does when he wants you to obey. it’s the voice that rings around in your head. “i’ll get back to you if you sit patiently.”
and just like that his attention is back to the road again. you huff, aching all over and trying not to replace his hand with yours. it won’t end well for you, if you did that. your thighs feel sticky and the leather of the seat rubs against your skin all wrong. everything is all wrong. craning your neck a little you try to see where the next red light is—suddenly that’s all you crave. suddenly your pulse spikes when you see a light turn green.
but the traffic takes care of the rest, and george’s fingers are back at your cunt the moment the car comes to a standstill.
“you’ll be good for me, won’t you?” he asks sweetly, pressing his thumb against your clit just hard enough that you lurch off your seat, squeezing your legs shut again. this is where his hand belongs, this is where it should stay.
“i’ll be good, i’ll be so… so g-good.” the words get harder the more he touches and teases, drawing a lazy eight around your clit and dipping his fingers in and out, never deep enough though. he always pulls them out just before, keeps you right on your toes. in turn, your fingers curl, long nails digging into the leather until it leaves half-moon shaped marks behind.
if this keeps going, you might just tear through them…
“just a bit m-more… please, george,” you try begging again, not that it worked for you the first time but george relents just a little and pushes his fingers deeper. desperately you clench around him, whimpering and whining and pushing your hips up to take more of him. a second later, he wrenches his hand away, leaving you cold and empty.
tears of frustration brim on your lash line. you were so close, so close to feeling good, feeling floaty. the seat is soaked with your arousal now, and your fingers dig into the seat tight enough to leave your knuckles while. your heart hammers in your throat, head dizzy and swimming with thoughts of only his hands—his hands around your throat, choking the breath out of you. his hands on your ass, squeezing and kneading the skin, hands gripping your hips, your thighs tightly. leaving bruises.
“shh, baby… you’re doing so well,” his gravelly voice interrupts the train of thoughts and you realise you’ve been squirming and moaning, trying to find at least a little friction from the seat but it’s utterly useless. “you’ll wait till the next red light, won’t you? my good girl.”
“your good girl,” you nod fervently, eager to prove how much you deserve his fingers, how much you deserve an orgasm. george looks at you quickly, smiling in a way that makes his face look sharp and smug and goes back to driving. if it weren’t for the bulge in his jeans, you would have been convinced that this doesn’t affect him at all.
you almost close your eyes, swallowing harshly to get rid of the tears clogging your throat. you almost even manage to calm yourself down just a smidge, when the car stops again. this time, you barely get a moment’s notice before fingers thrust inside you, deep. all the way in, hitting the sweet spot. your back arches all the way off the seat and you cry out his name. you gulp in large breaths, trying not to pass out at the sudden onslaught of pleasure.
it’s like he’s turned the dial up from zero to one hundred, pumping his fingers in and out of you, thumb pressed against your clit. his body is twisted to look at you, lips hovering so close to the shell of your ear. once or twice he even nips the soft skin, earning himself yet another cry.
“yes, yes, that’s it… that’s…”
“yeah? that’s it? am i doing good, baby?”
he is, he knows he is. you feel like you’re on cloud nine, completely forgetting about the other cars outside along with the heat and traffic and every other thing that frustrated you not even an hour ago. the only frustration you know is the frustration of not getting to cum.
“words, sweet girl,” he taunts, “am i doing good?”
“so good… so good…”
george tsks. “but what if i’m not done with you yet, hmm?”
you can almost hear the pout in his voice, the undercurrent of smugness, and this time you see it coming before he pulls away.
“no no no nooo, george!” it’s the most frustrated you’ve ever been, shaking and crying, edged over and over again, and at his mercy. every time he pulls away it’s like your body’s doused with ice cold water, each time more tears fall down your cheeks. your mascara must be a mess by now, lipstick smudged by how much you’ve bit your lips.
“you’re mean,” you pout at him and george laughs. he actually laughs!
“do you want me to stop th—”
“no!” you cry out, scared that he’d really stop. scared that you’d have to sit here in a limbo, aching so desperately between your legs and not being able to do anything about it. but at the next red light, george takes mercy on you.
his fingers hover right over your clit, flicking it swiftly before they’re inside you again. the metal of his rings stings against your skin, digging into the sensitive skin. if anything, the mix of pain and pleasure is all the more heedy, dizzying. your head falls back, back still arched off the seat until your hips are moving of their own accord, rutting and grinding against his hand, riding his fingers. you try to match his pace.
it’s too much, too much, too much.
“pretty baby,” he coos, “look so good riding my fingers, look so good when you’re desperate for me like this.”
desperate is exactly what you are. you finally place your hand over his, pushing his thick fingers deepers. to your surprise, george even lets you. the rough calluses provide just the right amount of friction. his name is the only thing you can chant over and over again, moaning to the rhythm of his fingers.
“please, please, wanna cum. please george…”
you know the light's about to turn green, you don’t have much time. you know if he denies you again, you might just lose whatever hold you have on your sanity. george places a kiss on your jaw, lips warm against your skin, his stubble almost scratchy. then his mouth hovers right above your ear.
“since you asked so sweetly…”
your entire body tenses at his words, pussy clenching around his fingers so hard until your can practically feel the rings inside you. pleasure swims through your whole body and your vision turns white. the next thing you feel is something wet and sticky sliding under your ass, coating his hands and george continues to finger you.
your legs shake and tremble with the force of the orgasm, stars flare in front of your closed eyelids and you grip onto his hand, keeping it buried deep between your legs, riding it until the dizzying waves of pleasure subside. grinding on it until you can finally slow down and open your eyes again.
two seconds later, the light turns green again and he has no choice but to pull away. his fingers leave a trail of your release on the steering wheel.
“can i clean you up?” you ask sweetly, batting your eyelashes at him even though he’s trying to focus on the road. doesn’t matter though, his hands look just as delicious as before and you can’t help but stick his fingers in your mouth, suck on them, swirling your tongue around the digits until all you can taste is your release. the salty taste of it sits on your tongue and you pushing his fingers in deeping, almost gagging around them, till your lips touch the cold rings.
“fuck,” george curses under his breath when you let go of them and swerves the car, taking the exit he’s just seen.
“what are you doing?”
“going to find a hotel for us, sweet girl.” he mumbles, shifting in the seat, trying to adjust his very obvious bulge. “haven’t gotten enough of you just yet.”
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#no i'm not writing a pt 2 sorry. they fuck. you can imagine 🤭#the 1975#george daniel#george daniel x reader#george daniel x you#george daniel smut#minors do not interact#the 1975 fanfic#george daniel fanfic
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Nice Kind Of Messy
Summary: Your friends set you up on a blind date, one that you aren't really looking forward to at all but when you find George Daniel there waiting outside the restaurant, there is no doubt it'll be a date to remember.
Word Count: 16.7k
Warnings: smut.
A/N: So I wrote this as part of my Alex series but I figured I should turn it into a one shot so my George girlies could read it without having to commit to a long Alex Turner fic lol It took me a while to get it ready on one shot form but I hope you enjoy now that it's here hehehe xx
Masterlist
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You wake up that morning quite nervous. Your excitement makes you shiver in anticipation but the feeling brushes the line of anxiety and it’s rather overwhelming.
You’ve not been really looking to date lately, there hasn’t been any type of enthusiasm when hinted about putting yourself out there again since you got cheated on by your ex boyfriend. You couldn’t be arsed about it—the whole process of actively trying to look for a person that you felt was right and suited what you at least felt was the bare minimum was exhausting just to think about.
Going out with your friends was almost always a failed mission. They tried to get you out on the pull with them but you ended up straying back to the table and waving them goodbye when they came back with someone hanging from their arm, winking at them as if to wish them a good night.
They had only been lucky to send you off with someone a handful of times, but despite their best efforts to push you to pursue those who you had spent a night with, you had left them as that: a one night stand.
So they had used a new method this time, which entailed the fact that they had apparently been scheming about behind your back for a few weeks. You had only found out when you were having a wine night with them over at your flat, your jaw dropping and brows furrowing when they let you know they had made a reservation at a certain restaurant in Covent Garden so that you could meet up with someone they swore was the perfect match for you.
“It’s a blind date, we can’t tell you,” said one of your friends with a wicked grin on her face, sipping on her wine as you took the time to glare at your other two friends sitting on your settee.
They only offered you gallic shrugs and giggles, bubbly and high pitched which unfortunately managed to tug at the corners of your lips until they formed a smile.
A happy, “You’re excited then?” made you realize what you were doing, so you took a gulp of your wine and shook your head in disagreement as you swallowed.
“No, I’m just confused.” You really were, it was worse you didn’t have a clue who it could be because there wasn’t really anyone you think had shown interest towards you that you all knew. “Am I allowed to back out?”
You hoped you could, even if a meal at a restaurant you had been dying to go to for ages paid by one of them was on the cards here, but you were truly wary about throwing yourself into a situation where you actually had to put yourself in the dating mindset.
As you cursed your stupid cheating scum of an ex for ruining the prospect of dating for you, your friends shook their heads and said, “No.” in unison.
And they unfortunately went on to explain how your date knew about it already and had cleared their schedule for it to happen, and since you were an awful people pleaser, you sighed in defeat and agreed to go.
So there you are, slowly making your way to your kitchen to make yourself breakfast, despite the nerves making your stomach flip constantly and making you nauseous. Slowly you eat, slowly you wash your dishes and put them away.
You do everything slowly that day, taking a long shower and lounging in bed, still in your robe and letting your hair air dry. The date wasn’t until four so you still had time, and you figured if you went about it at a steady pace, then by the time you were fully ready you would have to leave and there wouldn’t really be a long space of time for you to bail out at the last minute.
By the time it hits noon, you’re doing your hair. Straightening it and curling the ends leisurely, humming along the music you’re playing on your speakers which is interrupted by a call.
“Good afternoon Miss Y/L/N, are you ready for today?” One of your friends greets you with a chipper tone in her voice, you could practically see the beaming smile on her face just from her voice.
Biting on your bottom lip, you let the phone rest on your lap as you continue with the next section of hair and shyly admit, “I’m actually nervous…”
The way she coos at you makes you roll your eyes but there’s a wave of consolation that comes over you when she says, “Good but also don’t be. He’s an absolute dream.”
The tiny piece of information actually makes you more curious about who he is, so you try your chances again as you ask, “Are you finally gonna tell me who it is?”
You had been trying all week to get anything out of your friends but they had been surprisingly good at keeping this one secret under a lock. And this time wouldn’t be different since you only get a vague, “All you have to know is that he’s fit and I know you’ll get on with him perfectly well.”
At least the reassurance that you and him would get on well eases your nerves a little. Not as much as you would like though, but that’s because you know yourself and when you first meet anyone, you get shy and a bit awkward, so you’re praying that you'll be able to get a bit of courage not to make a fool out of yourself.
Thankfully your friend stays on the phone with you as you finish doing your hair and you actually facetime her when you’re doing your makeup. She keeps making you laugh throughout it all and somehow makes you forget about how tense you had been for a bit.
Her boyfriend, Matty, comes back to her flat from a meeting right as you’re showing your friend the dress you’re wearing for the date and, to her dismay, he almost slips and tells you who it is that you’re seeing in merely an hour from now.
“Matthew!” She exclaims loudly before the name can fall from his lips and he quickly throws his hand over his mouth with wide eyes.
His honest, “I’m so sorry.” sounds muffled behind his hand and it only gets an eye roll from your friend which makes you laugh.
But you are gutted that your only chance to find out is gone that way. You whine as you complain, “Why do you react so quickly?”
Your friend takes her boyfriend’s close mishap as a sign to let you go though, completely ignoring your complaint to remind you, “You’re gonna have to get faster Miss, it’s quarter past three and it’s a twenty five minute walk over there.”
“Shit, right.” You curse under your breath, realizing you need to get dressed already and leave as soon as you can so you aren't late.
“You look fucking stunning, babe.” She states with confidence, reassuring you since you seem to start growing panicky, “I’m gonna leave you now so you can change but you have the best time Y/N/N, alright?”
You purse your lips at the camera and clutch your chest, “Thanks hun, love you.”
She grins sweetly at you and reciprocates, “Love you too. And let me know how it goes, alright?”
“Will do, but I don’t promise anything too interesting.” You make sure to make that point clear, you don’t have much expectations for the date just so you don’t end up feeling defeated for it not meeting whatever you could imagine it to be if you allowed yourself to.
But your friend is in heavy doubt of it not being interesting considering she knows who you are meeting with. So she shrugs as she smirks, “Yeah, well… We shall see about that.”
It’s the way that she looks like she’s trying not to laugh that has you narrowing your eyes at her, “What?”
Question that isn’t answered because she plays dumb and simply says, “Okay byeee! Love you!” loudly, blowing you a kiss before hanging up the phone.
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You walk the best you can in your high heeled boots which were not a great pick when mixed with how nervous you are and how far you had to walk. You had debated getting a taxi when you were locking up your flat but decided against it when you realized that if you did, you’d get there quicker and you wanted to stall as much as you could.
You aren’t even late yet, ten minutes left for the clocks to strike four in the afternoon and you are merely five minutes away. The whole walk, you had been practicing in your head whatever you could say to the guy you were meeting with, just to prevent embarrassing yourself. If anything went wrong though, you had brought your camera with you and a few rolls were stuffed in your pocket so that you could at least take the opportunity to take pictures.
In your head, you had gone from any topics you could come up with about yourself, deciding against being the one to mention your tragic love life and picking a few questions that could be interesting to ask your date.
But all the inquiries and words you had been rehearsing die in your throat when you round the corner at the end of the restaurant’s street and you see the tall dirty blonde smoking a cigarette, leaning on a lamppost right by the entrance of the establishment.
You think of making a run back to your building, hesitating which way would be easiest to go and how it would work with your long dress but his eyes fall on you before you can make up your mind and when he smiles sweetly at you, cigarette perched between his lips, you know it’s too late.
On your face a shy smile breaks and you give him a little wave before approaching him, faking confidence as you get closer until he’s only a few feet away so you say, “Oh hi, I wasn’t expecting you.”
Your face is burning up and you know he can see your flustered demeanor because he smirks down at you, and cheekily asks, “Were you hoping for someone else?”
Looking up at him through your lashes, you smile harder at his playfulness and in a rush of bravery you choose to play along, “Do you really want to know the answer?”
He takes a drag of his cigarette and lets the smoke out steadily as he shakes his head, “I’m just hoping you remember my name.”
And how could you forget, “Of course I remember you, George.”
George hums, taking one last drag of his smoke as he takes in your appearance and he’s grinning mischievously when seeing the dark satin and lace of your dress contrasting on your skin, your leather jacket making you look even more stunning and coincidentally matching the one he’s wearing.
“Glad you haven’t, Y/N.” The drummer replies with a wink, dropping the bud on the ground and stepping on it before taking something out of the pocket of his dark jeans, “Y/F/N sent this for you.”
An involuntary “Oh.” falls from your lips, entirely intrigued by what it can be that your friend had wanted to tell you that couldn’t be said on the phone because George hands you a folded piece of paper that only says Y/N/N x on the front.
You carefully open it, trying your best to avoid George seeing it—which is a bit of an issue since he’s so tall he can easily read if he looks down—and you instantly blush harder when you read Get the nice kind of messy ;) x
A flashback of the moment at Glastonbury when you had been gawking at George and you had let slip how fit you found him comes to the forefront of your mind and you can’t help yourself getting a little flustered at the mere thought of it.
“He’s fit as fuck.” Your eyes are unable to move from his figure, the way his muscles contract and define with every hit of the drums and the facial expressions he makes as he plays.
Your friend snorts in laughter and leans in to ask further, “Oh, so you fancy George then?”
You stutter as you try to come up with a response, “I mean… Look at him!” You’re entirely entranced by it all and it doesn’t help that he’s covered in a thin coat of sweat already, only three songs into their set, so his white top is slowly becoming translucent and sticking to his body.
It’s like your brain is shutting down and all that it can register is the look of the drummer because it takes you a few long seconds to realize your friend has teasingly said, “I’ll make sure to relay that message.”
“Oh, no, don’t.” The panic of that happening is the one thing that helps you snap out of your trance.
You watch as your friend’s face contorts in confusion and she fights your answer, “Why?! You need to get back out there and who better than George?”
But you shake your head, “No, that’d be so messy!” You can’t think of anything worse than trying to get with your friend’s boyfriend’s best friend—you cringe just imagining how that going wrong would cause a horrendous change in the group’s dynamic.
All of your worries come to a halt and you choke on your own spit when your friend smirks as her eyes fall on George, “That’d be messy, alright. The nice kind of messy.”
In an attempt to try and play it cool, you fold the note and shove it in one of the pockets of your leather jacket, clearing your throat, adjusting the strap of your camera on your shoulder and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear like it’s all fine and normal.
But George can see the way you’re pursing your lips and how you hid the note so hastily so your behavior completely betrays your attempts to be secretive about it. “What did you say?” He kept his promise that he wouldn’t open the note when Matty gave it to him earlier that day, even though he’s been really tempted too, especially when he realized Matty knew what it said because he was giggling when his girlfriend handed it to him.
You don’t give him an answer though, only a little cough that acts as a coverup of you avoiding his gaze and a subtle shrug, “Just a little joke.”
“Can you share?” He tries further, his hand coming to nudge you softly in the arm.
Not even that helps your answer change. You shake your head and say a shy, “Not really.”
“I see how it is.” George narrows his eyes at you and adds, “S’alright, I’ll remember that.” which is a promise that has you biting your tongue.
“Shall we go inside?” The drummer says then, watching you struggling to come up with a response to his previous statement.
The new question is much easier to reply to, a soft “Yes.” falling from your lips, breathlessly.
And he takes your breath even more when he lets you walk ahead, only to rest his hand on your lower back delicately and casually comment, “You look beautiful by the way. Really like that we’re matching with the leather jackets.”
The opportunity to not acknowledge the compliment is perfect because you feel like you’re going to explode under George’s attention. You giggle and nod, “What a great coincidence huh?”
His answer being, “Hot coincidence.” accompanied by a wink doesn’t make it easy for you though and you find out then that being on a date with George Daniel means blushing every five minutes even if the chat is about mundane topics.
You talk about your hometowns and the differences between your upbringings, how different it was that you’d stayed in the same city for your entire life while he lived moving around for a good part of his childhood until his family settled in Manchester. You tell each other how you had ended up doing what you were doing currently and you end up cooing constantly when George tells you how the guys became friends and how the band had come together. You exchange stories about your jobs, finally having the opportunity to ask all that came to your mind about producing music which you had always found fascinating ever since you’d gotten closer to the band. George being fascinated about your knowledge on films and everything to do with photography and cinematography, which really comes with your job as a photographer and videographer.
Then he asks about your hand tattoo—the ‘Pure Desire’ written on the back of your hand is rather enticing—smirking when he rubs his thumb over it and asks if you have any more which ends up in you both sharing the amount of ink you have on your bodies which George beat you to by an incredible amount. You end up taking your jackets off and showing each other each piece you have on your skin.
Eventually, the chat comes back to the band and you ask him whereabouts The 1975 has toured so far. Your jaw drops the more his list continues and you genuinely have a hard time wrapping your head around them being relatively new to the mainstream scene when they are already going to all those places.
“I don’t even remember the last time I went on holiday, fucking hell.” You chuckle out in awe at the information he’s just given you.
And George turns your innocent amusement into a mess of heated cheeks, pressed lips and eye rolls when he suggests how that could be easily fixed, “We just have to take you on tour with us next time, don’t we?”
“Think it’ll be crowded enough now that Matty is taking Y/F/N with him.” Your eyebrows are raised to accentuate how serious you are trying to be about it, it’s so hard to conceal how flustered you are at his insinuation.
But he makes it difficult for you to play it cool when he shrugs, “We can share a bunk then.”
“You’re such a flirt. Bet you say that to all the girls.” It almost sounds like you’re scolding him and he likes seeing the reactions he can get out of you, but there’s one thing that has been constant in the back of his mind and he decides to bring it up.
Taking his glass up to his lips, he takes a sip and gulps softly to start saying, “Surprised me when Y/F/N called me and asked if I wanted to go on a date with you.”
“God, that’s embarrassing.” You wince at the information, hating the way it looks for your friends to be asking people around if they want to go out with you. It makes you want to crawl out of your skin and die in a ditch.
George smirks playfully, “Going on a date with me?”
You laugh in response to that, shaking your head before clearing up, “Y/F/N asking if you wanted to go out with me. You know you could’ve said no.”
He frowns at you, like you’ve just said the most outrageous thing and he wholeheartedly asks, “But why would I?”
“Oh George, stop it.” You warn him, pursing your lips and narrowing your eyes at him.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” George reaches his hand out to touch yours and you almost shiver under it.
You let your fork down beside your plate and fan yourself with your hand as you admit, “You’re making me blush.”
But that’s not something that will keep him quiet, because he confesses, “Yeah and I quite enjoy doing it.”
The rest of the date is spent between good food, good wine, laughter, a picture you take of George when he asks about your camera, and chatter that has been really entertaining and entirely not awkward like you’d been expecting. Getting to know George in a deeper way is like a breath of fresh air and that’s why, when you leave the restaurant and the drummer offers to walk you back home, you don’t even hesitate to accept.
He takes a few detours on the way, taking you around places where he had hilarious and very wholesome stories of his childhood and teenage years when he would come around to London with the lads and other friends just to mess about. You’re so grateful for the anecdotes because you’re making sure to capture each place in its unique beauty and you know now that behind each shot you’d have the memory of what George had shared with you.
George watches you closely every time you take a picture, taking in every little thing you do before and after you press the shutter. You’re so adorable to him, the way your face lights up when you press the shutter and look at him excitedly when you roll the film.
You guide the both of you back to the way to your flat and as you walk, you’re smoking cigarettes and chatting. It’s so easy to carry a conversation with George, he exudes such an energy that just makes you feel free talking about whatever comes to your mind without having to think for a split second about what you should say or shouldn’t.
And just as easy comes laughter, because not only is his laugh hilariously contagious, he is funny himself and he has you struggling to catch your breath multiple times at his quips and comments.
There is something about this evening that you just feel the need to remember as best as you can so he catches you sneakily trying to take candids of him, every time he’s called you out on it and you shamelessly lie about the frame being focused on just what was behind him—every time something mundane and boring—but by the fifth time, instead of calling you out and have you grumpily change the focus of your lenses, he allows you to take a picture of him and even smiles for you; he doesn’t miss how your eyes twinkle after you’ve pressed the shutter.
The way you smile to yourself and proudly state, “I’m really gonna like that one.” makes George’s chest swell and in a lack of any more self control, he stops dead in his tracks and turns to you, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you into him, your chest hitting his chest eliciting a gasp to fall from your lips.
“Oh hi.” You giggle at the sudden action, your hands subconsciously resting on his chest after that, but any other words die in your throat when he dips his head and traps your lips with his.
You hum into the kiss, which is a dizzying combination between sweet and determined. His left arm stays wrapped around your waist, pulling your flush into his chest but the other one comes up to cup your jaw and he keeps you at the perfect angle for him to kiss you just how he wants.
Your arms slowly move up until they are wrapped around the back of his neck and you let your fingers tangle in his hair. It’s soft and long on the top of his head which you really like. His tongue brushes against your bottom lip, his fingers clutching your tighter and you let your mouth open so you can taste each other.
You completely forget where you are until someone walks past you and whistles at the two of you, startling you out of the kiss. You really enjoyed that kiss, and it shows in the way you look up at George with burning cheeks and something written on your face.
“I liked that.” George cheekily states, getting ahold of your hand and resuming your walk.
You hum, trying not to giggle when he intertwines your fingers and a feeling you can easily recognize starts bubbling inside you. “Yeah, I liked that too.”
You felt like a teenager. Blushing to yourself while you walked hand in hand with the person you had a crush on, and it’s so ridiculous but so relieving at the same time to feel this kind of pathetic elation instead of despair and heartache for once.
Your conversation resumed from whichever point you last remember it being left at but after that kiss it only gets more and more flirty, and you like where it is going but soon enough you reach your building and you have to slowly come to a stop with a pout.
“This is me.” You mumble, squeezing his hand in yours but he doesn’t let go.
He hums as if hesitant of believing what you’ve just said and instead he suggests, “Don’t you wanna take another walk around the block?”
“George, my feet hurt.” They had been hurting for a while but you hadn’t said anything just to not ruin things, and because you were enjoying his company so much that you were willing to endure the pain for a while longer.
The drummer comes to a quick solution, “I’ll carry you.”
Which makes you chuckle, “Sure you would.” You genuinely don’t want the date to end so in a bit of a rushed decision, you bargain, “Don’t you… Do you wanna come upstairs?”
He gets a kick of excitement inside him but he wants to play it cool, so he jokes, “What, are you gonna take my picture?”
You hold back a snort of laughter, and shrug as if it was fine by you that he only wanted that. “If that’s what you want.” There’s a little voice in your head that tells you not to but there is another one that purely encourages you to have fun.
“Yeah, that works.” George casually says, like he isn’t praying that he gets lucky to even get another kiss out of you.
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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.
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It’s bright outside when you wake up with the horrendous need to go to the bathroom, one that you’d been sleepily ignoring for a while but that had become too unbearable to endure anymore.
George has his hand around your waist and his leg thrown over yours, effectively keeping you trapped in his hold in bed, so you try to very slowly peel yourself away from him to escape to the toilet.
You’re careful so that you don’t wake him up just yet, but when you manage to get your legs untangled from his, he stirs and grumbles, “Where are you trying to go?” throwing his leg over yours again, his arm wrapping tighter around your waist making you chuckle.
“Bathroom.” You mumble as you try to get away again but he’s stubbornly holding you even tighter to him.
You feel him shake his head as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, a soft “No.” falling in your ears that makes you sigh.
“George.” You say softly to not disrupt the silence in the room, but he doesn’t reply so you try again a little louder this time, “George.” Once again, no response, so you end up whining, “Babyyyy.”
To the nickname he does listen, but his response is just a muttered, “Mhm?”
You turn around in his arms with a bit of struggle, cupping his face and pecking his lips a handful of times so he takes it as enough bribery to listen to you, “Please let me go. I’ll just be a minute.”
George steals one last long peck from you before smiling loopily and nodding, “Okay.”
He lazily retracts his limbs to let you get up freely from the bed, and though he’s fighting his sleep, he manages to peel his eyes open for long enough to watch your naked figure walk away from the bed and into your ensuite.
Keeping track of time is impossible to him when his eyes close again after you leave his line of sight, and he only opens his eyes again when he hears you giggle softly at the sight of him in your bed as you walk back to bed.
“You took longer than a minute.” He points out with his eyes still closed.
You snort and half heartedly apologize, “Sorry, I’m sore.”
His hand comes up to rub at his eyes, and when he does so, he sees the state in which you’ve come back so he frowns and tells you to, “Stop right there.” He sounds so serious, an amused smirk shows on your face because you have no idea what he’s about to say. An accusing finger waves in the air in your direction and he calls you out, “Why are you wearing a robe?”
“Shut up.” You say instantly when hearing that’s what is making him frown, your eyes rolling playfully at him.
“Get that off now.” He instructs but you take another step towards the bed with no intention of taking it off and he grumbles, “Y/N/N…” with a more stern tone that makes you too flustered for this time of day.
“You’re annoying.” You complain with a roll of your eyes, still listening to him and slowly undoing the knot that kept your robe closed, making it a little show as you open it up and let it fall off your body and pool at your feet on the floor.
Of course, George smirks at the sight and he has no shame in looking you up and down with hunger now shining on his sleepy eyes, his cock twitches just by seeing you naked in front of him again. Fuck, you’re stunning.
“Come here gorgeous.” The drummer invites you back into his arms and you don't have to be told twice for you to go back to bed and be the little spoon for him. You’d had such good sleep being completely enveloped in him, heavy limbs acting like a weighted blanket on you and it was utter bliss.
But after seeing you naked again, skin littered with love bites he had left all over your, hair messy and tits perky and bouncing as you walked, George feels the need to show you a bit more of the appreciation he had shown you the day before.
His hand brushes your hair to the side so he can have access to the skin on the back of your neck. Goosebumps breaking on the skin there when he starts pressing open mouthed kisses on it, fingers ghostly running down your back and stopping right on your lower back that had your back arching into him. Your ass grazed his cock every time, making it twitch and start to harden.
In search of friction, he pushes his hips forward and you reciprocate by pressing your ass against him. He keeps his actions going and sets a pace that the two of you keep up, mewling out loud when his hardening cock comes in contact with your cunt, “Hmm, George.”
“Yes, baby?” His lips brush against your skin, a shiver running down your spine and making you shudder, “You’re so fucking beautiful, please let me make you feel good.”
“Yeah…” You nod quickly, it’s a no-brainer. Your breath gets caught in your throat when he pushes his hips forwards again at the same time as you do and the tip of his cock presses on your clit.
“Yes?” He moans in your ear, hand coming around your front to play with your tits, “Can I make you cum again, sweetheart?”
You eagerly nod, swallowing a moan as he pinches your nipple and when he cup your whole tit with one hand, kneading it harshly, your “Please.” came out in the form of a whine.
“Good girl. M’gonna make you feel so good baby, I promise.” His hand continues playing with your tits as you keep grinding on each other. When his cock is hard enough, you feel it come up to rest heavily between his lower stomach and your lower back, and it’s then that he lets his fingers trail down until they hover over your mound and he breathlessly asks, “D’you trust me?”
“Yeah, George…” You’re basically pleading with him to continue, hand coming to clutch his and guide his fingers down to your soaked cunt and when he feels just how wet you are, he groans and pulls away.
“Wait.” George instructs you, leaving you alone on the bed to get a condom. You hear the wrapper rip and him moaning as he puts the condom on, stroking himself up and down a few times before he tugs the sheets off you and turns you from your side to your front so you’re face down and he can hover over you from behind.
His knees are on either side of your hips, forearms pressed on the mattress next to your shoulders and he kisses and sucks all over your back as he praises you for how gorgeous you are over and over.
He keeps bruising you up until you push your ass up and beg him to do something, the ache in your cunt too unbearable.
So George lets go of the patch of skin he’s bruising and does as you ask for, spreading your legs open as he kneels in between them and rubs his tip up and down your slit.
“Don’t tease, please.” You cry into the mattress, your cunt fluttering around nothing and it’s painful knowing just how good he felt inside you but he isn’t allowing you to feel it yet.
But then he just let himself slowly slip inside you and his jaw falls at your tightness in that angle, “Oh Y/N/N… Fuck me.” He feels like he can barely fit in, but you’re dripping with slick so it makes it a bit easier for him to slowly bottom out.
“George–” You choke out, head turning to the side to catch a glimpse of him. Your fingers clawing at the sheets beside your head for dear life.
“I know. You’re so tight.” He whimpers in pleasure, barely able to move an inch out of you because you’re so snug it feels like you’re pushing him out.
“Move baby, please.” You beg again and he starts going then, a slow pace at first that grows in speed rather quickly and has your cursing out loud, “Fuckkkkk!”
He gasps into your ear with every thrust, and it’s soon that the sound of your skin slapping drowns the room along with your moans. “Gonna miss this tight little cunt so much.” He says into your neck, sucking a bruise on the back of it before asking, “Gonna miss me too?”
“Ye– Yes! Oh shit baby!” You gasp when he hooks his left arm under your leg, pulling it upwards slowly and allowing you to stretch a bit more so you feel him even deeper, “Gonna miss you so much!”
He chuckles smugly, “I know you will.”
“Oh fuck!” You curse as he hits your g-spot perfectly from that angle, his hips hitting your ass and reminding you of how sore the skin there is from the spanking he gave you the night before. “Yes, yes! Don’t stop, please!”
“If you could only see yourself right now!” He curses under his breath when he looks down to see himself disappear into your cunt, over and over. If he keeps looking at how he keeps sliding in and out of you so easily, he will burst right then so he looks back up to your face and praises you once more, “Taking me so well, baby. You’re such a good girl.”
“Harder, please.” You ask in a whine, and he stills for just a second to get a better standing on his knees before giving it to you like you were begging to, making you instantly get even louder when he hits that sweet spot with more intensity, “Oh my– Fuck! Right there, yes!”
“Just like that, yeah?” His smirk grows on his face, feeling how it keeps getting easier to slide inside you which means you’re fucking drenched and dripping all over him, your walls fluttering around him already making him see stars.
“Yes! Yes!” You chant like a broken record, the coil in your lower stomach tightening by the second and threatening to snap at any moment, “I’m so close!”
His left arm lifts your leg even higher and then leaves it there to be able to bring his fingers down to rub at your clit and send you over the edge, “C’mon baby, cum for me sweetheart!” He encourages you as he rubs fast circles on your throbbing clit, which earns him choked out moans that turn into a throat ripping moan of, “F-fuckkkk! George!”
George feels you squeeze him so tightly as you cum, making it so much harder for him to continue thrusting in and out without losing the rhythm he’s set, he can’t hold it any longer, his hips stuttering as he cums and stilling as he spills his seed in the condom, “Ah shit! Y/N!”
His thrusts become sloppy and messy as he tries to ride out your highs while you spasm around him, whimpering as the aftershocks of your orgasm have your legs trembling under him and your white knuckle grip on the sheets falters.
Letting his weight fall over you almost entirely, George sighs in complete bliss and he kisses the back of your head and your cheek multiple times to say, “Did so good for me, sweetheart.” He drops a kiss on your lips and praises you once more, “My good pretty girl.”
The way he speaks to you makes your stomach flutter, and he feels it when you clench around him. “You like that huh?” He teases with a smirk, his nose brushing up your neck until he comes up to your ear and bites your earlobe to which you mewl in response.
He pulls out, hearing you whine when you feel upsettingly empty again but he rubs circles on your hips soothingly and asks, “Shall we go take a shower? Do you want me to help you up?”
You barely manage to reply with a quiet, “Mhm…” when a loud ringing snaps the two of you out of your wonderful post orgasm bubble.
You don’t really recognize the ringing so you figure it’s George’s phone. Yet, the drummer doesn’t make an attempt to go and get it, as he flops beside you in bed for a second before pushing himself off the bed and sheds himself off the condom you just used.
He gets up to discard it in the bathroom and just as he crosses the threshold of the ensuite, he hears his phone start ringing again. He fully ignores it again, taking his time in the bathroom until he hears you call out for him to pick up the unrelenting calls.
A grunt leaves his lips when he comes back to the room and picks up the phone only to read his sister’s name on the screen so he answers with a meek, “Y’alright?” to let her know he isn’t in the mood for the constant ringing.
You hear pure silence surrounding you for a good half minute before George sighs out an annoyed, “Fucks sake.” Opening your eyes to see him, you move onto your side to watch him as he speaks. “Right now? Really?” He asks, entirely unamused. “Yeah, really busy actually.” He says sternly, looking at you naked in front of him with wide eyes. That makes you purse your lips not to laugh but what gets the giggles out of you is when he sighs loudly and mutters, “I hate you.” to whoever it is on the phone.
It’s barely another half minute that he listens to whoever is on the other side, before he ends the call with an impatient, “Yeah, yeah. Sure. See ya’.”
“What’s wrong?” You ask curiously, your fingers playing with the ends of your hair.
George rolls his eyes at the situation, “My sister needs me for something. She says it’s urgent but I doubt it.” He shrugs then, ignoring the importance of whatever it was his sister needed him for, he had only been half listening really. “I can stay though, it wouldn’t be the first time I ignore her.”
That has you snorting in laughter, “Go, you idiot.”
“But–” He tries to argue as he comes to hover over you, head dipping to steal a kiss out of you which you break after a few seconds by pushing his shoulders softly so you can reassure him it’s fine. After all, you had really enjoyed yourself so you’re genuinely considering another date with him.
“It’s okay. I had the best time with you, and that’s all I wanted.” Your hands come to the back of his head, fingers digging into the hair at the nape of his neck and scratching his scalp softly.
George clicks his tongue and he pouts to joke, “Knew you only wanted me for my body.”
You cackle at his antics and tell him to “Shut up.” only to do it yourself by pulling him into you so you can share one last kiss. It’s sweet but it isn’t soft, your lips moving together with intent as if to prove you need to do it again because it’s just too good.
But you have to stop it before it can turn into something more. You pull on his hair so your lips separate with a smack and, with the sweetest smile and looking at him with doe eyes, you say, “Thank you, George.”
“I had the best time Y/N/N.” He replies wholeheartedly then, agreeing with your previous point.
“Me too.” You nod softly to reiterate, your hands coming back down to cup his jaw, thumbs rubbing circles on his skin.
One last short kiss is all you get in that bed before you both stand up and get dressed. Well, George does, in the same getup as the day before, while you put your robe back on and tie it around yourself slowly as he finishes getting his shoes on.
“I’ll see you soon for a second date, yeah?” He says when you walk him to the door, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
“You definitely will.” You assure, knowing you’d be texting him very soon about a second date if he doesn’t text you first about it.
He winks right as he opens the door, stealing one last peck from your lips before walking away. Leaving you with a stupid smile on your face that only gets bigger when you close the door behind you and go back to your room, seeing the mess you had left the bed looking like.
Yes, you were definitely going on a second date with him.
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A/N: What did you think? Hope you lot enjoyed it! Thank you for reading, I'm so excited to see your reactions! xx
Taglist: @imagine-that-100 @kennedy-brooke @drinkurkombucha @vinylandcoffeecollection @butyou-callmewhenyourebored
#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
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Disconnected (Matty Healy)
warning: not smut but it might as well be. mentions of doing the dirty but. it doesn’t happen. you know. also george gets roasted sorry georgenation
note: meow
⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆
he collapses on top of you, sweat coating his bare skin. a long exhale releases from his lungs as he sinks into your body. you keep your hands on his back, rubbing up and down comfortingly, soothing the angry red marks left by your nails just a few minutes ago.
he hums in contentment and places featherlight kisses to the right side of your neck. you giggle and push him off you.
“what? done with me already?” you don’t say anything, expecting him to just fall asleep like he usually does at the end of your ‘after he gets back from the studio quickie.’ it’s not always like this, your sex life with him, this is just one, predictable aspect of it.
it’s almost like you both know how good he fucks you when you ask for it, that it makes up for all the simple, mundane sex you have most of the time.
suddenly, he turns to his side, propping his head up on his hand, and his silent stare is harrowing. “yes?” you ask him, wishing you could read his mind. sometimes you swear he can read yours.
“can i ask you something?” he doesn’t meet your eyes when he says this, and you can only assume the worst.
1. would you still love me if i was gay?
2. will you help me bury the body?
3. when i die of terminal cancer, will you promise not to remarry?
you’ve just been staring at him staring at the crisp white bedsheets and when he looks into your eyes, you are reminded that he can’t actually read your mind, and your attempts at telepathic communication are feeble.
“sure, baby.”
“ok. i’m gonna ask you, and no matter what your answer is, i promise i won’t get mad. you hear me?”
“yes?”
he reaches out to grab your arm, “i mean it, i won’t get mad, i’m just genuinely curious, i’m not fishing for a compliment or anything, i just really want to know.”
what on earth is he on about?
“just ask your question.”
he sighs again. “who’s the best man you’ve ever hooked up with?”
you close your eyes in a mix of both confusion and a bit of disappointment. “like… character-wise or sex-wise?”
“sex-wise.”
you nod, about to say something.
he doesn’t let you.
“i bet it was george, wasn’t it. i’m sure of it. god, when you two hooked up, he was in his prime. i mean, not that he isn’t fit now, i’m sure he still fucks, but back then… i bet he knew what he was doing. how was it with him? be honest, i won’t be upset.”
you just smile silently as he can never shut his big mouth. “that’s pretty gay.”
he chuckles at your response, still egging you on for a real response. “come on, he’s a drummer, so obviously, he’s got rhythm, and he’s a very big boy, so you know he’s got the size.”
you reach forward to brush a stray curl behind his ear, enjoying his beautiful tranquility for as long as you can, because you know he will inevitably get riled up the more this conversation continues.
“i’m starting to think you just want to hear about what it’d be like to fuck your friends,” you brush your fingers through his hair continuously, and he closes his eyes, nearly forgetting about your conversation.
“you’re changing the subject darling,” he leans into your touch.
“so you’re saying you don’t want to know? what it would be like?”
he opens his eyes, “of course i want to know! we’re all straight men in committed relationships to beautiful women, i may never get the experience.”
you rest your hand on the edge of his face, rubbing his temple in circles with your thumb. “you know, if you ever wanted to fuck any of them, i think i’d let you. it’s only fair, since me and george, you know.”
“it wouldn’t be the same, though, because when you and him fucked, we weren’t together yet, i hadn’t told you i liked you. it would mean too much if i shagged my mates now since you and i are you know… whatever.”
you gasp in amusement, “did you really just refer to our relationship as whatever?”
he pouts, but you know he’s laughing on the inside. “i’m sorry.”
“it’s fine, i guess.”
“wait, you never answered my question!”
“alright. i’ll get into it. you ready?” he nods, looking more prepared than you are for what’s to come. “george was… i mean… it was good. to somebody else, maybe it was great. but to me? i don’t know, we just didn’t mix well together.”
“what d’you mean, baby?”
“like, okay, you look at a guy like that, you assume a certain thing from him while fucking. like you go into doing it with a level of expectations, somewhat high, and he just didn’t meet them.”
“can you be a little more vague? i think i’m almost understanding you, god forbid that happen.”
“fine, fine. truth is, he was too gentle. like you said, he’s a drummer, he’s super muscular, and he’s huge, you expect him to give a rough fucking or even something adjacent to it, and like, i mean, i’m a big girl, i can take it, but every 5 minutes was like ‘are you okay?’ ‘is this too much’ ‘do you need me to stop?’ you’d have thought he was a virgin the way he was so awkward and nervous and gentle. it was weird.”
“that is weird. i never thought that’s how it would be with him.”
“did i ruin the magic for you? now that you know fucking your best friend would be underwhelming?”
“it wasn’t magic, more morbid curiosity,” he speaks.
“morbid? it’s not like we’re talking about fucking a dead body, it’s just george.”
“agree to disagree, my love.” he gets up, butt ass naked, and pulls on some clean boxers from his closet. then, he stops in his tracks, and turns around to face you again. “wait, answer the question, for real this time. i won’t be mad.”
“it’s you.” you speak it plain, simple, and true. you wonder why he even debated the question.
“really?”
“really. it’s always been you.”
“aw, that’s so sweet. just don’t go getting feelings for me, i’m a lone wolf, don’t do relationships,” he warns as he walks out of his room, heading to his kitchen.
the irony hits you as heavy as the new engagement ring on your finger he presented to you a week ago. you laugh to yourself, feeling smitten.
he returns in a moment with a glass of water and sets it down on the nightstand next to where you lay. “drink, darling”
you obey, giving him a look over the rim of the cold glass as it rests against your kiss-swollen lips. you swallow, “you’re being pretty sweet to me, for a ‘lone wolf.’”
he smiles, enjoying the near endless banter between the two of you. “every alpha needs their omega.”
“ew, that’s gross, get out of here, you freak!” you gently nudge him off of the side of the bed where he sits.
he gives you his classic dumb smile as he leaves the room with the now empty glass of water, likely returning it to the dishwasher.
when he gets back, you can’t help but continue his dumb conversation. “i think i’m the alpha in this relationship, anyway. you’re my bitch.”
he nods in agreement, “i’m your bitch.”
⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆
taglist: @indierockgirrl @itssimpleanditgoeslikethis @milkluvr8 @americanangel
#the 1975#matty healy x reader#ratty matty#matty healy x you#matty healy fanfiction#matty healy 1975#matty healy imagine#matty healy fanfic#matty healy fic#matty healy#matty healy smut#george daniel fanfic#george daniel smut#george daniel the 1975#george daniel fic#george daniel x reader#george daniel#george daniel fanfiction#the 1975 fluff#the 1975 fanfic#the 1975 fic#matty the 1975#1975 band#the 1975 fanfiction#the 1975 smut#Spotify
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sorry , george daniel
note, okay, this is the first time i've written for george. also, i love charli and george. just want to preface by saying that idk why?
pair, george daniel x reader
summary, george and y/n got into an argument before the show, so as a way of apologizing to him, she surprises him at the show.
warnings, argument
word count, 1317 words
(gif not mine)
The fight you had gotten into wasn't the worst fight you and George had ever had, but you had to fly home because they were still on tour and you had to get home and go back to your life. if you flew home and didn't get to apologize, it would eat you alive for months.
So, you quickly booked a later flight and went to the closest craft store to enact your plan. The only other person who was in on it was Ross because you didn't trust Matty not to tell George. You would've told Adam too but you couldn't find him when you were telling Ross.
Ross got you a ticket and helped you with an easy sign that George would see from the stage (he helped test out the viewability by standing in George's spot on the stage while you stood in various spots around the pit till you found the perfect spot.)
So, a few hours later, you were sitting in the pit with all the fans. A few of them recognized you and you talked with them, making jokes and waiting for the show to start.
"Nice tattoo." You smiled, pointing to the box tattooed on the girl's skin.
"Oh, thanks." She smiled sheepishly, "Do you have one too?" She asked.
"Small one." You turned your arm, showing her the small box on your wrist, "Got it with George, and I swear to God, I almost passed out." You both laughed.
"So, I have to admit, I would've thought you'd be in a box or something." She hesitantly starts.
"Yeah," You sighed, "We sort of got into a fight, so I'm here to make a grand romantic gesture apology."
She smiled, "That's so sweet." Before adding, "And I promise I'm not one of those fans who, like, spread information on the internet."
You chuckled, "Thank you, I appreciate that."
You started to get more and more nervous as time ticked down and it got closer to when the boys were gonna come out. Your phone dinged in your pocket, so you quickly pulled it out and checked to see the message.
g <3
hey
hope you landed safe
i'm sorry
love you ❤️
You read and re-read the message a few times because your heart was melting and you felt like crying a little. You wanted to respond, but you didn't want to ruin the surprise, so you waited.
The boys came out, and while you normally waited backstage, or watched them perform from a special seat, or from the sidelines, nothing ever compared to the energy in the pit.
You waited a couple songs until Matty did his speech just because you didn't want to ruin a song. Once he sounded like the end of his speech, you raised up your sign, which easily grabbed everyone's attention.
"Holy..." Matty stopped speaking, about to go on off on whoever interrupted him, but when he saw who it was, he laughed. He looked back at George, who was squinting to read the sign, "Geez, George." He muttered, shaking his head as the crowd laughed.
He couldn't help but bashfully smile when he finally read it, "Awh, he's blushing." Matty teased. Instead of responding, Geroge flips him off. He smiles at you once more and winks before Matty steps in, "All right, that's enough. We get it, you love each other." He rolled his eyes while you laughed, "Back to me." He stated.
After the show, and after saying goodbye to the new friend you made in the pit, you were led backstage by a security guard to the green room where everyone else was hanging out.
The first person to see you walk in was, to no one's surprise, George, whose head had been on a swivel since they had sent the security guard to get you.
He jumped off the couch and immediately wrapped you in a big hug, one that was so powerful you had to take a few steps back so as to not fall over. He pulled away just far enough that he could get a good look at your face.
"I'm really sorry." You spoke at the same time before smiling when you realized you had said it at the same time.
"Really, I am." You stated.
"I know, I am, too." He leaned down, practically bent in half, so he could lean his forehead on yours, "How about this, we accept each other's apologies and spend the rest of the night together?" He offered.
"Yeah, that sounds good." You hummed, leaning up and kissing him.
"When's your flight?" He asked.
"Tomorrow at 10." He frowned, "I know." You sighed, "But we can enjoy tonight." You offered him a smile.
"Yeah." He nodded, whisking you away to grab a drink. Before making it to the drinks, you bumped into the Ross, who gave you a knowing smile.
“Mission accomplished, Mr. Macdonald.” You gave him a high-five.
“Glad to have been of service, Mrs. Daniel.” He winked when you rolled your eyes.
-
When you woke up the next morning, you really wished you hadn't. You didn't think you had too much to drink, but after 2, someone kept handing you drinks and you kept drinking them. The pounding headache was also a sign that had maybe a little too much to drink.
You glanced over at George, who was so asleep you didn't think a natural disaster would wake him. Sadly, you knew he didn't get good sleep like this while on tour, so you were upset you had to wake him but you also had a plane to catch.
"G." You whispered, placing soft gentle kisses on and around his face, to try and wake him, but to no one's surprise, he didn't wake up. You sighed and sent a quick prayer before standing up on the bed. You took a breath before you started jumping, "Wake up, wake up!" You shouted.
George instantly jolted awake and looked around, alarmed as he tried to calm his racing heart. When he saw you standing above him, an apologetic look on his face, he fell back on the bed and shut his eyes, trying to catch his breath.
"Sorry." You jumped down beside him and kissed his forehead, "I tried to wake you up nicely, but you could sleep through a tornado and I have a plane to catch."
He mumbled something you couldn't quite understand, but you knew he was wide awake now, so you left him to get ready while you got ready yourself.
By the time you were done getting ready and had packed all your stuff away, George had been ready and was waiting for you, watching TV in the other room.
"You ready?" You nodded, rolling your bags towards the door, but George stopped you, grabbing the handles, and leaving your hands free.
"Thank you." You smiled, holding the hotel room door open for him before you walked hand in hand down the hall towards the elevator.
The ride to the airport was quiet and short, too short for either of your likings. George got out first and helped you out then grabbed your bags from the trunk and set them down before turning to you, a pout on his face.
"I'll see you soon." You reminded him, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him close, "So soon."
"I know." He sighed, "Remember, call me when you land."
"I will." You nodded, pulling away so you could kiss him one last time, "Don't cause too much trouble without me."
"I won't." He smiled, pecking your lips one more time, "Get home safe."
"I will." You nodded before detaching yourself from him and grabbing the handles of your bags, "I love you." You told him one last time.
"I love you, too." He smiled, waving to you and watching you walk into the airport.
-
my taglist: @romanticingheroin @sadqn1 @befrwime @mattymybeloved @zzzhealy @fanaticalfantasist @thefrontofmymind @scooby-doodoo
add yourself to my taglist!
#george daniel imagine#george daniel imagines#george daniel x reader#george daniel fic#george daniel blurbs#george daniel#the 1975 imagine#the 1975 imagines#the 1975 fic#the 1975 blurbs#the 1975 fanfic#the 1975#george daniel fanfic#taylor writes: 1975#taylor writes
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Tastes Like Heaven
George Daniel x Reader
Author's Note: You can probably tell but i've never sucked dick so, this piece is also probs shit. oh well.
Warnings: dick sucking, hair pulling, gagging, idk what else
wc: 1664
It had been a long day in the studio for George. He’s been working on the latest ‘75 record everyday for the past few weeks. Every day, he wouldn’t get home until 3 am and would leave for the studio early in the mornings.
You had fallen asleep on the couch, waiting for him so you could go to bed together. Once you heard the click of the front door unlocking, you sat up and watched as your boyfriend walked into the living area. He looked exhausted, all you wanted to do was pull him into you and hold him as he got some much needed rest.
“Hi, darling. How was work today?” you asked him as he walked over and plopped himself on the couch next to you.
“It was alright. Matty was getting on my nerves though. Little twat can’t make up his mind sometimes.”
He goes to run his hands down his face.
Fuck
You can see the way he’s craning his neck back. The veins in his hands and arms are protruding his skin a bit. He lets out a little breath that sounds like a bit of a groan.
“Is there anything I can do to cheer you up?” you ask.
He grabs your hips and moves you to sit atop his lap. He wraps his arms around your hips and back, pulling you close as he nestles his face into your neck, breathing in the scent that is you.
“Just stay right here, please,” he says.
“Alright. I’ll stay.”
You two sit there for ages, just holding each other in the comfortable silence.
But you slowly become uncomfortable from the fact that you’ve had his growing erection slowly poking your ass through his jeans.
You slowly pull back to look at his face. He looks up at you with a tired look, but right underneath, you can see the hunger in his eyes.
You leaned in to give him a quick peck, to see if you were reading him right. And you were. He holds you to him by grabbing the side of your face and desperately kissing you. Your wet kisses filled the silence of the room. You moved to adjust yourself on his lap, lightly grazing his clothed crotch, making him shudder as you moved against him. His breath quivered as he arched his back, trying to gain more friction.
He moved his hand to grab the back of your neck, pulling on your hair, causing you to suck in a sharp breath. George took this opportunity to stick his tongue into your mouth, slightly sucking on your tongue.
The hand that isn’t holding you against him moves down to your upper thigh where he writes something with his finger
‘mine’
You swear you could cum right there. But you don’t.
George moves to take off your shirt and as soon as it’s off, he realizes you weren’t wearing anything else underneath it but a pair of thin, sheer panties.
“Oh fuck.” he whispered.
He goes to pull your panties to the side but you have other plans.
“Wait baby. Let me take care of you. You’ve had a long week. Do you wanna be a good boy for me and let me do all the work?”
“I’ll be good, promise.”
“I’ll take good care of you, promise.”
You move off his lap and kneel down infront of him, not before he took a pillow from the couch and dropped it on the floor for your knees.
“Don’t want my girl in pain now, do I?” he cheekily smirks at you.
You slowly and lightly trail a hand up his leg, teasingly going up his inner thigh before palming him through his pants. He lets out a groan as he rolls his head back, letting you see his exposed neck. Oh how you wish you could lick a trail up it.
You tauntingly moved to unbutton his pants, slowly pulling the zipper down before helping him pull them off completely.
You pressed soft kisses on the insides of his thighs, watching as he restrained himself from taking over and fucking you mercilessly.
You rested your head against his thigh as you reached to pull the waistband of his boxers down. As you did, his hardened cock sprung up. It was red and already beading with precum.
“Oh my, this looks painful, darling.” you say as you blow a breath of air on his tip, causing him to slightly thrust his hips up into nothing.
“Let me help you out a bit.”
You lightly wrap your hand around the tip and circle your wrist a bit, he’s gripping the couch cushions, his hands turning white as he tries not to lose it.
You run your hand up and down his cock twice before squeezing his tip then letting go.
George is starting to feel light headed from the teasing he’s had to endure, biting his lip to suppress some of the sounds his throat has been coiling.
You take his cock in one hand and lick a long strip along the side of his cock, eliciting a jaw dropping moan from George. The most gorgeous scene is displayed in front of you right now and you can’t help but squeeze your thighs together, trying to gain some friction. But this isn’t about you, it’s about the beautiful specimen of a man before you.
You kiss the tip of him before wrapping your lips around it and gently sucking on it. George’s body shudders as he quickly moves his hand to grab your hair and pull on it. His eyes are closed but that’s not what you want.
“Don’t close your eyes, baby. Look at me.” you condescend him.
Now, you take him in your mouth, slowly taking him in. He’s too big for your mouth though so you wrap your hand around the rest of him. George’s grip on your hair becomes tighter and you can feel how hard he’s resisting the urge to use you as a fuck toy and thrusting into your mouth.
You start bobbing your head up and down him, gradually going faster. Your hand matches the pace of your mouth.
The only sounds in the room are his moans and the wet sounds coming from your mouth as you suck him off.
You push yourself to try and fit him all in your mouth but it’s proving to be difficult. You push yourself until it’s hard to breathe. But you do it, you push down and reach his base, causing him to thrust up into your throat. You gag as he does so and let go of him and sit back on your knees as you try to regain your breath.
“I'm so sorry, darling. It was an accident, didn’t mean to.” he sits forward, massaging the back of your neck. You can see the sorrow all over his face, it really was an accident. But you didn’t mind it, you really enjoyed it actually.
There’s spit all over your face and tears are running down your face. Your hairs a mess but you’re still the most beautiful person in the world to him, even with how fucked out you look.
“That was hot.” was all you said before you pushed him back onto the couch and wrapped your hand around the base of his cock. You stroked him a few times before taking him into your mouth again and hollowing your cheeks.
You watch as his abs flex under the thin material of his shirt, trying not to roll his hips up. You can see how he’s struggling to breathe, he's panting and looking down at you with love and lust filled eyes.
You take this chance to gently wrap your free hand around his balls and twist them around a bit.
This new sensation makes George roll his head back against the back of the couch, his jaw dropping as he cries out for more.
“Baby, please don’t stop doing that. That’s so- ahh fuck, so fucking good.” he says.
You continue to play around with his balls as you bob up and down his cock. He’s getting close, you can feel it, with the way he’s twitching against your tongue.
You bob up and down him faster, slurping around his dick and letting out moans. The vibration drives him crazy. He’s a whimpering mess, he’s given up on restraining himself and is now thrusting up into your mouth, pushing so far that you’re gagging with every thrust. You can feel all your drool dripping down your chin and neck as he holds your head in place. Your lips are numb from having them wrapped around him for so long.
“Fuck baby, made for me. You were m-made for me, fuck, taking me so well in that pretty little mouth. Look better with my cock down your throat. Shit- My beautiful girl. Can I come in your mouth?” he asks so politely, as if he hasn’t been thrusting into your mouth, making you choke and gag.
You try and tell him you want him to come in your mouth but it comes out as a gargled mess, but he gets the message.
With a few more thrusts, he's spilling down your throat, keeping you pressed against the base of his cock as he empties into your mouth. His breathing is erratic as he lets you go.
You pull back and stick your tongue out to show him all that he gave you. He moves closer to you and grabs your chin between his fingers.
“Be a good girl and swallow for me.” he whispers in your ear.
You shiver from his warm breath and demanding tone of voice.
You do as he says, opening your mouth and to show him that you had swallowed all of him. He grabs you by the neck and kisses you, tasting the reminiscence of him that still coats your mouth.
“You taste like heaven.”
#the 1975 fic#the 1975 fanfic#the 1975 fanfiction#the 1975 smut#george daniel fic#george daniel fanfic#george daniel fanfiction#george daniel smut
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This is not a GIF. This is not a bloke lighting a cig. This is not a human back. This is ART.
#but omg george#george george george 🥰#we love George#george daniel#georgedanielfanfiction#george daniel fanfic#the 1975#the 1975 fanfic#the 1975 fanfiction#1975 smut#gatty#cellophane house#poses#lost boys
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f1 drivers and their reaction to "she's busy" ☆
summary: f1 drivers reacting to "she's busy bro"
warnings: fem pronouns, mentions of cheating, slightly suggestive, comedic threatening, nicknames (baby, babe, love) idk if there are any other???
charles, carlos, lewis, george, max
oscar, lando, alex, logan, daniel
an: tbf, if i dont get bf responses like this, im dying single. AND IF UR BF AINT RESPONDING LIKE THIS, LEAVE HIS ASS GIRL 🤞🏼
lemme know if u liked it 🫶🏼🫶🏼
#f1#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1#carlos sainz#charles leclerc#f1 instagram au#fanfiction#carlos sainz x reader#f1 fic#oscar piastri#lando norris x you#lando norris#alex albon#logan sargeant#george russel x reader#lewis hamilton#max verstappen x reader#logan sargent x reader#daniel ricciardo#lando norris fluff#lando norris x reader#formula one#boyfriend texts#f1 smau#lewis hamilton fluff#max verstappen#f1 fluff#carlos sainz fluff
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Boop!
Charles Leclerc x Reader x platonic!drivers
Summary: boop! boop! boop!
Max Verstappen strolls through the paddock, his mind preoccupied with race strategy, when suddenly a finger boops his nose.
“Boop!”
He blinks in surprise to find you grinning at him mischievously. “Y/N? What are you doing?“
“Booping!” You giggle, already breezing past him.
Max just shakes his head bemused as you make your way over to Lando Norris, who is chatting animatedly with his trainer. Without pause, you reach out and boop Lando’s nose.
“Boop!”
Lando’s eyes widen comically. “Wha … Y/N!”
You merely flash him a cheeky smile before skipping off, leaving a confused Lando behind.
Lewis Hamilton raises an eyebrow as you approach, but you disarm him with a brilliant smile before booping his nose lightly.
“Boop, Lew!”
The veteran driver blinks slowly. “Well, someone’s in a playful mood today.”
“Just bringing some fun to the paddock!” You trill, already bouncing towards the next target — a very confused Oscar Piastri.
As you boop Oscar’s nose with a cheerful “Boop!” that has him staring cross-eyed, Daniel Ricciardo happens to wander over, watching the scene with amusement dancing in his eyes.
“What’s all this then?“ Daniel chuckles as Oscar shoots him a pleading look.
You spin towards Daniel with a grin. “Boop!”
The Australian laughs as you tap his nose, not even trying to dodge. “You’re proper zippy today, aren’t ya?“
With a parting wink, you flit off to find your next victim. Logan Sargeant jumps when you appear beside him and boop his nose without warning.
“Gah! Oh, it’s just you, Y/N.” Logan exhales in relief as you chirp, “Boop!”
Pierre Gasly watches you dubiously as you skip up to him. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I don’t think I want any part of-”
“Boop!”
You cut him off cheerfully by booping his nose, leaving Pierre blinking owlishly as you dance off to accost Alex Albon.
“Hey, hey, watch out!” Alex yelps as your finger lands on the tip of his nose with a decisive “Boop!”
You simply beam at him before bouncing towards Yuki Tsunoda. The young Japanese driver eyes you warily.
“What do you want?“
“Boop!” You poke his nose lightly.
“What does that even mean?“ Yuki mutters in bafflement as you skip away, already focusing on your next target.
Fernando Alonso regards you with an arched eyebrow as you approach. You don’t even break stride, swiftly booping his nose with a cheeky “Boop!” before carrying on, leaving the eldest rookie of F1 faintly bemused.
Spotting George Russell chatting with Lance Stroll, you make a beeline for the duo. As you reach them, you boop first George’s nose with a bright “Boop!” earning a surprised blink, then turn and boop Lance, calling out a cheery “Boop!”
Lance gapes at you. “Did you just … boop me?“
“Yep!” You shoot him a sunny smile before whirling off in search of new targets.
As you roam the paddock, your gaze lands on your boyfriend laughing with his mechanics. Shooting him a mischievous look, you zip over and stand on your tiptoes to plant a loud “Boop!” on his nose.
Charles jerks back, eyes widening comically before focusing on you. “Mon amour? What are you doing?“
You bite your lip coquettishly, eyes sparkling as you watch him process what just happened.
Slowly, a grin tugs at the corners of Charles’ mouth. “Oh, I see how it is.”
Quick as a flash, he reaches out to boop your nose lightly. “Boop!”
You let out a delighted laugh as he pulls you into his arms, cradling your face in his hands as he gazes at you adoringly. Your smiles mingle barely a breath apart before Charles leans in to capture your lips in a sweet kiss that sends butterflies fluttering in your belly.
As he draws back, eyes twinkling, Charles murmurs, “Not that I’m complaining, but why did you suddenly decide to go around booping everyone’s noses today?“
You grin up at him impishly. “Well, there’s this thing called tumbl-”
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#charles leclerc x reader#max verstappen x reader#lando norris x reader#lewis hamilton x reader#oscar piastri x reader#daniel ricciardo x reader#logan sargeant x reader#pierre gasly x reader#alex albon x reader#yuki tsunoda x reader#fernando alonso x reader#george russell x reader#lance stroll x reader#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#boop
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F1 DRIVERS AND WHEN
THEY GET JEALOUS
( include piastri, norris, leclerc, sainz, hamilton, russel, verstappen & ricciardo )
warning : light jealousy, haven't proofread sorry
─ OSCAR PIASTRI
this boy is such a cutie patootie, he wouldn't get jealous that much. he's just so in love with you and he trusts you with all his heart that he will not be that much bothered by men who try to talk to you. but sure, when he knows the guy has bad intentions towards you, jealousy doesn't take too before completely drown him out. he'd never let anyone steal you away from him. he simply make leave the man before making sure everyone knows you're his lover.
─ LANDO NORRIS
he would certainly get jealous easily and for pretty much everything. this boy is so in love with you that he just wants to keep you all for himself. but his reactions and intentions are just cute. he will try to get your attention, distracting you from the person you are talking to. and when that doesn't work, he'll probably pout all day until you give him thousands of kisses on his face. of course he will never admit that he is jealous, he has too much ego and sass for that.
─ CHARLES LECLERC
you know exactly when he's jealous since he becomes a little more distant and quiet. he would savagely glare at the man who is trying to make you laugh. he can't help but stare at you, silently praying that this man would stop approaching you. but he won't be able to stop himself from coming to you, ridding you of this situation that was making him lose his mind. However, only one thing can take away his jealousy: a passionate kiss from you.
─ CARLOS SAINZ
he trusts you with his eyes closed, so it's rare for him to get all worked up when he's jealous. he is simply rarely jealous. but when this happens and he feels jealous, it's because he feels a little insecure. he keeps wondering if you plan to leave him for someone else. whether you still love him or not. and since you know him by heart, you always reassure him by telling him how much he doesn't need to feel this way since there is no man you want except him. but be careful, that doesn't mean he doesn't try to push away every person who tries to lust after you
─ LEWIS HAMILTON
like carlos, he is mature enough to know that nothing will ever happen between you and other people, so the word jealousy is not necessarily in his vocabulary. However, when he becomes clingy and needy, this word definitely becomes the most important to him. he will prevent you from interacting with another person because he simply wants to have your full attention just for himself. the fact that he's needy just makes him jealous of every person who talks to you, because he just wants to be the one you talk to.
─ GEORGE RUSSEL
he won't let you go all day after he sees you laughing with someone other than him. he will ask you lots of questions, like “I understand, you don't love me anymore”, “you prefer him/her to me”. but of course, it's just to laugh and tease you and make the situation more pleasant. even if he feels a little jealousy deep in his heart, this jealousy will never be as strong as the love he feels for you. and on the contrary, george will proudly admit that yes, of course he is jealous. very jealous even.
─ MAX VERSTAPPEN
he tries to show in every possible way that you are together. that you are his, and he is yours. that you form the most beautiful couple in this world. so of course there is very little chance that you will be approached by someone else. since after all, no one wants to confront a max who is jealous. he absolutely does not stop himself from sending away those who try to lust after you, a big mocking smile on his lips. but he will also apologize to you later, feeling sorry for overreacting so much.
─ DANIEL RICCIARDO
this boy would completely turn the situation around. At first, you tease him to make him jealous, laughing with one of your friends. and it works. you can clearly see the jealousy in the way he looks at you and the firm expression he displays. but after reflection, he will turn the situation around in order to tease you in turn. he notices that you don't like the way he laughs with this girl. but at the end of the day, you can't help but laugh in each other's arms. because you know that after all, you're only doing this to tease yourselves.
#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#oscar piastri x reader#lando norris x reader#charles leclerc x reader#carlos sainz x reader#lewis hamilton x reader#george russel x reader#max verstappen x reader#daniel riccardo x reader#f1 fluff#f1 x you
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love potion (sweetheart!george x reader fluff)
george's gf gets a new perfume and he's obsessed. short and sweet. day 2 of valentine's week. enjoy <3
you drop your bag onto the desk before you slide into your seat. yawning, you pull your textbooks and pencil case from the bag, taking out a pen and tapping it against the front of your exercise book while you wait for the rest of the class and the teacher to file in.
well, while you wait for one specific person to walk in. it doesn't turn out to be a long one, though; luckily - and characteristically, you suppose - he's on time.
“i recognise that rhythm, you little thief,” george's smile is audible as he walks behind you to get to his own seat, and a big one appears on your own face at the sound of his voice. he winks at you as he stands and pulls his books from his bag, and you can't help but grin. “sorry for making you sit through band practice for so long on saturday that you memorised my drum part, baby.”
“s'ok. i like watching you play,” you turn in your chair as george sits next to you, leaning on the back of your seat and looking adoringly at him. “i think it's hot.”
your boyfriend smirks at you, shuffling his chair closer to yours and slinging an arm around your shoulders. “i think you're hot. morning, angel,” he leans in to kiss your cheek, but snaps back to look at you almost as soon as his lips meet your skin, eyes wide. “what is that?”
“what's what? have i gone patchy?” your brow furrows, and you rifle in your blazer pocket for the compact mirror you know you picked up before you left for school. strange - you thought you'd done a decent job with your makeup, for a monday morning. “seriously, g, is there something weird going on with my face? tell me, please.”
he doesn't answer, just closes his eyes slowly and lightly nods the way he does when he's processing.
it makes you panic. “george!”
your boyfriend jumps. “hmm? nah, you're gorgeous. sorry, angel, what i mean is… what's that smell?” george practically shoves his whole face into your neck and inhales deeply. you giggle, slightly nervous of being caught engaging in pda, and gently shove him off you; he sits back and smiles at you, eyes dazed. “did you get new perfume, or something?”
“oh,” you touch your neck almost self-consciously, nails grazing the pulse point you'd spritzed onto just under an hour ago. “yeah, when i went into manchester with mum yesterday. gucci.”
“ooh, posh,” he smirks, laughing when you elbow him and leaning back in his seat quite attractively. “smells amazing, though. i really like it.”
“yeah?”
george nods. “yeah,” he sits up again, nuzzling into you and inhaling the fragrance a second time. “gonna stay like this for the rest of the day, thanks. maybe for the rest of time, in fact.”
you giggle. “you're an idiot, babe.”
“only cos you're irresistible,” george takes a final sniff of your perfume before moving to sit properly. “you and that perfume. gonna be a struggle keeping my hands off you all day.”
“nah,” you ruffle his hair. “ the novelty'll wear off soon. you’ll be fine.”
oh, how wrong you are.
that first class - the only one you actually have with george today - is fine, albeit your boyfriend constantly leaning closer to you “just so i can see the board without that guy’s massive head in the way, babe”, despite him never having complained about an obstructed view before. you don't say anything, just nod and bite back your grin and do your best to focus on your work; easier said than done, when george’s lips are only inches from your own. if you just turned your head…
jesus. what is up with the two of you?
he does kiss you, though, when the bell rings at the end of class. that in itself isn't unusual - despite your aversion to pda, you know everyone's too busy rushing to shove everything back in their schoolbags and make it to next period to be looking at you and george - but you do let yourself linger against his lips for a little bit longer than usual before pulling away.
actually, it's george who breaks the kiss first. “you're trying to kill me, aren't you?” he breathes, helping you up from your seat and wrapping you into a hug. “wearing that perfume, kissing me like that. and here i thought you were a nice girl.”
you laugh, leading him towards the door. “well, babe, you know what they say - always the quiet ones.”
“yeah,” george hugs you again when you reach the corridor; you giggle when he, yet again, deliberately takes a breath of your perfume. “see you later, angel. don't miss me too much.”
“i should be saying that to you!” you scoff, ruffling his hair. “bye, baby.”
you pass your boyfriend again an hour later, on opposite sides of the art corridor. a cheeky grin appears on his face when he spots you from a few feet away, and judging by the warmth in your cheeks you reckon there's a flush forming on yours. it's busy, two parallel currents of people coursing up and down to their respective next classes, but george still takes a second to lean over and kiss your head when you get near enough to each other. “you smell amazing!” he shouts, as you separate again.
“oh my god, stop it!” you call back, elbowing your suddenly-hysterical friends and turning to walk even faster towards the languages department. george’s laugh is audible, even as you move; he shuts up abruptly, though, and you hear (in quick succession) a bashing noise, your friends’ giggles turning to gasps, and the stern voice of the head of art. you're too far away to hear what she’s saying, but it can't be anything good. you wince. “someone tell me what just happened. i can't look.”
“i think,” jodie's shoulders are shaking, a telltale sign of her trying to keep from laughing. “george might have just walked straight into the door because he was too distracted by you, and miss malone's giving him shit for it.”
“what?!”
“and yet,” saira smirks. “he's still trying to look back at you.”
you shake your head, trying your best not to smile. “idiot boy.”
and you're sure to call george that to his only slightly bruised face at 3pm, when he swans out of the music corridor doors towards you, waiting with folded arms, cocked hip, and knowing smirk. you pull him into a hug. “i can't believe you walked into a fucking door.”
“don't you fucking start,” george groans, doing his best to lean down and hide his face in your hair for a second, before leading you towards the gates. “s'your fault i did it, anyway. and also that i fucked up in double music.”
“oh, piss off, it was not my- wait,” you stop dead in your tracks, turning round to gawk at your boyfriend. “did you just say you fucked up in music?”
he frowns, only speeding up his walking to the point he's less holding your hand than dragging you behind him down the street. your jaw drops. “you fucked up in music. you? george daniel? you fucked up?”
“if you mention it to literally anyone, i'm never giving you a lift anywhere ever again.”
you kiss his cheek. “alright. i'm sorry, baby. but… how?”
george sighs. “kept falling out of time because i got distracted thinking about your new perfume.”
“you being serious?”
“dead,” he nods. a tiny smile appears on his pretty face. “teacher kept asking me if i was ill. that's how bad it was.”
“oh my god,” you sling his arm over your shoulder, looking up at him with a grin. “maybe you are. maybe you're having some weird allergic reaction to it, and it's giving you brain fog.”
“but then why would i want to keep snuggling with you?”
you shrug. “seeking comfort because you're poorly? i don't know.”
“hmm, you could be right. maybe i am ill,” george ponders. without warning, he turns you in towards him and begins pressing kisses all over your face and making you giggle. “i think i'm lovesick.”
you shove your bag further up your shoulder and wrap your arms around george's neck. “god, how awful. what's the cure?” you sigh dramatically.
he grins, one of the shit-eating variety. “a snog from my girl.”
“oh, i think we can manage that,” you lean up on your tiptoes and press your lips to your boyfriend's, sighing into his mouth when his tongue traces your lower lip. george’s kisses always leave you dazed, and this is no exception - he has to hold your hips to keep you from wobbling too much when you break apart, breathing heavily. “wow. you cured?”
“nah, think i need a second dose when we get back to mine,” george smiles. “once my homework's done, that is.”
your eyes widen. “ok, maybe you are actually genuinely ill.”
“i'm serious!” george tugs you onto his street. “get all the distractions out the way first, so i can focus on what really matters: snogging you.”
“right,” you nod, biting your lip so you don't laugh, as george digs around his pockets for his house key. he kisses your cheek as he ushers you inside, and you preen at the sweet gesture. “well, we'll see how much we get done, babe.”
“all of it. i'm determined. even chemistry.”
you kiss his head as he bends to unlace his shoes, unconvinced he’ll have the willpower. “sure, sweetheart, whatever you say.”
for the second time in a day, though, you're proven wrong. george powers through his work in a couple of hours, sliding everything off his bed once he's finished with the most smug face you think you've ever seen. “time for my lovesick meds, i think.”
“alright. but you better not be thinking about me in one of those slutty nurse halloween costumes,” you say, getting up from the bed to grab something from your bag.
there's a muffled noise from behind you, which you figure is george face-planting into a pillow. “well, i am now,” he sighs, leaning round to look at you, and sits bolt upright when he sees you spritzing perfume onto your wrists and neck. “is that…?”
“it is,” you wander back over to the bed, climbing onto your boyfriend's lap and resting your arms on his shoulders. his make do with rubbing your thighs through your tights. “your favourite.”
george smiles. “nah,” before you can even react, he flips the two of you so you're lying beneath him. “you're my favourite. i love you.”
“i love you,” you pout your lips, and george takes the hint. he kisses you, long and slow and sloppy, teeth pulling at each other's lips, tongues licking into each other's mouths, hands trailing and cupping and squeezing and caressing, brains getting hazier by the second as the oxygen leaves and the dopamine sets in. you gasp when you feel his lips move across your jaw and down your neck, pressing soft kisses before settling on a recently-discovered spot that drives you mad, while his deft fingers work to remove your tie and unbutton the top buttons of your blouse - he pulls the fabric aside slightly and continues to trail kisses down, soaking up the drip trail of your perfume and gently biting when he reaches the edge of your bra. softly moaning, you card your fingers through his hair. “george.”
quick as a flash, he's hovering over you again, stroking your cheek. “you alright, angel? is there something you want?”
“yeah,” you breathe, twisting to kiss the tip of his thumb - and savouring the way his breath catches in his throat - before smiling your sexiest smile. “close the door.”
#mads muses#mads does writing#valentine75#george daniel fanfiction#george daniel fic#george daniel fanfic#george daniel x reader#george x reader#george daniel fluff#sweetheart!george
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request time 👀
george teaching reader how to smoke a joint for the first time, at the same time she’s matty’s little sister so is a secret relationship. I love a bit of drama
first time
some amazing blogs on here, @ughgoaway and @shinycollarboneapologist have already done the brother's best friend trope so i really urge you to go check out their fics as well. in the meantime... have fun 🤭💕
warning: weed obv and that's it i guess.
oh, btw... this is who you are thinking about. this is who this fic is about <33 (both gifs by @pleasedontbenaked i genuinely fucking hope the credit thing works 😭)
“andrew? really?” george stands at the bottom of the stairs looking down at her, one perfect eyebrow raised high. “you went to that twat for weed?”
oh.
her eyes widen at the mention of the w word. george is a fucking idiot—she knew that obviously, all her brother’s friends are idiots—but she didn’t know he would be stupid enough to just blurt it out in the house with her parents within earshot.
involuntarily she moves, slapping her hand on his mouth and harshly tugging on his wrist. “shut up! not here!”
george does nothing but raise the other eyebrow while slowly lowering his gaze to her hand. it’s on his mouth. touching his lips. mortifyingly enough, she comes to that realisation a second after he does and yanks her hand away as if he’s burned it.
george smirks. because what else do insufferable 20 year old boys do? but he lets her tug him to her bedroom and slam the door shut.
“yes. andrew.” she glares at him once she’s sure there’s no one eavesdropping. “are you gonna tell matty?”
because he would tell her brother as if she were a child. she’s 18, has been an adult for 2 months now but of course, to george (and ross and adam) she will always be their best friend’s little sister. the thought stings a bit when she looks up at george who’s cavalierly leaning against her door.
his arms are crossed in front of his chest, biceps and colourful tattoos on full display because of the tank top he’s wearing. she would never admit to this out loud, but she has certainly looked at the tattoos (and the arms) on more than one more occasion.
still the fact remains. george is insufferable—just like his little all-knowing smirk.
“now why would i snitch?” he drawls out and then pushes himself off the door. something has piqued his interest. “what do you want it for?”
she can’t help the snark and sass that rises up within her at that. “for a science experiment. what do you think i want it for?”
george rolls his eyes. “okay, smartarse. maybe i should go tell—”
she tugs on his arm a second time to stop him, effectively stopping him mid-sentence. like an idiot, she’s taken the bait.
george laughs when she groans into her hands. it’s a deep and rich sound; one that skitters down her spine… no! stop. focus.
“if you simply must know…” she glares, “my friends and i are trying it for the first time. at a sleepover. they asked if i could get some since, you know, matty’s practically a stoner at this point. but he’s also a little shit.” then she raises her chin primly, “i would never buy from him.”
“and so you went to andrew…”
“and so i went to andrew.”
george snickers. “you know he keeps his little baggies in his pants, right? like literally in his pants?”
she, in fact, did not know that. and judging by some more snickering, she can tell her face has turned a nasty shade of green. brief as it may have been, she absolutely did touch the little baggie andrew had discretely shoved into her hands. and now she needs to immediately dunk herself into a vat of sanitizer.
george seems to have taken pity on her, though, because his features soften and the smirk turns into a small smile.
“so you’re all planning to get high together for the first time?”
is this an attempt at small talk? why would he even try? still, if he’s trying to be civil, she can respond in kind.
“...yes. for the first time.”
“do you even know what to expect?”
that makes her roll her eyes. it might be her first time, sure, but she’s not fully oblivious. “i have seen all of you blitzed out of your mind, george. i think i know what to expect.”
“so you don’t actually know what you’re doing.”
she's about to protest but he's already on the move. she watches with her mouth agape as george saunters towards her bed, examining all her little trinkets on the way. he runs his hands on the books on her bedside table, on the cds she neatly keeps on her shelves. there are posters on her walls—bowie, queen, the rolling stones, among others. then there are photos with her friends and her parents, another one where matty is 15 and she’s 12, in pigtails and grinning at the camera while matty does his edgy, angsty teenager grimace.
there’s also a polaroid she took of the band rehearsing. matty looks like he’s in the middle of tuning his guitar. adam is looking off-camera and ross is texting on his phone. but george…george is sitting against the wall. arms behind his head and drumsticks still in his hands. his jaw is slightly tilted up, jawline sharp enough to cut. he looks like he’s trying to figure something out while the rest of them goof around.
she remembers that day so clearly; remembers how excited matty was to show her a song they’d been working on. she remembers george smiling at her when she complimented the song.
george throws himself onto her bed, yanking her out of her thoughts.
“sit,” he motions at a spot next to him as if this weren’t her room and her bed.
“what…”
“i said, sit,” he repeats, “i’m not going to let you walk into the unknown with your idiot friends.”
several questions rise up, along with indignation at him for calling her friends idiots. she’s about to ask them all in one breath but he shuts her up with one look and takes his wallet out.
oh no… oh no no no.
“absolutely fucking not!” it almost comes out as a shout but she manages to turn it into a whisper at the last minute. “are you insane, george? my brother is literally in his bedroom!”
“relax, darling,” he drawls out as if none of this is concerning to him. and continues taking out a bit of rolling paper and a baggie of weed from his wallet. “your brother thinks i’ve gone home.”
this is somehow even more concerning information. what happens when matty hears them and barges into her room to check—it’s not like he knows the concept of knocking anyway.
also he’s just called her darling…
“but—”
“you’re overthinking,” he interrupts. “focus now. i’m teaching you how to roll a joint.”
times like these, she wishes she could simply whack him on the head, preferably with one of her hardcovers. but the rolling paper in front of her is intriguing, to say the least. and as much as she wants to be annoyed, she knows she can at least trust him to guide her through her first time.
“if you get me in trouble, george, i swear…”
“i won’t,” he places a hand on his chest and looks at her intently, “i promise.”
gingerly, tentatively, she sits in front of him; legs crossed and eyes firmly on the things in front of her.
“now this is what you want to do…” he picks up the paper and curves it slightly between his fingers. his forehead is creased in concentration, lips parted slightly while he continues to talk about the joint. her focus, however, has already wandered.
his fingers are deftly working away—adding in a good amount of weed and putting the tip in. her eyes wander over his hands—knuckles in the process of healing still like they always are. she used to think he got into a lot of fights until she found out that they were a result of the drumming. and then she couldn’t stop thinking about him, sweaty and tank top clinging to him…maybe even shirtless…as he worked on the latest song.
god she was a fucking cliche for thinking about her brother’s best friend like this. utterly basic and unoriginal.
george snaps his fingers in front of her face.
“where d’you wander off to?”
“um–ah…what? sorry,” she mumbles quickly and averts her gaze to where he’s half-sprawled on her bed. long, graceful limbs and all.
“focus, darling,” he chastises in a stern voice and the neurons in her brain instantly misfire. “now look.”
he picks up the paper with the weed in it and expertly rolls it while leaving some space at the end, twists the top and then as if it’s nothing, he licks the end—slow and deliberate and keeping his eyes on her—before finally sticking it shut.
if the neurons had misfired before, they have completely shut down now. she doesn’t even register it when she swallows roughly, eyes wide and trained on his mouth which slowly curls into a smirk once again.
“like what you see?” he asks and then cheekily adds, “the joint, i mean. it’s pretty perfect, isn’t it?”
“mm-hmm”
“should we smoke it?”
“uhh…” her voice is barely even a whisper, thoughts hardly coherent. he wants to smoke it with her? “now?”
“no time like the present.” then he sits up properly. “wait, have you at least smoked a fag before?”
she nods mutely and clears her throat, “once.”
“ooohhh. thought you were a good girl, healy…”
she blushes deeply then; absolutely unable to meet his eyes after that. heat spreads over her face and fuck it...but there’s no coming back from this now. god, he’s going to know about her embarrassing teenage crush and he’s going to tell matty about it and matty will not let her live it down.
she almost wants to cry out but he’s not done torturing her. because a second later he takes his lighter out and holds it under the joint.
“want to shotgun first?”
“um…uh…”
speak, you fucking idiot, her brain screams at her but unfortunately, it does not seem connected to her mouth at the moment. he’s going to know that she’s short-circuiting. he’s going to know how flustered he makes her.
fuck fuck fuck
“unless you don’t want—”
“yes,” she interrupts quickly. because the thought of not doing it is so much worse than shotgunning george.
“come closer, then. and open your mouth.”
he curves his palm around the flame to stop it from going out; joint resting lazily between his lips before he hollows his cheeks and takes a drag of it. the smoke rests in his mouth for a second or two before he leans forward; almost as if he’s about to kiss her.
the blood in her veins flows at the speed of light, her heart is thumping so fast that it’s a surprise he hasn’t heard it yet. he’s so close… he’s never been this close before. she’s never seen the exact colour of his eyes this clearly before or felt his hair tickle her face.
then he parts his lips and blows out the smoke in her mouth. a long exhale and a sharp intake of breath from her. his gaze dips to her lips before returning to her eyes. she imagines she’s done the same because a moment later his eyes are back on her mouth.
the smoke spreads through her body, warm and earthy, and slowly makes its way to her head. there’s a brief flash of panic and hesitation but she pushes it away.
then she leans closer.
----
(yes i'm ending it there for evil reasons)
#asks#blurb asks#the 1975#george daniel#george daniel x you#george daniel x reader#george daniel fanfic#george daniel fluff#ross macdonald#matty healy#adam hann#george x you#george x reader#george daniel blurb#the 1975 fic#the 1975 fluff#brother's best friend
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Best Secret Santa - The Grid x Driver! Reader
Plot: in which everyone wants to have Y/N as their secret Santa because she is the best gift giver and never fails to make peoples day by going above and beyond for it!
Credit to f1-stuff for the GIF
2017
“So Y/N this is the first year of Secret Santa, how excited are you!” The F1 interviewer asks!
“I’m so excited! I love gift gifting it’s one of my love languages to show people that I know them, and I listen to them!”
“Okay are you ready to open your gift then?” She asks pushing forward a small bag that had presents wrapped up very nicely inside. You take the bag and look at the wrapping paper, it was well wrapped and good quality.
You open the first which feels as if it could be a wooden box but doesn’t really indicate what it could be.
You see that you were correct and a wooden box with your favourite paint brand is there on the top. You unclip the clasp that’s holding the lid down seeing the various paints.
“Oh this is a good present, but not many people know that I paint on the grid.
“Who knows you paint in the grid?” She asks you.
“Hmmm Romain Grosjean, K Mag, Kimi”
“So do you think it could be one of them?”
“Maybe… potentially Kimi, he knows me very well and has really helped me as a Red Bull Junior Driver and in my Rookie Year this Year”
“I think if you open the second present you’ll know who your secret Santa is” she explains and you take the second present of the table, it was pretty weighty but not as heavy as the paints.
“This feels like a book, like a hard back” you say as you start to tear into it. And it was, it was the Romain Grosjean book.
“It’s Romain!! He’s my Secret Santa?” You look at the F1 with a massive wide grin making her smile back at her!
“Wait, come with me” she becons the lady and camera crew to follow her. She walks through the building they are all in, in Abu Dhabi until she finds Romain.
“Romain, Romain wait up wait up” you shout running after him making the camera crew follow!
“Ahhh i see you received my gift!” He exclaims and she pulls him into a thankful hug.
“Please can you sigh it Mr Grosjean, I’m a huge fan of your work in Haas!” You exclaim, handing him a pen making him chuckle but still sign the book he gifted to you!
“Thank you for you time” you giggle before the cameras cut, and they decide to do Romains secret Santa while he is there.
*Flip*
“And now we are here with Lewis Hamilton who we’ve interrupted from getting ready for his Mercedes After Party for his 4 time world championship” the F1 lady smiles at Lewis Hamilton and he kindly smiles back.
“So your Secret Santa went all out, we’ve had to set the cameras a little further back and you’ve got some sizeable gifts here but they requested you read the card first”
“Holy shit” Lewis says as they start to bring in a huge box (big enough to fit the likes of Toto Wolff inside) followed by a smaller bag to the left that had three neatly wrapped presents inside.
“Who, what the fuck” Lewis says looking at the camera as if he was on the office. He looks at the F1 presenter who just shrugs her shoulders and waits for him to open the card.
“Dear Lewis, Here are 4 gifts to commemorate your 4 World Championships! Have a great winter season, and here’s to many more championships ahead! Love, Your Secret Santa” he reads seeing the little doodles inside the card.
“Any ideas on who it could be” she asks.
“No clue, everyone on the grid would know how many championships I’ve won, so this doesn’t give away much” he offers with a laugh. He grabs the bag wanting to leave the big present till last.
“Ohhh a Vegan Cook book, so they know I’m Vegan and a Japan Fridge Magnet. Okay so this is either Max or Y/N as they shared a podium with me, I’m sure off it!” He grins before taking the next present out the bag.
“What is this” he says unwrapping a rather small but oddly shaped present.
“Oh that’s so cute it’s a Dog Collar for Roscoe! Wait, holy shit it’s personalised from Dior. Surely this can’t be Max, is it Max?” He asks and the F1 presenter just shrugs.
“Thank you, this honestly is very thoughtful as Roscoe is one of my favourite things and I love the brand and wear it all the time!” He grins.
“Okay, how about we attempt to open this bigger present. I don’t actually know how you’ll get this through customs”
“I’m scared to see what it is” Lewis laughs before tearing the box open. Inside is a surfboard that is hand painted on either side with Lewis car and many other little doddles to cover the board that has something to do with Lewis.
“Oh woah a custom made board, this must have been really expensive to have made” he says observing it before picking out all the different doodles and talking about them.
“It’s not custom made, your Secret Santa actually Hand Painted this themselves” Lewis head snaps away from the board to look at the presenter in shock.
“Oh it’s got to be Y/N”
“That is correct”
“Y/N you are the cutest. I will use this board today here in Abu Dhabi before I make good use of it in the off season! I’ve never actually had anything like this before so thank you so much, you are so very thoughtful and you have the kindest soul! Thank you for everything and I hope to share a podium with you in 2018” he smiles grinning before turning his attention back to the surfboard.
2018
“Hello Y/N it is now November 2018, after the final Grand Prix of the 2018 season. So you know what time that is!” The F1 presenter asks.
“SECRET SANTA!” You scream, pulling forward the presents, there was a medium sized box in front of you.
“Can I start”
“Of course”
You pulled the lid of the box off and immediately gasp at the first thing that isn’t wrapped that you can see what it is!
“Oh my lord, how - I’ve been needing new camera lenses and a case for mine! I take pictures of everyone around the paddock! So it could be anyone, but I was talking to Max, Pierre and Dani about needing new lenses …” you admit looking to see if the F1 presenter would give you a reactionary hint.
“Oh and there’s a small envelope. I hope you enjoy this retreat with your new lenses, maybe gain a new perspective before 2019” you read out before out of the envelope you pull out flight tickets, and a small cabin hotel booking confirmation for Italy.
“No no no stop this is too much” you say tears filling up in your eyes.
“Who do you think it is” the F1 presenter asks.
“It’s Dani Ric” you cry, the words coming out strained as you look around to see if he is watching you.
“How’d you know” she asks.
“Because we had a talk about how I felt shit about this season and that the Torro Rosso wasn’t built well this year. And how him leaving Red Bull wasn’t an easy choice but it was one he had to make” you sob. The presenter comes over and pull you into a comforting hug rubbing your back and you hug into her more.
“Hey Squirt” an Australian accent comes from behind you and you fling yourself off the presenter and turn to look at the reason for your tears.
“You made me cry on camera” you say pointing to the camera and then your gifts.
“Aw I’m glad you like them! I was worried I hadn’t done well enough!” He grins rubbing your head before pulling you into a tight hug.
“I love them! And I’ll do better next year for you! I promise” you smile and he grins back at you!
*Flip*
“Hello Charles, how are you!”
“I am very good thank you. I see that there is a lot of presents here, all varying in size and it worries me. This is my first year and I don’t know many people that well!” He says looking between all the presents.
“Well here’s the card that came with it” she says passing over the red envelope that he opens the second his gets his hands on it.
“Dear Charlie, hmmm there’s not many that call me Charlie. Amazing first year in Alfa Romeo, can’t wait to see what you do in Ferrari” he reads out thinking of who it could be.
“It’s Y/N for sure. Between the amount of presents here and the note saying Charlie it must be her!” He exclaims before tearing into his first present. There were Alfa Romeo socks, with little jelly snake candies.
“Ah to remember my time in Alfa Romeo, these Candies actually look so good! Thank you!” He says observing the candies.
“This box is small, but heavy” he observes before pulling out a watch box.
“Oh my god, it’s a Ferrari watch. Look at this beauty! I will wear this now I think” He offers showing the camera the Ferrari official watch you’d got him. He places it on his wrist, looking at it before grinning and showing the camera.
“Okay this next one looks very very big, and oh it’s super heavy. I don’t even think I can lift that up”
He starts to tear off the paper, showing a cardboard box with a stamp on top, of what Charles assumed to be the place she’d got it from.
“Antiques Auction House? What is that?” He asks not knowing.
“It’s a place you bid to get rare objects” the F1 presenter grins and Charles looks up in shock. He carefully takes the tape off the lid and pulls the heavy hunk of metal out of the box. He pulls down the bubble wrap to reveal a Ferrari paddock sign.
“Is this real?” He gasps looking it over.
“Yes, maybe take a look at the race it’s from and the year” the presenter asks pushing him to look at the front a little closer.
“Monza 1996, that’s the year I was born! This gift, is so thoughtful and I will put it in my apartment where my sim is so everyone is able to see it when they come over! Hopefully this will bring me luck in Ferrari and in Monza next year so thank you Y/N”
He picks up the next gift which is small and flimsy. He immediately thinks it’s clothing.
As he tears open he holds up the t-shirt bursting out laughing looking at both sides.
On the front it was a radio from his that year printed on saying “woHooooo, Oh Yes! That feels good! - France 2018” and on the back there were words that were printed on there saying “Ask me what happened in France 2018” as a funny sexual innuendo from how crude the radio has sounded with no context behind it!
“This is hilarious and Y/N never fails with these joke gifts. That’s something I’ve noticed, I know this has only been done 2 years now but last year she had two jokey gifts for Lewis and 2 really nice thoughtful ones. This year I have similar! She’s a really good gift giver! She goes above and beyond!”
“She really does! I always get excited, just to see what Y/N gets her Secret Santa each year!”
“I think after this, if they didn’t before, everyone wants her as their gift giver!”
“Okay last gift Charles”
He open up to see a plastic CD cover, decorated by Y/N. He opens it up seeing a note inside.
“For when you finally record something on the piano” he looks up at the presenter and he shows her the cute cover the artistic grid member has designed.
“This is beautiful and I will fill it with tracks I will share with you Y/N thank you again and Merry Christmas Cheri!” He grins.
Y/N definitely spend over her own private budget this secret Santa but she couldn’t help having a small crush on the Alfa Romeo, future Ferrari boy.
2019
“Y/N, you know it’s my favourite time of the year just because you are here serving us once again with your amazing and seemingly limitless gift giving skills. I do have to ask how did you get that Monza pit board”
“Well, my dad is good friends with a Motorsport enthusiast, who has an auction house for Motorsports and Cars, and I won it in August, and was going to give it to Charles as an end or year well done/ Christmas present, but when I got him for secret Santa it made sense to put it in his gifts” you explain.
“Amazing okay so here are you presents for the 2019 season!”
“Oh my gosh I know who this is already! It’s K Mag” you exclaims seeing the pottery set! You’d been saying to him how you wanted to start getting into pottery and how you’d just brought one of the proper stoves to bake them in.
“We spoke about this before, and of course this Metallica Funko Pop would have given it away if the pottery didn’t! Omg I can’t wait to make you and your wife a vase! Thank you so much! I will bring it with me at the start of next season!” You exclaim looking in awe at the two presents in front of you!
*Flip*
“Lance Stroll, I think this year might be your lucky year, you’ve got a decent size bag with three presents” the presenter says cheerfully making Lance smile back.
“I’m excited to see what’s been brought for me! Okay first one obviously we have to open the card and see the message.
“Dear Lance, Starting as rookies together was so much fun! Beating you was even better! Oh it’s either Y/N or Gasly, we all had our rookie year together in 2017!” He exclaims before pulling out the first present which was another envelope.
“You know this is gonna be a voucher of some kind or like, a this was supposed to be your present but it’s not here. What could it be!” He asks opening it up.
“Tennis lessons … WITH ANDY MURRAY? It’s gotta be Y/N right? They are both from the UK, and I’m guessing someone she knows him? How the hell does she know him?” He laughs, he was really into tennis, if he ever had to quit motorsport he would got to tennis as his secondary option.
“This is amazing, thank you Y/N” he smiles genuinely.
“I think him and Y/N were invited to meet the Queen. She wanted to meet Y/N for breaking records around women in motorsport. They’ve played tennis together and she’s driven him round Aintree in her Lamborghini”
“Woah that’s crazy, so they are like friends? Well thank you Y/N and Andy watch out coz I’m coming for you!” He says as he reaches for the next present which is very badly wrapped.
“I think this just be the joke present she gets alongside her good ones” he says shaking it nothing giving away what it could be. He rips it open, to find a mug and a bottle of maple syrup!
“Ah yes as a true Canadian, maple is necessary! And oh a mug”
“Turn it round Lance, what does it say?” Laughs the presenter not actually knowing this was one of the presents.
“It says Daddies Little Boy” he laughs, knowing the joke in the paddock that he wouldn’t ever loose his seat in F1 until he no longer wanted to race.
“That’s hilarious, thank you Y/N I’ll be sure to show my dad this one. Okay onto the last”
He opens it up seeing a James Bond Limited Edition, signed Car from the movies in a mini form.
“It’s so funny, me and Y/N have arguments about this all the time. So they basically got her in Casino Royale as a stunt driver for one scene as she looks like Eva Green from the back. So she will always say that Casino Royale is the best Bond film, but I disagree I think it’s Quantum of Solace! Thank you Y/N for all of this! I can’t wait for my Tennis lessons!”
2020
“What a year it’s been with this virus Y/N and what a stressful year it has been for you drivers. However you’ve had some amazing drives, you had your first win this year with the new name for Toro Rosso under AlphaTauri! And we couldn’t be happier for you. But, your moving up the ranks aren’t you!” The presenter grins happily.
“Yes as of 2021 I will stay in the Red Bull family but move alongside Max into the Red Bull Racing Honda team!” You exclaim! You were so happy to have been given the chance and had worked your but of last year in AlphaTauri coming P5 in the drivers championship. Christian Horner came to you and offered you the seat as you’d done better in the Tauri than Alex in the Red Bull.
“This is just amazing news for you Y/N and we are excited to see what you can do alongside Max Verstappen in 2021!”
“Okay here are you presents for this year!” She says, you pull your mask up a little as it had dropped down as you were talking it repositioning it up and in the correct way.
“These feel like drinks?” You question as you shake the box, when you peel it down you burst out laughing at the crate of Red Bulls in front of you. Everyone knew you were moving to Red Bull so this could literally be anyone.
“Oh my gosh, and Lego Star Wars! LOOK ITS THE FALCON” you yell excitedly. During COVID, you’d streamed alongside Alex, Charles, Lando and George as you liked playing games already and it was more fun with your friends. But you also did streams where you’d answer questions while building Lego’s.
“Guys, Christmas Falcon building stream??” You ask wiggling your eyebrows, however you didn’t know if they’d be able to see them with the Santa hat currently on top of your head.
“Who did you think it is?” The presenter asks.
“I feel like this one is so hard this year, everyone knows I’m moving to RedBull and everyone knew I streamed, and my love for Star Wars” you sigh, a hand rising up to your face in a thinking motion.
“It’s gotta be someone kind and funny. Lando? NO? hmmmm …Dani Ric again? No? Pierre Gasly? NO? Oh my lord, erm I’m not sure who is it??” You ask genuinely having no clue!
“It was George Russell!” She exclaims and you grin widely!
“Thank you so much George! I really appreciate this and I hope you drop in the steam where I’m building it!”
*Flip*
“Max, what a year it’s been for you! Between some amazing races and coming P3, what can we expect from you in 2021”
“Becoming a world champion for sure, I think Y/N moving over to redbull at this time in my career is exactly what I need. She was giving me a run for my money in a mid field car this year, pushing it to its limits every race and outperforming the car. I think she’s going to be competitive and push me further as both a teammate and a rival. I’m excited to have her on board” he smiles nodding.
“Okay so here’s your presents, they are numbered in the order you have to open them in!” She says pushing them forward.
“Okay present one, oh what is this OMG tickets to Moto GP. Beside F1 that is my favourite sport! And it’s during the summer break, that’s incredible! Thank you so much! There’s two so that means I can take a friend I presume! Can I take the gifter?” He asks looking at the F1 presenter who nods, knowing you most likely wouldn’t turn that down.
“Next one! Oooo woah, this is nice, look at this. This one here is me in, Malaysia I think. My first ever face win! Austria in 2018 is here, you can see the Bulk from the Red Bull Ring, oh and here is I think this must be my win in Brazil last year I want to say? And then Abu Dhabi from this year? That race was only yesterday, how did they… this has to be Y/N I don’t know any other person who is this good at art” he says pointing the painted canvas.
“Okay, this is the last one, so this has to be her joke one right?” He asks looking towards the people.
“Read the note here first, now that you’ve worked out who it is” she smiles pushing the letter forward.
“Dear Max, I can’t wait to drive alongside you next year. Or maybe in front of you, we’ll just have to wait and see. Y/N
“I am very excited to drive with her next season. It’s going to be a very close season with the changes I’m sure will occur” he says as he starts to pull from the bag.
“A Y/N pillow, this will travel with me as a travel pillow! Oh and a Y/N signed red bull cap. You’ll be signing a lot more of these next year, but I’m honoured to get the first ever one!” He smiles nodding before looking at the camera for them to stop rolling.
2021
“Y/N, what an amazing year you’ve had a RedBull, coming in P3 and winner the constructors championship for Red Bull, how has the year been?”
“Yeah it’s been phenomenal, driving with Max has really made me push myself to the limits. I think I’m still warming up in the Red Bull this seasons and I made some mistakes which I’ve been focusing on improving each race and I think you can see that in my performance in the second half of the season. I’m thankful to max for pushing me to be a better driver and I’m excited for 2022 with Red Bull, and Honda!”
“Obviously it’s our favourite time of the year! And we are going to be opening some presents!” She says pushing forward a small box. You grin looking at the very precise and very neat wrapping.
You open the box to find one of those cute adopt a penguin with the little plushie.
“Awww it’s so cute!” You exclaims holding up the little penguin.
“And I think there’s a note in there about something else” the F1 presenter directs.
“Hello Y/N it’s your fav mentor. Join me to meet this penguin on a Antártica cruise! K.R”
“KIMI, KIMI, KIMI! No this is too much!” You say looking at the presenter in panic.
“Your idol wants to go on holiday with you! How do you feel”
“Blessed! I’m so happy! I can’t wait to go see the penguins with you Kimi!” You smile, hugging the penguin plushie close to your chest.
*Flip*
“Lando, you’ve got some large gifts here”
“Yeah it’s Y/N” Lando immediately says looking at the wide array of gifts.
“You haven’t even opened at them yet” she laughs.
“No I know Y/N and she’s the only one that puts THIS extensive effort into this! I’ve nailed it tho saying it’s Y/N” he smirks.
“Okay what have we got here” he says picking up the first which is a thinly wrapped envelope.
“Spa vouchers …” he says before shaking his head trying not to laugh and look mock angry.
“I crash in spa, and this is what I get… thanks Y/N. Oh there’s three vouchers. You can Max Fewtrell can come with me. Oh and some … Valorant lessons? Are you saying I’m bad at Valorant, just because your a sweat and your like Ascendent or some shit!” He grins out.
He grabs the next box, small yet heavy. He opens it seeing McLaren x Richard Mille.
“A watch! Woah this … I’m so happy to add this to my collection!”
“And it’s the only one ever made!” The presenter adds making him gasp and look underneath the watch at the engraving. A blush comes onto his face thanking the girl for the watch.
“Okay big box next!” He grins tearing into it.
“Oh Y/N! Y/N” he says with a hand slapped to his mouth.
“Wait no stop” he says pulling the personalised helmet she made him with a note explaining it was for a good start to 2022.
“Thank you Y/N and I can’t wait to wear this next year it’s amazing!” He smiles showing it to the camera finding more and more funny things to laugh to himself about that were inside jokes between the pair of you.
2022
“Y/N the fight between you Max and Charles was so close this year, and you only were a few points behind Charles in the end, taking a storm of a constructors win for Red Bull, so do think you and Charles will have a chance in 2023”
“Yea of course! I’ve renewed my contract with Red Bull until 2025, so I’m very excited at what it will bring!”
“As usual it’s time for the best part of the season! Secret Santa, let’s see what you’ve got this year!” She directs pushing forward the presents in front.
“A bottle of Sake! This will be from Mr Yuki Tsunoda, a Japanese delicacy that he introduced me to this year at the Grand Prix! Thank you Yuki! We’ll have to drink this together!” You smile before going to the next present.
“Oh my gosh, a Bonsai and new tools! This is perfect for my garden in London! Look I have to show you!” She smiles showing the F1 presenter pictures of her garden going off on a rant of where she could place the new bonsai.
“Thank you so much Yuki! Can’t wait to race with you in 23” you smile at the camera.
*Flip*
“Alex! Hopefully Williams has been treating you well” the interviewer smiles happily.
“It has, I think I got a lot out of the car this year which they can learn from in the future! It’s been a year of learning for all of us and we’re happy with the improvements we made” he smiles.
“Well it’s Secret Santa time. Here are your gifts”
“This first one feels like a shirt” he admits feeling up the packaging. He opens it and unfolds the top laughing at what was on the front putting it down and laughing into his hands.
“Show us what you got Alex” she asks. He holds up the gifted top that’s a picture of you and Lily holding hands walking through the paddock looking at each other loving. Above the picture in writing says ‘this woman stole my girlfriend’.
“Lily will force me to wear this, I know it and she will agree with it and come running to the menace of a Secret Santa that gifted this to me! Thank you Y/N” he smiles charmingly at the camera.
“Okay, up next oh? Private golf lessons, with Lily at Hotchkin Course. It says here’s the course is ours for the whole day! Woah, not only will I appreciate that but Lily will also enjoy that day out! Thank you so so much Y/N as usual you are the best!”
“Hand painted golf balls, oh look so this one has the Thai flag on it, this one has the Williams logo on it, this one has a Lily flower on it, okay that’s cute! Look at this detail” he says holding the ball up close to the camera!
“This is perfect! Thank you Y/N and have an amazing Christmas”
2023
"Y/N you and Max have had an amazing season this year and have dominated formula one in Red Bull. You came P2 in the championship, not too far behind Max who won his 3rd championship!"
"Yes, its been an amazing year for us and I'm hoping that next year it will be me winning the Championship!" you grin looking at the presenter.
"Okay, so its the 7th year of Secret Santa on the grid! Are you excited! Because i am!" she says shoving the small bag towards you. You grin excited.
"Yes, okay so ooooo, I know who this is straight away and I think the fans are going to be really happy over this" you grin after you'd peeled the bag back seeing the first gift that was unwrapped and open for the eye to see.
You pull the object out showing hair bleach, toner and little tools and foils, and a note saying that you'll both dye it together and be matching blondes.
You show the camera, knowing fans will not only go wild for blonde Alex, but wild for you finally going blonde after saying for months that you would.
"This is a great gift, and we are going to get Lily to do this for us together!" you smile, before dipping into the bag and pulling the next gift out.
"Steal my GF coupons! OMG finally thank you Alex, i can finally get MY girlfriend Lily back. Guy's seriously when you next pan to her when she's in the paddock, please caption her as Lily Professional Golfer and Partner of Red Bull Driver Y/N Y/L/N. Please I'm begging you!" she laughs and the presenter writes something down on her phone.
"Thank you Alex for these amazing gifts and I will be sure to use both the coupons and the hair dye!" you grin, observing the contents of the hair dye.
"This is a good brand no? Lily must do a good job" you nod, hoping that Lily knows how to dye hair considering Alex's looked good the last time he had it done.
"Yes, its what they use for most of the KPOP Idols in Korea, you know how they dye their hair lots? This is what they use in order to keep it really nice and smooth"
*FLIP*
"Okay, here we have our all time favrioute Daniel Ricciardo, so happy to have seen you driving for AlphaTauri this year. Hopefully 2024 will be a good season for you and we can get some podiums back up there!" she smiles at Daniel who has his typical huge smile back.
"Thank you, lets get down to the real reason we are here! I want to see the presents whoever this is"
"Okay, so ooo a bike helmet. Hmmmm I've been saying to a few on the grid that i need a new one, but this is a really good brand. Okay next one" he smiles moving the bike helmet to one side.
"Ohhhh what the hell, someone has got me Talladega Nights, but they've photoshopped me into Ricky Bobby's place. Look at this. Did you guys get Jensen Button to join in this year?" he laughs showing the camera, the photoshopped version of the popular film among the drivers.
"That's really funny so i bet its got to be one of the young one. Maybe Lando? Or Y/N? or even Oscar my Aussie brother?" he says observing the disk before placing it against the bike helmet leaving it on show.
"A honey badger plushie... okay this is Y/N Lando no way would get me a plushie thats this cute" he jokes.
"Okay last one, holy shit. Do you know how the hell she managed to pull some of these gifts off?? I swear she's the actual St Nick sometimes!" he says looking at his final present. It was an envelope explaining something that you would do for him.
"So she's booked a venue, for her and Heidi in Milan to do a fashion show of my new clothes line that I’ve made in-front of anyone who wants to attend… that’s so thoughtful. Thank you Y/N I’m sure you and Heidi will look amazing on the runway! Thank you and see you on the track more next year!” He smiles.
Taglist:
@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall@sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1 x you#formula 1#formula one#formula one fanfiction#f1 secret santa#secret Santa formula one#f1 fanfic#charles leclerc#daniel ricciardo#pierre gasly#alex albon#lando norris#romain grosjean#kevin magnussen#max verstappen#oscar piastri f1#oscar piastri#george russell
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Lost In Reality (George Daniel)
warning: drinking, mentions of sex
note: this took me like a week to write. im so lonely wish i had a clingy lovesick george
⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆
r&b music is pumping through the speakers of the club. it’s dark in the vip section where you sit and a bit damp with sweat, everything is.
adam went home early tonight, you all bid your goodbyes and a parting farewell hug to him before he slipped out the door a few hours prior. it’s now nearing midnight and your fresh nail polish is chipped.
you sit alone in the private booth with ross. the two of you are tag-teaming being designated drivers tonight, figuring if you both only get mildly tipsy tonight, you can both be equally responsible enough for your two knuckleheads you’re supervising tonight.
speak of the devil, knuckle head #1 comes waltzing up to the table, looking a little lost, but when his gaze meets yours, he freezes in his spot like he’s just remembered he left his stove on, then squeezes in next to you.
“scooch over, i’m tired,” george whines, spilling onto you over the leather seat and your velvety dress.
you give hime a quick smile, feeling as though it sufficed as a brief greeting to your lover as you continue your conversation with ross. “i saw your dad at the store the other day, it was weird, he recognized me and everything.”
ross chuckles, “what was he buying?”
“i think it might have been like a few apples, maybe a-“
knucklehead #1, however, does not feel quite welcome enough, so he scoots even more into you, hand on the back of your neck, right at the roots of your hair and the other gripping your waist. “hey.”
you pause to stare at him, “hey.”
“and what else?” ross tries through stifled giggles to reanimate your dying conversation. george busies himself placing wet kisses to your neck.
“a carton of orange juice, laundry detergent,” your words are broken apart by george and his suffocating attack to your neck. when he realizes you’ve stopped talking, he uses his grip on your neck to his advantage and pulls you in for a full, smothering kiss. you humor him, not entirely enjoying the taste of tequila on his tongue but bearing it because he’s clearly needing something from you.
he pulls away, surprising that he chose to before you did, and presses his cheek into your chest for a moment, “ross, this is my woman, did you know that.”
“i did, mate.” ross glances back at you repeatedly, making fun of george without even having to say anything. george evidently does not pick up on this one bit.
“and did you know that i love her?”
“mm, it’s news to me. maybe you should let everyone else know, too.” you shoot ross a deathly glare, knowing that he knows how much you hate making a scene and you can tell he’s only joking but the knucklehead didn’t quite pick up on that.
with a cackle, he stands up, much to your horror, clinking a fork onto your glass and pulling you in close to him. you’re mildly freaking out, glad that the music in here is just loud enough that the entire establishment won’t hear this, maybe just the people near.
“everyone! listen up, im sorry. i am in love with this gorgeous woman right here! she is the love of my life! i am going to marry her!”
you swear your heart almost stops as people begin to clap. you try to pull him back down to sit and be out of the public’s eye but he resists. “kiss?” he puckers his lips already and points to them with a finger and you pout at him for only just a moment. you soon realize it’s the sole way to get him to stop, so you cave
you mean for it to be a small peck but he holds you in like he always does, the one thing that never changes about him when he gets drunk like this, pressing his lips messily to yours and holding your head too tightly that it roughs up your hair. you pull away this time, pushing him down to sit in your previous spot in the booth, trapping him in as you sit at the end.
“wow, that was beautiful, george,” ross grins wickedly and you set a mental reminder to shave his eyebrow off in his sleep when you get the chance. he’s a deep sleeper, you might just get away with it
“she deserves it. this woman right here, she single handedly saved my life. i love her. will you go to the bathroom with me?” you don’t even realize the last sentence is towards you until he nudges you with his elbow.
“to do what?” ross raises an eyebrow, wondering why he’s so involved in this conversation that has nothing to do with him.
“so i won’t be lonely.”
with an eye roll, you stand up, holding out both hands to pull your boyfriend up, “come on, big boy.” he laughs at the pet name and it’s not missed by you just how hot he is when he laughs like that, you never do.
he wraps an arm around you and you lead him outside instead of the bathroom, as fun as it sounds to take a piss hand in hand with him, you’d rather get your man home.
he stumbles outside with you, nearly taking you down with him but you steady the both of you with gentle hands on his waist. “hey. you wanna get out of here?”
his sly grin is valuable in your gaze, “any time, baby.”
“i mean, i’m going to take you home, okay?” you realize your second attempt doesn’t sound all that better.
“your place or mine?” he smirks. you decide to just let him have it if it means he’ll agree to leave.
“yours, sweets.”
he calls a cab for you, glad that he remembered how much you suck at doing so.
you snuggle up to him in the backseat while he informs the driver of the address. your rest your head on his strong shoulder and he rests his broad hand on your thigh out of instinct.
“you okay, honey?” everything about him is comforting, from his overwhelming kisses and public proclamations of love to the way that he constantly has the urge to take care of you in any way he can, even when he’s wasted. you almost feel bad about how bad his hangover is going to be tomorrow morning.
“i’m alright, handsome.” adding in the last bit just to mess with him and it works as well as you expect, his cheeks blush and a shy smile breaks upon his face.
“you really think so?” it’s not like him to ask for a bit of reassurance like this so you lean in to kiss his cheek.
“of course. i love you. so much.”
“that’s the first time you’ve said it tonight.”
you kiss his cheek again, “but do you really need me to say it for you to know?”
he smiles warmly, “no.”
⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆
you sent ross a text informing him that you had left and he replied something about how he had assumed so, doubting the pair of you spent a half hour in the bathroom.
you tucked george in with a loving kiss to the forehead and he was passed out asleep before you even climbed in next to him.
it’s now hours later in the late morning, and he was still asleep when you woke, so you decided to set up camp on his couch, mentally double fisting watching supernatural on the tv and reading a book.
it isn’t until 30 minutes of this quiet time alone that george comes slumping in, groggy and tired but awake. he stands in the doorway, looking around in confusion for a moment. “did we fuck last night?”
“no.”
you’re scared he’s going to continue with this, getting into some speech about how you’ll always have his consent, no matter what. it’s something you already know, something you’ve already established with him, but you don’t think you could ever bring yourself to be intimate with him when he isn’t fully present for it.
you know that he’s the same way when it goes for you, that he’d never lay a hand on you if you hadn’t explicitly agreed to it.
he doesn’t, however, and you’re even more grateful when he shuffles to the kitchen and begins to cook breakfast out of habit. you let him be, coexisting with him in the open floor plan of the room, you with your book and your show and him with the food and the stove.
after a good chunk of time, he returns to you, two plates in hand. passing one to you, “careful, love, it’s hot.”
“thank you.” he doesn’t say anything, feeling like he shouldn’t be thanked for simply cooking you breakfast, it seems like the least he can do.
he settles down next to you and your stretch your legs out over his lap, allowing him to rest a hand over your thighs.
you eat in comfortable silence for a moment until he interrupts it. “have you started your period?”
you almost choke, “pardon?”
“has your period started yet?” he doesn’t elaborate any more, likely until you give an answer.
“how did you know?”
he rubs up and down your leg. “i track it for you. cuz i know you always forget to. it also helps me plan our date nights better.”
“why? i mean, thank you, but why?”
he shrugs. “because i care about you.”
you study him over your slice of toast but decide to leave him be. if he chooses to show his love to you in unconventional ways, that’s his decision and you’ll accept his affection in any way you can get it.
once he finishes his plate, he sets it to the side on his coffee table and begins to busy himself with kneading and pawing at your legs. he focuses in on the fleshiest part, your inner thigh and you continue to study him like an creature nearing extinction.
“this is the best part, this right here.”
“of my thigh?” he nods.
“it’s good thigh. prime thigh.”
“ok.”
he sighs now, not loud and dramatic like you do, but a forced exhale. “i’ve got to go to the studio today, my love.”
“so go.”
“i don’t want to leave you. barely seen you this week. finally got you to myself and i’ve got to leave again.”
“i’ll stay here. i’ll be here when you get back and we can hang out some more.”
“is that too much to ask?”
“course not, babe.”
“thank you. i just love the idea of coming home to you. keeps me going. and i hate coming back here after a long day away and being all alone.”
you giggle and poke him with your foot, “god, you’re so obsessed with me.”
“i know, baby, im sorry,” he pushes off your legs and sets your plate to the side, not caring that you hadn’t finished yet. he crawls forward to lay between your legs and rest his head on your sternum.
“don’t be.”
⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆
taglist: @itssimpleanditgoeslikethis @indierockgirrl @milkluvr8 @americanangel @butyou-callmewhenyourebored
#the 1975#george daniel fanfic#george daniel x reader#george daniel fluff#george daniel smut#george daniel fic#george daniel fanfiction#george daniel the 1975#george daniel#georgedaniel#george daniel 1975#the 1975 self titled#the 1975 fanfiction#1975#the 1975 fanfic#the 1975 fic
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Charles Leclerc - Arthur, you are not French...yeah Charles, drag his ass!
I’ve been excited to write this chapter! I know that reader is a Red Bull driver, but I am a Tifosi through and through. Charles holds such a special place in my heart (but so does Max). I feel like one of those “breaking my silence – how I got into F1,” low and behold, I got into the sport from that one Ferrari thirst trap where Charles is lying on the couch. Yeah, you know, that one.
Anywho, I write these little things before I even get to writing the story and sometimes I don’t even know where I’m going with it. I know it's not Christmas yet, but the people spoke - SO HERE WE GO!
Sadly, the tag list is closed to do us reaching the 50 people mark! I never thought that I’d get there though with my story! So thank you to every one of you for making that happen!
Like always, comments, questions, concerns, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated! Love you all <;3
Your beanie had started to itch. You had needed it outside due to the cold weather, but now that you were in the car with the heat cranked, it was starting to get a little too warm. As you pulled up to the red light, your hand quickly yanked the hat off. Not to your surprise, your hair was sticking in all directions. That’s ok, you could fix it before you walked into the house. The light turned green, and you had to remind yourself that this was a regular car, on a regular street. Not a hybrid-engine-ran rocket ship that exceeded 300 kilometers per hour on sweet Grand Prix asphalt.
This year, you had finally accepted Arthur’s invitation for Christmas. Earlier, you had done Christmas morning and afternoon with Max, Kelly, and Penelope. It was everything you could have wished for. And now you were going to spend the rest of the evening with your best friend and his family. You were a tab bit nervous. Sure, you had met them on a handful of occasions, but you tried not to get too close. They were always at grand prixes for Arthur, not you.
You glanced at the presents that were stacked on the passenger side. The most important one, however, was placed in a bag on the floor. You were not about to let that fall over and possibly break. You knew it was made to be sturdy, but you couldn’t be sure. Arthur had given you the gate key. You pulled up to the little black box and pressed the numbers. You rolled your eyes as you realized that it was just Charles’s and Arthur’s racing numbers squished together.
Arthur had also reminded you that Lorenzo was not going to be joining due to him being at his wife’s family’s for the holiday. That was one less person to impress you had told yourself.
You pulled into their driveway and parked your car. It was not as impressive at Charles’s custom 488 Ferrari Pista Spider. It wasn’t as if you were almost drooling at the sight of it. Knowing yourself, you’d probably be too scared to drive it to actually enjoy it. Max also had a Ferrari, maybe he’d let you drive it.
In a parking lot and not exceeding 5 kph. You snorted. Yep, that was Max.
You did however, have your eye on two special cars. But you wanted to wait a bit before purchasing. You Pinterest board was full of different ideas, but you had to be careful. Maybe Christian could help you out with purchasing. You technically hadn’t bought this car, it was a gift from Lorenzo. You wouldn’t trade it for the world, but it might be nice to have more than one car. Besides, multiple drivers had multiple cars. You’d just join their ranks.
Juggling the presents, you walked to the front door and pressed the doorbell. Your face was hardly visible over the tops of the boxes. The door opened and a familiar voice sounded.
“Mon Dieu, let me help you.” Presents were being taken from the big stack.
“Thank you Charles.” You prided yourself on being one of the few people who could recognize the difference between Arthur’s and Charles’s voices. He didn’t reply as he took the presents farther into the house. You followed him through the door and toed off your shoes. Your eyes caught all the lights and decorations in the house. Growing up, you didn’t have such things. Your family always said that being in karting was always going to be your present. Nothing more, nothing less. There were no cookies for Santa and no tree to decorate.
As you walked more into the warm house, the decorations just kept getting better. Where Max’s house was decorated by Kelly who like a clean Christmas aesthetic, the Leclerc household leaned towards the warmer decorations. The lights didn’t necessarily match and flickered colorful light. The stockings weren’t the same color: they showed personality that matched their owner. Even the ornaments weren’t all from the same container. You found Charles staring down at the presents that he had taken from you.
“Who are these for?” he turned his head to look at you.
You snorted, “They’re for your family.” His eyes widened as he rubbed his chin.
“You didn’t have to.”
You only shrugged as you began to take off your coat, “I felt like I did. You all have been so kind to invite me here on a holiday that I couldn’t come empty handed.” Charles gestured for your jacket and you gave it to him.
“You can look around some more if you’d like to. Arthur and maman will be back from the store soon.” Your cheeks heated at the thought of him catching you ogling at his home. You shook the thought away and looked at everything a little bit closer.
Like all homes seemed to have, there was a wall filled with picture frames. Some were of each child; some had the full family. It was nice to see all 5 of them together in the center one. You cocked you head at one of them though. You all but tiptoed to get a closer look. It was one of Charles and Arthur, and then an unfamiliar but familiar man stood between them.
“That’s Jules. If you were wondering.”
You jumped in place, not noticed that he had snuck up behind you. You looked over and saw that a sad smile had graced his face. Arthur had told you little about him. Charles and Lorenzo would always have been much closer to him.
“I met him once. During karting,” you trailed off. Charles raised his eyebrows.
“Really?” It seemed as though the breath had been knocked out of him.
You gave him a comforting smile, “Yeah. My race was right after yours. I think it was back in 2010,” you looked back at the picture, “and you won that day. I watched him cheer for you like he was the proudest person there that day. He was in a racing suit and had a helmet. I thought that he had come straight from a race or something. But, I only remember wishing that I had someone there for me like you had.”
Charles now had a guess as to what day that was. He vaguely remembered finally beating Max and feeling so happy. But, he didn’t remember Jules having a helmet. He took the picture down so that the two of you could look closer. It was definitely not taken the day that you were talking about, but the way you talked about him intrigued Charles. He gave you a head nod, silently saying to continue.
“That day, I also won my race. It hadn’t been the easiest, but the boys were too busy pushing each other off that they didn’t even notice me. I was able to overtake and win. The boys though, weren’t the only ones who didn’t notice. My parents weren’t around when I looked for them. I must have turned around so many times, just trying to find them, but I never did. I had taken my kart back to my station when someone tapped me on the shoulder. He scared the ever-loving crap out of me, but he held my shoulder and told me that I did a great job.”
Your eyes were slightly watering at the confession. Charles just continued to look at you.
“I knew who he was. He was the man who always cheered for the Justin Bieber look-a-like who liked to push a certain Dutchman off the track, into a puddle, and claim it was just an inchident.” Charles snorted.
“I did not look like Justin Bieber.”
“Whatever floats your boat.” He gave you a look. “American expression. Anyway, after he said that he gave me a hug before my dad came stomping over, complaining about something, I don’t even remember. But all I know is that he made my entire day. My godfather wasn’t able to visit that much or come see me race. So, it was nice to have someone in my corner, even if they weren’t truly there for me.”
Charles hung the picture back on the wall. The two of you stood there for a quiet moment before Charles spoke up. “How’s your godfather?”
You inhaled sharply. “He died in 2020. Caught some illness in 2018 and wasn’t able to recover.”
It broke Charles’s heart to hear you talk about it so nonchalantly.
“Does Arthur know?”
You nodded your head. “He caught me crying the first year of his anniversary. Made me spill the beans about what happened. He thought he needed to go beat someone up.” You let out a wet chuckle. When did you even start crying? Looking at Charles, you saw that he was crying too. You continued, “Lorenzo, he, uh, died the day before I debuted in F2.”
Memories hit Charles like an 18-wheeler. That was you? He remembered that most of the F1 drivers had been invited since the F1 and F2 races were so close together. Hell, even Max was given the opportunity to give the winner the trophy. He remembers watching you dominate that race. He watched you offer that trophy to the sky. He saw a hunger that he hadn’t seen in a long time.
He finally spoke up, “You were incredible.”
“Thank you,” you paused before adding, “he’d be proud of you. Jules, I mean.” You looked back at the picture and how it seemed right at home amongst the others.
“Lorenzo would be proud of you as well.” You flashed him a grateful smile, full of teeth. He mirrored, dimples prominent.
You threw your head back and laughed. Charles cocked his head.
“What’s the matter?” he barely got out as he began to laugh as well.
You poked his cheeks, “You and Thur have the same dimples.” Charles rolled his eyes and ruffled your hair. You pouted. “Rude.”
He was about to reciprocate but the sound of the door opening caught the two of yours attention. Charles quickly pushed you into a dark room. You gave him a confused look before he put a finger to his lips. You smirked back and stayed silent.
Pascale walked in first followed by Arthur. Charles greeted his mother and then brother.
“I saw Y/n’s car in the driveway. Where is she?” Arthur looked around the house.
“She went to the bathroom, but hasn’t come back. I think I scared her off,” Charles faked a sad look.
Arthur flashed a comforting smile to his brother. “I’ll go find her. Hopefully she didn’t fall in or something.” That almost made you laugh.
Arthur flipped on the lights to the hallway. This was your chance. He barely got past the doorframe before you jumped out onto him.
His squeal echoed through the room, laughter following it. In your grand scheme, you had accidentally fallen on top of him. Your giggles continued as Arthur tried to push you off. He finally gave up after a few moments. You knew you probably looked ridiculous, but honestly you didn’t care. You swear you heard a click of a camera, but you disregarded it.
“Are you done?” Arthur sarcastically asked.
“No, I’m actually quite comfortable. Thank you for asking though,” you smirked. After a few more moments later, Arthur quickly rolled you off and got up. You let out a huff before making grabby hands at him. He rolled his eyes and pulled you up.
You were finally able to greet Pascale. She brought you into a hug and did the two kisses. You reciprocated. It came naturally after being teammates with Arthur for so long. You smiled at the memory of him doing it to you for the first time. He was so embarrassed after until you calmed him down enough to say that you didn’t mind. You knew it was a part of his culture and that he shouldn’t feel embarrassed to do so.
“Thank you for inviting me.” You shot her a shy smile. She rubbed your back before exiting the hug.
“There is no need for thanks. Arthur has been begging for years.” A noise of protest rang through the air.
“I have not.”
“Non, it’s true. He has.” Charles looked at his brother. Arthur had a look of betrayal that sent you spiraling into another laughing fit.
By the time you were finished, Arthur gave you a look.
“Where’s you Christmas sweater?” You looked down at the one you were wearing. You thought it looked just fine. It was a nice dark green and Kelly had complimented you many times.
“I thought this looked nice?” You were beginning to doubt. Maybe you couldn’t do this Christmas thing.
Arthur shook his head before disappearing down a hallway.
You glanced at Charles and whispered, “I ruined it didn’t I?” You looked down at your feet.
“Non gosse, you didn’t ruin anything. Just look.” You looked back up and saw that Arthur now had another sweater in his hands. (translation : no kid)
“I can’t believe I forgot to give you this. Sorry Y/n, we normally wear ‘ugly’ Christmas sweaters to celebrate. The one you have on is fine, but this is the Leclerc celebration now.” He all but shoved you towards a bathroom so that you could change. You slipped the other dark green sweater on after you took off your first one.
The front made you laugh. It wasn’t ugly per say, Arthur must have toned it down for you. On the front was the Grinch. It was actually kind of cute if you thought about it. You folded your first sweater and walked out. Now you noticed that Charles’s had a bright orange sweater with a gamer Santa on it; Arthur’s actually lit up; and Pascale had a cute one with a reindeer on it.
When he noticed your return, Arthur’s arms shot up. “Now you look festive!”
“How long did it take you to find that one TurTur?” You motioned your finger up and down, pointed at his sweater.
His arms crossed protectively around it as he let his jaw hang. “I’ll have you know that this is imported.”
You gave him a bombastic side eye. “Sure.”
Pascale clapped her hands, “Picture time by the tree!”
You kind of awkwardly stood there as she took pictures of the two boys. You warmly smiled as she gushed over the two of them. You made your way to the kitchen and picked up two bottles. Were these alcoholic? You squinted at the label.
“Y/n!” You froze and looked at the family of three. Arthur was snickering.
“You know you’re not allowed to drink yet.” You rolled your eyes.
Charles shot you a mischievous smile. “Gosse, come, we’ll send a picture to old Maxy. Maybe give him a heart attack.”
You smirked back as you walked with the two bottles. You posed in front of the tree with the glasses on either side of you. The four of you laughed as you set them down. You wanted to make a run for it, as to not ruin the pictures, but Pascale insisted that she wanted one of the three of you.
Your heart swelled as she took a picture of you in the middle of Arthur and Charles. She also insisted to get one of just you and Arthur. Your cheeks heated as you caught her muttering about a picture to show your kids one day. You only hoped that Arthur hadn’t heard.
He did and his heart soared at the thought.
Once the pictures were done, everyone was able to have a few snacks and drinks, yours of course being non-alcoholic.
Then it was time for the presents. The thing you were worried about the most. You soon found yourself seated on the floor in a half circle. Pascale was the only one in a chair, but you didn’t blame her. The boys were the ones to pass out the presents. To your surprise, you had received three presents. Your eyes wanted to water, but you blinked the tears away.
They all opened the ones from you first.
Arthur lit up like a Christmas tree (pun intended) when he saw what you had gotten him. The two of you had been shopping earlier in the year, when you had come across a watch shop. Arthur had wanted to buy a specific one, but was heartbroken when they said that they were sold out. But, while Arthur was having a crisis about it, you secretly asked to be put on the waitlist. They had said that they couldn’t be 100 percent that you’d get one, but there was no harm in asking.
Surprisingly, when you got back for a small break, there was a package from the store waiting for you. You had also taken it to another watch store to have something added.
“Turn it over,” you whispered, scared of his next reaction. He inhaled sharply at what the engraving read.
January 25, 2020 – Best Friends for the Rest of Our Live, Keep at it TurTur!
Arthur quickly clamored over to you and wrapped you in a deep hug. Again, you heard the sound of a camera, but dismissed it.
Next Charles opened his. It wasn’t as sentimental as Arthur’s but you tried your best. Before hand, you had asked what type of jewelry Charles likes. You knew he was a ring and bracelet guy, but had rarely seen him with a necklace. So, you got him a simple one that he could wear with any outfit.
He thanked you with a warm smile.
Pascale was very happy with hers. Knowing that she had a hair salon, you googled many gift ideas for her. But every sing one of them to come up was always a pair of scissors. Wanting to do better, you did some more digging. Finally, you decided on one of those fancy circle vacuums that moves by itself. You knew how your back hurt after sweeping up a floor. You couldn’t imagine how her’s might feel. She also gave you a hug.
Now it was your turn.
The first present was from Arthur and it had you in tears. There in a rectangular box was a new pair of Lightning McQueen crocs.
“You know this is like my third pair right?”
He only nodded, “Yes, but are those pairs signed by Lightning McQueen himself?” Your eyes bulged as you turned them over.
You were expecting Owen Wilson’s signature, but when you read it, you laughed even harder. There on the bottom, in fancy script, was Charles’s signature. You looked over at Charles as you wiped your eyes.
“I’m honored sir.”
Charles rolled his eyes, and touched his heart, as to accept the thanks. His present wasn’t as funny, but it was appreciated. You guessed that Arthur had told him what your favorite restaurant was because his gift was a hefty gift card. Your eyes widened when you saw the total.
Pascale’s was very sentimental though. In her present were multiple pictures in frames. Some you noticed that she must have gotten from the internet or had Arthur reach out to Vito. The one that made you tear up was one of the last pictures taken of you and Lorenzo. Your smile was so bright as you held you trophy. You were looking into the camera, but Lorenzo was looking and smiling down at you. Your fingers traced his face.
You placed the pictures down and brought her into a giant hug. After you were done, you wiped your eyes, overcome with emotion. Arthur clapped his hands to bring everyone’s attention to him. You almost jumped out of your skin.
“All right, party time!” He raised his arms and started to walk toward the kitchen.
Your eyes widened as you remembered something. “Wait!”
The three of them stared at you. You inhaled.
“I have one more thing. For all three of you.” They looked at you with a puzzled look. You walked over to the counter where you had placed the black bag that you came with. You gestured for them to come over.
Arthur cocked his head, “Y/n, why’d you bring a helmet bag? We swapped helmets already.” His accent got thicker as he got more confused.
You shook your head slightly as you let out a shaky exhale. You carefully started to unzip the bag. It was true, what Arthur said. The contents were a helmet.
“Gosse, is this your new helmet for next year? It’s very outdated and I don’t think this is safe, ” Charles questioned, confused as to why you’d bring a helmet to Christmas.
However, Pascale let out a gasp as her eyes danced over the helmet, now in your hands. She put her hands to her mouth. She had recognized it immediately.
“Is this?” The rest of the question went unsaid, but you knew what she was going to say. You nodded you head and handed it to her. She turned it around, expecting all the angles. She let out a wet laugh as she carefully and slowly handed it over to Charles. Arthur stood close, looking at it as well.
“Arthur, before you got here, I was telling Charles of how I was able to meet your godfather,” you started. “And I wanted to tell you how thankful I was for his encouragement. I knew that he had come straight from a race, because he was still wearing his suit and he carried a helmet.”
Charles made a confused face, “But he didn’t have a helmet. His hands were both empty, because he caught Arthur when he ran over to him after he showed up.” You could tell that his mind was trying to connect the dots.
“Well. He wouldn’t have had the helmet,” you trailed off. Arthur’s head shot up.
“Because he gave it to you,” Arthur finished. Charles inhaled sharply as he looked over the protective gear in his hands.
Pascale had come close to you, a hand around your shoulder that rubbed up and down, trying to give some comfort.
The two boys looked as if they were going to cry. Charles let Arthur hold it.
“How? Why?” Charles questioned, tears threatening to fall.
“Well, I thought it had gotten destroyed or thrown away. I left it at my parent’s house, and when I told them I was moving out for reasons, they didn’t react well.” You didn’t want to give too much away. “I was sure that they were going to burn all of my things. But, I went back to see just in case. I was mostly correct; except they didn’t touch my closet. It was hiding in the back behind some clothes.” You remembered crying when you found it, holding it close for comfort. It had been one of the few things that you took from the house back to your apartment in Nice.
“I also wanted to bring it back, where it belongs.”
Charles glanced at you and then the helmet between Arthur’s fingers. “But, he gave it to you. You need to keep it.”
You shook your head. “Jules told me to keep it safe and to hold onto it for safe keeping. I always thought that I’d be able to give it back to him one day. I guess this is the closest thing I can do.”
Arthur gave the helmet back to his brother and walked over to you. You looked into his big blue eyes, filled with tears. Unable to hold back, he tucked his face into your neck, holding you tight. You squeezed your eyes closed, tears falling down your cheeks.
You knew that Arthur always felt bad about not being as close to his godfather, like Charles and Lorenzo had been. He had been 15 when Jules died, and you always wished that the family had had more time with him. Pressure was added on your other side. Looking over slightly, your eyes caught sight of Charles’s brown hair. You managed to put your other arm around him. You held the two brothers close, your heart melting.
Is this what a family is supposed to feel like?
Max’s family was a different dynamic. Yes, they enjoyed hugs and being close, but it wasn’t like this where you could hold each other for hours. Well, maybe Max would let you, he was so overdue for a giant group hug.
Arthur couldn’t get over the fact that you were so close. He hoped that you didn’t hear his heart racing. He’s waited this long; he can wait a little longer. His tears had dried up, but he never wanted to let you go. Your heart was too big and too fragile for anyone else to have it. But here you were, opening it up to his family. He couldn’t have asked for someone better to hold your place in his heart. He could only dream that you held him close to your heart, as he did with you to his.
You would never tell him, but you did.
Charles on the other hand could not stop the tears. He wondered how long you had waited. Shy, quiet you. Before this, he had seen you a couple of times before with Max at the beginning of the break. He’d often run into the two of you shopping or getting groceries. You’d always find a way to give a small wave, before turning to do something else while Max talked to him. He wondered what was so special about you. Max, in all his life, had never looked at something as he looked at you. It was different than the way he looked at Kelly. Heck, he even looked a Penelope differently. Charles had rolled his eyes a few more times than he’d like to admit whenever Arthur would bring you up in conversation. But now, as you tried to comfort him and his brother, he finally understood. You were the family that they were missing.
Pascale watched as the three of you broke your little hug. Smiles adorned your faces as you held the other close. She wished Lorenzo would have been here to meet you. She had a feeling that he and Charlotte would like you, as her other two sons did.
Their little celebration started moments after, the helmet at the center. Your smile never left your face for the rest of the night. You were sad that they didn’t let you sneak in one sip of the bottled drink.
“It’s probably not even good,” you told them as you took a sip of your drink.
“Y/n it is good. We French know what good alcohol is,” he took a sip. You raised an eyebrow and smirked as you saw Charles gawk at him.
“Arthur, you are not French,” you watched as Charles put an arm around Arthur’s neck. You were quick to grab his drink so it wouldn���t stain the carpet. “Yeah Charles, drag his ass!”
Arthur held out a hand, dramatically going down. “My best friend betraying me for my brother. Could this day get any worse?”
“Charles, you should have heard all the times he said that he was French when we would do videos.” You smirked evilly at the two.
“Y/n! You weren’t supposed to tell him!”
“Arthur, how many times to I have to tell you? WE ARE NOT FRENCH, WE ARE MONAGUESQE!!
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#charles leclerc x reader#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 x driver!reader#max verstappen x reader#platonic grid x reader#arthur leclerc x reader#carlos sainz x reader#formula 1 x you#lando norris x reader#oscar piastri x reader#logan sargeant x reader#alex albon x reader#george russell x reader#lewis hamilton x reader#daniel riccardo x reader#fernando alonso x reader#f1 fanfic#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 x y/n#formula 1 x female reader#formula one x reader#formula one imagine#f1 x you
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❨ football masterlist ❩
𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐗
𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒
𝐅𝟏 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐃
𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐙
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐂
𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐎
𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐒
𝐋𝐄𝐖𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐎𝐍
𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓
𝐌𝐀𝐗 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐍
𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑
𝐎𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑 𝐏𝐈𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈
𝐓𝐎𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅𝐅
𝐘𝐔𝐊𝐈 𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐃𝐀
𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒
#꒰꒰ ‧₊˚📁 ─ my masterlist ˚₊· ꒱꒱#f1 x reader#formula one x reader#formula 1 x reader#lewis hamilton x reader#george russell x reader#max verstappen x reader#daniel ricciardo x reader#lando norris x reader#oscar piastri x reader#zhou guanyu x reader#alex albon x reader#charles leclerc x reader#carlos sainz x reader#esteban ocon x reader#lance stroll x reader#mick schumacher x reader#nyck de vries x reader#pierre gasly x reader#toto wolff x reader#sebastian vettel x reader#yuki tsunoda x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1#f1 fandom#f1 social media au#f1 x male reader#f1 x female reader
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