#georgeclarkey

[sweetfcwn]

handsy george😝 he just always needs to be touching u

always - george clarke.

first post in a while so i made it a long one! i hope you enjoy <3

it starts small. it always does.

you’re at the kitchen counter, half-distracted while scrolling on your phone, trying to remember what you came in here for. george appears behind you like it’s muscle memory, arms snaking around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder.

“what are we doing?” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear.

you lean into him instinctively. “trying to remember if i wanted tea or toast.”

“i vote toast,” he says, already moving to grab bread one-handed, his other still snug around your waist like you might float away if he lets go.

he’s always touching you. always. not in a demanding way—not like he needs something from you, but like it grounds him. a hand on your back when you walk into a room. his fingers brushing yours when you’re watching something on the couch. his thigh pressed against yours in the uber even when there’s plenty of space.

you used to think he didn’t notice he was doing it. now you know better.

-

later, you’re sitting on the couch, knees tucked up, some random show playing that neither of you are really watching. george has you pulled into him, your legs draped across his lap, and his hand is running slowly—absentmindedly—up and down your shin.

you glance down. “you’re doing that thing again.”

he hums, not looking away from the screen. “what thing?”

“you’re petting me like a cat.”

he smirks. “you purr when i do it.”

you roll your eyes, but you don’t move away. instead, you shift just enough to let your cheek rest on his shoulder.

george drops a kiss to your temple and keeps his hand moving, slow, warm, familiar. “you love it.”

you do. not that you’d admit it out loud.

-

you’re out with friends one night—some crowded pub with too-loud music and sticky tables. george is in full social mode, laughing at some story arthur’s telling, but even then, his hand finds the back of your chair. then your knee. then the crook of your elbow.

he doesn’t even look down when his fingers find yours, lacing them together under the table.

you try not to melt on the spot.

“he’s so handsy with you,” liv teases when george goes to the bar.

you shrug, cheeks warm. “he always is.”

and he really is. it’s not performative. it’s not just in public. in fact, if anything, he’s worse in private—less filtered, more shameless about the way he pulls you onto his lap while you’re trying to get dressed, or slides a hand under your shirt while you’re brushing your teeth, like he can’t go ten minutes without touching you.

he never asks. he doesn’t need to. it’s never possessive, never too much. it’s just george being george.

-

one lazy sunday, you’re both holed up in bed past noon. the curtains are drawn, and the world feels quiet. you’re on your stomach, half-asleep, and george’s fingers are tracing slow shapes along your spine.

he’s barely awake. you can tell by the way his breath is soft and even, but his hand doesn’t stop. it moves on instinct, warm against your skin.

“you’re so tactile,” you mumble into the pillow.

george makes a sleepy noise behind you. “means i like you.”

“you say that like you didn’t literally cling to me in your sleep.”

“you’re warm,” he murmurs. “and soft. and you smell nice. ‘course i’m gonna cling to you.”

you snort. “you’re like a giant koala.”

he hooks an arm around your waist and drags you back against him. “shut up. i’m adorable.”

you laugh, letting him pull you in, letting his hand settle under your shirt again, splayed across your stomach like it belongs there.

(which, annoyingly, it kind of does.)

-

he does it when you’re getting ready to go out, too.

you’ll be in front of the mirror, fixing your hair or trying to decide between two tops, and he’ll come up behind you—always barefoot, always quiet—and wrap his arms around your waist.

“this one,” he’ll say, gesturing lazily to the shirt you’re not wearing. “shows off your collarbones.”

“why do you care about my collarbones?”

“don’t know,” he shrugs, kissing the space beneath your ear. “they’re hot.”

you roll your eyes, but you change anyway.

sometimes he just wants to sit on the floor while you do your skincare, his head resting on your thigh. he doesn’t talk. he just wants to be there, fingers drawing idle lines along your leg, watching you in the mirror like he’s never seen you before.

and then later, when you’re lying in bed, freshly washed and soft, he’ll be on you again—hands under the hem of your shirt, palm over your heart.

-

one night, after a particularly long day, you climb into bed feeling worn out and quiet.

george doesn’t ask questions. he just pulls you into his chest, one hand sliding up your back and the other cradling your head. he doesn’t speak, doesn’t push—just holds you like that’s the only thing that matters.

you think about how easily he reads you. how he always knows what kind of touch you need—soft and grounding, or playful and teasing, or firm and steady when your mind won’t stop racing.

his hand smooths down your spine again, slow and repetitive, and you let your body relax into his.

“you okay?” he whispers after a while, pressing a kiss to your hair.

you nod against his chest. “just tired.”

“you’re safe,” he says quietly. “i’ve got you.”

and he does. he always does.

-

sometimes it’s teasing, too. the way he sits behind you on the sofa and rests his chin on your shoulder, whispering commentary in your ear while you scroll your phone. the way his hand slips under your hoodie just to rest there—no agenda, just warmth.

other times, it’s… not so innocent.

like when he passes behind you in the kitchen and lets his hand drag across your lower back.

or when you’re doing laundry and he pulls you toward him by your waistband, murmuring something low and smug into your neck.

or when you’re brushing your teeth and he plants himself behind you, wraps both arms around you and says, “need my daily cuddle. don’t care that you’ve got toothpaste in your mouth.”

you roll your eyes and mumble something about personal space, but he just sways you side to side like you’re dancing in the bathroom and hums tunelessly into your hair.

you never pull away. not really.

-

there’s something reassuring about the way george is always touching you. like if he keeps a hand on you, he knows you’re real. here. his.

sometimes it’s his fingers brushing yours as you walk down the street. sometimes it’s his hand on your thigh under the table at dinner, or his foot nudging yours gently when you’re out with friends.

you don’t need the attention. you’re not the clingy type.

but somehow, with him, it’s different. comforting. like an anchor.

you’ve started reaching back now, too. looping your arm through his when you cross the road. curling into his side when he’s editing videos, your fingers fiddling with the hem of his hoodie.

he never complains. he leans into it.

“touch-starved,” he teases once, smiling against your neck.

“takes one to know one,” you shoot back.

he just laughs and pulls you closer.

-

the first time you notice he really can’t go long without touching you, you test a theory.

you sit on the couch beside him and fold your arms. nothing dramatic—just casual. you keep your hands to yourself. you wait.

two minutes pass.

george shifts.

three minutes.

he glances at you.

four minutes.

“you alright?” he asks, already leaning toward you.

“yep.”

“why are you sitting like that?”

“like what?”

“like…” he gestures vaguely. “all self-contained.”

you grin. “no reason.”

he narrows his eyes, then slides over and practically throws himself on top of you. you squeak as he wraps himself around you like a blanket, smug and victorious.

“better,” he mutters.

you laugh into his shoulder. “you’re ridiculous.”

“shhh,” he says. “you love it.”

and you do.

god, you do.

-

it’s bedtime, finally, and george flops into bed dramatically, grabbing your hand before you can even get under the covers properly.

“can’t sleep without you,” he whines.

“you say that every night.”

“and it’s true every night.”

you roll your eyes, but your heart’s full.

you slide into bed and george immediately pulls you into him, one leg hooked around yours, his hand settling on your hip like it’s lived there for years.

“george?”

“mm?”

“why are you so handsy?”

he shifts, propping himself on one elbow to look at you properly. his eyes are sleepy, but warm.

“dunno,” he says, brushing your hair back from your face. “you’re my favorite person. i just like being near you.”

you bite back a smile. “you are a koala.”

he grins, then leans down to kiss you—soft, slow, full of everything unspoken.

when he pulls back, he murmurs, “you make me feel safe. so i touch you all the time to make sure you’re still here.”

you blink, surprised by the quiet honesty.

“i’m not going anywhere,” you whisper.

“i know,” he says, settling back down, arms curling around you again. “but just in case.”

his touch lingers. it always does.

and you fall asleep warm, wrapped in him.

just the way he likes it.

taglist: @tomhollandismyhusband1996 @phantomveb @just-yazz @wherethezoes-at

[authortelevision]

“No hesitation. It’s literally George Clarke.”₊˚⊹♡

words: 2,312 ✦ .ᐟ

♯┆george clarke smut, friends to lovers, cunnilingus, penetration

while very drunk you confess to george how attractive you think he is. leading to a written and signed contract that allows him to do whatever he wants to you, whenever he pleases.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The pub was warm and loud, the kind of place where voices bounced off the wooden beams and glasses clinked endlessly. You were way too many drinks past tipsy, and the world was beyond just tilting in that soft, familiar way that made everything seem funnier than it should. George sat across from you at the round, slightly sticky table, surrounded by your friends, all of whom had that casual kind of good-looking presence that felt unfair when gathered in one group.

Someone had started a game, but it had long drifted from that and was now about ranking everyone’s attractiveness in the group. It was lighthearted at first, but soon, due to far too many pints and the safety of friendship, had began bordering on pure confessions.

“Alright, alright,” one of Arthur said, pointing his half-empty beer bottle around like a microphone. “Let’s be honest—if we had to pick the fittest here, It’s definitely George, right?”

The table erupted in overlapping shouts and exaggerated groans of protest. People threw out names, deflecting or tossing compliments back and forth, but the consensus was obvious from the beginning, it was definitely George.

“Alright, alright, we get it,” George said, laughing and leaning back in his chair. His cheeks were tinged pink, probably from the alcohol but also maybe from the compliments. “I’m flattered, really.”

You, meanwhile, had been quiet for a bit too long. Not because you disagreed, but because the alcohol had dissolved whatever barrier normally kept your thoughts in check. You were watching him laugh, the way his head tipped back, his hair slightly messy but in a way that somehow worked better than if he’d tried to style it. And, well, drunk-you thought it was probably time to say something.

“You’re not just fit, though,” you blurted, cutting through the noise. The table went quiet for a moment before bursting into laughter again, assuming you were joking. But you weren’t done.

“No, I mean it,” you said, gesturing sloppily at George. “Like, George could literally hook up with me anytime. No questions asked.”

The laughter shifted, turning into a mix of shocked giggles and playful hoots.

“Wait, what?” George said, leaning forward now, his grin somewhere between amused and incredulous.

“I’m just saying,” you continued, undeterred. “If he showed up at my place like, ‘Hey, let’s go,’ I wouldn’t even ask why. I’d just—” You made a vague, sweeping gesture, nearly knocking over your drink. “No hesitation. It’s literally George Clarke. He’s fit.”

George was laughing so hard he was practically doubled over, one hand gripping the edge of the table for support. “I’m sorry, I need this in writing,” he managed to get out between gasps.

Without thinking, you grabbed a napkin from the table and fumbled for a pen. Someone handed you one, either out of encouragement or sheer disbelief at what you were doing.

“Fine,” you said, squinting hard at the napkin as if it were a legal document. Your handwriting was atrocious, big, looping letters that slanted off the edges of the napkin, but you managed to scrawl something that resembled:

‘George Clarke can hook up with me anytime. Whatever and whenever he wants.’

You signed it with a weak signature, your name barely legible, and slid it across the table to him.

“There,” you said, leaning back in your chair like you’d just closed a business deal. “It’s official.”

George picked up the napkin, holding it delicately between his fingers like it was a priceless artifact. He stared at it for a moment before bursting into laughter again. “This is going on my fridge,” he said, tucking it into his jacket pocket.

The night carried on, the napkin forgotten by you as the drinks kept coming and the conversations grew even more chaotic. By the time you stumbled home, you’d all but erased the memory of your drunken declaration.

You woke up with a pounding headache and vague, mortifying flashes of the night before. Something about George. Something about a napkin. You groaned and buried your face in your pillow, praying it had all been a dream.

Meanwhile, across the city, George stood in his kitchen, sipping a cup of tea and staring at the napkin stuck to his fridge with a magnet. He smirked to himself, thinking back to all the ways he’d imagined you in his bed.

You weren’t expecting anyone. It was late, a quiet Wednesday evening, and you’d just settled onto the sofa with a blanket and some tea. The sound of the doorbell startled you, pulling you out of your own head.

When you opened it, you were met with the last person you expected to see at this hour.

George stood there, the napkin, the napkin, held loosely between his fingers. His hair was slightly messy, like he’d run his hands through it too many times on the way over, and his signature wide smile tugged at the corners of his lips. But his eyes held something else tonight.

“Hey,” he said casually, as if he wasn’t standing on your doorstep with a piece of evidence that could end your sanity.

“George?” you blurted, clutching the edge of the door. “What are you doing here?”

He leaned lazily against the doorframe, holding up the napkin like a winning lottery ticket. “I thought it was time I cashed this in.”

Your stomach flipped, and heat rose to your cheeks. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered, already mortified. “I didn’t think you were actually keeping that thing.”

“Oh, I’ve kept it,” he said, his voice coated with amusement as he waved the crumpled napkin. “Are you kidding? This is priceless.” He tilted his head, stepping just close enough for you to feel the warmth radiating off him. “Besides, you always tell me that drunk words are sober thoughts and I think it still counts when you wrote this.”

“George—”

“Relax,” he interrupted, his voice teasing. “I’m not here to embarrass you.” He paused, his eyes flicking down to your lips and back up to your eyes. “Although, if I’m being honest, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

You swallowed hard, your breath like a rock in your throat. “Thinking about what?”

He grinned, stepping into your flat. “What you said.” He lowered his voice. “The way you looked at me when you said it. The way you wrote it down without a second thought.”

You wanted to crawl under a rock, or maybe pull him closer. You hadn’t decided yet.

“You’re being ridiculous,” you said, trying to laugh it off, but the way he was looking at you made it impossible to breathe, let alone think straight.

“Am I?” he murmured, taking another step toward you, closing the distance completely. He leaned down slightly, his face scanning your expression. “Because I think sober you meant every word.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no sound came out. George’s grin widened at your silence, and he reached up, lightly brushing his fingers along your jawline.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he said, his tone shifting, his playful confidence turning more intimate. “Tell me you didn’t mean it, and I’ll leave right now.”

The challenge hung in the air, and you hated how easily he could unravel you with just a few words. But he wasn’t wrong, not even close.

“I…” you started.

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk tugging at his lips again. “I’m waiting.”

“You’re not wrong,” you admitted finally, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

George’s smile turned triumphant, and he closed the last inch of space between you, his hand settling on your waist. “That’s what I thought.”

The kiss came fast, catching you off guard but leaving no room for hesitation. His lips were soft, warm, and just demanding enough to make your head spin. His hand slid up to cradle your face, tilting your head slightly to deepen the kiss, while his thumb brushed against your cheek.

When he pulled back, you were breathless, your heart racing as his forehead rested lightly against yours.

“So,” he murmured, “does this mean I get full rights to the ‘whatever I want’ part of the deal? Or do we need to renegotiate?”

You laughed, your hands gripping the front of his shirt to steady yourself. “Oh, shut up.”

He grinned, pressing another kiss to your lips. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

But soon his tongue demanded entry, and you opened, moaning softly as he explored your mouth with a possessive hunger.

He broke the kiss, leaving you gasping for air, and a wicked smile played on his lips. "I want you, right here, right now," he lifted you, making you wrap your legs around his waist, and carried you to the bedroom.

The room spun as he tossed you onto the bed, the soft mattress cushioning your fall. George loomed over you, his eyes burning with an intense desire that made your skin prickle with anticipation. He grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand.

"You’re beautiful," he said, his voice rough. "And I promise you, you’ll never forget this."

You struggled playfully, testing his hold, but George only tightened his grip, his fingers digging into your sensitive skin. The pain was pleasurable, a sensation that only furthered your arousal. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear, and whispered, "Be a good girl and take what I give you."

As he spoke, his free hand trailed down your body, tracing the curve of your breast, then lower, until he reached the waistband of your jeans. He undid the button and zipper, sliding them down your legs, leaving you exposed in your underwear.

George's eyes darkened as he took in the sight of your naked body. He ran his fingers along the edge of your underwear, making you squirm under his touch. "Beautiful," he whispered,"but I want to see all of you."

With that, he tore the flimsy fabric, baring your body to his hungry gaze. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but the look in his eyes promised pleasure beyond measure. He stroked your thighs, spreading them apart.

"Look at me," he commanded. You opened your eyes, meeting his intense gaze as he lowered his head, his tongue tracing a path from your navel to the throbbing feeling between your legs. You gasped, arching into his touch, as his tongue flicked and teased, driving you wild.

He sucked on your clit, drawing it into his mouth, and you cried out, your hips bucking off the bed. His fingers joined in, delving into you, stretching and filling you as his tongue continued.

The pleasure was overwhelming, building to a crescendo. You were close, so close, and George seemed to sense it. He released your wrists, and you threaded your fingers through his hair, holding him to you as your orgasm crashed over you. Your body shook, and you cried out his name, a plea for more.

But George wasn't done with you yet. He rose, his hard body casting a shadow over you, and ripped open the button of his jeans. His thick, erect cock sprang free, and he positioned himself at your entrance, teasing you with the tip.

"Please," you begged, your voice hoarse from the moans and gasps.

"Okay baby," he replied.

With one swift thrust, he filled you, so completely that you cried out in surprise. He held himself there, letting you adjust to his size, his eyes never leaving yours. Then, he began to move, withdrawing almost entirely before slamming back into you, over and over, each thrust harder and messier than the last.

His hands gripped your throat, his fingers curled around your neck forcing your breath to settle just above his grip. You gasped, your eyes widening as you struggled for breath, but he held you in his gaze, his light blue eyes burning into your soul.

"You’re such a good girl for me" he grunted, his voice in harsh gasps. "Tell me how much you want me, baby."

"Fuck… George," you managed to whisper, your body branded by George’s hot strong hands. "I want you, please George I need you so much."

George burrowed into your neck, biting your skin roughly, not bothering to soothe the pain, only kissing you aggressively. His pace quickened, George’s hips pounding into yours. The pleasure was something you had never experienced before, your body was craving George’s release so hard, it was bordering on pain, but you welcomed it, craving George deep within you, the smell of sweat and his cologne consumed all that was left of your senses. His fingers tightened around your throat, and he pounded deep into you one final time, his body stiffening.

As he released himself inside you, his grip on your neck loosened, and he collapsed onto the bed beside you, both of you panting. You turned to face him, your breathe slowly becoming less laboured, and saw the satisfied smile on his face.

"George stop smiling you dick” you weakly whisper.

George panted out a light laugh, “Sorry, just think about this a lot”

“You’ve been thinking about me?” you state as you roll onto your side cuddling into his chest.

“I’ve done a lot more than just thinking about you,” George confesses as he adjusts his arm to place his hand in your hair, playing with the strands as they fall through his fingers.

“Yeah?” is all you can say as the exhaustion floods your mind.

“Yeah. But I can’t believe there’s written proof of how bad you wanted me.” he laughs as his words become muffled in your hair.

You cringe at his words, hiding your face in your hands. “That’s so fucking embarrassing oh my god!”

“Yeah maybe it is, but there’s no limit I hope.”

“There will be if you’re gonna be annoying tomorrow,” you mention.

“Tomorrow? Was I that good?”

“Fuck off.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

authortv note: I WILL POST SOON, i’ve been so unmotivated to post so if you like this PLS PLS PLS let me know cause i need some motivation !! LOVE YOU SO MUCH !!

MERRY CHRISTMAS <333

[thedyingliiight]

𝙄𝙁 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙒𝙀𝙍𝙀 𝘿𝘼𝙏𝙉𝙂 𝙒𝙄𝙇𝙇𝙉𝙀...

slight NSFW, arguments and fluff mentions!

(@fallinforhappiness) — REQUESTS ARE OPEN

IN THE RELATIONSHIP…

- will is a teasing kind of boyfriend, he’ll either insult you or be your biggest fan.

‘do you like my dress, will?’

‘no…’

‘what?’

‘just kiddin’ darlin’, you look beautiful.’

- you are the one wearing the trousers in the relationship without a doubt.

- every weekend, if there is a formula one race you guys will watch it, and sometimes he will even take you to the races.

- you’re always working behind the camera when he films with james or mikey.

- aby and orla are literally your work sisters, you’ll take the piss out the boys consistently with them.

- you and james consistently argue over who is actually in the relationship with will.

‘he hangs out with me all the time!’

‘james, i literally sleep with him.’

‘y/n!’

‘it’s trueeee.’

- you guys makes the dirtiest jokes consistently.

- there are a million inside jokes between the two of you that nobody ever understands.

- literally the sweetest when you’re on your period or ill, will do anything for you; will go out to the shop and buy you anything, will lay his hands on your stomach to ease the pain.

- he’s your hype man.

- your hands are always in his hair, if you’re out, you’ll fix his hair: you’re just obsessed with his hair.

- he wants to spend every waking hour with you so before you finally move in together, he was spending every night at yours. - if you go anywhere without him, he encourages you to wear something of his and he will DRENCH it in his aftershave.

‘jeez will, this jumper reeks of you.’

‘as it should, pet.’

- his hand will always be on your thigh, if you’re sat together he will place his hand there like it’s a muscle memory.

- will was never a romantic before he met you, but you forced him to watch romcoms which he now looks to as inspiration when he wants date ideas.

- you guys without fail with make one night a week to spend time with one another.

- he’s the kind of man to offer to carry all of your stuff and then complain about it afterwards.

‘your bag is so fuckin heavy.’

‘you asked to hold it, will!’

- he goes on runs with you all the time 😉

- he definitely has a polaroid of you and him in the back of his phone, which he proudly shows off in any conversation with anybody new.

- you guys share a playlist with one another, which mostly consists of james’ music and sam fender. (i love sam so much and i know will does too.)

- he’s your uber driver.

‘willlllllll….’

‘ugh fine, i’ll give you a lift.’

IN ARGUMENTS…

- you both match eachothers energy, if he’s shouting so are you, if you are calm so is he.

- you both are quite mature when it comes to arguing, it’s always for valid reasons, nothing silly.

‘will, you said you’d come and meet me but didn’t!’

‘i was busy, pet!’

‘well you couldn’t said that, but you didn’t!’

- you guys would probably end up going to sleep and forgetting about the argument by the morning.

- neither of you hold grudges after the fact.

- you end up making jokes out of it, like using what one said against the other person in a jokey style.

- he does petty things in arguments just to piss you off.

‘will! you put my cup on the fucking top shelf!’

‘i know, my love, it’s supposed to be there.’

‘no it isn’t, get it down.’

‘no. not until you say please.’

‘ugh fuck off.’

- if you’re giving him the silent treatment, he’ll most DEFINITELY try and win you over by doing things that drive you crazy (sometimes sexual 😋).

NSFW!!…

- this man is a whore for makeout sessions, the steamy kind.

- his grip on your hips never subsides, he’s obsessed with holding your hips.

- always wants you on top, cowgirl is a go to.

- very dominant but without meaning to be.

‘take your top off. now.’

‘damn. okay.’

‘no, no, no. i didn’t mean to be harsh, pet.’

- you always end up clawing his back up.

- will always end up making you laugh midway through sex.

‘will you can’t make me laugh when i’m about to ride you.’

‘i just did.’

- all he does is smirk.

- you consistently pull his hair and he loves it.

[themdera]

Cast Aside

We all need a little help sometimes and that’s okay :)

“Alright, George,” you say, turning the taps on and letting warm water fill the tub. “Bath’s almost ready.”

He’s perched on the closed toilet lid, his broken arm resting carefully in its sling. The pout on his face is comically exaggerated. “This is humiliating. The boys will absolutely rinse me if they find out ”

“It’s not, they won’t” you reply, fighting back a smile. “Plenty of people take baths.”

“Yeah, but not because they can’t shower themselves,” he grumbles, shooting a pointed look at his cast.

“Well, that’s what happens when you launch yourself off a ski jump like you’re in the Olympics,” you tease.

He groans, tipping his head back dramatically. “I’m a tragic figure. Broken body. Broken pride.”

“And you’re about to have a broken ego if you don’t stop whining,” you retort, crossing your arms. “Come on, George. It’s just a bath.”

He glares at you half-heartedly, but when you arch an eyebrow, he sighs in defeat. “Fine, but you owe me.”

“You’re literally the one who asked me to help,” you remind him, biting back a laugh as you help him stand.

With a bit of maneuvering (and several complaints about his arm and his dignity), you manage to guide him out of his clothes and into the tub. He stares at it like it’s a life sentence.

“It’s just water, George,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“Easy for you to say. You don’t have a giant chunk of plaster on your arm,” he quips, but he carefully steps in anyway, lowering himself into the water with your help. Once he’s settled, he leans back, his frown finally softening.

“There. Not so bad, huh?” you say, grabbing the showerhead and turning it on.

“Fine,” he grumbles. “But only because you’re here.”

“How romantic,” you deadpan, aiming the showerhead at his head.

He twists to look at you, already grinning. “Speaking of romantic, how about a kiss?”

“George, sit still,” you warn, holding the showerhead just out of reach. “If you move, I’m going to soak your cast.”

“Go ahead. Then I’ll have an excuse to stay in here longer with you,” he says with a wink.

You groan, shaking your head as you start to rinse his hair. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m adorable,” he corrects, grinning wider.

Despite his antics, you manage to get him cleaned up, carefully washing his mullet as he continues to try (and fail) to be helpful. Finally, you set the showerhead down, satisfied with your work.

“There. Done.” you smiled down at him.

“Not quite,” he says, his grin turning sly. “You still haven’t joined me.”

“George—”

“C’mon,” he coaxes, his voice soft. “The water’s warm. And it’s lonely in here without you.”

You sigh, unable to resist the warmth in his eyes. “You’re the worst,” you mutter, slipping out of your clothes and sliding into the tub behind him.

The water ripples as you settle in, wrapping your arms around his chest. He leans back against you with a contented sigh, resting his head on your shoulder.

“This is nice,” he murmurs, his voice low.

You press a kiss to his damp hair, smiling. “Yeah, it is.”

For a moment, the room is silent save for the soft sound of the water. Then George tilts his head slightly, his voice teasing but tender.

“I’m very happy I broke my arm,” he says softly.

You laugh, resting your chin on his head. “George, we regularly do this you regularly steal my Lush Bath Bombs. You didn’t need to break your arm for it.”

He chuckles, nuzzling your neck. “Yeah, but now I have an excuse to make you take care of me.”

“Don’t push your luck,” you reply, though the smile on your face betrays you.

He hums, a quiet, happy sound, and you feel his body relax completely against yours. As much as you tease him, you know there’s nowhere else either of you would rather be.

———————————-

Part 1 of my Arthur Hill fic coming soon👀

[dwclarkey]

AFTER DARK — g.clarke ⋆｡˚

— summary

your boyfriend brings you on a trip to new york and you make use of your hotel balcony, that’s it really x x x

— a/n

hihi so this is the first time i’ve ever actually uploaded on tumblr & also my first smut lolll uh sorry if this is bad pls don’t be mean ty xx

— contains

sexual content, 18+, hair pulling, spitting, fingering, eating out, finger sucking, exhibitionism, praise, lots more but i can’t think straight atm, oh and slight fluff at the end, only slight, mdni!

it was just hours ago you were wandering the streets of new york and becoming a tourist, taking in all the sights of this beautiful city. however, you seemed to currently be backed up against your hotel balcony railing with your boyfriend’s lips on yours, hungry, like he hadn’t eaten in days.

his hands roamed all over your body, your face, your hips, everywhere he could reach. you could tell that he was hungry. hungry for you. your body. he just wanted you. you felt his tongue run against your bottom lip and your breath hitched. he chuckled against your mouth and you moaned quietly, giving him easy access into your mouth. your tongues fought against each other with desperate rhythm, both groaning into each others mouths.

you both pulled away for air, foreheads resting against each other. his breathing suddenly became erratic and his eyes darkened, pupils dilating. he looks at you in the eyes, lifting your chin up with his finger, making you gasp slightly. he smirked at you, tilting his head to the side to look at you.

“you’re so beautiful, you know that?”

you blushed, moving your head to the side to look away. he cupped your cheek and stroked it with his thumb, smiling at you.

“don’t hide from me. i want to see your face. so beautiful. my beautiful girl.”

you looked up at him and smiled, his eyes instantly softening.

“turn around for me” his eyes wandered all over the dress you were wearing that showed your body off as you faced your back to him and leant back against him. he groaned as he wrapped an arm around your waist as the other trailed up your body and grabbed one of your tits, squeezing it slightly which made you whine a little bit louder than you imagined. he chuckled in your ear, making you shiver from the sudden cold air.

george’s hand on your tit moved and you felt his thumb tracing your bottom lip slowly as if it was waiting for permission to enter you. you opened your mouth slightly and he instantly pushed his thumb in there and your lips closed, sucking it slightly. he groaned slightly in response to this.

“fuck, you love my fingers in your mouth don’t you, you filthy slut”

he growled in your ear, making you completely melt in his arms.

“stay still, you’re not going anywhere”

george slowly removed his thumb out of your mouth and his hand which was wrapped around your waist slowly travelled up your body, touching every curve and dip he could find before ending up teasing your neck and gently squeezing it making you whimper.

“oh darling, such pretty sounds you make for me”

he whispered in your ear biting it slightly, him chuckling at your reaction.

“please… george…”

you whined out, his other hand now cupping your other tit.

“hm? please what?”

you could feel him smirking against your neck as he kissed it softly, occasionally biting it or sucking. there was definitely going to be marks in the morning.

“turn around”

he demanded, quickly moving his hands off your body, much to your dismay. you did as he said, turning around slowly and leaning back up against the railing.

george looked you up and down and you swore you could’ve seen his eyes darken even more then they already were. he moved closer to you, trapping you again. his leg suddenly moved inbetween yours, spreading them apart.

“you’re not to move, understood?”

he stared at you, smirking.

you nodded, your eyes never leaving his.

“no, use your words. let me hear you say it.”

he groaned.

you suddenly gulped and you could feel your whole lower body heating up.

“i understand.”

you smiled innocently up at him to which he smiled back at you and nodded.

“good. now relax, darling. let me take care of you.”

one of his hands trailed down your body once again making sure he touches every part of you. his eyes begin the dilate even more than they were and eventually he stopped. you watched as he knelt down on the ground, his eyes never leaving yours. you let out a soft whine at the sight, him smirking up at you.

“keep these legs open for me” he kissed along your bare thighs teasing you ever so slightly, making you shiver. he rolled the bottom of your dress up slightly, smirking at the sight. he lazily lent in and placed a kiss on your clit, never removing eye contact with you. he continued to tease you leaving just little kisses along your inner thighs and clit making you groan.

“please… do something..” you huffed out, making him chuckle.

“patience, darling.” he smirked up at you. you hated how cocky he was but you hated how attractive he was whilst being cocky. it was annoying.

all of a sudden your leg got thrown over his shoulder and he let his tongue hungrily explore you, licking up and down extremely slowly as he shut his eyes and engulfed more of you. george left you a trembling mess above him and he could feel your legs giving out on you making him grip hold of you tighter.

you grabbed hold of his hair as he continued to explore you, slightly pulling on it making him groan into you, leaving shivers all down your body. his tongue continued to move perfectly against you, each lick getting you closer and closer to the edge. you gasped as you felt a finger easily enter you, and he pulled his face away.

“fuck, so wet, so perfect for me” he mumbled under his breath. he looked back up at you and smirked as he began to move his finger faster, curling it to the exact spot where you could’ve sworn you were about to explode. your panting became erratic and you moaned louder then you already were, your whole body now shaking which made him remove his finger. you frowned at him as he stood up, chuckling at you.

“not yet. be patient” he lifted your chin up with his finger and his lips were back on yours, allowing you to taste yourself. you both moaned into the kiss and his hand reached up to your hair and slightly pulled it back, making you moan. he smirked at your reaction, pulling more.

“you love getting your hair pulled by me, don’t you, darling?” george whispered in your ear, biting it slightly.

you nodded, letting out a slight whimper.

“hm, that’s my girl.” he caressed your cheek and smiled at you before spinning you around. “now bend over for me.” george demanded, his hands tracing over you as your whole body leant over the rail.

“fuck..” he breathed out, his hands gripping onto your hips as he moved towards you, trapping you against the railing. you could feel his body lean over you and he kissed your shoulder.

“so beautiful” you felt one of his hands run up your body and reached around to your neck, gripping it slightly.

“are you gonna be good for me?” you nodded in response. “no, let me hear you.” he growled.

“yes.. im gonna be good..” you whimpered slightly.

you heard a belt buckle behind you and your breath automatically hitched, and you gripped onto the railing harder, making your knuckles go white.

he started groaning behind you, his hands coming down onto your ass, slapping it. you yelped out ultimately making your legs feel like jelly. george chuckled behind you and you felt something warm and hard line up at your entrance, making you gasp. he teased you slightly, rubbing his dick up and down you as his other hand gripped in your hair, pulling it again.

“stop teasing” you groaned, making him chuckle. “where’s the fun in that?”

you whined, trying to push more back into him.

“so needy, darling. all you have to do is ask” he said in a low voice. “please..” you whine.

“please what, hm? come on.. use your words for me” george grabbed your ass.

“please.. fuck me george.. make me feel good” you whimpered softly. “yeah, want me to make you feel good, darling?” he whispered, as he slowly entered you, making you both groan. he started slowly, allowing you to,e to adjust to him. his hand gripped harder in your hair, pulling you back.

he slowly started to rock faster into you, his panting getting faster and more erratic, his other hand gripping onto your hip tightly.

“fuck, you’re doing so well for me, darling. let me hear you, baby. let the whole city know who you belong to.” george whispered into your ear, both hands now gripping onto your hips, his breathing getting erratic and thrusts getting deeper therefore making your moans become louder and louder.

“that’s it, that’s my girl. let them hear you.” george’s hands made it to your neck and gripped tightly as his rhythm became slightly irregular.

one hand reached up to grab your hair again, pulling it back tight. “open up for me” he growled into your ear. you opened up your mouth and he spat in it, before instantly pushing your head back down and his hand returned to its tight grip back on your neck.

“please george.. im so close” you cried out, your whole body shaking as his hands struggle to stay on your neck as sweat drips all over both of you. he groaned, his thrusts becoming harder and messier than before, allowing both of you to moan even louder then you were. “fuck.. always do so so well for me, don’t you. my girl. such a good girl. come for me, darling”

this then sent you over the edge, letting out one final moan as you finished all over him making him groan in pleasure. “fuck.. that’s it” he growled, still moving his hips fast. “im close too, darling.. get on your knees for me, be a good girl.”

george slowly pulled out of you, watching as your release spilled out of you, almost making him finish right there and then. he watched you as you got on his knees for him, your eyes never leaving his.

“fuck.. gonna make me finish by just looking at you” he cupped your chin and then trailed it towards the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. “just stay there, stay right there.. fuck” he groaned as he stroked himself and looking at all of your features. your perfect features.

you smiled up at him innocently and the grip on the back of your neck got tighter which usually indicated he was about to cum right here and now. “open up baby, let me see that pretty tongue of yours” you did as he said, and his eyes darkened and he clenched them shut for a second, groaning and panting messily.

seconds later you felt him grip the top of your head and shove his dick into your throat, letting out a moan as you felt the warm, salty liquid hit the back of your throat. you licked him clean, leaving small kisses on the top of his tip, smiling.

george looked down at you and cupped your cheek, patting it gently.

“you’re so beautiful, you know that?” he smiled down at you, rubbing his thumb on your cheek.

you blushed, looking away from him which he let out a chuckle to. “you’re so shy, how can you be so shy after that?” you giggled at him and you stood up slowly, your legs shaking.

“woah.. hey, come on. i’ve got you. let’s go run you a bath, yeah? you’re okay..” he helped you up and placed and arm around your shoulder before kissing your forehead and walking towards your shared bathroom and running you both a warm bath, to which you both cleaned each other and shared the occasional kiss on the head.

it was safe to say that this happened every night you were here, and it got better everytime.

[orchidniins]

Finally Home | George Clarke

Summary: Where George is finally home after a long 2 weeks on tour. Pairing: George Clarke x gn!Reader Warning: Fluff Word count: 950+ A/N: Thanks anon for this request! How the writers block has been eating away at me this week. This ones short, but longer one coming out next Monday. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

George had been away for what felt like an eternity, though in reality, it had only been a couple of weeks. Had you gone to one of his and Max’s shows a few days ago? Yes. Did you still miss having him around? Absolutely.

You were maybe a little too excited for today. Despite having to work all day and missing the final Useless Hotline show in London, you were thrilled at the thought of having George back home tonight.

You were wrapped up in a soft blanket on your couch, a Netflix reality show playing on the TV as you tried to pass the time before George got home. The warmth of the blanket and the gentle glow of the TV lulled you into a relaxed state. The exhaustion from the day began to take its toll and despite your best efforts to stay awake, you found yourself drifting off to sleep.

George had just returned from the after-party, and he couldn’t wait to see you, to sleep next to you in your own bed. Quietly, he stepped into your apartment, expecting to have you run into his arms, only to be met with a sight that made his heart melt. He placed his bags gently next to the door before walking towards you.

He found you, his partner, asleep on the couch. The low sound of the TV played softly in the background. You were cuddled up in a blanket, your features delicate and serene. He thought you looked incredibly beautiful, even more so in the soft, warm glow of the TV. Your hair framed your face perfectly, giving you an angelic appearance. You looked so peaceful in your slumber, so utterly beautiful, that he couldn’t help but smile.

George crouched down next to you, taking a moment to simply watch you. He brushed a loose strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle and loving. Leaning in, he placed a soft kiss on your forehead, the light touch causing you to stir awake.

You blinked your eyes open, a bit groggy from sleep, and were met with the sight of George’s loving gaze. Your heart leapt with joy, and a sleepy smile spread across your face. "George," you whispered, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you sat up, feeling an overwhelming rush of happiness.

“Hey, love,” George whispered back, his voice filled with emotion. He couldn’t resist pulling you into a tight embrace, holding you tight. "I missed you so much."

You hugged him tightly, burying your face in his neck. "Missed me? I just saw you in Bristol like three days ago," you murmured, your laugh muffled but filled with love. "But I’m happy to have you back with me." You inhaled his scent, feeling a sense of comfort wash over you.

George pulled back slightly, smiling with a crinkle in his eyes, looking oh so handsome. “Well, I’m all yours now,” he said, his eyes sparkling with love. “You have all my attention.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips. “Good, because I’ve missed you too,” you said as you caressed his cheek.

George leaned in and kissed you softly, his lips lingering on yours. As he pulled away, he sat down on the couch next to you, and you two began talking, catching up on everything you had missed. You laughed as George recounted all the amusing and memorable moments from the tour, listening intently while cuddled up next to him, tucked under his arm, reveling in the warmth of his presence.

George sighed contentedly, "Nothing beats being back here with you."

"Aww, don't lie," you teased. "It must have been fun having all the ladies fawn over you at your shows."

George grinned, "I'm smart enough not to answer that... and even smarter to say I love you."

You laughed, "I love you too." He leaned in and placed a slow, tender kiss on your lips, and you leaned into it, missing the feeling of his lips on yours.

His gentle hands caressed your waist as you shuffled closer on his lap, straddling him. Your lips met in a kiss, starting off slow and tender. George lightly pecked you on the lips, murmuring how much he had missed it being just the two of you. You pressed yourself closer to him, earning a groan from the sudden movement.

He began to kiss down your neck, finding the spot he knew made your knees weak. You felt him smirk against your skin as you let out a soft gasps, his lips leaving sweet little nibbles. The sensation made you moan softly in his ear, which was enough to get him going.

His lips attached back on yours and the kiss grew heated, the passion between you intensifying. George suddenly felt like there was too much space between you, and he tugged you closer to him, his hands roaming under your shirt, the contact making you gasp into his mouth, the heat between you growing as you both became consumed with each other, lost in the burning touch.

Your hands roamed his body, feeling the muscles beneath his shirt, your fingers tracing the lines of his back. Both of you poured all your emotions into that kiss, scared to pull away from each other. Your hands found their way into his hair, tugging slightly, causing him to groan deeply.

George was the first to pull away. “I think we should move this to the bedroom,” he whispered, his voice husky with desire, his eyes dark with lust.

You nodded, breathless, and the two of you stood up, never breaking contact as you made your way to the bedroom. Neither of you wanted to be apart for any second longer.

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A/N: Thanks for reading guys! I'm trying to get through all my pending requests now that I'm back. Check out my other fics and oneshots here. Not working on any new requests currently but feel free to drop into my asks for a chat! 😊

[wroetominter]

Wrestling - George Clarke

Fluff! I do have a potential part 2 if anyone is interested! (While writing I took a smutty turn, but wanted to keep the original fluff) let me know if you’d like it!

Pairing: George X Fem! Reader

Warnings: fluff galore.

Best friends who don’t know they love each other - one of the best tropes imo.

———

I laid sprawled out on George's bed, waiting patiently for him to finish editing the video he swore would be done hours ago. I mindlessly scrolled through social media, rotting the time away with mindless TikToks.

George and I had been friends for quite a few years now. It began when I was working as a set director with Arthur during one of his first tours. Him and I started to get on really well, and naturally that meant I would find myself invited to many of his events, to his flat, and more and more tours as the production manager now.

George had caught my attention fairly quickly. Him and I had such a similar sense of humor that our conversations flowed so naturally, almost as if we had been friends forever.

As I continued my scrolling, a particularly eye catching video edit of George began playing, the song playing making it seem a bit more steamy. To my surprise, a few clips of him and I in various vlogs began playing throughout them. Clips of George linking arms with me as we walked during a pub golf, one of him giving me a piggy back ride, and many of glances across tables at different bars. The caption read "if only they would realize how in love they are with each other". I screwed my eyebrows together slightly, rewatching the video a few times.

I guess the repeated audio had caught George's attention, as he took his headphones off and turned to me in his chair. "Whatcha watchin'?" He asked, startling me slightly. I instinctively locked my phone, setting it at my side on the bed.

"Just some TikTok's. Random stuff" I said - George, clearly not convinced stood up and came to grab my phone from me.

I grabbed it and put it under my back, trying my hardest to keep it away from him.

"You know how easily I'll be able to get that right?" He stood at the edge of his bed, smirking as he said this.

He then took my by surprise, jumping onto the bed - and me, wrestling to get the phone from me.

I scrambled, fumbling around to try and keep it away, holding it high and low as he desperately tried to snatch it. He grabbed my sides, effortlessly pulling me over him and onto the other side of the bed, pinning me down with one arm and grabbing my phone with the other. I tried to move but I was stuck under him, his body weight holding me in place as he laid over me.

He unlocked my phone, our passwords having been shared long before this instance. The video began playing, the all too familiar audio now sounding again through the room.

He had a small smile on his face as the video played through. He watched it a few times as well, finally stopping it and setting my phone back down. He released his grip slightly, moving so he was now laying beside me, our legs still tangled and his arm lazily moving to hold me closer by the shoulders.

Still out of breath I shifted my body to face him, both of us laying on our sides towards each other. George's cheeks were a shade of pink, and I assumed mine were similar.

It was a slightly uncomfortable silence. Neither of us really having the right words to say after that. Being the awkward person I am, I couldn't take the silence for very long.

I sighed, a nervous laugh escaping my lips. "If this were a cheesy rom-com, you probably would have kissed me after that wrestling match." He laughed as well, the tension breaking ever so slightly. I felt my body relax into him, the situation feeling now more comfortable than it had just a few moments ago.

"I still could, rom-com or not." He said. My eyes snapped to meet his, scanning for any sign of humor. There was none.

"Are you serious?" I asked, voice soft as his arm reached up to scratch the back of his neck, a movement I recognized as something he does when he's anxious.

"Yeah, if you are?" He said matching my tone.

I smiled, thinking back to the caption of the video I had just watched. It's not often that the fans are right in their speculations, but a broken clock is still right once a day.

I leaned forward, cupping his stubbled jaw with my hand, he matched my movement and his hand found my waist as we met in the middle, lips hesitantly touching for a few moments. The kiss was short and sweet, both of us smiling through the entire moment.

As I pulled away, the pink color of his cheeks had deepened.

"Why did it take us so long to do that?" I asked, scooting closer to him so I was pressed against him.

“Honestly, I wish I knew. I would have made sure it didn’t take as long” he replied. I smiled, leaning back in to kiss him again.

[swanfairy77]

meow.

[bylerendgameyep]

my Sidemen Inside Season 2 tierlist 🙂

[fatneek444]

19 seconds into a stephen tries less video and george’s old tiktoks have already made an appearance 😭

[sweetfcwn]

george who literally worships his gf both physically and emotionally, hes such a lover i know it

like you’re art - george clarke.

this is might be my favourite thing i've written. thank you so much for the request nonnie, you're so right. i hope you enjoy <33

george never looks at you like you’re just a person.

he looks at you like you’re art in a gallery. something to be studied, treasured, devoured with his eyes. every beauty mark. every stretch mark. every soft little breath you take when you’re half-asleep in the morning. he notices all of it. and he loves all of it.

he doesn’t even hide it anymore.

you’ll catch him staring at you from across the room, smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, like you’ve just done something incredible—when really, all you’ve done is exist.

"what?" you ask once, cheeks warm under his gaze.

"nothing," he says softly, shaking his head. "you're just… you're the most beautiful person i've ever seen."

he says it like it's fact. like it’s gravity.

and it's always like that. he touches you like you’re something delicate and precious, like the act of being near you is enough to bring him peace.

you’re lying in bed on a slow sunday morning, tangled in sheets and sunlight, and george is on his side, elbow propped up, watching you.

you’re not even fully awake. you stretch a little, blinking sleepily at the soft golden light pouring through the window, and you catch him smiling.

“you’re staring.”

“obviously,” he murmurs, fingers brushing your cheek. “you look like a painting.”

you groan, rolling onto your stomach. “you’re so dramatic.”

but you don’t really mind.

his hand trails lazily down your spine. “it’s not dramatic if it’s true.”

he’s always like this—touching you like you’re sacred, like every inch of your skin was carved by someone holy. even when it’s innocent. especially then. he kisses your knees. your knuckles. the dip of your collarbone. like he needs you to know how much he loves every part of you.

he's gentle with your heart, too.

the kind of boyfriend who remembers the things you said in passing and brings them up months later like they mattered (because to him, they do). the kind of boyfriend who lets you ramble about things you love and listens like it’s the most interesting story in the world.

“you always get this little smile when you talk about stuff you care about,” he tells you once, curled up beside you on the sofa, chin resting on your shoulder. “it’s my favourite thing.”

you glance over at him, suddenly shy. “you notice everything.”

he shrugs. “i want to notice everything.”

you don’t know what to say to that. so you kiss him instead.

and he loves hyping you up.

even when you feel like a mess—hair unbrushed, hoodie too big, sleep still in your eyes—he’ll say something like, “jesus christ, how are you even real?” and mean it.

he hypes you up when you try something new. when you talk about your work. when you pick an outfit. when you send him a selfie, even one you’re unsure about.

“fit of the year,” he’ll text back. “model behaviour.”

or sometimes just: “mine.”

you’ll never admit how much it means to you. how much it helps to be loved so loudly, so thoroughly, so unconditionally.

but he knows. of course he knows.

he has this way of holding your face when he kisses you—hands cradling your jaw, thumbs brushing your cheeks, like he’s memorizing the shape of you.

he doesn’t rush it, either. not ever.

he kisses you like it’s a language. like it’s the only way he knows how to say what he’s feeling. like if he could kiss you forever, he’d still never get tired of it.

one night, after a quiet dinner and a walk home under the streetlights, you’re both in your room, half-tangled on the bed. george is looking at you like you hung the moon.

you laugh softly. “why are you looking at me like that?”

he shrugs, eyes still on yours. “because i’m in love with you.”

your breath catches.

you’ve said it before. a few times. but never like this. never when it feels so heavy and light at the same time. never when it feels like he’s baring his soul.

“say it again,” you whisper.

“i’m in love with you,” he says, slower this time. deliberate. “so much it makes my chest hurt.”

you reach for him, pulling him down into a kiss that’s all teeth and aching softness. his hands slide up your sides, gentle and reverent, like he’s afraid he’ll break you if he moves too fast.

“you don’t have to be so careful,” you murmur against his mouth.

he pulls back just enough to look at you. “i want to be careful. you’re everything.”

and then his hands are everywhere—your jaw, your neck, your waist, your hips. his touch is warm, grounding, full of worship.

he doesn’t just want to be with you. he wants to cherish you.

and you let him.

you let him because with george, it doesn’t feel performative. it doesn’t feel like he’s trying to prove something.

it just feels real.

after, you’re curled into his chest, fingers trailing lazy circles on his bare skin, and he’s still looking at you with that same awestruck expression.

“you okay?” you whisper.

he nods, brushing your hair back. “just thinking about how lucky i am.”

you snort. “you always say that.”

“because it’s always true.”

you go quiet, heart soft and heavy.

he shifts so he can kiss your forehead. then your cheek. then your lips.

“you’re everything i’ve ever wanted,” he says quietly. “you know that, right?”

you nod. “you’re everything to me, too.”

george smiles like he’s never been happier in his life.

-

you learn, over time, that this is who he is.

he’s the kind of man who will carry your bag when you’re tired, rub your back when you’re anxious, bring you flowers because “they reminded me of you.”

he compliments you when you least expect it—when you're brushing your teeth, when you're putting on socks, when you're ranting about a tv show.

he always reaches for your hand. always pulls you in closer. always kisses the top of your head, like it’s instinct.

he doesn’t wait for special moments to love you. he turns every moment into one.

sometimes, in quiet moments, he’ll whisper things when you’re not quite awake.

“you’re my favourite person.”

“i don’t know what i did to deserve you.”

“i’ll love you forever.”

you never know if he thinks you can hear him. you don’t think he cares. he says it because it’s true, not because he wants something back.

and every time you do hear it, it makes you love him more.

george doesn’t love halfway. he never has.

he loves in full. in color. in warmth and worship and touch. in the way he holds you like you’re the best thing that ever happened to him.

and the most incredible part?

you believe him.

because when george loves you, it doesn’t feel like a spotlight.

it feels like home.

taglist: @phantomveb @just-yazz @wherethezoes-at @tomhollandismyhusband1996 @cheekytv @clarkeysbedchem @artvscvntymullet

[authortelevision]

jealous george ₊˚⊹♡

words: 3,304 ✦ .ᐟ

♯┆flatmate george clarke, fluff, friends to lovers

you have been friends with george for a while and since moving in to his shared flat you’ve learnt that chris loves to tease and flirt with you, after playing truth or dare you’ve also learnt that george might have a truth he isn’t ready to tell you yet

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

thanks @wroetolex for the idea !!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

You’d been friends with George Clarke for as long as you could remember. From climbing trees in your back gardens as kids to navigating the worst of university together, George had always been a constant in your life. There was something lovely about him—reliable, funny, the kind of person you could count on no matter what.

It was an easy friendship, the kind where you could pick up conversations exactly where you’d left off, even after months apart. But now, living together in a flat with two other housemates, things felt… different.

It wasn’t that George had changed exactly. He was still the same dry, sarcastic George who could make you laugh with just a stupid impression or an under-the-breath comment. But there were moments now where you’d catch him looking at you a second too long or leaning just a little closer than necessary.

And then there was the way he touched you.

It had always been natural for George to be touchy, he was just that kind of person. But lately, the touches felt… different. Softer, more deliberate. Like the way he’d rest his hands on your waist when squeezing past you in the kitchen, or brush stray bits of hair from your face without a second thought. Sometimes, when you were sitting next to each other on the sofa, he’d place his hand on your thigh lightly stroking it without a second thought. The gesture that didn’t seem to have any reason other than the fact that he could.

It wasn’t just you noticing, either.

Arthur had teased you about it more than once, laughing about how George would always stand just a little too close when you were talking, or how his hand would linger on your shoulder whenever he walked behind you. “Honestly, how have you been friends that long and you haven’t at least kissed yet,” he joked one night, all you could do is roll your eyes.

“He’s just like that,” you’d insisted, brushing it off. But even as you said it, you weren’t sure you believed it.

You weren’t sure when it had started, this strange awareness of him. Maybe it was the way he always seemed to notice when you were upset, even before you said anything. Or the way his laugh could light up an entire room, making you forget whatever was bothering you. Or maybe it was just the fact that George was, well, George, uncomplicated in the best way, someone who just got you.

But nothing had ever come of it, and you weren’t sure it ever would. After all, you were friends. Best friends. You’d never even thought about risking that, until now.

Because now, Chris was in the picture.

Chris had been a bit of an issue from the moment you’d moved in, with his constant routine and inappropriate jokes about you and George, the kind of guy who could talk his way out of anything. He loved pushing boundaries, especially George’s, and lately, it seemed like he’d taken a particular interest in you. It was harmless, of course, just Chris being Chris.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

But you couldn’t ignore the way George’s mood shifted whenever Chris’s teasing got a little too much, or how his comments became harsher, more defensive. And you definitely couldn’t ignore the way George’s touchiness seemed to intensify, his hand on your back lingering just a moment longer when Chris was in the room, as if to quietly stake a claim.

Something was definitely going on between you two. You could feel it every time George looked at you, every time he made one of those quiet brutal remarks when Chris got too bold. Whatever it was, it was building.

And you had no idea what would happen when it finally came to a head.

The flat was filled with the comfortable chaos of a lazy night in. The living room was a patchwork of cushions, discarded blankets, and half-eaten Thai food. Someone had dimmed the lights, the glow of the lamps giving everything a warm, intimate feel. Your flatmates were sprawled across the modern furniture, all caught up in the easy feeling of the moment.

It was Chris’s idea to play Truth or Dare—of course, it was Chris’s idea. He thrived on moments like this, always looking for ways to push people just far enough for his own amusement. You were sat on the sofa between George and Chris, your usual spot, though you couldn’t help but notice how George seemed just a little closer than usual tonight.

Chris was in fine form, as always. He’d already embarrassed Arthur into confessing his worst Hinge date story and dared George to drink an unholy combination of Birra Moretti and salsa. Now, he leaned back with the self-satisfied smirk of someone who thought he owned the room.

“Alright,” Chris said, his eyes glinting mischievously. “My turn and imma say truth.. and my truth is… that I used to have a little crush on you.” He directed the comment squarely at you, the grin on his face daring you to react.

You blinked, thrown off balance for a moment, before rolling your eyes. “Oh, come on. You’re such a lying asshole.”

“An attractive asshole, though,” Chris said back, leaning into the bit. “I mean, let’s be honest. Who wouldn’t? You’re funny, you’re gorgeous.. I guess… and honestly, you’re the only one in this flat who doesn’t steal my shit.”

“Wow, high standards,” you responded, trying not to laugh.

Chris grinned, unbothered by your deflection. “Hey, I’m just saying. If you’re ever sick of these boys, my door’s always open, we can talk over some food.”

The room burst into laughter, everyone enjoying the ridiculousness of it all. But beside you, George had gone very still.

“Yeah,” George said, his tone light but with an edge that made you glance at him. “Good luck with that. Maybe next time you should ask her opinion on your shitty cooking before you start planning your future.”

Chris tilted his head, pretending to consider this. “Ah, okay so she has preferences. A crucial first step. Of course.”

“Especially since she doesn’t even like your tasteless lamb,” George added, his voice sharp in a way that felt out of place.

Chris shrugged, unfazed. “Well, we all have our faults,” he said, winking at you. “I’m sure I could convert you eventually.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Not a chance.”

The conversation moved on, but the energy in the room felt different after that. George didn’t join in the way he usually did. Instead, he stayed quiet, his arms crossed, offering the occasional dry comment whenever Chris’s flirting got too much.

As the game continued, Chris leaned further into the joke, making playful comments about him liking you.

“Honestly,” he said later, “if we weren’t living together, I’d have asked you out ages ago. But, you know, flatmate stuff and all.”

“Wow, you really know how to talk to a woman,” you joked, shaking your head.

George leaned forward, speaking before Chris could. “Yeah, because nothing says ‘romance’ like passive-aggressively leaving your dishes in the sink.”

Chris laughed. “Hey, those are part of my charm. Don’t act like you wouldn’t miss me if I moved out.”

George didn’t miss a beat. “I think we’d survive. At least she wouldn’t have to put up with you filming your voice overs at 2 a.m.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, he’s got a point there.”

Chris held a hand to his heart, pretending to be offended. “You hurt me, both of you. But don’t worry, George. I’ll give her front-row tickets at all my games, and I’ll sing Arthur’s songs at our wedding.”

That did it. George sat back abruptly, his expression hardening. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly how she’s always pictured her big day.”

The sudden bitterness in his tone surprised you, and for a moment, the room fell quiet.

Later in the game, the group was getting tired, but Chris wasn’t done yet. He leaned back, arms stretched behind his head, and grinned. “You know, George, you seem to know everything about her. Should I be worried you’re my competition?”

George’s jaw tightened, and he leaned forward, his voice dangerously calm. “I’m just saying maybe you shouldn’t pretend to have a crush when you don’t even know the basics.”

Chris raised an eyebrow, still smirking. “Who says I’m pretending?”

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “Wait, what?”

Chris winked at you, his tone still awfully calm. “Relax, I’m kidding. Mostly. Unless you’re interested, in which case…”

George stood abruptly, cutting him off. “Alright, I think we’ve had enough for tonight.”

He left the room without another word, leaving you and the rest of the flatmates staring after him in stunned silence. Chris glanced at you, his smirk softening. “What’s wrong with him, I was only joking?”

You shrugged, trying to shake off the weird tension. “I’ll go check on him.”

You found George in the kitchen. He was scrubbing the counter with a level of focus that suggested he was trying to erase more than just crumbs. The faint hum of the fridge filling the space as you leaned against the kitchen counter. George stood a few steps away, arms still scrubbing. His hair, a soft chestnut brown that always seemed to fall perfectly without any effort, was slightly mussed, and his jaw clenched as he stared at the counter.

“Hey,” you said, propping yourself up on your elbows.

George didn’t look at you. His beautiful blue eyes, usually so clear and steady, flicked toward the counter instead. “Hey,” he responded.

George said, his voice sharper than he intended. He finally looked up, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, the weight of it was enough to steal the breath from your lungs.

The kitchen light caught his eyes, making them impossibly blue, like the sky just after a rainstorm. You could see the frustration etched into his face, the slight furrow of his brow, the way his lips pressed together like he was holding something back.

You leaned against the counter, watching him. “You okay?”

“Fine,” he said shortly, his tone jarring.

“Right.” You crossed your arms, not believing him for a second. “So the whole moody silence thing is just for fun, then?”

That earned you a faint, fake laugh. He set the sponge down with a sigh, finally turning to face you. “It’s nothing. I’m just tired.”

“Uh-huh.” You tilted your head, studying him. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Chris, does it?”

George rolled his eyes, running a hand through his hair. “Chris’s an idiot.”

“Okay,” you said slowly. “But why does that bother you so much? He was just joking around.”

George’s jaw tightened. “Because he doesn’t know you.”

The intensity of his words surprised you. “What do you mean?”

“He doesn’t know anything about you,” George said, his voice rising slightly. “I’ve known you for ages. He doesn’t know shit, like that you hate lamb no matter if it’s his or not or that you can’t stand his awkward karaoke singing or that you hum when you’re nervous. He doesn’t know you reread the same book every year because it makes you feel safe, or that you always eat the edges of your toast first because you like saving the best part for last. He just… throws out stupid lines like it’s all a joke.”

You stared at him, stunned by the outburst. “George…”

He looked away, shaking his head. “Forget it. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m getting so worked up. It’s not my business.”

You stepped closer, your heart thudding louder in your chest with every inch you closed between you. “George,” you said again, “do you want a hug?”

The question caught him off guard, and for a second, he blinked at you like you’d spoken in another language. “What?”

“A hug,” you repeated, smiling gently. “You look like you could use one.”

He hesitated, his arms unfolding awkwardly, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “Uh… sure?”

You didn’t wait for him to decide fully. Instead, you closed the distance and wrapped your arms around him, your head resting against his shoulder. His body tensed at first, like he was unused to the softness of the moment, but then he relaxed, his arms coming around you hesitantly at first and then more firmly.

He smelled like the faintest trace of aftershave and the laundry detergent you both used. His body was warm, and for a second, you let yourself sink into the comfort of it.

When you pulled back, you caught the faint pink tint creeping up his cheeks. He was looking anywhere but at you now, rubbing the back of his neck like he didn’t know what to do with himself. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Are you blushing?” you teased, grinning.

“No,” he said quickly, his voice a little too high.

You laughed, crossing your arms. “It’s okay, George. It’s just me.”

He let out a huff of air, finally looking at you. “You don’t get it,” he muttered.

“Don’t get what?”

He hesitated, then shook his head. “Chris’s an idiot. That’s all.”

You sighed, stepping closer again. “You’re being stupid, you know that? It’s not like I’m interested in Chris or anything.”

He blinked, his expression shifting. “You’re not?”

“No,” you said giggling. “Fucking hell George, just stop talking.”

And then, before you could overthink it, you leaned in and kissed him.

It wasn’t the kind of kiss you’d imagined when you’d let your mind wander late at night. It was softer, lighter. His lips were warm and slightly chapped, and for a moment, he didn’t move.

But then his hands came up to cup your face, pulling you closer. The kiss continued, your heart pounding so hard you were sure he could feel it. His fingers were slightly wet from his scrubbing, his touch almost like a ghost, and when he pulled back just enough to look at you, you saw something in his eyes that made your knees weak.

He stared at you, wide-eyed. “Oh,” he said quietly.

You laughed, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Um… okay,” he stammered, his face reddening again.

You smiled, leaning your forehead against his. “You’re actually quite cute when you’re nervous, you know that?”

“Stop,” he murmured, finally smiling. “But I thought you liked Chris.”

You leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, “Of course I don’t, you’re the only idiot i’d like”

George let out a breath he didn’t seem to realize he’d been holding. “Good,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Because I’m pretty sure I’d lose my mind if I had to watch him keep trying.”

You laughed softly, the tension between you dissolving into something warmer, sweeter. “You must know he was only joking?”

He smirked, finally regaining some of his usual confidence. “Yeah I definitely knew that.”

For a moment, the world outside the two of you didn’t exist—the messy kitchen, the flatmates in the living room, even Chris with his incessant teasing. All of it faded away as George leaned in again, his lips kissing yours with a little more certainty this time.

When you finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “So, what happens now?” he asked.

You smiled, threading your fingers through his. “Well, for starters, you’re going to stop being moody every time Chris makes a joke.”

George chuckled, his fingers squeezing yours lightly. “No promises.”

“And,” you added, tilting your head to meet his gaze, “we’ll figure the rest out as we go. Okay?”

His smile widened, his blue eyes softening. “Okay.”

Just as you were about to kiss him again, the sound of Chris’s voice carried from the living room. “Hey! What’s going on in there?”

George groaned, resting his head on your shoulder dramatically. “He’s actually insufferable”

You laughed, nudging him gently. “Come on. Let’s get back out there before he starts another round of Truth or Dare.”

George sighed but didn’t let go of your hand. “Fine. But if he says one more word about a wedding, I’m throwing him out.”

You grinned, pulling him toward the door. “You’re so dramatic, Oh my God.”

As you stepped back into the living room, George’s let go of your hand, Chris immediately spotted the change between you both. He raised an eyebrow. “Look who decided to rejoin us.”

Arthur glanced between the two of you, his eyes narrowing. “Wait a second. Are you two—”

“Shut up,” George interrupted, though his tone lacked any real heat.

You squeezed his hand, laughing softly. “Don’t worry, Arthur. You’ll get the full story later.”

Chris leaned back, clearly delighted. “About time,” he said with a grin. “Guess I’ll have to back off now, huh?”

“Guess you will,” George shot back, his tone dry but the faintest hint of a smile on his face.

As the laughter died down, you caught Chris’s eye and couldn’t help but smirk. “For the record,” you said, your voice carrying a teasing edge, “I always knew you were joking, Chris.”

Chris put a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Joking? I would never joke about something so serious.”

George muttered something under his breath, and you grabbed his hand giving him a reassuring squeeze. “It’s fine,” you whispered, just for him. Then you turned back to Chris, “Well, thanks for your confession, I think.”

Chris laughed, leaning back with exaggerated smugness. “What can I say? I have a gift.”

“Your gift is being obnoxious,” George replied, though his tone had softened now, the sharpness replaced with a reluctant smile.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Alright, enough about that. Who’s next in Truth or Dare? Arthur?”

The next morning, Chris caught you both in the kitchen, you sat on the counter, leaning in to talk to George. He raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Well, well. Looks like my work here is done.”

George groaned. “Don’t start.”

But you just laughed, jumping off the counter to slip your arms around George’s waist, resting your head on his back.

[thedyingliiight]

𝙄𝙁 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙒𝙀𝙍𝙀 𝘿𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙂𝙀𝙊𝙍𝙂𝙀 𝘾𝙇𝘼𝙍𝙆𝙀𝙔...

slight NSFW, arguments and fluff mentions!

for the mullet daddy aka my husband 😉😉 — REQUESTS ARE OPEN

IN THE RELATIONSHIP…

- this man YEARNS for you.

‘oh y/n i love you.’

‘i love you too, baby.’

- fans definitely make compilation of the way he looks at you, he admires you and everything you do.

- george is ridiculously giggly on camera, but it's you who is all giggly behind the scenes.

- his clothes are yours, no questions asked.

- he's very teasing, which either drives you insane or makes you love him more.

- like chris, he will use any cringey pick up line on you he can.

- when he kisses you, his beard never fails to tickle you, which he uses to his advantage to annoy you.

‘why are you pulling away?’

‘because your beard is tickling my neck.’

‘you’re evil.’

- naturally, when you’re sat together, your legs are rested atop his, it’s just a muscle memory at this point.

- drunk george is the clingiest man ever.

- just to wind him up, you always bite his biceps, they’re your favourite thing about him.

‘ow! what was that for?’

‘i’m sorry but they looked fucking yummy and big.’

‘damn that’s what she said.’

- you’re relationship is very amy santiago and jake peralta coded.

- this man will smush your face in his hands just to give you a kiss, in front of anyone and everyone.

- PDA isn’t a big deal to you but you do links arms or hold hands in front of others.

- this man is a walking pillow, when you’re in bed, your head is always on his chest as he runs his hands through your hair.

- neither of you are into the ‘big spoon, little spoon’ kind of cuddling so you usually settle on heads on chests or facing each other.

- you always pull the back of his hair for the fun of it.

- he always makes you a tea or coffee when you get home after being out all day.

‘i made you a tea, beautiful.’

‘why thank you, kind sir.’

- you are DEFINITELY the funny couple.

- he’s the boyfriend you tell all the gossip to, if he’s around when your friends are over, you tell him everything!!!

‘oh so she’s a bitch then?’

‘yes, we do NOT like her at all.’

- george isn’t the jealous type but when he is he doesn’t make it too obvious, just making snarky remarks towards the guy when he speaks.

- you always steal his jackets, and claim it goes with your outfits as your excuse.

- if he makes a cheeky comment about you he’ll always turn and stick his tongue out at you.

IN ARGUMENTS…

- he’s argumentative.

- if he wants to get a point across he will not move on until it is proven.

‘but i didn’t say that! i said-’

‘george! that conversation happened twenty minutes ago.’

‘yeah but i never proved my point!’

- quite patient but when he’s frustrated his patience is non existent.

- any little thing annoys him when he’s pissed off.

‘don’t roll your fucking eyes at me.’

‘i didn’t! i had something in them.’

- he laughs when he thinks your being ridiculous.

- you guys argue every few months, but it’s never a huge one.

- you only really argue when your stressed, most of the time it’ll be little disagreements that you’ll settle after an hour.

- he treats you more like a goddess after an argument.

NSFW!!…

- he’s an eye roller, i can tell.

- bites your lip HARD when he kisses you.

‘george you made me bleed.’

‘shit sorry, babe.’

- he groans A LOT.

- talks you through it.

- his hands are always on your ass, which he feels the urge to smack a lot.

- he’s a missionary kind of guy, just so he can kiss you.

- he’s a gentle kind of dominant but when he hasn’t seen you in a while he’s rough.

- seems like a love maker.

- after you have sex, he runs you a bath and will bathe with you, then make you a tea (again).

[themdera]

Take me back to San Francisco | George Clarke | Fluff | 3,473 words.

“even when you’re 5,354 miles away you’re all i think about”

“Hey, I miss you,” George’s voice came through the phone, soft and tired but brimming with emotion.

You rubbed your temples, exhaustion tugging at your own limbs. “Isn’t it like 1 a.m. for you?” you asked, glancing at the time difference between where you were working in san francisco and home in london.

“It is,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. You could see him on FaceTime, his hair disheveled, his eyes red and heavy from lack of sleep. “But I can’t sleep without you. I’ve been staring at the ceiling for hours, and it just—it’s too quiet here without you.”

Your chest tightened at his admission, the distance between you suddenly feeling unbearable. You hated being apart like this. Work had pulled you away to another city for a month, and George, usually so strong and collected, was struggling more than ever.

“I’m about to do the 5pm daily Zoom call with work,” you offered gently, not wanting to dismiss his feelings. “Wanna listen to me do that? Keep me company for a bit?”

“Please,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. His vulnerability broke your heart.

You set up your laptop, glancing back at George on your phone. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, running a hand down his face. “I’ve been thinking…” he started, his tone unsure.

“Yeah?” you prompted, worried about the look in his eyes.

“I want to get a flight to see you,” he blurted out, his voice raw. “I know you’re there for work, and I don’t want to mess that up, but… I hate this. I hate not having you here. It’s like the second you left, I forgot how to breathe properly. It feels like i’m missing half of me”

“George…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“I know it’s ridiculous,” he continued, his hand tugging at his hair. “But every night without you feels like it drags on forever. I just—” He let out a shaky breath. “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

You wanted to tell him yes, to tell him to get on that plane and come to you, but you knew it wasn’t practical. Work was consuming all of your time, and as much as you missed him, you couldn’t afford any distractions.

“I know it’s hard,” you said gently, your heart breaking with every word. “But we’ll get through this, okay? It’s just a few more weeks.”

He nodded, his eyes closing as if he were trying to keep himself together. “I just… I don’t know how you do it. Being away like this.”

“Because I know I’m coming back to you,” you told him softly, tears threatening to spill.

George smiled faintly, but the sadness in his eyes remained. “Alright,” he said after a moment, his voice steadier now. “Can I just… stay on while you do your call? Even if I can’t sleep, at least I’ll feel like I’m with you.”

“Of course,” you said, your voice catching. “Stay as long as you want.”

You started your Zoom meeting, George’s face still on your phone screen beside you. As you spoke to your coworkers, you’d glance at him occasionally, catching the way his eyes softened every time he looked at you.

By the time the meeting ended, you noticed George had finally fallen asleep. His head rested against the pillow, his breathing deep and even. You stared at him for a moment, feeling the ache of missing him settle deep in your chest.

“I love you,” you whispered, knowing he couldn’t hear you but hoping, somehow, it reached him. You finished the work you needed to do and sat at your desk, fuck, you missed him. The way he held you close, the way he laughed, his eyes, his face. Every single thing you missed, you got changed out of your work clothes and into something more comfortable, sliding on george’s jumper. you climb into bed checking the time seeing it’s only 7pm you don’t care if this is closest you get to sleeping next to george so be it, you plug your phone in and place it on your pillow with the sound of george’s soft snoring and heavy breathing next to you, feeling lost without him there, you’ll just have to cope with the facetime sleeping for now.

The soft sound of plates clinking and muffled voices pulled you from your sleep. Blinking against the morning light, you turned your head to see your phone still propped up on the pillow , FaceTime still active at 3am for you. George was on the other end, his figure moving around his kitchen as he tidied up.

You didn’t say anything at first, just watched him. His hair was still a mess, his shirt slightly wrinkled, but there was something so endearing about seeing him like this. He looked so domestic, so familiar, and you ached for him in a way you hadn’t realised was possible.

In the background, you could hear Chris’s voice. “Mate, are you alright? You’ve been pacing around for like 20 minutes.”

“I’m fine,” George replied, his voice steady but soft. He set a plate down with a quiet clink, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… I miss her, you know?”

Chris chuckled lightly. “You’ve said that about a hundred times since she left. Why don’t you just go to her?”

“She’s busy,” George said quickly, his tone defensive. “She’s got work, and I don’t want to be a distraction. She’s doing important stuff.”

Arthur chimed in now, his tone teasing but kind. “Yeah, but mate, you’re miserable. You’ve barely slept, and you’ve spent the past hour cleaning a kitchen that’s already spotless.”

George sighed, leaning against the counter. “I know, I just… I don’t want to make it harder for her. She’s got enough on her plate without me showing up and complicating things.”

Your heart clenched at his words, the weight of his love and consideration hitting you all at once. Finally, you cleared your throat, your voice still groggy from sleep. “George?”

He froze, his head snapping toward the screen. His eyes softened immediately, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Hey. Good morning.”

You sat up slowly, your heart racing. “hi, I heard you talking.”

George flushed slightly, running a hand through his hair. “Uh, yeah… sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” you assured him, your voice steady now. “But I need to say something.”

He tilted his head, concern flashing across his face. “What’s up?”

“Get a flight,” you said firmly, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess yourself. “if you can. I’ll make the time. I’ll talk to my boss if I have to, but I want you here. No—I need you here, George.”

His eyes widened, and for a moment, he just stared at you, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “You… you mean that?”

“Yes,” you said, your voice breaking slightly. “I mean it. I’ve been trying to push through and act like I’m fine, but I’m not. I miss you, and I hate being apart from you. So please, just get here.”

George’s face lit up, a mix of relief and joy washing over him. “Okay,” he said, nodding quickly. “I’ll book the flight right now. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes.

He smiled at you, his own eyes glassy. “No, thank you. I’ll see you soon, love.”

You hang up the call, your heart racing with the anticipation of finally seeing George again. Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, George is already a whirlwind of energy.

Chris leans against the counter, watching George frantically move around the flat. “Mate, slow down,” Chris says, raising an eyebrow as George tosses clothes haphazardly into a suitcase. “You’re gonna forget something.”

“I don’t care,” George replies, his voice slightly breathless. “I’ll buy whatever I need when I get there. I just need to get to her.”

Chris shakes his head, amused but also concerned. “At least eat something before you pass out. You haven’t slept, haven’t eaten… you’re no good to her if you show up and collapse.”

George pauses for a moment, realising Chris is right. He grabs a bowl of cereal from the counter and shoves a spoonful into his mouth, still pacing the room as he chews. “Happy?” he mumbles around a mouthful of food.

“Not until you calm down,” Chris retorts, already pulling up flight options on his phone.

A few minutes later, Chris finds a flight to San Francisco leaving in just under four hours. “Found one,” Chris announces. “Heathrow. Direct flight. Leaves at 2:15. You’ll be with her by tonight.”

George stops in his tracks, turning to Chris with wide eyes. “You’re a lifesaver. Book it.”

Chris grins. “Already did. You owe me, though.”

George sets down the cereal bowl and pulls Chris into a tight hug. “I owe you everything. Thanks, man. I’ll pay you back when I’m in the Uber.”

Chris laughs, patting George on the back. “Just go get your girl mate.”

George grabs his suitcase, shoving the last few essentials in before heading out the door. Once he’s in the Uber, his phone buzzes in his hand. Without hesitation, he calls you.

“Hey,” he says, his voice soft but full of excitement.

“Hey,” you reply, your heart already racing again. “Did you get a flight?”

“Yeah, baby i’m coming for you,” he confirms with a smile . “I’ll be at Heathrow in about an hour. Flight leaves at 2:15 my time. I’ll be with you by 5:30pm your time.”

You let out a shaky breath, the reality of it sinking in. “I can’t believe it. You’re actually coming.”

“Of course I’m coming beautiful,” George says firmly. “You said you needed me, and that’s all I needed to hear.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you smile through them. “Thank you, George. I can’t wait to see you.”

“Me neither,” he replies. “Get some rest, yeah? I’ll be there before you know it.”

“I will,” you promise, your voice barely above a whisper.

As the call ends, you realised how long the hours will feel until he’s in your arms. But for the first time in weeks, you feel a sense of peace, knowing George is on his way.

At 5 a.m., you finally fall back into bed, exhaustion and excitement battling within you. You remind yourself that when you wake up in a few hours hours, you’ll be a few hours closer to George.

When you wake up, sunlight is pouring into the hotel room. You reach for your phone instinctively, checking the time. 10 a.m. Closer to George. Your first message is to Chris, thanking him for helping George get everything together.

You: Chris, I can’t thank you enough. You’re the reason he’s on his way to me.

Chris: Getting George out of the flat was the best decision. He’s been a mess without you. He’ll be better the second he sees you. To be honest he was always gonna get on that plane at some point he just needed someone to tell him to go. Enjoy your man😂

His words bring a smile to your face, but you still have a few things to do before George arrives. You glance around the hotel room, noting the pile of papers on the desk and the half-empty coffee cup from last night, a pile of clothes, It’s time to get moving.

You dive into work, finishing up the last of your report for the week, then call your boss. “Hi, I just wanted to let you know that George is flying in today. If I finish everything this morning, could I take tomorrow off?”

Your boss’s voice is warm, understanding. “Don’t worry about tomorrow. Just do what you can today, and we’ll figure the rest out. Enjoy your time with him—you’ve been working hard, and it’s well-deserved.”

Relieved, you thank her and hang up. Chris sends over George’s flight details, and you stare at them for a moment, your heart skipping a beat. Less than three hours.

Deciding to make the time pass quicker you take your laundry down to the on site laundry team, you head back into your room and then you hop in the shower, letting the hot water wash over you as you think about the moment you’ll finally see him. When you get out, you throw on a simple but nice outfit, wanting to look your best without overthinking it. You order room service and find a show to watch.

You tidy up the hotel room, making sure everything is in order. The space feels brighter, more alive now that you know George will be stepping into it soon. You glance at the clock. An hour and forty-five minutes until his flight lands.

Your excitement is nearly unbearable, but you try to calm yourself by pacing around the room and double-checking that everything is set for his arrival. You grab your phone, refreshing the flight tracker every few minutes, counting down the moments until George finally lands in San Francisco.

You pace around the hotel room, trying to distract yourself. Netflix plays in the background, but you can’t focus on anything. You keep glancing at your phone, counting down the minutes until George’s flight lands. The waiting is excruciating.

When room service finally arrives, you’re grateful for the distraction. You sit on the edge of the bed, eating the sandwich you’d ordered. It’s not the best meal you’ve ever had, but it’ll do. You silently thank the company for footing the bill, though you’re barely paying attention to the food. Your mind keeps drifting to George—on the plane, somewhere above the clouds, making his way to you.

Less than an hour to go. You can’t sit still any longer. You grab your coat, your phone, and your bag and step out of the hotel room. As you wait for the elevator, you book an Uber to take you to the airport.

The ride feels longer than it actually is, your heart pounding with every passing minute. You keep refreshing the flight tracker, watching as the plane edges closer to landing. When you finally arrive at the airport, you pay the driver and head inside, navigating your way to the arrivals area.

The space is bustling with people—families waiting with balloons, couples reuniting, and business travelers moving quickly through the crowd. You stand near the barrier, your eyes glued to the screen that lists the incoming flights.

LONDON HEATHROW - LANDED

Your breath catches. He’s here. You scan the crowd eagerly, searching for his familiar face. Every second feels like an eternity as people begin to trickle out of customs, but you stay rooted in place, knowing it won’t be long now.

You know it’s probably minutes away now—just minutes until you’re back in his arms. The thought makes your breath hitch, your heart pounding as you scan the crowd. Every passing second feels impossibly long, the steady stream of passengers coming through customs a blur.

And then, you see him.

George steps into view, his suitcase rolling beside him, his backpack slung over one shoulder. He looks tired—his hair slightly mussed from the long flight, his hoodie wrinkled—but when his eyes meet yours, everything about him seems to light up. The exhaustion melts away, replaced by a look of pure relief and joy.

He stops for just a second, his hand tightening around the suitcase handle as if steadying himself. Then, he starts walking toward you, picking up speed until he’s only a few steps away.

You can’t wait any longer. You close the gap, meeting him halfway as his suitcase comes to a halt beside him. His arms are around you before you can say a word, pulling you tightly against him.

“Hi,” he breathes, his voice low and a little unsteady, as though he’s been holding this moment in his mind for weeks.

“Hi,” you manage, your own voice breaking.

His grip tightens, one hand moving to the back of your head as if to make sure you’re really here. His suitcase stays forgotten at his side, and for a moment, the noise of the airport fades away, leaving just the two of you.

“I missed you so much,” he whispers into your hair.

“I missed you too,” you reply, blinking back tears.

George pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands gently framing your face. His thumbs brush your cheeks, and he smiles softly. “You’re even better than I remembered.”

You laugh through the lump in your throat, your heart swelling at his words. He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before wrapping his arms around you again.

“I’m never letting you go again,” he murmurs, his voice full of quiet determination.

You bury your face in his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. “You’d better not,” you reply, smiling as he lets out a quiet laugh.

You both finally get into the Uber, and the entire ride back to your hotel, George’s hand never leaves yours. The warmth of his skin against yours is a constant reassurance that he’s really here, really by your side, and not just a constant thought across miles and time zones.

When you reach the hotel, the door to your room opens, and George steps inside first, dropping his suitcase to the floor with a soft thud. Without missing a beat, he makes his way toward the bed, crawling under the covers with a tired sigh. You stand at the edge of the bed, watching him for a moment, the exhaustion of his long journey now evident on his face.

“Are you hungry?” you ask, pulling your jacket off, your eyes still on him.

He shakes his head slightly, settling further into the pillows. “I ate on the flight. Right now… I just want my gorgeous girlfriend in bed with me so I can sleep.”

You smile softly, your heart swelling at his words. You walk over, slipping into the bed beside him. As soon as you do, his arms immediately encircle you, pulling you close. His head rests in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmurs, his voice muffled by your hair. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”

You chuckle, your fingers lightly brushing through his messy hair. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not going anywhere now,” he says, his voice soft but firm. You feel the tension in his body start to ease as he relaxes into you, his hand resting gently on your back.

You both lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the silence filled with comfort and familiarity. Slowly, George’s breathing evens out, and his grip loosens as he finally drifts off to sleep, his face softening in the quiet of the room.

You smile, kissing the top of his head lightly, feeling your own eyelids begin to flutter closed. In his arms, with him so close, it’s hard to believe that just hours ago, you were thousands of miles apart.

You wake up slowly, the soft warmth of George’s body against yours making you feel like you’re in the most comforting place on earth. His head is still nestled against your chest, his breathing even and steady, a faint snore escaping every so often. You smile, unable to resist the urge to pull him a little closer, your hand running gently through the hair on the back of his head, feeling the soft strands under your fingers.

As you let your mind wander, you glance at the clock on the nightstand and are surprised to see it’s already 10 a.m. You’d both slept for nearly 12 hours. The last 24 hours had passed so quickly, but here he was, finally in your arms, exactly where he should be.

You can’t help but feel a rush of gratitude for everything that led to this moment. You reach for your phone on the bedside table, trying not to disturb him too much. As quietly as you can, you snap a quick picture of George still peacefully asleep in your arms, his face relaxed and content.

You send the photo off to Chris and Arthur with a simple message: “Thank you both again. Couldn’t have done this without you.”

You wait for a moment, watching George’s peaceful face, before your phone buzzes with Chris’s reply: “Anything for you guys. Glad he’s there with you.”

You smile and turn your attention back to George, your heart full as you play with his hair a little longer. The world outside may still be moving, but right now, all that matters is that he’s here.

[orchidniins]

hi, i love you fics so far! would you possibly be able to do fluffy morning cuddles with george? 🩷

Morning Cuddles | George Clarke

A/N: Thanks for the love! I just got all warm and fuzzy inside just thinking about this. Like I can just imagine George being such a soft boy and wanting to cuddle all day with his partner. This turned out a lot shorter than I was hoping, but I have a longer fic coming up next week so I wanted to get out something shorter for now. Hope you enjoy!!

Pairing: George Clarke x GN!Reader Warnings: Fluff Word Count: 700+

Masterlist

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The morning sun gently filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow into the room where George and you lay entangled in each other's arms. It’s still early, and you're wrapped in his comforting embrace, his strong arms wrapped around your frame, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing against your skin.

The sound of George's alarm interrupts the peaceful atmosphere, causing you both to stir from your slumber. With a sleepy groan, George reaches out to silence the alarm, his voice thick with sleep as he apologizes. "Sorry about that," he mumbles, his hand instinctively finding yours. "Go back to sleep, love." You feel his warmth as he begins to reluctantly pull himself from your embrace.

You yawn and sit up slightly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Slowly opening them, you're met with the sight of your boyfriend, his hair slightly tousled and sporting those soft curls you love that you think he doesn't show off enough. You offer him a sleepy smile as you assure him, "It's okay," before pulling him back towards you, snuggling even closer. "I'm awake now anyway."

With a soft chuckle, George wraps his arms around you, pulling you even closer against his chest. "Well, in that case, good morning, sleepyhead," he says, his voice laced with affection, as he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"Good morning," you reply, your voice soft and filled with warmth, your gaze lingering on his features, captivated by his sleepy blue eyes. "I could get used to waking up like this every day." you add as you continue to admire his handsome face.

George smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners with affection. "Me too," he murmurs, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "Me too."

With a soft smile, feeling the comforting softness of his t-shirt against your skin, inhaling the lingering scent of his body wash. You feel your body ease back against his and as the minutes tick by, you start to drift off to sleep again, lulled by the steady rhythm of George's breathing. However, right before you fall completely asleep, George gently shifts in the bed, a reminder that he needs to get ready for one of Chip's shoots.

You tighten your hold around him, a bit clingy, not quite ready to let him go. "Do you really have to leave?" you murmur, your voice tinged with sleepiness and reluctance.

George chuckles softly, his fingers tangling in your hair as he presses a kiss to your temple. "I'm sorry, love, but I do need to get ready," he says, his tone gentle but firm. He hesitates for a moment, his gaze lingering on your sleepy form before he adds, "But duty calls, and I can't keep the boys waiting."

You playfully pout at his words, and with a mischievous grin, you slowly move to straddle him, your hands finding their place on his chest. Leaning in close, you press a quick kiss to his neck before whispering in his ear, "Are you sure? I can make it worth your while to stay a little longer." Your playful tone is accompanied by a mischievous glint in your eyes as you try to tempt him to stay a bit longer.

George chuckles, his lips curling into a smirk as he pretends to consider your offer. "Tempting," he admits with a grin, his hands finding their way to your waist.

"But you know it won't just be a little longer, love" he murmurs with a playful glint in his eyes, his hands sliding up your waist as he leans in closer. He presses a soft kiss to your lips before gently maneuvering you off of him, his gaze lingering on your face with affection. "I promise, once I'm back, we'll spend the rest of the day together."

You sadly nod as George gets out of bed, a sense of longing filling the space between you as he heads into the bathroom. You watch him go, a soft smile playing on your lips as he bids you farewell with another tender kiss. His touch leaves a warmth on your skin, and as you hear the sound of running water from the bathroom, you already can't wait for him to return.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Check out my other fics and oneshots here. Not working on any new requests currently but feel free to drop into my asks for a chat! 😊

[wroetominter]

Wrestling (Extended Version) - George Clarke

This is the longer version of the previous post, but it’s the smutty version. If you’ve already read the original wrestling you can start at the ———

Pairing: George X Fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff then smut

I laid sprawled out on George's bed, waiting patiently for him to finish editing the video he swore would be done hours ago. I mindlessly scrolled through social media, rotting the time away with mindless TikToks.

George and I had been friends for quite a few years now. It began when I was working as a set director with Arthur during one of his first tours. Him and I started to get on really well, and naturally that meant I would find myself invited to many of his events, to his flat, and more and more tours as the production manager now.

George had caught my attention fairly quickly. Him and I had such a similar sense of humor that our conversations flowed so naturally, almost as if we had been friends forever.

As I continued my scrolling, a particularly eye catching video edit of George began playing, the song playing making it seem a bit more steamy. To my surprise, a few clips of him and I in various vlogs began playing throughout them. Clips of George linking arms with me as we walked during a pub golf, one of him giving me a piggy back ride, and many of glances across tables at different bars. The caption read "if only they would realize how in love they are with each other". I screwed my eyebrows together slightly, rewatching the video a few times.

I guess the repeated audio had caught George's attention, as he took his headphones off and turned to me in his chair. "Whatcha watchin'?" He asked, startling me slightly. I instinctively locked my phone, setting it at my side on the bed.

"Just some TikTok's. Random stuff" I said - George, clearly not convinced stood up and came to grab my phone from me.

I grabbed it and put it under my back, trying my hardest to keep it away from him.

"You know how easily I'll be able to get that right?" He stood at the edge of his bed, smirking as he said this.

He then took my by surprise, jumping onto the bed - and me, wrestling to get the phone from me.

I scrambled, fumbling around to try and keep it away, holding it high and low as he desperately tried to snatch it. He grabbed my sides, effortlessly pulling me over him and onto the other side of the bed, pinning me down with one arm and grabbing my phone with the other. I tried to move but I was stuck under him, his body weight holding me in place as he laid over me.

He unlocked my phone, our passwords having been shared long before this instance. The video began playing, the all too familiar audio now sounding again through the room.

He had a small smile on his face as the video played through. He watched it a few times as well, finally stopping it and setting my phone back down. He released his grip slightly, moving so he was now laying beside me, our legs still tangled and his arm lazily moving to hold me closer by the shoulders.

Still out of breath I shifted my body to face him, both of us laying on our sides towards each other. George's cheeks were a shade of pink, and I assumed mine were similar.

It was a slightly uncomfortable silence. Neither of us really having the right words to say after that. Being the awkward person I am, I couldn't take the silence for very long.

I sighed, a nervous laugh escaping my lips. "If this were a cheesy rom-com, you probably would have kissed me after that wrestling match." He laughed as well, the tension breaking ever so slightly. I felt my body relax into him, the situation feeling now more comfortable than it had just a few moments ago.

"I still could, rom-com or not." He said. My eyes snapped to meet his, scanning for any sign of humor. There was none.

"Are you serious?" I asked, voice soft as his arm reached up to scratch the back of his neck, a movement I recognized as something he does when he's anxious.

"Yeah, if you are?" He said matching my tone.

I smiled, thinking back to the caption of the video I had just watched. It's not often that the fans are right in their speculations, but a broken clock is still right once a day.

I leaned forward, cupping his stubbled jaw with my hand, he matched my movement and his hand found my waist as we met in the middle, lips hesitantly touching for a few moments. The kiss was short and sweet, both of us smiling through the entire moment.

As I pulled away, the pink color of his cheeks had deepened.

"Why did it take us so long to do that?" I asked, scooting closer to him so I was pressed against him.

———

He smiled, running his hand along my waist and hip.

"I don't know, but I'd like to keep doing it." He said, grip tightening on my hip.

We met again, this time the kiss was fervent. All boundaries down and out the window. I gripped the hair at the back of his neck, his hand cheekily moving to grab my bum as I tossed a leg over his waist and pressed myself into him.

A soft groan left his lips, only pushing me to further my actions. I slid my hand up his shirt, feeling his toned stomach and chest. He sat up, pulling his top over his head and tossing it to the side. I had seen George without a too many times, but now with these new found feelings I felt myself getting turned on by the sight.

He mirrored my actions, sliding my top up slightly, looking at me for permission. I nodded, helping him remove it, the pile of clothes now growing on the floor. His gaze met my lace bralette, widening at the sight.

"Do you always wear this?" He asked, toying with the detailing along the sides. It was one of my favorites mainly for comfort, but it truly left nothing to the imagination considering the sheer nature of it. I quickly discarded it, leaving my top fully exposed to him. He almost hesitantly ran his hand along the side of my torso, barely touching my breast.

"George, I promise you I want this just as much as you do. You can touch me." He nodded, a sudden confidence coming over him as he sat up to straddle me, leaning back in to kiss me.

I was growing impatient, my hands reaching out and tugging at the waistband of his shorts. I felt his growing bulge as I did this, suddenly feeling that warm tingling feeling inside, knowing I was about to cross a new line with my best friend. He assisted me and slid his shorts and boxers down, freeing his penis which I couldn't help but stare at as he discarded his shorts to the floor.

"Can I?" He asked, gesturing towards my bottoms as well. I nodded, mouth feeling slightly dry from the moment.

I now laid there, fully exposed to him. His eyes never left my body, drinking in the entire moment. He moved down on the bed, his hands trailing my waist down to my thighs, spreading them so he could have a better angle to see me at. His eyes lit up, pulling me closer as he gave me one final look before attaching himself to where I needed him most. My back arched immediately, the pleasure rushing through me within just a moment of George's work.

He took his time, exploring every part of me, savoring the moment. I could tell how much he was enjoying the pleasure he brought me as he gripped my thighs tighter as small moans escaped my lips.

I tangled my hands in his hair, that familiar feeling building in me. "Don't stop" I breathed, feeling the pleasure wash over me as I squirmed under his touch, the feeling stimulating me in the perfect way.

He then sat up, smirking at me lying there breathless, eyes barely open. He leaned into me, body pressed against mine as his lips attached to mine again. I ran my hands up his toned back as we kissed, feeling his prominent boner against my stomach. I reached between us, hand finding his length and he moaned at the first contact, hips pushing into my hand as I stroked him. I was surprised at the length and girth he had, excited to see how it would feel inside me.

I pushed the tip down to meet my entrance, whimpering as it glided over my already sensitive clit.

He took control, lining himself up with me and slightly pushing in, allowing me time to adjust. He was by far the biggest I had been with, the stretch alone feeling like enough to make me cum all over again.

When he finally bottomed out, he leaned into me, kissing me softly, the both of us taking a few moments to enjoy the connection. It felt natural, it felt right.

It felt so good. George started moving slightly, his hips creating a slow, rhythmic pace as he continued kissing me. This was more than just sex. This was what it felt like to actually make love to someone. I hadn't experienced this before, and clearly neither had George as he held me close.

"I'm yours" I whispered, kissing him once more. He quickened his pace, hands gripping my hips tight to steady himself.

As his movement started slowing, I could tell he was getting closer. Within a few more amazingly pleasurable strokes, he pulled out, using his hand for the final few pumps to bring him to his climax as well. I watched as his brows furrowed and his face contorted, his climax washing over him and in turn the result spilling onto my stomach and chest.

George's breath was heavy, he stepped off the bed, going to his en suite to grab a towel, cleaning the both of us off. He crawled back into bed, pulling me close to him. I kissed him again, pulling the duvet over us.

"Who would have thought all it took was a fan edit." I said, kissing his chest as I laid against it. He laughed, kissing the top of my head.

"Guess we have someone to thank then."

We heard a knock at the door, both of our eyes widening.

"Finally you two saw what we've all known for years!" Arthur shouted from the other side of the door. I felt my cheeks immediately heating up as him and Chris laughed from outside the room.

"We're never living that one down are we?" I asked.

"Never." He replied.