clarkeysbedchem

[clarkeysbedchem]

thinking of @roc-haze rn

[clarkeysbedchem]

i bloody love smau fics sm

cutting edge 🎀 (george clarke x reader smau)

Author's Note: I so appreciate the lovely response my last smau got, so here's another one! Please give it a like and a reblog if you enjoy, really trying to grow my blog atm! Also any feedback is appreciated, too. // p.s if you have any suggestions for future smaus, please just send me an ask xx

pairing: george clarke x hairdresser!reader, features from some of the other crew

description: you've spent your life building the business of your dreams - when your work starts to gain traction online, who knows who you'll meet along the way?

warnings: none, really! just fluffy stuff forever // all pics sourced on instagram or pinterest, y/n is female presenting

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hairbyyn

liked by livvydimartino, sabinablair_, yourbestfriend, yoursalon and others

hairbyyn a few fresh heads from the last couple days ❤️‍🔥

tagged livvydimartino, sabinablair_, yoursalon

livvydimartino amazing job as always y/n, you are magic ✨ hairbyyn come back soon x

faithlouisak love love love hairbyyn omg thank you faith!

sabinablair_ brb recommending you to all of my friends x yourusername you angellll 🥰

hairbyyn posted a story!

' thank you so much for all of the enquiries - i'm just getting around to responding to dms now. i've spent my life building this salon and i'm so lucky to have everyone's support. lets go!! @/yoursalon '

yourusername

liked by faithlouisak, lando, bambinobecky and others

yourusername life comes at ya fast girls

yourbestfriend pretty girl x yourusername ily x

milzzjo miss you yourusername miss you too mills, meet up soon ❤️

max_balegde check your dms hoe yourusername oop sorry boo

max_balegde posted a story!

'the only haircut i've gotten that hasn't traumatised me. thank you to @/hairbyyn for sorting me out last minute for the BAFTAs 💌'

hairbyyn

liked by willne, jamesmarriottyt, georgeclarkeey and others

hairbyyn so delighted to finally share this with you! thanks so much to will and james for the opportunity, it was my pleasure. btw, i got paid in a lifetime supply of rodds 🕺 tagged willne, jamesmarriottyt, georgeclarkeey, gingerbreadlamb and roddsroddsrodds

willne best mullets ever seen

georgeclarkeey can't believe i had to hide the fresh cut with that police hat yourusername worth it officer

user1 oh shes famous famous

user2 why is NO ONE talking about y/ns reply to george

jamesmarriottyt thanks so much y/n! 😎

yourusername

liked by yourbestfriend, chrismd10, italianbach and others

yourusername whatever happens, i'm letting it tagged yourbestfriend, livvydimartino, glambyflo, sabinablair_

user3 OHHHHH who is that in pic 3

user4 okay tag everyone but the guy

yourbestfriend 👀 okay girl tell us NOTHING

georgeclarkeey i say we don't leave the strawberries out where gizmo can get them ever again user5 GEORGE SPILLED THE BEANS LIVE ON INSTAGRAM

livvydimartino 💖 yourusername 💖

georgeclarkeey posted a story!

yourusername posted a story!

georgeclarkeeyy

liked by yourusername, arthurfnhill, willne and others

georgeclarkeey Some recent side quests and the best haircut of my life

italianbach whipped livvydimartino ur one to talk

arthurfnhill everybody knows that im a good girl officer

liked by yourusername

user1 SOFT LAUNCH I REPEAT SOFT LAUNCH

user2 thats y/n if i've ever seen it

chrismd10 a woman on the george clarke instagram page? who wouldve thunk it

yourusername the best model of my life georgeclarkeey shush you x

hairbyyn

liked by yoursalon, georgeclarkeey, soph, chrismd10 and others

hairbyyn what started as doing hair in my room for my friends before nights out has turned into something i could only ever dream of as a little girl. i cannot thank you all enough for your continued support and to all the people i've met along the way, i will love you all forever!

while my client list is now closed, you can join our wait list through the link in @/yoursalon bio, thank you all again x

georgeclarkeey never ever going to another barber again georgeclarkeey i'm so proud of you poppet yourusername okay fine you can have a free haircut x

yourbestfriend cannot believe you still have that picture of us, congratulations my love 😻

faithlouisak my hair has never looked better 💇‍♀️

hairbyyn posted a story!

'congratulations to lando for winning his home race today! it was so great to be able to get him in for a refresh of his iconic cut before Silverstone. LN4 on top!!'

yourusername

liked by arthurfnhill, arthurtv, chrismd10 and others

yourusername it's about time for the hard launch, i think. i brought my boyfriend to work today and i couldnt have asked for a better assistant. never ever ever stop being just you, clarke.

georgeclarkeey lets cut @/georgerussell63 hair next! georgerussell63 absolutely not, mate

georgeclarkeey never ever ever stop being just you, either

arthurtv mr clarke keeping us fed on main

chrismd10 stop giggling at your phone george arthurfnhill we can both hear you

user1 okay then i'm deleting my account

user2 screaming crying throwing up

user3 okay lowkey y/n and george both deserve this so much they work so hard

sidemen collab soon? 😎 user4 okay sidemen admin i guess the hairs getting a bit long

georgeclarkeey posted a story!

'no stream tonight guys. as you can see i have died and gone to heaven'

yourusername posted a story!

'taking a well deserved break to just be. chat soon x'

[clarkeysbedchem]

hi lovelies !!

some of you might’ve noticed (or not) but i haven’t posted a new fic for a while and i feel like i should let you all know why.

firstly, there’s no big drama or anything and i’m not qutting this blog but i am taking a break from posting fics for a little while. i’ve decided to do this bc as sad as it is to admit, i’ve fallen out of love with the ukyt scene.

this is bc of many reasons. the main reason is bc of certain groups making this community a negative and toxic place, that is just not good for my mental health. i love all of boys so much and i’ll always be a fan of them, but i’m taking a step back from engaging in the fandom for the time being.

the second reason being that i simply don’t have the motivation or time to write at this moment in time. i recently started back in my job and with the hours i work, i have no time to write or for myself really and i also don’t want to force any mediocre content for anyone.

i hope you all understand my decision and just know that i will still be active on this blog just not posting fics for a while until i find love for it again.

lots of love,

kirst 🩵🤍

[clarkeysbedchem]

btw if you thinking sending hate to people, then you are a sad lowlife. tilda and livvy are 2 of the most talented, sweetest and caring people in our community on this app and for people to think its okay to hate on them ia repulsive.

if you’re jealous bc they can write better than you ever will be able to just say that. these are two very real people behind their accounts, and they have feelings, so please think before you start hating on them.

we all write these fics bc we enjoy it! the support we get from posting them is just a bonus, but the hate makes us less inclined to share our works. if you dont like what people have wrote scroll away its that easy. i also ask that if you are sending livvy and tilda hate, please do not engage with any of my content, i want nothing to do with you on my account.

the ukyt community is meant to be a comforting safe place but recently its becoming more toxic as the days go on and its not fair bc thats not who we are.

so please in the future, think before you type.

as in why do you waste your time in something so meaningless and no offence but kinda bad

LMFAO who even are you.. are you the same person from @livvymd who was leaving her comments on her inbox aboht her work. as a follow up (i don't know why you didn't make it one inbox....) i write because i fuckin enjoy it and if you don't, scroll. i promise i won't be offended if i don't receive your like. as I said the george clarke one, which i assume you were talking about, isn't my favourite either. i picked it up after three weeks - but meaningless? i think that's just you, anxiety has taken up lots of my teenage years and for me to put that into my 'bad writing' or whatever you want to call it is liberating. i have finished all my exams, i don't have a job yet - writing is a hobby. im not a trained professional. also the fact this is anonymous is making me HOWL please grow a backbone

[clarkeysbedchem]

I will NEVER let ppl forget that Brad Pitt terrorised and beat Angelina Jolie and their kids so bad on a plane ride that a report was filed by the FBI with multiple witnesses. And I will never forget that Angelina Jolie filed for divorce from him almost immediately after that incident in 2016 and it wasn't until THIS YEAR that Pitt agreed to it after ALMOST A DECADE of dragging her and their kids through bullshit defamation court proceedings. But you'd never know because that fucker is everywhere with his fake racecar movie and shitty cheek fillers and everyone just eats it up. So many people warned that the Depp v Heard case would light the way for famous abusers to be rehabilitated in the public eye and it did. It proved to abusers that they don't even need to be sorry or acknowledge what they did they can just keep showing up, smear their victims behind the scenes with astro turfing and let the fans and industry do the rest. brad pitt, Kevin Spacey, James Franco, Ezra Miller, Johnny Depp etc. all of them are thriving in the spotlight rn and being invited to major industry events and even winning awards despite documented incidents of abuse. It's so fucking depressing.

[clarkeysbedchem]

hi everyone !! as im sure a lot of you have noticed i’ve started to write for 9-1-1 (yay). I’ve decided that it would be easier to make a separate blog for my 9-1-1 fics just so that my ukyt stuff is separate from it !!

if you would still like to read my 9-1-1 stuff, you can follow my new blog cowboylikebuddie

[clarkeysbedchem]

FROM THE TOP 

arthur hill x fem!reader - angst/fluff (slowburn)

for you @cheekytv - hope you enjoy, it defo didn't take a month!!,, i loved writing this !!

It's a Tuesday morning when you walk into the rehearsal studio, it smells like cheap coffee and hairspray. You’re already at the piano, singing harmonies when the door swings open and Arthur saunters in. Black hoodie, dark jeans, curls messy - and you knew he hadn't bothered to fix them, not that you're surprised. “Morning,” he says, voice deep with sleep, of course he slept in. Typical. “So nice of you to start without me.”

“Hate to break it to you, Hill, but I don't have time to waste waiting for you to remember to set an alarm,” you reply, voice clipped, not even looking up.

He drops his bag with a thud and flops into the chair beside you, legs spread, elbows resting on his knees. “Careful, love,” he says, grinning. “That stick that you clearly have rammed so far up your arse might snap.”

You shoot him a look. “You’ve been fucking insufferable since the term started, you think you're all that now you're getting a bit of recognition through Spotify.”

“Correction,” he says. “I’ve been brilliant since the term started and only improving, you're either mardy because you know I'm better, or worried because I'm getting somewhere with music - you bloody well know it, that's why you're in a huff.”

You’re half way through your retort when the door swings open again - your performing arts Professor enters hurriedly, filling the room with her floral perfume, and you immediately lock eyes on her no-nonsense facial expression, and you knew you weren't going to like what she was about to tell you.

“I’m going to make this quick,” she says, tossing her reddish curls, and straightening her jumper. “You’re both good - too good, and frankly, I’m tired of your nonstop arguing that's bloomed as a result of your weird competitive streaks. So here's what I'm going to do - there would usually be a solo, but this year it's a two-person piece.”

Your whole body tenses, Arthur straightens up.

“One duet,” she continues. “One scene, your shot at the showcase. You either learn to work together, or I will cut you both before either of you complain about the other.”

You both open your mouths at the same time.

“No.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Oh, I am deadly serious about this, so do not even try sweettalking me out of this,” she says, already walking out. “Rehearsals start on Friday.” The door slams behind her, silence suffocating you both.

Arthur leans back in his chair (again), before sighing and muttering, “Well, fuck me.”

You exhale sharply, fingers pinching the bridge of your nose - anticipating a headache. “That was the plan.”

He looks at you, smirk visible on his stupid face and you immediately regret that phrasing.

He grins, edging closer. “Didn’t know you fantasised about me, love, but good to know - very good to know indeed.”

“Oh, piss off.”

You plan to meet in Studio 3 that same Friday. He’s late, of course. When he finally strolls in - all loose limbs and zero urgency - you’re already irritated as you've been behind the piano for twenty minutes, warming up.

“Sorry,” he says. “Had to grab a coffee, d'you fancy one?”

You give him a look, wanting to get this over as fast as possible - you had people to see, things to do, and couldn't afford to stand around all day. “Right,” he mutters. “Forgot you're bitchy when people work on your time."

You ignore him and nod toward the sheet music. “Start from verse two, and don’t rush the line this time.”

He walks over to the stereo and switches it on lazily. “It’s called having emotion, ever heard of it?”

“It’s called tempo and rhythm.”

“It’s called boring if we do it your way.”

You stand and run your fingers through your hair. God he grinds your gears - you don't know what bit about him boils your blood but you have had enough. “Arthur, this is not your Saturday night down the pub. This is the uni showcase - our one chance to get somewhere, with thousands of people, including scouts and critics watching. So forgive me for being passionate.”

“You think I don’t bloody know that?” he snaps, stepping closer. “I want this just as much as you, even more maybe.”

You’re toe to toe now, foreheads touching. You're both glaring, your chests rising and falling rapidly. God, he’s infuriating, fuck why did he have to be attractive, obviously the boy you hated was unfairly fit. For your own sanity, you push that thought far far down.

“Then prove it,” you challenge.

He stares at you for a second. He restarts the track and the two of you start again, this time, slower, measured. You could have sworn that for a single second, you blend - compliment eachother even. You both feel it, this newfound understanding and connection. Neither of you acknowledge it, but your heart warms at the knowledge of this feeling.

It’s ten at night a few weeks later, and you’re both knackered, sweaty, starving, and straight from a three-hour rehearsal. However, to your surprise, you're growing closer together, it's almost as if something keeps pulling you both back - back to that harmony, that peace, the odd moment of competition that somehow became your norm.

Arthur’s sitting cross-legged on the bench onstage, picking at the sticker on the bottom of his mic. You’re stretched out on the floor opposite him, sipping lukewarm tea.

“Reckon she's laughing her head off right now,” he says quietly. “Putting us together, watching us compete until we go mental..”

You laugh, surprising even yourself, if you told yourself even a fornight ago that you would get along with Arthur, you would've laughed. “She’s sadistic, I fuckin' respect it.”

He glances at you. “Y'know, you’re not actually as much as a dick as I thought you were, you're actually alright.”

You raise a brow. “High praise.”

He leans his head back against the wall. “I didn't expect it but under all the 'bitchy'ness and stress and general aggression, there’s an actual semi-decent person in there.”

“Well what do you want me to say Arthur? That you’re not just a walking ego with a Spotify following and a fuckin' God complex?”

He picks up on the final bit of your sentence, and grins. “You think I’m like God?”

“Christ.”

Silence falls and you’re suddenly very aware of how close he is. Of the way his foot brushes yours. Of how his eyes, his mind-numbingly beautiful hazel eyes flicker to your mouth. It shouldn't be like this, you're meant to hate him. He's meant to hate you back.

You clear your throat and stand, you need to break up whatever the hell is going on. “We should run it again.”

“Yeah,” he says, voice low, you hope he's picked up on your sudden change in mood. "From the top."

The dressing room is a blur of hairspray, nerves, preshow KFC and adrenaline. You’re in your stage clothes - sleek black, mic clipped to your ear. Your hands are shaking slightly, you haven't been this nervous in a long time. You pin it down to wanting to outshine your duet partner.

Arthur appears behind you in the mirror, black button-down, sleeves rolled up. Hair messy in the way that somehow works. Jesus fuck, he is so hot, just a shame he would never like you back.

“You ready?” he asks, a small look of concern etched on his face.

“No,” you admit, hoping the Dutch courage would kick in sometime soon.

He smiles, slow - unexpected. “You’ll be brilliant.”

You turn to face him. “You’re different tonight, you're not being a dick, it suits you.”

He shrugs. “Guess after this long of surviving eachother, I've come to tolerate you, maybe even like you.”

A beat of silence, then the stage manager waves you on. The stage lights are blinding, the backing track plays, the one you've grown very sick of.

You step forward. It's time for your duet - you’ve never heard your voice like this, not until it’s intertwined with his. You don’t even know what verse you’re on, or what the choreo’s meant to be, because Arthur’s voice is in your ear and your heart is pounding so fast you fear it may burst, but when he reaches out to take your hand in the chorus - you let him.

The final note hits like lightning, you don't even care that the belt had you out of breath when the crowd erupts.

You’re both breathless, frozen - hands laced together. Sweat is forming on both your brows, your chests are heaving. You've never felt so content, so at peace.

You think he might kiss you right there, you're disappointed when he doesn't.

The cast floods into the pub with sticky floors and dodgy, underfunded lighting. You don’t care, you’re buzzing. You're pretty sure that you are still carrying the same stance and feeling how you were on that stage.

Arthur appears beside you with two tequila shots. “To not fucking it up,” he announces, holding up the glass in cheers.

You clink glasses. “To not killing each other, reckon Prof is shocked we have even got along.”

You both throw them back.

One turns into three, then four. Tequila always hit you like a truck - making you dangerously giggly and even more dangerously truthful.

Now you’re in a booth, laughing like idiots, head spinning. Arthur leans closer. “You were bloody unreal tonight, blew me away.”

“You too,” you say. “God, I can’t believe I’m saying that.”

He smirks. “Careful, might get used to all these compliments.”

You shake your head, smiling into your pint. “I still cannot stand you.”

“Liar.”

You look at him and something in the air shifts. The noise of the bar and your brain fades.

“I wanted to kiss you on that stage,” he says, out of the blue. “Thought I was losing my mind.”

You blink, stunned. You wanted him to kiss you too. “Why didn’t you?”

“I don't know.” He licks his lips. “Didn’t know if you’d slap me or kiss me back, love.”

You stare at him, you curse yourself for the amount of alcohol which has made you lose all filter. “Try it and find out.”

His hand slides to your jaw, slow, almost tentative. Then his mouth is on yours.

It’s messy, God, it’s so much - so hot and all-consuming. His teeth clash against yours, his mouth hot on yours. It’s everything the music was hinting at, everything the rivalry masked - all this stupid tension when you really had a fat crush on eachother. Typical.

One year later, and the rehearsal room doesn’t smell as bad anymore - or maybe you’ve just been in it so long, it feels like a second-home now. You’re sitting on the same edge of the same piano bench, flipping through this year’s showcase sheet. It’s a solo number, it’s stunning. And it’s all yours, no competition this time, no auditions. You miss the hour-long arguments you and he had.

“You’ve earned it,” she’d said. “Yours alone, if you want it.”

And for a moment, you did.

Until Arthur walked in.

“Don’t tell me we’re reliving last year,” he says, tossing his bag to the floor. “Because I don’t think my ego, and all my new Spotify followers can survive another showdown with you.”

You glance at him, smirking. “You think I’d risk losing again?”

There’s a quiet moment, not charged like before — just soft and ever so familiar. Is this what deja vu is?

“I was offered the solo for this year,” you announce.

His brows lift, arms opening. “Congrats, darlin', that’s huge.”

“I turned it down.”

“What? Why?”

You close your folder, the annotated sheet music embedded within. “I asked if I could do a duet instead.”

He’s quiet, and hilariously unknowing. “With who?”

You give him a look, one of those 'come on, think about it,' looks. His lips part slightly. “You serious?”

You nod. “It’s different now,”

Arthur leans back, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “You’re right. We’re not fighting for the spotlight anymore.”

“No, now we both shine under the same spotlight, together." And it hits you suddenly how far you've both come.

Last year, it was about proving something. This year? It's about letting the other dazzle, sharing the spotlight, supporting eachother.

He moves to switch on the same battered stereo, you meet his gaze.

“From the top?” he asks.

You smile, gazing into his eyes adoringly. “Yeah, let’s make it shine.”

@pretendyoucantseeme, @rkaya, @clarkeysbedchem, @xoxoxyra, @theoreticallythe, @hoomin10

click here to join my taglist

[clarkeysbedchem]

successful schemes

evan buckley x diaz! reader

summary: eddie and chris come up with a plan to finally get you and buck together

main masterlist | masterlist

The plan started the same way as most of Diaz boys' schemes did. Quietly, with a subtle nudge from Eddie and his enthusiastic co-conspirator, Christopher, tagging along for the plan. Ever since you had moved to California to live with Eddie to help out with Chris, your little trio had fallen back into their familiar rhythm once again. You cooked dinner when your brother was working late shifts, packed lunches, drove Chris to his appointments, and never complained about any of it. You were just happy to be back with your boys.

For you, being with your brother and nephew was home. The chaos that never left, the late-night cartoons with Chris, the soft laughter that bounced off the walls no matter what. The only thing that made you pause, that made your heart ache in that specific unamable way was Evan Buckley.

Buck, with his boyish smile and his boisterous ways. Buck, who had taken to Christopher like a duck to water, and who always had a special way of making you feel like the only person in the room. You brushed it off telling yourself that it was just Buck being Buck, a shameless flirt. Eddie saw through it though, saw the glances when you both thought nobody was paying attention, saw the lingering touches, and apparently so did Chris.

Which was exactly the reason why Eddie had casually called Buck one Saturday afternoon with a tone that screamed nothing is going on, definitely no secret plans here.

“You need me to watch Chris?” Buck blinked, pressing the phone closer to his ear, “Isn’t your sister there?”

“She’s busy,” Eddie replied smoothly, “And Carla had something come up.”

There was a suspicious beat of silence, “Then you could’ve called Carla's backup nurse.”

“I could’ve,” Eddie agreed, far too casually, “But I trust you, Buck. You’re good with him.”

Buck sounded hesitant, “You sure? I mean, y/n’s usually-”

“I’m sure,” Eddie cut in quickly, “Can you be here in ten?”

Buck looked around his empty apartment, “Yeah. I’m on my way.”

You had just finished rinsing the conditioner from the ends of your hair, the steam from the water clinging to the mirror in cloudy swirls, when you heard the sound of the front door clicking open. You frowned. The boys wouldn’t be back yet, you had been sent a photo of Chris munching on popcorn not even an hour ago, and Carla wasn’t due till the morning.

You wrapped a thick towel around your frame, cautiously padding down the hallway with a brush in your hand – not that that would do much to an intruder. As you rounded the corner, you collided into the hard chest of a shocked, wide-eyed Buck.

“Jesus!” You yelped, the towel nearly slipping from your fingers as you jumped back, eyes equally as wide.

“Holy! Sorry! I’m so sorry!” Buck spun around so fast he almost tripped over his own feet, shielding his eyes with one hand, “I didn’t, Eddie said, I thought no one was, oh my God.”

You clutched the towel tighter to your body, blinking at the back of his head, “What are you doing here?”

His eyes remained locked firmly on the wall, “Eddie called. Said he needed someone to watch Chris. Told me you weren’t around.”

Your eyebrows scrunched as you narrowed your eyes, your brain working through the pieces, “They’re not even here. Chris and Eddie went to the movies with Carla. They sent me a photo.”

A beat of silence passed.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, letting out a laugh. The realisation of what was happening dawning over the both of you.

“We’ve been set up,” Buck said, voice flat with disbelief.

“I can’t believe they did this,” you muttered, “Actually yes, I can. This is exactly the kind of thing they would do.”

From his position facing the kitchen wall, Buck let out a nervous laugh jabbing his thumb towards the door, “Should I go?”

You rolled you eyes and spinning on your heel back toward the bathroom, “No. Don’t go. Just stay there, I’m not wearing pants.”

“Copy that. Staying put.”

Ten minutes later, you emerged from the bathroom fully dressed in cozy joggers and a worn tank top with your towel dried stuck between your shoulder blades. Buck was still stood awkwardly near the kitchen, hands in his hoodie pockets, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to sit down.

Your expression softened, “I ordered pizza just before I showered. It should be here soon. And there’s beer in the fridge if you want one.”

Buck blinked, “Wait, you still want me to stay?”

“I mean…” you shrugged, feigning casual, “I was planning on a chill night but now that you’re here might as well not waste the pizza.”

He smiled. That soft, crinkly-eyed smile that always made your knees buckle a little, “Twist my arm, why don’t you.”

An hour later, the living room was littered with empty plates and two half-finished beers. The TV playing an old movie neither of you were really watching. It had become background noise to your conversation.

Buck told stories from past firehouse shifts that had you doubled over gripping his arm to steady herself. You shared stories about growing up in Texas with Eddie, including a particularly embarrassing anecdote that involved a slip-and-slide, a beehive, and a trip to the ER that made Buck nearly choke on his beer.

As the evening wore on, the movement in the apartment slowed as yawns snuck their way in between sentences. The air grew warmer, softer, and thicker with the kind of quiet that came not from silence but from comfort.

You had found yourself tucked into Buck’s side with your legs curled beneath you on the couch. You weren’t sure when you had shifted positions, but you knew that you felt safe there.

“You know,” Buck murmured as you laid your head on his chest listening to the soft beats of his heart, “I think they knew exactly what they were doing.”

You chuckled sleepily, “Yeah. They played us.”

He shifted slightly, tightening his arm around your waist, “I’m not mad about it.”

And neither were you.

By the time Eddie and Chris got it back to the house, you were both fast asleep on the couch. Eddie opened the apartment door, carrying a sleeping Christopher inside with his head laying on his father's shoulder. Eddie quietly made his way towards the living room hearing the faint sounds of the TV playing and he assumed you’d be sat awake watching whatever show you were currently obsessed with.

But instead, he froze. There, tangled together on the couch, laid you and Buck. You were sprawled across him, cheek pressed against his chest, one of your arms curled under his hoodie. Buck’s arms were firmly around your waist, holding you impossibly close even in sleep. His chin rested lightly against the top of your head.

Eddie stood still for a moment, lips quirking.

Christopher lifted his head, rubbing his eyes sleepily under his glasses.

“Did it work?” he whispered.

Eddie smiled, carrying him to bed.

“Yeah, buddy,” he whispered back, “It worked.”

The morning sun filtered in through the thin curtains of the living room, casting soft, long shadows across the walls. The house was still, wrapped in the sleepy hush of early morning. The only sounds that were heard was the quiet hum of the fridge and the rhythmic breathing of two people still tangled up in last night’s unintended nap.

You stirred first. Your head tucked against a warm chest; your arm looped lazily around a waist. The steady rise and fall of someone else’s breathing lulling you for a few moments longer until… Wait.

Your eyes blinked open. You're lying on Buck.

Your body was still sprawled over his, one leg tangled between his. His arms remained wrapped tightly around her middle like a human seatbelt, his grip strong even in sleep. His face, relaxed and soft in the golden light, was nestled against her hair.

“Oh my God,” you whispered under your breath making Buck stirred beneath you.

His arms tightened instinctively for a second before he blinked awake, his gaze hazy with sleep and confusion, “Mmh, y/n?”

You froze. He blinked again. And then it hit him. His eyes widened.

“Oh. oh my God.” His voice shot up an octave as he pulled back slightly but didn’t fully let go, “I didn’t, I mean, I must’ve. Did we fall asleep?”

“We definitely fell asleep,” you nodded, voice barely above a whisper.

They both looked down at their position. You laying half on top of him, his large hands splayed across the small of you back, their legs intertwined. The awkwardness settling in quickly.

“I should probably get up,” you said, but didn’t make any move to actually do so.

“Right, yeah,” Buck said, though he didn’t move either.

Another beat passed and then Buck let out a small chuckle.

You quirked an eyebrow, “What?”

He shook his head with a crooked smile, “Nothing. Just, I’ve imagined waking up with you a few times, but this isn’t quite how it went in my head.”

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes locking onto his.

He flushed instantly, “Crap. That was, sorry, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

You tried to bite back the smile on your lips, but failed, “You’ve imagined waking up with me?”

“Maybe. A few times.”

Something soft unfurled in your chest. You ducked your head shyly, cheeks warm “Well,” you murmured, “aside from the pizza breath and waking up fully clothed, I guess it could’ve been worse.”

Buck laughed again, “Yeah. Not the most romantic first sleepover.”

You sat up finally, stretching out your arms, “Still kind of perfect, though.”

He watched you, eyes flickered over your warm skin, lingering on the sleepy warmth in your smile, before darting to your exposed midriff, admiring the way the early morning light kissed your skin. His heart thudded in a way that had nothing to do with awkwardness anymore.

Just as he opened his mouth to say something when the front door creaked open, “Well, well, well,” came Eddie’s amused voice, “Look who decided to turn the couch into a bed.”

Buck nearly flung himself off the couch as you scrambled upright, flattening down your hair as if that would help the situation.

Christopher padded in right behind Eddie, looking far too smug for a ten-year-old, “You’re still cuddling?” he asked, grinning wide.

“We weren’t! We just!” Buck sputtered for an excuse, running a hand through his messy hair.

You rolled your eyes shoving his arm playfully, “We fell asleep, that’s it.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, “Right. Totally innocent. Just two friends, tangled together, dead asleep on the couch. Happens all the time.”

“All the time,” Christopher echoed with a giggle.

Buck buried his face in his hands, “I walked into a trap.”

“More like snuggled into it,” Eddie quipped, heading toward the kitchen holding up the two grocery bags in his hands, “You want eggs, or should I leave you two to continue your spooning?”

You let out a groan as you flopped back on the couch, “I’m never living this down, am I?”

“Absolutely not,” Eddie called.

Buck glanced down at you, a teasing smile tugging at his lips, “Hey, if it helps, I’m not complaining.”

You lifted your head to look at him, one brow raised in questioning.

“About last night,” he added, voice more serious now, “About this. I know it was unplanned, but I really liked being here. With you.”

Your teasing expression softened, “I liked it too,” you admitted quietly.

And even with Eddie purposefully banging pans in the kitchen and Christopher humming a love song mockingly under his breath, Buck leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, a moment that was soft and full of promise.

“Next time,” he said, “let’s do that on purpose.”

You smiled, “Deal.”

taglist: @sdmnpact @triplefrontierbabe @cornliastreett @whorephoryou @mothersversiononly @sapphirest0nes @clarkeyscvntymullet

[clarkeysbedchem]

nsfw alphabet [harry lewis]

inspired by @raekensluver’s own incredible harry nsfw alphabet 💗💗💗

MDNI / 18+ !!!

—

a (aftercare) ♡ what’s he like after sex?

- he's beat, but so cuddly. he always makes you get up to pee before you get too comfy, but by the time you return, he's cleaned up, untangled the sheets, and gotten back in bed, ready to wrap himself around you like a koala, his big, warm hands caressing your body until you conk out.

b (body part) ♡ his favorite on you? on himself?

- harry loves your curves — especially your chest. he falls asleep with his hand on a boob regularly, always mumbling about how soft and perfect you are, and he can't resist kissing the tops of your breasts and burying his face in them when you're tangled together at night.

- to the detriment of his own humbleness, he is acutely aware of how beautiful his eyes are, and he loves knowing that you completely melt under his intense gaze. he can bat his pretty lashes at you and get whatever he wants. he's not the best at keeping direct eye contact with other people in his day-to-day, but he has no issue keeping his eyes locked on yours, especially in bed.

c (cum) ♡ where does he like to finish?

- nothing feels better to harry than burying himself deep in your pussy when he orgasms, feeling you squeeze around him and milk him dry. he loves finishing on your chest and your butt sometimes, but you're both lazy as hell after sex and can't be bothered to deal with the mess, so he usually reserves that for when you're in the shower (though he can't always help himself).

d (dirty secret) ♡ what are his fantasies? what’s he hiding?

- harry's never really hid the fact that he's into butt stuff, after being somewhat coerced into admitting it during a lie detector test video years ago. he was a little nervous to ask you about it at first, but he loves the nights when you give him some special attention back there. you haven't pegged him (yet), but he thinks about begging for it a little more every time you hit his sweet spot.

e (experience) ♡ does he know what he’s doing?

- he's experienced, but not too experienced, if that makes sense. he can still be a little clumsy and uncoordinated when he's impatient, but he does know what he's doing, and he knows what to listen for — your responsiveness to his touch telling him everything he needs to know to make you feel good. he's always been a great listener.

f (favorite position) ♡ how does he like it best?

- he knows that you're lowkey a total pillow princess, and he loves taking care of you. when he's feeling romantic, he likes starting in missionary before lifting your legs onto his shoulders and grinding deep into you, but sometimes he wants nothing more than to grab you by your hips and pull you to the edge of the bed, pressing your face into the pillow and slamming into you from behind.

g (goofiness) ♡ does he make you laugh during?

- harry is rarely completely serious, so of course you're laughing in bed. when things get really hot and heavy, he drops the bit and locks in, but beforehand when it's all just sweet kisses and teasing foreplay, he's got you giggling big time.

h (hair) ♡ is he well-groomed?

- he trims semi-regularly, but he's so clean in general that you don't even really care when he's a bit lazy between trims. his hair is so light that it's hardly even noticeable anyway.

- he doesn't really care what you do with your hair — knowing damn well you're not trying to deal with the torture of getting waxed — but he does love when you're freshly trimmed. you're lazy sometimes too though, and that's fine with him.

i (intimacy) ♡ is he romantic in the moment?

- he can be so romantic... sometimes. wanting nothing more than to kiss you all night and take his sweet time languidly unraveling you. he's much better at showing his love than saying it, and nights like those are when he reminds you just how much you mean to him, making sure there's no question in your mind that he fucking adores you.

(don't get it twisted: he still makes his love abundantly clear even when he's not feeling gentle or romantic. nothing reassures you quite as effectively as his insatiable need when he's aching to get his hands on you, his eyes hungry and mouth greedy against your skin. he leaves no room for uncertainty.)

j (jacking off) ♡ masturbation headcannon

- he definitely does it pretty regularly, especially with how much he travels, and he texts you the filthiest things when he's really missing you, often resulting in absurdly hot phone sex.

sometimes he gets off on the video he took of you sucking his dick once, but sometimes he doesn't even need it; just the thought of you moaning his name and the phantom sensation of your soft skin under his calloused hands is enough to do him in.

k (kinks) ♡ what’s he into?

- controversially (but of course, consensually), somnophilia. he loves waking you up with his head between your legs, on lazy weekend mornings or when he stumbles home drunk at 3 AM dying to have you. sometimes you repay the favor, waking him up with your lips wrapped around him... or taking him for a ride. he cums so fast when he rouses to you using him like that.

- he also likes to dabble in a bit of voyeurism, after coming home early one day and catching you pleasuring yourself in the shower. now you let him "catch" you on purpose, leading to some steamy mutual masturbation sessions... when he can keep his hands to himself.

l (location) ♡ where does he like to have sex?

- generally, he prefers to pound you into the mattress of your big comfy bed, but sometimes, you end up bent over the kitchen counter with your dress bunched up at your waist on the days when he really can't wait another second.

...and no one has to know that he fucked you on the moresidemen couch that one time.

m (motivation) ♡ what turns him on?

- massages. he lives for a good backrub, and your fingers work magic on his muscles. he can't help himself when he's lying face down and you're sitting on his butt in your underwear, expertly working the knots out of his shoulders, pulling soft groans from his chest with every firm touch. it almost always ends with him rolling onto his back so you can give him a classic happy ending. he loves giving you massages too — his fingers incapable of staying where they're supposed to, ending up between your thighs almost every time.

n (no) ♡ turn-offs and no-gos?

- harry does not enjoy being restrained or tied up, getting quite anxious about his inability to move his hands the one time you tried it, but he's okay if you just hold him down yourself, knowing damn well he can overpower you with minimal effort. he likes to stay in control.

- he struggles with verbal degradation — he hates being mean to you — but he's still more than happy to be a little rough when you want it, pulling your hair and choking you to your heart's content.

o (oral) ♡ giving or receiving?

- he finds himself equally blissed out whether he's giving or receiving: lapping at you for ages and soaking in your sweet whimpers, or burying his fingers in your roots and his cock in your throat. it's a very equal relationship.

p (pace) ♡ hard and fast or slow and sensual?

- sometimes, he likes it slow and steamy, wanting to gently worship you all night, but he knows that you want it hard and fast most of the time. he can go absolutely feral, driven by the sound of skin slapping together and your disjointed whines muffled against the pillows.

q (quickies) ♡ does he like quickies?

- he's never mad about some cheeky car sex when you're on the road — especially with your inability to keep your hands to yourself while he's driving — or the chance to drunkenly fuck you in the bathroom at a party, making you watch yourself fall apart in the mirror, your tits falling out of your top and mascara streaming down your face.

r (risk) ♡ is he down to experiment?

- harry may have calmed down with age, but he's still a bit of an adrenaline junkie at heart. he'll try anything once, and anywhere once.

s (stamina) ♡ how long does he last?

- he can go for a while, usually just for one long round but sometimes two if his body can handle it. he loves foreplay and riling you up, so it's rarely quick.

t (toys) ♡ does he have/use toys?

- using your toys together is always fun. he loves pressing your air pulse vibrator against your clit while he fucks you, having to keep his mouth on yours the whole time to stifle the way it makes you scream. he's also slowly working up the courage to present you with a modest strap-on to fuck him with.

u (unfairness) ♡ is he a tease?

- he's infuriating, messing with you around friends: his touch lingering just a bit too long, far-from-innocent whispers in your ear, a borderline evil glint in his eye when he gets you all fidgety — all to get you home and still take ages to give you what you want, the building tension making you crazy.

v (volume) ♡ how loud is he in bed?

- he can be pretty loud, especially if he's not sober. sometimes he talks, showering you in filthy praise when he's feeling bold; other times his moans speak for themselves, each pretty sound from his lips worth a thousand words.

w (wild card) ♡ ?!

- he gets surprisingly turned on just watching you work sometimes. you have a remote job, and there's something about seeing you so focused, hearing your professional voice come out when you're on business calls, that gets him going. when you're clearly stressed, he loves dropping to his knees under your desk to help you unwind.

x (x-ray) ♡ what’s he packin’?

- even his friends have confirmed it: bog's got a hog. he's slightly above average in length, but really, it's how thick he is that's impressive. he's the best stretch you've ever felt.

y (yearning) ♡ how high is his sex drive?

- he goes through waves, just like you. sometimes you'll have phases where you only have sex a few times a month, when one or both of you have been feeling especially burnt out, but then some periods when you'll have sex nearly every day, when you're both feeling particularly good and can't keep your hands off each other.

z (zzz) ♡ how fast does he fall asleep after sex?

- not too fast. he always cleans up in the bedroom while you go to the bathroom, and then pulls you close to his chest after forcing you to drink some water, stroking your hair gently and kissing your shoulder as he mumbles quietly about how soft you are or yaps about something random until you fall asleep on him and he passes out mid-sentence.

—

taglist ♡

@themdera @pookietv @smzyyx @insomniac4000 @whereforarthur @w2soneshots @authortelevision @m3vl0vesu @elhotchner @idolofthewestcoast @a3naa @darleneslane @happyclifford @whisperturnedecho @formulaal @bethorwhateverr @maplesnowflake @shootingstarsinthesky @clarkeysbedchem @clarkeyscvntymullet @xoxoxyra @livvymd @footballfangirly @cheekytv

[clarkeysbedchem]

this is a cool little thing btw !! thanks lovers 🫶🏻 and thank you g and mitchie for making it happen

THANK YOU FOR 100 FOLLOWERS 💚💚💚

(EVEN THOUGH A QUARTER OF YOU ARE ACTUALLY PART OF THE SERVER. WE'RE STILL COUNTING IT)

so grateful for our little community of horndogs 🙏🏻

💗 g + mitchie

[clarkeysbedchem]

“i wouldn’t do that” “i wouldn’t say that” “i wouldn’t wear that” “i wouldn’t kiss them” too bad you pedantic dorks, you’re not the one in control here.

[clarkeysbedchem]

dni and rules

navigation

disclaimer.

✮⋆˙ i have not, and will not, ever use AI in any of my writing. I do not support the use of AI in any way shape or form.

do not interact.

✮⋆˙ racist and/or xenophobic, sexist/misogynistic, homophobic, transphobic, or just generally disrespectful to anyone i write about purely based on their skin color, ethnicity, sexuality, or gender.

rules.

✮⋆˙ write fluff, nsfw, and angst

✮⋆˙ some of my works may be 18+, so please be aware of that. you are responsible for your own media intake.

✮⋆˙ only writes ‘x reader’

✮⋆˙ i write for female readers

✮⋆˙ i will not repeat plotlines i have already used. if i have already done it for one person, i will not being doing it again for a different person.

✮⋆˙ you'll find smaus, one-shots, multi-chapters & series here

✮⋆˙ accepts requests <3

✮⋆˙ if you send a request please don’t be vague. i will not write the request unless it has somewhat of a clear plot sending in “character x reader smut” or “can you write more of character” doesn’t really give any inspiration and i will just delete the request. try and include any specific tropes, scenarios or kinks <33

who i write for.

ukyt !

✮⋆˙ alfie buttle (AB)

✮⋆˙ arthur frederick (arthurtv)

✮⋆˙ arthur hill

✮⋆˙ becky james (bambinobecky)

✮⋆˙ chris dixon (chrisMD)

✮⋆˙ george clarke

✮⋆˙ harry lewis (w2s)

✮⋆˙ will lenney (willne)

f1 !

✮⋆˙ alex albon

✮⋆˙ arthur leclerc

✮⋆˙ charles leclerc

✮⋆˙ franco colapinto

✮⋆˙ george russell

✮⋆˙ lando norris

✮⋆˙ oscar piastri

✮⋆˙ oliver bearman

9-1-1 !

✮⋆˙ eddie diaz

✮⋆˙ evan buckley

✮⋆˙ maddie buckley

[clarkeysbedchem]

updated taglist form <33

[clarkeysbedchem]

heyyyy!! idk if you’ve done this yet w another character, but i was thinking maybe some buck x reader where buck is sick and tries to put on a brave face but reader takes care of him and it’s fluffy and sweet. thank youuuu!! <3

take care of you

evan buckley x fem reader

summary: buck is sick and you take care of him

a/n: this is my first 911 fic, so i do hope i’ve done it justice and i hope you enjoy it

masterlist | main masterlist

Buck has never been great at admitting when he’s was less than okay.

He has always been the type to brush off injuries, ignore fevers, and claim that he was fine. You always knew better.

So, when he walked into the firehouse with his shoulders hunched over and movements sluggish, like every step was an effort. You knew instantly that something was wrong. He clung to his hoodie pulling tight around him like a shield hiding the shivers racking through his body.

He nodded faintly at you as he walked in, his eyes rimmed with red, and skin void of colour beneath an unnatural flush.

You stood by your locker eyeing him suspicious. His hair was tousled like he hadn’t attempted to do it for the day, and the sleeves of his hoodie were pulled low over his hands. There was no bounding entrance, no joke cracked, no clapping Chim on the back. Just a quiet nod as he beelined for his locker.

“Hey, Buck,” you greeted softly, eyes lingering on the slight wobble in his step.

“Morning,” he mumbles, voice hoarse and strained.

You arched a brow, watching him a moment longer. You saw it. The slight sway as he tied his boots, the subtle wince as he straightens up. You decided it was your job to keep an eye on him from that moment.

The morning passed by in a blur of routine: gear checks, equipment cleaning, reports to file. Buck moved through it all like a shadow. He hadn’t made one snarky comment, there was no bite back at Chim’s heckling, and no laughter when Eddie made a horrific joke.

The only time you saw a shift in his frown was when he’d because he caught you watching him, but it never reached his eyes.

You had caught him leaning against the engine more than once, eyes fluttering shut for just a second too long. When Eddie asked him to help hoist a ladder, Buck grunted something and complied, but you noticed how he winced, how his legs shook when he thought no one was looking.

He was trying so hard to pretend he was fine.

And maybe no one else seemed to notice that he wasn’t except you.

Then a call came in just after noon.

A non-emergency call thank God. It was a sweet elderly woman down in the suburbs whose cat had climbed onto the roof and decided that is where it would remain. No danger. Just a chance to help, reassure, and get some fresh air.

You arrived on scene with Hen and Eddie, and while they dealt with the ladder setup and calming the frantic homeowner, you scanned the street for Buck.

You found him beside the truck, half hidden in its shade. He was gripping the side of the engine with whitening knuckles, and his other hand pressed flat against his lower back like he was steadying himself. Sweat beaded on his forehead, soaking into the neck of his turnout gear, and when his eyes closed, he swayed slightly.

“Buck,” you said hesitantly as you approached, rummaging in your pocket. He startled slightly, eyes glassy.

“I’m good,” he rasped, “I just need a sec.”

“Uh-huh.” You held out a bottle of water and a protein bar, “Drink. Eat. Then sit.”

He looked at you like you were offering him gold, not snacks, “You’re a lifesaver,” he mumbled, uncapping the bottle with trembling fingers.

“Just don’t make me carry you back to the truck,” you teased gently.

He laughed for the first time all day, “Could be fun.”

You rolled your eyes, but your hand lingered on his.

The rest of the day went pretty uneventful. The team had returned back to the station, and went into their post-call clean-up, before settling into the calm between calls.

You had spent most of your down time pretending not to look at Buck, and failing miserably. He tried to carry on like usual, but he was fading fast. After lunch, you noticed he hadn’t touched his food, which was very unlike him considering his love for Bobby’s cooking, and instead just pushed it around with a fork before disappearing onto the sofa.

You waited for the rest of the crew to disappear back downstairs before joining him.

Sure enough, you found him on the sofa curled tightly under one of the many blankets you had left in the firehouse. His hoodie had scrunched around his neck, his boots were still on, and one of his arms draped over his eyes. His breathing was slow, congested, and soft.

You smiled crouching beside him and gently shaking his arm, “Hey, Buck,” you said softly.

He groaned and blinked up at you, “What time is it?”

“Time for you to go home.”

“I’m fine,” he murmured, already trying to sit up.

You stood quickly, hands out ready to steady him. He got to his feet and immediately swayed, blinking rapidly like the room was spinning.

“Okay,” he mumbled, grabbing onto your out stretched hands, “Maybe not one hundred percent.”

“That’s what I thought.” You nodded, snaking an arm around his waist letting him lean against you as you guided him downstairs and to the lockers.

You flagged Bobby with a small smile, “I’m gonna take Buck home,” you informed simply, trying to ignore the knowing smirk that played on your Captains face.

“Good. And maybe knock some sense into him while you’re at it.”

“Try not to burn the place down while we’re gone.”

Eddie followed behind a sluggish Buck with a raised eyebrow, “Wait, you’re taking him home?”

Hen looked between the two of you, then back at Chimney, “They’re seriously still not together?”

“I’m starting to think they’re doing it just to mess with us,” Chimney muttered.

“Dumbasses,” Hen sighed fondly.

You pretend not to hear them as a soft smile played on your lips, and you guided Buck to your car.

The warmth of Buck’s loft wrapped around you the moment you stepped through the door, the dim light a stark contrast from the station and the faint scent of cedar wood lingered through the air. You guided Buck up to his room pushing him to sit on the bed despite his half-hearted grumbles of protest.

You stood between his legs tapping his biceps gently, he lifted them with a wince letting you pull the sweat soaked hoodie off his warm body. The tips of your fingers skimming over his skin making his shiver instinctively.

“You do know I’m not dying, right?” He mumbled sleepily, rubbing his sore eyes before peering up at you.

“Didn’t say you were,” you said, turning away from him to toss the hoodie in the hamper, “But you’re definitely out of the count tomorrow.”

He collapsed back onto bed with a dramatic sigh, “You’re bossy when you’re concerned.”

You pulled the duvet over him, then leaned down, “You like it.”

His smile was small, sleepy, “A little.”

You kissed his temple, soft enough that it barely even registered in the moment, and padded downstairs to the kitchen.

When you were younger, your mother had always made the same soup when you were sick. Sometimes you wished you’d get sick just to have some, and you carried on that tradition when you got older. Garlic, ginger, rice, chicken and carrots. A dish that was comforting, nostalgic, and medicinal all in one.

The loft filled with the gentle bubbling of the pot and the scent of broth and herbs. You hummed quietly as you worked, feeling oddly at home in the situation. When the soup was ready, you ladled a generous portion into a bowl, and you poured the rest into a container labelling it with the date and slid it into his fridge with a note stuck to the lid: reheat this. Or I will come do it for you.

You walked up the stairs carefully, the warmth of the bowl warming your hands and when you spotted Buck it warmed your heart all the same. You found him exactly where you left him, curled on his side, chest rising and falling steadily.

You placed the soup on the nightstand, cautious not to wake him, then leaned over, brushing a few curls back from his forehead.

His skin was still burning against your touch.

You bent down and pressed a soft kiss to his damp temple, “Goodnight, Buck.”

You turned to go but was stopped by the feeling of fingers wrapping weakly around your wrist.

“Can you stay?” he mumbled, barely audible, “Just for a little longer.”

You looked at him, at his flushed cheeks and pleading eyes, and your heart splintered a little.

“Yeah,” you whispered, “Of course.”

You toed off your shoes, and shimmied out of your jeans, before climbing into the bed beside him. He immediately shifted closer, curling into your side, his nose tucked against your shoulder, breath warm against your collarbone.

Your fingers found the curls at the crown of his head twirling them softly, feeling him relax further into you with every minute.

“Good night, Buck.” you whispered again, letting your own eyes drift shut.

taglist: @sdmnpact @triplefrontierbabe

[clarkeysbedchem]

lemme know if you wanna be on my 9-1-1 taglist 🫶🏻🫶🏻

[clarkeysbedchem]

yall wanna send me 911 requests so bad rn

[clarkeysbedchem]

evan buckley ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

angst - 𖤐 | fluff - ꪆৎ | smau - ৎ୭ | suggestive/mature - ʚɞ

main masterlist

stand alones !

ꪆৎ take care of you

ꪆৎ successful schemes