#george daniel imagine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alovesreading · 6 months

Text

Nice Kind Of Messy

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

Word Count: 16.7k

Warnings: smut.

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

Masterlist

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“George, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But despite your words, he stops.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So fucking sweet. He needed more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m fucking you now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckles smugly, “I know you will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

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

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

259 notes · View notes

butyou-callmewhenyourebored · 8 months

Text

The 1975 Fic Recommendations

Hi my darlings! You've all shown me all so much love for my Matty & Ross pieces that I've written so far! I am working on new stuff currently I'm just a very big procrastinator! Sorry!

But I just want to pass on and share the love with some of my fave pieces that I've read, for you all to enjoy too x

All links straight to the fics are below too! xo

Matty

Ruins by @yourtouchismidas

Chicken Shop Date by @imagine-that-100 & @alovesreading

Insufferable Arsehole by @tillthelandslide

At Their Very Best & A Theatrical Performance of an Intimate Moment by @lastnightwaskindofablur

Soft Sound by @byyourside28

Show Me Yours by @maxverstappensflatbrim

Who can say no to Bridezilla by @heyidkyay

An Encounter by @because-she-goes

Can't Catch a Break by @procrastinatinglikeapro

Haunt by @abiiors

Nothing Revealed in a Common Crisis (Matty & Alex Turner Love triangle) by @imagine-that-100

George

With a Sea View by @cowboylor

All is on my Side (Part 2) by @imagine-that-100

I guess I'll take this pain, instead of your name by @heyidkyay

Dress (Part 2) by @kennedy-brooke

Three's a Party (with Ross) by @abiiors

Ross

Meet Cute by @cowboylor

Quarter Past Midnight by @alovesreading

You are in Love by @hypersonic04

Ross Series by @hypersonic04

Wear My Name Around Your Neck (with George) by @procrastinatinglikeapro

Same for You by @tillthelandslide

All of the Ross x Teacher pieces by @hypersonic04

Begging for Trouble by @procrastinatinglikeapro

History and Drama (Part 2) by @writingchalamet

Thank you all for taking the time and effort it takes to plan and write out this wonderful stuff for us! If any of you have anymore you've read that you've liked, please send them my way! x

p.s if you see something you like on here please come send me a message so we can discuss and fangirl over it together! Love to you all x

#the 1975 imagine #the 1975 fic #the 1975 #matty healy imagine #matty healy fic #george daniel imagine #george daniel fic #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald fic #adam hann imagine #adam hann fic #the 1975 x reader #matty healy x reader #george daniel x reader #ross macdonald x reader #adam hann x reader

351 notes · View notes

cowboylor · 1 year

Text

cabin fever

the studio begins to feel small with george and matty.

wc: 4k

warnings: (18+) smut, oral (m. receiving), unprotected sex, threesome, voyeurism, degradation, thigh riding, teasing, smoking, consensual workplace relations? (matty and reader have an implied situationship)

note: this is only what i can describe as a doozy

You’ve asked Matty three times already if he wanted you to go on another coffee run and he’s dismissively waved you off with a grumble each time. This leaves you with no choice but to perch on the edge of the couch, picking your nails and listening to the same demo blast through the speakers for the past three hours.

Matty’s brow furrows. “Play it back.”

George sighs but relents by pressing the playback button.

He runs his hands over his face, muttering, “’s not like it changed from the last ten times we’ve listened to it.”

Huffing, you shift in your seat.

You’re past trying to get comfortable and past the hopeful idea you could rest your eyes until they’ve finished editing. The repeated track gives you a headache and only reinstates the thought that you really don’t know what else Matty needs you here for.

Sparing him a glance, you watch him mouth along to both lyrics and rhythm, tapping his fingers against the desk as he searches for anything he dislikes about the track.

You lean back. This day really should be over.

Daydreaming about a shower and your freshly-washed duvet cover has been the only thing keeping you sane throughout the day. Your errand running has proved to be your least favorite thing about being his assistant but the most needed thing when it came to perfectionist musicians.

You glance outside the hallway to see the darkening window. You have to be the only three left in the studio. Every other member of their congregation has gone home by now.

Matty and George have a hushed conversation five feet away from you. Their secrecy has you rolling your eyes.

You pick and rub your eyes.

“I think we’re in for it,” George says finally, fidgeting with one of the many buttons across the set up until the song is paused.

You perk up. “I’ll get coffee.”

“Don’t need you to get coffee,” Matty huffs at your constant insistence. You’re moving to grab your keys and bag anyway when he turns his chair to look at you. “I need you here.”

You meet his stare blankly, clutching your keys in your hand as he scolds you. George turns to eye both of of you, then shoots you a pointed look as if to say Don’t push it.

“Why?” You groan.

Matty lights a cigarette and waves it in his hand for effect. “Unbiased opinion, secondary source, untrained ear–” You don’t give him the smile he’s looking for. “–my muse.”

You chuckle sardonically, repeating his words syllable by syllable, “My muse.”

He exhales smoke, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards as you also fight off an amused grin. He looks handsome like this; with his under eyes slightly drawn out and his hair free of gel. You would’ve told him so if not George being in the room.

“Exactly, love.” He nods.

You want to argue that you can’t be his muse or unbiased opinion; you work for him. Your paychecks have his full legal name scribbled at the bottom of the slip. You get him coffee and equipment and pick up his dry cleaning on days he just wants to spite you. But you don't say this–you just watch him watch you.

Turning back, George shakes his head. “Christ.”

You sigh as they both become preoccupied with the soundboard again. In metaphorically defeat, you drop your purse back on the couch.

The untrustworthy coffee machine is your safe haven. You would rather venture into the break room of the studio, under the flickering lights and all, than sit in solitude and listen to Matty and George mess about for another minute. Dragging your feet to the counter, you begin to make a pot. If anything, the coffee-making is for your sanity.

While flicking on the power button, you go over grocery lists, bills, and the dinner reservation you need to cancel for Matty tomorrow.

You watch the dingy pot begin to fill right as the door to the break room creaks open.

You whip around to see George.

You raise your brow at his uncharacteristic leave. “Hi?”

He wanders into the break room like he’s unsure of himself. His grey sweats hang from his hips and you can make out a flash of skin from when he stretches his arms and his hoodie rides up because of it.

Your face warms.

George looks good. George looks really good.

“I was going to piss,” He says like he's explaining his departure from the studio. “Then I saw you.”

“Ah,” You rub your hands over your eyes in a half-hearted attempt to stop your gaze from wandering down to his waistband. “Piss break.”

He laughs and then glances at the brewing pot. His brow furrows: “Fulfilling your unsolicited desire to get coffee?”

“Can’t help it,” You mutter, agitated and sore. “It’s like I have fucking cabin fever or something.”

He nods but then eyes you carefully. You suddenly grow self-conscious over your appearance. Your makeup is bound to be smeared by your constant rubbing and you would say you’re in desperate need of an everything shower, but his eyes still skirt over you slowly–like he’s unapologetically checking you out.

Then he glances at his watch and you can breathe again.

“Maybe you should go home,” He says sympathetically in a way that has you shaking your head. Then in reference to Matty adds, “He’ll get over it.”

“Not at this point,” You huff a laugh, craning your neck to stare up at him directly. “I’m no quitter, George.”

A brief pause.

His eyes give you the up-down again. “I believe it.”

Coffee filters loudly to make up the silence between the two of you.

“Well,” You say, switching off the machine and gathering three cups in hopes of looking busy. “I hope you have a great piss.”

He chuckles wryly. “I’ll try my best.”

You shake your head when he leaves, pouring questionable brew into styrofoam cups and muttering a string of “Fuck me”’s.

The coffee was left untouched by Matty and you know he’s purposefully ignoring it just to irritate you. George takes occasional sips from the small cup if only to humor you.

Your eyes are closed by this point; listening to every word, pitch, and musical texture there is drone from the speakers of this godforsaken studio.

“Shit,” Matty curses after the demo nears an end. “Let’s scrap it–Deal with it later.”

“Later is now.” George bites back.

You hear a click and the track falls silent.

“Then, fuck,” Matty’s frustrated laugh rings out. “I don’t know. Maybe we need to try something new.”

For a moment, there’s silence in the room. Pure, unfiltered silence that makes your chest swell with satisfaction and gives your budding headache momentarily relief.

Wait.

Your brow quirks up in confusion. Raising your head from the cushion you open your eyes slowly. When you see the joints in their hands, you roll your eyes so far back it aches.

“You’re joking,” You mumble, tucking your knees to your chest as you nestle further into the couch. “I’ll never get to leave.”

“It’s called the creative process, love,” Matty quips without turning around.

George stretches to pass you the poorly rolled blunt. “Don’t want you to feel left out.”

You accept it begrudgingly, pouting at his slightly facetious expression until he swivels back to the soundboard and you’re left blinking dully at their backs. You lightly suck air through it and then rest your head on the back cushion.

The demo is being played over again and they bicker when it comes to the last section of notes.

Another puff. You’re going stir-crazy.

You watch the clock on the wall until your eyes burn and the ticking begins to sound like the song that’s being blasted through the speakers.

“The hell am I doing,” You mumble to yourself. You brush your wrinkled clothes down and fix your hair before clearing your throat. “Can I do something other than watch you roll joints and bicker? Be helpful?”

They turn to eye you carefully, finally acknowledging your frustration.

The corners of Matty’s mouth fight to twist into a smile and you glower at him–always taking the piss out of you when you get like this.

“What?” You snap.

“Wanna be helpful?” Matty asks.

George glances over, saying his name as a warning for whatever he might say next. Matty doesn’t acknowledge it, still looking you up and down with a familiar glint in his eye.

He chuckles, “I know how you can be helpful.”

You grow silent, eyes narrowing and flicking between the two, feeling like you’re being left out on a joke.

George sighs and shakes his head. “God, you’re a twat.”

“How?” You question, still mildly confused about what exactly he’s implying.

Because he couldn’t be implying that. And if he even is, you’ve never done anything in the studio. With someone like George there. You’re disbelieving; you want to draw it out of him, make him say it. “How can I?”

Matty taps his right thigh. “Take a seat.”

He absolutely could be implying that.

Your jaw hangs open for a second.

But then, wanting to spite and wipe the shit-eating grin off his face, you wander over to him. Plunking down on his thigh, Matty spins you back into his chair, pressing you against the desk and his chest while he goes back to fiddling with buttons like this isn’t out of the ordinary.

Straddling your employer’s thigh definitely violates all codes of ethics. But none of them feel as entertaining as sitting in Matty's lap.

You try to share a look with George from beside you but he avoids your eyes, instead muttering, “Let’s get back to it, then.”

You’re flushed against Matty by the time they’ve moved on from the last demo. Now, they’ve moved onto the particulars and you’re growing a different type of frustrated.

When Matty talks his breath courses down your neck and makes you feel warm in every way possible. You’re fighting the urge to nestle into him, bury yourself in his neck and be closer to him–until your face grows unbearably warm and you become embarrassed about how just sitting on his lap is drives to this point.

Because this is all a game to him. And you play into it perfectly every time he beckons you.

But George–

George can’t even look at you while you’re on top of Matty; avoiding your eyes altogether and talking brashly to his bandmate like you’re not even there. And you can’t help but subconsciously long for his attention again. Whatever that looked like before–however he was looking at you in the break room.

Matty brushes his hand behind your neck before tsking: “It’s rude to stare, you know.”

You avert your eyes from George.

“While you’re in my lap, too,” He scolds quietly.

He chuckles at the reaction, making shivers travel down your body.

You shift on his thigh, your body growing intolerant of the compromising position he has you in. You grab onto his arm that holds you at the waist, dragging your nails across his forearm.

“I’m still your favorite,” His lips find the crest of your ear again to murmur. “Right, babe?”

You bite your lip to silence a whine as his fingers toy with the hem of your skirt. Watching his fingers go lower until your mind starts to cloud.

“You–” You breathe out sharply, brow furrowing as you struggle to not yell at him. “–were never my favorite.”

His laugh even sends chills down your spine and you lean into him, pressing yourself against him in an effort to get any relief for the pooling heat in your stomach.

“Stop fucking around,” George mumbles more to Matty than to you.

You watch him fiddle with the amp set up beside the desk; you can’t tell if he’s actually unhappy with the sound system they’ve been using for the past ten hours with no complaint or if he’s looking for any reason not to look at you.

“I’m completely present,” Matty insists, removing his arm from your waist to make an example of being hands-free. “But she can’t help it; I think she has a crush on you.”

You sit up straight at the accusation but find that you have no reason to be embarrassed because Matty’s right–you are in another man’s lap. He toys with the tip of your chin as you do your best to sneer at him.

George glances at you quickly and your cheeks burn.

“Matt,” He sighs. “Don’t be a dick.”

“’m serious,” Matty defends, looking at your poker face expression you hope comes across as disinterested. You may be sitting in his lap but you’re unbothered by all of it. You’re cool, you’re collected, and you definitely won’t give him the reaction he’s looking for– “Bet she thinks about you fucking her all the time.”

Fuck him. Absolutely fuck him.

You shift your hips at the thought and roll them against his thigh. His expression remains the same. If not for a sly smirk at your physical reaction because it was a reaction nonetheless.

“Is it true? Think of our George like that?” He teases, tapping a finger against your thigh. “That's so naughty.”

Heat spreads between your legs and the tips of George's ears turn crimson.

But now, you can’t help but picture what George would look like when he’s in you. How he would sound, where he would put his hands while he's fucking you. And soon you’re moving against Matty in a way that you wouldn’t have fathomed an hour ago.

“Thoughts?”

Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me.

You blink at Matty. “About what?”

“The song,” He says.

You pause, staring at George and his slightly more readable expression as his eyes wander down to your thighs and the way they’re glued to Matty’s. Watching carefully as Matty slips his hand into your skirt to swipe his finger under the elastic band.

“It’s nice, yeah,” You reply, gasping sharply when Matty prods at your folds. Your eyes flick back to George and he's not looking away this time. You whine when his finger teases over your clit. Arching back into Matty, you mumble through half-lids, “I fucking love it.”

His finger circles in ragged motions, making you jerk into him at an unrhythmic pace that has you uncomfortably screwing your eyes shut in frustration and grabbing him by the arm: “Matty.”

He smirks, knowingly. “Yeah, babe?”

“You're–” You sigh. “You're trying to be annoying.”

He barks a laugh at this, slipping his hand out of your underwear to give you a gentle slap on the thigh.

“Bein' so ungrateful.”

You mewl at the loss of friction but are too proud to beg for it. Your eyes wander back to George and his stiffened stature as he watches you with a slack jaw.

“Grab me that mic, yeah?” Matty says to you as your gaze lowers to George's lap. Sighing, he grabs your chin to redirect your line of sight. “Right over there.”

Right over there happens to be on the other side where George sits. Without thinking too much about it, you’re getting up from Matty's lap and leaning over George to reach it.

You don’t so much apologize for the reach before looking up at him.

“Need anything?” You prod.

His eyes run over you; his gaze dropping down to your disheveled skirt before traveling up to your blown-out expression. You plead with him through your eyes, glancing down to his lap to stare at the bulge in his sweatpants.

“Fuck it,” George exhales, pausing the track with one hand and beckoning you with the other. “C'mere.”

He holds your hand while guiding you on top to straddle him, mumbling in your ear something along the lines of you being a ‘minx’ as you settle in his lap. While your hands go straight to the neckline of his jumper, his go straight to your cunt.

Slipping his fingers past the material, you gasp into his shoulder, breathing out a pitchy ‘oh god’ as he’s quick to work against you.

“Good?” He says, making tight circles around your clit. Then to tease his bandmate, chides, “Better?”

Matty rolls his eyes. "Oh, fuck off."

Numbly, you nod into him, rolling against his fingers as he nips at your neck. Your fingers etch into his neckline, clutching the material like you're desperate to cling to him as he prods at your bundle of nerves.

“Are you going to fuck me?” You ask brashly, through ragged breaths.

You're tired of waiting; you've made it clear for the past three hours.

His chuckle is low against your ear. “Would you like that, sweet girl?”

You assure him you would through hurried moans and shifting your hips against him as he pulls the thin fabric of your underwear to the side. Letting him kiss down the side of your neck, you turn to look at Matty.

He stares at you through parted lips as he watches you get off with his best mate. He gives you a wink before he fishes for some packing paper.

“This alright?” George asks, guiding the tip of his cock into you.

“Yeah,” Your lips are on the cusp of his ear as he does, splitting in two when he pokes at your entrance. “Yes, yes.”

Matty busies himself by rolling another joint, only peering up to watch you sink onto George’s cock.

A loud moan rips through you, prompting Matty to quip: “Everything alright, love?”

“Fuck off,” You repeat his words back to him through gritted teeth.

He chuckles. “Ever the professional.”

You don't care for his banter right now. Your mind is cloudy and the only thing you can focus on is George's grip on you as the way he raises your hips up to fuck into you.

“You’re huge,” You whine into his ear without thinking too much about it.

His fingers dig into your waist as you wrap your arms around him.

“'Told me you weren't a quitter," He mumbles though you can practically hear the smirk threatening to break on his face.

You watch your cunt spread around his cock, over and over again until everything feels white-hot and is searing through your body.

He stills his hands, making you hiss as you let him stretch you out fully. You begin to protest the lack of movement, shifting your hips forward until you whimper at the intensity of it all. Ignoring it, you lift your hips off him again. If George wants you to ride him you will.

But then he slaps your thigh. “Bend over.”

He wraps his arm around you to situate you as you look around the studio. Looking for a place where you could bend over in a practical manner. You furrow your brow, a choked sob buried in your throat as the ache between your legs grows more intense with every passing second of no one touching you.

"Need to be told everything?" George teases, turning you around to push your lower back down into the desk. Bend over meaning here, you think as you rest your burning cheek against the counter. He pushes his hips back into you with a groan. "Bein' so patient."

Patient, patient, patient.

You groan into the desk. You don’t want to be patient anymore.

“Shit.” You hiss as you feel your walls tug onto him greedily. "Please, please, please."

Matty's laugh ringing out makes you tilt your gaze over to him. Smoking surrounds him as he toys with one button on the soundboard (perhaps mockingly) by rolling it on the tip of his finger.

You whine, dipping your head down again as George's hips snap against yours roughly.

Matty whistles, lowly. "Soundin' a little pathetic, love."

The edge of the table is malleable in your grip. You gape at Matty who looks at you with interest. You plead for him with your eyes.

“Matty.”

“Yeah, babe?”

Your nails dig into the wood. “Need you.”

He hums like he's considering. "Need me?"

You don't respond; instead, you chant a chorus of 'please' to George as he grazes that one spot inside you. It makes your eyes roll back and gasp into your hand until you're blinking repeatedly in an effort to see straight.

Only then, Matty's convinced.

He makes a show out of unbuttoning his pants and pushing down the elastic band of his boxers but you can barely see straight as you bobble forward.

You can make out him pulling out his cock, stroking himself a few times while peering down at your submissive state. You think he’s going to make you beg for him and you almost sigh in frustration at the thought because you really don’t have the energy for that right now.

But he just grins at you and says, “Open up.”

And you do.

When he juts his hips into your mouth, you’re steadying yourself with one hand and you’re feeling up his thigh with the other. He busies himself with your hair, tugging it forward roughly until your lips reach the base of his cock.

"My girl," Matty sighs as you hallow your cheeks around him. "My girl is so helpful–isn't she?"

George's hand presses down to your middle back–maybe in agreement with what Matty said–as your name falls from his lips.

"Gonna let me come in your mouth?" Matty muses while gathering a fist of your hair in his hand. His hips stutter, jerking back when he feels you moan around him. "Fuck, you always take it so well."

Your lips grow numb just as you feel your body build to a climax. You know George is close with the way he's grabbing at your hips as he plows into you. Your stomach coils as you push your hips into him–wanting him to finish, wanting Matty to finish as you work against them.

Matty's grip on your hair lifts you up so you can see him. His teasing smirk is vacant, just watching your expression as his mouth forms an o shape and he's bringing you roughly down on his cock until he's coming in your mouth.

Swollen and raw, you swallow (because you always do).

When you come you're arching into George and then pulling your hips away from him as you grapple with the sensitivity bundling in your core. His hand falls between your legs as you jerk against him.

His thrusts turn sloppy, lazily bucking into you until he's flushed against your ass and spilling into you. You breathe his name repeatedly as your body comes down; pushing up from the desk you move to stand, leaning back against George.

And then his hand disappears from in between your legs and he's pulling up your panties that stretched around your thighs. You let him mess with your skirt until he's pulling it down your ass and brushing down the material like he's concerned with making you appear decent.

Amused and out of breath, you stare at him as he fumbles with the material of his sweats. Shifting your gaze, you watch Matty–whose hair is even more disheveled now–tuck himself back into his pants.

His eyes catch yours and you expect him to beckon you back to him with the wave of his hand. Matty gives you a lopsided smile and your heart twinges.

"One more thing, babe," He says, fiddling with the buttons of his trousers.

You realize George's come is soaking through your underwear and running down your inner thigh when you start to wander over to Matty.

Squeezing your legs together, you burn hot.

"Coffee," Matty finally says and you blankly stare at him. He grins, and you can't find it in yourself to despise him for it. Not ever. "Hot coffee would be great right now."

#matty healy x reader #matty healy imagine #matty healy smut #george daniel x reader #george daniel smut #george daniel imagine #the 1975 imagines #*my writing #i listened to savior complex on repeat while editing what does that say about me #anyway this is my official resignation letter as a smut writer #i want to be a fluff and angst writer i can't handle the p*rn life anymore

729 notes · View notes

abiiors · 8 months

Text

midnight, car lights 🌃 // george daniel x reader

a/n: a second fic for the george bbf!au that's been plaguing me lately!! (a third one is coming soon). also happy 10 years of self titled <33 i'm scheduling this to come out at midnight uk time tihi

cw: none really, just fluff and flirting. maybe a very tiny age gap?? like 2 ish years

wc: 3.3k

“let’s go on a joyride.”

those words bounce around in your head like the dvd logo, said to you at 11:50 in the night—whisper-shouted would be more accurate. from under your balcony no less, like some fucked up iteration of romeo and juliet.

so far you have failed to come up with a coherent answer for george who stares up at you expenctantly.

you lean over the railing, your curiosity piqued. "a joyride…” his words repeated back to him in a disbelieving deadpan voice.

he nods eagerly. in his hands is a tiny heap of small stones—the source of the clinks on your bedroom window that had scared you half to death. when george follows your gaze, he drops the rocks hurriedly, dusting off his hands.

“it’s a thursday night…” you point out.

he clicks his tongue. “and you’re clearly not doing anything.”

your eyes narrow at his little jab. sure he’s right but come on now, he didn’t need to point it out like that.

“my brother—”

“is out on his ‘date’.” he makes a little face at that and you stifle the urge to laugh at how icked out he looks. clearly, some more questions that you need to pester matty with. but that’s for tomorrow. right now you raise an eyebrow at the way he cuts you off and finishes your sentences.

“my parents—”

“are asleep!!” his voice acquires a borderline whiny quality. “i checked!” he confirms proudly and before you have the chance to present him with further counterarguments, he throws his hands up in the air.

“come on, little healy,” george’s grins a feral little grin, “scared you’ll get caught?”

you bite your lip, determined not to let him see your smile. it’s midnight, you’re in your pjs—an old ramones t-shirt and tiny shorts that barely come up to the top of your thighs—your hair is half out of your ponytail. in short, you’re the ugliest you’ve ever looked in front of george.

meanwhile he looks like he’s just stepped out of an indie rock magazine—black skinny jeans, a black t-shirt that hangs loosely on him and yet somehow fits perfectly and his beloved vans. at this point, you’re sure george could wear just about anything and still look drop-dead gorgeous.

“only a little drive? i promise i’ll get you back home in one piece.”

truth be told, you had made up your mind the first time he asked. a slow tingle of thrill slithers down your spine. the goody two shoes who’s never even smoked a cigarette before he came into the picture. about to sneak out the window at 11:56 pm.

“okay,” you mumble to yourself. the small smile you’d tried to stifle escapes anyway. “okay, fine.”

george grins and whoops silently, fists the air in triumph. it does something funny to your stomach–his excitement.

“hold on a minute,” you tell him before making a mad dash to your wardrobe for an acceptable pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

the subtle nude lip gloss is inviting but you know it’s too much. he’s probably just bored on a thursday night and has nothing else to do. so begrudgingly you settle on a lip balm and brushing out your hair.

it’s fine. it’s normal. and anyway, he’s not going to see you as anything more than matty’s little sister, so what’s the point?

another little rock clinks on your window followed by a soft whisper-shout.

“hurry up!” the clear impatience in his voice makes you giggle but you look at the mirror a final time, smoothing out your unruly hair. this is as best as it gets.

after all, this is not a date.

“can’t exactly fly out the window, george,” you respond drily as soon as he comes back into view.

he looks around curiously, toeing the grass and pulling it loose with his shoes. you can practically see the wheels in his head turning, generating ideas that you don’t entirely trust… matty’s friends aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed—not according to you anyway—but once george gets an idea, it is downright impossible to deter him.

“that looks good enough,” he mumbles but you catch it anyway, catch the spot his eyes are trained on and your stomach plummets about half a foot.

“have you—have you lost your mind?!” you stifle your screech halfway through, looking at the boy in front of you like he’s grown two heads.

george shrugs, looking the least bit bothered and points to the pipe next to your window.

“it’s sturdy, look,” he gives it two firm raps with his knuckles. “and there’s the brick for you to grab onto. and i’ll catch you.”

the last part has your ears perking up. you look at him with a raised eyebrow. it’s only a floor. the ground below you is soft grass that’s regularly mowed and looked after. if you fall, the most that will happen is a bruised ass (and a bruised ego). besides, the alternative is to go your through the front door and risk waking up the whole house.

“trust me!” he bounces on the balls of his feet, eager and impatient.

george stuffs his hands in his pockets, veins on his forearms taut with tension. his colourful tattoos are a stark contrast to his all-black outfit. should you trust him?

“if i fall—”

“you won’t!” he answers confidently. “i’m not going to let you get hurt.”

your heart skips a beat at how soft he sounds, mumbling the sentence more to himself than to you. a shadow of tenderness crosses his features, or maybe you’re just projecting. just a silly little girl with a crush on her brother’s best friend. a cliché.

“can’t let my best mate’s little sister get hurt,” he clears his throat. and your heart drops in your chest. of course not. to him you are nothing but matty’s sister. ‘little healy’.

“’course not,” you mutter begrudgingly and grab onto the pipe.

george stands below you, hands raised, neck craning to guide your steps down the exposed brick wall. there’s taking risks and then there’s whatever the fuck this is. regardless, you have put a disturbing amout of faith is george and now there’s nowhere to go but down. literally.

the last few feet loom between you and the ground. your sweaty palms almost slip and involuntarily a whimper escapes you.

“almost there, sweetheart,” george murmurs. that word snags in your brain. all thoughts fly away, and before you know it, you’re missing a step, foot slipping on the rough wall. there’s a split second of panic, the beginning of a scream that dies in your throat as soon as you feel a pair of hands around your waist.

warm, rough hands on soft skin.

george, holding you up.

you’re practically pulled flush against his chest, wide-eyed and flushed from the almost fall. funnily enough, the vertigo intensifies the moment you look up into his eyes. they’re just as wide as yours, mouth parted as if he was about to say something.

for a fleeting instant, time seems to stand still. the world around you fades into a distant blur as you and george remain locked in this suspended moment, bodies pressed close together, his towering over yours. his warm breath tickles your skin, and you can feel the rapid thud of his heart against your chest.

"are you okay?" george's voice is a hushed murmur, his grip on you firm yet gentle.

you manage a shaky nod, finding your voice after a few seconds. "yeah, i... i think so."

george's grip on you doesn't waver as he slowly guides you back onto the solid ground, his hands lingering on your waist for an extra beat before finally releasing you. you take a step back, both to regain your composure and to put some distance between the two of you.

"thanks," you mumble, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. "i don't know what happened there." you giggle nervously, unable to stare directly into his eyes.

"no need to thank me,” he smiles, “just glad i was here."

the two of you stand there for a second, the weight of the almost moment hanging in the air. then, as if on cue, george's playful grin returns, diffusing the tension like a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds.

"good to know i can make your heart race like that, little healy," he begins with a teasing glint in his eyes.

despite the heat creeping up your neck, a small laugh escapes your lips, the tension finally breaking as you roll your eyes at his cheeky comment. "you're unbelievable, george."

“right then,” he toes a small pebble, stuffing his hands in his pocket. “shall we?”

his car is cleaner than you expected.

sure there are some receipts and empty plastic bottles on the floor, even a jacket in the back seat for some inexplicable reasons but it’s nowhere near the pigsty that is your brother’s car.

“in you go,” he motions, casually holding the door for you. internally you’re grateful that he can’t see your flustered expression.

it’s a tiny gesture, barely even a gesture really—just a boy opening a car door for you. but he’s not just a boy. he’s george—the boy who makes you mad beyond belief and annoys you with the smallest of efforts. the boy who makes you stumble over your words. the boy who is your brother’s best friend.

“my my, george,” you tease to cover up your flustered silence, “manners. when did that happen?”

george rolls his eyes as he closes the car door behind you, and you settle into the passenger seat. you notice the faint scent of air freshener, attempting to mask any lingering odors from the cigarettes he no doubt must have smoked earlier. you glance sideways at him when he gets settled in the driver’s seat, unable to hide the hint of a smile playing at the corner of your lips.

"believe it or not," george retorts, putting the car in reverse, "i do have manners sometimes. just don't expect it all the time."

another playful taunt crawls up your throat, about to make it’s way out of your mouth when george casually just does the hottest thing you’ve ever possibly seen. your heart is in your mouth as you try not to stare at his arm behind your headrest. george, oblivious to your freak out, focuses solely on reversing the car from its little hiding spot. his cologne—something warm and smoky—fills the tiny car. a space that is so overwhelmingly him that you have to swallow roughly every couple minutes lest you do something incredibly stupid.

like grabbing his face and kissing him senseless.

especially with how inviting his light stubble looks.

instead, you pointedly stare out the window at the dull grey road beneath you.

“scared?” he teases, misinterpreting your darting eyes.

all you can do is shake your head. there’s no way you trust your ability to speak right now, especially as half of your brain is focused on not ogling his arms and hands.

this was a mistake. this was a stupid, idiotic, avoidable mistake.

“come on! aren’t you excited to do something reckless for once?”

you are, you really really are. there’s no denying it as the car finally maneuvers out of the parking spot and away from your house.

you let out a silent sigh of relief. the tension in the air begins to dissipate, and you take the opportunity to relax your grip on the seat. you sneak another glance at george, this time allowing yourself to truly take in his features.

his bleached hair is tousled—just the right amout of effortlessly messy, and his full pink lips only intensify the butterflies in your stomach. george is beautiful—from the way his hands grip the steering wheel with confidence to his jaw that tenses as he focuses on the road. all of it makes your heart race again. you can't deny your silly little crush, can’t deny all the times you have wished george was anyone but matty’s best friend. that you actually had the courage to kiss him. more than that you can’t deny all the times you’ve wished he would kiss you first.

“where are we going?” you clear your throat, distinctly aware of how breathy you sound.

george shrugs. “maccies, i think. been really craving some milkshake.”

and then he has the audacity to snicker at your gaping face. “a milkshake…” you trail off, wondering if hitting him on the head would be taking it too far. “sure, good to know i risked my life for your milkshake cravings!”

“pfft,” he blows air, taking his eyes off the road and training them on to you. “admit it, sweetheart, you were ready to, oh what was it? ‘risk your life’ for the thrill of it. don’t lie to me now, i saw it in your eyes.”

there it is again, the little flutter in your ribcage at the s-word. george seems so casual about it too, throwing it around like it doesn’t bother him whatsoever. and maybe it doesn’t, maybe he uses that on every single girl he talks to. the thought curdles in your stomach.

“fine then,” you huff, turning back to the window.

the mcdonald’s is a flurry of people—drunk and high students looking to satisfy their munchies, homeless people looking for a cheap meal and shelter. exhausted employees handing out orders with a dead expression on their face. you almost feel sad, making them prepare two milkshakes at this ungodly hour.

you turn to george who is busy studying the menu with the utmost curiosity.

“strawberry,” he mumbles to himself then turns to you. “or no, wait. banana?”

you quirk an eyebrow. “strawberry is superior.”

“which means that’s what you’re getting,” he replies and goes back to perusing.

“if you think, for even a second, that i would let you steal—”

“so territorial, sweetheart,” he teases, eyes still on the artificially lit board. “fine. two strawberries then.”

george places the orders, giving the cashier his winning smile and handing over some cash. she perks up slightly, eyeing him through her lashes while george leans against the counter. a sudden heat burns through you, wild and unpleasant.

heartburn, you tell yourself. the milkshake will fix it.

or maybe not looking at george being flirty would fix it but oh well…

so you turn around, finding yourself an empty seat and leave him to bring over the drinks.

minutes later, you almost jump out of your skin when george places the cool take-out container against the nape of your neck without warning.

“real mature, george!” the shriek causes a few people to throw distasteful looks your way but he looks absolutely unbothered and oblivious.

“such a grump,” he snickers and motions for you to follow him.

armed with your milkshake, you settle in the car once again. the car park is almost dead at this hour of the night and you wait for him to start the car back up, for him to tell you what the next steps are but george only taps tirelessly on the steering wheel. a complete 180 from five minutes ago.

tap. pause. tap tap tap. pause. tap. pause. it’s restless and rhytmless; not like his usual tapping where he’s lost in own tune. his milkshake sits untouched, condensation dripping onto the dashboard.

you wrap your lips around the straw, sucking on it noisely, sipping on the sweet, cool liquid while you observe him closely. “something’s on your mind.”

your statement makes him blink. so you’re right then, something is on his mind. he’s more fidgety than usual. in the stillness of the night, his thick swallows and knee jerks are painfully obvious.

“what’s up…” you trail off, unsure if pushing him would be the right move.

“there’s this–well. i want to–”

“this is new.” the amount of glee in your voice should be disturbing to you but you can’t contain it. because it is new.

you’ve seen george be arrogant and annoying, laddish and even on occasion, sweet. but you’ve never seen him be shy before.

“shut up,” he mutters to himself, then sighs loudly. “okay fine, it’s better if i just show you.”

you follow his movements inquisitively, his imperceptibly shaky hands as he takes out his phone and opens up a non-descript recording titled track 11

his phone screen illuminates his face in the dimly lit car as he hovers over the audio file. the soft glow casts a warm, intimate ambiance, making you acutely aware of how close you are to him in the confined space. your curiosity and anticipation mount as you wonder what he's about to reveal.

"i've been thinking about this for a while now," he clears his throat, finger lowering to finally click on the file. "and i want to share something with you."

at first, nothing happens. all that comes out of the speakers is static and then some more static. but just as you're about to speak, the car is filled with the opening notes of a song—one that instantly tugs at your memory. It's a tune that you have heard before, at different points in time. it's the song that matty’s hummed to you on days you were ill in bed, a song you heard them play at band practice. it’s a song that george and matty laboured over for days. the one that brought you all closer together.

and now it sounds all put together. the final piece of the puzzle locked in.

matty’s voice is stronger than you’ve ever heard, adam’s guitar and ross’ bass sprinkling magic onto it. and then there are the drums—precise and clear and passionate. just like how george drums his fingers on his lap now, matching the beat of the song.

when the song ends, there's a brief silence in the car. the weight of the notes and the sincerity in his eyes hang in the air, leaving you breathless.

"george," you finally whisper, "that was..."

“we finished it,” he smiles, looking down at his lap. “so we recorded it…”

“it’s…”

there you are once again, at a loss for words. almost certain that there might be actual tears in your eyes.

“that was…”

“shit? derivative? lousy?” he tries to laugh it off, covering up a vulnerable moment with his jokes but you’d be damned if you let that happen.

“perfect.”

the words echoes around the car resoundingly. there’s no challenging your opinion. the song is perfect.

“and you listen to me once and for all george daniel, if you call that song names in front of me one more time, if i hear you call it shit and derivitive and lousy again—”

before you can finish your sentence, george leans forward, crashing his lips onto yours. there’s a crackle of electricity in the air around you, the slowing down of time as if you’re having an out-of-body experience. as if you are a fly on the wall watching two people giving into the magnetic pull between them. but george cups your cheek with his hand and you jolt back into your body.

his lips are cool from the milkshake but the kiss is searing hot, teeth clashing against teeth. your bodies trying to get as close to each other as possible despite the gearstick between your seats. george tugs on your bottom lip, smiling wide as if he can’t help it—grinning ear to ear.

by the time you pull away, you’re both breathing heavily—practically panting. he doesn’t pull back entirely, instead he keeps his eyes closed and his forehead rested against yours. the grin stays on his face. wide and gorgeous and making him look so boyish.

“um,” you start and break off into a quick laugh.

"i've wanted to do that for quite some time now," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

with some hesitation, george lets go of your face, opening his eyes to look at you a second later.

“damn, sweetheart,” he sighs again, chuckling a little. “this is turning out to be a great joyride, huh…”

lemme know what you think <33

taglist: @scooby-doodoo, @partoftheairforce, @beachesgetpeaches, @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855 @beachesgetpeaches, @you-muppet, @mcabister, @alexmarie29, @at-her-very-foreign, @hfkait, @squishysoupy

add yourself to the taglist

182 notes · View notes

werentwethestarsinheaven · 8 months

Text

i’m your sun

george daniel x female reader

a/n: hi :) i don't really know what this is, but i guess it's sort of a continuation of this little thing i wrote yesterday. let me know what you think!

The crystalline water laps eagerly at the edge of the yacht, rippling on the barnacles that grip the fibreglass. The Amalfi sun seeps into you, leaving behind fresh freckles and pink tender skin. You lazily flip at the pages of a trashy romance novel, tossing it away and scoffing with annoyance when the Italian summer breeze tugs at your hair and sends it spiralling into your eyes.

George’s head perks up from where it lies in the crook between your thighs and your torso, carefully observing your change in mood, his bleached buzz cut tickling you. His slender fingers reach up to your forehead, fingerprints cold from the condensation that dripped off his icy glass of limoncello spritz. Coolness trails across your face, hair now gently tucked behind your ears. His touch keeps travelling, down your neck and into your sinking collarbone, his once cold touch now warm from your radiating skin. He hooks his fingers into the strap of your bikini top, toying and teasing, pulling lighty to reveal a harsh tan line that he attempts to soothe with soft caresses. The inked box on his thumb flexes as his hands continue to move lower, brushing over your breasts, his smirk deepening as he can feel your body tense. You expect him to keep moving, but he stops. The palm of his hand opening and pressing against your chest.

“Your heart is so warm, the sun’s too much angel, I think we need to to cool you down”, he murmers, brows furrowing with genuine concern.

“I’m fine,” you reassure, smiling at his overprotectiveness, holding his face with your hands and letting his stubble press into you.

“George, I’m fine I promise it’s not the sun,” you squeal, he ignores you as he picks you up, pulling you tight to his body. He stands at the edge of the yacht, eyes glistening with deviltry.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s not even the sun it’s you-” Your desperate pleas are cut off.

He’s plunged you both into the ocean, the sea water immersing your bodies and immediately cooling your burning skin. You both break the surface at the same time, cackles and shrieks filling the humid air as you scold him.

“Why did you do that? You could have killed me,” you giggle, playfully sending a splash of water towards him.

He leaps forward through the waves of water and grapples to your shoulders, pulling you into his embrace. His forehead rests against yours, you’re both panting, hearts beating quickly. The distance between you closes, you never know who pulls in during these moments. He would tease and say it was you, while you argue it was him, deep down knowing it’s always you. You don’t think he quite knows the effect he has over you.

You can still smell the countless cigarettes he chainsmoked on the yacht, as well as the sneaky joint he let you have a few puffs of. You can still feel the sticky sun cream he generously applied, somehow blissfully ignored by the sun as a pink tinge has now crept on the bridge of his nose. You can still taste the limoncello, now mixed with a slight tinge of the grapefruit lip gloss he picked out for you at the airport.

Your lips move against each other languidly, wet and soft and passionate. Your fingers are curled at the nape of his neck while his wisp away at your hips. Pulling him closer and closer to you until you can feel his heartbeat pressed against your pebbled nipples. You need him closer. Your legs are coiling together beneath the surface, goosebumps sending prickles shooting from your shaven skin. The water ripples around you as you slowly drag him down, breathing heavily and softly moaning.

It all happens so quickly, now you’re underwater again. Lips still moving together, saltwater gushing into your mouths. Your hold on him grows impossibly tighter, digging your nails into his neck to hold him in place. You don’t even realise how long you’re both under for. How hard you’re clawing into his flesh. How desperately you need him. Sizzling bubbles, the last remnants of oxygen, rise against your bodies as your souls intertwine. You feel like one entity.

Muffles of screaming and thrashing limbs, his fingers finally pry your grip off of his neck.

You break the surface. He weakly pulls you both back onto the boat. You’re no longer in his arms anymore. He’s gasping and coughing and yelling, bent over at the waist. Your knees are pulled to your chest, your body shivering despite the sweltering sun.

“What were you thinking? Why did you do that?”, he spits, turning his head to glare at you, “you could have killed us.” He bitterly repeats the same words you told him earlier.

You fight the salt that stings into your eyes. You can’t tell if it’s the ocean water or your tears. He’s never spoken to you like this. You don’t know what to say. You yourself don’t even know what you were thinking.

“I want you to need me George,” you splutter, holding back coughs as sea water burns at the back of your throat.

“What are you even talking about? Why the fuck did you do that?” he hisses again, confusion and anger still flooding his eyes.

This time you don’t answer.

He just doesn’t understand. You want to be the barnacles that suction onto his body. You want to be the UV rays that burn and make the melanin in his cells scream. You want to be the one to splatter freckles onto his back. You want to be the salt that stings his eyes. You want to be his oxygen and his life.

He’s not allowed to breathe without you.

You want him to need you.

You don’t realise how long you’ve been sat there for. The wooden planks of your rented yacht imprinting it’s patterns into the flesh of your thighs. The sun is saying her last goodbyes, kissing the apples of your tear stained cheeks with an orange glow before sending the moon to glimmer in her place. It seems like George has left long ago, the half empty bottle of limoncello and the neat charcuterie board he delicately fed you earlier packed away and taken with him.

By the time you return to the villa you can tell George is already in bed. He left the door unlocked, the light by the entryway sends a flicker of warmth through eternal darkness.

You trudge through the villa quietly to not make a sound. A trail of your bikini and old sandals and a stolen button up of George’s is left behind you down the hallway. He lies in bed, his bare back illuminated in moonlight and facing away from the door, away from you. Your naked body is caked in salt and sweat and tears. You’re too exhausted to care. Climbing into bed, the ruffle of linen sheets cuts through the uncomfortable silence. You know he’s awake, you can tell by the way his breathing is unevenly paced. That, and you know he can never sleep without you in his arms.

You bring your hand to his back, tracing your fingers softly across his skin, admiring the constellations the sun has branded into him as freckles. You feel jealous of the sun, you wish to somehow eternalise yourself into his body too. Your eyes fall upon the back of his neck. The small crescent shaped indentations from your nails from today have faintly scarred. You reach up to kiss the little moons. You turn over, facing away from him, letting the everlasting flow of tears dampen your pillow.

He’s a barnacle that clings to your mind, the salt that stings your soul, the oxygen that courses through your veins.

Your silent sobs shake the bed, fighting with the movement of the mattress that sinks and rises as he tosses and turns. It feels like an eternity you lie there for. And then you feel it.

His lips press against your shoulder, arms wrapping around your torso. He pulls your soul into the crook of his body that is shaped like you. He sighs contently.

“I do need you my angel,” he whispers, lips brushing on your back. His open palm reaches for your chest.

“I’m your sun.”

#george daniel #george daniel fic #george daniel x reader #george daniel imagine #george daniel smut #the 1975 #the 1975 fic #matty healy

115 notes · View notes

justlikemebutsixfootthree · 1 year

Note

Riding George but he’s still dominant >>>

pairing: george daniel x f!reader

content: riding, george being a cocky fuck, annoying matty

wordcount: 1668

this blog is 18+. minors, do not interact. this blog is a safe space. no hate or disrespect of any kind will be tolerated. all work is my own. do not reupload my work on any other site without my consent.

a/n: everyone say thank you mads (@hereyeswerefilledwiththestars) for beta reading this and being incredibly patient with my incompetence towards technology

george's neighbours probably hate you.

his thin apartment walls do nothing to muffle the sounds you're making as he bounces you on his cock.

"look at me, keep those eyes on me," he says while he steadies you, gathering a fistful of your hair while cradling the back of your head, watching with hungry eyes as you shatter to pieces.

as your hips move progressively faster, he allows you control once you find a rhythm that sends sparks down your thighs.

"god, you're fuckin' perfect, sweetheart."

each cry that tears from your lips is needy and keening - only broken as the grip on your hips tightens to pull you up and off his cock, only to yank you back down again. below, the couch shudders, short and blocky legs screeching as it lurches over the ground.

the bluster of noise is almost perfectly in time with those that he rips so mercilessly from you. it’s pathetic and embarrassing, but you are too far gone to care.

the hand that's not in your hair slips up your front to grope at your chest, slipping underneath your shirt to squeeze your breasts, tempted to rip the thin fabric off and sink his teeth into your skin.

the feeling of his rough hands on you makes you collapse into his broad chest.

”that’s my girl,” he chuckles.

heat creeps up your neck at the praise, his words sending shivers down your spine.

george bucks into you hard, his iron-like grip forcing you down on his cock to match his steady thrusts, hitting that delicious spot inside of you more times than you could ever count.

another strangled whine tears from your lips as his cock plunges into your ruined cunt again. no matter how many times the two of you fuck, you always feel the slight burn of too much when taking him in. he fills you to the hilt every time without even trying. you can swear that he’s lodged so firmly in you that you can feel every last pulse of arousal throbbing through his leaking cock.

and he is already - leaking. smeared with the bead of precum that the pump of his hand has since spread. it felt hot and sticky back upon first entering you tonight. you couldn’t stop yourself from sliding a hand down between your trembling legs, fingertip fumbling as it circled where his length split you apart. it gathered the mix of slick and cum so that you could put it between your lips and moan at how good you both tasted together.

it’s still tart on your tongue now. palpable with each gasp and rush of air that hitches through you. with a sound akin to a growl, george yanks your hair up, forcing you to face him as his lips whisper against your temple, down the side of your face, nipping along your jaw.

desperate to feel his lips on yours, you turn your mouth to seek his. he parts his lips against yours and you press your tongue against him, seeking more. he kisses like he wants to rip the air from your lungs, and so he does. all that you can do is return it - open-mouthed and sloppy as you pant against him.

eventually, you have to break for air.

the inhale almost hurts, but it cuts off as george's hand slides up to grip your throat.

your eyes shoot open in surprise and your jaw drops in a silent gasp. your expression has george smirking, and satisfaction bleeds from his tone as he whispers again, teeth catching the skin on your throat.

"you like that? when i fuck you hard?"

there's heat coursing through your veins and you nod helplessly at his words. you're tight around him and his heated words make it worse. the edge is so, so close.

all you need is a little bit more.

george's fingers flex around your throat and it's getting harder to breathe. your head is spinning, you can barely keep your eyes open, and your only thoughts are of him.

pressure wells up inside you, and it's mere inches away. you can practically taste your climax it's so close.

your whines and gasps are getting louder and louder, and you're about to finish as -

his phone rings. his fucking phone rings.

the noise is splintering - loud and insistent and screechy.

george's grip around your throat lessens, and your hips stutter.

"fuck," george curses, out of breath and flushed. "i have to get that."

weak protests begin falling from your lips, but it's hopeless as he's already reaching around you to grab his phone from the side table.

to your surprise, he presses the phone to his ear with one hand and yanks you back down on his cock with the other - hard.

"it's george," he grunts.

a cry rips from your throat at the cruel movements he forces your hips to make. immediately, his hand slaps over your mouth, effectively shutting you up.

"nah, i can talk now," he says, grinning at you. "'m not busy."

you glower at him, eyes dark. annoyance pulses in the air and he seems to sense it, lips quirking further apart, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

god. smug bastard.

suddenly, there's a sharp pain in his palm as you nip the inside of his hand. shocked, his hand yanks back from you, and his eyes narrow.

smirking, you adjust yourself on his cock, and drag yourself up and down on your own volition.

jaw clenching, his encouraging fingers stroke your thigh before falling to roll against your clit.

"mate, the track sounds fine," george mutters into the phone, voice sounding gruff. "you don't need to add anything. matty i-"

he stutters over his words as you grind down harder. it feels like heaven to you, but george doesn’t squirm or let out any noise underneath your touch. a low growl of annoyance tears from your throat, but it’s mixed in with something desperate and pleading.

while matty rants unintelligibly over the phone, you roll yourself over george harder. it doesn't do much - he can be so fucking determined when he wants to be. and you’re so close.

"come on, doll," george whispers, with a hand muffling his words from the frantic singer on the other end of the line. "make me feel it."

he's completely unbothered. cocky grin permanently plastered on his face as you fall apart on him. by the way that he’s talking to matty, you wouldn’t be able to tell that his cock is so deep in you that you can feel him in your stomach.

“hang up,” you tell him - something fiery washing over you. “now, george.”

his brow arches tauntingly.

your hand shoots forward, ripping the phone from his ear and cutting off matty's rambling. george starts in surprise, but before he can protest, you’re leaning forward - hands wrapping around his throat tightly.

now you get a reaction. his dark eyes, despite being unfocused, are shocked and wide. your grip tightens on his neck - teeth gritted in determination. exaggeratedly, your hips roll over him again.

that’s when george finally cracks. the groan he lets out is filled with heat and promise, and it sends shivers through your body.

“if you’re going to do it,” he warns softly, the tip of his tongue poking out to run over his bottom lip, “do it properly.”

fuck. it's impossible to say no to him.

his mouth hangs open slightly as you work your rhythm, your hands trailing down to the bottom of his shirt, slipping your fingers underneath to lay your palms against his abdomen, a thumb scratching through his dark happy trail. he grunts at the sting of pain, closing his eyes to succumb to the pleasure for a moment before he forces them back open, refusing to miss out on the view of your unabashed pleasure.

ecstasy shoots through you as he takes the lead, clutching your hips hard, thrusting up harshly with ferocity to stretch you out further on his cock.

whining louder, you clutched ahold of him even tighter, feeling the familiar, sharp, blooming tingle of your orgasm trickling closer and closer, like thick, water-diluted honey.

george grips the back of your neck to pull you into a heated kiss, swallowing your gasps and moans.

the moment your band snaps, george releases his hold on your hair to instead grope at your thighs, feeling them violently tremble while you wail.

but he doesn't stop. he couldn't stop. his forehead is stuck to yours while his hands move your hips.

red blooms up your neck, staining your cheeks. tears are flowing freely, and your brow is furrowed as you struggle to hold onto any composure you have left as he starts to slam into that spot deep inside of you mercilessly once more, determined to show you how good he can make you feel.

just as you begin to feel your orgasm build once again, his pace slows, leaving you wondering why before he grabs your jaw to tug you closer, his mouth attaching to your neck, teeth sinking into your throat.

your fingers rush to his hair, tugging on him hard enough to snap his head back against the headrest. smothering his mouth with yours immediately, your teeth nip at his bottom lip.

finally, he tenses below you. his breath hitches in a low, throaty growl as thick, hot ropes of cum spill into you, filling and tainting you. george's nails leave dark marks as they dig into the meat of your thighs, sitting you firmly back down, burying himself in deep, your waist securely pressed against his. you let him pull you into his embrace, his large biceps caging you against his chest as he tries to catch his breath.

"fuck you're amazing, you know that?” he murmurs, voice tired and raspy. “so fucking good.”

“but i really have to go and call matty back now.”

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

301 notes · View notes

bloodisonurtongue · 6 months

Text

NAIL PAINTING / GEORGE DANIEL X READER

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

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

C/W: NAIL PAINTING WITH GEORGE!!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

64 notes · View notes

ilyasorokinn · 7 months

Text

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

63 notes · View notes

wreckedandpolemic · 1 month

Note

car head with George?? I have been thinking about it a lot lately

ok so i know i said blurb night but then i got home and immediately crashed out Sorry about that one

(mdni) in which you get a little bored during a long drive. 796 words.

warnings: oral (m receiving), praise, degradation, unsafe driving practices

george looks so fucking good. he always does, but there’s something thrillingly gorgeous about the way he looks now, tense with frustration as he stares out at the crawling traffic before you. it’s dangerous to play with him when he’s like this; there’s no telling when he’ll lose patience and practically torture you however he sees fit until he’s satisfied. heat pools between your legs at the thought.

you can’t resist running your hand over his jean-clad thigh, the muscles bunched under your touch. “so tense,” you croon sympathetically. “you want some stress relief?”

george grins. “go ahead. so good to me, love.”

it’s almost not as fun when he accepts immediately, the scrape of degradation when he mocks your neediness forlornly missing. you aren’t complaining, though, popping the button of his jeans and freeing his cock from his boxers. god, you’ll never stop being more than a little awed at the sight of him, heavy and thick in your palm before he’s even fully hard. drool pools in your mouth as you pump him slowly, savouring the way he groans softly at the contact. teasingly, you dip your head to lap at his tip, the salt of him licking across your tongue.

“taste so good,” you murmur, wrapping your lips around his tip and digging your tongue into his slit.

one of george’s hands finds its way into your hair, gently tangling in your curls as you take him into your mouth slowly. the stretch at the corners of your mouth sends heat spiralling between your legs, spit dripping down his length. you swallow around him, his quiet groan delicious as his other hand grips the wheel for dear life. “fucking love that mouth of yours, angel,” he says around a low moan. “can take a little more, hm?”

obediently, you lower your head, bobbing up and down on his cock, the slide of your mouth against his spit-slick skin messy and hot. “that’s it. good girl,” george murmurs as his cock bumps the back of your throat and you swallow a gag with practised ease. “such a good little cockslut for me, baby. look so fucking pretty with my dick in your mouth, god.” you squirm at the praise, arousal pooling in your underwear as you moan around him. his hand leaves your hair to come up to the wheel, the car rumbling slightly as it inches forward.

george’s focus leaves you as you take a turning and the road empties out almost completely. the car accelerates breathlessly, your nails digging into his thighs as you swallow him even deeper, inhaling deeply through your nose and swirling your tongue. “fuck,” he hisses, bucking his hips into your mouth. the burn in your throat has tears pooling in the corners of your eyes, dizzying waves of arousal sweeping through you as george fucks your mouth lazily. “sweet girl,” he praises softly, the taste of him overwhelming on your tongue as you moan around him wantonly. “getting off on this, huh? bet your pretty little pussy’s fuckin’ dripping for me, yeah? fuckin’ made to suck my cock.”

his words wash over you, your head deliciously hazy as you pull off him, a string of saliva connecting your swollen lips to his tip for a moment. you grin up at him, eyes blown wide and hair messy. “want your cum down my throat,” you whine, taking as much of him back in your mouth as you can at once.

your cheeks hollow, garbled moans falling from your lips as george tightens his hand in your hair, dragging you up and down his cock like a toy. “pretty, dirty girl,” he murmurs, tears rolling down your cheeks as your heartbeat kicks wildly in your cunt. “‘m close. just a little more, then you’ll get what you want,” he promises as you try every trick, swallowing and moaning around him to the soundtrack of george’s low, rhythmic groans. you feel his muscles tensing. “fuck, shit, m’gonna–” it’s all the warning you need to pull up as his cock pulses, hot ropes of cum spilling on your tongue as he gasps breathlessly. his body strings with tension, his focus intent on the road so that he doesn’t send the pair of you spiralling off the road. you ride out his orgasm, taking every drop he spills as he thrusts shallowly into your mouth.

pulling off him, you pose with your tongue out, showing off his cum pooled there. george groans at the sight, hips shifting as you swallow deliberately. “love your taste so much,” you whisper. “you feel better? less tense?” you tease, smirking. in response, he throws on a burst of speed, pinning you back against the seat.

“just wait until we get home, baby. m’gonna fucking ruin you.”

#george daniel x reader #george daniel smut #george daniel imagine #george daniel #the 1975 #the 1975 smut #the 1975 fanfic #writing #smut #request

85 notes · View notes

yourtouchismidas · 11 months

Note

reading what the new yorker has to say about george and how he radiates utter stillness (very hot) has given me so many ideas, like imagine him with someone who has the absolute shortest fuse ever. idk maybe while he believes in quiet, stoic intimidation, girlie (a foot shorter than him) just gets into a bar fight. maybe she sees a couple of much older men getting a bit too comfy with young girls just trying to have a fun night and she's ready to throw hands. firm believer that george has to actually pick her up and take her away so she doesn't get arrested. also a firm believer of the fact that he finds it insanely attractive and shows it to her quite generously

(the possibilities are endless 😌)

you're drunk. its fucking great and you're having an amazing time. the music is loud. everyone is dancing. you're grinding on some girl you havent ever met, dont even know, and your boyfriend and his bandmates are all at the bar, sipping beers and laughing at you. with the exception of matty who is right there on the dancefloor with you, jumping around and pumping his fist.

ugh george. you love him. you love his face. his cheek bones. his smile when he laughs at you. you give him a cute little wave and he winks at you, barely moving apart from that. then you go back to dancing. god life is good.

you've lost the girl you were dancing with before but you dance with matty for a bit, his curls bouncing, you whooping, egging him on, and him grabbing your hands and spinning you around. when he does, he takes a step back and accidentally nudges a girl behind him, and her and her friends turn to you both, you meeting their eyes as you finish you spin.

matty holds his hands up, "sorry, sorry,"

they glare at him. you pull matty away and start dancing again, saying sorry yourself. the girls turn away. they sip thier drinks. but they aren't moving. thier standing on the dance floor. not dancing. there is plenty of space over by the bar to stand, if they want. you wave at george again, who is standing in the space, like a good boy.

oh well. fuck them. you're having a good night. you just wish they would stop glaring at you, because they are again, in between the gaps matty's arms make. you spin him around so your back is to them instead, so they wont get upset with him again if he nudges them, because he might, because he is drunk too.

you dont know if your feet actually land on hers, you dont feel it, and okay they might have, but the girl yells out.

"erm. ow!" she says. you turn around.

"sorry," you say again, even though you're not even sure you touched her.

"you stood on my foot," she says.

"i'm sorry," you say again, not sure what she wants you to do.

"you should be a bit fucking more careful, you know."

you breathe in. you were being careful. but thats not the point. its a dance floor. in a club. it's one in the morning. and they are standing on it. you start to burn, in your chest, angry.

"you know there is plenty of space over there if you dont wanna dance," you say, pointing to the bar. george notices you point. his attention pricks. he looks over to where you are talking to a group of girls and one of them is giving you a dirty look.

"we can stand where we want thanks," she says. "just like you act like a twat wherever you are."

"woah, alright," matty says, stopping dancing.

"what's this guy's problem anyway?" the girl says, looking round at her friends.

"we don't have a problem," matty says.

"we might," you say, staring at her. george has put his beer down on the side. ross is already primed, ready to watch it, if needs be.

"no no, just go back to dancing," matty says, smiling big at the girls.

"go back to standing in everyone's fucking way you mean," you say.

"shut the fuck up," the girl says, stepping closer to you.

you're in it now, you can't back down, you cant let this girl win. you step towards her too.

"i'll do what i like, thanks though."

the girl shoves you. everyone around you moves. you're reaching out to shove her, and before you know it, george is in the crowd with you, hand on your shoulder and waist, firm, looking down at the girl that shoved you. she has to look up to see his face.

"everything okay here?" he says, mainly to the other girl.

she nods. but she's smirking. she looks back at her friends, smirking. you lunge, out of his protective grasp, towards her. she steps back, trips a little, spills her pink drink all down her white dress. you dont reach her. georges arms have got you again, but this time, he is lifting you into the air.

"come on," he says, "be the bigger person,"

"i dont want to," you say squirming. the girl is crying, looking down at her ruined dress while all the other girls flock around her and fawn over her.

"dont have to," george says, nudging you to look at her, sobbing. you smirk.

george turns to carry you out, but before he does, he turns back to the girls and says, almost monotone, "ladies, if you're not gonna dance, dont stand on the dancefloor. it's good advice"

and then you're both gone, into the night air, into your boyfriend's arms.

#george daniel x reader #george daniel x you #george daniel x oc #george daniel x y/n #george daniel fanfiction #the 1975 fanfiction #the 1975 fanfic #george daniel #george daniel imagine #george daniel fic

107 notes · View notes

butyou-callmewhenyourebored · 1 year

Text

When We Are Together - Matty Healy

Summary: In which Matty falls in love with you in stages his entire life. He knows everything is better when you're together but the two of you are oblivious to the fact you're in love with each other.

Warnings: Swearing. A small section of smut in flashback 2. Unfortunately it's not with Matty. It's with George because I am a whore. Mentions of The S*n. Mentions of Matty going to rehab, obviously we don't know all the personal details apart from the fact there was an intervention after the ilwys era ended and he went and now he's in recovery.

Author's Note: Self proclaimed 'Not a Matty girl' just wrote 12K lol this has legit taken so long cause I procrastinate but hope you like it! Really fucking long because I tend to let my mind wonder, I don't even know if this is any good but I'm trying to get better. I thought the concept was cute anyway. So enjoy! Let me know what you guys think and if you liked it x

Word Count: 12K

Your life had always been surrounded by the boys. So many moments in your life that their fans could only ever dream of knowing about or being involved in but you didn’t know any different, it was just your life. You had no choice in the matter when your brother and best friend in the entire world was the bassist in the band. That’s right; Ross MacDonald was your big brother and you seemed to be somewhat of a legend amongst their hardcore fanbase yourself for putting up with their antics for as long as you had! Not that you really had a choice when you were tied to them via blood but they had also hired you as their personal assistant so you could follow them around the world and so none of them had to part from you for too long.

You had personal relationships with all of the band, not just your brother who genuinely was the best big brother you could have ever asked for. He was your best friend and had been since the moment you were born. Sometimes it irritated the others how annoying the two of you were when you both got into silly moods, with all your inside jokes and side looks that nobody else understood. Especially Matty who always wanted in on the joke. But Ross was a ride or die kind of guy and you were the same. If it came down to it you would fight over who took the first bullet.

Adam Hann. Adam truly was an angel of man sent to earth to be your bestie and you don’t think you could love him anymore if you could. Someone you could geek out about The Office with on the tour bus and who brought you coffee when he could see you needed a pick me up. The most level headed of the boys, you know he’ll always be on your side. Someone who’s come to your rescue during many nights out both pre and post fame and took your hand, pretended to be your boyfriend with no questions asked and got you away from creeps more times than you would have liked. You couldn’t be more grateful for a selfless friend like Adam Hann.

George Daniel. Your ‘little’ Georgie had been in your form at school, so apart from your brother until you were much older and started hanging out with them more, you had spent the most time with him. So it’s fair to say that the pair of you were close. So close that you lived with him and Matty in your early twenties. Even a small indiscretion on his 23rd birthday much to your brother’s dismay didn’t change the course of your relationship. Now that you were both thirty two and you were still working for him, clearly the two of you didn’t care that you had seen each other naked. If anything your night together all those many moons ago had brought you closer together. You would trust him with your life.

Then there was Matty. Matty was something else. If you asked his fans, depending on if you were asking old or new fans. He was something else in two senses of the word. To you he was just Matthew. Your big brother’s best friend who was a bit of a weird kid, transitioned into a somewhat cool teenager who you had a bit of a crush on when you were seventeen, to the most annoying person you’ve ever laid eyes on. But also he was your best friend. An old married couple is what George labeled you both and he wasn’t wrong, the pair of you did have a bit of a domestic life together when he wasn’t busy being a rockstar.

I think the fans would be shocked to find out he likes doing the mundane things in life like doing the food shop with you and fighting at the tills that it was his turn to scan his club card. Or walking the dog, drinking a good cup of tea at his Mam’s house or cooking with you over a glass of wine with Donny Hathaway playing in the background on the record player.

He had done so much for you over the years and you always thought it was just Matty being Matty and looking out for you. Hiring you as the band’s assistant, so you could see the world with them so you weren’t stuck in a stuffy office job in England. Even though you had graduated from uni with a first class degree in photography. Moving you into his home when you broke up with your long term boyfriend in 2020 so you weren’t wallowing in self pity. It was probably then, that George cemented your “marriage status” because you did do everything together and apparently you had been oblivious your entire friendship until now.

It was in this moment in Belfast on the last night of the UK tour that your head swimming with all of the moments in your life that led you to here with Matty, tears brimmed with tears. That you realised that it was him the entire time.

April 2007

You pulled the front of the white tank top you were wearing down, allowing the frilly cups of your red bra to peek out the top. Your top tucked into a short black mini skirt, paired with a big chunky belt and hoop earrings and some wedged sandals on your feet. You actually felt good about yourself for once! You, Sarah and Rebecca ready to get drunk and dance your asses off with all of your friends as you celebrated Matty’s birthday.

Matty’s 18th birthday party was being held at his house. A classic Healy house party yet you still wondered how Denise and Tim were somehow trusting him enough for the night to not burn the house down so he could celebrate his birthday with his friends without parental supervision.

You of course had yet to turn eighteen, as had your brother who was only eleven months older than you. So you turned to your lord and saviour Adam Hann who went to the local off license and bought you a pack of Bacardi Breezers for the party.

When the three of you arrived; you immediately got swept away by your other school friends, giggling at the thought of getting drunk with all your friends and making out with boys your brother would definitely disapprove of was the motivation you needed to open your first drink of the evening.

It was after a few drinks, definitely too many shots of whatever George had proclaimed Matty’s Dad’s had left for the birthday boy. You were starting to feel the effects of the alcohol you had drunk that evening when you spotted Max. Tall, brunette, curly hair and a killer watt smile that made you weak at the knees, talking to George.

Silent motivation from Phoebe as she ruffled her hands through your hair and pushing your tits into a good position as Sarah dabbed on some more lip gloss before pushing you in the direction of the boys, slapping your ass with a quick “Go get him tiger!”

Shooting her a grin over your shoulder, you strutted on over to where George and Max stood clutching their beer bottles as they conversed about god knows what. Hoping to catch his attention, you threw on your best smile as you stopped in front of the two of them.

“Hello boys!” You beamed a the two of them, eyes lingering on Max a little longer. “Having a good night?” You asked, twiddling the straw around your drink as you waited for their answer.

“Even better now you’re here gorgeous!”

Your heart fluttered for a moment. Max was flirting back.

“Your tits are looking mega tonight babe!”

George broke your eye contact with the tall brunette as your eyes flitted towards him. The blush flushing across your cheeks at George’s compliment, “Ohhh thanks G!” You laughed awkwardly, catching his eyes fall to your tits once more just as Ross walked past the three of you.

“Dude! That’s my sister!” He punched him in the arm; a scowl on his face and immediately pulling you away with him and far away from the boys and into the crowd of people dancing in Denise and Tim’s living room.

“You’re no fun!” You huffed.

“You can do a lot better than Max sis. Believe me! I’m just looking out for you.”

He smiled softly at you and you sighed, knowing you couldn’t ever stay mad at him. He knew you better than anyone else and always looked out for you no matter what. “Thanks bro. I know. I’m just going to get some fresh air, it’s a bit stuffy in here.”

You sent him a smile, squeezing past him and all the other sweaty bodies to head out the sliding doors at the back of Matty’s kitchen. Letting out the breath you hadn’t realised you had been holding as the cool spring air brushed over your skin. Taking in the serenity of the night air, you didn’t realise anyone else was out there until you heard a cough causing you to snap your head towards the noise.

Matty was leaning up against the back wall, cigarette hanging from his lips.

“Alright birthday boy! What you doing out here by yourself?” You laughed lightly as you approached; leaning next to him as you took in the slightly solemn look on his face.

“Bit overwhelming in there. Thought I’d like the attention but there’s too many people. Half of them are just here to get drunk, they don’t care about me.” He laughed bitterly; blowing smoke into the air. “Anyway. What are you doing out here?”

“Just needed some air. It was a bit stuffy in there. Too many people.”

“Ahhh so we’re alike in our thinking.” Matty laughed. “Wish it was just you and the boys to be honest.” He mumbled, shuffling his feet.

“Hey. You know if you want we can have a do over. Come over to mine and Ross’ tomorrow. We’ll order pizza and watch True Romance. I’d hate for you to not look back fondly at your 18th.” You smiled softly as you spoke.

“You’re brilliant.” Matty’s eyes bright as he looked at you. “I’d really like that. Thanks sweetheart.” Matty shot you a genuine smile for the first time since you stepped outside.

A brief moment of silence settled across the two of you before Matty spoke again.

“You look incredible tonight.”

“Ohhh.” You looked down at your feet, unsure of how to take the compliment.

“Hey.” Matty lifted your chin up. “What’s all that about? You’re the most beautiful girl in the room.” He said earnestly; swiping at the apples of your cheeks and holding your jaw in his hands.

“Just didn’t think anyone could look past the fact I’m Ross’ sister. Nobody ever calls me beautiful.”

“Not even Josh? Didn’t you date him for nearly a year?” Matty asked as you shook your head.

“Then he’s an idiot. You’re always the most beautiful girl in the room darling.”

“Matty.”

It came out a whisper as you both stared into each other’s brown eyes. Matty’s eyes dancing across your features, settling on your lips before looking back up and catching your gaze already on him. Matty leaned in, his face getting closer to your own as your mind started racing.

Did you want to kiss Matty? Kinda, yeah!

Should you kiss Matty? No, definitely not. Ross would kill the both of you.

Did you kiss Matty? Yes.

“We shouldn’t.” You whispered, lips mere inches away from his own.

“But a birthday kiss is all I want this year.”

His words came out of a whisper, you didn’t say anything else just pushed your lips against his and allowed him to pull you closer as his mouth moved against the softness of your glossed lips. His hands moving from your face, dancing down the sides of your body and landing on your waist before he reluctantly pulled away, forehead resting against your own.

“You’re good at that.” He pecked your lips once more.

“Mmmm.” You hummed; opening your eyes as Matty held you close. You quickly opened your mouth to say something and promptly shut it again when you caught the way Matty looked at you. “Fuck it!” You mumbled and slammed your lips back against his own.

The birthday boy now pushing you up against the wall, hands impossibly tight on your waist as he pulled you as physically close as possible. Your hands uprooting themselves in the hair at the back of his neck and tugging as you snogged him like your life depended on it. Like you weren’t pushed against the back of his kitchen wall in his garden, where any of your school friends could come out and catch you. Or worse; your brother but you didn’t care because the way Matty was kissing you made your whole body tingle.

Tugging his hair again as his tongue moved against your own. Matty groaned loudly; finally pulling away. “Fuck settle down! You know I can’t be found with you and if you keep doing that, someone is going hear us.” He groaned as he continued to pepper kisses up the side of your jaw.

“Hmmm, don’t feel like being murdered by my brother right now.” You sighed; leaning back against the wall to take him in. Lips swollen and eyes bright as he watched you.

“I don’t want to be murdered by your brother either. Worst birthday ever!” He chuckled; hands dancing across your waist. “But that was my favourite birthday gift! Thanks sweetheart!” Matty grinned; watching you push yourself off the wall and smooth yourself down before heading back towards the house.

You paused for a moment; your foot on the last step, your hand lingering on the handle to the back door for a millisecond as you looked over your shoulder one last time at Matty who was just watching you. You sent him a soft smile, your hair falling in front of your face as you laughed before leaving him the dark as you rejoined the party.

A kiss with Matty who was your big brother’s (and your) annoying friend, someone you had an innocent schoolgirl crush on once he started becoming a tiny bit cool as the lead singer in their band. Something you didn’t think was an overly big deal, after all people kiss people they shouldn’t when they’re drunk all the time. Turns out it was the starting point of the trajectory of how your’s and Matty’s story begun.

March 2013

In the midst of releasing a series of EPs and gigging around the country and building up their hardcore fanbase. You had managed to get the boys all to just relax for a moment and celebrate the release of their Music for Cars EP and the fact that it was George’s 23rd birthday this weekend. And how did you celebrate? The only way you lot knew how, a dirty ole’ house party just like the good old days.

You had managed to squeeze God knows how many people in little flat you shared with George and Matty. As far as flatmate’s go, they weren’t all that bad. You had moved in with them straight after university so you had definitely had worse.

You had just downed what you believe was your fifth vodka shot of the evening and decided you needed to pace yourself a bit more if you weren’t going to stumble into your room and pass out any time soon. So upon spotting Ross, you wondered over to your brother who was sat talking to Hann; wiggling your way in between the two of them with a giggle. Ross automatically lifting his arm for you to slip under as you nursed the rest of your wine at a slower pace until your glass was empty.

After your head stopped spinning a sufficient amount, you found yourself milling about the flat and smuggling yourself into Matty’s embrace as he poured you another glass.

“Enjoying yourself sweetheart?”

“Mmm. Have you see the birthday boy?” You felt Matty’s lips pressed to the top of your head as you asked.

“You leaving me already?” He chuckled. “Think he popped out the back for a cig.”

He motioned towards the back door. You immediately unravelled yourself from him, a kiss smacked against his cheek, catching the corner of his mouth. Not that you noticed in your flurry but Matty did. The longing for the feeling of the two of you had shared in his back garden prickling at his chest as his eyes locked onto your retreating figure as you rushed through the throng of remaining people in the kitchen and exiting the flat.

Matty was right. You found George smoking out the back in your little tiny back garden under the dying glimmer of your shit security light that was attached to your back wall. Turning in your direction at the sound of the back door shutting, George automatically opened his arms for you to slot into his side, arm hung loosely over your shoulder as he let out the smoke he had just inhaled. Wordlessly placing the cig in your mouth to let you take a drag yourself, you passed it back and forth between the two of you in silence.

Stubbing the end into the brick, George dropped it into the bucket of dirty filters before breaking the silence. “God what time is it?” He asked as you watched him push the balls of his hand into his eyes.

“Nearly 2am! Why you need to go to bed Grandad?!”

“Fucking maybe?! How many people are left?” The now blonde motioned towards the house.

“Only a few. Heard Sally talk about some of them heading into town on the way out and Luke and Helen have to be up early so they left nearly a hour ago. Just the band and about three other now. You ready to head in birthday boy?” You asked; holding out your hand for him to take with a smirk.

With a silent nod George didn’t hesitate to grab onto your hand as you tried not to trip over the many plant pots that were littered across your garden path. “You given me my birthday present yet? I can’t remember?” You turned to look at the drummer. An amused look on your face because he had given you the brightest smile when he had opened the personalised drumsticks you had gotten him earlier. “Or are you my present? Wait is this an ambush?” George gasped. “Please be an ambush!” He grinned at you.

“You should be so lucky!” You scoffed; before shooting him a smirk as you opened the the kitchen door.

“Your tits look mega in that dress by the way!” His tone smug as he closed the kitchen door behind him. Your only response being the cackle that left your mouth as you left George to watch you walk away as you joined the rest of the band in the living room.

Lucky indeed because once the remaining guests left about twenty minutes later. You had snuck into George’s room to say good night and wish him a happy birthday and it’s how you found yourself currently with aching arms. As they were locked either side of George’s knees, his hands tight on your waist as you bounced on his cock.

You weren’t sure how long you had been in this position. You do know he had already made you cum twice though. Once on his tongue and once with his fingers but my God were you spiralling towards your third. The thick drag of his cock between your legs as he stretched you out was delicious but you needed to cum quick because you weren’t sure how long you could stay in this position for.

“Jesus Christ! So fucking good George!” You wailed; as George’s thumb swiped through the slick between your legs and rubbing at your clit.

“Feel good baby?”

“Yes. Shit! So good!” You panted. “Arms hurt though, fuck.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you.” He said; pulling you forward.

You fell forward at full speed; having to catch yourself on either side of his face to stop yourself from head butting him as his large hands moved from your hips to grab on to the globes of your ass before plowing up into your cunt so fast you saw stars dance under your eyelids. All you could do was shake and babble out a string of, “So good. So good. So good.” As George made you cum again.

Pulling out quickly. You had no time to recover as George flipped you over; face already in his pillows as he pushed back into you as he chased his own orgasm. The drag of his cock made you feel delirious at the speed in which he was fucking you back into the mattress.

“Fucking hell. You’re so good G! Yes! Yes! Yes!” You screamed into the mattress, really not caring that your mutual best friend was on the other side of the wall.

His name fell from your lips like a chant. You hadn’t been fucked this good in forever, if at all and the fact it was your Georgie made your head spin.

“Come on baby. One more and I’ll give it to you.” He whispered in your ear, kissing the back of your shoulder before pulling you back on to his cock at rapid speed and sending you hurtling towards your fourth orgasm of the night (well morning) and George to fill you up with a satisfied groan.

Pulling out; your gentle giant rolled over, the pair of you catching your breath after fucking for a good hour. Rolling your head to the side to take him in, you pressed a kiss to the top of his shoulder with a chuckle. “Happy Birthday G!”

The now blonde let out a loud laugh as the pair of you snuggled into each other’s arms, like you would normally do under any other circumstances as George pressed a kiss to the side of your face. The temporary bliss shielding you both from the circumstances you’d have to face in the morning.

When you did manage to wake up the next morning, George was still fast asleep but his alarm clock read 10:12 and you knew you’d have to get up to tidy the flat because Matty certainly wouldn’t. As you looked around George’s room, you scrambled to find anything to hide your dignity as you moved around to clean up. As you pulled the shirt George was wearing the night before over your bare body, you didn’t have chance to register the other voices on the other side of the bedroom door.

“Where is she? She’s not answering her phone? She’s not in her room either.”

Matty didn’t answer Ross’s question, just grumbled into his arms before flinging himself down onto the dining room table dramatically.

“What’s the matter with you? You look like shit Healy!” Hann shoved his shoulder with a laugh as he threw himself on the sofa.

“Well you’d look like shit if you didn’t get any sleep cause you could hear George fucking at all hours of the night too.” Matty snapped at the two of them.

“Who was he shagging? I thought he wasn’t seeing that blonde anymore?”

Unfortunately for you, this was when you decided to make your grand appearance. Walking out of George’s room in nothing but his shirt and your knickers from the night before. The three of them silent as they took in your appearance.

Adam’s jaw slack as he looked on in shock as everything clicked into place before his very eyes.

Matty looked pained as he ran a hand through his curls before pushing himself up off the dining room table and shuffling into the kitchen, silently flicking the kettle on.

Ross looked angry. You could see it simmering in his eyes. The vein on his neck pulsing as he starred you down.

“I’ve been trying to ring you. Why were you in George’s room? ”

“I’ve been asleep. I’m here now aren’t I? Everything alright?” You brushed past him, trying to avoid talking about the inevitable. You hated when Ross was angry.

“Why do you have George’s shirt on?”

The two of you competed in a stare off. The both of you silent. Neither of you making the next move. If there was one thing you MacDonald siblings were, it was stubborn. Adam was watching on in anticipation. The only noise to be heard was Matty shuffling around the kitchen in the background. Your brother asked you again. Why was he asking you questions he didn’t want to know the answers to.

“Don’t make me say it bro.” You sighed; annoyance flashing across his features.

“You slept with my best friend?” Ross immediately started raising his voice. He already knew the answer, he didn’t need your confirmation. Not that he waited for it because he was already storming towards George’s room and right on queue, the door swung open to George just in his boxers.

“Ross. Stop!” Your voice loud and going ignored.

“YOU SLEPT WITH MY SISTER?!”

Ross was seething. Hann was immediately by your side ready to intervene. Matty still off and away from the drama (which was very unlike him) that was about to unfold. He was unlawfully quiet but you couldn’t think about that when Ross was squaring off with George in the doorway to your rooms. The shouting sounded like you were under water as you zoned it out. This was a disaster. It was only when Hann touching your arm, whispering if they should intervene or not that brought you back to reality and had you storming right in between the two giants.

Pushing your way in between them. You stood with your back against George’s chest, a hand on your brothers and looking up at him with pleading eyes. “Ross. Please. Fighting George isn’t going to solve anything.”

“You slept. With my sister. What about fucking bro code?! Not cool dude!”

“It was me.” You shouted over the top of his booming voice, all four of them turning to look at you as you very rarely raised your voice. “It was me. I initiated it. So if you’re going to be mad at someone, shout at me because it’s my fault.”

“Babe you don’t have to defend me.” George touched your shoulder gently. “I know, we shouldn’t have done it.”

“Don’t touch her!” Ross zoned in on George’s hands upon your shoulders. He quickly lifted them up in surrender.

“George, we’re both consenting adults.” You addressed him before turning back to your brother. “I’m sorry but if you’re going to sulk about it, blame me because I started it. Ross you know I love you more than anything in this world but you can’t hate everyone that goes near me.” You reached for his hand to give it a squeeze. “It was literally a one night stand. Promise it won’t happen again.”

Ross tried to pull his hand out of yours at your words, the vein in his neck twitching at the fucked up thought of his little sister casually sleeping around. “I’m not fucking happy about it. Fucking bro code dude.” He threw his hands up dramatically before turning towards the door. “I’m going for some fresh air.”

Ross quickly yanked open the front door, Hann hot on his tail, muttering something about checking on him which left you with Matty and George. The three of you standing in silence for a moment before George popped a kiss on top of your head and mumbling about a cig and heading out the back.

Matty disappeared again into the kitchen as you plonked yourself down at the dining room table with a groan. The ticking of the clock the only thing to be heard as the two of you were now the only ones left in your tiny flat. Sitting down next to you, Matty didn’t say anything. Just pushed a mug of coffee towards you and sipping his own.

“You don’t hate me do you? You haven’t said anything all morning.”

Matty took a sip of his coffee, a look of contemplation on his face as his eyes flitted towards you. The silence deafening and the thought of him being upset with you made your heart ache.

“You never offered me that on my birthday.”

You blinked rapidly as you stared at him. That was it. That’s what he chose to say.

Matty tried to say it with a joking lilt to his words. A smirk hiding behind his mug of coffee as you took in his words. But he knew deep down that there was a seriousness to it. It was true, you’ve never done anything with him other than when you kissed at his 18th, on his birthday or otherwise. Apart from one drunken weekend about two weeks later. He wasn’t sure why the thought made his heart pang. But it did. You opened your mouth to respond, quickly shutting it again as a flush rushed to your cheeks as you remembered the night in his garden five birthdays ago.

You let out a shaky laugh, not knowing what to say, shoving his shoulder playfully as you settled back into your chair, steaming coffee ready to be drunk.

“I don’t, you know.”

You turned you head to curly haired man beside you confused at what he was saying.

“I could never hate you.”

2014

You weren’t exactly sure where you were. What state you were in. What time it was or how much you and the band had to drink or what drugs Matty had taken tonight but you were fucking exhausted. You had been following your brother and your best friends around the world for the best part of just over a year, ‘acting’ like their personal assistant.

You were essentially a glorified baby sitter for these four man children. You wouldn’t change it for the world though, you got to travel the world with your best friends and take cool photography in the cool cities you visited but it was all catching up to you. All whilst they were busy being rockstars, some more than others but that was a different story.

You wanted nothing more than to be in the dingy little flat you shared with Matty and George in Manchester, catching up on washing, going down to your local Sainsbury’s and doing the weekly shop. Anything that didn’t require going to bed post 3am.

But you were currently in a club in Atlanta or was it Nashville? You didn’t know but what you did know was that you were bloody tired and the thought of travelling on the tour bus to the next state with a hangover was genuinely about to send you into a downward spiral if you didn’t get yourself back to the hotel asap.

Tucked neatly underneath Hann’s arm, his arm loosely hanging over your shoulder as you rested your head upon his shoulder, you prayed for your brother to round up the other two quicker than he was because you were actually asleep standing up at this point. You didn’t think it was possible to be asleep with your eyes open but you were positive at this precise moment in time it was currently happening.

Ross finally reappeared with George in tow but there was no Matty trailing behind the two of them. You groaned loudly as you clapped eyes on the two of them. Ross looked defeated, tiredness set his eyes too. George smirked when he heard your groans.

“Not the usual type of groans you make when you see me baby.”

“I’ll punch you so hard before Ross even gets the chance to if you don’t shut the fuck up Daniel's. Where’s Healy?” You huffed, scowling at the boy in front of you.

“Mumbled something incoherent before refusing to leave.” Your brother grumbled.

“Give me two minutes.” You sent Hann a soft smile, before removing yourself from the bubble the two of you’d created at the end of the bar before pushing your way through all the sweaty bodies until you found him trying to chat up some blonde model type near the DJ booth.

Gently placing your hand around his bicep to get his attention, his curls whipped in your direction to see who was touching him. The first thing you noticed apart from the bright grin he was now sporting were his dilated pupils. So he had taken coke again, brilliant.

The sigh that left you so deeply rooted, you’re surprised he didn’t pick up on it. You hated the way it made him feel after the high was over.

“Hi darling! Hasn’t tonight been amazing? Wait where are the others? Can you believe your brother tried to make me to go back to the hotel? How sick was the gig tonight? Do you want to dance? Hey let me introduce you to…” He spoke at a hundred miles a hour as he spewed out utter nonsense, turning to realise the blonde he was chatting up was long gone.

You watched Matty’s shoulders sag, sad eyes now back on your own. “You fancy coming back with me? I’m dead on my feet and don’t really fancy nursing this inevitable hangover whilst being stuck on the tour bus for over six hours with you lot without at least four hours of decent sleep.”

“But I don’t want to go home yet.” He pouted.

“You come with me now, I’ll let you stay in my bunk tomorrow and I won’t complain about how clingy you are. Promise!”

“Like a sleepover?!” Matty’s face lit up again.

“If you like, yeah!” You laughed at his childlike enthusiasm.

“Come on then, let’s go right now!” He started to drag you through the crowds. “I’m sharing with Ross tonight. I think he’d rather kill himself than watch you throw yourself at me!”

“I don’t throw myself at you.” You laughed at the frown he was pulling at you.

“It’s been known to happen Healy! I don’t mind though. My bunk tomorrow. Pinky promise.”

“Tomorrow.” Matty sent you a soft smile; his pinky looping around your own before you started to tug him back towards the boys. “I just want to clarify, I don’t throw myself at you I just like lying on your tits is all!” He said, pulling a laugh out of you as you approached the rest of the band. Your brother already leading the troops out the club as he saw your approach, eager to get out of there and into bed.

You had currently been on the road from Atlanta to Raleigh, North Carolina for the past two hours and the hangover was showing no signs of disappearing. You had already watched half a season of The Office with Hann and had taken a half arsed nap with Ross but it was hard trying to sleep in the lounge, when your head was knocking off his shoulder every time the bus hit a pot hole.

Not to mention; if Matty made one more fucking sound, you were absolutely positive one of you was going to throw him out the window. It was a toss up between you and Hann, whoever got to him first I suppose. But he was getting on your last nerve. He was annoying at the best of times but there was something about his come down today that was irritating you to no fucking end. He so much as breathed too loudly and it was sending you spiralling into deep pit of annoyance.

You and the band were up back in the lounge area, some Adam Sandler movie playing quietly in the back ground that you were pretty sure none of them were even paying attention to. When Matty threw his phone across the bus, swearing something incoherent under his breath and it was the last straw.

Standing up abruptly, you managed to startle both Ross and Hann at the speed in which you moved. Pulling down George’s hoodie that you had stolen, so it covered more of your ass over the pair of gym shorts you had on. You turned back towards your brother and Adam, irritation etched across your features, scowling at Matty as you eyed him out of your peripheral, as he moped about next to George.

Just the image of him, made you want to roll your eyes.

“I’m going to my bunk before I fucking throttle him!”

You sent them both a sarcastic smile before storming off to your bunk. You can’t have been there ten minutes before your peace was interrupted by Matty who was peering around the curtain and asking if he can join you. You let out a big sigh before silently nodding your head as he lumbered on into the small space.

Immediately wrapping his arms around your waist; his head found home upon your chest just like it always did when he wanted a cuddle. Your hand that was wrapped around him made its way up to his head, where it settled in his curls, finger tips running across his scalp. The sound of his soft sighs automatically calming down the irritation that had been bubbling inside you since he had awoken this morning.

You weren’t entirely sure how long you had been lying there in silence. You only broke the silence when the coldness of Matty’s fingertips slipped underneath your hoodie to touch the warmth of your skin. His thumb rubbing circles across the softness of your hips as he snuggled further into your tits as one of his legs started pushing its way in between your own as he got comfy.

“Matty?” Your voice gentle as you tried to get his attention.

“You said you wouldn’t complain.” His voice muffled as he spoke into your covered breasts.

“Your fingers are fucking freezing that’s all.” Your chest vibrated with laughter.

“Sorry sweetheart” Matty moved the slightest bit, to kiss the underside of your chin before snuggling back into the warmth of your hoodie.

“I don’t mean to, you know?” He whispered softly.

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t mean to make you angry.”

His voice was barely above a whisper, that you nearly missed it.

“I’m not angry. Why would you think I’m angry at you?”

“You looked like you’d rather die than be anywhere near me before.” The hand that was weaving through his curls stopped. “I hated it. Hated that you looked at me like that. Made me feel even more shit than I already do.”

“Healy look at me.” Matty didn’t move a muscle, head still tucked underneath your chin, no effort in moving at all at your words.

“Babe. Look at me.” Your voice more stern, wiggling away from his grip so you could look down at him properly. “I could never hate you. Ever.” Your eyes flitted across his features, hardened by the late nights on tour and the hardcore partying. “I hate what that stuff does to you. I would never stop you from having fun but when you do that stuff, I hate how it makes you hate yourself the next day. I don’t want you doing something you’re going to regret because believe it or not Healy. I’m quite fond of you and I don’t think my heart could take it if something happened to you. Neither would my brother’s or Hann’s or George’s. We love you a stupid amount you know.”

Matty blinked at you as he took in your words, his brown eyes glossing over before shoving his face into you neck, the grip around your waist becoming impossibly tighter. Your body shaking as his vibrated against yours, soft sobs leaving him as he chanted; “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Over and over again.

All you could do was hold him closer and reassure him, that he had nothing to be sorry for and you were just looking out for him because anything else, you were afraid it might break you and you’d cry too. As your best friend was breaking his heart and wetting the hoodie you were wearing.

“Don’t apologise for having fun. I just want you to be careful. All I ever want is for you to be okay and sometimes what you do with all those people you don’t know isn’t good for you sweetheart.”

You squeezed him tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. As he mumbled how “I’ll be better, I promise” into your neck, pressing multiple kisses in quick succession to just under the right side of your jaw before settling back into silence where the two of stay for some time.

The soft regular movement of Matty’s thumb rubbing circles on your hip stopped, his hand significantly less colder than they were before he had them up your hoodie, moved across the expanse of your lower back and rolling you over so you were now draped over him instead and tucked into his side.

“You know sometimes I feel the only time I might get better is when we are together. You ever feel like that?”

It was now your turn to nod silently, a soft hum leaving your mouth as you pressed a quick kiss into his skin as you settled into a slumber.

2017

You had been pottering about your flat most of the morning, doing a deep clean of the place before you were supposed to be heading to meet the boys for Sunday dinner. Your boyfriend of nearly a year Michael, once again opting out of spending time with you and your family, claiming he had better things to be doing that sitting about and listening to the boys talk about what they had been getting up to in the studio again.

Personally you think it was because George let slip last time Michael could actually be bothered to join you all for a drink, that he had slept with you in a drunken ramble, much to the dismay of your boyfriend, your brother and yourself. And Michael didn’t take too fondly to the fact you were still close with George after the confession.

You were in the middle of folding the last bit of the washing that you had dumped on your bed when your phone pinged with a text from Hann.

‘Did you get a letter in the post this week? x’

‘I get a lot of stuff in the post Ads! Off who? x’

‘Matty x’

The moment you saw his name, your heart got stuck in your throat. None of you had heard from him since he he had left, something to do with his recovery. So the thought of contact from him had you dropping your phone on the bed and rushing from your room, shouting at Michael about the post you had received this week. Only receiving a mumble from him about the fire place; had you dashing to the living room, where you rifled through the post sat on top of the mantelpiece.

There slotted in between this months Rolling Stone subscription and a local take away menu was a white envelope addressed to you.

A Barbados post mark sitting in the top right corner.

Dropping the rest of the mail on the coffee table, you rushed back to your bedroom, locking the door immediately before sitting at the edge of your bed and taking in Matty’s scrawl of a penmanship. Running your fingers over the ink; your mind flashed back to that day.

The day you realised he wasn’t okay.

How completely out of it he was as you watched him at their last festival gig of the iliwys tour cycle. How utterly miserable he looked as he threw himself about the stage, looking just the shadow of the man you knew and loved.

You knew something wasn’t right as you watched from the side of stage with their manager Jamie. George ever the professional, had even broke his concentration bubble to catch your eye several times during their festival set, worry set in his features.

The way your gentle giant walked straight up to you, stopped in front of you and just by the look in your eyes. Your face never one to hide your emotions. George wrapped his arm around you and without a single word, the pair of you knew you had to speak to the other boys about it. You needed to talk to him.

The night of the intervention. The way he screamed and shouted at you all. He admitted to using but he didn’t do it quietly. The way Ross stepped in front of you in defence when he swore at you. Hann’s hand wrapped tightly around your own, George’s hand squeezing your shoulder in support as your brown eyes glossed over as you took in the man in front of you. He wasn’t your Matty and you hated looking at him like this.

You didn’t want to look at him at all and it broke your heart.

Slipping your finger into the envelope you finally tore it open, slipping out several pages of paper. You weren’t sure how long you were holding them before you actually unfolded them but it felt like a lifetime of contemplating before you managed to finally take a deep breath and compose yourself enough to read his words.

‘Darling,

As part of my recovery, I’ve been tasked to write a letter to everyone I’ve hurt and yours is the last one I’ve got to write. Not because you mean the least to me. Quite the opposite. Yours has been the hardest to write. Harder than Gabby. My Mam, Dad & Louis & the boys because you mean the absolute world to me.

This is actually the third time I’ve attempted to write this. Admitting that I’ve hurt you is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. You know what I’m like, I’m a stubborn twat at the best of times but I needed to do this because you deserve this apology probably the most.

You’ve never once judged me and the fucked up things I do when I’m on one. Since we were kids you’ve stuck by my side, defended me when I really didn’t deserve it and loved me endlessly from the sidelines and I’ve definitely not deserved your love but you gave me it anyway.

Do you remember that time we were on tour in 2014 and I was fucked up on coke for god knows how many days in a row and you couldn’t even be in the same room as me that day on the bus when I was on that god awful come down on the way to North Carolina?

Yet you still didn’t say no when I selfishly came crawling to your bunk to interrupt your peace and quiet with my tail between my legs, asking to come lie with you. You could have told me to piss off but you didn’t, you let me squish myself into your bunk and your arms and let me sleep off my hangover in your arms without complaining once. I would have complained but you didn’t, you let me and my cold hands snake their way into your personal space like I hadn’t gotten on your last nerve just ten minutes prior.

I’m quite a selfish person. You my darling are the most selfless person I know and I don’t deserve the good grace you’ve given me time and time again. Especially seeing as I dragged you along for the ride and then you’ve had to babysit me because I can’t control myself when it comes to drugs and showing off because I want everyone to like me.

You could have taken the tough love route, told me I’m a big fuck up and judged me for my drug use and tried to get me to stop (which probably would have have had the opposite effect out of defiance) but you didn’t. You silently kept an eye on me and made sure I didn’t end up killing myself. Until I took it too far.

I’ve seen you look at me with distaste over the years. Yet nothing compares to the way you looked at me that day you guys staged your intervention. I didn’t think you guys had noticed. I thought me and Miss H had this great big secret going on and I didn’t want to let any of you guys in on it because it would ruin what we had.

Yet you know me better than anyone. You and George both just knew that day. Of course you did. You’re my best friends. But you don’t know how happy I am the four of you staged that intervention and told me I needed to get my shit together.

When I think about the way I lashed out at you. The way your big brown eyes that usually sparkle with mischief when we’re with each other, glossed over as you just stood and took it and didn’t even raise your voice at me once. I can feel the lump in my throat tighten as I write this.

I deserved it you know. I deserved whatever fury was bubbling inside you because I was a class A cunt that day! I’m truly surprised Ross didn’t knock my head off and I wouldn’t have blamed him either if he had done!

I’m just so glad you did something because the thought of losing every single one of you shatters my soul so much, I would cease to exist without you.

I could sit here and write down the list of all things I’m sorry for but physically we don’t have the time or enough paper! But you should know that I am.

I’m sorry.

For everything.

I’m doing okay. The best I’ve been in a long time. The only way being here might get better is if you were here too.

I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I’m begging for it because the thought of you hating me and not being able to trust me anymore kills me.

You really an angel on this earth.

I don’t deserve you.

I love you.

Yours Matthew x

p.s I cannot wait to be reunited with your tits! I’ve missed them!

You let out a chortled laugh as you read through the last line of the letter. Your hands quickly making their way to your face as you wiped the tears that were streaming from your face. The cuffs of your hoodie wet from where you’ve tried to stop the flow of tears. Pressing the letter to your chest, you took a few deep breaths to try compose yourself before you left the confinements of your bedroom.

Hurriedly shoving the letter into your handbag, so there was no chance Michael could stumble across your letter. He didn’t like Matty as it was, you didn’t want to give him ammunition to say anything. You grabbed your car keys and rushed out of the house without a word to your boyfriend and heading straight to Hann’s.

2020

You had broken up with Michael.

The red flags should have been there from the start really. He always had less than nice words to say about you and your relationships with the boys. He didn’t have a lot of nice things to say in general but you were blinded by love and the man he was when you first met that you didn’t see the red flags being waved right in front of your face until your heart (and self confidence) were already broken.

Your brother didn’t like Michael, he thought there was something off about him from the off but you put it down to Ross doing his job as your big brother but his opinion didn’t waver once in the four years you were together. George never liked how possessive he was and the fact he became even more so and tried to stop you from speaking to him after he found out about your night together. Which just fyi happened three years prior to meeting him, so he (everyone) was flabbergasted as to why he was so bothered! Hann. Your sweet angel of a bestie had even voiced how he didn’t like him and he was never one to be rude which should have also been a clue you were dating a dickhead.

Then there was Matty. Matty hated him. The feelings were mutual. Michael had told you plenty of times over your four years together that he hated your best friend but he would never tell you why. Matty told you it was because ‘he was a twat who didn’t deserve you’. You were obliged to agree because that mother fucker cheated on you!

Multiple women across the last two years of your relationship.

To say you were stunned was an understatement yet it somehow made sense and fell into place so easily when you thought about it all. Yet that didn’t make it hurt any less. But a friend of yours sending you the evidence whilst you were on the last night of the UK tour was the final nail in the coffin that was your shitty relationship with him.

You weren’t sure who wanted to kill him more. Your brother? Matty? Or George? The three of them were raging amongst one another at their after party which should have been a celebration whilst Hann sat with his arms wrapped around you as you cried to him and Carly. You didn’t think anything would make you feel better apart from getting obliterated with your favourite people and forgetting about Michael and the impending doom that was about to be bestowed upon the entire world.

Matty was your saving grace.

Asked you to move in, without even hesitating. Naturally you said yes, sitting in your flat all by yourself whilst you cried over your douchebag of an ex during lockdown did not sound appealing to you. It was giving ‘Emma Pilssbury crying to Celine Dion in her car from Glee’ and you weren’t quite ready to hit that stage of your breakup depression just yet.

Two weeks turned into two months and then four months of lockdown but quite frankly you had never been happier. Living with Matty again, surprisingly was just as good the second time round if not easier. Except this time you weren’t poor, your kitchen roof wasn’t leaking and there was a 95% less drug taking which made your life a whole lot less stressful.

It was just easy with him. At some point whilst the world stood still, Matty and Tahliah broke up and then it really just was you two; doing your washing, fighting over who’s turn it was to use their club card during the weekly shop at Tesco and raising his (both of your’s) new dog, Mayhem.

The two of you had been getting ready to move into a studio tomorrow with George after four months of just the two of you playing house, the pair of them just itching to get back to work. You were aware that Matty had been writing already but you knew it would be full steam now Notes had been released and you wanted to make use of the time you had left just the two of you.

Only because you knew as soon as you got your hands on George. That was it! Not a chance Matty was getting any attention. You had missed your big friendly giant more than anything and you knew from your FaceTime with him last night whilst you couldn’t sleep that he was more than excited to see you too.

All three of you were sunbathing in the garden. Mayhem by your side as the two of you soaked up some much needed sun. The heatwave the UK was currently in the middle of was doing wonders for your skin. You had been lying in silence for the past thirty minutes, a book covering your face to block out the sun as you tried to read. Matty’s head in your lap as you presumed he was napping when you suddenly felt him turn over in your lap, now on his side and looking up at you.

Lifting the book ever so slightly, so you could peek underneath at him, you cocked an eyebrow as he watched you with a gentle gaze. “Yes?” Your tone rich with sarcasm as you stared back at him. “Anything actually going through that pretty head of yours Healy? What you thinking about?”

“Us.”

“Us?” You laughed. “What about us?”

“You remember my eighteenth birthday?” He asked; peering up at you with a soft smile.

“The party?” Matty nodded. “I remember Ross stopping me from getting with Max! Remember him? I was gutted!” You laughed. “Why?”

“You know that’s not what I meant?” Matty frowned slightly as he pouted at you.

“Of course I do.” You put your book down, your hands automatically reaching for what was left of his curls,“What about it?”

“You ever think about it?”

“Sometimes. Think we’ve done a fantastic job at keeping it from my brother! Especially with your big gob!” You smiled down at him as you ran your hand through his curls gently.

“Funny!” He sent a glare your way, causing you to laugh loudly at his attempt to be intimidating.

“What’s got you thinking about that kiss from a million years ago anyway?”

“Wanking material.” He somehow managed to say without cracking smile.

It was your turn to shoot him a glare at his crudeness. It wasn’t long though until he was grinning up at you from his place in your lap. You pushed his head away from you in fake annoyance. God you couldn’t stand him sometimes!

“Ohh come on darling. I hear you sometimes! We all do it, you’ve got to think of something!” Matty tried to lighten the mood.

“Yeah I think about G’s 23rd birthday.” You smirked. Your vibrator was good but it wasn’t George. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a good orgasm and thinking it might have been before Michael makes you want to cry. Your confession/kind of a joke caused the grin to fall from his face and you almost felt bad, knowing he doesn’t want to hear about the incredible night you had with George because if anyone asked him, he absolutely did not want to relive it.

“I’m joking!” Your hand reached for his curls again. “Seriously though, what’s got you reminiscing about it. It’s been a long time.”

“Just thinking about how much I love you is all.” His confession made you stop. “What would have happened if we’d said fuck it and we ended up together.”

“I don’t think Ross would have been too happy. You saw how mad he got about G!” You laughed nervously as you thought about stopping your brother from knocking his band mate out.

“He’d have gotten over it.” Matty was now leaning up on his arms, leaning forward to press a light kiss to your bikini clad torso before pressing several kisses in quick succession up your stomach until he was hovering over your chest and looking down at your face. “If we were happy, he’d have been happy. You know he would have been.”

His actions made you hold your breath. It being strangely intimate and probably the most intimate you’d been since you were teenagers. You wondered if he was actually going to kiss you again but he just looked down at you fondly.

“You know I’d do anything for you right?” You nodded. “You’re one of the only people who makes me truly happy. I’d literally go too far just you have you near. I’d go blind just to see you!”

You rolled your eyes at the dramatics of his statement but the sweet sentiment made you smile, you reached up to hold the side of his face in your hands. Your thumb sweeping over the apple of his left cheek. The pair of you just basking in the warmth of the sun and each other. Unsure how long you hadn’t said anything, Matty broke the silence in the most Matty way.

“Literally anything you need. I’ve got you for life sweetheart. A cuppa? A joint? An orgasm? I’m your man!”

A chortle left your mouth as he cheekily beamed down at you, waiting for what he knew would be a somewhat sarcastic response. He didn’t realise he’d really set himself up for what you were about to say.

“Don’t worry I’m good. I’m seeing G tomorrow!”

The way his eyes narrowed at you made you cackle even louder as he finally jumped up off you, to walk back inside without another word. “I’m sorry!” You laughed. “I promise not to shag George when I see him. I’m good with my vibrator I promise!” You manage to sputter out through your laughter. “Stick the kettle on whilst you’re in there love.” You shouted after him.

Matty threw you the middle finger over his shoulder which made you laugh even more as he went though the back door, Mayhem hot on his heels; knowing fine well he was going to put the kettle on and make you a brew just how you liked it because for as long as he can remember he’s never been able to say no to you and he didn’t think he’d ever will.

2023

The 1975 in Show and Concert was possibly your favourite tour that you’d been apart of with the boys. There was an accumulative of factors; the fact you weren’t the only girl on tour this time round, Carly had joined Adam with their son and Charli had come to as many shows as her own schedule permitted. You also had a little part to play at Matthew’s request (obviously!) donned in a white lab coat, you brought Matty a hot honey and lemon on stage every night and pottered about with the rest of the crew, making sure your brother and the rest of the band were all good before slipping off to watch the rest of the show from backstage.

Or it could have been that you and Matty were closer than ever. Ever since lockdown and the pair of you had been living together, everything seemed so simple that since restrictions were lifted, you just carried on living together. I think when George removed the last box of things from your old flat to take to Matty’s did it for him, that he just shook his head with a laugh.

“You guys really are an old married couple!” He chuckled; slamming the boot close and jumping in the car before you could get a word in edgeways.

He wasn’t wrong, you guys did essentially everything together apart from have sex. Not that you hadn’t thought about it. Somewhere between moving into the studio with him and George and then your brother and Hann joining them to start recording their fifth studio album. You hadn’t shagged anyone in over a year and there was only so many times you could use your vibrator before you got bored and there wasn’t a cat’s chance in hell you were ordering a new toy to the studio because Matty didn’t have boundaries and absolutely would have opened it before you could even get the chance to get your hands on it.

You had also promised after day one; after one too many jokes and essentially mounting George at any given moment just to have him near you that you wouldn’t sleep with him. Even though a repeat of his birthday from seven years prior was literally so so temping to you! So what the hell were you going to do? The thought of dating apps made you want to vomit and hanging about bars really didn’t seem that appealing.

But Matty being Matty; was being overly affectionate one night after one too many glasses of red after a show, had the two of you giggling like teenagers and wondering if the two of you had gotten better at kissing since Matty’s 18th. Curiosity getting the better of the both of you, had you surging towards one another in a flurry of horniness after the kiss, was how you found yourself straddling his lap and snogging him like your life depended on it! Until you physically had to pull away to get your breath back and a rush of sense flashed through your brain. The two of you went to bed separately.

Neither of you spoke about it again.

Nor did you ever think about how the two of you were always drawn to each other no matter what shit storm was going on around you until now. You were just tying up the end of the UK leg of the tour, you and the band were in Ireland and Jamie had just told you that *The Scum* were running a horrendous article about Matty. This had in turn resulted in an argument after their penultimate show between the boys.

You knew he did things in the heat of the moment whilst he’s on stage or says shit without thinking and it comes to bite him in the arse almost every time but he’d never do what they’re accusing him of on purpose.

But seeing your brother hurt by Matty’s stupid actions; the repercussions for not just himself but for the rest of the band, your brother, yourself just by association. It was enough for you to step in, in defence of your brother. He came before everyone else, every single time.

This you didn’t realise; had as big of an effect until you were stood frozen on stage in front of your brother, Matty in between you and Ross. Apologising to him, crying in front of thousands of people. How Ross hadn’t broke the facade and took him in his arms was beyond you because your brother’s face was currently blurry to you and he was stood a foot in front of you. Tears filled your brown eyes and were threatening to spill as Matty let his vulnerable side show in front of everyone. Something he never does.

You had done so well until he apologised once more; removing his hand from Ross’s arm and reaching behind him blindly to grab on to you. The tears automatically fell; the action enough to make Ross twitch in an ache to comfort you. Something he couldn’t do until the band had come off stage at the end of consumption.

After the final song of tour; the boys usually head on out for the after party. Tonight you had Matty back at the hotel in your room on his knees and begging for you.

Begging for you to not leave him. Begging for you not to move out. Begging for you to stay by his side. Begging for you to still love him.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked down at the man in front of you; on his knees as his hands grasped at your legs, pulling you close as he hugged you as physically close as possible as he sobbed against your legs. Instinctively you reached for his curls, running your fingers through them softly.

“Baby. Look at me.” The softness of his curls tickled your thighs as he stayed pressed against you. “Matthew. Darling look at me.”

You managed to loosen his grip enough to slide down on to your knees in front of him, taking a hold of his face in your hands as you eyes flitted across his face, smiling softly at him as he tried to calm himself down.

“I can’t lose you. I can’t lose any of you.” He shook his head, curls flying in front of his face. “But I can’t lose you darling. I can’t.”

“Matthew. Look at me. Why do you think you’re going to lose me? You’re never going to lose me. You’re kinda stuck with me!” You laughed. “And even if I decided to fuck off, my brother being your bassist kind of means I’m stuck with you anyway.” The grip on his face got tighter as his hands reached up to hold on to your wrists.

“But last night…”

“Ross and I just want you to use your brain sometimes before you do stupid shit! You’ve not lost either of us. I promise.”

“Promise?”

Your heart jumped into your throat at the swell of tears in his eyes and his lip quiver.

“Life. That’s how long you’ve got me for Healy. Promise.” As soon as you stopped speaking; Matty threw himself at you, arms around your neck and squeezing you so tightly you nearly stopped breathing. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you” Being repeated in your ear over and over as you squeezed him back, pressing your lips to the side of his face in consecutive kisses until he abruptly pulled away. Eyes red and looking at you so softly you thought he was going to cry again.

“I love you.”

“I love you too. You know I do.” You smiled at him warmly.

“No. It’s always been you.” He said as he reached for your hands and it felt like you had been hit in the chest. The sting of tears trickling up your face and threatening to fill your eyes as you silently took him in. You went to open your mouth but nothing came out.

“I know I always talk too much but just listen to me. I love you. Since we were kids I reckon, I was just too chicken to ever do anything. When you kissed me on my 18th birthday. When you saw I needed help, you saved my life sending me to rehab. Every day, I thought about getting home to you. It’s what got me through every day. You make me a better man darling. When you take my shit when I don’t deserve it. When you make me a brew in the morning just how I like it. When you roll me a joint when you realise I’m too tense and in my head without me even having to ask. When you tell me to shut the fuck up before a situation escalates. When we go to big Tesco and walk the dog or do all the washing together. I fucking live for that shit because it’s with you. Fuck I’ve been writing songs about you for the past decade! You are intertwined with every era of this band sweetheart. I mean 60% of the last album is about you! ” He chuckled softly.

“What?” Managed to escape you in a gasp.

“Come on sweetheart. Some of this music has literally been out for ten years!”

“I - Just never - Why have you never said anything before now?” Your voice horse with frustration.

“I love your brother too much. But thinking I’d lost the two of you, just made me think fuck it. You deserve to know. You need to know.” Matty shrugged casually.

“That’s stupid.” Your deadpan tone, stunning him silent.

“Sorry?”

“Wasn’t it you that said to me that if Ross knew I was happy. That we were happy he wouldn’t care. He’d have gotten over it? And you’ve just subliminally been telling me you love me through music this entire time?”

“Yes?”

You cocked an eyebrow at his hesitation, the questioning tone as your eyes flit across his handsome features. Cheeks tinged with pink due to his tears, his chest falling up and down rapidly at his confession as he awaited you answer. You still didn’t say anything, thinking about how to respond until you found the perfect response.

Surging forward you pushed your lips against Matty’s. Hands reaching for the curls you loved so much. Waiting for him to reciprocate felt like a life time but your Matthew was well equipped in the art of kissing you back so realistically it was 0.2 seconds after he had gotten over the shock.

You kissed him over and over again, not wanting to stop the feeling of how your lips moved against his, how his tongue felt against yours. You felt like you were on fire, he was intoxicating. He always was but fuck was he more than ever. Finally finding the strength to untangle yourself from him, chests heaving as you both got oxygen back in your lungs you said the words, the way he’d been wishing to hear for the past sixteen years.

“I love you too.”

When he was finally seen in public two days later on the eve of their Gorilla gig in Manchester. The fans noticed Matty was in higher spirits than he had been two days prior when his breakdown was caught on camera. You had been nervous to tell your brother but Ross claimed he already knew Matty was in love with you, he was just waiting to see if he’d actually grow some balls or not! Then he hugged you so tightly and whispered he was happy for the both of you, which in turn had you and Matty crying backstage in their green room as you found yourself in a 1975 sandwich!

You don’t think you had seen Matty look so happy on stage in a long time. He loved touring but it was gruelling but seeing him on stage in this tiny venue with his best friends and his girl watching and waiting for him side stage. He couldn’t stop beaming. The fans noticed, the comments already flying in online about him. They increased tenfold when he jumped offstage, not waiting the ten second walk backstage before kissing you like his life depended on it.

The blurry picture of Matty holding your jaw in his hands as he kissed you in the shadows of the stage was on a 1975 update account within minutes.

Captioned: If you know you know. Finally 🖤

You were obliged to agree.

#Matty Healy #matty healy imagine #matty healy fic #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 imagine #the 1975 fic #the 1975 x reader #George Daniel #george daniel imagine #Adam Hann #adam hann imagine #Ross MacDonald #ross macdonald imagine

726 notes · View notes

cowboylor · 1 year

Text

with a sea view

george chokes you with a sea view.

wc: 2k

warnings: (18+) smut, piv, unprotected sex, overstimulation, light choking, implied alcohol consumption, reader has been bit by the horny bug.

note: welcome to my island, bitch! i’m not happy with this and its not *fully* edited but... its here? who cheered.

While George fumbles with the key you fumble with the buckle of his belt.

Half-heartedly unbuckling it and pulling his waistband closer to you as you attack his skin with your mouth. You can still taste the salt water on his skin as you press harsh kisses along his jawline. Your mouth trails down his neck as he mumbles out a curse and you pause to giggle at his tough luck with unlocking the door.

But then seconds pass and you’re at it again. Attacking his sharp jaw and clinging to him as he tightly wraps an arm around your waist.

There’s no other way to say it: you’re intoxicated with him.

And yes, this is partially due to the overpriced wine that was served at dinner and the sun that you’ve been basking under all day. But really, it’s mostly your boyfriend’s fault for making you this delirious.

He quietly chuckles at your wandering hands that grip his white-collar button. Half of the buttons are already open but he lets you prod at his shirt before the card finally cooperates. Then he’s guiding you into the room (in a valiant effort to at least get you through the door), murmuring a low “I got you, baby.”

But the words trail off when your lips meet his and you’re kicking the door closed behind you while fervently guiding him back into bed. The kiss is broken when the backs of his knees clash with the mattress.

You stare at him for a few seconds, gazing down at his swollen lips and slightly amused expression. Your eyes wander to his bare chest and linger there. He takes a moment to stare up at you with curiosity, quirking his eyebrow to internally ask what has gotten you worked up to this point.

“Our waitress couldn’t stop staring at you.”

Ah. There it is.

You’re out of breath, rushing, and already pulling at your sundress.

George hums. And for a moment he watches as you slip the straps down your shoulders before reaching out to grab your hips. Your ragged breathing nears silent as he pulls you closer to him. His thumb fiddles with the thin fabric of your dress as he looks up at you.

“I–” He emphasizes by drawing small circles into your skin. “–couldn’t stop staring at you.”

His eyes pour into yours and your face warms. Shaking your head bashfully, you say, “I’m serious.”

You bring your hands up to his shoulders, grazing your fingertips just below his collarbones (if anything, as an excuse to trace ‘broken’ letter by letter).

“So am I,” He tests the waters by pressing a short kiss to your lips, chuckling as you whine at the simplest touch from him. You lean into him, practically draping yourself over his thigh to kiss him again. “Needy thing, aren’t you?”

You glare but are quick to get over it when he trails his lips down the crook of your neck. Gasping as he bites at your skin and screwing your eyes shut when he fingers dig into your skin.

He circles his thumb against your hip and you’re hot everywhere.

“Feel free to breathe, love.”

You huff. “I’m not needy.”

You need him everywhere.

Your voice wavers into a whine when he sucks on the spot just above your collarbone. He hums into your neck, clearly not fighting you on it. You glance down to watch his arms tighten around you. His skin is already turning gold, you realize. Not even two days into your vacation.

He’s quick to bring you down on the mattress with him, shifting so he’s hovering over you. His lips trace down your breasts as you shove the rest of your dress down your legs. Then you’re wrapping yourself into him, trapping him with your legs and whimpering as his mouth travels lower.

When he pulls away, you’re quick to tighten your legs around his waist as if to show you’re not budging on letting him go.

George huffs a laugh. “Don’t you wanna enjoy our view?”

At first, you’re not sure what he’s referring to. But you follow his line of gaze, tipping your head back towards the open, beach-view window.

Narrowing your eyes, you shift back to him: “I am the view.”

“While I can’t argue with that,” He pulls away from your entanglement, helping you flip over onto your stomach, before reaching to guide your chin in the direction of the nook. “I want to see this view. ”

He’s quick to pull you up on your hands and knees, keeping one hand on your lower back while letting his other wander away from your chin and linger on the base of your neck.

Your stomach coils. “Oh.”

You press yourself against him, practically mewling as he tugs at the band of your underwear.

“Relax for me,” George says, gently pressing his hand to your lower back. You’re quick to obey. He breathes out a low “good girl” when you arch your back.

You can feel him shifting his weight behind you and the friction from his crotch leaving you while he pumps himself a few times in his hand. Looking out the window, you wince at the setting sun and the bright hue that stares back at you.

When his hands return to tightly grab at your waist, you jump.

“Pretty?” He asks, following your line of sight.

Resisting the urge to push against him again, you swallow roughly. “So pretty.”

He brings his hand up to hold your jaw in place. “The prettiest.”

You bury your face into the comforter when he pushes his cock into you, his name spilling out of your mouth as your hands shoot forward to clutch the sheets.

He’s deep. He’s so deep that you already feel heat pooling in your lower body and your legs begin to twitch at the pressure. You whine his name into the bed and then whine louder when he experimentally pulls out to push his hips forward again.

“You’re fucking tight,” He hisses through his teeth as he pulls your hips against his.

Your eyes struggle to stay open and all you can think about is just how good he’s stretching you. With your back curved and his fingertips now ghosting over the base of your neck, you think–This. This is what it’s supposed to feel like.

He lifts your head by your hair. “Alright, love?”

“Please,” You almost immediately beg.

“Feel good?”

You groan impatiently, balling up fabric in your hands and screwing your eyes shut. “George.”

He leans over to toy with your breasts and grins. “You like my name.”

Your mind blurs as he runs his fingertips to graze your nipples.

“I–” Your brow furrows as your body shudders. “–like your cock.”

His hips slap against yours, eliciting his name from your mouth again.

“What I’m good for, yeah?” He teases.

His motions are exaggerated, fucking into you roughly as you notice the hue of the room begins to turn orange. The sun is setting and everything is golden.

“My girl.” He mutters as he ruts back into you. “My fucking girl.”

Your mind is distracted and you feel hotter by the second but it still makes you light when he says it. You’re his girl.

His other hand rests on your hips, his fingers digging into the side of your ass: “Always taking me so well.”

You moan out when his fingers ghost over your chin, your walls clenching around him when he applies more pressure. He’s always been in tune with you; he wraps his hand around your neck.

His hips stutter when he feels you tighten around him, gasping in short intervals. You know you’re close when your body starts to feel like the hue of the room.

You begin to protest as he pulls out and taps your hip, motioning for you to roll back over. Burying your head back into the mattress, you stubbornly shake your head, reaching out behind you to touch him.

A light spank to your behind makes you yelp and you quickly look over your shoulder in slight disbelief. He looks almost sheepish at your expression, before chuckling and saying, “Don’t be a brat.”

Huffing, you reluctantly flip back over, pressing your back into the bed as he maneuvers your leg over his shoulder. You watch his arms as he does it, letting your eyes wander down his tattoos and veins until you settle on watching his hands grip your ankles as he bends you.

This is your view.

You’re practically nose and nose and you almost say something snarky to relieve the vulnerability of it all. But instead, you let him kiss you sweetly before snapping his hips back in with yours.

Your head falls back at this angle. “Holy shit.”

Deep, deep, deep.

“George,” Your voice comes out pitchy. “Baby.”

His brow furrows when he looks at your winced expression. How you’re begging for him through pursed lips and ragged gasps that have you arching off the mattress to meet him halfway.

His hand drops down between your legs. “I know.”

You whine as he toys with your clit, your body alternating between wanting to escape the stimulation and leaning into his fingers even more.

Biting your lip, you plead, “I need you.”

“I’ve got you,” His mouth brushes over yours and warmth washes over when he quickens his pace. He curses lowly when he feels you clench around him. “Let me have it.”

You’re coming undone, practically numb as he grows sloppier with his thrusts and his breaths go ragged in the crook of your neck. But even as you’re tightening around him and growing more sensitive every time he lazily bucks into you, you reach out to touch his chest, dazed and mumbling, “Don’t pull out.”

His forehead falls against yours at this. “Fuck.”

He’s still inside you, breathing in your hair like he won’t be coming down anytime soon. But when he finally does peer down at you, you can’t help but trace your fingertips along the growing red splotch bridged across his nose.

You crack a smile. “You’re burnt.”

He huffs out a laugh, dipping his head down again so he’s nudging against your jaw as he presses a soft kiss to your skin.

“I just fucked you dumb and all you can say is how sunburned I am?”

“’Fucked me dumb.’” You repeat with a snort.

Sly grins grace your faces as you wrap your arms around his neck.

After a pause, you quip, “I was enjoying the sea view.”

“Is that what you girls are calling it these days?” He smirks.

He lets you pull him closer as you debate whether or not to wrap your legs around his waist to have him be closer–closer than he already is and closer than he has ever been.

“Nope,” You hum. “I’m the only one.”

#george daniel x reader #george daniel imagine #the 1975 imagine #george daniel smut #this might be the nail in the coffin im in my smut flop era #the 1975 imagines #*my writing

312 notes · View notes

abiiors · 1 year

Text

In Stages

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

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

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

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

wc: 6k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘This is disgusting!’

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

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

Ask you to set him up with her.

And then ask her to be his girlfriend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instead, you stumble.

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

He’s not drunk but you definitely are.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Make me?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘And the others are coming too?’

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

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

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

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

And just like that, he comes hurtling down.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘And why haven’t you told her?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Hayden.’

‘Whatever.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘You’re a miserable asshole!’

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

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

George is fucking miserable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That makes him laugh despite himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s how everything comes out.

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

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

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

But later isn’t here yet.

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

242 notes · View notes