#george daniel blurb

[alovesreading]

Nice Kind Of Messy

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

Word Count: 16.7k 

Warnings: smut.

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

Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“George, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But despite your words, he stops.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So fucking sweet. He needed more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m fucking you now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckles smugly, “I know you will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[abiiors]

request time 👀

george teaching reader how to smoke a joint for the first time, at the same time she’s matty’s little sister so is a secret relationship. I love a bit of drama

first time

some amazing blogs on here, @ughgoaway and @shinycollarboneapologist have already done the brother's best friend trope so i really urge you to go check out their fics as well. in the meantime... have fun 🤭💕

warning: weed obv and that's it i guess.

oh, btw... this is who you are thinking about. this is who this fic is about <33 (both gifs by @pleasedontbenaked i genuinely fucking hope the credit thing works 😭)

“andrew? really?” george stands at the bottom of the stairs looking down at her, one perfect eyebrow raised high. “you went to that twat for weed?”

oh. 

her eyes widen at the mention of the w word. george is a fucking idiot—she knew that obviously, all her brother’s friends are idiots—but she didn’t know he would be stupid enough to just blurt it out in the house with her parents within earshot. 

involuntarily she moves, slapping her hand on his mouth and harshly tugging on his wrist. “shut up! not here!”

george does nothing but raise the other eyebrow while slowly lowering his gaze to her hand. it’s on his mouth. touching his lips. mortifyingly enough, she comes to that realisation a second after he does and yanks her hand away as if he’s burned it. 

george smirks. because what else do insufferable 20 year old boys do? but he lets her tug him to her bedroom and slam the door shut. 

“yes. andrew.” she glares at him once she’s sure there’s no one eavesdropping. “are you gonna tell matty?”

because he would tell her brother as if she were a child. she’s 18, has been an adult for 2 months now but of course, to george (and ross and adam) she will always be their best friend’s little sister. the thought stings a bit when she looks up at george who’s cavalierly leaning against her door. 

his arms are crossed in front of his chest, biceps and colourful tattoos on full display because of the tank top he’s wearing. she would never admit to this out loud, but she has certainly looked at the tattoos (and the arms) on more than one more occasion. 

still the fact remains. george is insufferable—just like his little all-knowing smirk. 

“now why would i snitch?” he drawls out and then pushes himself off the door. something has piqued his interest. “what do you want it for?”

she can’t help the snark and sass that rises up within her at that. “for a science experiment. what do you think i want it for?”

george rolls his eyes. “okay, smartarse. maybe i should go tell—”

she tugs on his arm a second time to stop him, effectively stopping him mid-sentence. like an idiot, she’s taken the bait. 

george laughs when she groans into her hands. it’s a deep and rich sound; one that skitters down her spine… no! stop. focus. 

“if you simply must know…” she glares, “my friends and i are trying it for the first time. at a sleepover. they asked if i could get some since, you know, matty’s practically a stoner at this point. but he’s also a little shit.” then she raises her chin primly, “i would never buy from him.”

“and so you went to andrew…” 

“and so i went to andrew.”

george snickers. “you know he keeps his little baggies in his pants, right? like literally in his pants?”

she, in fact, did not know that. and judging by some more snickering, she can tell her face has turned a nasty shade of green. brief as it may have been, she absolutely did touch the little baggie andrew had discretely shoved into her hands. and now she needs to immediately dunk herself into a vat of sanitizer. 

george seems to have taken pity on her, though, because his features soften and the smirk turns into a small smile. 

“so you’re all planning to get high together for the first time?”

is this an attempt at small talk? why would he even try? still, if he’s trying to be civil, she can respond in kind. 

“...yes. for the first time.”

“do you even know what to expect?”

that makes her roll her eyes. it might be her first time, sure, but she’s not fully oblivious. “i have seen all of you blitzed out of your mind, george. i think i know what to expect.”

“so you don’t actually know what you’re doing.”

she's about to protest but he's already on the move. she watches with her mouth agape as george saunters towards her bed, examining all her little trinkets on the way. he runs his hands on the books on her bedside table, on the cds she neatly keeps on her shelves. there are posters on her walls—bowie, queen, the rolling stones, among others. then there are photos with her friends and her parents, another one where matty is 15 and she’s 12, in pigtails and grinning at the camera while matty does his edgy, angsty teenager grimace. 

there’s also a polaroid she took of the band rehearsing. matty looks like he’s in the middle of tuning his guitar. adam is looking off-camera and ross is texting on his phone. but george…george is sitting against the wall. arms behind his head and drumsticks still in his hands. his jaw is slightly tilted up, jawline sharp enough to cut. he looks like he’s trying to figure something out while the rest of them goof around. 

she remembers that day so clearly; remembers how excited matty was to show her a song they’d been working on. she remembers george smiling at her when she complimented the song. 

george throws himself onto her bed, yanking her out of her thoughts. 

“sit,” he motions at a spot next to him as if this weren’t her room and her bed. 

“what…”

“i said, sit,” he repeats, “i’m not going to let you walk into the unknown with your idiot friends.”

several questions rise up, along with indignation at him for calling her friends idiots. she’s about to ask them all in one breath but he shuts her up with one look and takes his wallet out. 

oh no… oh no no no. 

“absolutely fucking not!” it almost comes out as a shout but she manages to turn it into a whisper at the last minute. “are you insane, george? my brother is literally in his bedroom!”

“relax, darling,” he drawls out as if none of this is concerning to him. and continues taking out a bit of rolling paper and a baggie of weed from his wallet. “your brother thinks i’ve gone home.” 

this is somehow even more concerning information. what happens when matty hears them and barges into her room to check—it’s not like he knows the concept of knocking anyway. 

also he’s just called her darling…

“but—”

“you’re overthinking,” he interrupts. “focus now. i’m teaching you how to roll a joint.”

times like these, she wishes she could simply whack him on the head, preferably with one of her hardcovers. but the rolling paper in front of her is intriguing, to say the least. and as much as she wants to be annoyed, she knows she can at least trust him to guide her through her first time. 

“if you get me in trouble, george, i swear…”

“i won’t,” he places a hand on his chest and looks at her intently, “i promise.”

gingerly, tentatively, she sits in front of him; legs crossed and eyes firmly on the things in front of her. 

“now this is what you want to do…” he picks up the paper and curves it slightly between his fingers. his forehead is creased in concentration, lips parted slightly while he continues to talk about the joint. her focus, however, has already wandered. 

his fingers are deftly working away—adding in a good amount of weed and putting the tip in. her eyes wander over his hands—knuckles in the process of healing still like they always are. she used to think he got into a lot of fights until she found out that they were a result of the drumming. and then she couldn’t stop thinking about him, sweaty and tank top clinging to him…maybe even shirtless…as he worked on the latest song. 

god she was a fucking cliche for thinking about her brother’s best friend like this. utterly basic and unoriginal. 

george snaps his fingers in front of her face. 

“where d’you wander off to?”

“um–ah…what? sorry,” she mumbles quickly and averts her gaze to where he’s half-sprawled on her bed. long, graceful limbs and all. 

“focus, darling,” he chastises in a stern voice and the neurons in her brain instantly misfire. “now look.”

he picks up the paper with the weed in it and expertly rolls it while leaving some space at the end, twists the top and then as if it’s nothing, he licks the end—slow and deliberate and keeping his eyes on her—before finally sticking it shut. 

if the neurons had misfired before, they have completely shut down now. she doesn’t even register it when she swallows roughly, eyes wide and trained on his mouth which slowly curls into a smirk once again. 

“like what you see?” he asks and then cheekily adds, “the joint, i mean. it’s pretty perfect, isn’t it?”

“mm-hmm”

“should we smoke it?” 

“uhh…” her voice is barely even a whisper, thoughts hardly coherent. he wants to smoke it with her? “now?”

“no time like the present.” then he sits up properly. “wait, have you at least smoked a fag before?”

she nods mutely and clears her throat, “once.”

“ooohhh. thought you were a good girl, healy…”

she blushes deeply then; absolutely unable to meet his eyes after that. heat spreads over her face and fuck it...but there’s no coming back from this now. god, he’s going to know about her embarrassing teenage crush and he’s going to tell matty about it and matty will not let her live it down. 

she almost wants to cry out but he’s not done torturing her. because a second later he takes his lighter out and holds it under the joint. 

“want to shotgun first?”

“um…uh…”

speak, you fucking idiot, her brain screams at her but unfortunately, it does not seem connected to her mouth at the moment. he’s going to know that she’s short-circuiting. he’s going to know how flustered he makes her. 

fuck fuck fuck 

“unless you don’t want—”

“yes,” she interrupts quickly. because the thought of not doing it is so much worse than shotgunning george. 

“come closer, then. and open your mouth.”

he curves his palm around the flame to stop it from going out; joint resting lazily between his lips before he hollows his cheeks and takes a drag of it. the smoke rests in his mouth for a second or two before he leans forward; almost as if he’s about to kiss her. 

the blood in her veins flows at the speed of light, her heart is thumping so fast that it’s a surprise he hasn’t heard it yet. he’s so close… he’s never been this close before. she’s never seen the exact colour of his eyes this clearly before or felt his hair tickle her face. 

then he parts his lips and blows out the smoke in her mouth. a long exhale and a sharp intake of breath from her. his gaze dips to her lips before returning to her eyes. she imagines she’s done the same because a moment later his eyes are back on her mouth. 

the smoke spreads through her body, warm and earthy, and slowly makes its way to her head. there���s a brief flash of panic and hesitation but she pushes it away. 

then she leans closer.  

----

(yes i'm ending it there for evil reasons)

[whimsicalpolitical]

Dad George letting baba sleep in their bed when they can’t sleep or when your away and baba misses you 🥺🥺🥺

omg so cute!!

It’s 2 a.m. and the house is quiet except for the soft click of George’s fingers on his laptop. He’s sitting up in bed, back propped against the headboard, a dim glow lighting up his face.

There’s a soft sigh as he shifts slightly, glancing at his phone, half-hoping to see a message from you. You’re away on a business trip—have been for a few days—and it’s hitting him harder than he expected.

He runs a hand through his hair, trying to focus, but his mind keeps drifting back to how much easier things feel when you’re here. Even with the late nights, the endless to-do lists, and your little whirlwind of a daughter.

The door creaks open.

George freezes, eyes darting to the doorway. He sees his three year old standing there, little fists rubbing her eyes, hair a mess from tossing and turning. Her bottom lip is trembling, and when she speaks, her voice is small, broken.

“Mommy back?”

“No, darling,” he says gently, crouching down to meet her eye. “Mommy’s still away. C’mere.”

She waddles toward him, her little legs unsteady from sleep, and George scoops her up without hesitation. The moment she’s in his arms, she hides her face in the crook of his neck, her tiny body trembling with quiet sobs.

“Miss Mommy,” she whimpers, her voice muffled against his skin, and George’s heart just about shatters.

“I know, love, I know,” he murmurs, his voice soft as he rubs her back in slow, soothing circles. “We both do, yeah? Miss her loads. But she’ll be back soon. You know how she is—always off saving the world or whatever. Proper superhero, your mum.”

He says it with a soft laugh, trying to lighten the mood, but it’s clear she’s not having it. Her little fingers curl into his t-shirt, holding on for dear life, her sobs still shaking her tiny frame.

George feels utterly helpless for a moment, wishing he had your magic touch to make it better. But instead, he sits down on the edge of the bed with her in his arms, holding her close.

“Hey, hey, look at me, love,” he says, pulling back just a bit to try and catch her gaze. She sniffles and glances up, her big, tear-filled eyes locking onto his. “You know what we’ll do when Mommy gets back? First thing?”

She blinks, waiting for him to answer.

“We’ll go get ice cream, yeah? Big ones. With sprinkles. And we’ll tell her all about how brave you’ve been while she’s been away. Deal?”

Her bottom lip quivers, but she nods slowly, her tears slowing down a little. George grins, giving her a playful nudge with his nose.

“That’s my girl,” he says, kissing the top of her head. “See, you’re a proper little trooper, aren’t ya? Just like your mum. Bet she’s missin’ you just as much. Probably sat in some boring meeting right now, thinking about your cheeky little face.”

“Mommy miss me?”

“Course she does,” George says, his voice soft but firm. “She loves you to the moon and back, you know that. And so do I. But until she’s back, you’ve got me. And I’m pretty fun, right? Bit cooler than Mum, even.” He flashes her a cheeky grin, raising an eyebrow.

Her lip trembles again, but this time there’s a tiny smile trying to break through.

“There it is,” George coos, tapping the tip of her nose with his finger. “Knew I’d get a smile out of you. Now, come on. How about we tuck you back into bed, and I’ll stay with you ‘til you’re asleep? Sound good?”

She hesitates, still gripping his shirt. “In daddy’s bed,” she mumbles, burying her face in his neck again.

George’s chest tightens, and he hugs her a little closer. “Alright, alright, I’ve got you, we can stay here.” He shifts, laying down on the bed with her still in his arms, tucking her in against his side. “Just you and me, okay?”

She nods, her breathing finally starting to even out as she snuggles into him, her little hand resting on his chest.

“When does mommy come back?”

He sighs quietly, squeezing her just a bit tighter, hoping to keep the sadness out of his voice. “In a few days, love. Not too long now.”

She goes quiet for a moment, and George hopes that answer will be enough. But then he feels her shift, her small face pressing deeper into his chest, her voice trembling.

“Few days is too long...” she whispers, and George can feel her starting to unravel again.

Her breath hitches, and before the tears come, George is already moving, wrapping his arm around her a little more firmly.

“Hey, hey, none of that now,” he murmurs, his voice soothing, gentle. “I know it feels like forever, but I promise it’s not. Just a few more sleeps and she’ll be right here. Back home. And you know what? She’ll be so happy to see you. She’ll probably cover you in kisses, won’t even let me get one in.”

Your daughter makes a small sound—half a sniffle, half a little laugh—but George can feel the tension in her still, the way her tiny fists stay curled against his shirt, like she’s holding on to him for dear life.

He shifts, pulling her up onto his chest so he can look her in the eye, brushing her damp curls away from her face.

“Listen, love. I know it’s hard when she’s not here. It’s hard for me too.” He pauses, letting that sink in. “But she’s always comin’ back, yeah? Always. And until she does, you’ve got me. I’m right here.”

She sniffles, her lip trembling again, and George’s heart aches seeing the sadness in her eyes. “But I want her now,” she mumbles, and he can hear how close she is to breaking.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he says softly, cupping her cheek with his hand. “But let’s think about all the things we can tell her when she’s back, yeah? You’ll have so many stories to share—how you helped Daddy with all the really important stuff like… not burning the toast. You’re keeping me in line, aren’t you?”

She doesn’t say anything, just looks at him with those wide, watery eyes. George can feel her tears threatening to spill over again, so he leans in and presses a soft kiss to her forehead, his voice dropping to that low, comforting tone that usually works when nothing else does.

“But until then, how about we stay here and cuddle, just you and me, a proper daddy and daughter time. You can even sleep in the big bed here whenever you want to.”

She blinks up at him, considering, the tears still threatening but her grip loosening just a little. “Tonight?” she asks, her voice small but hopeful.

“Yeah, love. Right here with me,” George says, his heart softening as he tucks the blanket around her. “You’re safe with me. I won’t let go, I promise.”

He watches her relax just a little more, her body sinking into his as the warmth of the blanket and his steady voice start to calm her down.

“And how about pancakes for breakfast, hm? We can even invite uncle matty and his little one, how’s that sound?”

“Good.”

Her lips twitch into a smile, and it’s enough to ease the tension in George’s chest. He watches as her eyes start to close again, her fingers still holding onto his shirt but with less desperation this time.

“Love you, Daddy,” she whispers, her voice thick with sleep.

George’s chest tightens with an overwhelming sense of love as he presses one last kiss to her forehead. “Love you too, sweetheart. It’s already a bit too late for a little one like you, gorgeous, sleep.”

He feels her breathing slow, her little body finally giving in to the exhaustion, and as she drifts off, he stays there with her, rubbing her back gently, his own eyes closing.

It’s not the same without you here, but for tonight, this is enough.

[tillthelandslide]

can i get uhh uhh like something sappy as shit with george like pure gross lovey dovey boyfriend and girlfriend shit maybe with a little bit of matty clowning on them for it cuz they’re in public or like maybe not in public but they’re not alone yk like a small party or gathering or on a tour bus but yeah touchy feely giggly romance please

So....

George had been showing you around the venue, taking you into secret rooms you would never have thought even existed, before he was directing you to the stage where people had began setting up the set you knew all to well.

"And this is where the magic happens" George's deep voice resonates around the room and you feel pride swell in your chest as you look at him. A huge smile rested against his lips and you watched as he nodded and smiled at the people working on stage.

You take in the drum kit behind him, smiling and imagining your boyfriend drumming like his life depended on it, a sight that never failed to make you happy, get you excited and fill you with pride all at once.

You walk over to the kit, the tall man following suite. Your fingers graze over the individual drums, lightly tapping them, noticing the difference in sound. You always tried to engage in conversation about music with George, wanting to show you were genuinely interested in what he did for a living, knowing it was the most important thing to him (save from you). The drummer had taught you a fair bit of jargon and he always felt proud when you offloaded it on his friends, them looking impressively at you as you did.

You sit at the kit and pick up the drum sticks to the side of it, your thumbs feeling the engraves of his name, something that makes you smile.

"Can I get a set of these?" You ask and he nods, moving behind you, hands resting on your shoulders.

"This ones a snare" you say and George nods as he smirks, listening intently to you as if he didn't (obviously) know. He leans down, all be it a bit awkwardly, to place a kiss to your cheek, nuzzling into your neck.

"Carry on babe" he says and you do.

"This is a hi-hat" you say, lowering your foot onto the leaver and allowing them to snap together.

"Good girl" he says with a soft kiss to your neck.

"cymbals of course" you say, lightly hitting them as to not cause too much ruckus.

"Scoot forward" he demands making you giggle, you knew he wouldn't fit behind you so you shouldn't have been surprised when, as soon as you lift your bum to move forward, the tall man holds you there until he's sat on the stool, lowering you until your resting in his lap.

"Go on" he says but you shake your head.

"Show me how to play something" you say, turning slightly to view your boyfriend, easily getting distracted by his handsome face.

"Okay beautiful" he says, lightly holding your hands in his. He runs through your favorite song, keeping it simple and only teaching you little bits at a time. He allows you to do parts on your own and takes over on others, the both of you working as a team, until eventually you're being disturbed by Matthew.

"Well isn't this cute" he says the both of you looking to where his voice came from, across the stage, walking towards you with Jamie.

"You guys are just adorable aren't you?" He asks, a slightly playfulness to his voice.

"Jealous Healy?" You ask, making George laugh behind you.

"Careful love' he says, "ratty might get annoyed at us" George says with a kiss to your cheek, speaking loud enough for Matty to hear.

"Ha Ha" Matty chuckles sarcastically "stop being all lovely dovey, we've got a sound check to do" Matty says making you turn to George and a pout.

"Sorry love" George says, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to your mouth.

Safe to say, although you then leave George to do his soundcheck, as soon as he's finished he's back at your side, pulling you close to him whenever he can, even when you're standing in a circle talking to Ross, Adam and Polly.

"I love you" he'd mutter in your ear at random times, surprising you and making a blush coat your cheeks.

Or you'd catch him staring from afar, a smile tugging at his cheeks as he watches you interact with his friends. He'd eventually have to come over to you, not wanting to be apart from you for too long.

When they perform, he watches you dance at the side stage, craning his neck at times just to get a glimpse of you. He'd come off stage at any given opportunity, where he'd quickly give you a kiss or a hug.

I feel like at one point Matty would say into the microphone "George I know you love her but you can't keep leaving the stage just to love on your girlfriend, we've got a show to perform... Sorry y/n" and it would cause everyone to blush and George would return to the stage, blushing and smiling widely.

Note: sorry if there's spelling or grammar mistakes... I had this idea ages ago and I've only just got round to finishing it. I know it's not exactly what you asked for but I hope you like it... Love youuuu

[thefrontofmymind]

june 1st fic appreciation :))

hello everyone!! i've decided for this years june 1st i wanted to do a little fic appreciation post/event thing. basically just compiling all my favourite 1975 fics, imagines, drabbles, blurbs, etc. and you can too!

[pucksandpower]

Boop!

Charles Leclerc x Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: boop! boop! boop!

Max Verstappen strolls through the paddock, his mind preoccupied with race strategy, when suddenly a finger boops his nose.

“Boop!”

He blinks in surprise to find you grinning at him mischievously. “Y/N? What are you doing?“

“Booping!” You giggle, already breezing past him.

Max just shakes his head bemused as you make your way over to Lando Norris, who is chatting animatedly with his trainer. Without pause, you reach out and boop Lando’s nose.

“Boop!”

Lando’s eyes widen comically. “Wha … Y/N!”

You merely flash him a cheeky smile before skipping off, leaving a confused Lando behind.

Lewis Hamilton raises an eyebrow as you approach, but you disarm him with a brilliant smile before booping his nose lightly.

“Boop, Lew!”

The veteran driver blinks slowly. “Well, someone’s in a playful mood today.”

“Just bringing some fun to the paddock!” You trill, already bouncing towards the next target — a very confused Oscar Piastri.

As you boop Oscar’s nose with a cheerful “Boop!” that has him staring cross-eyed, Daniel Ricciardo happens to wander over, watching the scene with amusement dancing in his eyes.

“What’s all this then?“ Daniel chuckles as Oscar shoots him a pleading look.

You spin towards Daniel with a grin. “Boop!”

The Australian laughs as you tap his nose, not even trying to dodge. “You’re proper zippy today, aren’t ya?“

With a parting wink, you flit off to find your next victim. Logan Sargeant jumps when you appear beside him and boop his nose without warning.

“Gah! Oh, it’s just you, Y/N.” Logan exhales in relief as you chirp, “Boop!”

Pierre Gasly watches you dubiously as you skip up to him. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I don’t think I want any part of-”

“Boop!”

You cut him off cheerfully by booping his nose, leaving Pierre blinking owlishly as you dance off to accost Alex Albon.

“Hey, hey, watch out!” Alex yelps as your finger lands on the tip of his nose with a decisive “Boop!”

You simply beam at him before bouncing towards Yuki Tsunoda. The young Japanese driver eyes you warily.

“What do you want?“

“Boop!” You poke his nose lightly.

“What does that even mean?“ Yuki mutters in bafflement as you skip away, already focusing on your next target.

Fernando Alonso regards you with an arched eyebrow as you approach. You don’t even break stride, swiftly booping his nose with a cheeky “Boop!” before carrying on, leaving the eldest rookie of F1 faintly bemused.

Spotting George Russell chatting with Lance Stroll, you make a beeline for the duo. As you reach them, you boop first George’s nose with a bright “Boop!” earning a surprised blink, then turn and boop Lance, calling out a cheery “Boop!”

Lance gapes at you. “Did you just … boop me?“

“Yep!” You shoot him a sunny smile before whirling off in search of new targets.

As you roam the paddock, your gaze lands on your boyfriend laughing with his mechanics. Shooting him a mischievous look, you zip over and stand on your tiptoes to plant a loud “Boop!” on his nose.

Charles jerks back, eyes widening comically before focusing on you. “Mon amour? What are you doing?“

You bite your lip coquettishly, eyes sparkling as you watch him process what just happened.

Slowly, a grin tugs at the corners of Charles’ mouth. “Oh, I see how it is.”

Quick as a flash, he reaches out to boop your nose lightly. “Boop!”

You let out a delighted laugh as he pulls you into his arms, cradling your face in his hands as he gazes at you adoringly. Your smiles mingle barely a breath apart before Charles leans in to capture your lips in a sweet kiss that sends butterflies fluttering in your belly.

As he draws back, eyes twinkling, Charles murmurs, “Not that I’m complaining, but why did you suddenly decide to go around booping everyone’s noses today?“

You grin up at him impishly. “Well, there’s this thing called tumbl-”

[vinvantae]

How the current f1 grid would react coming home from a race to find you’d fallen asleep on the sofa waiting for them to come home.

So this is me trying to get back into the groove, hope you like it! All just a bit of fun 🥰

There’s now a part 2!

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Below the cut because I don’t want to flood your dash 💙💙

#1 Max Verstappen

Max’s reaction would be entirely dependent on when his last Redbull was. If he was feeling just as sleep deprived as you, he’d squeeze onto the sofa with you and snuggle up beside you - smiling to himself as you grumbled into his chest about how much you’d missed him before the two of you dozed off, both eventually waking up with sore backs. But if he’d thrown back his millionth Redbull on the plane, just to ensure he was awake enough to see you - he would for sure prod his fingers into your sides, tickling you until you were squealing for him to stop, the biggest shit eating grin on his face. Max Emillian! Get those hands off of me! Before he’d kiss you deeply, showing you just how much he’d missed you.

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#2. Logan Sargeant

After draping a blanket over you, he’d cosy himself up in the adjacent armchair and distract himself with the TV on quietly or something on his phone until you woke up. And as you groggily moved from the sofa to the armchair, curling yourself up in his lap - complaining that he should’ve woken you up, it’s been too long without you, he’d simply smile and kiss your forehead. He’d then listen to you yap away about what he’d missed while he was gone, but truthfully, even when you were asleep your company was enough, because even if he felt lonely on the grid sometimes - he never felt like that with you.

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#3. Daniel Ricciardo

Daniel would stand over your sleeping body for a few moments - torn between waking you up because he misses you or just letting you sleep a while. But feeling particularly selfish after not the best race, he’d crouch next to your face and gently stroke his thumb over your cheek whilst calling your pet name to get your attention. And seeing your eyes light up at the sigh of him, launching yourself from your comfy spot on the sofa into his arms would make him forget all his worries - even for just a minute. You’d kiss all over his face, making him laugh. G’day to you too, Sheila, miss me that much?

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#4. Lando Norris

He wouldn’t even get the chance to notice you sleeping, hollering out your name as he came through the front door - kicking off his shoes and dumping his suitcase too was more than plenty to wake you up. As he comes into the living room to see you sitting up and rubbing your eyes - he’d wince and apologise for waking you, I am sooooo sorry, babe. Am I forgiven?, before coming over to give you a kiss. But you’d smile, rolling your eyes playfully and say you wouldn’t have him any other way before hauling him down onto the couch to join you.

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#10. Pierre Gasly

Pierre is a needy boyfriend - of course he’d never admit it but you and anyone with a pair of eyes could see it. He craved your attention so waking you up was something he would do without even thinking - just to get a kiss. So when you feel the sofa dip and a warm hand come up to rest on your shoulder, you let your eyes flutter open to see him smiling down at you. Bonjour, mon amour, I’ve missed you. And as he leans down to kiss you, you can’t help but playfully rib him for waking you up just for an ounce of attention.

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#14. Fernando Alonso

You wouldn’t even realise he was home until he’d placed a mug of your favourite hot drink on the coffee table. He was so quiet on his feet that he had a habit of making you jump so when you heard the soft Mi Amor of your lover, you jolted awake. Nando, you’re home - why didn’t you wake me sooner? He’d simply smile and hand you your drink, saying he didn’t want to disturb you and that it gave him time to unpack. As you sit up to drink, he’d nestle himself beside you and drape an arm across your shoulders, before the two of you would fall into a conversation about his weekend.

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#16. Charles Leclerc

Charles endeared you like no one else - every time he came home late from a race weekend, determined not to wake you, he always found himself dropping something or accidentally closing a door too loud. He wanted to let you sleep but this time it was the jar of coffee and the tiled floor that were his biggest enemy. Most people would freak at the sound of breaking glass while they slept, but to you it was the sign your clumsy boyfriend was home. He’d apologise profusely as you stepped into the kitchen with a tired smile on your face but you’d simply step around the glass to take his face in your hands and kiss him, getting rid of any worry.

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#18. Lance Stroll

With a gentle touch to your knee and a soft whisper of your name, Lance would smile to himself as you stretched out and yawned - matching his smile as you sat up to hug him. Before he’d reach into his bag and pull out something he’d seen he knew you’d love. You’d always scold him for buying you things but there was nothing Lance loved more than picking you out something from each country he visited. And you could never stay mad when you opened it, your boyfriend was the most thoughtful gift giver and never had he put something tasteless in your lap. And boy, did he love reaping the reward.

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#20. Kevin Magnussen

Coming home to a quiet house was rare for Kevin, so when he did - the driver did everything in his power to keep it that way. Knowing you’d somehow got the kids to sleep despite his pending return home, it was not something worth risking. So when he found you asleep on the sofa, clearly in an attempt to wait up for him as evidenced by the half drunk cup of coffee and the book splayed across your chest, he’d slide his arms underneath you and take the two of you to bed. Your body so tired that you barely registered the movement, only curling up into his chest once his strong arms wrapped around you.

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#22. Yuki Tsunoda

It was usually the smell of something cooking that woke you, no matter the hour - Yuki could never resist whipping both of you up something delicious because the plane home always made him hungry. So as you padded to the kitchen to peer over his shoulder, what’s cooking good lookin’? He’d apologise for waking you but would offer you a taste of whatever delicious food he’d decided to make and that was more than enough of an apology. And once you were up, you could sit contently on the counter as he rambled away about his weekend.

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#23. Alex Albon

After taking various photos of you snoozing, including an awful 0.5x close up that you’d have to wrestle his phone out of his hand to stop him posting to instagram once you discovered it, he’d wedge himself in behind you and wrap his arms around you - pressing a kiss to your warm forehead. Missed you he’d whisper gonna put you in my pocket next time, bring you with me. His long fingers tracing up and down your spine as you pressed your cheek against his chest, just enjoying the feelings of his arms around you once again. Not quite ready to wake up but determined to make the most of your time with him.

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#24. Zhou Guanyu

Thankfully, Guanyu was always quiet on his feet - moving around your shared space like he was floating on air, laying your favourite fluffy blanket over your body before checking the house for any remaining chores. But of course you’d done them all, and well he had missed you, so disturbing you just enough to move your head onto his lap so he could stroke his fingers through your hair was his next move. Watching the way you almost purred and pushed into his touch. How long have you been back? He’d simply brush his finger down the slope of your nose. Not long, want to head up to bed? Be comfier there.

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#31. Esteban Ocon

Mon lapin? Where are you? Esteban cursed under his breath when he realised he’d woken you up by calling out - but the guilt faded when you smiled giddily at him. Estie, mon amour, come here. Your arms outstretched for the Frenchman, giggling with glee when he practically launched himself into your arms - showering your face with kisses. He always missed you endlessly when you couldn’t join him on a race weekend, FaceTime couldn’t compare to the feeling of having you wrapped up with him.

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#44. Lewis Hamilton

Lewis was almost shocked when you and Roscoe didn’t greet him at the door, you loved making sure the old pup was there to greet his Dad. But after gently pushing off his shoes, leaving his luggage to deal with later, he moved into the lounge to find you and the bulldog curled up together on the sofa - Roscoe’s large head on your chest, little tail wagging as soon as he laid eyes on Lewis. Hey buds, looking good! He’d whisper, giving him a scratch. You and Mama having a good nap, huh? He’d smile as you stretched your arms out above your head, his name leaving your lips softly before he lent down to kiss you. Let me make us some tea.

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#55. Carlos Sainz

Carlos always craved your touch, but when the two of you had to spend time apart - he felt like his skin was on fire. So as he stepped into your home and found you dozing on the sofa he couldn’t help but feel his shoulders slump for just a moment before kneeling beside you - letting his tanned fingers trace up the exposed skin of your legs. Corazón, I’m home. You blinked hard a few times to wake yourself up but before you could even think, his strong arms scooped you up and off the sofa. Carlos! You’d laugh, as he tossed you on the bed, crawling between your legs, his lips tugged into a smirk. I’ve been without you for too long, Mi Vida. Need you.

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#63. George Russell

You hadn’t even realised George was home, but when you woke up - both of you were dozing in bed, the Brit had moved you upstairs, somehow without waking you up. George, love? How come you didn’t wake me? His long arms would wind around you and pull you in close, nuzzling his face into your neck - warm breath fanning across your skin. You just looked so peaceful and I was tired so I thought we may as well just sleep. You hummed, pushing your fingers through his hair with a gentle smile on your face. I’ll let you off this once, missed you loads.

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#77. Valtteri Bottas

It was late when Valtteri got in, so he assumed you’d already be tucked up in bed - but when he saw you on the sofa, sleeping features illuminated by the soft glow of the table lamp he couldn’t help but feel a tug at his heartstrings at your effort to wait up for him. Carefully, he pulled the blanket off of the back of the couch and laid it over you before putting out the candle you’d accidentally left burning, no wonder it smelt so good in here. But, he didn’t want you to wake up with a bad back in the morning so reluctantly, he gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. Hi, ready to go to bed? You hummed and kissed him softly. Tried to wait up for you. Val smiled and helped you to your feet, before the two of you headed upstairs for a good night's sleep.

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#81. Oscar Piastri

You’d been so excited when you got Oscar’s text that his plane had landed that you were determined to wait up for him - but before long you were out cold, a movie playing in the background and your phone discarded on the floor where it had slipped from your fingers. As he came in he could hear the tv so naturally assumed you were awake, so he would move quickly to get to you - only to find you fast asleep. Oscar smiled gently, picking your phone up off the floor and turning off the tv. He wanted to let you sleep but he’d missed you so dearly, and wanting nothing more than to hear your voice he decided to wake you. Oscar! You beamed, jumping into his arms - wrapping yourself around him. You’re here, you’re home! He nestled himself up in your arms, enjoying the warmth of your body against his - feeling the stress melt away. Definitely worth waking you up for.

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Hope y’all enjoyed this lil something

Didn’t write for Perez and Hulkenburg because I just don’t feel confident or comfortable doing so!

Thank u to @carsgonyoom @vetteltea and @danielfuckingricciardo for letting me annoy u with it first 💙

[harianaswhore]

⟡ ₒₜₕₑᵣ dᵣᵢᵥₑᵣₛ ₂ ⟡

NONE OF THESE ARE WRITTEN BY ME

ᵐʸ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ʳᵉᶜˢ ᶠ¹ ʳᵉᶜˢ

— ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳⁱᵈ ⟡

the met gala - @amirasainz

the leclerc chronicles - @mclqren

heartbreak syndrome (mostly the grid but ex!max and eventual lewis) - @h4m1lt0ns

the grid's delight - @sebscore

pure chaos two three - @cutieleclerc

girls just wanna - @httpsserene

dream girl - @ham1lton

— ˢᶜᵉⁿᵃʳⁱᵒˢ/ʰᵉᵃᵈᶜᵃⁿᵒⁿˢ ⟡

f1 drivers calling you their wife - @maximiliangf

blind girl - @hamilando

jealous was i stupid to love you - @maxtermind

baby, would i still be your lover? I'll tell you the truth, but never goodbye (^)

fuckbuddy!f1 drivers getting jealous (f,a,s) (^)

“can you watch my boyfriend for a sec?” - @23victoria

how many likes for this bag? - @essiemclaren

f1 drivers and their soft spots for you - @mirohlayo

'tis the season - @clerc16

when they miss you - @iheartmonaco

make me your muse - @goldsainz

sorry, who is this? (^)

unbreakable - @amberjazmyn

how the f1 drivers would kiss you - @uluvjay

getting caught making out (f,s) - @no-144444

super smash bro (s) - @archiverstappen

just acting (f) - @pha55ed

bereals with your f1 bf (bereal format) - @lilasamaaa

f1 boys and their pre race traditions with you - @itaipava

— ˡᵉʷⁱˢ ʰᵃᵐⁱˡᵗᵒⁿ ⟡

chapter 25 (smau) - @edwardslvrr

down bad (smau) - @lewisvinga

love conjeture (smau) - @bth3cowboi

lukcy charm (smau) - @maplesyrupsainz

— ˢᵉᵇᵃˢᵗⁱᵃⁿ ᵛᵉᵗᵗᵉˡ ⟡

about you (f)- @drvscarlett

just my type (smau) - @parkerloves

you've got a 9 to 5 so i'll take the nightshift (a) - @httpsleclerc

goodbyes are bittersweet (series) - @vettelsvee

[russellsppttemplates]

hey înes so i think my family forgot about my birthday which is today (just a rushed store bought cake) so can you write something about the grid surprising the reader who is a driver to whichever team you choose 🥹

Note: happy birthday, dear! ✨️I hope you had a lovely day 🥳

"Do you think she'll like it? I got the prettiest cake they had in there", Charles said as he set the box on top of the table.

"Really? That was the nicest one there?", Lewis asked as he looked at the baked good from all angles.

"I could've baked something that looked a little bit better", Pierre offered.

"Could you?", Carlos slapped the French man's back.

"I wouldn't eat anything baked by any of you", Lando chirped in, "where's Oscar? He walked here with me! I've lost him already", he muttered.

"Oscar is the one in charge of bringing Y/N here - Mick said it would be too suspicious if I walked with her", Max offered.

"I also got her the present we agreed on", Lance set the bag next to the cake.

"I'm sure someone did, but just in case - do we have candles?", George butted in.

The groans leaving everyone's mouth was enough to let him know no one did.

"Candles are overrated, anyway", Daniel tried to keep the humour.

"Oscar and Y/N are on their way here - they just stopped to talk to Toto", Mick said as he got inside.

When you walked up with Oscar into the meeting room, you were expecting the stewards to be mad at you, "I think we're late, Oscar!", but you were met instead with cheers and balloons thrown at your face.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Y/N!", they all cheered as you looked at all your friends gathered in the same room.

"We still wanted to make something special between us without the team recording and all of that", your teammate Max said as he showed you the cake, "it's not homemade and we're not sure how good it is, but it's the thought that counts?", he squinted.

"This is amazing, guys, truly", you cooed, "I bet it tastes amazing - even if those colours are not natural on the slightest", you took some of the bright red filling with your finger and licked it.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[wreckedandpolemic]

thinking about matty having a gf and sharing her with george while being on tour 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

this made me bluescreen! good job! thinking about matty inviting you along on tour like need somethin’ pretty to look at to keep my spirits up, yeah? m’sure i can keep you busy somehow and of course you agree in a heartbeat, find yourself bent over and filled up whenever and wherever you want.

a couple of weeks in, you start getting self-conscious about the knowing looks the others are throwing you, and especially that george’s are blatantly lust-filled. george keeps looking at me like he wants to fuck me, you tell him, lips loosened by the echoes of pleasure still coursing through your body. matty’s reaction is the polar opposite of what you’d expected, his lips parting softly as he murmurs is that something you’d want, sweet girl?

the question sends heat dripping through your core, and you nod. y’wanna be a good little toy for us both? yeah? we can do that, angel. and he dirty talks you about it all night, murmuring that you’d look so pretty full of him, baby. god, such a good girl, always just wanna please, huh?

and, of course, the three of you have a serious, sit-down discussion about it, but where’s the fun without any roleplay? so george watches you with matty like it’s the most normal thing in the world, lazily palming himself through his jeans. when he cums, matty turns to george like d’you want a turn? looks like you need it, mate. she’s so sweet, all ready for you. makes such a perfect little cumdump.

your entire body feels like it’s on fire, teasing humiliation prickling arousal under your skin. you grin over at george, turning your best fuck-me eyes on him as he approaches you slowly. his jeans crumple to the floor and your mouth waters at the sheer fucking size of him. you ready, baby? you nod eagerly. please. the stretch and burn when he enters you is fucking glorious, heat throbbing between your legs as george fucks you like a toy. matty watches on, almost proud, as you whimper and writhe under george.

he finishes on your chest, spits into the mess and swipes his fingers through. you suck them clean eagerly, grinning dazedly up at george as he gets dressed. y’ever need to take out some stress, mate, you know where she is, matty says, his condescending tone as he speaks like you’re not even there turning your already-soupy mind to mush. she’s such a good girl, she’ll take anything, he adds proudly, and you nod feverishly.

being shared between them is like a dream, never more than a few hours from a good fuck. your favourite nights, though, are the ones where they take you at the same time, one fucking your mouth while the other fucks your cunt. even when tour ends, it’s not uncommon for george to come over for some stress relief, making you cum on his dick until you can barely breathe while matty looks on with lust-black eyes. yeah. hot.

[lottiecrabie]

crablurb masterlist

matty healy

eat me like a good boy – request

go back to sleep – request

call me when you’re bored – request

bi threesome and continuation (w other girl)

cheating

halloween

ghostface

studio (w george)

pray for my soul

cockwarming

morning sex

sex toy

fight

cross

drunk and morning after

matty’s parents

defending

boyfriend

sore

vacation

girlfriend and its twin

first date

proud

trick or treat

winter

don’t fuck the line cooks

cockwarming

threesome (w bartender!george)

fire escape

caught in the act

cat

virginity

socmed

to dust and bones

cockwarming

prequel

jealousy

stars

handcuffs

rockstar girlfriend

studio eating out

brits

professor!matty

cockwarming

raspberry

cyosa!matty

cuddle

galatea!matty

concert

ross macdonald

play me a song – request

george daniel

how’s your itch – request

thigh riding

studio (w matty)

bartender!george

threesome (w linecook!matty)

intense

lottiecrabie deep cuts, as a birthday treat

crabie quiz

how well do you know lottiecrabie fics

which lottiecrabie fic are you

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now | The Aftermath

House or Home?

It’s been about a year or so and they're finally looking at moving in together, properly this time, but Mouse is stubborn and Matty’s… Matty. 

“I hate it.”

Matty all but deflated at the three words, eyes sweeping over to where the estate agent was still stood in the kitchen doorway to the pretty four bedroom house they’d found in South Hampstead. 

In her defence, she still had that godawful smile plastered across her face, as though the entire statement bothered her none, but her eyes told a different story. They were screaming.

Matty couldn’t blame her, not when this was the eighth house Mouse had turned down this week alone. And it was only fucking Tuesday.

“Squeaks, babe.” Matty quietly attempted, mouth opening once more in an effort to get the woman to see sense. The house had everything they were looking for, it was more than perfect and how could it not be with an actual garden that Teddy could run rampant in and a sodding wine cellar to boot. 

But she cut him off, spinning around on her heel to shake her head at the agent in a silent apology. “Sorry. It’s just not gonna work.” It was all that was said before she took off, leaving Matty standing there awkwardly with the estate agent, hands tucked in his back pockets like a kid meeting their mum’s new boyfriend for the first time.

The woman, lovely girl named Mila, slumped slightly but kept up the act, pretending like all was fine and dandy, probably more than used to dealing with shit like this. 

“Sorry love, it’s just a big decision. You know?” Matty tried to soothe, lips pulling into a thin smile made mostly of regret. And it was exactly that– a big decision. 

It had been just over a year since that whole fallout had happened with the media and the sudden silence between them. And shit had cropped up every now and again after it; his management team had been a fucking nightmare to coerce and convincing themselves that this thing that they had was worth trying for had been daunting. But they’d put it all behind them in the end, they’d moved on.

And now here they were, buying a house. A home. Because Teds was getting bigger and bigger by the day, enough so that he now had a proper big boy bed and could ride a bike that took up a chunk of his bedroom. But also because Matty suddenly had a shit ton of crap to relocate since he’d moved out of and sold his London gaff, having slowly slunk his way into the flat he’d come to think of as home. 

All in all, Mouse’s was simply running out of room to hold them all.

Mila waved his apology off though with a single hand gesture, tucking the ipad she constantly held under her right arm. “It’s fine, I get it. Every client’s different.” She told him easily enough, but her smile was still so weary when she looked back at him, “I’ll get to looking for a couple more properties for you.”

Matty nodded, but let his eyes flit back over to the antique cabinets he could so easily picture Teds hiding in whilst they played a round of hide-and-seek, as well as the large kitchen island that they could all use for big get-togethers or family dinners. He gave a halfhearted sigh before allowing himself to take a small step back and follow Mila when she started to turn. “‘Spose this happens all the time then?” He asked her, hoping to fill the quiet walk from the kitchen to the front door.

There was a small pause, and then, “Sure.”

Wincing at that, Matty was more than a little thankful to be walking a step behind the woman, especially when they stepped out the front door onto a porch that screamed American Dream and spotted Mouse propped up against the Jeep’s passenger door. 

He tried to give Mila another polite smile when she told him that this had been the last viewing she would have for them for a little while and that she’d soon be in touch. Matty just shook her hand, thanking her again for her time, before they parted ways and he was walking back on over to the car.

He slid into his seat, hearing Squeaks follow, and didn’t say a word as he backed out of the paved driveway, admiring the stonework that lined the verdant grass and the fenced gate as they drove out of it. With one final glance at the house in the rearview mirror, he reached out to switch the radio on, the AC quickly following.

It was just as he made a left turn at the end of the quaint street that Matty heard a small intake of breath, he waited for the eventual…

“It just didn’t feel right.”

Even with the slight frustration he felt, Matty licked at his lower lip and looked right to hide the slight smile he wore. He hummed softly over the low buzz of the speakers, “You’ve said that about the last sixteen, baby.”

Mouse let go of a harsh breath and Matty felt his grin grow. “Well, then I guess the last sixteen didn’t feel right!” She retorted and threw her hands up in exasperation before crossing them over her chest, fingers moving to toy with the elbow of her sleeve. “I’ll know it when I see it, okay?”

Matty flicked an amused brow in the direction of the passenger seat and received a scornful glare for it in return, so he merely resorted to surrendering, glancing back out at the empty road ahead. “Okay.”

They stayed in a quiet little bubble the whole drive back to the flat. Matty’s mind stuck on the house they’d just viewed, on the long winding staircase, the extra bedrooms it offered, that waterfall shower. By his standards, it would’ve been perfect. It should have been.

It took a little wrangling but he did eventually manage to find a space to park on the overflowing sidestreet that their flat resided on when they finally got home, but it was at that point that Squeak’s phone rang. She moved on autopilot after answering it, unbuckling her seatbelt swiftly whilst Matty turned the car off and locked up.

She had a slight crease between her brow as they made their way up the few short steps which led to the front door and tugged a hand through her hair just as he worked the key into the worn gold lock. 

“Yeah, I can do that. Ah, just–” Matty listened to her pause in the entryway and glanced back, waiting by the radiator for her to shoot a quick glance his way so that he could ask a silent question with just a single look. She mouthed Teddy’s name before she was speaking into the phone again, only proving to puzzle Matty further. “Alright, can you hang on just a sec? Alright, thanks.”

Matty watched closely as she pressed the phone to her chest to muffle any sound the speaker might pick up and chewed on her lower lip. “What’s happened?”

Mouse raked her hand through her hair again and blew out a breath, “Teds has hit his head at school, they say he’s fine but the bumps come up quick. Need him to be picked up.”

It was immediate the way Matty’s pulse quickened at the implication of Teddy having been hurt and so he was pretty hasty as he moved to grab the keys he’d just set down on the hallway’s side, already gravitating towards the door before Mouse could even utter another word. “I can be there in ten minutes, just let them know it’ll be me coming, yeah?”

A year ago, Squeaks would’ve reeled a bit at the entire situation, what with Matty taking charge on matters where her son was concerned and on her not being the one to drop everything just to go and pick him up, but now she barely batted an eye. Instead, Matty watched on as she nodded, face full of relief as she stepped forward to press a chaste kiss to his cheek before she was speaking into the phone again, demanding to know what had gone down.

Matty slipped back out the front door with a slight rattle, his typical gait quickening as he hurried on over to the car, jumping in and starting it up once more before he could even think to worry about finding a better parking space than this when they eventually got back. Mind focused solely on getting to Teddy.

In the time Matty had known the kid, Teddy had only gotten sick twice. The first time had been this little bug, it had given him a bad belly and a bit of a cough but hadn’t affected him all that much. Still, Matty had fretted all the same, nursed him back to health and had barely left his side, even if that had meant listening to the same episode of Blue’s Clues on repeat for three days straight. The second though, that had been a lot more frightening.

Winter had rolled its way back around as it tended to do and the usual flu had taken its hold. Matty himself had picked something up off of one of their roadies during the promotional tour they’d been doing for the latest album in Europe. The tour had only lasted a couple of weeks, but he’d still been jumping back and forth between this city and that just so that he could see Teds and Squeaks as often as possible. But that in itself had also meant that Teddy had ended up catching the same bout of flu, too.

Matty had been beside himself when he’d first heard, guilty for the fact that he’d had the precious little gremlin sniffling down the phone on their next call. But Mouse had just laughed and shook her head at him, promising that Teds would be as right as rain soon enough. But not even she could have prepared for the way the kid had taken a sharp turn overnight.

Jamie had shaken Matty awake at four am, not long after they’d managed to make it to Sheffield and hunker down for the night in some swanky hotel. He’d been bleary eyed and still recovering from the relentless cough that had been wreaking havoc on his lungs for the past week when he’d rolled over to find his manager's nervous face staring down at him. 

Teddy’s fever has spiked, he’d said.

It had been a freight train of emotions after that. Jamie had somehow managed to score him a flight down from Manchester to London in less than a half an hour. But by that point Matty had already been in the back of a cab, trembling hands texting with Adi whilst the woman had updated him on every single thing that had occurred back home. 

Seemed that Teddy’s temperature had risen so quickly, having jumped from a steady 38 to 42 in less than an hour, which had prompted the most agonising hospital trip of Matty’s entire life. And that was including each time he’d fucked up and been wheeled there himself. 

It had taken him just over two hours to get down to them, so by that point Teddy had only just been properly seen and Mouse was in silent hysterics. Adi had ordered Finn to come pick him up from the airport, but back then the two of them had still been in this awkward sort of stalemate and so neither had spoken a word apart from when the other man had finally attempted to calm Matty’s anxious tapping. 

“He’ll be okay.” It was all that he had said, but Matty had found himself nodding along in quiet agreement all the same whilst he’d rattled his phone against his knee, ready to jump out of the car at a second's notice.

Driving over to collect the kid from school now, Matty felt that same agitation. The need to just be there, to see for himself that Teddy was okay. It was all that he could do to not hightail it over and fuck every traffic law he could somewhat remember just to ebb the sinking feeling that had wormed its way into his gut.

He did eventually manage to get there, making it in just under ten minutes after he’d accidentally ran a red and parked in a teacher's bay outside. 

The receptionist startled a tad at his sudden appearance, eyes probably as big as saucers and darting about the room in hopes to find Teds stood waiting there for him. But the kid was nowhere to be seen, and so Matty crossed the room to speak to her.

“Hi, here to collect Teddy? You rang, said something about him hitting his head?”

Matty had dropped Teddy to and from school more times than he could count, but collecting him from the office? That was something he’d never done before. Never even thought about, actually. And so he was fucking unsure on what the fuck kind of etiquette these people were supposed to use here. Did she need his ID, his passport? A picture of him and Teddy ice skating?

“Oh! Okay then, I’ll just fetch him for you. If you could sign him out here for me?” She pointed towards a clipboard and pen sat just off to the side and then smiled one last time before she wandered away.

Matty blinked and watched her slip out a side door. Was that it?

All he had to do was just sign the kid out? 

Matty released a heavy breath and shook his head at the thought, figuring it best to just do as was expected and have a word about it with Squeaks later on, maybe it was just something he was missing.

As it happened, he’d just finished scrawling down the last of his name when the door inside the office squeaked open causing him to jolt the y in Healy as his head snapped up.

It was as though all the tension he’d ever felt seeped out of him in that very moment. Years of stress from fucking performing, of trying to get through his own stupid exams back at school, and maybe even the trouble of having dealt with his parents and their shitty divorce. All of it just vanished when he looked over to find Teddy already grinning at him with his little book bag slung over his shoulder and a Spidey plaster stuck to the side of his eyebrow.

“Matty!” Teddy all but squealed as the kid darted away from the receptionist to barrel headfirst into his legs. Matty felt his heart give out a little at the sight of the tyke, obviously not as traumatised as he’d been expecting him to be.

“Alright, monster?” He replied softly, bending down a tad to scoop Teddy up into his arms, eyes flickering over every inch of his face just to be certain he wasn't hiding any other injuries. “Heard you had a bit of a tumble.”

Teddy nodded, almost excitedly, and Matty fought not to shake his head, utterly bewildered by the fact that the kid wasn't more phased. He almost wanted to scream, in truth. This amount of worrying wasn’t typical, alright? And he was fucking getting up there in age! All the stupid shit he’d managed to achieve during his livelier years and the life choices he’d made added up in the end, didn’t they? So it was an honest to God miracle that he hadn’t suffered a sodding aneurysm on the way over here, or something of the sort. 

“Just a little fall apparently.” Matty heard someone say and he looked up only to be reminded of the fact that the receptionist was still standing there, watching. She gifted him a sweet smile, eyes caught on the way Teddy clung to his neck and the way he appeared to cling back. “There’s an accident report in his bag for you to look at, they go home with all the little ones. The nurse said it wasn’t anything too big and that he should be fine, but it’s best to keep an eye on these things so if anything out of the ordinary does happen it’s best to take him to the local A&E.”

Matty felt his mouth go dry at the very implication and so he wet his lower lip just before he exhaled a little shakily. “Right,” He swallowed thickly, hand smoothing over a riot of curls and pausing on the small bump he felt at the top of Teddy’s head. “And the plaster?”

The woman blinked and weirdly Matty felt a little caught out, as though he was suddenly this afternoon's entertainment. He wondered briefly if she knew just who he was. 

“That’ll have been jotted down on the report too, but from what I heard it was just a little cut above the brow.” The receptionist answered him, extending an arm out to pat Teddy’s back before she stepped away again, “You really were brave today, Teddy.”

The kid puffed up at that, smiling proudly, but his eyes remained glued on Matty and so he returned the bright grin, kissing the side of Teddy’s head before he hitched him up further on his hip. “No stitches then?”

“Tiniest of scratches.” The woman assured him around a wide smile as she shook her head and waved his worries off.

Matty dipped his head in a slight nod, looking down at Teddy once more. “Anything else I need to do then, or?” He asked, letting that or drag out as he inched closer towards the door he’d previously barreled through.

“You should be good to go.” She told him, eyes still lingering. “It was nice to meet you though!”

“Yeah,” Matty replied as he struggled with the door, “you too.”

By the time the pair of them made it back outside and into the car Teddy was keeping up a constant babble, explaining (but not actually) just how he’d fallen and hit his head. From what Matty could make out it was when he was running to escape the fishmen? And so he could only guess that him and his mates had been playing a weird round of a tag at breaktime and Teddy had taken a plunge into the wrong kind of waters. 

“You’re sure you’re okay though, mate?” Matty asked him once they were about a minute or two away from the flat and Teddy’s ramblings had died out a tad. He glanced in the rear mirror to find Teds picking at the plaster above his brow.

“Uhuh.” Was the answer he received in turn and it was enough to dislodge the last of that worry that had been eating away at his chest. 

Matty figured then was as good a time as any to try and talk with him a little. The whole drive back from viewing that house, before they’d gotten the scare from the school, he’d been thinking and thinking. Enough to have concocted the beginnings of a small plan. 

“Remember how we was talking about looking for a new house, Teds?”

Matty’s thumbs tapped at the top of the steering wheel as he waited for a reply, oddly grateful for the small queue of traffic that sat up ahead. It would give them a bit more time.

“Yeah, you said a garden!” Teddy answered him and Matty figured he seemed excited enough about it all when the toe of the kid’s school shoe kicked the back of his chair. “That could mean a dog, right? Taylor has a dog!”

Matty fought back a laugh, the lad’s only just performed a stunt that’s gone tits up and landed him with a wound to the head but he’s more worried over when or if they’ll be getting a dog. Though, to be fair to him, a dog did sound nice. He could picture one now, out there on that grassy patch of land behind that particular house rolling about with Teddy. 

“That’s cool, mate. But I was just wondering what you thought about it all. A new house could mean a bigger bedroom for you, you know? Could have a couple sleepovers maybe, with a few of your friends from school.”

Matty didn’t have to glance back to know that Teddy’s eyes had shot open wide, he heard it all in that delighted little gasp he made. He chuckled.

“And remember my old house? How we used to make pancakes in the kitchen whenever you and mum would stay over?” Matty reminded him, eyes flicking up into the mirror to watch Teds nod at him, “Reckon we could do that again in the new house ‘cause it’d be a lot bigger, means we could all fit in there. Could even do your homework whilst we cooked in the evenings. How’s that sound?”

“Don’t like homework though.”

Matty laughed as the traffic started to pick up again, he moved to shift into gear. “Me neither, little man. But you’re a whole lot smarter than me so I reckon if we roped mum into helping too it’d all be done a lot quicker. And we could do that in the new house, don’t you reckon?”

“Yeah, and then I could get my Spidey walls!” Teddy exclaimed, bouncing in his carseat now, enough so that Matty was honestly a little fretful that he’d fall out of the thing. 

“You remembered that one, hey?” 

“You promised, ‘member!” Teddy shot back at him just as Matty turned onto their street, shoulders slumping in relief when he found that there was a space free a little further down.

“Yeah, I do, mate. Swear I haven’t forgotten.” He reassured and smiled to himself as he parked up and continued to listen to the dreams Teddy had for his future bedroom. And fuck anyone who thought he wouldn’t make them happen.

The two of them walked down the street hand in hand once Matty had pulled the monster free from his homemade rocking chair– and made sure that the thing was as secure as it should be. Teddy was happy to talk away, squealing when he caught sight of next door’s tabby cat and then bouncing in Matty arms when he had just about managed to scoop the kid up before Teds had gone bounding into the road to follow the skittish thing. 

By the time they’d made it in through the front door, Matty was sure he couldn’t take much more after the emotional rollercoaster he’d been on most of the day. 

“Squeaks?” He called out whilst he coaxed Teddy into kicking off his shoes and jacket, only just managing to peel the bookbag off the kid when Mouse came into view.

“Mama! Look at my Spidey sticker!” Teds called out as he tumbled on over to the woman, pointing to his head. In truth, it was a mystery how he didn’t take another tumble then and there, what with the way he was skidding about all over the floors. 

Matty let go of a weighted sigh and took to shucking off his own shit, dropping his boots onto the shoe stand before he hung up his jacket beside Teddy’s. When he stood back on his feet Teds had already hurried off into the living room, happy to be home from school again it seemed and not caring about the grape sized lump protruding from the side of his head.

Mouse quirked a brow at him when he stepped nearer, hiding her amused smile at his wary appearance, but still willing to let him wrap his arms around her waist and his head fall against her neck. “Okay, lovely?” She murmured into his hair and Matty felt himself nod slightly.

“Shattered.”

“Life of having kids, babe.” Squeaks chuckled, running a hand through his curls before resting it on the nape of his neck, “Thank you for going to get him.”

Matty pulled away to frown down at her, brow pinched. “Don’t thank me, you muppet. It’s weird.”

She simply resorted to snorting at the reply he’d given and then smiled, “I just appreciate it, is all. That alright with you?”

Rolling his eyes, Matty pinched her side before he slipped away. “Nope. But you can make it up to me by making dinner?”

He received a halfhearted scowl at the attempt but her smile was warm and soft and everything he loved, so he didn’t worry too much as he went to join Teddy on the settee.

Apparently, he hadn’t really needed to ask about dinner because it seemed as though Mouse had already had the foresight to have gotten a start on it when he’d been gone. So after he’d made sure that Teds was sweet and honed into his show, he’d peeled himself off the comfy cushions and headed into the kitchen to help out. 

Cooking together was something Matty had always loved. In the early days, he’d just been content to sit there and watch her work. But now he enjoyed helping out, even if it meant being bossed about or bumping into one another in the too small space.

It was just when they brushed against one another again, as she bent down to open the oven door that he only just narrowly missed toppling over the side of, that Matty could no longer hold his tongue on the subject.

“This place feels like it’s getting smaller and smaller by the day.” 

His words were merely met by a low hum whilst Squeaks continued to check on the food. Matty spared another halfhearted glance around the cramped kitchen, at the small wooden table and the tiny fridge tucked up under the counter. Then at the washing machine that was on its last legs and the pile of pots and pans they had no space for. 

“That house we saw was massive, kitchen was sort of like one of those you’d find in a catalogue, don’t you think?” He pressed a little further, tongue toying with the back of his front teeth as he struggled not to peer back over at her to witness her reaction. “Wouldn’t be bumping into one another all the time if we chose something like that.” He chuckled, but the sound of it was quickly cut short by the slam of the oven door.

“What, so you don’t like bumping into me anymore?” Mouse asked and Matty shifted to find her standing there by the hob, tea towel fisted in the hand she held at her hip. “‘Cause I do. I like coming home to you, to us spending time with each other, even if it’s in silence. I enjoy brushing past you in the kitchen and in the hallway, and even in the bathroom when you claim you have to brush your teeth the very second I do!”

Matty blinked.

“I love this flat, Matty. I love the fact that the rent’s cheap! That we’re chummy with the landlord and the neighbours aren’t half bad. That I can count on them to watch Teddy if something ever did happen!” Mouse exclaimed, staring back at him with those big eyes of hers, chest almost heaving.

“Teddy’s first steps were taken here!” She continued on, as though it had just slowly been building up inside her and had suddenly found its chance to blow. She paused, only to point up at the ceiling to where a splodgy patch of something hung above them, “See that stain? That’s from when Teds had his first bowl of bolognese. And that chip in the tile right there? That’s from when you dropped that planter you got me after you’d come home from tour!” 

Matty stared down at the chip now, noting that it wasn’t the only imperfection in the mosaic of tiles, but one that he could remember making as clear as day.

His silence must have lingered on too long though because Mouse then took his wrist and led him out of the kitchen, she stopped short to point at the plethora of guitars that crowded a corner of the living room. “And how about that mark on the wall? The one made when Ross and George came over for Halloween and all those guitars went toppling over as they chased after Teds.”

Teddy was watching them now, eyes having wandered away from the tele set and over to where Squeaks gripped his hand a little tighter to tug him along behind her and into the hallway. 

She paused by the door to Teddy’s room and Matty already knew what was coming.

“You told me you loved me here.” She murmured, stealing the breath right out of his lungs, before she then turned to spare a glance at the front door. “And we can’t forget that door.”

Matty breathed out a faint chuckle, his startled gaze moving to find hers in the dimly lit hall, only her eyes were glassy and darting back and forth between his own, almost pleadingly. 

“I know it’s too small. And I know we can’t stay here forever. But it’s home. It’s a place made up of all my best memories, Matty.”

He couldn’t think of anything to say to that. Because suddenly he realised that this was why she had claimed that she had hated every house that they had gone to look at. Why she had been so adamant on getting it right, on finding the right one. Why she had made up excuse after excuse to get out of viewings, to turn each one of them down.

Matty reached over to cradle her face before he pulled her in close, hands falling to hold her. He smiled softly when he caught a flash of movement just out of the corner of his eye. It was barely a gesture, let alone a nod of his head, but Teddy knew what it meant all the same and bolted over from where he’d been standing in the doorway of the living room to join them.

Matty understood then. That the flat was a part of them. But moving didn’t have to mean giving all their memories up. It could simply mean creating new ones, better ones. He only hoped that he could somehow convince Mouse of that. Because he knew that she wanted this too, deep down, she wanted a place that could be all of theirs, that they could mould and shift and shape into their own. But she was just so afraid to let go of the past, to take that next step, to leave the memories they’d made here together behind.

But he would show her it would all be fine. Somehow.

So with that thought, Matty went and did the one thing he knew would have to work.

A week passed after that emotional afternoon and things mostly settled. Matty hadn’t brought up another thing about house hunting or viewing talks with Mila, and so he could only guess that Mouse had been somewhat lulled into the sense of thinking that that had been the end of it all.

But then they were on their way back from Hann and Carly’s the next Wednesday, they’d had lunch and talked music, and Squeaks had been none the wiser when Matty had taken the Jeep down a wrong turn.

It was only when they’d pulled onto the street and the gravel beneath the tyres had levelled and softened out that Mouse had perked up a little in her seat. Her brow was pinched when she finally turned to face him, eyes darting around, “Think you missed an exit back there.”

Matty didn’t give her reply as he scanned the street for that familiar number, the weight of an unknown pair of keys sitting heavily in his right trouser pocket.

“Matty, do you even know where we are?” Mouse wondered again before she started messing about with the navigation system on the console. But Matty didn’t pay it much mind, continued to roll the car further and further down the street until they reached that fenced gate he’d exited through the last time they were here. “Matty?”

He came to a slow halt and switched the engine off, shooting her a sly smirk before he slipped out the side door.

“Matty!” Mouse called after him in a hiss, but Matty was already jogging up the few short steps to that painted white porch, a tiny set of keys already warming his palm. “Matty, what the fuck are you doing? You wanna get done for breaking and entering?”

Matty snorted softly to himself whilst he slotted the key into the lock and silently thanked the lovely Mila, reminding himself to get the girl a proper thank you gift if this all worked out the way he was hoping.

Squeaks called out to him one more time as he stepped over the threshold, a smile dawning on his face as he paused to wait for her to join him.

“Matty–” She was a tad bit out of breath but mostly exasperated by the time her fingers caught on the hem of his sleeve, but then she jolted beside him not a second later. He waited, peered over at her to watch her take in the familiar surroundings and smiled when the skin between her brows ultimately furrowed. “Why are we here, Matty? Isn’t this the last house we saw?”

Grinning, Matty linked his fingers through hers and gently lured her nearer. “Doesn’t hurt to take a second look around, does it?”

Mouse must have been more than a little perplexed by the whole ordeal because she didn’t fight him on the matter when he started to move them further inside— and in truth, he was really fucking thankful for that fact because he figured getting her inside would be the hardest task. And yet here they were.

The hallway back at the flat was about the same size as a twin bed and morphed into a narrow corridor which led onto the two bedrooms and the singular bathroom it had to offer. Here though, the entryway was wide and spacious. The current owners had a bench lined up on one wall where a pair of tall windows perched either side of the front door and the wooden floorboards that ran throughout the whole house homed a large vintage rug, which sat beneath a table in the centre of the room and held a rather bright bouquet.

Matty’s eyes stilled on the wide set of stairs though sat just behind the many flowerheads. “Couldn’t you picture Teds running about in here? Like, him storming in after school with all his mates behind him.” He wondered aloud, smiling as he took another step further inside. “And those stairs, I could see us taking Christmas photos there– like mum used to force me into doing back when I was a kid.”

He hadn't actually expected a reply and so he had to dampen his grin when she chuckled sweetly in return, “What, the three of us all decked out in matching jumpers?”

“Or pjs.” Matty countered before he led her a little further away, pointing out the large fireplace which they could use in the colder months and the downstairs loo that he could see becoming a lifesaver as Teddy grew older. “And look at this dining room, baby! We could have all the guys over at once in here, Adi and your mum too! Sunday roasts round ours, hey? Especially once the rest of the boys have littluns of their own.” 

She didn’t say much to that but her eyes were scanning, surveying even, and so Matty took that as a win and together they moved further forward into the famous kitchen. The very room she had claimed she hated the entire house in.

They paused by the entrance and Matty let himself lean against the door’s wooden beam, Squeak’s hand still holding his. Those antique cabinets looked the same as they had done a week prior, but the wash of colour seemed to illuminate under the setting sun that peered in through the old french doors.

“Could move about in here so freely.” Matty heard himself tease, voice soft though in hopes to not to break up the gentle moment. “Picture it. Making you pancakes on Mother’s day and helping Teds with his school work on the countertop there whilst we cook.”

Matty was surprised when Mouse was the one to shuffle on over towards the kitchen’s island, eyes mapping the vibrant fruit bowl and the cast-iron sink. 

He watched on as her gaze was drawn towards the back doors, to where another patio stretched far out on the other side. Slowly, he guided her closer to them, letting her get a feel for it all before he took the handle and opened them up, letting the light spring breeze flutter through. 

“Can you see it? A couple kids filling up the garden. Us standing here, or looking out that window there, to see Teddy laugh and smile while he darts about back and forth with a football or a kite.” Matty chuckled, already picturing it coming to life before his eyes, replacing the firepit in the back with a tyre swing and adding in a grill for him to man come summertime. “Could even get him a dog.”

Mouse shook her head even as they shared a smile.

“I know what you’re doing.”

Matty dragged his tongue across his teeth in hopes that it would dim the strength of his already too big grin. “And what’s that?”

“This, I get it.” Mouse replied, then she shrugged a single shoulder, “But it doesn’t change anything. The flats perfect for now, maybe soon we can look again and I might change my mind.” 

“You’re right stubborn you know that?” Matty acknowledged, because he’d hoped that by doing this, just them wandering through the empty property, that she might have been able to see what he saw. But still, he smiled down at her.

She widened her eyes mockingly in retort to that statement, forever used to hearing it. “Thought you’d’ve figured it out by now, rockstar.”

Matty simply hummed, feeling the slight breeze settle around them, rattling the metal wind chime which hung from one of the outside beams. He casted his sights out across the long patch of grass laid out before them and took a deep breath, mouth twitching ever so slightly. 

“You know, someday we’ll have to start making new memories.” He mentioned, tucking a hand into his jacket pocket.

“I know.”

It was hard not to fall apart then, especially when her eyes trailed over to meet his nervous smile. She tilted her head at him, confused. And Matty figured he just had to get it over with before his legs soon gave out. 

“So why not some place like this?” He wondered, fingers tightening around the hand he still held in his as he rocked back and settled down on one knee.

She didn’t dare move. Staring down at him and the pretty red box he now held, so still Matty wasn’t even sure that she was breathing. 

“Are you serious?”

A chuckle escaped him at the ask and it was surprising because it sounded so genuine, even with the way his hand currently shook. “I reckon we could make a couple nice memories in a place like this. So, you just gonna let me kneel here or will you marry me?”

Mouse tried to keep the smile from off her face, eyes sparkling as she stared back at him, but in the end the battle was lost and Matty ended up mimicking the strength of it.

“Is that a yes then?”

She laughed, bright and loud, then tugged him up to wrap her arms around him. When she finally pulled away her eyes were wet but he didn’t think he’d ever witnessed her happier.

“Of course it is, you idiot.” She sniffed, capturing his jaw between her palms, and she stared at him so earnestly that it made Matty feel so utterly seen. “But it really does need a new lick of paint.”

Squeaks must’ve seen the evident confusion that crossed his face right then because she chuckled and gestured her head over towards the back door. “The house. If we’re planning on living here then I want it to feel like ours.”

At the realisation Matty laughed in disbelief and dipped down to rest his forehead against her own.

“I think I can manage that.”

“You better.” She quipped, pulling him in for a slow kiss before she was giggling to herself. Her eyes were bright and alive even as she narrowed them menacingly at him and prodded at his chest with a finger, “But don’t pull anything like this ever again, you hear?”

“What, propose?” 

She rolled her eyes at the question but that smile of hers was relentless.

“Yeah alright, I hear you.”

[abiiors]

Orrrr better yet

Your first time with George he’s so gentle and considerate and just takes his time making your alright

okay goodbye, goodnight 🙃

The first time you stumble into his room, panting heavily and leaving a trail of clothes to the bedroom, is right after he walks you back home. It's literally an innocent kiss that turns into so much more, so very quickly and suddenly he's asking you to come inside, basically having to half carry you inside because you're so busy kissing his neck. He's worried about doing something that will turn you off because he really does not want to fuck this up so he cannot stop talking and making sure that you're alright, that you're having fun. And normally it would be quite annoying but with his voice??? pls, just making out with him has you moaning and a wet mess. He just so badly wants to bury himself inside you already but he needs to make this a night to remember for you so he's instantly on his knees as soon as you're in his bed and he's all "can I go down on you? just wanna make you feel good, please" and you already have your back arched and hips lifted off the bed. This man is TALENTED and he's sure keeping his word about making this a night to remember. Even after two orgasms and feeling like absolute putty, you're still surprised at how much you crave him, how much you still want him. So you just take the time to admire him while he puts a condom on (we believe in safe sex in this house). He just looks so fucking chiselled in the dim light of the room. And his pupils are dilated, his mouth swollen (and wet), his hair is a mess from all the times you've run your hands through them that you honestly think you're about to cum right then. He could make this rough if he wanted to but he wants to savour this first time. He wants to make sure it's as sensual and intense as possible.

In case you read this when you wake up, good morning to you 👀

[whimsicalpolitical]

Perfect - Matty Healy

sweet sweet aftercare ‘cause of this ask

content warning: 18+ mdni, p in v, kinda rough matty in the beginning, dirty talk, spanking, aftercare

You know right then and there, nothing you will ever experience for the rest of your life will feel as good as the drag of his cock inside you. You feel every ridge, every vein, every twitch.

You feel like you lose consciousness for a second, but regain it with the brutal snap of his hips. Very quickly he finds a pace he likes and sticks with it.

You scream out on instinct, and seconds later you are met with his hand across your mouth.

"Be fuckin' quiet." Matty snaps. He pulls you up by your shoulders, your back against his front. You'd never been in this position before, his cock is so deep inside you, you are seeing stars. You are whining against his hand and letting him use you like a toy. He is splitting you open and you fucking love it.

“Moan ‘round my hand all you want, m’ gonna fucking use you.”

"Shit, this is my perfect pussy." He says, his pace increasing as you feel the head of him brush something deep inside of you. You feel impossibly full, pleasure coursing through every vein of your body just letting him take you in any way he needs.

You squirm around him, trying to move a bit, to make you both feel better.

You feel a harsh slap on your ass next.

“Quit your fuckin’ brat shit.”

A whine slips from your lips, it’s been to long since you’ve felt his kiss. “Matty.”

“What? Hm?” He asks, “tell me your color.”

“Yellow- green-ish.”

You so badly want him close, to feel his lips on yours, kiss until your lips are red and wet from his tongue.

“What d’you need, darlin’?”

“Kiss.”

Matty chuckles and pulls your hair until your head is falling back. He collides his lips with yours. It’s an open mouth kiss, his hips not stilling but moving even more. You moan into his mouth as he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip.

“Alright?”

You nod before letting your head fall back down.

“God, my good girl, s’ it green now?”

“Yes, yes, all green.”

“S’ all it takes, a kiss from me? Pathetic.”

That makes your eyes roll back in your head. You love when he humiliates you.

"You’re a slut f’me, only f’me, understand?”

“Only f-for you.”

The white hot pleasure rolls inside of you, sparking every where it can like a frayed wire and igniting fires inside of you. He strucks down on your ass, leaving a red mark.

“That’s right.”

“Oh fuck- matty.”

He sneaks a hand around you and rubs your clit in circles, and relishes in your bitten back moans and cries for his name being muted by the roughness of his hand. He feels your muscles going limp underneath him. He feels you squeezing him tightly.

"You gonna cum baby? Go ahead, soak my cock." His voice just above a whisper.

You soak his stomach, his thighs, yourself, cumming all over him but his pace doesn’t relent. He's using you. Sliding in and out while holding your body upright against him. He's ruining you even more than before, the sound of your wetness squelching with the crack of his hips. You feel like you are going to die, in the best way. If you died right now with his cock inside of you, it wouldn't be too bad.

You feel his hips falter, and you know he is close.

The moans he is choking back sound like heaven. The whisper of your name on his lips does something cynical to you.

"Where d’you want it, love? Gonna let me fill you up? Mark you as mine?” He manages.

"In. Inside. Need to feel it, Matty, mark me.”

Not even a second later you feel it pour through you, the warmth of it filling up your cunt and dripping out of your hole. He pulls out and watched himself drip out of you. It is pornographic. He runs the tip of his cock through your folds to push it back inside you, gasping when it hits your swollen clit.

“Matty-“ you whine, the soreness already starting to get you to feel a bit shit.

“You should see yourself, all filled up with my cum, s’perfect.” He leans down to kiss your lower back, signalizing you that it’s fine to turn around and drop down against the mattress. “You’re perfect.”

You smile sleepily and lay down on the blanket, too exhausted to wrap the blanket around you and you already know he’s going to clean you up.

“Be a good girl now and stay awake.”

“Mhm.”

You sound displeased and that’s because your behind is much more sorer then any other body part. It stings and that’s why you try to find a comfortable position.

Matty stands at the edge of the bed putting on a white Calvin Klein boxer.

“baby, take it easy, and lay on your stomach. I’m gonna take care of you.”

His voice is more distant.

“Where are you going?” You ask, a little bit panic in your voice as if he didn’t just tell you he’s going to take care of you.

“Just going to the bathroom, I’m gonna grab a few things, I’ll be right back, love, don’t worry.”

“No, please,” you plead.

“Love,” Matty begins to walk towards the bed, “have to clean you up.”

“Later, matt,” you sound drowsy with your eyes closed and your hands trying to reach Matty’s body.

Matty hums and lays down on the bed, your head falls onto his chest and even though he’s now next to you, you’re still hurt. He, of course, notices.

He loops his arm around your leg pulling it over his own, his hand then travels to your red ass rubbing slow circles on your skin.

You relax under his touch, your breathing slowing down.

“That’s it, my love,” he whispers, “you’re so perfect, d’you know that? You always do so well for me.”

You don’t answer, too tired to move or talk.

“Baby, don’t fall asleep, you have to use the toilet and I have to clean you up.”

You shake your head and smile, “kiss me first?”

“Of course,” he laughs.

He leans down more, aware of the fact that you’re physically exhausted, breaking his neck while doing so. But he doesn’t care the second your lips intertwine with his. You don’t have much strength to kiss him as deeply as you do most of the time, but he doesn’t care at all.

“How about a quick shower?” He asks.

This time you don't try to speak. Your tongue is like a lead weight in your mouth and your brain is running on dial-up. The best you can do is to cling to him, hiding your face in the curve of his neck and hoping he'll understand that your firm hold on him is a request for him to tighten his own arms around you, until you're sure you won't float away. He reciprocates and it makes you feel more secure immediately.

"Can you answer me?" He murmurs, all sweet solicitation, lips brushing the top of your head in this new airtight position.

"Baby. I wanna hear your voice."

"Mhm," you manage.

Matty rewards you by rubbing your back in slow circles. His hand feels nice on your bare skin. The way you love him is too big for words. It could make you cry.

"Now?”

You shake your head and try to ignore the ache in your bones when you can't seem to get him close enough.

"Just want to stay here.”

“I know, we really need to get up now, though.”

Matty thumbs away a few stray tears, purely from pleasure, that have fallen down your cheeks. Your eyes are still a little clouded.

"c'mon, darling," Matty snakes an arm around your waist to pull you flush to him. You keep your head in the crook of his neck as he helps you to your feet and into the bathroom.

He sets you down onto the counter while he’s prepping everything, laying the softest towels down, his sweater and new panties for you.

He turns the shower on, waiting a bit until it’s warm enough. Your eyes are still a little clouded and Matty notices almost immediately.

"feeling okay?" he kisses your cheek, then your forehead, and finally your lips.

You nod, face flushing. "more than okay." Matty hums.

Matty takes his time with you in the shower. he makes sure the water is just the right temperature before he pulls you in.

His hands are soft as they wash and massage your scalp. He’s mindful of your sensitivity and when you're done, he wraps you up in a big fluffy white towel.

“What can I get you?” Matty asks.

“Bed,” you mumble, tiredness finally taking over. “But also m’ cold.”

"You're cold?" He asks and you answer him with a nod.

Earlier matty was wearing a basic white button shirt with an elegant wool sweater draped over it. You told him at least ten times of how nice you think the sweater looks.

Matty kisses your forehead. He squeezes your hip and turns around to lift his sweater off a little shelf..

"Arms up," matty instructs gently.

You do as you're told, the soft material concealing your body in the best way possible. The smile on your face tells Matty he made the right choice.

He then slides your underwear over your legs and a few seconds later you finally make it back to bed.

Matty helps you before sliding in after you. You promptly curl into Matty’s side.

“Wasn’t too rough with you, was I?”

You shake your head and lean up to kiss the corner of his mouth, “nah, you’re perfect. Always.”

He massages your skin gently, over all the places he had been a little rough earlier, gentle fingers pressing against your hips and thighs.

“You’re perfect, sweet girl.”

Locking eyes with him, you then utter in utmost adoration, “I love you so much,” craning up to kiss his lips softly. 

“I love you, I love you,” he murmurs between pecks.

“Let’s get some sleep now and then we can watch the ridiculous show you like s’much.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” you roll your eyes.

“Whatever you say.”

He snuggles in behind you, wrapping his arms around your torso much like he had when he was in the bath with you. You turn around to face him one last time to press a kiss to his lips before nuzzling into his chest. His arms shift to move around your shoulders and waist, your leg thrown over one of his own.

“Sleep well, my love.”

Having having your breathing lull him to sleep is a tune he will never get tired of playing. Nights like these, cuddled up with one another, safe in each other's grasp, are the reason he knows you’re the right one.

You want to spend the rest of your life’s together.

[hypersonic04]

Fresh Out The Slammer: Part One

circa 2019. ross is 29, its the notes era. imagine graham norton ross. there's a lot of waffling because I feel like I need to get back into the swing of writing, and also set the scene because this is going to be three parts! so apologies for that. i've missed you all so much and i'm just glad to be posting something for the first time in ages. i hope you're all okay i would love to hear what you've been up to in the, like, five months i've disappeared into the abyss for. I'M WAFFLING AGAIN. sorry. okay. fresh out the slammer! enjoy. i'm nervous. okay.

Word Count: 2,848

Part One: 'Now pretty baby, I'm running back home to you.'

Who were you supposed to call on nights like this? The question seemed to be the only thing your brain circled back to as tears streamed down your face, a sob caught in your throat, heels harsh and loud on the pavement, even over the chaos of muffled bars. Your 28th birthday, stood outside a club that you were probably too old to be at in the first place, phone vibrating with 'where r u???' - who were you supposed to call?

Your birthday didn't feel very worth celebrating when you looked back on the year you'd had, your freshly shattered heart stinging as a very raw memory of being walked out on a week earlier seared itself through your memory. He'd always been a dickhead, the kind of boyfriend who'd told you that he was the best thing to ever happen to you, or that the whole writing thing wouldn't work out, but what did you have if you didn't have him? He'd been a pillar in your life since, well, forever. He'd shown you your favourite holiday destination, your favourite wine, your favourite book - were you just a product of him? The thought panicked you. No, you were cool. You had loads of interests, and friends, and hobbies.

The one thing he'd not shown you was something you'd kept a secret from him.

Your favourite band.

Even now, your stomach twisted as you recalled him and your youth, nights tangled up in bed sheets and clumsy hands on sticky dance floors, the mere thought of his recurring aftershave sending a wave of nostalgia over you as you perched on the ledge, lighting up a cigarette. It'd been years since you'd spoken to Ross. Now that you thought about it, it was probably around the same time Charlie had come on the scene, private-schooled, 5'9, biology-studying Charlie. You'd ignored Ross' messages inviting you to their gigs out of guilt for Charlie (his ego would have been well and truly tarnished), reluctantly un-followed him on Instagram when there'd been questions asked about him, tried to pretend that there wasn't an invisible tattoo of his hand prints at your waist, the memory of his fingertips forever stained in your hair, remnants of his kisses on your starving lips. Nothing has ever come close to Ross, and you'd be lying if you said that when Charlie had been away for work, you'd replayed the reels of your nights together in your mind.

You looked at the time - 3:17.

His number probably wasn't even the same as the one you had in your phone.

You leaned your head back, looked up at the sky, squeezed your eyes shut. There's no way you were about to do this. He probably thinks you're a weirdo anyway, cutting contact like he'd been a random one-time snog in a club. He might not even be in the country, for all you knew, with his world-famous band and world-famous records and most likely world-famous girlfriend. You'd not thought about that up until now - his girlfriend. Perhaps non-existent, probably existent. Jealous curled up your spine, a sick feeling settling in your stomach.

It was like your hands weren't your own as you scrolled through your contacts, brain on auto-pilot and suddenly feeling 20 again, stood outside a bar at university, ringing him to come and get you. The picture you'd set all those years ago was still the same somehow, and it made you swallow heavily - his head pressed next to yours, hair swooped to one side and probably wearing a Hollister polo. You both looked so young. It stopped you in your tracks, almost. You thought of how different things could have been if you hadn't ran away from everything, panicked and settled down like you thought you'd wanted, let him go on tour with the band and forever have the 'what if' hanging in the windows of your newly-purchased house with Charlie. What a success that was.

You pressed it and waited. It rang. And it rang.

As if you'd thought he'd pick up. It probably came up as an unknown number. You felt daft as you held the phone to your ear, tears stinging at your eyes again. The only person you'd thought to call.

Your stomach dropped when the ringing came to a halt and you could hear crackling.

And then his voice. Sleepy, low, tired.

Familiar. Warm.

"Y/n? Can you hear me?" he repeated as you stood in silence, lips pressed together at the sound of his name down the line.

"Ross," you managed to choke out, running a hand through your hair.

"Is everything okay?" he sounded concerned and you could hear his footsteps across what sounded like a hardwood floor, pacing.

"I just..." You looked up again, swallowing. "I'm so sorry."

"Y/n/n? What's going on?" Coming to a halt, his voice softened.

"I'm in Manchester, and I guess I'm kind of lost? I don't know, it looks different than it used to, and I'm on my own. I don't know why I called, you're probably not even here, are you?"

There was silence from across the line for a second and you squeezed your eyes shut. If he didn't think you were crazy before, he definitely did now.

"No, I'm here. I'm in my flat." He said softly.

"Oh, right," Your head was spinning. "I'm sorry for bothering you, I just-"

"Whereabouts are you?"

You breathed in sharply.

"I'm not sure, it used to be that bar we went to every week, but it's changed now, it's a kebab shop, I think." You glance at the neon sign, voice shaky.

"Are you staying in a hotel or anything? I can order you an Uber, or-"

His voice crackled down the line.

"I was, but I've lost my friends, and I've had a drink and I can't call Charlie and I don't know what to do." Your throat feels tighter when you say it all out loud. "I don't know, I called you because it was the only thing I could think of, but it's fine, I can-"

"Stay there," you can hear him moving around, "I'm leaving now."

It felt like an eternity between him hanging up the phone and arriving, perhaps because all you could do was think about how you've ended up here.

The car pulled up slowly and your stomach dropped, the window rolling down and his smile visible as he ducked his head.

It was like your feet were frozen to the ground for a second. His lips curved at the sides, hair messy and just as dark as you remembered it, but his eyes were older. They creased at the corners a little, slightly darker, a bit more tired. It wasn't just you who'd been trying to figure things out since you graduated, exhausted by the demands of post-graduate existence.

"Just move that, sorry." he mumbled as you opened the car door, throwing an empty water bottle onto the backseats. His eyes seemed immovable for a second, like he was having the same thought process as you. You felt intensely vulnerable for a second, and suddenly remembered the ladder in your tights and the mascara stained cheeks that faced him.

"God, it's been so-"

"I've missed you-"

You both started at the same time, an airy laugh escaping as you let the silence consume you.

He started the car without another word. It took everything in you not to stare, or cry, or say how much you'd missed him and how sorry you were that you'd abandoned it all. Instead, you kept your gaze forward, drinking in the streets you'd traipsed as a student.

"We're here." he glanced at you, pulling up outside an apartment block.

"Oh, you didn't need to bring me here, it's okay, I think there's a Premier Inn up the road." You furrowed your brows at him, shaking your head and starting to rifle through your bag. "I've got my card, it's fine, I-"

"It's fine." He said with a slight smile, shaking his head. "You can stay at mine. 'Will be nice to have the company."

You smiled at him softly, in the way you might smile at a cashier or your boss. It felt strange, transactional, like maybe there was a void between the two of you. You'd put it there.

"Thank you." You said quietly, following him out of the car and up the steps.

The lift was creaky and you closed your eyes for a second, the tiredness hitting you. The past two weeks had been a lot, and you'd thought a night out might fix everything.

His flat was just as you'd expected it to be. Records and CDs and books on every available surface, a scattering of guitar picks, some empty mugs, a weeks' worth of unopened post.

"Is it just you that lives here?" You asked as you stood awkwardly in the kitchen, watching him as he put the kettle on and grabbed two mugs. A Macclesfield FC one, and a souvenir one from Germany, it seemed.

He nodded with a hum, glancing at you. "You can get comfy, it's fine."

The fluorescent kitchen light felt exposing as you slid your heels off, placing them neatly by the door with your bag. He handed you the cup of tea promptly after and you followed him into the living room. It was spacious, yet the sheer amount of stuff everywhere made it feel lived in.

"Why couldn't you ring Charlie?" he asked after at least five minutes of the two of you pretending to watch whatever random Top of the Pops repeat that BBC 2 had shoved on for the 4am slot. He looked at you intently, but his tone was calm, simply wondering.

"We've split up." You looked down at the mug, mouth drying out. "About a week ago."

"I'm sorry to hear it." He said after a beat, looking back to the TV.

"Don't be." I shook my head, lips pursed. "Wasn't as good as it seemed, all that house-owner, engaged shit."

His gaze softened, but you could sense his sadness for you.

It's strange, to sit in a room with someone you once slept with on the regular, thought you were going to marry, like people do when they're 19, and feel like you know nothing about them. You could mentally draw him, the identical placement of the birthmark on his right hip, the exact colour of his eyes, yet you couldn't identify which bedroom was his in this flat, or what he'd had for tea the night before.

"I'm sorry for calling you at this time." You said meekly, looking back at the TV.

"I was awake anyway, it's okay." He glanced at you. "It was nice to see your name on my phone."

"I'm sorry for not calling sooner, then." You corrected your earlier statement, watching as his lips tilted into the oh-so-familiar smile your fingers had traced over countless times.

"I missed hearing from you."

"I missed hearing from you, too."

The silence was deafening, almost claustrophobic as you inhaled deeply. His eye contact faltered, skitting back to the TV, blinking heavily. You wondered what he was thinking, whether memories of you under him were also still as fresh in his mind as if they'd happened yesterday.

He downed the last of his tea, sitting forward.

"There's a spare room across from mine, down the hallway. Feel free to get a shower, use some of the clothes in those drawers, whatever you need."

"Thanks." You placed the half empty mug next to his on the coffee table. "Do you have any paracetamol or anything? I can't really hack hangovers anymore, even if it is just a couple of cocktails."

"Could you ever hack hangovers?" He teased as he stood up, walking into the kitchen. You blushed - so he was thinking about those mornings, too.

He handed you the box to take to bed with you, showing you the bedroom.

"There's a clean towel in the bathroom," he pointed to the on-suite, "I'm just in here if you need anything." His neck craned to look into the bedroom behind you, pointing to the bathroom and drawers, but you could only look at him. His tan skin, his tousled hair, neat, tidy beard, the chest hair that poked from the top of his t shirt.

Standing across from each other in the hallway, you could see into his bedroom. Light green sheets, a book next to his bed, a pair of jeans thrown over the end of the bed-frame. You wanted to know him again. To know him, and his life, and his body. Charlie was superficial - his lavish proposals, extravagant holidays, Instagram posts declaring you as 'the love of his life' and lonely nights spent waiting for him to get back from a boys night out. Ross was everything. He was 'picking you up at 3am', remembering how you liked your tea after 7 years apart, dark eyes and curls and haphazardly strewn clothes and empty beer cans on bedsides and you.

"Thank you, again, for letting me stay over." you looked up at him, his gaze already fixed on you.

"It's not a problem."

A second passed before you turned on your heel, a shaky nervous hand reaching for the doorknob.

"Night," You said, with a small smile.

"Night."

You closed the door and watched his turn away, broad shoulders disappearing into the opposite room.

The shower was hot, steaming up the bathroom, as you turned it on. You'd dug out a stripy t-shirt and some joggers you could roll up from the back of the wardrobe.

You tipped your head back in the shower, letting the hot water run over you. The shower gel lathered against your skin, and it felt symbolic, to be washing away the day, the thoughts of Charlie, the fake smiles of your fake friends in fake, pose-y bars. Ross had always felt real to you, the realest thing in this city. He'd been brutally honest with you when you'd needed it, soft with you when he knew he had to be. The memory of your fight flashed into your mind - the last day before you went back home after graduation, tears in his eyes, down your cheeks, raised voices and a final, slammed door. Your eyes opened quickly as you remembered how you'd told him you wanted stability, not to follow his 'silly band around the world'. You hated yourself for it, even now. He's been hurt, like it had meant nothing to either of you, the way you'd got into your car and drove back to your parents with blurred vision, Car Seat Headrest blasting through the stereo as you fled the scene.

You thought about him laid across the hall. Was he wide awake? You tossed over onto your side, duvet pulled up to your neck. It must've been about 5am. You willed yourself to just fall asleep. The sound of floorboards creaking forced your eyes open, but they hushed as soon as they'd chorused through the flat.

The smell of coffee was the thing that roused you from your sleep. So I did sleep, you thought.

His back was to you as you entered the kitchen, the rustle of the TV and clanging of utensils echoing off the walls.

"Morning," You yawned, smiling as he jumped and turned to you. His gaze trailed up and then back down for a second, the sight of you in his clothes clearly taking him by surprise.

"Did you sleep okay?" He smiled. His hair was flat on one side, sleepy eyes, crinkled t-shirt. You nodded, heat rushing to your stomach at the sight of him. "Did you?". He just hummed in reply, pouring water in the mugs.

You sat and ate scrambled eggs on toast. You talked about work. You discussed the rugby, each other's siblings, old uni friends. It felt comfortable, and right, and you had to catch yourself when you stared at him for too long and began to picture doing this every morning.

"We leave soon, though."

"Leave?" You asked, sipping your orange juice.

"Yeah, for tour." He looked up at you from his plate. "Next Wednesday."

Next Wednesday, for tour.

You felt silly for thinking your lives would be sewn together seamlessly, that you would fit into his world like you'd never left.

There wasn't much conversation after that, and it was like you could read his mind for a second. He'd said that to warn you, to prepare you, because he too was imagining this as a constant. This wasn't going to work, and you both knew it. You wanted it to, desperately, and when you left his flat that morning, your eyes welled like they had that fateful day in 2011.

You'd hugged him tightly before you'd left, his arms around your waist firmly, yours around his neck. He was going away for a year, touring the world, and you were going back to your mum and dad's, because where else could you go?

[justanamesstuff]

Unrequited love at the studio - Matty Healy

A/N: It's funny how I don't plan writing the blurbs, but suddenly I feel the urge to post...hope you like it! ♥

Word count: 1.3 k

Warnings: swearing, typos.

Blog masterlist

She could listen to them bicker about the song they had been working on for hours. Matty and George were starting to get impatient with the process, partially why she left to brought food and coffee for them. A simple gesture to lift the mood a little. 

“This is not working.” Matty started to complain.

“It has to.”

“George…”

“Yeah?” 

Y/n stood at the studio door, looking at the pair. If they noticed she was there, they didn’t acknowledge her presence. Their faces close –way too close– to the computer. The program they used was impossible to understand for her. She admired their talent beyond words.

Matty sneaked a hand around George’s arms, he pressed a button and the song started playing. Y/n thought for her insides that anyone would love it just like that, although she knew Matty –specially– and George worked hard to make every song a perfect one. 

“This…is shit!” Matty screamed, projecting himself backwards in the chair. 

George ignored his comment. “It’s not…I can push this back-” he tried to explain, but Matty was in a difficult mood that day. 

“And it will be shit-” he concluded, bugging George. 

He glanced at the frontman, saying in a calm tone,  “Take the stick out of your ass, mate!”

Y/n decided it was the moment to interrupt before things escalate between the boys. 

“Hey, hey, hey…what’s going on, guys?” she entered the room, lifting the food in her hands.

“Fuckin’ finally, you’re here. He’s being an-” George lift his big hands on a praying sign, turning to look at her. 

Matty listen carefully to every word G was saying to fought back, interrupting his friend saying, “Georgie boy is not listening to me!” he protested like a little child.

George had his good share of Matty for not only a day, for an entire week. Since Y/n was here, knowing her words had more impact on Matty than him, decided it was the moment to take a break. 

G lift his slender body from his chair, without sparing a glance at Matty. “I’m going for a smoke. Good luck!” he wished her, leaving a sweet kiss on the top of her head.

Once they were alone, Y/n approached the man in question. She reached for his shoulders, massing them slightly. The tension on his body was palpable for her. 

“Okay, big baby…what’s going on, mhm?” she inquired him. 

Matty let him body relax, leaning back on her touch. 

“Nothin’ is going on, darlin’.” he lied, closing his eyes. Off course, she knew better than to believe his little white lie.

“Okay.” Y/n stopped massaging Matty, going to plop down onto the couch. Matty felt the loss of touch, turning on the swivel chair to look at her. 

Matty groaned loud. “Don’t ‘okay’ me.” 

Y/n smiled wide, reaching for her coffee cup. “Okay.” she mumbled, taking a big sip.

Matty waited for her to keep asking, she didn’t. Y/n stayed in silence, watching every one of his movements.

“Agh!” Matty whined, joining her on the couch. He started talking even though Y/n kept her mouth shut. “I haven’t slept…George is not really hearing what I’m saying…” he wobbled from side to side, finally resting his head down on her lap. Matty reached for her hand, leaving it on his head. 

Y/n answered his silent request, running her hands through his hair. She was accustomed to finding herself in that position with Matty. The action calmed his nerves better than anything else. 

“Why you didn’t sleep?” Y/n asked him softly. 

“I can’t stop thinking about this stupid tune.” he rubbed his face on the fabric of her trousers. 

It couldn’t be only that. “What else?”

“Nothin’ else.” Matty murmured. 

Y/n decided to went with his lie, don’t push him when he wasn’t ready to talk. “Mhm, sure.” she let out, both of them falling into a comfortable silence. Y/n continued touching his hair. 

“Where were you last night?” Matty asked out of the blue, startling Y/n a little.

“Why? I’m suspect for a murder or something?” she tried to joke, trying to get a look of his face. Matty kept his eyes closed, enjoying her touch once more. 

“Maybe.”

“Well, in that case…I was out.”

“With whom?”

Y/n was aware she could talk about anything with him. “Lana got cheated on by her boyfriend- Well, now ex. Why?” 

“That sucks…” Matty felt bad for even asking.

“Yeah, she’s not doing great right now.” she shared, watching friends suffer it was another kind of pain. 

“I like Lana, she’s great…feelin’ sorry for her.” Matty kept the conversation going. 

Y/n felt intrigued about his questions. “Now you know where I was.” she stated. 

“Yes.”

“Why you asked?”

“Never mind.” Matty was ashamed, embarrassed to express his true worries from the night before. 

“Matty-”

“It’s stupid.” he said, turning so he could look up at her face.

“Just tell me.”

‘Fuck it’, Matty thought. “You mentioned John the other day- You were ignoring my texts, you never do that-”

Y/n couldn’t help to burst into a fit of laughter. 

“Matty, baby, you were feeling needy?” she teased him. 

He tried to act up as if her calling him ‘baby’ didn’t affect him. “Forgetit.” he chocked into his words. 

After a brief pause, Y/n instructed him, “Get up.” He groaned, lifting his tired body. He went to returned to the chair when Y/n took his hand. 

She was laying down on the couch, using all the space to lay down comfortably, “Come here, you need sleep.”

“I have to work…” Matty tried to protest, but the bags under his eyes convinced Y/n to keep trying. 

“A nap is self caring sometimes, George is going to understand.”

“Fine.”

“Come here.” she invited him, opening her arms. 

Matty looked at her, still standing, wondering, “Can I use my favourite pillow?” he wiggled his eyebrows to her chest.

“You nasty!” 

“Please?” he asked, showing her his underlip, making puppy eyes at her. 

Y/n rolled her eyes. “Fine.” she allowed him. “Come on, baby boy!”

Matty scoffed at her nickname, “I’m a man.” he said, resting his head on her chest. 

“Yeah, sure.”

Y/n’s hands returned to his head, while Matty breath started to calmed down. He closed his eyes. Matty didn’t hold a moan this time to scape his mouth.

After only 5 minutes, Matty was soundly asleep when George returned to the studio. Matty's snoring welcomed him. 

George pointed at his friend body on top of Y/n’s. “What is he doing?”

“Shhh!” 

“Fuckin’ ell’”

“Let him sleep, please!” Y/n begged.  

George shook his head, returning to move bits around on the computer. Y/n looked at the back of his head. 

“You are way too good for him.” G said, breaking the silence. 

Y/n blushed. She was thankful Matty was asleep and G wasn’t looking at her. “‘m not.”

“Are you ever going to tell him?” 

“What do you mean?” Y/n felt exposed.

George chuckled. “Don’t play dumb with me…” he warned her. 

Y/n gave it a real thought. “No.” she finally stated. 

“You have high chances…” G suggestively told her. Y/n’s heart fluttered. 

She didn’t have a chance or even hope with Matty. Y/n was her friend and friend only. “I don’t…he has a line of girls-”

G interrupted her, “He keeps choosing you-” 

“George, shut up, please.” Y/n couldn’t go there exactly when Matty was resting on top of her body, when he was so close and yet too far. 

G let her be. “Okay…10 more minutes, and I’m waking up sleeping beauty.” he informed her with an even noise, which made her laughed. 

The vibration made Matty pushed his face further into her chest. “With a kiss?” Y/n asked George. 

“Off course.” 

Part 2