#georgedaniell

[thatshappinessforme]

watching interview clips i've seen literally dozens of times but had to pop in to say HOLY HELL HIS ARMS IN THIS BIT I'M ON THE FLOOR

[not-alien-girl-v]

Lost In Reality (George Daniel)

warning: drinking, mentions of sex

note: this took me like a week to write. im so lonely wish i had a clingy lovesick george

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

r&b music is pumping through the speakers of the club. it’s dark in the vip section where you sit and a bit damp with sweat, everything is.

adam went home early tonight, you all bid your goodbyes and a parting farewell hug to him before he slipped out the door a few hours prior. it’s now nearing midnight and your fresh nail polish is chipped.

you sit alone in the private booth with ross. the two of you are tag-teaming being designated drivers tonight, figuring if you both only get mildly tipsy tonight, you can both be equally responsible enough for your two knuckleheads you’re supervising tonight.

speak of the devil, knuckle head #1 comes waltzing up to the table, looking a little lost, but when his gaze meets yours, he freezes in his spot like he’s just remembered he left his stove on, then squeezes in next to you.

“scooch over, i’m tired,” george whines, spilling onto you over the leather seat and your velvety dress.

you give hime a quick smile, feeling as though it sufficed as a brief greeting to your lover as you continue your conversation with ross. “i saw your dad at the store the other day, it was weird, he recognized me and everything.”

ross chuckles, “what was he buying?”

“i think it might have been like a few apples, maybe a-“

knucklehead #1, however, does not feel quite welcome enough, so he scoots even more into you, hand on the back of your neck, right at the roots of your hair and the other gripping your waist. “hey.”

you pause to stare at him, “hey.”

“and what else?” ross tries through stifled giggles to reanimate your dying conversation. george busies himself placing wet kisses to your neck.

“a carton of orange juice, laundry detergent,” your words are broken apart by george and his suffocating attack to your neck. when he realizes you’ve stopped talking, he uses his grip on your neck to his advantage and pulls you in for a full, smothering kiss. you humor him, not entirely enjoying the taste of tequila on his tongue but bearing it because he’s clearly needing something from you.

he pulls away, surprising that he chose to before you did, and presses his cheek into your chest for a moment, “ross, this is my woman, did you know that.”

“i did, mate.” ross glances back at you repeatedly, making fun of george without even having to say anything. george evidently does not pick up on this one bit.

“and did you know that i love her?”

“mm, it’s news to me. maybe you should let everyone else know, too.” you shoot ross a deathly glare, knowing that he knows how much you hate making a scene and you can tell he’s only joking but the knucklehead didn’t quite pick up on that.

with a cackle, he stands up, much to your horror, clinking a fork onto your glass and pulling you in close to him. you’re mildly freaking out, glad that the music in here is just loud enough that the entire establishment won’t hear this, maybe just the people near.

“everyone! listen up, im sorry. i am in love with this gorgeous woman right here! she is the love of my life! i am going to marry her!”

you swear your heart almost stops as people begin to clap. you try to pull him back down to sit and be out of the public’s eye but he resists. “kiss?” he puckers his lips already and points to them with a finger and you pout at him for only just a moment. you soon realize it’s the sole way to get him to stop, so you cave

you mean for it to be a small peck but he holds you in like he always does, the one thing that never changes about him when he gets drunk like this, pressing his lips messily to yours and holding your head too tightly that it roughs up your hair. you pull away this time, pushing him down to sit in your previous spot in the booth, trapping him in as you sit at the end.

“wow, that was beautiful, george,” ross grins wickedly and you set a mental reminder to shave his eyebrow off in his sleep when you get the chance. he’s a deep sleeper, you might just get away with it

“she deserves it. this woman right here, she single handedly saved my life. i love her. will you go to the bathroom with me?” you don’t even realize the last sentence is towards you until he nudges you with his elbow.

“to do what?” ross raises an eyebrow, wondering why he’s so involved in this conversation that has nothing to do with him.

“so i won’t be lonely.”

with an eye roll, you stand up, holding out both hands to pull your boyfriend up, “come on, big boy.” he laughs at the pet name and it’s not missed by you just how hot he is when he laughs like that, you never do.

he wraps an arm around you and you lead him outside instead of the bathroom, as fun as it sounds to take a piss hand in hand with him, you’d rather get your man home.

he stumbles outside with you, nearly taking you down with him but you steady the both of you with gentle hands on his waist. “hey. you wanna get out of here?”

his sly grin is valuable in your gaze, “any time, baby.”

“i mean, i’m going to take you home, okay?” you realize your second attempt doesn’t sound all that better.

“your place or mine?” he smirks. you decide to just let him have it if it means he’ll agree to leave.

“yours, sweets.”

he calls a cab for you, glad that he remembered how much you suck at doing so.

you snuggle up to him in the backseat while he informs the driver of the address. your rest your head on his strong shoulder and he rests his broad hand on your thigh out of instinct.

“you okay, honey?” everything about him is comforting, from his overwhelming kisses and public proclamations of love to the way that he constantly has the urge to take care of you in any way he can, even when he’s wasted. you almost feel bad about how bad his hangover is going to be tomorrow morning.

“i’m alright, handsome.” adding in the last bit just to mess with him and it works as well as you expect, his cheeks blush and a shy smile breaks upon his face.

“you really think so?” it’s not like him to ask for a bit of reassurance like this so you lean in to kiss his cheek.

“of course. i love you. so much.”

“that’s the first time you’ve said it tonight.”

you kiss his cheek again, “but do you really need me to say it for you to know?”

he smiles warmly, “no.”

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

you sent ross a text informing him that you had left and he replied something about how he had assumed so, doubting the pair of you spent a half hour in the bathroom.

you tucked george in with a loving kiss to the forehead and he was passed out asleep before you even climbed in next to him.

it’s now hours later in the late morning, and he was still asleep when you woke, so you decided to set up camp on his couch, mentally double fisting watching supernatural on the tv and reading a book.

it isn’t until 30 minutes of this quiet time alone that george comes slumping in, groggy and tired but awake. he stands in the doorway, looking around in confusion for a moment. “did we fuck last night?”

“no.”

you’re scared he’s going to continue with this, getting into some speech about how you’ll always have his consent, no matter what. it’s something you already know, something you’ve already established with him, but you don’t think you could ever bring yourself to be intimate with him when he isn’t fully present for it.

you know that he’s the same way when it goes for you, that he’d never lay a hand on you if you hadn’t explicitly agreed to it.

he doesn’t, however, and you’re even more grateful when he shuffles to the kitchen and begins to cook breakfast out of habit. you let him be, coexisting with him in the open floor plan of the room, you with your book and your show and him with the food and the stove.

after a good chunk of time, he returns to you, two plates in hand. passing one to you, “careful, love, it’s hot.”

“thank you.” he doesn’t say anything, feeling like he shouldn’t be thanked for simply cooking you breakfast, it seems like the least he can do.

he settles down next to you and your stretch your legs out over his lap, allowing him to rest a hand over your thighs.

you eat in comfortable silence for a moment until he interrupts it. “have you started your period?”

you almost choke, “pardon?”

“has your period started yet?” he doesn’t elaborate any more, likely until you give an answer.

“how did you know?”

he rubs up and down your leg. “i track it for you. cuz i know you always forget to. it also helps me plan our date nights better.”

“why? i mean, thank you, but why?”

he shrugs. “because i care about you.”

you study him over your slice of toast but decide to leave him be. if he chooses to show his love to you in unconventional ways, that’s his decision and you’ll accept his affection in any way you can get it.

once he finishes his plate, he sets it to the side on his coffee table and begins to busy himself with kneading and pawing at your legs. he focuses in on the fleshiest part, your inner thigh and you continue to study him like an creature nearing extinction.

“this is the best part, this right here.”

“of my thigh?” he nods.

“it’s good thigh. prime thigh.”

“ok.”

he sighs now, not loud and dramatic like you do, but a forced exhale. “i’ve got to go to the studio today, my love.”

“so go.”

“i don’t want to leave you. barely seen you this week. finally got you to myself and i’ve got to leave again.”

“i’ll stay here. i’ll be here when you get back and we can hang out some more.”

“is that too much to ask?”

“course not, babe.”

“thank you. i just love the idea of coming home to you. keeps me going. and i hate coming back here after a long day away and being all alone.”

you giggle and poke him with your foot, “god, you’re so obsessed with me.”

“i know, baby, im sorry,” he pushes off your legs and sets your plate to the side, not caring that you hadn’t finished yet. he crawls forward to lay between your legs and rest his head on your sternum.

“don’t be.”

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

taglist: @itssimpleanditgoeslikethis @indierockgirrl @milkluvr8 @americanangel @butyou-callmewhenyourebored

[georgespaniel]

@1975archives editing challenge -> favourite music video

Love Me

bonus!

[kate-the1975]

Bump in the Night… Pt.2 (promptober) // George Daniel x Reader

A/N: A lovely reader in the comments of the 1st part said I should a write a Pt.2 with lil Baba Daniel so obviously I couldn’t help myself!!! X

W/C: 1,528 words

C/W: One use of the word fuck ✌️xoxo

The sun was beginning to set as George adjusted the rear-view mirror, glancing back at the tiny car seat securely fastened in the back. Inside it, your newborn son, Theo, was blissfully asleep, oblivious to the world outside. The long-awaited moment had finally arrived; you two were bringing your baby boy home.

"Can you believe there's three of us now." You spoke softly, a warm smile spreading across your face.

George chuckled, his heart swelling with pride. "It feels surreal. Like, just look at him! He's perfect!" He replied, stealing another glance at Theo.

You couldn't help but giggle, your nerves slowly dissipating. "Perfect chaos awaits us, I think."

George smiled at you, leaning across to press a sweet kiss to your lips before starting up the car, finally setting of to the comfort of your home that you'd been missing for what seemed like a very long and draining two days.

As George pulled up to your shared home, the familiar sight brought on a strong sense of comfort to the both of you. George quickly hopped out of the car, opening the door for you and opening the door to carefully lift Theo from his car seat straight after, holding him close to his chest as gently as he could.

As the two of you walked inside, the scent of fresh flowers filled the air. A beautiful bouquet of Rose's that Matty and Gabbriette had left in your house yesterday evening with the spare key George had trusted them with when you went into Labour.

Your bedroom had been transformed into a cosy nursery. A changing table your mother had bought in the corner of the room and a soft bedside cot adorned with a comfortable blanket George's mother had crocheted attached to your side of the bed.

George placed Theo gently in his cot, marvelling at how small and fragile he looked. "This is it. Our little family." He said, voice thick with emotion.

"Yeah" You breathed, eyes misting over as you took in the scene in front of you, walking over to George, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso. "Home at last."

——————————————————————————

As evening fell, the two of you settled into a new routine. The soft hum of the baby monitor accompanied the sounds of your voices as you and George cooed over Theo, changing his nappy and feeding him. The calm wrapped around the two of you nicely, but it was short-lived.

Within an hour of Theo being put to bed, he began to stir. The noise of his little movements being picked up by the baby monitor that sat beside you and George in the living room.

The soft gurgles quickly turned into whimpers, and soon, full-fledged cries echoed through the house. The peaceful atmosphere quickly melting away with worry and the need to coddle your baby.

"Shit. Is that our baby?" George spoke, wide-eyed.

"No, it's the fucking neighbours baby. Obviously it's our baby George!" You whispered with a sudden temper, nearly as an act to hide the nerves creeping into your voice.

The two of you jumped up to your feet, making a b-line up the stairs and into your bedroom as Theo's wails grew louder. And quickly, the reality of parenthood started to set in.

"Hey, buddy, I've got you." George spoke, rushing over to the crib. He carefully lifted Theo, holding him close to his chest. "Hey little guy, it's just us. Just me and Mummy."

But Theo wasn't calming down. Instead, he squirmed and cried harder, his tiny fists clenched.

You instantly put your hands out for George to pass Theo to you, which of course he did immediately. You rubbed his back gently, whispering soft shushes to try and lull him back to sleep. "Maybe he's hungry? Or needs a change?"

"I'll go make a bottle, you stay here." George replied, his voice steady, but the eagerness in his eyes betrayed a hint of anxiety.

"Okay, love. I'll check his nappy." You ushered out, moving quickly over to the changing table, trying to manage your own panic while exuding confidence.

The two of you had read all the books, watched all the educational parenting videos, went to (two) prenatal classes, but now being faced with reality, it felt overwhelming.

As George prepared the bottle in the kitchen, you gently changed Theo's nappy, the tiny movements making your heart ache with love. With a clean nappy on, Theo eventually calmed down but only slightly, now letting out soft whimpers instead of full cries.

George eventually returned after what felt like a lifetime, a bottle in hand, and the two of you took turns feeding him whenever he'd get fussy being held by the same person. George held Theo close against his chest once he was fed and burped, sweetly singing to him with his softest voice. "You're okay, mate. Me and Mummy have got you. I promise." He whispered to your baby boy once the song was over. Your heart aching with so much love it was practically painful.

"I think he likes your singing." You teased, a smile breaking through the exhaustion.

"Or maybe he hates it." George deadpanned, eyes twinkling. "Just trying to keep my dad points up."

The smile you gave George was so wide it made your cheeks ache. You couldn't wrap your mind around the reality of George being a father, and a father to your son that you two have had together at that.

"He's so tiny." You whispered, tracing a fingertip over Theo's tiny hand that was wrapped around George's large thumb.

The two of you took turns holding him, savouring every little sound and sigh that slipped from his tiny lips, and somehow, managed to eventually get him back to sleep.

If you had to pinpoint how, it'd probably be your gentle humming and George's fingertip gently tracing the bridge of Theo's nose. Something your own father used to do to you as a baby.

As the two of you settled into bed once the house was somewhat clean and locked up, Theo still peacefully asleep in the crib beside you, you turned your body to face George, fatigue evident in your voice. "I didn't expect it to be this hard. Especially not on the first night. I thought I'd be so prepared because this is all I've ever wanted and all I've been reading about for nine months."

George sighed, leaning back against the headboard, his fingers running through your hair while you cuddled into his side. Something you haven't been able to do in months due to your large baby bump. "Me neither. But we'll figure it out. Together. And don't be so hard on yourself, my love. Not matter how many books you read or parenting podcasts you listened to, it doesn't change that this is our first time doing this whole parenting thing."

George's gaze met yours, the bond between the two of you strengthened by the newly shared experience. "You're already such an amazing dad, George." You spoke softly with your whole heart, placing a kiss on his bicep as your face rested against his shoulder.

"You're already the most amazing and most beautiful mum." George replied, brushing a thumb across the back of your hand that rested on his stomach. "I've got your back always, darling. When he cries, we both cry, right?"

The two of you shared a quiet laugh, the tension from earlier easing in your hearts.

As the hours creeped on, Theo woke again, his cries echoing in the quiet night.

George sighed, dramatically, but there was no hiding the smile on his face. "Alright, round two!"

You chuckled tiredly, rubbing sleep out of your eyes as you moved as quickly as you could to help. "You've got this, rockstar."

Through the long night of feeding, changing, and soothing your son back to sleep, you both eventually found a rhythm, even amidst the chaos.

Moments of humour punctuated the anxiety as George fumbled with nappies while trying to sing lullabies, or when you would try to laugh quietly, half asleep, as Theo hiccupped after a feeding.

At dawn, when the first slivers of sunlight began creeping through the curtains, George found himself holding a peacefully sleeping Theo, nestled against him. You couldn't help but stare at the both of them, heart swelling at the sight.

"Look at you two." you whispered, voice thick with so much emotion it nearly choked you. "You're both so beautiful."

George turned to you, his expression filled with love and gratitude. "I couldn't do any of this without my beautiful wife, you know. And I wouldn't want to either."

The two of you exchanged a tender kiss, the chaos of the night now behind you, replaced with the quiet joy of parenthood.

As the sun rose higher, illuminating your little family, you felt hopeful.

It was no longer just you and George. You were now a team, navigating the unpredictable path of parenthood together. And in this journey, you both knew that you guys would face everything as one.

Just the way it was always meant to be.

[ittakesabitmoremilk]

Ripped at every edge but you're a masterpiece

[2010girlaesthetic]

Men & You Together song The 1975

This video was everything <3333

[bedforddanes75]

george daniel arms and painted nails george daniel arms and painted nails george daniel arms and painted nails george daniel arms and painted nails george daniel arms and painted nails

[cafecanibal]

The 1975 still… at their very best.

Madrid, 27/2/2024.

[iwannaturnintoyou]

if i ever reblog anything thats ai on here can you send me at least four asks calling me a slag Please

[relogioserelogios]

An amazing Roger W. Smith Series 1, unique piece in a 38mm platinum case. The English finished movement is hand engraved with palm tree engraving to the full barrel bridge, fourth and balance cocks. Fitted with a silver, black rhodium plated dial, engraved with palm tree design with inset red gold chapters, name cartouche and Eastern Arabic batons. Red gold hour, minute and seconds hands. . Um incrível Roger W. Smith Série 1, peça única em caixa de platina de 38mm. O movimento com acabamento inglês é gravado à mão com gravações de palmeira. Equipado com um mostrador prateado, banhado a ródio negro, gravado com desenho de palmeira com aneis de ouro rosa inseridos, cartucho de nome e numerais arábicos orientais. Ponteiros das horas, minutos e segundos em ouro vermelho. 📷 @rogerwsmithltd • • #rwsmith #rogersmith #rogerwsmith #georgedaniels #daniels #coaxialescapement #britishwatchmakers #madeonisleofman #designedinisleofman #isleofman #madeingreatbritain #britishwatchmaking#manufacturedingreatbritain #engineturneddial #luxurywatches #bespokewatches @britishwatchmakers @greatcampaign #relogioserelogios https://www.instagram.com/p/CotA-WpLWRk/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[thatshappinessforme]

just thinking…and there’s just something about the damn 19 fucking 75.

[not-alien-girl-v]

Broken Pieces (George Daniel)

warning: drinking, being mean to boyfriend, language

note: merry christmas.

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

You pulled up to this party at 10 o'clock on the dot courtesy of your friend Violet who provided you a ride. She said she had better places to be than third wheeling with you and George all night. You know the truth is that she doesn't like going to parties where she doesn't know a lot of people, but you figured you'd let her have it just this once.

Your top is comfortable tonight but your jeans are digging into your stomach in a bad way, something to do with your seasonal weight gain, something that always happens post-Thanksgiving and pre-Christmas, but George always assures you that he loves your body no matter what 'format' he gets it in. He always had an odd way with words, but the sentiment remains nonetheless.

The door of Matty and George's apartment is already open when you press on it. The air is about 10 degrees hotter inside than the frosty winter air outside, and it's comforting. It always feels like home.

Gazing around the living room, you see a random guy you've never met before in a large hat with the Grinch's face on it, a tasteful choice for a holiday party. You always wonder who the hell these people are that attend your boyfriend and your boyfriend's boyfriend's parties. Sometimes they just feel like extras in a movie set, but maybe you only feel that way since you never go out of your way to talk to the people you don't know.

And why would you, when you spot Ross and George together in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, drinks in hand. George's hair is a mess and he's wearing his black D.A.R.E. shirt but in your mind, he looks beautiful as always. Of course, you'd never tell him that in public.

You skip over to them, day looking better already. "OMG! Is that my bestie?" You bubbly exclaim, opening your arms to Ross and he returns them with a big hug. He smushes you a little uncomfortably, but it feels nice anyway.

He lets you go, "hey bestie," he speaks lowly. He's become well accustomed to your vocabulary, knowing to call you his 'bestie' rather than 'best friend.' You turn to George.

"Hey bitch." You grab his glass out of his hand, taking a sip, and coughing immediately after swallowing. "That's gross."

"Hi, love, when did you get here?" George ignores your initial rudeness.

"Just now. Scooch over, I wanna get in the sandwich." You're referring to standing in between the two men, being in the 'sandwich' as you call it. They both wordlessly create space between them in which you squeeze into.

"Have you guys seen hat guy?" You ask.

"Who?" Ross returns.

"Guy with the Grinch hat?"

"No. Wish I had though. Sounds cool," George looks down at you as he speaks. You decide to take advantage of this opportunity and grab him by the back of the neck, pulling him into a hard kiss that he gladly gives back, smiling into it. Ross makes a retching noise to your right.

"Y/N, wait, I need you to settle an argument. A girl argument," Ross interjects.

"What's a girl argument?"

George sighs in annoyance, "an argument that we, as men, cannot come to a verdict on without the input of a woman. It's stupid, Ross, I told you we don't need to ask a girl about this."

"No, we do. You're stupid. Okay, so. When women are, like, breastfeeding, does the milk come from the center of the nipple or from the whole area?"

"Like a shower head type deal," George adds, forgetting that he's against this argument.

"Yeah like a shower head. Because I say nipple but George says shower head. So what's the truth?" The look on his face is so sincere that you're certain he's completely serious. You glance at George, a similar expression. A prime opportunity to fuck with them.

"It actually comes out of the pores on the boob. Like you know how you have pores on your face? So it's a different type of skin on your boobs and the milk comes from under the skin and through the pores. That's why they sell those tit pore strips to clear out all the crap gets stuck in there so the milk comes out. You ever seen those before?"

"No, I haven't," Ross is astounded.

"Really? That's crazy, I would have never guessed," George nods his head as he speaks like he's really coming to terms with this false truth.

"No, not really, I'm fucking with you. I don't know how it comes out, why would I know? I've never breastfed before."

"Fuck off," Ross rolls his eyes, upset that you really had him going for a moment.

You cackle, happy to mess with them, then turn to George. “George? Sweet baby? Love of my life?”

He groans, shutting his eyes, “yes?”

“Will you go get me a drink and in return I’ll love you forever?”

Sighing, “I’ll be back,” and he leaves a parting kiss on the top of your head.

“Where’s my kiss?” Ross exclaims to the back of George’s head as he walks away, flipping him off as he goes.

“Ugh. Thought he’d never leave. That fucking’ guy, am I right?” You playfully joke to Ross.

“Yeah, what a loser,” Ross adds in, very best friend of him.

“Okay, Ross, what do I get him for Christmas?”

“I’m getting him a lighter with his name on it. Is that too gay?” He asks in full seriousness.

“The lighter or the name?”

“Both.”

“I think it would only be gay if it had your name on it. You’re fine. But that doesn’t answer my question.”

“I thought it did. Don’t get him a lighter.”

“Again, not an answer to my question. If I don’t get him a lighter, what do I get him?”

“Get him a super sick Grinch hat,” he points at Grinch hat guy who is now walking by.

“He’d never wear that shit.”

“It’d be funny though.”

“But for once, I don’t want funny, I want sentimental. Something that shows I love him, since I’m so bad at doing that otherwise.”

“Sex coupons?”

“What are sex coupons?”

He looks you dead in the eye, “let’s put on our thinking caps, use our context clues, why don’t we?”

“Okay, fine, I’m not gonna do that, anyway. It’s lame. And cheap. I may be broke and uncreative but not to that extent. I have dignity.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Do you?”

“Shut up.”

“Here’s your drink, love. ‘S just a soda since we don’t have what you like here,” George suddenly returns with a cup of Sprite in his hand.

“See, even he knows what I like. How am I supposed to compete with that?” You throw your hands up in surrender.

“He’s a little slow. It won’t even matter what you give him, even if it doesn’t mean anything, he’ll love it,” Ross tells you.

“I’m right here,” George takes a sip of your Sprite, eyes bouncing between the two of you in confusion.

“But I need to be a better girlfriend, none of this lame shit. That was just practice, this is the first game of the season.”

“Then just suck his dick and call it a day!” Ross returns your energy.

“Hello?” George asks again.

You turn to him, “hi. Thanks for the drink. Sprite?”

“Yeah, poured it out of a can and everything. Feeling like Gordon Ramsey right now.”

Chuckling, you take the drink out of his hand and sip at it. He comes to stand on the other side of you, completing the sandwich once more. ���And for the record, I think you’re an amazing girlfriend.”

“You would say that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re so nice to me, all the time. Don’t I ever piss you off? Push your buttons just a little too much. Don’t you ever want to go off on me?”

“Of course not, you know I’m not like that.”

You sigh, “yeah, I know.” You pause, then continue, “so, what do you want for Christmas?” You rest your head on the side of his arm (would have been his shoulder if you were taller but it’s like, literally whatever).

“I’d be happy with just a day with you. I don’t need anything fancy, some heartfelt shit. Just some quality time.”

“Really? That’s it?”

“I feel like you want me to give you something more material so you can just buy it. Is that what you want?”

“Yes, please.”

“Okay, if you want to get me something I’ll like, get me some cologne. Something you think smells good. Promise I’ll wear it.”

You hold out your pinky to him. He hooks his with yours, giving a brief shake, then holding onto your hand with both of his. “You look tired already baby. Do you want to lay down?”

“First of all, that’s rude to say. Second of all, you’re right and I hate it. Stop reading me so well.

“So, yes?”

“Yeah…” He nods, happily grabbing your hand and leading you to his room which he had locked for the sake of the party. You turn back and wave goodbye to Ross; you’ll probably fall asleep and see him next tomorrow.

George holds the door open for you and guides you inside. He even pulls back the comforter for you to slip under. Once you do, he cheesily tucks you in, kissing your forehead. “Anything I can do for you, my dear?”

You shake your head no, already feeling too pampered and spoiled for one night.

“Alright,” he kisses your forehead and stands from his kneeled position, dusting his hands off on his pant legs. “I’ll leave you be now. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You still have no idea what cologne to get him, but at least it’s a start. How hard could sex coupons be to make, anyway?”

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Taglist: @indierockgirrl @itssimpleanditgoeslikethis @butyou-callmewhenyourebored @milkluvr8 @americanangel

[cloudsjulett]

[cynically-artemis]

PSYCHOMACHIA // matty healy (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/story/262211736-psychomachia-matty-healy?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_myworks&wp_uname=flcridakilos&wp_originator=mmJufvh2TdLo%2FyUlwIV2u6I5sx%2F%2BqkpgBA277k4tFicpshksBSf6XCkbBPx%2FCsrak6R8Y3Sk1P5fD70PdLJ%2BWS9tEo%2Bt0deDf37e4h7ev24fdUfNO6lBX7yIR1e6OvU8 "The studio was shared and it was a pain bumping into other bleary-eyed musicians other than your band mates at three o-clock in the morning, especially when the person you bump into is a pretentious, egotistical wanker who you were up against for best British group at the Brits the year prior." A slow burn enemies-to-lovers-esque fanfic where Esther Jones is the lead singer of the British pop rock girl band 'Ultra-Femme' and is dealing with her intolerable studio neighbour, Matthew Healy. TW // nsfw content, mentions of drugs and alcohol.

[ittakesabitmoremilk]

Hearing this song live is arguably one of the most life changing experiences a girl can have.

[2010girlaesthetic]

"I'll never make it right If you don't wander off"

The 1975, fallingforyou