k-k0129

[k-k0129]

between the lines (part two) - george clarke

George Clarke x Reader (AU Series)

summary: It started with rivalry and ended in silence. Now, one season, one team, and one stubborn spark might bring the two hockey players back to where it all went wrong—between the lines.

warnings: mild language, rough play (sporting), tension, sexual references, homesickness, suggestive/smut content

minors do not interact - 18+ (mdni)

word count: 3.8k words

series | main masterlist | part one | part three

Part Two: Training Drills

The alarm pierces the quiet at 6:00 a.m.

Mia doesn’t stir. She groans, burrows deeper under her blanket, and mumbles something about the “injustice of mornings.” Lavender still lingers in the room.

I dress quietly—tights, a thin long-sleeve, trainers—and tie my hair up. My hip aches faintly from last night, but the run will loosen it.

Campus is hushed when I step outside, the air sharp and clean. I set off slow, breath fogging, shoes tapping rhythm against pavement. Past the library’s shadow, across the cricket green, around the back of the tennis courts. The city feels smaller at this hour—less like it’s swallowing me whole, more like I can breathe inside it.

By the time the sun starts warming the rooftops, I’m flushed and buzzing. I walk the last stretch back, tugging my sleeves down, promising myself a strong tea as a reward.

The dining hall is already awake, trays clattering, the smell of toast and beans thick in the air. I queue, load up toast and a croissant, and head for an empty table.

“Morning, country.”

I don’t even have to look up.

George is at a long table with three of the men’s squad—curly hair, broad shoulders, and one with glasses perched low on his nose. They’re halfway through bacon rolls, laughing at something on a phone.

I hover, tray in hand, debating whether to keep walking.

“Sit,” Curly Hair says, scooting over. “We don’t bite.”

George’s eyes flick over me, lingering for a beat on my flushed cheeks and damp ponytail. “Out for a run?”

I nod, sliding onto the bench. “Helps clear my head.”

“Looks like it’s working,” Glasses says warmly. “Sharp performance yesterday, too. That block on George’s feint? Filthy.”

Heat climbs my neck. “Just doing my job.”

Broad Shoulders grins. “Most rookies don’t hold their ground like that. You’ve got bite.”

I duck my head, tearing into the croissant. Compliments feel good—but strange. I’m used to having to earn them, not having them tossed across the table over tea.

George stirs his drink lazily, eyes still on me. “Told you she could handle it.”

My head lifts. “Handle what?”

He shrugs, casual, but his mouth twitches. “Pressure. Pushback. Me.”

My pulse stutters. Was that teasing? A jab? Or—something else? His tone is flat, but the glint in his eyes makes it impossible to tell.

Curly Hair whistles. “Careful, mate, you’ll scare her off.”

George doesn’t look away. “She doesn’t scare easy.”

I can’t tell if it’s a challenge or a compliment. Maybe both. I break eye contact first, buttering my toast with more focus than necessary.

The tension is broken when a voice cuts in behind me. “Oi, you started without us?”

Angie drops into the seat beside me, Skye right after, balancing a tray stacked with toast soldiers and beans.

“This is dangerous,” Skye laughs, nudging my tray. “Girls’ and boys’ squads fraternising? Someone should report us.”

The table erupts into laughter, the spell broken.

I finally exhale, but the buzz in my chest lingers.

Skye and Angie settle in quickly, trays clattering, the whole table bubbling with overlapping chatter. Training jokes, class horror stories, who owes who a pint from the last social.

I relax into it, biting into my toast, when a hand darts across the table and swipes the little packet of butter I’d been saving.

“Oi!” I protest, half laughing, half scandalised.

George is already peeling it open with exaggerated precision, knife in hand. “Team resource-sharing,” he says smoothly, spreading it thick across his own toast.

“You’re a thief,” I mutter, reaching across to snatch it back, but he leans just out of reach, smug grin intact.

Curly Hair bangs the table. “God help you, mate. Stealing a girl’s butter is braver than going into a two-on-one press.”

“Or dumber,” Angie throws in, grinning at me.

George only shrugs, mouth twitching. “She can take me.”

My stomach flips—too quick, too sharp—and I mask it with an eye roll, tearing into my croissant instead.

The conversation drifts into easy rhythm—Skye groaning about her 9 a.m. economics lecture, Glasses bragging about a late-night takeaway run, Broad Shoulders insisting he’d out-sprinted everyone in training (met with loud disagreement).

I laugh along, warmth settling low in my chest. But then I glance at the time on my phone. 8:35.

“I should go,” I say, standing and gathering my tray. “Got a pile of reading waiting before my seminar.”

“Don’t get lost,” George says, casual but deliberate, eyes catching mine just for a second.

“I downloaded the app,” I fire back, keeping my face neutral.

Angie smirks into her mug, and Curly Hair whistles under his breath.

I sling my tote onto my shoulder, offering the group a small smile. “See you all later.”

The noise of the dining hall swallows me as I leave, but the echo of his grin sticks with me longer than I’d like.

By late afternoon, the pitch is alive again under the floodlights. The girls file out from the changing rooms, chatter carrying on the warm breeze, sticks clacking against the turf as we jog the first lap.

I fall into step beside Angie and Skye, their conversation buzzing around me, but my focus sharpens as soon as George blows the whistle.

“Same drills as yesterday,” he calls, voice carrying easily across the field. “But tighter. Cleaner. Let’s go.”

We move through passing patterns, sprint work, and tackling grids. My body feels sharper today—less weighed down by nerves, more settled into rhythm. Each trap and pass flows easier.

George’s voice cuts across the drills, clipped and precise. “Better. Keep that stick low. Good read, Skye. Nice angle, Angie.” His eyes flick to me once, twice, but he doesn’t single me out the way he did yesterday. If anything, he seems to be watching without comment, arms folded, like he’s waiting.

During a scrimmage, I catch an intercept clean at half-back, pivoting quickly to feed Skye through the middle. The ball slices the defence open, and Angie finishes it with a slap into the net. The girls cheer, sticks thumping, and I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face.

When I glance toward the sideline, George is there, unreadable. He doesn’t clap. Doesn’t call my name. Just gives the smallest nod before barking, “Reset. Run it again.”

I don’t know if it’s approval or another test. But the rush in my chest says it doesn’t matter—I’ll take it.

Training winds down with the usual sprint sets, lungs burning and legs heavy. We collapse into a circle on the turf, sticks balanced across our knees, faces flushed red under the floodlights.

George paces slowly in front of us, whistle spinning on his finger. “Alright, listen up.”

The chatter dies instantly.

“First game is next weekend. Selection’s not final—nothing’s ever final—but I’ve put together the starting list and subs for now.” He pulls a folded sheet from his pocket, scanning it like he hasn’t already memorised every name.

“Keeper: Charlotte.” Our goalie fist-pumps the air, and a ripple of applause goes around the group.

“Defence: Skye, Lucy, and Jess.” The three exchange grins, nudging shoulders.

“Midfield: Angie, Tash, and…” He pauses for a beat that makes my pulse hammer, “…you.” His eyes flick to me briefly, then back to the page.

My chest lurches. Me. Named.

“And up front: Liv, Hannah, and Molly. Subs: Rach, Em, and Kate.”

He folds the sheet away, gaze sweeping over us. “That’s the line-up for now. If you’re not listed, don’t sulk—fight for it. Training’s your chance to show me why I should change it.”

A few groans mix with claps and cheers, the circle buzzing. I sit still, trying not to let the grin burst out of me.

George’s eyes catch mine again, just for a second, and there’s something sharper there than the smirk he usually wears. Not approval exactly—more like a challenge.

“Right,” he says, breaking it. “Stretch, shower, and rest up. Next week, it gets real.”

The whistle lands around his neck with a snap, and just like that, we’re dismissed.

But my pulse is still racing. Named midfield. Centre-half. My spot.

And I swear, even if he’ll never admit it, George knows I’ve earned it.

The change rooms are buzzing, steam rising from showers, lockers slamming, and the sharp smell of deodorant mixing with shampoo. I tug off my shin pads, still glowing from hearing my name in the line-up, when Skye plops down beside me, towel wrapped around her waist.

“So…” she drawls, grinning at Angie. “O-Week. Party at Jake’s flat tonight. You in?”

Angie groans. “We shouldn’t. First game’s in a week, and George’ll have us running suicides if we show up hungover.”

“That’s future-us’ problem,” another girl laughs, pulling a hoodie over her head. “Besides, O-Week only happens once. Can’t exactly miss the best house party of the year.”

There’s a chorus of agreement, a few hesitant shrugs, then Angie sighs in defeat. “Fine. But we’re not telling coach.”

I bite back a smile. The nerves of earlier are gone, replaced with something fizzier—anticipation.

Back in my room, Mia’s standing in front of the mirror, eyeliner halfway done, hair curled into messy waves. Sequined top, black skirt, and boots that could definitely kill a man.

“You’re going to Jake’s party too?” I blurt, dropping my kit bag.

She smirks. “Obviously. Whole psych cohort’s going. You?”

“Yeah. Angie’s dragging half the squad. She’s hosting pres in her dorm first—you should come.”

Her eyes light up. “You’re telling me I get to meet the hockey girls and not drink Aldi vodka alone in someone’s kitchen? Sold.”

I laugh, tugging open my wardrobe. Jeans, a fitted black top, gold hoops again. Something simple, but not invisible. Mia whistles low.

“Country girl cleans up nice.”

I roll my eyes, but the heat creeping up my neck gives me away.

Half an hour later, we’re weaving through the corridors of Angie’s dorm, music already thumping faintly behind a door. When it swings open, the air inside is warm and sticky with laughter. Bottles on the desk, fairy lights strung over the walls, a crowd of girls perched cross-legged on the bed.

“Oi, she made it!” Angie shouts, throwing an arm around me before I can step in properly. “And you brought your roomie—legend.”

Mia grins, sliding into the chaos like she was always part of it.

I let myself breathe it in—the glow of lights, the fizz of drinks being poured, the hum of voices rising together. For the first time, campus feels less like a maze and more like a map I’m starting to understand.

Angie’s dorm is loud in that perfect pre-party way — music half too loud for the speakers, bottles clinking, everyone sitting cross-legged on mismatched bedding. Fairy lights flicker across flushed cheeks and sequins.

Angie thrusts a plastic cup into my hand the second I sit down. “Hydration, obviously,” she winks.

“Obviously,” I grin, taking a sip.

The chatter is rapid-fire. Who’s got the worst lecturer so far. Who hooked up with who at last year’s hockey ball. Rumours about which rival uni girls are secretly training under fake names.

“You’re telling me she changed her surname just to transfer?” Skye says, wide-eyed.

Angie nods furiously. “Swear on my mum’s life. Saw her on Instagram before she deleted it.”

The room bursts into cackles. I can’t stop laughing, my face warm from both the drink and the ridiculous stories.

Mia’s perched on the arm of the sofa, hair catching in the fairy lights, her laugh smooth and easy. I catch her and Skye leaning close over a phone, shoulders brushing, whispering about something that sets them both off giggling.

“Careful,” Angie nudges me with a grin. “Your roommate’s stealing one of ours.”

I laugh into my drink. “She’s harmless. Mostly.”

Mia glances up then, eyes sparkling when she catches me watching, before she tips her head back toward Skye, who’s still whispering something outrageous in her ear.

The music shifts, louder now, and someone jumps up to dance in the tiny space between beds. Angie drags me up too, spinning me clumsily until I’m dizzy with laughter. For a moment, the nerves of the week fall away. It’s just us, girls in trainers and glitter, cups raised, gossip sharp and sweet in the air.

Tonight, it feels like I belong.

The music dips between songs, the chatter swelling to fill the gap. Angie plops down beside me again, refilling her cup with a splash that nearly hits the duvet.

“So…” Skye drawls, her grin wicked. “What do we think of Coach George?”

There’s a chorus of groans and squeals.

“Fit,” one girl admits immediately.

“Too fit,” another groans. “It’s a health hazard.”

Angie rolls her eyes. “Dangerous, more like. Boys’ squad golden boy. Uni practically worships him.”

I sip my drink, trying to look nonchalant. “Golden boy seems… intense.”

“That’s putting it politely,” Skye smirks. “He’s obsessed with winning. If he wasn't here to study as well, he would just live at the hockey pitch."

“Yeah, but he’s sworn off dating,” another pipes up, like she’s delivering gossip hot from the source. “Saw him at a bar last term — some girl was literally throwing herself at him, and he just walked away.”

“Sworn off dating?” I repeat, raising a brow.

Angie leans closer, eyes glinting. “Mm-hm. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have favourites.” Her look lands squarely on me.

Heat creeps up my neck. “What?”

“Oh, come on,” she laughs, nudging my shoulder. “You think we didn’t notice? The way he’s on your case every five seconds? Classic George. That’s how he shows it when he’s impressed.”

I shake my head, biting back a smile. “He was criticising me.”

“Exactly,” Skye says, smirking. “That’s affection in George-speak.”

The room bursts into laughter, and I hide my face in my cup, cheeks hot.

Somewhere between the teasing and the music thumping back to life, I realise my chest feels lighter. Maybe it’s the drinks, maybe it’s Angie’s grin, maybe it’s the fact that—for the first time—the girls’ banter feels like I’m part of it, not just listening in.

By the time we tumble out of Angie’s dorm, the night air is cool against flushed skin. Music and laughter spill down the stairwell behind us, our little squad weaving across campus in a noisy pack.

Jake’s flat isn’t far, just off the main strip. You can hear it before you see it—bass thumping through the pavement, voices rising, the occasional whoop from someone leaning out a window.

When we turn the corner, the house is already heaving. People spilling onto the front lawn with drinks in hand, fairy lights strung across the fence, the door wide open like a mouth swallowing everyone whole.

“This is madness,” Skye mutters, eyes bright, clearly thrilled.

“Standard O-Week,” Angie grins, tugging us forward. “Welcome to the jungle.”

Inside, the place is a crush of bodies. Warm beer, cheap perfume, and sweat hang in the air. Kitchen counters are lined with bottles, half-finished drinks abandoned on every surface. A makeshift DJ is set up in the lounge, the floor bouncing under the weight of dancers.

Mia loops her arm through mine. “This is insane,” she shouts over the music, laughing. She doesn’t let go, dragging me deeper into the chaos until we find a pocket of space near the kitchen.

Skye’s already talking to someone she knows from class, Angie’s filling cups at the sink, and I take a moment to breathe it in—too loud, too crowded, but electric in a way that prickles under my skin.

I lean against the counter, cup in hand, chatting with a couple of second-years about lectures. It feels good — normal, almost. Like I’ve been here longer than two days.

Someone shouts “down it!” from across the room, a cheer rising as two guys race through pints. Angie rolls her eyes. “Boys,” she mutters, but she’s smiling.

I laugh, taking another sip, and let myself relax into the chaos. The music is pounding, bodies weaving around each other, heat sticking clothes to skin.

Then a ripple moves through the crowd near the back door, a space opening as the men’s squad pushes in — loud, tall, impossible to miss in their hoodies and team jackets.

“Oi, oi!” Curly Hair bellows when he spots us. “Girls! What are you doing here?”

He sounds half shocked, half like a big brother catching his little sister sneaking out.

Broad Shoulders frowns, shaking his head. “This isn’t your scene. Too messy. You should’ve stayed in.”

Skye snorts, hands on her hips. “We’re not made of glass.”

“Still,” Glasses chimes in, more serious. “Crowds like this get rowdy. Keep your drinks in your hands. Don’t let anyone—”

“Relax,” Angie interrupts, rolling her eyes. “We can handle ourselves.”

That’s when George appears at the back of the group, leaning against the doorframe with that same insufferable calm. His eyes skim the room, landing briefly on me.

“Angie’s right,” he says, voice low but carrying. “They’re hockey girls. They’ll be fine.”

The boys grumble but let it drop, though not without a few more protective side-eyes.

I sip my drink, pulse kicking harder than the bass in the speakers. Of course he’d be here. Of course he’d notice.

The music swells, the bass rattling through the floorboards. The boys don’t leave straight away — they linger, half-guarding, half-joining, their tall frames like a wall behind us. The chatter turns into jokes, challenges, teasing about who’s faster, who’s stronger.

I laugh along, but every time my eyes catch George’s, it’s like the noise dips. He doesn’t say much, doesn’t even join the banter, but I can feel him watching — just enough to make my chest tight.

I’m mid-sentence with Mia when it happens.

Some guy I don’t recognise pushes past with a half-empty can, already sloshing. His elbow clips mine, and cold liquid splashes straight down my front, soaking into my sweater.

“Oi, watch it!” Angie snaps, but the guy’s already swallowed by the crowd.

“Shit,” I mutter, staring at the spreading stain. Sticky, cold, clinging. “Brilliant.”

Before I can grab napkins or even move, George is there, hand closing gently around my wrist. “Come on.”

“I can—” I start, but he’s already guiding me through the crush of bodies, his grip firm, cutting through the crowd like it’s nothing.

The bathroom door clicks shut behind us, muffling the music. The sudden quiet feels deafening.

George lets go of my wrist and grabs paper towels, running one quickly under the tap before handing it to me. “Here. Before it sets.”

I dab at the fabric awkwardly, cheeks burning. His reflection in the mirror is steady, arms folded, leaning against the sink like he’s got all the time in the world.

“Classic O-Week,” he says finally, voice low. “Someone always ends up covered in beer.”

I glance up at him in the mirror. “Lucky me.”

Something flickers across his face — not a smirk this time, something softer. “Could’ve been worse.”

The silence between us thickens, louder than the bass outside. His eyes catch mine again, steady, unreadable, and for a second I can’t tell if he’s still my coach or just a boy in a bathroom at a party, standing too close.

The damp patch clings cold and sticky against my chest, no matter how much I dab at it. I groan, tugging the fabric away from my skin.

“This isn’t working,” I mutter. My fingers hesitate at the hem of my top — then I pull it over my head in one swift movement, leaving me in nothing but a lacy bra I definitely hadn’t planned on anyone seeing.

The top lands in the sink with a wet slap. I twist the tap on, rinsing it under the stream.

Behind me, George goes still. Leaning against the sink a second ago, arms folded, now his posture has shifted — taut, like he’s forcing himself not to look. His jaw flexes once, eyes flicking up to mine in the mirror before darting away.

“You didn’t have to—” His voice is low, almost rough.

“It’s just a top,” I cut him off, twisting water from the fabric. “Better than smelling like beer all night.”

Silence hums thick between us. The bass outside thumps faintly through the walls, but in here, it’s like the world’s holding its breath.

When I glance up in the mirror again, his eyes are on me. Not mocking. Not smirking. Just… watching.

“You’re making this hard,” he says suddenly, voice tight.

I blink, heat climbing my neck. “Making what hard?”

His hand drags down the back of his neck, like he’s trying to work something out of his system. “It’s been two days. Two. And I’m already—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head with a bitter laugh. “I shouldn’t even be saying this.”

I turn, sweater dripping in my hands. “Already what?”

His eyes lock on mine, steady, almost pained. “Fighting the urge to kiss you.”

My breath catches. The words hang between us, heavy, impossible to ignore.

For a long moment, neither of us moves. The only sound is the drip of water into the basin and the muffled shouts of the party outside.

My breath catches, the damp fabric slipping in my hands. I turn, chest tight, and he’s there — closer than I realised, the space between us gone in a heartbeat.

When his mouth finally finds mine, it’s sharp, desperate, like we’ve both been holding it back too long. The kiss deepens quickly, his hand brushing my bare waist, my own fingers curling into his hoodie. My pulse is everywhere — in my lips, in my throat, in the press of his body against mine.

For a moment, it’s just heat and want and the sound of our breaths colliding. His hand slides higher, skimming the curve of my ribs, the lace of my bra, sending sparks through every nerve.

My fingers reach for the bottom of his shirt, as I palm my way upwards feeling his chest. He continues by moving his arms to squeeze my ass and hiking me up to be now sit on the basin.

Then he freezes.

His breath stutters against my mouth. His hand drops back like it’s burned. “Shit,” he whispers, eyes squeezing shut. “I can’t. I’m your coach.”

The words slice the air.

I swallow hard, chest heaving, still clutching his hoodie. The silence is deafening, broken only by the muffled bass outside.

He steps back slowly, dragging a hand down his face like it might erase what just happened. “I shouldn’t have done that.” His voice is hoarse, raw.

I stand there in the too-bright bathroom, top dripping in the sink, lips still tingling, and wonder how I’m supposed to walk back into that party like nothing just happened.

[k-k0129]

CHAPTERS OF US - arthur frederick

THE BOOKSTORE :

It had been raining all afternoon, soft and rhythmic, the kind that seemed to quiet the whole city into stillness. You’d ducked into the bookstore partly for shelter, partly because the smell of old pages and quiet corners was better than whatever work you had planned to do. Your fingers skimmed along a shelf, looking for something that felt right.

You weren’t expecting company, but the second you turned the corner into the next aisle, you stopped short, nearly colliding into someone.

“Shit, I'm so sorry, are you OK?” came the voice before anything else, warm - a little startled, but still amused.

You looked up and caught him: tall, curly-haired, wearing a navy jumper and the kind of slightly sleepy expression that meant he’d probably lost track of time in the shop. He was adorable, and one of the most handsome men you'd ever laid your eyes on - easily towering over you at 5'10. He had a copy of a marine encyclopaedia tucked under one arm and the faintest dimple in his left cheek.

Your eyes met for a second too long.

“No harm done,” you said, offering a polite smile as you stepped back.

“Do you always approach people like that? Bear in mind this is my first impression of you.” he teased.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Only when they’re standing between me and my next book, however, right now I can't find anything decent to read.”

He followed your gaze and nodded toward the book on the shelf. “Rebecca's a good book. Daphne du Maurier - it really opened my eyes, you should read it!”

“And you’ve got an encyclopaedia of marine life,” you countered, tilting your head. “You a biologist?”

“No, just a lawyer-turned-youtuber with strange passions,” he said with a shrug. “Interested?”

You shook your head, ”History and Literature were always my strong suits - I enjoyed the free reign."

He smiled then, a genuine one, soft, but bright enough to stay with you. “Arthur,” he said, offering his hand.

You gave him your name, took his hand for a brief second - it was warm, grounding.

“Well,” he said, stepping aside, “I’ll let you get back to it."

“Thanks,” you said, though you lingered a moment longer before walking away.

Neither of you asked for numbers, no flirting past that moment. But as you turned to leave and the bell over the door chimed, you caught him glancing up from his book, like he was trying to remember the shape of your smile.

THE PARTY :

Chris, Arthur Hill and George’s flat was loud in that cosy, chaotic way they always managed. There was too many people, music spilling out of old speakers, and the scent of takeaway and cheap wine in the air.

You hadn’t planned to stay long, but then, from across the room, you saw Arthur.

He was leaning against the kitchen doorway, beer in hand, in conversation with someone you couldn’t see. He was wearing a jacket this time, charcoal grey over a white t-shirt, curls messier and mullet longer than you remembered. When his eyes landed on you, he did a double take, his expression flickering from surprise to something softer and that same bloody dimple.

“Well, well,” he said, pushing off the wall and weaving through the crowd toward you. “Fancy seeing you here.”

You smiled, raising your drink in mock salute.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again,” he said with a grin.

“I didn’t think you remembered me.”

He gave you a look like that was the most stupid thing he’d heard all night. “Hard to forget someone who nearly ran into me in a Waterstones.”

“Fair enough,” you laughed.

“How do you know George?” he asked, stepping a little closer, the music made it easier to justify the space between you.

“Mutual friends, we went to uni together for about ten minutes before I dropped my major and switched to lit.”

He raised a brow, interested. “Ah, that explains the book shop.”

“And the overuse of grammar in texts,” you added.

He grinned again. “I should get your number, then. For, you know, literary debates.”

“Oh, definitely, and if I ever get into legal trouble, you'll be only a phone call away."

You reached for your phone and handed it to him. He typed his name in (Arthur 😊) and hesitated for a second before handing it back.

And just like that, the story shifted.

THE FIRST DATE :

He picked you up on a Friday night, wearing a button-down that made him look handsome and charming. The bar he chose was tucked between two shops, dimly lit, the kind of place with jazz humming softly under the clink of glasses.

“I’ve been wanting to try this place for ages,” he said, as he pulled your chair out. “Figured if the food’s bad, at least the company’s good.”

You smirked. “Confident.”

He held up his bottle in a toast. “Optimistic.”

You talked for hours - about books, music, the worst dates you'd ever had, your dream cities, and why you both moved to London. At one point, he leaned forward and asked, “What’s something you’ve never told anyone on a first date?”

You thought about it. Then said quietly, “I write, poems, mostly. I'd love to be an author one day.”

He didn’t laugh, didn’t tease. Just smiled - in a way that made you feel warm and sure. “I’d love to read one someday.”

After dinner, he walked you home, your fingers brushing now and then until he laced them together.

At your building, he stopped. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice low, careful. You nodded, heart racing.

The kiss was soft, slow. When he pulled back, he whispered, “Told you I was optimistic.”

THE SIX MONTHS :

Arthur was pacing in front of the oven, a dish towel slung over his shoulder like it meant something. You leaned against the counter, sipping wine and trying not to laugh as he peered into the pot for the third time in two minutes.

“I feel like I should be worried,” you teased.

“You should be,” he muttered. “This was supposed to be ready twenty minutes ago, and I think I burnt the garlic bread.”

You crossed the room and bumped his hip lightly with yours. “You’re adorable when you’re stressed.”

“I’m trying to be romantic,” he said, looking genuinely flustered. “You deserve candles and perfect pasta and a playlist that doesn’t shuffle wrong.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, on your tiptoes, resting your cheek between his shoulder blades. “I already have everything I wanted. You, me, our song playing quietly, something probably edible on the stove.”

He exhaled, turning in your arms. “You’re very forgiving.”

The pasta turned out slightly overcooked but warm and comforting, like everything else he gave you. He lit two crooked candles anyway, and when you teased him about the uneven wax drips, he grinned and said, “It’s called charm.”

Later, after the plates were stacked haphazardly on the counter and you’d changed into his oversized jumper, you sat curled up on the couch together, legs tangled.

“You know,” he said quietly, tracing circles against your knee, “this is the longest I’ve ever been with someone and not felt the need to run.”

You turned your face toward him. “Have you been tempted?”

“No,” he said without hesitation. “That’s the thing. I feel like I could build a life with you.”

You swallowed hard, heart fluttering like he’d handed you something too delicate to hold. “I feel that too,” you said.

THE ARGUMENT :

It was small. At first. He forgot to text you back one evening, plans left in limbo, a dinner reservation gone cold, your new dress, wrinkled from waiting on the couch too long.

You told yourself not to be upset. But when he showed up at your door with breathless apologies and no real reason, you couldn’t help it. “I just waited, Arthur, for hours. I was so fucking excited, I wait one hour, two hours, and you never showed up.”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry-”

“But you could’ve said something. Anything, you always do, so tell me, what changed tonight?”

He paused, rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, guiltily. “I lost track of time, today was a mess. I just shut down a bit.”

You stood still, arms folded. “If you’re going to shut me out, I need to know. I can’t guess when it’s me, or when it’s everything else.”

“I’m not shutting you out,” he said, too fast, too rehearsed. “I just needed space.”

“That’s fine, but space doesn’t mean disappearing. All I want is for you to communicate - I mean is this right for us to be going out if you can't open up?”

The silence after that wasn’t cruel, just heavy.

He left that night with a quiet, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” and a hesitant brush of your hand.

THE MORNING AFTER :

It rained the next morning, a gentle, persistent drizzle that made the morning feel softer, but bleak somehow.

You heard the knock around 9 am.

When you opened the door, Arthur stood there holding two coffees and a paper bag of pastries, curls damp from the walk. “I didn’t want to text,” he said quietly. “Didn’t feel like enough.”

You stepped aside without saying anything. He set the coffees down, turned to you.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “You were right, I got overwhelmed and instead of saying that, I disappeared. I won’t do that again, promise.”

You nodded, biting your lip. “I don’t need you to be perfect, just present - here, with me.”

He stepped closer, gently brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “I am. I want to be with you, always.”

You melted into him then, burying your face in his jumper, and he held you like he never wanted to let go.

You ate the pastries cross-legged on the couch, your head on his shoulder, your fingers tangled.

THE MOVE IN :

It started with a few little things, your draw, a hoodie here, a toothbrush there.

And then one night, over takeaway, Arthur looked up and said, “So, do we keep beating around the bush, or do you just move in already?”

You blinked. “Are you sure? I snore sometimes. And I leave tea mugs everywhere.”

“I'm positive. I want to trip over your shoes every morning and argue over who takes the bin out, as long as it's with you.”

You moved in three weeks later. The first few weeks were bliss and chaos - mismatched furniture, your books invading his shelves, arguing over duvet covers and whether it was socially acceptable to have fairy lights in the living room (yes).

There were nights of falling asleep mid-conversation and mornings of lazy coffee on the balcony, feet in his lap, sun warming your cheek.

One evening, as he watched you reading on the couch in his hoodie, he said softly, “Feels like home now.”

THE PROPOSAL :

It wasn’t a grand gesture, it was late autumn, chilly and crisp, and he took you back to the little bookshop where you first met, two years prior.

He led you to the very same aisle: fiction, alphabetised by author and said, “Do you remember this spot?”

You smiled, heart catching in your throat. “You mean when I nearly knocked you over?”

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a worn copy of Rebecca. Inside was a folded slip of paper and a tiny velvet box tucked between the pages.

You stared, he knelt.

“From the moment we met, every chapter’s been better than the last. And I want the rest of the story to be us - everything life throws at us, even if it devastates us. You're a part of me, and I want that to last forever, will you marry me?”

You didn’t speak right away, just nodded, eyes glassy, before whispering, “Yes, yes. Of course, I love you Arthur Frederick.”

When he slid the ring on your finger, it felt like the final sentence of one chapter, and the first line of the next.

[k-k0129]

more than a woman - arthurtv x reader

summary: arthur sees his childhood friend at a party after several years apart - 700 words

hey y'all im alive btw

i am not very happy with this but after a month of nothing but law i desperately needed to do something creative, so i thought i might as well post it and see if it makes anyone smile :) it is very short n sweet.

this is inspired by the song "more than a woman" by the bee gees, so i have added part of the lyrics at the beginning!

i love and miss you all so much but i am so so so busy, i will post anything i write when i need a break from the work!

hope y'all don't hate it!

Oh, girl, I've known you very well I've seen you growing every day I never really looked before But now you take my breath away

Arthur was your friend first. The two of you had known each other since childhood, running in the same circles and learning how to survive the world. Arthur has always been there, with his soft smile and kind eyes. 

University separated the two of you. Arthur was set on pursuing a degree in law, and you embarked on your own path. 

The lack of his presence was noticeable, but it grew easier to forget as time and distance caused you to drift apart. You were left to figure things out on your own, as he did the same. New friendships were formed, lovers came and went, and hardships were faced head on, but something in his soul yearned for you. Even if he hadn't realized it yet. 

It had been several years since you had seen Arthur when you found yourself at a crowded house party in Jersey. One of your old friends had invited you, and you absolutely should have known Arthur would be there, but the thought never even crossed your mind. The noise of the crowd and the thumping bass were growing incredibly irritating, so you wandered outside into the cool October breeze. As you eased onto the grass, you couldn’t help but notice how bright the stars looked. 

Arthur told his friend he would drop by the party for a little bit, but he was not looking forward to it. There were far too many people, and way too much noise. He attempted to mingle for a while, but it was impossible to have a conversation under the circumstances. He sighed and poured what remained in his cup down the sink, ready to make an Irish exit. 

As he slipped out the front door, he saw a figure on the ground with their back turned to him. Growing curious, he moved sideways in an attempt to get a glimpse of their face. You were too enchanted by the stars to notice him. He recognized you immediately, but it was like he was truly seeing you for the first time. All of the breath was sucked out of his lungs. He was taking in the raw curiosity in your eyes as you studied the night sky, basked in tranquil moonlight, alone, in front of a raging house party. You were the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

“Y/N?” he spoke softly, mesmerized. 

You turned at the sound of his voice; a voice you would recognize in any lifetime, any universe. His hair was tousled, his lips slightly parted, and his kind eyes held a palpable sense of yearning. He looked just the same and he was completely different at the exact same time.

“Arthur?”

-

After that fateful encounter, you reconnected with Arthur. Months of pretending this new found spark didn’t exist went by, before the two of you started acknowledging it.

It started with a date.

Then another.

Arthur declared his love, which you wholeheartedly reciprocated. 

You bought a flat in London, Arthur moved in.

Two years post party encounter, and the spark had turned into a burning flame. 

You had realized that you had never really known true romantic love until Arthur. He went out of his way to make you smile in every moment of every single day. He thought about the future constantly. There was nothing in this world that Arthur wanted more than to spend forever with you. He carried a diamond ring around in his pocket every day for a month, waiting until the moment felt right. 

Just like the first years of your life, Arthur was there for every single milestone of your life after you reconnected. He held your hand through the hardships, and celebrated every bit of joy that life brought as you aged together. You were no longer just the friend that he had known from childhood. You were his whole life, his everything, and he would spend forever loving you.

[k-k0129]

“Why did that kinda… do something to me?” ₊˚⊹♡

words: 2,586 ✦ .ᐟ

♯┆ arthur at the club, submissive arthur frederick

you meet arthur in the club filming a video and he’s dared to go up to you. after you’re rude to him he realises he might actually be kind of into it

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The club was packed, the kind of night where the air was thick with sweat, and the bass felt like it was thudding directly inside my chest. It had been a long week, and I wasn’t in the mood to play nice. My friends had convinced me to come out, but all I wanted was to finish my drink and go home. I didn’t want to make small talk. I didn’t want to deal with more strangers.

So, naturally, that’s exactly what happened.

I noticed him from across the room before he even reached me — Arthur TV. I wasn’t a huge fan, but his face popped up enough in my YouTube feed for me to recognize him. He was walking toward me, camera in hand, his friends trailing behind him like they were all in on some kind of joke. His friends were filming him, and I could already tell this wasn’t going to be fun.

He approached with that easy confidence some guys get when they know people are watching.

“Hey,” he said, standing a little too close. “Mind if I—”

“Yeah, I mind,” I cut him off before he could even finish his sentence, turning to face him with an icy stare. “Whatever you’re doing, I’m not interested.”

He paused, clearly taken aback. “Uh, okay, but I wasn’t—”

I cut him off again. “Let me guess. You’re doing some stupid YouTube challenge where your friends dare you to talk to a random girl? That’s original.”

Arthur’s mouth twitched, like he was trying to decide whether to laugh or back off. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, when you put it like that—”

“No, that’s exactly what it is,” I snapped. “I’m not here to be part of your little video, alright? So go back to your friends and find someone else.”

I could see the wheels turning in his head. He looked over his shoulder at his friends, who were watching from a distance, laughing and pointing at us. Clearly, they thought this was hilarious.

Arthur sighed, and when he turned back to me, he didn’t look so smug anymore. “Look, I get it. This is probably the last thing you want right now, but honestly, it wasn’t supposed to be a prank or anything. They dared me, yeah, but I’m not trying to make fun of you.”

I crossed my arms, narrowing my eyes at him. “So, what, am I supposed to be flattered?”

He shook his head, clearly trying to keep things light. “No, I’m just saying… maybe don’t hate me right off the bat. I didn’t come over here to be annoying.”

“Well, you failed,” I shot back, glaring at him. “You could’ve picked literally anyone else to bother tonight, but you chose me. So congrats.”

Arthur blinked, clearly unsure how to respond to that. “I mean, you looked interesting.”

“Right, because nothing’s more interesting than a girl standing by herself trying to avoid idiots like you,” I said. “Really groundbreaking stuff.”

He smiled a little, like he wasn’t completely put off by my attitude, which was irritating. “Okay, fair enough. I probably deserve that.”

I rolled my eyes and turned back to my drink, hoping he’d get the hint and leave, but he lingered.

“Seriously, I didn’t mean to annoy you,” he said, more quietly this time. “If you want, I’ll walk away. But if you ever get tired of shutting people down, maybe we could just… talk?”

That caught me off guard. I half-expected him to make a joke or brush off my attitude, but he seemed… genuine. Annoyingly so. I glanced over at him, still skeptical. “Talk? About what, exactly? What’s left to say after you’ve made a complete fool of yourself?”

Arthur chuckled, and I could see him relax just a little. “I’m pretty good at making a fool of myself. It’s basically my job. But I don’t mind it so much when someone calls me out. Keeps me honest.”

“Right,” I said, arching an eyebrow. “So this is you being ‘honest,’ is it?”

He shrugged. “As honest as I get when I’ve just been verbally destroyed by someone I’ve known for less than a minute.”

I couldn’t help it — a tiny smirk crept onto my face. “Well, at least you’re self-aware.”

He smiled, and it was annoyingly charming, but I wasn’t about to let him off that easily. “Look, I get that you’re trying to turn this into a moment, but seriously, I’m not in the mood to be part of your content. YouTubers are all the same.”

Arthur nodded, backing off slightly. “Yeah, I get that. I do. You’re not wrong. Most of the time, we are the worst.”

“You said it, not me.”

He laughed then, a real laugh, and for some reason, it wasn’t as irritating as it should have been. He took a step back, holding up his hands in defeat. “Alright, message received. I’ll leave you alone before I push my luck any further. But just for the record,” he said, glancing back toward his camera with a grin, “I think I survived that better than expected.”

“Barely,” I muttered.

With that, he gave a small wave and turned to leave. I watched as he walked back to his friends, who were practically doubled over with laughter. They high-fived him as he rejoined the group, and then, of course, I heard him say it — loud enough for me to catch, like it was meant to be overheard.

“Why did that kinda… do something to me?”

I rolled my eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. Of course, he was into it. Of course, the one guy who wasn’t completely put off by my attitude was the one with a camera pointed in my direction.

Still, there was something oddly satisfying about how he took it all in stride. Most guys would’ve slunk away by now.

As I finished my drink, I felt a weird tug of guilt. I had been harsher than necessary. Maybe I’d been projecting all my frustration from the week onto him. He was just trying to have fun. And, to be fair, he wasn’t the worst guy who’d approached me in here tonight. Far from it.

I sighed, setting my glass down and straightening up. My friends were on the dance floor, too busy to notice me. Without thinking much about it, I turned and made my way toward Arthur and his group.

When I got close, they noticed me, and I could see Arthur glance up. Fuck, those eyes.

“Hey,” I said, feeling slightly awkward now that I had to actually confront him without the defensiveness. “Uh, I just wanted to apologize for being… kind of a bitch back there.”

Arthur blinked, clearly not expecting that. His friends were snickering, but he waved them off. “You don’t need to apologize. You were just being real, and honestly, it’s kind of refreshing.”

I raised an eyebrow, still feeling a little uncertain. “Well, real or not, I didn’t need to be that rude. You were just doing your thing.”

His lips quirked into that easy grin again. “Hey, no harm done. I’m used to worse.”

I smirked at that. “Really? People usually rip into you like that?”

Arthur laughed, shaking his head. “Not like that. That was special.”

I found myself smiling despite myself. “Well, at least I made an impression.”

“Definitely,” he said, and for a moment, the tension between us shifted into something a little less hostile, a little more… intimate?

I paused, feeling like an idiot but pushing forward anyway. “And honestly… I have to admit, you’re kind of hot.”

His eyebrows shot up, clearly surprised, but that grin never faltered. “Didn’t expect that after the way you tore into me. I thought you hated me.”

I rolled my eyes, feeling my cheeks flush a little. “Don’t get too full of yourself. It doesn’t mean I didn’t mean what I said earlier.”

Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. “Fair enough. Can’t say I’m not flattered, though.”

“Well, I did feel kind of bad for ripping you apart for no reason. So, since I probably ruined your night, how about I make it up to you by asking for your number?”

His eyes lit up, clearly surprised but amused. “You’re asking for my number?”

I gave him a look. “Don’t make this weird.”

He laughed, shaking his head, and pulled out his phone. “Alright, alright. I’m not going to argue with you.”

I grabbed his phone, typing my number in quickly before handing it back. “There. No more dares, no more cameras.”

“No promises on the cameras,” he teased. “But I’ll text you.”

I shook my head, smiling a little before turning to leave. “You’d better.”

As I walked away, I could hear his friends cracking up behind me, and part of me wondered if I’d just made his night.

I’d definitely made mine a little more interesting.

_________

It was late, almost too late to be messaging someone, but I didn’t care. The night had left me restless, and as I settled into bed, my phone buzzed beside me. Arthur’s name popped up on the screen, and my stomach did a little flip.

Arthur: “You still up?”

I hesitated for a moment, smirking to myself as I typed back.

You: “Yeah. Why? You miss me already?”

I could almost hear him laugh through the screen as his reply came.

Arthur: “Yeah, actually. Been thinking about you since the club.”

I raised an eyebrow. I hadn’t expected him to be so forward, but I didn’t mind it.

You: “Really? What’s so interesting about a girl who told you to back off?”

There was a pause, like he was considering his words carefully. Then the reply came.

Arthur: “Honestly? Everything. You got to me, and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

I felt a flicker of satisfaction, my curiosity piqued now. I leaned into the conversation, pushing him to see just how far he’d go.

You: “Got to you how? I barely said two words to you.”

Arthur: “Exactly. It wasn’t what you said; it was how you said it. The way you looked at me like I was wasting your time like I didn’t even matter to you. It’s stuck with me all night.”

My breath hitched slightly as I read his response, surprised by how direct he was. He wasn’t playing it cool — he was laying it all out, and something about that vulnerability made my heart race a little.

You: “So you liked that I didn’t care about you? That’s what did it for you?”

His reply came faster this time, like he was waiting for the chance to explain himself.

Arthur: “Yeah. It was the confidence. I don’t know why, but it’s driving me crazy. No one’s ever looked at me like that before.”

I chuckled softly, enjoying the way the conversation was shifting, the honesty in his words.

You: “So what, you’re telling me you liked that I didn’t give a shit?”

Arthur: “More than I want to admit. It messed with my head. I kept thinking when I was back with my friends, ‘Why doesn’t she care? Why isn’t she even a little interested?’ And it made me want to prove myself to you even more.”

I could feel the tension building between us, even through the screen. His words were pulling me in, and I could sense how much he’d been affected by that brief interaction.

You: “Most guys would’ve walked away. Why didn’t you?”

Arthur: “Because you weren’t like anyone else. I could tell you weren’t just playing hard to get — you really weren’t interested, and that made me want to know why. I wanted to make you see me differently.”

I bit my lip, feeling a thrill run through me at how invested he was. I hadn’t realized just how much I’d gotten under his skin, but now that I knew, I wanted to see how far I could push it.

You: “And now you can’t stop thinking about it? About me?”

Arthur: “It’s more than that. I can’t stop thinking about how you didn’t flinch when I tried to talk to you. You didn’t even care that I was there, and it got to me in a way I didn’t expect. Like… it made me feel small, and for some reason, that made me want you more.”

The intensity in his words sent a shiver down my spine. Most guys wouldn’t admit something like that, but Arthur was being raw, almost desperate in his honesty.

You: “You liked that I made you feel small?”

Arthur: “I’m not used to it. Usually, people recognize me or try to impress me, but you didn’t care at all. You just looked at me like I was… nothing.”

My fingers hovered over the keyboard as I processed what he was saying. He wasn’t just playing a game — I had actually affected him, gotten under his skin in a way that left him reeling. I felt a rush of power at the thought.

You: “So you’re telling me you want me because I didn’t want you?”

Arthur: “Exactly. The way you rejected me, the way you didn’t care… it’s like you’ve taken over my head. I can’t stop thinking about how cold you were, how much I wanted to change your mind.”

You: “And now?”

There was a pause, the little typing bubble appearing as he considered his answer. Then:

Arthur: “Now, I can’t stop thinking about how badly I want to make you care. It’s like you’ve got this hold on me, and I don’t know how to shake it. The more distant you were, the more desperate I felt. And now I’m just stuck on it. Stuck on you.”

My breath stopped for a moment at the weight of his confession. He wasn’t just flirting anymore — he was telling me how much control I had over him, how much I’d gotten to him without even trying.

You: “So what, you want me to keep treating you like that? Like you’re not even worth my time?”

Arthur: “Yes. God, yes. I want more of that. I want more of you.”

I let his words sink in. He was being so raw, so desperate for more, and I couldn’t help but lean into it, feeling a strange thrill at how much he wanted me to treat him like that again.

You: “You really are desperate, aren’t you?”

Arthur: “I’ve never felt like this before. It’s like I’m addicted to the way you didn’t give me anything. It’s driving me insane.”

You: “So if I told you to stop texting me right now, you’d just keep wanting me more?”

Arthur: “Yes. I think if you ignored me for weeks, I’d still be sitting here, waiting for you to look at me like you did earlier.”

I could feel the power shift completely now, his words practically begging for more, more of the way I’d made him feel at the club. It was intoxicating, knowing how deeply I’d affected him, how much he craved something most guys would run from.

You: “Good. Because I’m not done making you feel like that yet.”

Arthur: “Please. Don’t stop. I’ll take whatever you want to give me.”

My heart raced at the desperation in his words, the raw need pouring through the screen. He wasn’t holding anything back, and it was clear now — I had him exactly where I wanted him.

[k-k0129]

didn’t want you to move your head | final part

part one | part two

alfie buttle x fem reader

summary: a long day of stolen glances under the monaco sun leads to two (slightly more than) friends fooling around in a hotel room.

warning: mature content (18+ only)

The air surrounding the yacht was thick with salt, sun, and champagne. An electric heat that only Monaco in May could manage to conjour. Luxury yachts bobbed in a line surrounding the marina, and the hum of afterparty music drifting over the city, mixing with the roar of laughter and excitement that was accompanied by the faint scent of expensive cologne.

You were stood with Becky trying so hard to keep up with her conversation, but you couldn’t keep your eyes off him.

Alfie stood with Arthur and Chip talking, laughing, joking – all while looking unfairly good under the Monaco sun. Skin a shade of golden brown, hair tousled from the sea water, and a green vest that accentuated his arms in a way that made your head short-circuit everytime he reached for a drink or leaned to talk to someone.

You weren’t subtle about where your attention lied, and Becky was subtle in calling you out on it. She had been on your case since breakfast, laughing at the way your eyes widened when you first saw him that day.

“Are you dribbling?” she asked now, eyebrows raised over her sunglasses as she handed you another glass of champagne, “I swear to God, y/n, if you bite your lip one more time watching him.”

“I didn’t bite my lip,” you laughed, taking the glass gratefully.

“You did. Right after he leaned over that stupid railing to talk to Will. And again, when he smiled at you.”

You tried to play it off, grinning as you clinked your glass to hers, “So what if I am?”

Becky gasped in mock horror, “You admit it!”

You just downed the champagne in response spinning around to find Will, who had wandered off to find something stronger than Champagne.

Across the deck, Alfie caught your eye again, and you smiled, a warm, heavy smile. He looked away first this time, but not before letting the corner of his mouth tugged up slow and knowingly, like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

And lately, he did.

The past few months had been slow and sweet build up of strings of texts that turned into daily FaceTimes, late-night phone calls while he was back in Harrogate or traveling, random snaps when you were both doing your daily activities. When he was in London, he always found a way to see you - sometimes with the others, usually not. You had fallen asleep beside him on the sofa more times than you could count, your legs tangled, hands against each other skin under the blanket like neither of you wanted to be the first to cross the line.

But the tension never faded, only simmered.

But tonight, it burned.

By the time the sun had dipped low casting a golden stream over the marina, everyone had migrated from yacht to penthouse, and you were tipsy on champagne, sunshine and the way Alfie’s hand kept grazing your waist every time he passed behind you.

And then you found yourself in his arms.

Music pulsing through you, the lights low and hazy as you leaned into him - not drunk, just bold. Your back flush against his chest, his arms snaked lazily around your middle as you stood in a quiet corner of the party, watching the others mess around with sparklers on the balcony.

“You having fun?” he murmured into your ear, his lips brushing your skin as he spoke.

You turned your head slightly, your nose brushing his cheek, “I am now.”

He chuckled, soft and low, the sound rumbling through you, “You’ve been looking at me all day, y’know.”

“Cocky.”

“Just observant.”

His hands squeezed your waist gently, slightly possessive but there, warm and reassuring, you made no attempt to pull away.

Somehow, every moment blurred into the next and the party started to wind down, people peeling off into cabs or rooms, Becky whispering something teasing to you before disappearing with her arm linked in Will’s for support.

Alfie’s hand never left yours.

Before you could even think about what you were doing, you were stumbling into the lift with him, his hotel keycard pressed against the reader, your bodies swaying too close.

Neither of you spoke.

Not until the door to his room clicked shut behind you and the quiet settled around you like a blanket. You leaned against the wall closest to the door, one foot sliding out of your heels, and shot him a look, “Déjà vu, much?”

The crooked grin that you had grown fond of curled across his face, the one that always made you feel like you were standing on the edge of something dangerous.

He stepped closer, slow, deliberate, his voice a little rougher now, “Yeah. Except this time, I’m not stopping.”

Your breath caught in your chest as you looked at him, his eyes burning into you and then his mouth was on yours.

And the kiss was anything but gentle. It was a heated mess of teeth and tongue and months of waiting for someone to make a move. His hands found their way into your hair, tugging slightly as he pushed you further into the wall slipping knee between your thighs.

You gasped into him, clutching at his shoulders, nails dragging down his biceps as he pushed his hips against yours with a groan.

“Fuck,” he whispered, mouth trailing to your jaw teeth grazing against your tender skin, “Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this?”

You could barely muster up any words, your body arching into his, pulse pounding in your ears, “Then shut up and show me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

Clothes hit the floor in a frenzied tangle, first your dress, followed by his shirt, shoes kicked to the side as he lifted you like you weighed nothing, your legs wrapping around his hips as he guided you to the bed. He tasted like champagne as his mouth scattered marks along your skin burning with every touch.

You placed you on the bed gently standing at the edge looking at you like you were something holy. Your skin glowing under the warmth of the hotel lights, your hair haloing out around your head as your eyes locked on his begging him silently.

He dipped down crawling over you and you physically couldn’t get close enough, gasping his name as his hands roamed lower, mouth trailing heat over your chest wrapping around your nipple as he looked up at you through his eyelashes.

Watching as you arched into him needing more, your head rolling back as your eyes fluttered shut. His hands roamed your body traveling between your thigh dipping beneath your underwear sliding his fingers collecting the slick.

A soft whine passed your lips as your hands gripped the curls on his head, “Please.”

His eyes shot open at your plead, pupils blown and he dipped down placing a trail of soft kisses along the band of your underwear before pressing open mouth kisses over the damp patch groaning against you.

“Alfie.”

He smirked against you looping his fingers around the waistband before yanking them off in a swift motion as he dove back in, his tongue gliding between your folds making its way up to your clit sucking just enough to make you squirm under him.

A low chuckle left his throat vibrating against you and he draped his arm over your hips keeping you still as he worked on you. His fingers finding their way into you curling into you just right as he suppled on your clit sending your mind into a frenzy, hands tangling into his hair.

He lifted his head looking at you through fucked out eyes and he lips puffy covered in you, “You like that?” He muttered, pushing himself up moving your head to look at him, “like the way I’m fucking you?”

You whimpered managing to open your eyes to look at him as you nodded, “Doing so good f’me.” He whispered against your lips before pressing his on them letting you taste yourself as his fingers fucked deeper into you.

“i’m so close.” You gasped, hand wrapping around his wrist as his thumb circled against your clit making a wrecked scream like moan pass your lips as you came undone on his fingers and he latched him lips to yours drowning out your noises.

“You’re gonna have to be quiet, princess.”

You nodded hiding in the curve of his neck, the height on your orgasm washing away as your panted lowly pressing soft kisses to his sticky skin.

He held you for a moment letting you come round once again as he pressed a soft kiss on your hairline, “You okay?”

You nodded looking up at him with a tired pout and he brushed away the hair stuck to your forward, “Need you.”

Alfie’s breath got caught in his throat at the sight of you, fucked out and needy and all his.

“Are you sure?” he muttered, desperate but wanting to make sure you were comfortable.

You arched into him, grinding against him a moan spilling from your lips, “Please.”

He moved above you, his arms caging your head as he peppered kisses over your face as he lined himself before sinking into you, a gasp passing your lips as his head fell against your shoulder a string of curses leaving his lips. The movement was slow and deep, both of you moaning like you’d finally reached the eye of the storm. The stretch of him in you burning blissfully as he fucked into you.

Every thrust feeling like he has dreamt about this moment time and time again, just like you had.

The mix of moans and slapping skin echoed through the room as you both relished in the moment. Teeth clashing against each other with no intention of stopping and your nails marking his back with every movement.

And when you came for the second time, it was like everything fell into place with his name falling from your lips, back arched and thighs trembling, he followed seconds later, burying himself deep into, mouth against your shoulder, panting your name,

You laid there after, tangled in the sheets, your skin slick with sweat, your legs still wrapped around his waist.

He didn’t pull away, didn’t even move. Instead, he kissed your forehead, lazy and sweet, pulling you closer as he mumbled, “You’re something else.” A low chuckle echoing from his chest.

You just cuddled closer into his chest with a soft smile, “Could say the same about you.”

taglist: @jamiekluivert @roc-haze @whisperturnedecho @graceln4 @dopeysunflowers @super-gay-for-u @bethorwhateverr @livvymd @lilyyxoii @4ngelrealm @canyouseethesainz @happyclifford @golden-hoax @tatumrileyslover @madforgeorge @wherethezoes-at @themdera @xlovergirlx @smzyyx @bowielovesyou @pretendyoucantseeme @elhotchner @duolingofanaccount @pookietv @ooostarwarsfandom501st @triplefrontierbabe @formulaa-1 @artvscvntymullet

[k-k0129]

didn’t want you to move your head

part two

alfie buttle x fem reader

summary: you accidentaly fall asleep on AB’s shoulder, and somehow end up back in his hotel for the night.

warning: mature content (18+ only)

masterlist | main masterlist

The train rumbled beneath your feet as it chugged its way from Wolverhampton to London, the rhythmic clatter soothing the chaotic happenings surrounding you. George was trying his hardest to recount some half-remembered story from the night, his voice rising over Cal’s dramatic reenactments. Chip was doubled over the table wiping tears from his face as he cackled at the scene, and Will was trying, and failing, to stop Arthur from making countless TikTok’s to promote his music.

You sat tucked quietly into the corner of the group, knees to your chest and the plush fabric of the train seat beneath you as your body dunk deeper into it with every passing minute. Your eyelids fluttered growing heavier, the buzz of alcohol still warming your skin, and the boys’ laughter becoming a comforting background noise.

Next to you, Alfie sat with one knee bouncing slightly as he scrolled through his phone laughing every so often at the rest of the boys. You could feel the warmth of his arm radiating off his skin where it was brushing against yours. But it wasn’t enough to mean anything, not enough to make a fuss about. It was there though, and it was nice.

You shifted a little, curling in on yourself as your head started to tip to the side but you caught it just in time. Alfie glanced over, and you gave him an exhausted, apologetic smile. He just grinned, a lopsided and kind of shy grin before going back to his phone.

The next time your head fell, you didn’t stop it. Letting it land gently on his shoulder, your cheek pressed against the soft fabric of his hoodie.

Alfie froze.

Not dramatically. Just completely, as if someone had pressed pause on him.

His phone slipped down onto the table, screen turning off. His eyes flicked down to you, then to the rest of the boys around him, and back to you.

You were fast asleep.

And Alfie? He didn’t dare move. Scared that a single twitch would wake you, a single breath too loud that it would ruin this moment. His heart was thudded erratically in his chest, but his body stayed painfully still, shoulders stiff, arms clenched in place.

“Oi, look at lover boy over there,” Chip snorted, nodding toward you two with a cheeky grin.

Freezy leaned in with a teasing grin, “He’s gone statue mode. Look at him! Bro’s not even blinking.”

Will, drunk and way too loud, let out a laugh, “You alright there, AB? Gonna survive the next hour, mate?”

Alfie didn’t reply, just shot them a quick glare and shaking his head the tiniest bit, like please not now. But the subtle smile tugging at the corner of his mouth gave everything away.

Will leaned in, grinning, “Fair play, mate. You’ve pulled and you didn’t even have to try.”

“Shut up,” Alfie muttered under his breath, cheeks burning a shade pink – which he blamed on the alcohol - but his voice was quiet, careful not to disturb the girl asleep on his shoulder.

The teasing kept going the entire train ride. Jokes beingthrown around, Chip and George making exaggerated impressions of the position, and bets on how long Alfie was last before his arm fell asleep.

But he didn’t care, not even in the slightest.

You were warm and peaceful, your chest rising and falling with soft breaths. There was something about you that made all the chaos around him feel distant, like it was happening in another room. He didn’t know what this was, he didn’t want to overthink it, but he knew one thing:

If staying still meant keeping you there, curled up beside him, safe and fast asleep, he’d do it for the rest of time.

Even if his shoulder went numb. Even if the boys never let him live it down.

The rattle of the train slowly stirred you awake into somewhere just outside of consciousness as it pulled into the station. A soft voice whispered near your ear, “Hey, we’re nearly here.”

You blinked slowly, lifting your head, a crease in your cheek from where you had been pressed against the warm fabric on Alfie’s shoulder.

Oh. Alfie’s shoulder.

Your eyes met his for a beat too long, and his lips lifted into the softest fond smile, “You, uh, fell asleep,” he said, voice quieter than usual.

“Shit, sorry,” you mumbled, suddenly very awake, brushing a hand through your hair and sitting up straighter, “I didn’t mean to.”

He shook his head instantly, “Nah, it’s alright. I didn’t mind.”

The warm from his body still lingered from where you had been leaning against him, and his hoodie had the tiniest wrinkle from your cheek. He glanced at it, then quickly looked away, like he wasn’t allowed to acknowledge how much he liked it.

The boys were already hauling their bags down from the overhead racks before the train had fully stopped, still snickering and giving Alfie knowing looks, but he chose to ignore them as he turned to his attention to you again.

“D’you need a hand with your stuff?”

You smiled, flustered by the offer, and nodded, “That’d be great, thanks.”

Alfie grabbed your bag with one hand and his own with the other, stepping off the train beside you as the rest of the group spilled out in a frantic blur of laughter and shouted goodbyes. You dug in your pocket for your pocket, squinting at the screen through the streetlights as a text came in.

You groaned.

“What’s up?” Alfie asked, watching your expression shift.

“My lift home just cancelled,” you said, grumbling under your breath, “They had to turn back ‘cause of some emergency. I guess I could call an Uber, but it’s late, and they’ll be pricey from here.”

Alfie hesitated, adjusting the strap of your bag on his shoulder, “Um,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck, “My hotel’s only like a ten-minute walk. If you want, you could crash there for the night? If that’s not weird.”

Your brows lifted, surprised but his expression was so genuine and a little nervous. Like he really didn’t want you to feel weird about it.

“That’s really sweet of you,” you said, looking up at him with a soft smile, “Are you sure? I don’t wanna put you out.”

Alfie shook his head, “It’s fine. Seriously. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s warm and it’s not like a hundred quid for a cab.”

You glanced around at the station, then back at Alfie, his hoodie was still rumpled, and his cheeks a little flushed from earlier, and his eyes on yours like he was just hoping you’d say yes.

“Okay,” you said finally, trying to sound casual despite your heart jumping a little, “Yeah. That’d be great.”

Alfie exhaled in a way that gave away that he’d been holding his breath. He gave a crooked little smile, then nodded toward the street, “Cool. Let’s go.”

As you walked side by side down the streets of London, your shoulder brushed his again, neither of you making attempts to move away.

The hotel Alfie was staying in was tucked away on a quieter street just outside the city centre, nothing crazy, but it was clean and warm with that soft hum of late-night stillness. Alfie pressed the button to lift, holding the door as you stepped in.

Neither of you said anything on the way up. The silence filled with a strange kind of awareness. Like every small movement feeling a little louder than usual. The way your arms brushed when you stepped into the lift. The way his hand hovered just slightly behind your back as you walked down the hallway. The way your heart thumped louder when he unlocked the door to his room and pushed it open.

It was a single room, obviously. A double bed against the wall, the dim lighting throwing soft shadows across the white walls. Alfie stepped inside first, dropping your bag gently to the floor near the door.

“Home sweet home,” he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck, “It’s not much to be fair, but theres a fridge and the WiFi works.”

You smiled, toeing off your shoes by the door, “Beats falling asleep in a dodgy Uber with my head against the window. So, thank you.”

Alfie shrugged like it was no big deal, but his smile was shy, warm, “You can take the bed, by the way. I’ll sleep on the sofa or something.”

You hesitated, glancing at him, before sitting on the edge of the bed letting out a tired yawn. Alfie nodded awkwardly, still staying stood, like he didn’t know what to do next.

You sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed brushing your fingers through your hair, still messy with sleep, “So,” you said after a beat, tilting your head slightly, “are you always this much of a gentleman, or am I just special?”

Alfie looked over, eyes widening slightly. Then he huffed a breath of a laugh, one hand raking through his hair, “I mean, you're definitely special.”

You blinked and a silence settled between you, just long enough for your breath to catch a little in your throat and Alfie cleared his throat quickly adding, “I mean like, not just ‘cause of tonight. I just meant, you're funny. And cool. And I like being around you.”

Your chest tightened with that strange mix of surprise and nerves. He wasn’t looking at you when he said it, just down at the floor, foot nudging the edge of the bed.

You smiled, soft and genuine, “I like being around you too.”

Alfie finally glanced up at you, and there was something warm in his expression now.

“You, uh,” He nodded toward his suitcase in the corner, “Wanna borrow a shirt or something to sleep in? If that’s not weird?”

You blinked, “Really?”

He nodded, already crouching to dig one out, “Yeah, course. Sleeping in jeans is bare uncomfortable. You can give it back tomorrow or just keep it.”

You smiled as he stood handing you a plain grey T-shirt. It was soft and clearly well-worn, and you didn’t miss the way his fingers brushed yours when he passed it over, “Thanks,” A smile pulling at the corners of your lips, “You wanna change first?”

“You can go.”

You nodded, pushing yourself off the bed and heading into the bathroom. The moment you stepped foot in the bathroom, you caught sight of yourself in the mirror and groaned inwardly. Great. You looked like a knob. There was smudged mascara clung to the skin beneath your eyes, and your hair was in a messy bunch around your head.

You peeled off your jeans and jumper letting them drop to the floor in a heap before tugging on Alfie’s shirt. It slipped down to your mid-thigh, soft, worn and smelling faintly of his aftershave. The scent clinging to your skin sending a shiver down your spine.

You quickly splashed cold water on your face lathering up with the hotel’s overly perfumed soap - already regretting the irritation it would cause your skin later. Still, you felt slightly more human when you finally turned off the tap and stepped out of the bathroom.

Alfie was on the sofa, scrolling through his phone, but his gaze lifted the moment you reappeared. His eyes caught on you, on his shirt hanging off your frame, and he visibly swallowed, throat bobbing as he took in your appearance before forcing himself to look away.

“Bathroom’s free,” you murmured, keeping your eyes on the floor as you passed him.

Without a word, he stood and disappeared inside.

You hurried to the bed, diving beneath the duvet and pulling it up to your chin as if that could protect you from the butterflies taking over your stomach, and the slight embarrassment of being half naked in front of him.

A few minutes later, he emerged, hoodie swapped for a loose black T-shirt and pyjama pants. He paused in the doorway, rubbing the back of his neck like he was debating something but then he exhaled and padded quietly over to the couch settling back down.

Half an hour passed.

The room filled with nothing but the soft rustle of the sheets when you shifted and the sound of your quiet, synced breaths. You laid still, staring up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the growing ache in your chest, the undeniable weight of want.

You weren’t supposed to feel like this, not over a friend but there it was. An unmistakable longing for him to be closer.

Finally, you rolled over beneath the covers, the sheets brushing against your bare thighs as your gaze landed on Alfie, who was curled up awkwardly on the too-small sofa, limbs pretzeled, face half-buried in a pillow. He looked uncomfortable.

You bit your lip, hesitating for just a moment.

“Alfie?” you muttered softly, praying he was awake.

A soft hum escaped his lips as he lifted his head to look over at you, “Yeah?”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied a bit too quickly, then winced as he tried to get comfortable, “Totally fine. Living the dream, really.”

You watched him shift again, trying to fold his long legs into the narrow cushions. The sofa creaked beneath him in protest.

“Alfie,” you said again.

“Hmm?”

“Come on. Just get in the bed.”

His head popped up slightly, “What?”

You nodded toward the empty half beside you, “You’re literally gonna fold in half trying to sleep on that thing.”

He hesitated, clearly torn, “I don’t want to make it weird.”

You gave him a half-smile, “It’s only weird if we make it weird.”

Alfie looked at you for a moment, debating if this was a good idea, and then exhaled through his nose, low and unsure, “Alright. Just don’t tell the boys.”

You grinned, a small laugh passing your lips, “Your secret’s safe.”

He stood and crossed the room, climbing into the other side of the bed carefully like he didn’t want to disturb the air around you. He settled on his back, hands on his stomach, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

You laid facing him again, hair spilling across the pillow, the too-big collar of his T-shirt slipping off one shoulder.

He glanced over at you, eyes catching on the curve of your smile. His own twitched up, barely-there but this time, it didn’t fade. It lingered, like he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

You felt your breath hitch, the warmth between you slowly starting to change into something less sleepy and something more electric blooming in the quiet.

Your eyes locked in the dark.

“You good?” you asked, softly.

“Yeah,” he said, voice low, “You?”

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper, “Mhm.”

Neither of you moved at first, but something shifted in the space between. It was in the way his fingers flexed slightly under the duvet, how his jaw tensed when his eyes flicked to your mouth. He looked like he was debating something, like he was on the edge of it.

So you made the first move, leaning in ever so slightly, your heart hammering, breath caught in your throat.

“Can I?” you started, but Alfie was already moving, one hand coming up to cup your jaw, eyes still locked on yours so he didn’t miss your reaction.

He kissed you. His lips warm against yours, moving hesitantly like he couldn’t quite believe you wanted this too, and then you kissed him back, hand curling into the front of his T-shirt, and that was all it took for him to deepen it.

He shifted under the duvet, his body pressing flush to yours, the heat between you rising in quiet, breathless increments. Your legs tangled, his hand sliding to your waist, gripping tightly like he needed to feel every inch of your skin against him.

When he kissed you again, it was rougher - still careful, still sweet, but desperate now. Like he had been holding back for so long time and now he could finally give in.

You gasped when his hand slipped beneath the hem of the T-shirt - his T-shirt - and fingers skimming along the bare skin of your thigh.

“You sure?” he murmured against your mouth, voice husky, forehead pressed to yours.

You nodded, eyes half-lidded, breathing uneven, “Yeah. I want you to.”

He didn’t rush, his fingers brushing up slowly, teasing, drawing goosebumps across your skin as he found where you were already aching for him. You bit hard on your lip, breath stuttering as he pressed two fingers against you through your underwear, watching your face the whole time.

“Fuck,” he whispered, voice cracking slightly, “You’re soaked.”

Your hips arched instinctively into his touch, your hand sliding up under his shirt to rest against his abs, feeling the tension coil beneath the surface of his skin. He peppered soft kisses against your neck as his fingers slipped past the barrier, stroking you gently memorising every reaction, and every breathy moan you tried to stifle.

You couldn’t keep quiet for long.

Your forehead pressed to his shoulder as he plunged his fingers into you working you open with careful, curling strokes that sent your head into a dizzying blue.

“Fuck,” you breathed, barely audible, your thighs trembling around his hand.

His lips found the edge of your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, dragging slow kisses across your skin while his fingers moved faster into you, his thumb circling your clit with a slow precision. You felt yourself getting closer to the edge, everything hot and tense and close.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured into your ear, lips brushing your skin, “Let go for me.”

You came with a soft, broken gasp, burying your face into his neck, thighs clenching around his hand as he coaxed you through every wave of it, kissing your temple guiding you through it.

When it passed, and your breathing finally slowed, he pulled you into his chest, arms wrapped tight around you like he didn’t want to let you go. You pressed your cheek to his shoulder, skin flushed, lips still tingling from his kiss.

You just stayed like that, curled up and tangled together in a thick air of everything that had changed between you.

taglist: @jamiekluivert @roc-haze @whisperturnedecho @graceln4 @dopeysunflowers @super-gay-for-u @bethorwhateverr @livvymd @lilyyxoii @4ngelrealm @canyouseethesainz @happyclifford @golden-hoax @tatumrileyslover @madforgeorge @wherethezoes-at @themdera @xlovergirlx @smzyyx @bowielovesyou @pretendyoucantseeme @elhotchner @duolingofanaccount @pookietv @ooostarwarsfandom501st @triplefrontierbabe @formulaa-1 @artvscvntymullet

[k-k0129]

love language

george clarke x fem reader

summary: george’s love language is physical touch, yours is not

main masterlist | masterlist

You weren’t big on physical affection—you never had been. It wasn’t something you were used to. All of your past relationships had lacked in that department, aside from the sexual components.

It wasn’t as though your relationship with George was completely devoid of physical love. Behind closed doors, his hands rarely left your body, and that suited you just fine. He understood your boundaries when it came to privacy.

But when he tried to hold your hand in public and you instinctively pulled away, slipping your hands into your jacket pockets and out of his reach, it caught him off guard. He would panic and let his thoughts spiral worried that he did something wrong.

That panic melted away the moment you returned to the comfort of your flat, your legs draped over his, his fingers tracing idle shapes on your bare skin.

It confused him, to say the least, but he didn’t press.

You felt guilty sometimes. You knew George was a touchy person - he was that way with all his friends. And though he never said it outright, you could tell that not being able to express that side of himself with you, at least not publicly, brought him down. But he wanted you to feel safe and comfortable.

Now, you stood with Liv, Flo, and Sabina in the boys’ flat, celebrating at Chris’s annual New Year’s party. George watched you from across the room, unable to take his eyes off you. He was completely captivated - your curled hair framed your face perfectly, your dress fit you like it had been made just for you, the hem showing off your legs as the sequin tassels shimmered and danced with every movement.

He was so in love with you it almost hurt.

Your eyes flicked over to him, catching him mid-sip of his beer, standing alone. You smiled shyly and gave a small wave.

George returned it with a toothy grin that made your stomach flip and your face flush. Even after nearly two years together, he still had the power to make you feel like you had a schoolgirl crush.

Liv smirked, nudging you in his direction. You giggled, tipsy and lighthearted, and let your feet carry you to him.

“Having fun?” George asked, fighting the urge to pull you into his arms.

You nodded, looking up at him with your lip caught between your teeth.

“Don’t do that, sweetheart,” he murmured, gently freeing your lip with his thumb.

Your cheeks flushed darker, your eyes quickly scanning the room—not because you were worried or ashamed, but because you didn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.

But as your gaze swept across the room, you realized every couple was entangled in their own world—arms draped, heads resting, hands intertwined.

You stepped a little closer to George, letting your pinkie brush against his free hand before slowly wrapping yours around it.

He smiled at the subtle gesture, looking down at you as you returned Flo’s tipsy grin when she stumbled over to join the conversation.

George didn’t want to push. He was always careful with you, making sure you were okay. But he couldn’t deny the giddiness blooming in his chest when you didn’t pull away. Instead, when he gently laced his fingers through yours, you gave his hand a soft squeeze - still chatting with Flo, but letting him know you were right there.

And that small gesture - your pinkie nudging his, your hand settling in his - meant everything to him. It wasn’t loud or showy. It wasn’t the kind of affection that drew attention. But it was real. It was you.

As midnight crept closer, the room buzzed with the countdown and clinking of glasses, friends pulling each other close in anticipation of the new year. George leaned in slightly, his forehead brushing yours, eyes searching yours for a sign - any sign - of hesitation, of discomfort but there wasn’t.

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t need to.

You tilted your head just enough for your lips to meet his - soft, tentative, still unsure about being watched, but brave all the same. The kiss was brief, a quiet promise pressed against the noise of the world around you. And when you pulled away, your hand still wrapped in his, he was smiling like he’d just won something without even playing.

“Happy New Year,” he whispered, his voice almost getting lost in the chaos.

You nodded, eyes crinkling at the corners as you smiled back, “Happy New Year, George.”

He gave your hand one more squeeze, and this time, you didn’t let go.

[k-k0129]

miss possessive

george clarke x fem reader

summary: you get jealous when a girl hits on george on a night out - this was a request but i can’t find it

masterlist | main masterlist

The bass pounded hard through the floor, rattling up into your ribs as the lights washed the club in deep swirls of red and violet. You were trying to listen to Arthur and Bach bicker over something stupid, something that made you laugh but it was hard to focus when George was standing ten feet away, the two of you slipping into the uneasy, uncomfortable role of just friends

He was leaning casually against the bar, drink in hand, looking infuriatingly good and effortlessly magnetic in a way that made strangers flock to him - including the blonde, who was twirling a lock of her hair and leaning in far too close.

Making your laugh stutter and die almost instantly when you spotted it.

Arthur didn’t notice, still going on about some ridiculous animal fact. But Bach caught it immediately, your stare, the shift in your smile. His eyes darted to the bar, clocking the girl, and then turning back to you. He smirked knowingly, nudging your arm.

"Don’t look now, but someone’s about to seriously regret her life choices."

You snorted under your breath, but your gaze betrayed you, flickering back to the bar. She was laughing too loudly, touching George’s arm to casually. George, to his credit, looked politely disinterested - but he wasn’t exactly falling over himself to move away either

Your jaw tightened.

She was stood there, undressing him with her eyes, laughing like you weren’t standing ten feet away, like she had some kind of claim. And it wasn’t even her fault - she didn’t know. Nobody did, except your friends. She couldn’t know you were the one who fell asleep with your head on his chest every night. That you were the one sneaking kisses in the backs of taxis, pressing into him in the dark when the world wasn’t looking. That you were the one whose name he murmured against bare skin. She didn’t know George was yours, even if you had to pretend he wasn’t in rooms like this.

You forced a tight smile at whatever joke Bach made, but your laugh came out wrong and brittle. You took a sip of your drink, and then another.

Your eyes locked on George’s just a second. His gaze flicked over like he could hear the turmoil in your head, like he the storm brewing in your chest. The corner of his mouth twitched - a silent apology, a warning, a promise, you didn’t know which. It was only a split second, but it was enough.

His gaze sharpened the second he saw you watching. His body language shifted just slightly, but you caught it. The way he leaned slightly back from the girl. The way the smirk he usually wore for strangers fell right off his face.

You leaned into Bach, voice low and lethal, "If she keeps touching him like that, I’m gonna commit a crime."

Bach chuckled, "I'd honestly pay to see that."

"I’m not joking."

This time, you didn’t look away. You let your glare harden burning holes through her glittery top, and the way she lingered like she had some god-given right to his attention, like you were daring her to keep touching what wasn’t hers.

"Pick someone else," you muttered to yourself, "Literally any other breathing human being."

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the way George still hadn’t physically moved, or maybe it was just you reaching your limit but either way, you snapped.

You started walking before you had even finished the thought. Bach let out a low whistle, shoving Arthur to get his attention. They both watched you charge the bar like a storm brewing over calm water.

You slipped in beside George just as the blonde giggled something flirty. You rolled your eyes so hard it nearly hurt before you forced on a bright, fake smile. You leaned casually against the bar, your body brushing his, your hand slipping over his like it was second nature.

And George squeezed your hand immediately. A tight and deliberate squeeze, like he was openly claiming you as his.

You saw her hesitate, the way her laughter faltered mid-giggle.

George didn’t even pretend to look at her anymore. His eyes locking on you as his body instinctively tilted towards you, shoulders brushing like he needed the contact, like it wasn’t enough just holding your hand under the bar.

The girl blinked, stammering pointing between you, "Oh, are you two...?"

"Friends," you said sweetly, your smile all teeth, "Really close friends."

George let out a low laugh, a real one this time, deep in his chest, and if the girl had any doubt left, it shattered right there.

She made some excuse about needing the bathroom and practically sprinted into the crowd.

As soon as she was out of sight, George turned to you properly, something wicked glinting in his eyes. His hand didn’t let go of yours, he just tugged you a fraction closer.

"You’re terrifying when you’re jealous," he said, voice low enough that only you could hear. You knew it wasn’t a complaint.

You arched a brow, "You didn’t exactly look bothered."

He smirked, leaning down until his mouth brushed your ear, his breath sending a shiver down your spine, "Was too busy thinking about what you were gonna do about it."

Your hand brushed along his jawline, an innocent move to everyone else, but you knew better, “She’s just lucky I decided to behave."

George’s grin sharpened, tilting his head down so his mouth grazed your temple in something that wasn’t quite a kiss, but it wasn’t nothing either.

"That was you behaving?" he murmured.

taglist: @jamiekluivert @reidyourpalms @roc-haze @whisperturnedecho @graceln4 @dopeysunflowers @super-gay-for-u @bethorwhateverr @livvymd @lilyyxoii @4ngelrealm @kiyoomology @canyouseethesainz @happyclifford @golden-hoax @tatumrileyslover @madforgeorge @wherethezoes-at @pretendyoucantseeme

[k-k0129]

damn towel

george clarke x fem reader - smut

summary: the plumbing in george’s flat is broken, so you offer him your shower.

warnings: mature content (18+ only)

masterlist | main masterlist

The sound of knocking echoed through your flat making you spring out of your space on your sofa rushing to the door. It was just after 7, exactly when George said he’d be coming by. You opened the door with a toothy grin, finding your best friend standing there with a lopsided smile. His joggers hanging low on his hips, and his hoodie had ridden up just enough to expose his v-line.

“I still think your really milking your plumbing being broken,” you said, stepping aside to let him in.

He grinned down at you, giving an unapologetic shrug, “What can I say? Just need an excuse to see my best girl every day.”

You rolled your eyes at his comment pretending like your cheeks weren’t on fire from his words, but you couldn’t stop the small smile that played on your lips.

George made his way down the hall heading toward your bathroom casually, already far too familiar with your flat. The door clicked shut, followed by the hiss of the shower turning on. You retreated to your bedroom a smile still playing on your lips as you grabbed your book, propping yourself up against your pillows.

As the sound of the water pattering in the next room echoed through the flat, staying concentrated on the ink was starting to prove a lot more difficult then anticipated.

Every so often, your mind would drift to the thought of George just meters away.

George and his tanned skin bare under the water that was sliding down over his–

You blinked hard, refocusing your eyes back on the paragraph you had been trying to read for the last five minutes.

Ten minutes later, the bathroom door creaked opened. Your ears perked up at the sound of the soft thud of George’s feet as they padded against the floor. Then, he appeared in your doorway.

Your eyes lifted instinctively, raking over his frame as your breath hitched in your throat.

He looked godly in this light. The sun from the window haloed around him, gliding over his bare skin. George sauntered into your room a white towel wrapped low around his hips, damp curls pushed back, droplets trailing down the lines of his chest. His skin flushed from the heat, muscles defined and glistening.

You knew you should look away, but your eyes lingered. Drinking in the curves of his shoulders, the dip of his collarbone, the trail of hair disappearing beneath the towel.

You hadn’t even noticed your book snapping closed in your lap until George turned to you, an eyebrow raised, catching the way your eyes dragged over his torso.

“See something you like, love?”

Your cheeks burned instantly, and you snapped your head back to the book as if that might hide the obvious.

“You’re stood in my room practically naked, George. What do you want me to do? Not look?”

He stepped forward slowly letting out a dark chuckle. His knuckles whitening slightly as he held the towel securely with one hand, “I don’t think it matters what I want, darling.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to fire back something equally as cocky, but he was already crossing the space to your bed and looking down at you.

His voice dropped lower, “If you keep staring at me like that, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to walk away.”

You tilted your chin, tilting your head challengingly, “Who says I want you to?”

That was all it took.

He dropped to his knees crowding the space around you on the mattress. One of his hands bracing beside your hip as his lips met yours in a hot and heady kiss – no hesitation, just years of pent up tension tumbling down. His other hand lifted to cradled your cheek, deepening the kiss, tongues tangling with a shared yearning.

The book on your lap fell with a gentle thud as your hands slid over George’s damp shoulders, nails dragging down his back. The towel on his hips shifts slightly with his movement, barely hanging on as he leaned into you, pressing you into the pillows.

His lips trail to your neck, teeth grazing your skin, “Been thinking about this,” he breathed, “about you. For so fucking long.”

You laughed breathlessly, gasping as he nipped at your collarbone.

“George. your towel,”

“Fuck the damn towel,” he muttered, dark eyes locking on yours.

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, nodding softly. Then his mouth was back on yours and the towel was long forgotten as it fell into a pile with a soft thud. Your brain barely registered the sound, too focused on the feeling of George’s body against yours, his skin burning as his moved with an unrestrained hunger.

One hand slid up your thigh brushing the hem of your shorts, fingers grazing along the inside with teasing precision. Your breath stuttered, legs parting on command as his touch climbed higher.

“You gonna pretend like you haven’t been thought about this too, hm?” he hummed against your lips, his words melting into your lips, “Like you don’t lay awake at night wishing it was me touching you.”

You bit back a moan as his fingers brushed over where you wanted him the most, “Please George,” you whispered, lifting your hips toward his hand, “just do something.”

Then that insufferable cocky grin that lived on his face flashed again, and he dipped his head back down, kissing you like a starving man.

You felt a shift in him. Something feral in him snapping loose under the surface. He pushed your top up, lips and tongue trailing over your stomach, up your ribs, until they reached your breasts. His teeth scraping over one nipple whilst his hand palmed the other, the soft sounds spilling from your lips only spurring him on.

Your shorts were gone before you could wrap your head around what was even happening. The fabric tugged down and tossed aside in one movement, then his finger slipped through your folds, spreading the slick over your sensitive hole.

“Already so wet for me,” he groaned, kissing your neck as he slowly slid a finger inside you. A breathy moan escaped your lips, and then he added another, “Fuck, darling.”

Your back arched into him, fingers curling around the sheets, and the other hand tangling in his damp curls.

He worked you open with maddening skill, his fingers curling just right, the heel of his palm pressing against your clit. You squeezed your eyes closed at the sensation, hips writhing under him as desperate whimpers left your mouth, “George, please.”

“Please what?” he breathed, eyes glistening as they locked on your face watching you fall apart as his fingers pumper deeper, “Tell me what you want, baby.”

“You.”

He climbed over your body, caging your head between his arms kissing you softly as he lined himself up before entering you slowly, filling you inch by inch until you were gasping into his mouth.

“Fuck,” he hissed, dropping his forehead to yours, “You feel so good, been dreaming about this.”

Your legs lifted around his waist, the heels digging into the plush of his arse pulling him in deeper, needing all of him.

He started moving. His rhythm slow and steady, but every thrust was hard and deliberate. Every movement set your nerves alight, broken moans escaping both of you as the headboard tapped lightly against the wall. His hand wrapped around your wrists, pining them above your head, fingers tight against your skin. The other dug into your hip as he drove into you wildly, groaning your name like a prayer he had been waiting far too long to say.

“You’re mine,” he mewled into the crook of your neck, teeth biting at your skin, “please, tell me you know that.”

“I’m yours.”

The words unravelled him in an instant.

George snapped his hips into you harder, deeper, hitting the spot that made you cry out. Your back lifted off the bed, mouth falling open as your orgasm surged through you. His thumb found your clit, circling with expert pressure as you shattered beneath him.

Your body trembled around him, clenching tight, and he followed with a low groan against your shoulder as he spilled into you, still holding your wrists like he was making sure you weren’t going to slip away.

He large frame collapsed over you, limbs tangling together with warm sticky skin. He let go of your hands, breath heavy against your collarbone as you combed through the damp curls at the back of his neck, making him hum softly.

And then for a moment, the room went quiet. All that could be heard was the sounds of your erratic breathing, hearts pounding in sync.

Then George lifted his head pressing a soft kiss to your jaw. You smile down at him, breathless and gentle.

“Well,” he murmured, his voice soft and tender, “think I’m gonna make sure the plumbing in my building doesn’t work more often.”

You laugh breathlessly, nails running down his biceps. He shivered at the feeling. “I think I like that plan.”

taglist: @jamiekluivert @roc-haze @whisperturnedecho @graceln4 @dopeysunflowers @super-gay-for-u @bethorwhateverr @livvymd @lilyyxoii @4ngelrealm @canyouseethesainz @happyclifford @golden-hoax @tatumrileyslover @wherethezoes-at @themdera @xlovergirlx @smzyyx @bowielovesyou @pretendyoucantseeme @elhotchner @duolingofanaccount @pookietv @ooostarwarsfandom501st @triplefrontierbabe @formulaa-1 @clarkeyscvntymullet @sdmnpact

[k-k0129]

safety net

chris dixon x fem reader

summary: after arthur hill’s final show, you and the rest of the boys try to leave the venue through the crowd of fans

main masterlist | masterlist

Chris guided you out to the crowd of fans stood waiting for him, Arthur, Bach and Chip. You linked your arm through his, walking behind Arthur and Chip as they tried to organise a group photo with the fans who had waited.

The yells for Chris and Bach to join made you jump out of your dazed stare at the ground. Chris laughed looking at Arthur and Chip who were waving the other two boys over frantically.

You looked over at Liv, who was stood beside, and smiled at her moving your arm from Chris to hers letting your boyfriend join in the picture.

Chris reached for your free hand squeezing it softly letting you move your hand before he walked off.

You chewed at your cheek with the feeling of anxiety rise into your throat. Liv glanced at you noticing the pool of tears collecting at your waterline, “you okay?” She whispered and you nodded instantly refusing to move your eyes from Chris.

Liv places her hand on yours rubbing your knuckles softly trying to provide you with some sort of comfort until Chris came back. She also tried her best to block you from the view of the fans, making sure you weren’t on camera.

The four boys laughed loudly as they left the group of fans, Arthur and Chip heading straight to the car they has hired, where as Bach and Chris made a b-line to you and Liv.

Chris smiled brightly at you until he noticed the tears streaking your cheeks and his face dropped rushing over to you. Liv walked over to Bach quickly pulling him away from you and Chris making him mutter questions of curiosity.

Chris slipped his arm around your waist guiding you through the crowd of fans, who were pushing and shouting for the youtuber but his only focus was on you.

As the crowd pushed more, you stumbled slightly making a sob leave your lips pulling at Chris’ heart, “You’re okay. It’s okay. Everything is okay.” He whispered soothingly into your ear as his thumb traced soft shapes on your hips.

Once you were out of the crowd, Chris pulled you aside cupping your face in his hands, “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He asked softly, swiping away the stray tears on your blushed cheeks.

You shook your head not trusting your voice as he tried to meet your eyes, “What happened?” He asked again, in the same delicate tone.

“Nothing.” You hiccuped, “I just panicked thats all. Itself stupid.”

Chris shook his head moving his hands to sit on your back pulling you into his embrace, “it’s not stupid,” he muttered, kissing the crown of your head.

You sunk into his hold inhaling his scent, slowly regulating your breathing as rubbed his thumb on the center of your back gently.

“You ready to go home?” He asked, pulling away for a second looking down at you with an adoring expression.

You shook your head, “We have to go celebrate with Arthur.” You reminded him.

Chris looked at you dumbfounded, “I don’t think he’ll mind.”

Chris lookedback at the car, which held all of your friends, and Arthur poked his out looking over at the couple giving them a thumbs up.

“Let’s go home, and get food, and we can watch whatever you want.” Chris suggested, and you gave a defeated sigh, “let’s go, gorgeous.”

[k-k0129]

i kinda hope they catch us

alfie buttle x fem reader x becky james x will lenney

summary: things get a little interesting after monaco gp qualifying, and dynamics start to shift

warning: very mature content (18+ only)

main masterlist

content warnings: voyeurism, threesome, unprotected sex, dom! will, switch! becky, sub! reader, dom! alfie, overstimulation (if i’ve missed any let me know)

The warm Mediterranean air clung to your skin as you sat on a sunbed leaning back against the railing of the yacht, a champagne flute lazily twisting between your finger in hand and your eyes half-lidded beneath the amber sky. The sound of waves splashing against the hull mixed with the distant roar of car engines still echoing from the street circuit. The qualifying session had ended hours ago, but the adrenaline from the day still lingered on.

Alfie was lounging back on the sunbed, shirtless and lapping up the sun on his tan skin, his eyes flicking over to you occasionally when he thought you weren’t looking. Becky sat beside you, legs crossed, her thigh pressing into yours, her fingers tapping idly against your bare knee as she laughed at something Will said from behind her.

You had no idea when it started. When all the shared glances, the lingering touches, the slow build of thick tension started but it was growing hot between the three of you.

Maybe it was just the Monaco air.

Or maybe it was the way Becky’s fingers brushed your inner thigh when she reached for her glass, or the way Alfie helped you onto the yacht, hands lingering on your hips a little too long to be innocent.

When you all returned to the hotel, the others started peeling off slowly. Arthur and Chip to another afterparty, Will to his room, the rest splitting off in giggles and drunken stumbles. But Becky and Alfie remained at your side.

“Your room’s closest,” AB said casually, draping an arm across your shoulders, “I’m not ready for the night to end.”

Becky hummed in agreement, looping her fingers through yours, “Hope you’ve got more drink.”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak. You just nodded, heart pounding in your throat.

Your hotel room was warm, the lights low and golden. The balcony doors still open from the morning, letting the sound of distant music and Monaco’s brilliant nightlife filter in. Alfie had taken it upon himself to sprawl across your sofa like he owned the place, and Becky moved to your minibar, pouring drinks with ease, tossing you a smirk over her shoulder.

You had found yourself draping your legs over Alfie’s thigh as you watched Becky closely, her hips swinging with every step and her tits bouncing with even the smallest movement.

“You two are kind of dangerous together,” you murmured, taking your glass, trying to ignore the way your fingers shook slightly.

Becky tilted her head, “Dangerous?”

“Yeah,” you said, a bit breathless, "You're both fit."

AB chuckled from next to you, “You’re saying that like it’s a problem.”

“No,” you whispered, eyes flickering up to meet his gaze, “Just an observation.”

Becky stepped in front of you lifting your head to look at her, “You think he’s fit?”

“I mean, yeah. And so are you.”

The room stilled, the sudden shift your words caused evident. The way Alfie’s gaze darkened instantly, and Becky’s grin curled into something hungrier.

“Well,” Becky said slowly, setting down her drink and brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, “you’re not too bad either, love.”

You barely had time to react before her lips were on yours. The warm sensation sending a shiver down your spine as the taste of champagne spilled onto your tongue. A firm hand slid to your waist, gripping you closer as the sofa shifted next to you.

“You always get this flustered?” he murmured against your neck, fingers skimming the hem of your dress.

You whimpered at the contact, melting into the warmth of his body.

Becky pulled back slightly, eyes glistening, “Look at her. So responsive.”

Alfie fingers slid down your spine, undoing the zip at the back of your dress, “Said she’d be fun.”

When you pulled back, you were breathless, Becky had moved from your lips to your neck and Alfie looked like he was about to combust.

“Fuck,” he whispered, “Come here.”

His hand tangled in the back of your hair, pulling you toward him until your mouths crashed together in an urgent, hot mess of tongue and teeth. His lips were rougher than Beckys’, and hungrier too, tongue sweeping against yours like he’d been holding back for days.

Becky’s fingers slid under the sleeves on your dress dragging her nails along your skin slightly.

You whimpered into Alfie’s mouth as Becky sucked at the tender spot under your ear, teeth nipping slightly as her breath fanned over your skin, “Bed.” Alfie growled, pushing you up off the sofa lips never leaving you.

Clothes started to slip off you slowly as you all tumbled your way to the bed. Your dress was pushed off your shoulder pooling at your feet, alfie’s shirt had been thrown off his body, and Becky’s top was long gone.

Every touch sent electric through your body as Alfie’s hands explored your waist, and Becky’s mouth teased your chest, the two of them passing you between them like a game of tennis.

You leaned back into Becky’s lap as Alfie kneeled on the floor in front of you, trailing kisses down your stomach and inner thighs. Becky’s fingers brushed over the sunkissed skin on your collarbone, before tangling her fingers with yours, grounding you while Alfie made you forget your own name.

He started slow, teasing you. His tongue flattening on your heat sucking your slick clean making you mewl softly looking up at Becky with pleading eyes.

“Look at you,” Becky whispered, eyes devouring you, “So fucking pretty like this.”

Alfie smirked against you his tongue exploring every inch of your cunt before he added his fingers into the equation, your mind turning into mush as he pushed his digits into you.

You let out a moan just as Becky’s lips found yours swallowing your sounds, as your free hand buried into Alfie’s curls dragging him closer, nails scraping through his hair. He groaned, low and rough at the feeling, the sound vibrating against your skin.

Alfie’s lips wrapped around your clit, eyes locking on yours and Becky’s sloppy movements above him only spurring him on. Your hips spasmed, a coil building rapidly in your lower stomach as you reached your high pushing up into Alfie’s mouth.

Becky pulled away from the kiss, brushing the stray hairs from your face as you moan softly head dropping back against her shoulders. Then her hands swiped over your breast teasing your hardened nipples knowing it would get a reaction as you moans grew louder.

Then it crashed over you. You cried out burying your head into Becky’s neck and your hands gripped Alfie’s scalp as his pace became rentless on your clit and Becky noticed instantly, “Okay, that’s enough.” She snapped, tapping the boys head.

Alfie sat back on his heels, eyes blown and fucked; his lips and chin covered in your juices.

Becky tugged you further onto her lap, stroking your hair lovingly whispeing sweet words against your skin peppering soft kiss against the nape your neck.

Alfie sat beside you moving your head to face him pecking your lips as an apology. You smiled at him through a dazed expression puckering your lips once more and he chuckled pressing against you, his lips brushing yours softly.

"You're fucking incredible," he muttered against your lips, breath hot, "Been thinking about this all day."

Becky’s breath hitched as your fingers found their way to her chest running her hard nipple between the pads of your thumb and index. Alfie leaned forward capturing the other in his mouth drawing gasped moans from Becky as her hands gripped your hips, nails dragging teasingly over your hipbones.

Alfie pulled off her staring at you both with a heated stare not knowing what to do with himself. Becky’s hand found its way to the back of his neck pulling him down to meet your lips again. His hands replaced Beckys, holding you steady as his mouth moved down pressing hot, open kisses along your shoulder, nipping gently at your collarbone.

"You two are fucking unreal," Becky moaned, voice thick with lust and need.

Her hand travelled between her own thighs toying with her clit as Alfie pulled you onto his lap in a swift motion. You could feel him under you, hard and eager, pressing against you grinding just enough to cause friction.

You reached over for Becky pushing her hand away replacing it with your own, fumbling to find her puffy clit through broken kisses, circling it slowly drawing a loud moan from her as she fell back on the bed.

The three of you had gotten so lost in the state of unadulterated lust and need, that none of you heard the knock at your hotel room or the door open or the footsteps that followed.

And now, Will stood in the archway of the room watching the three of you tangled and blissful in each others' arms. His arms crossed firmly over his chest as he ran his tongue over his lips. A gasp left your parted lips as you were tossed around in Alfie’s lap as he pushed you until you were facing Becky’s soaked cunt.

“Go on, pet.” Will finally announced his presence making the three of you look up at him, “Eat out our Becky like the good girl you are.”

You nodded not even being surprised by his presence. Your eyes glued on Will watching him make his way over to the armchair by the window. He nodded his head for you to continue, and you did as you were told, dipping your head down tongue swiping over her folds making her hips buck up into your mouth.

A warm hand ran over your back pushing you down until your chest was flushed against the duvet. You stared up at Becky, whose eyes were squeezed shut in bliss as one of her hands groped at her tit and the other gripped at your scalp as your tongue worked against her pulling almost pornographic moans from her throat.

A whine fell from your lips at the feeling of Alfie’s sticky tip lining up against your swollen hole, “You ready, pretty girl?”

You nodded wildly in approval eyes dashing over at Will, who was slowly stroking his hard cock watching the scene as if it was any other Saturday to him. Alfie leaned over you burying himself into your cunt, his mouth dragging down your spine thrusting deep into you.

“Fuck,” you moaned, sending vibrations up through Becky as she cried out nails digging into your head.

The three of you moved together in sync. Your mouth lapping on Becky as Alfie gripped on your hips relentlessly driving into you, your hands tangled in Becky as the room filled with sounds that came straight from a porn film.

Becky came with a strangled moan, her body shaking as she released on your tongue and her body going limp under you gasping for air. Alfie’s hand wrapped around your waist pulling you flush against his chest thrusting up into you making a strangled moan ripped through your throat.

He wasn’t going to last much longer either, his rhythm stuttering as he drilled into you before shooting ropes of cum into you groaning your name like it was a prayer.

You dropped back to the bed exhausted and flushed, hair messy, lips slick with Becky’s arousal, and they both looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing they’d ever seen.

You turned on your stomach looking over at the Geordie across the room with a hunger and he smirked, “Did you finish, baby?” He asked, already knowing the answer before you couldshake your head.

He motioned you over with two fingers and you listened, legs shaking as you climbed onto his lap sinking down onto his pulsating cock. A gasped moan left your lips as you dropped your head to his shoulder bouncing on his slowly, “Thank you.” You whispered against his skin.

He placed a tender kiss on your head, hands drawing soft circles into your skin as he guided you gently up and down his dick letting you use him to chase your high.

“Come on, I’ve got you. Let go f’me.”

You came with a cry burying your head deeper into his neck as he stroked your hair softly, “I’ve got you, did s’good baby.”

Becky and Alfie watched the scene in awe, eyes filled with lust and longing as Will carefully pulled you off him making you mewl. He walked over to the bed with you wrapped around him, “Is she okay?” Becky asked, letting Will place you between her and Alfie, her hand instinctively going to your hair stroking it softly.

“M’okay.” You whispered, curling into her side grabbing Alfie’s arm draping it over your waist and he obliged pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder blade.

Will watched with a soft fondness, “I’ll run a bath, yeah?”

You hummed in agreement puckering for a kiss before he left which he granted then disappeared off into the bathroom. The three of you being left once again tangled in one another again, skin on skin in contentment.

taglist: @jamiekluivert @roc-haze @whisperturnedecho @graceln4 @dopeysunflowers @super-gay-for-u @bethorwhateverr @livvymd @lilyyxoii @4ngelrealm @canyouseethesainz @happyclifford @golden-hoax @tatumrileyslover @madforgeorge @wherethezoes-at @themdera @xlovergirlx @smzyyx @bowielovesyou @pretendyoucantseeme @elhotchner @duolingofanaccount @pookietv @ooostarwarsfandom501st @triplefrontierbabe @formulaa-1 @artvscvntymullet

enjoy these photos 😘

[k-k0129]

when did you get hot?

alfie buttle x fem reader

summary: you come home from uni to visit your family and on an impromptu visit to your local pub with some friends you bump into alfie - though he doesn’t look anything like he did in school

a/n: i have not edited this, so if you see any mistakes ignore them or politely let me know! but i hope you enjoy anyways even though it’s probably a complete mess.

main masterlist | masterlist

cw: car sex, riding, switch! alfie, switch! reader, alcohol consumption, smoking (cigarettes), slight overstim. theres anything else let me know!

It was just any other weekend of you visiting home. Seeing your parents for a bit, your mother badgering you about your classes, your father telling her to give you space to breathe. Then it was visiting your grandparents who, like usual, overfed you to the point you thought you were going to burst. So, when Poppy asked if you wanted to go for a drink or two with the rest of the girls you obviously said yes. A quiet night with your girls like old times, just the thing you needed to round out your short trip home.

Harrogate never failed to feel smaller when you came home from Uni, but that familiar buzz of the local you had grown up in pulls you back into your old ways, laughing and mouthing off like you had never left.

You were laughing with Louise behind the bar when you felt him squeeze up next you asking for two pints and vodka lemonade. You turned towards the voice, the face all too familiar but something was different.

Alfie Buttle was stood next to you with a lazy smirk that complimented his sharp, charming features. He looked good, he wasn’t that lanky boy from school anymore.

Instead he stood taller, towering over you, and his shoulders were broader filling out his shirt in a way that made you pause. You physically had to force yourself to turn away from him, but as you did your eyes caught the curve of his bicep as he leaned casually against the bar: when did he get so hot?

“Didn’t think I’d see you back here so soon,” he says, flashing a half-smile that held a cockiness that hadn’t been there before, “yknow going to a fancy uni and that.”

You let out a small laugh, pretending you weren’t suddenly overly aware of how close you were to him, “Yeah, just visiting for the weekend. We should,” you start, and then the lie tumbling out a little too easily, “catch up soon.”

“Sure,” he nodded but the promise is just as empty as yours.

Louise placed down both of your drinks looking between you with a knowing look before shooing you both away. You grabbed your drink, “Well, it was nice seeing you, Alfie.” You flashed him a smile before walking back to your table pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

Alfie turned back to his mates while you rejoin your own. Both of you sitting down on opposite sides of the pubs yet completely taking over each other’s thoughts. Your friends continued chat about their lives and no matter how hard you tried to listen, to engage in the conversation, you kept catching yourself looking across the room.

And each time, his low lidded eyes were already latched onto you.

Hours had passed, you were now a good few vodka cranberries deep and had stepped into the smoking area with one of the girls, the crisp autumn air pouring over you like ice as you left the warm of the pub. As you lit your cigarette, you listened to Poppy’s rambles about a boy from the village she had been speaking to over the last few months and how he is speaking to other girls as well. You were trying so hard to keep up with her fumbling but your mind wa still preoccupied by Alfie, and his arms, and his lips.

“Oh, hi, Alfie.” Poppy greeted, her red hair bouncing as she waved him over.

He slid into the small huddle you had created with a practiced ease standing just close enough so that your arm brushed his when you shifted your weight. The heat radiating off of him was dizzying under the frost of the air. He didn’t say much as Poppy continued her rant, he just glanced between you and the cigarette resting between your lips.

“Mind if I…?” he asked, gesturing to it.

You plucked it from your lips handing it over without a word, fixated on the way his lips curl around the filter, the way his eyes meet yours as he inhaled. Something shifted in the air. Poppy mumbles something about heading back inside, but you barely hear her go.

The silence between the pair of you was vibrating in your ears as you passed the cigarette back and forth for a little while until he leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “You got plans after this?”

You shook your head before you could even process what was about to happen and then within minutes you were stumbling into the back of his Defender with the door clicking shut behind you trapping you against him.

The faint smell of aftershave and pine wrapped around you as you shifted trying to catch your breath but before you could, Alfie’s arms caged you against the seat. His lips crashed against yours with a maddening heat. Every touch sending heat up your spine making you curl into him.

Your fingers tangled in the fabric covering his shoulders, clutching him close as his weight pressed you deeper into the leather. The SUV’s suspension groaning with each shift of his frame, his hands becoming greedier by the second, one pressed into the small of your back pulling you flush against him, the other sliding under the tight fabric of your top. His palm splayed flat across your skin sliding higher until his thumb brushed against the edge of your laced bra.

A low groan escaped his throat as he pressed himself into you, the feeling of his length hardening against you making you gasp. His mouth parted from your, his breath ragged as his mouth trailed lower, crossing your jaw and down the length of your throat leaving marks in his wake. You arched higher into him when his teeth grazed the delicate skin of your collarbone arched into him when his teeth grazed the delicate skin there, and his answer was a low moan against your soft skin.

Suddenly, you were pulled from your lying position and into his lap, your knees bracketing his thighs. The unexpected shift pushed any air from your lungs, and the solid heat of him pressed against yours through denim became impossible to ignore. His large hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding your hips urging you to move against him. The friction made your breath hitch and you tipped your head back against the cool leather of the headrest of the passenger seat as you continued to rock in the clumsy rhythm.

“I’ve always wanted this, yknow,” he murmured against the base of your next, the hand on your hip now at the back of your next as he pulled you into another deeper, filthier kiss. Each movement rushed as your tongues and teeth clashed in dominance. Alfie only winning when his hand slid over the thin lace, the pad of his thumb brushing against your nipple until it pebbled under his touch and your helpless sounds filled the small space of his car.

The windows of the car fogged from the heat that engulfed you, every slight movement making the car shift. Time felt nonexistent against the heat of his mouth and the strength of his grip. The feeling of him bucking up into your clothed heat making quiet gasps slip from your lips, the clothes keeping you from feeling every inch of his body against yours felt unbearable. Each kiss that was peppered on your kiss felt like a sacred promise that was seconds away from spilling from him.

His hands roamed freely as if you were only his to explore, and as your hips rolled in-sync with his, you knew exactly where this was heading and neither of you had any intention of stopping.

The hands under your top moved until they were gripping the hem and you detached from him with a soft whine letting him rip the fabric off your body. Before you could even move, he pushed the fabric of your bra from your tits, and his lips attached themselves to your nipple sucking and licking until unholy words trickled from your mouths and your hands threaded into his hair.

“You’re fucking unreal.” Alfie muttered, his eyes glistening as he stared up at you, “Like an angel.”

You felt your face burn at his compliment suddenly very aware about the situation at hand. His hands fell to your waist, his thumbs drawing mindless shapes as he continued his assault on your nipple making your head drop back between your shoulder blades.

“Fuck,” The breathless word fell from your mouth as your hips ground down making him grip you tighter, “please.”

The plead would’ve went unheard if Alfie’s every sense wasn’t focused on you buy the second it met his ears; he swung into action. He shifted positions, moving you to lay along the back bench once again and he tugged his shirt off his frame rolling it into a ball and slotting it under your head which made your heart melt.

Then he moved to his buckle and his button, and suddenly you were grateful that you had chosen a skirt tonight. Alfie’s roughs found the fat of your thighs massaging into them lightly making you mewl, and with each sound he travelled closer to where you want him the most.

His fingers slipped around the waist band of your matching lace underwear, and he pulled them down not needing anymore permission when you lifted your hips to give him access.

They fell to the floor of his car and he stared at you for a moment. Your hair haloing your head, body glistening with sweaty under the moonlight that filtered the car, almost completely bare for him.

“I can’t believe this is real,” He muttered, his hands tracing your outline as he took in everything that was happening.

Your hands ran up his torso outlining every inch of his body before meeting his shoulders, “Kiss me, please.”

Alfie groaned at your words, the pure want and need in your voice going straight to his dick making it throb. His lips attached to yours again and he caged your head between his arms, his biceps inches away from your face. Your hands slid from his shoulders, nails biting into the muscles of his arms and your legs wrapped themselves around his waist pulling him down.

Taking the hint, Alfie reached between you flicking up your skirt and his fingers slid over your hole which was dripping, “Shit.”

“Just fuck me.”

A breath hitched in his throat as his throat bobbed with a gulp, and he nodded lining up his leaking tip with your heat. A needy gasp fell on his ears as he slid in slowly making your back arch into him locking against him like a jigsaw, “Fuck,” you gritted.

“You okay?” He whispered, his thumb wiping away a small tear that fell from your eye, “We can stop.”

“Just,” You whimpered, “Just keep going, please.”

He nodded bucking into you once again making you bite down on your lip trying to keep the noise that were bubbling in your throat at bay, “Don’t go quiet on me now, princess.”

Your eyes screwed shut as your lips parted a moan leaving your mouth before you could even process it. Each of his thrusts hitting right where you need it, your nails dug so deep into his skin that you were scared you’d break skin. Quickly, your hands unlatched from his biceps and scrapped along his abs making him hiss at the sensation.

His arms moved from the leather of the seats and he scooped you up in one movement moving to sit back and you placed delicately on his lap, “So fucking pretty.” He muttered, his hands cupping your tits as you slid off his dick before dropping back down again followed by a string of unintelligible words from Alfie as he tipped his head back letting you take over.

Your hips rolled forwards as your lips met the soft skin under his ear, and he shivered pulling you close feeling you smile against his skin, “C’mon girl, show me what you can do.” He muttered against your hairline.

You straightened at his words looping your hands around his neck rolling your hips once again before bouncing slightly, his cock rubbing against your gspot making you mewl quietly as you continued your pace chasing the high you had been thinking about since you locked eyes in the pub.

“Keep doing that,” He whimpered, one his hands fondling your tit as the other wrapped itself around your neck, adding no pressure just sitting there.

You couldn’t deny that he looked pretty like this. His curls a mess from your hands, his lips plumb and red from his hungry attacks on you, and his eyes doey and soft as you made his melt like putty in your hands. If every boy you fucked looked like this, you wouldn’t stop.

“You’re so pretty like this,” You muttered into his ears as you leaned forward making him whimper, “So pretty for me.”

You pulled away slightly looking down at him and he was staring back in a haze. His lips were puckered politely inviting you for a kiss and you obliged swallowing the soft moans that were continuously tumbling from his lips with each roll of his lips.

“I’m so close,” he managed to gasp out as he squeezed your waist holding you impossibly close to his chest moving his hips in time with yours as you both felt the pressure build at the bottom of your stomachs, “please.”

“Wait,” You whispered, “wait for me.”

He nodded, his bottom lip jutting out as your hand fell from his shoulder finding your swollen, neglected clit as your leaned back fitting into the slot of the front seats. Alfie continued to drill himself into you as your fingers clumsily swirled your clit making your moans grow louder.

Watching your every movement, the way your hips lifted when his tip scrapped the right spot and the way you twitched with each swirl of your fingers. He reached out pushing your hand away from your cunt replacing it with his own, his thumb firm against the sensitive area.

“Fuck, Alfie.” Your hips bucked, squeezing against him tightly making him hiss, “I’m gonna come.”

You pounced forward leaning your forehead against his peppering kiss on his face as your bodies moved in unison, both of you chasing the same thing.

“I can’t,” Alfie whimpered, his eyebrows furrowing, “I’m gonna come, please.”

“It’s okay, baby,” You reassured, brushing his damp curls out of his face as you nodded, “Let go for me.”

You both rutted against each other in a desperate attempt to finish and Alfie seed spurted into you as he let out a groan that echoed through the car and he went limp under you. You stilled your movements, placing a soft kiss on his cheek bone and you went to remove yourself from his lap but his hands latched to your thighs before you could.

“You didn’t finish.”

He looked up at you with in a fucked-out daze and you smiled, “It’s okay, don’t worry.”

“No,” He muttered, “keep going.”

Your eyes widened as you stuttered over your words, “Are you sure?”

“Please.”

“Okay.”

You started to move your hips against him again, his limp cock hardening inside you again as his sounds of discomfort turned into whines of pleasure, his hands guiding you along his as his thumb circled your clit expertly, “that feels, fuck.”

His mouth dropped open and his noises spurred you on even more as the knot in your stomach started to build again with each thrust into you, “doing so good, fuck.”

Your words turned into babbles as your orgasm washed over you, your body went limp against Alfie’s, and he lifted you carefully sliding himself out of you making you whine at the loss.

“I’m gonna take you back to mine, okay?” He asked, brushing your hair over your shoulder pressing a soft kiss there and you nodded.

“I’d like that yeah.”

He gave you a lopsided smile before reaching into the boot grabbing his discarded clothes and a hoodie, he always kept there handing it to you with a chaste kiss on your lips that had you smiling like a fool.

taglist: @jamiekluivert @roc-haze @whisperturnedecho @graceln4 @dopeysunflowers @super-gay-for-u @bethorwhateverr @livvymd @lilyyxoii @4ngelrealm @canyouseethesainz @happyclifford @golden-hoax @tatumrileyslover @wherethezoes-at @themdera @xlovergirlx @smzyyx @bowielovesyou @pretendyoucantseeme @elhotchner @duolingofanaccount @pookietv @ooostarwarsfandom501st @triplefrontierbabe @formulaa-1 @willnees @sdmnpact @italianclarke

[k-k0129]

Of course no pressure to, but if you would be willing to write for ChrisMD could I request a fic where he flirts with the Reader a lot and with this prompt "If you weren't so cute you'd be annoying" said by the Reader. If you decide to not write this that is absolutely fine, or if you just don't want to write for ChrisMD you could write this for Miniminter instead. Thank you❤️❤️

Wait. Pause. (ChrisMD X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Youtubers

Requested: Clearly (I fricking love him PLEASE SEND MORE)

Warnings: Drunk Confessions, bit of blood/roadburn

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1781

Summary: No one said Pub Golf was going to be easy.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

“If you weren’t so cute, you’d be annoying,” You blurted out, and everyone went silent. Sometimes you hated how, when drunk, you have literally no filter, especially when it was around your best friend-turned crush. 

You could barely remember how you got in this situation.

~~

It started with a text from Chip. Harry had backed out of a pub golf video at the last second, and you were his last resort. Unfortunate that you were the last resort, but you wouldn’t let that hit your ego. It was your day off and you had been casually drinking before then. You didn’t think it could be that bad.

It was that bad.

By hole 2, you were definitely swaying. Chris had taken to wrapping an arm around your waist and making sure you didn’t fall. 

On the way to the third pub, Freezy asked one of the camera guys to follow you two specifically, and they caught one of the conversations between you.

“You’re like…really hot,” Chris said, leaning his head against your shoulder. “You’re like unfairly hot.”

“Thank you, Chris.” You blushed and gently pushed against him, but not hard enough to make him move.

“I’m not even that drunk right now,” he defended, pulling back to look at you. “I just think you’re perfect.”

“Chris, I think you’re a little drunk right now.” You chuckled as you all made it to the next pub, so the camera guy had to go film the whole group.

Someone handed Arthur a 360 camera, and all he did with it was set it in front of you two to catch the next drunken conversation.

“You know, if you were a drink,” Chris started as he leaned closer to you, your thighs and sides touching, “you would be fine wine, and I just wanna sip you slowly-wait. Pause. That came out wrong.”

“I think you made your point clear,” You rolled your eyes.

“Let me try again,” Chris said before clearing his throat as the next shots were brought out and set in front of you all. He looked straight at the small glass, smelled it, and set it down before hitting his hand against the table, gaining the attention of everyone at the table. “Are you made of tequila? Because you’re making me all dizzy.”

“I’d argue that was worse than the fine wine one,” You chuckled as your heart beat just a little faster. He is drunk, you reminded yourself over and over again, he doesn’t mean it. But maybe he did?

Between holes 3 and 4, Chris offered to carry you. Not because you were struggling to walk, no.

“You could walk,” He trailed off, “Or I could sweep you off your feet. Literally.” He didn’t give you much time to answer before he bent down and basically picked you up on his back. “I’d carry you off into the sunset if we didn’t have a pub golf video to film.”

He promptly fell about six feet later.

“So,” He dragged out for a second as he looked back at you from over his shoulder. “You trying to get us horizontal or what?” “You carried me like a prince,” You started as you stood up and dusted your knees off. Then you grabbed his hand to help him up. “You also dropped me like my ex, so you’ve got range.”

“Ouch, right in my heart,” Chris cried dramatically as he clutched his heart and leaned away from you, almost falling back onto the ground. And he would have! Had you not reached out to grab him, wrapping an arm around his waist a second too late, and falling once again but on top of him this time. “Wow, looks like you fell for me this time.”

“Oh my god, are you okay?” You gasped, pushing yourself up a little.

“My pride is bruised,” Chris winked at you, “My ass? Not sure yet. You wanna check it out for me?”

You sent him a half-laugh, half-groan. “Only if you return the favor. I think I landed on my dignity…and my elbow.”

“Oh shit,” he shot up, bonking his head against yours in his race to check out your arm. “Double shit.”

“You are such a dumbass,” You said in disbelief as a couple of breathy laughs escaped your lips.

“But I’m your dumbass, right?” He questioned, sending big eyes and a pout your way. “You can’t say no to this face.”

“You literally fell twice in 30 seconds, hurt my arm and gave me a concussion,” You deadpanned, “I’m not claiming you.”

“Yet,” Chris added with a smile and finger guns. You just rolled your eyes before standing up, and inspecting your roadburn covered arm. “Damn, that looks bad. Want me to kiss it to make it better?”

You took a deep breath before muttering with a laugh, “If you weren’t so cute, you’d be annoying.” Time stopped. Everyone stopped. It felt like all of your friends completely stopped talking and they were all looking at you.

Chris looked at you with wide eyes and his jaw was practically on the floor. You couldn’t meet his eyes. No way. How could you face him after saying that?

You could hear your heartbeat in your head, mocking you. Why would you say anything? You were completely fine with being friends, so why did you decide now was the time to lay it all out? 

“Are you serious?” Chris finally said after what felt like forever, causing you to snap over to him. Now, you could either lie and save whatever is left of your dignity or confess and either ruin a friendship or start a relationship. Honestly, you weren't sure you were ready to take that risk.

“About you being annoying? Yes, 100 percent,” You decided to say, but Chris just shook his head as he took a step closer to you.

By now, you were chest to chest. You could feel his breath fanning against your face every couple of seconds, and it made you nervous. Your eyes darted around to your friends, who were all trying their best not to look at you and failing miserably, but conveniently, every single camera was pointed at you two. 

Chris grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him. You tried to look anywhere else, but one look in his eyes, and you were done. You licked your lips nervously before deciding to go all the way.

Except, you couldn’t.

Everyone’s eyes were on you, and when you opened your mouth, nothing came out. Your eyes teared up as your heart raced and your breathing sped up, not because of Chris. Just the number of people watching you. Your eyes darted around, suddenly feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on you. 

“I-I can’t,” You stammered, pulling back and trying to cover your face from the eyes, the cameras, from Chris. He quickly wrapped an arm around your waist, so you couldn’t get too far from him. But he still made sure there was space between you. Your head snapped around, and this time, Chris noticed.

“Ignore them,” Chris whispered, moving to place himself between you and all of your friends. “Just focus on me.”

“Just forget what I said,” You muttered back, trying to shake his hands off of you. It felt too suffocating. “It was stupid anyway.”

“No,” Chris interrupted as he tightened his grip slightly, “Say it again.”

“Chris-”

“No. Say it back,” He cut you off with a soft intensity that you knew only he had. It wasn’t intimidating to you. “I need to know that you’re not afraid of what I’ll say back.”

“I…I can’t,” You stuttered before swallowing hard and biting back some of the tears. “I don’t think I can yet.”

“Yet,” Chris pointed out with an optimistic smile. He was trying to cheer you up, and the attempt made a small, weak smile spread across your lips. Honestly, it made your knees weak, but you just couldn’t say it. Not yet. “But I’ll wait as long as you need. And just so you know, I feel the same way.”

“You do?” You gasped lightly as your breath was taken away.

“If how you feel is that I’m super cute, yes,” Chris smiled before thinking for a second, as his smile slowly faded from his face. “Wait. Pause. I don’t find me super cute. That came out wrong. I meant you’re super cute.”

“So I didn’t ruin everything?” You asked through a grimace. This was where everything would go downhill. You had a feeling.

“Well, duh,” Chris deadpanned, and your heart dropped. Your breath got caught in your throat as you looked back around at everyone with more tears in your eyes. You bit your lip as you furiously wiped at your face and pushed away from Chris.

“I’m going home,” You muttered, not waiting for a response before walking the opposite way from the group. Behind you, you heard a couple of your friends calling after you before you rounded the corner. 

And just as you were out of the sight of all of your friends, you were spun around and backed against the wall with someone’s lips crashing against yours. 

Your eyes widened before recognizing Chris’s hair, so you relaxed completely between him and the wall. This time, your heart raced for a different reason until you remembered why you were leaving in the first place. You gently pushed Chris away, but still kept your hand resting on his shoulder as you just stared at him.

He took a deep breath before squeezing your size before muttering, “I don’t think I can say anything right today. I meant it as in yeah, it ruined our friendship, but I hoped it meant we would start something different. I just suck at words.”

“Clearly,” You chuckled, moving to leave a quick peck on his cheek. “Do better.”

“I will when I’m not six shots deep.” Chris chuckled before turning his head to catch your lips in a searing kiss. After a couple of beats, he realized, “Will we even remember this tomorrow?”

“I better,” You snapped, pulling back like he shocked you. “I still have a raging roadburn that says you fell for me!”

“Oh, right,” He trailed off, looking back at your arm, which was still dripping a little bit of blood. “I should help you clean that up.”

“You better or else you're starting off as the worst boyfriend ever.”

“Please, I already dropped you once,” Chris joked as he grabbed your hand and led you back towards the main street to grab a taxi or Uber. “Can I even go lower?”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2025. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[k-k0129]

ONE WITH NATURE ── a.buttle ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

summary : where you and alfie take some time away notes : i’ve really been cracking down on the AB fics recently i feel like there’s barely any on here (there is i’ve just read them all 20 million times) but i don’t rlly like this one i feel like my writing could’ve been better :/ content : established relationship ,, recording of sexual content ,, oral (m & f receiving) ,, penetration ,, praise kink ,, belly bulge taglist : @italianclarke @clarkeyscherry @luvdixon @sdmnpact @wherethezoes-at @willnees @loveheart-123 @bambidollstar

─────── A QUIET, SERENE retreat was very much so needed by the pair of you, so when Alfie bought it up, you agreed immediately and had your bags packed by the next day. It was nothing special or fancy, just a couple nights at a camp sight that barely anyone knew about.

You’d tried to help him put the tent up, but the metal poles were too heavy and your wrist started to ache after hammering two pegs into the ground. You ended up sitting in the car, watching him and talking idly as he did the rest.

Alfie set up the furniture inside, a little table and chair set and the blow up bed, whilst you put up the fairy lights and organised the things that needed to be out, for example bowls and cutlery.

You had managed to time things quite perfectly, as once you’d grabbed your bags from the boot and brought them into the tent, rain started lashing down and the wind picked up.

“Well, I ain’t goin’ out for a piss in that.” You stated, standing with your hands on your hips as you admired the set up.

It was cozy, like a mini grotto but in a pack-away-able structure.

“Yeah, just use me, girl.” Alfie joked, opening his mouth wide.

You side-eyed him humorously, “That’s disgusting.”

“Right, I’m getting my pjs— oh no!” You exclaimed as realisation dawned on you.

“What? What’s wrong?” He frowned, looking over at you as you were in the bedroom compartment.

“I packed my really tiny pjs.” You pouted, holding up the green mesh fabric.

It was a little shorts and tank top set with embroidered pink roses on it, way too thin and minuscule to keep you warm.

Alfie’s eyes widened, “When the fuck did you buy that?” He walked up to you, taking the set into his own hands. “Reader, there’s no way that’s pyjamas.”

“You don’t like it?” You jutted your bottom lip out.

“I fuckin’ love it. Why’ve you been hiding this little number from me? Fuckin’ hell, girl.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise.” You sighed, “Like, I’d wear them on a special occasion.”

“Take this as a special occasion then. Merry Christmas or whatever the next holiday is.”

“Halloween, Alf.” You smirked in amusement, “And I cant, I’ll be too cold.”

“Wear my hoodie then.”

The image of you in those shorts that just about classed as clothing and one of his hoodies made him harden, scratching the back of his head.

“Okay.” You said, changing out of your tracksuit into the little scraps of fabric.

The mesh did absolutely nothing to keep your chest hidden from view, nipples poking out due to the borderline-freezing temperature. You kept your white, cotton knickers on underneath, just in case you really did need to go outside to use the toilet — you didn’t fancy flashing the entire campsite your vagina.

Alfie bit his lip, sat on the inflatable couch as you came out of the bedroom compartment.

“Hoodie, now.” You shivered, standing there with your knees pressed together, bouncing up and down on the balls of your feet to try and keep your blood flowing.

He laughed, pulling his hoodie over his head and handing it to you. You wasted no time putting it on, and it fell to your mid-thigh, making it look like it was the only thing you were wearing.

Alfie sat there, shirtless and in grey joggers and you curled up beside him.

“Did you plug the big extension into the socket we’ve got outside?” You asked, toying with your iPad charger.

“Yeah, you can turn the little lights on now.”

You reached over him, putting your iPad on charge and plugging the lights in so they lit up above you in a little arch-way.

“Cute.” You grinned happily.

He grabbed the pasta pots you’d bought from Tesco, handing one to you while he had the other.

“Aren’t you cold?” You asked, looking at the fact he was half dressed.

Alfie grabbed you, gently lifting you and putting you on his lap so you were cuddled against his chest, “Not anymore.”

The two of you ate dinner like this, talking when your mouths weren’t full. It was a lovely change to the busyness that you usually faced when you were at the Grotto. You barely got to see each other nowadays, as he was doing shoots and podcast episodes in London when you were around, and then he’d be home while you were working. The timing just wasn’t working in your favour. But now, you had four days to be stuck to each others side.

When your meals were consumed, you stayed up for a little while longer before getting into bed. Alfie nearly fell backwards while sitting on the air mattress as he didn’t expect it to be so low down. You cackled as you got in beside him.

“I’m so cold.” You whined, shivering and entangling your legs with his to try and steal some of his body heat.

“Want me to warm you up?” He smirked, snaking his hand under your (his) hoodie and splaying it over your chest.

“Is that an offer?” You replied with a flirty tone, subtly grinding back on him.

You looked back at him over your shoulder, and he was giving you this dark, lustful glare. He licked his lips, bringing them to yours. You hummed against his mouth, arm reaching back to caress the back of his head.

He pulled his hands out of your hoodie to turn you over so you were facing him. You straddled his lap, fingers dancing tantalisingly over the sensitive skin of his neck, all whilst he pushed his tongue into your mouth.

Alfie’s fingers found the hair on the back of your head, tugging them teasingly. You moaned softly and he dragged his lips down your neck, pushing you closer to him and sucking on the spot beneath your jawline.

“Please— Alf— let me suck you off.” You begged breathily, looking down at him.

“Fuck, angel, you think I’ll ever say no to that?”

You giggled, making your way down his body when an idea popped into mind. You bit down on your lip, really contemplating it before reaching over for your phone and thrusting it into his hands.

You sat between his legs, on your knees, looking at him expectantly.

“What? You want me to film it?” He asked.

You nodded, toying with the waistband of his boxers that was on show.

He smirked to himself before situating your phone in his hand comfortably, switching to the camera. The faint glow of the fairy lights added a sense of intimacy to the scene.

You pawed at him through his joggers before pulling them down with his boxers simultaneously. You nearly moaned at the sight of him, hard and ready for your mouth.

You reached your hands behind you, scrunching your hair into a ponytail and holding it out of the way before licking a long stripe from base to tip. Alfie groaned, enjoying the sight of you holding your own hair back, but knowing that it wasn’t practical.

With his free hand, he took your hair, fisting it tightly. You could see the veins popping in his forearm, and it only made you want him more. You lowered onto him, mouth encasing him. He cursed lowly, pushing himself back into the airbed so he didn’t fall for the urge to start thrusting into your mouth.

You took him as deep as you could, tears pricking in your eyes as your throat bulged. When you pulled off, you were panting but still eager. You took his tip into your mouth, sucking on it and flicking your tongue at the underside of his head.

He couldn’t resist, his hips leaving the mattress and bullying his length into your mouth properly. You gagged before moaning.

“Shit, sorry— Wait … You liked that?”

You pulled off with a wet pop, nodding, “Yeah.”

“You’re sure?” Alfie double-checked, making you chuckle softly.

“I’m sure.”

Alfie then pushed into your mouth again, thrusting at a steady pace. You hollowed your cheeks and swirled your tongue, reminding him that you were no less enthusiastic and excited about this than he was.

You looked up at the camera with dilated pupils and a few tears spilling down your cheeks. Alfie thought you were the most beautiful girl ever — not because you were like this, on your knees and pliant, but because you loved him. Genuine, heart felt love that wasn’t a performance for cameras or online clout.

You loved him. Through and through. All day, every day.

His hand left your hair, letting it spill down your back like a waterfall of locks, all so he could bring it to your cheek, running his thumb along your cheekbone, caressing it lightly.

You could feel him begin to twitch, his face making subtle changes as he grunted, his tip nudging the back of your throat repetitively.

“Fuck … Y’gonna swallow?”

You nodded.

“Good girl.” He muttered, just before releasing hot ropes of salty liquid against your tongue.

Your throat flexed around him, contracting as you swallowed as promised. Making sure you got everything, you swiped your fingers over your lips when you pulled off, sucking on them.

“My turn.” Alfie grunted, putting the phone down and picking up effortlessly, placing you on your back. “Film this too.”

“Really?” Your face practically lit up.

You’d really wanted to make a sex tape with Alfie for a while now. There was just something so thrilling and exciting about the knowledge that both of your camera rolls would share the same, filthy video.

You faced the camera towards him, capturing the way his kissed down your stomach with teasing licks before removing the remaining clothes on your lower half.

“Pass it.” Alfie gestured for the phone.

You frowned in confusion, handing it to him anyway. Using one hand, he took your phone, and with the other, he brought your fingers between your legs.

“Spread yourself, angel.” He ordered softly, pointing the camera perfectly.

The flash reflected off of your folds, wet and glistening. You breathed shakily before spreading them with two fingers, biting your lips.

“Atta girl, look at you.” He whispered, reaching his fingers out himself, “Fucking gorgeous. aren’t you? All wet like this.”

You blushed, pulling your fingers away as he took over, fingers spreading you apart while his thumb flicked out, pressing firmly against your clit.

Your whole body jolted, knees bending and coming up slightly in reaction to the raw contact.

He passed the phone back to you, and once he was sure you had the camera angled correctly, he leant forwards, licking straight up your centre and sucking harshly on your clit.

You moaned breathily, free hand twitching to do something. It found solace tangled up in his curls, pushing them back from his forehead so the camera could catch the lustful, dominant stare as he looked up at you.

He pulled off and then sucked again, the sound filling the small space of the bedroom compartment. The air in the tent was thick with desire and wantonness.

Alfie’s tongue traced your clit tantalisingly before licking quickly and precisely. Your toes curled up at the constant stimulation, not leaving you or himself any breathing space.

Your hands left his hair, unable to be still as energy and fire cracked through your every vein. He adjusted so your legs were properly propped up over his shoulders, his hand snaking up your waist and latching onto yours.

Your fingers entwined at your stomach, his massive hand smothering your much smaller one drastically.

His tongue slowed again for a few moments before picking up its pace again. Your eyes fluttered back, harsh gasps escaping your mouth as your back arched, heels digging into his back.

“That good for you?” He hummed against you, the vibrations of his reverberating words flickering through you, making you moan loudly.

You nodded enthusiastically.

“Words, angel. Tell me how you feel.”

“So good.” You whispered, squeezing his hands tightly. “Fuck, Alfie—“

You turned your head to the side, letting out a string of unfiltered whimpers as you felt that familiar tightness in your core. Your legs trembled around his head as you reached your peak, waves of pleasure causing trembles to ripple through you as you rolled your hips, grinding up into his mouth while simultaneously pushing his head down.

“Shit.” Alfie pulled back with a shit-eating grin. “You better hope the camera picked up on all those moans ‘cause I’m definitely wanking to that shit when you’re away.”

He took the phone back, making sure to have your entire body in frame, he wedged his hips between yours, keeping you spread wide. With one hand, he bunched up the hem of your his hoodie, pushing it up so it rested beneath your chin and your breasts were free.

His thumb swiped over one before pinching it and letting it bounce back.

“You alright?” He double-checked, lifting each thigh individually and positioning them spread eagle.

You nodded, hooking your hands under your knees to hold your legs out the way.

“Fuck,” He groaned, “Good girl.” And then placed his fingers in your mouth, “Suck for me.”

You did as he said, making sure to stare at the camera while doing so, getting his fingers wet. He pulled them out of your mouth, swiping over your lips playfully, drawing out a giggle from you.

He put his fingers between your legs, your breath hitching at the initial contact, a light moan escaping your mouth as he pushed them in.

“That’s it, always so good for me, hm?” Alfie’s voice was raspy and low, only making you even more wet.

You nodded, wanting to please him as he was doing to you, so you bucked your hips, trying to nudge against his cock.

“Desperate for it, are you?” He removed his fingers from your hole, which were now wet for reasons entirely different to your saliva, rubbing your clit momentarily before wrapping his hand around himself, “Ready? Hold your legs f’me.”

As Alfie pushed in, it punched a loud moan from your throat, fingernails digging crescent-shaped dents into your skin. He kept his pace slow and steady as you adjusted around him, gasping at the initial stretch.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t had sex before, it was just that every time, you forgot that Alfie was packing like crazy (well, not forgot, you could never forget that). His hand splayed across your stomach gently, his thumb returning to your clit to rub in pleasuring motions. Your eyebrows furrowed, jaw hanging open wide as he started to pick up the pace.

His thrusts became relentless and pounding, his hips slamming into yours. You threw your head back, eyes squeezed shut as you focused on the feeling of him so deep inside you. It was almost like you could feel every inch of him, every ridge, every vein.

“Shit, you feel amazing.” Alfie groaned, keeping his speed steady and persistent.

He zoomed the camera in to the lewd scene between your legs where you connected, the flashlight perfectly showing the way his cock was coated with your wetness every time he pulled out before sliding back in.

His tip nudged your g-spot, making you cry out, one hand leaving the back of your knee to scrunch the pillow beneath your head. You felt his palm weigh heavier on your stomach, pressing down on the surface. The pressure deepened, a strangled moan leaving your mouth, partnering with the rapid plap, plap, plap noise that filled the small compartment.

“Look at that.” He said, hand grabbing the top of your head to lift it off the pillow, “I’m so fuckin’ deep.”

Your vision was hazy, blurred by the overwhelming pleasure that incessantly built up in your stomach. You managed to focus on what he saw, noting the faint outline of him through your stomach.

You whimpered, clenching around him as he pressed down once more while consistently smacking against that spongy spot inside of you.

Your toes curled up to the point of nearing on painful as he sheathed himself fully inside you, letting out a groan of your name as he finished.

“I-I can’t again, Alf— I can’t—“

“Yes you can.” Alfie muttered, continuing to rock into you.

His fingers found your clit, rubbing swift circles over it.

“Ohhh fuckkk..” You cried out, the entirety of your body shaking with little tremors, but mainly your legs.

Your panting became louder and more intense, gasping out his name as you spasmed around him, legs trembling as they fell slack.

He stayed buried within you for a short while, finally pulling out once he was sure you were alright. Sweat glistened on your skin, chest rising and falling rapidly.

Alfie stopped the recording, dropping your phone back on the side and helped you dress again, putting you in his hoodie and some underwear. He dressed himself in some joggers before lifting you so you were splayed completely across his chest, your hearts pounding against each others rib cage.

He kissed you sweetly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“That video goes nowhere.” You slur.

“As if I’m letting anyone see you like that.” Alfie scoffed, wrapping his arms around you.

[k-k0129]

Can you please do a fic where the reader and George Clarke absolutely hate each other they always argue but she’s best friends with Chris, and she goes on a night out her girl friends leave her and she’s drunk and scared men are hitting on her hard so decides to ring Chris but he’s asleep and George answers his phone and comes picks you up it ends up them two arguing but also something where they hook up (wether that’s the same night or different) please??

the ending to this feels almost rushed but i know i've promised this a few times... let me know what you think!

"come on."

the words come out of yn's mouth as a low grumble but it was loud enough to catch the attention of the guy stood beside her in the pub's smoking area. the time on her phone said it was quarter to two in the morning, the street on the otherside of the road was empty and baron of people walking passed, and the pub was becoming less and less busy as people got into their taxi's and uber's and went off home to nurse hangovers in the morning.

yet, here she was.

stuck in the middle of the london, all by herself and in a vulnerable state, as she tried to call the one guy she wanted to see in her moment of need. her best friend. who was, no doubt, asleep because he was sensible and chose to stay in that night rather than spending it getting drunk.

"everything okay?"

"yeah," she mumbles it lowly to show her disinterest, her eyes staring at the screen of the phone in her hand as she scrolled through all of her contacts to find christopher dixon's home number because calling him mobile number hadn't worked, "i just can't get hold of a friend, i kind of need him right now."

"can i be of any assistance?"

"no," she responds bluntly and she could feel the way he was taken aback by her abrupt answer, "i just want to go home. my friends have left me here by myself, i have no way of getting home and no one wants to answer their phones to help me."

"it is almost two in the morning."

"yeah, i know that," she scoffs it out sarcastically and she rolls her eyes, landing on the home landline to chris' flat, "no offence but i don't need any company right now. cheers but-"

"not just gon'a leave a pretty girl in a pub by herself," the guy says and, for the first time since she heard his voice, she looked at him - dressed in jeans that were too tight for his legs and a shirt that he definitely chose in hopes to pick up girls with the way he had his muscles on show - as she held her phone to her ear and listened to the dial tone beep through the speaker as the other end rung through the flat, "i'll take you home."

"yeah... no thanks," she shook her head, her face contorted with a look of pure disgust at the repulsive invitation he was insinuating; what had started out as a girl's night was always going to end as a girl's night, not leaving with a bloke she had never met before and waking up in an unknown bed the next morning. "We all know how that invitation ends and i'm not after that, thanks."

"oh, come on-"

"no," she shook her head and took a step to the side, furthering herself away from him to give him a hint of how she was over being nice to him and how she was over the conversation that she never wanted to start. her attention turning towards the phone that was warm against her ear. "answer the phone, idiot."

as she was about to give up and press the red button in the bottom corner, coming to terms with the fact that he was most probably asleep and completely dead to the world, the sound of someone picking up brought some comfort to her racing mind.

"hello?"

"chris, it's yn."

"newsflash, it's george. you know, one of the other guys who lives in this flat and got rudely woken up by this call."

"oh."

she gulps thickly, the lump in her throat aching, and she really wished she hadn't bothered. it wasn't that she hated goerge; it was the exact opposite... he hated her, for some reason, and she had no idea why. she wanted nothing more to be friends with him, making it three out of three successful friendships that she'd made through chris... except he was having none of it.

"i'm so sorry, i just-"

"i told you, babe, you can always come back with me."

yn's eyebrows furrowed as she tried to hold back the upset tears that were threatening to spill from how scared she was, the interruption making her lose her train of thought, and it was only when george spoke down the line that she felt a little intimidated.

"who's that?"

"just some guy-"

"is he bothering you?"

yn sighs and takes a glance out of the corner of her eye, checking to see if the guy was still standing close to her, already knowing that he was listening intently to her conversation and hadn't any plans to go elsewhere.

"yeah, a little," she responds and, on the other end of the line, she could hear him rustling around and moving in a pace that she could tell was quick and in a rush, "i just, my friends left me alone in this pub round the corner from waterloo and i'm all by myself right now and the pub is closing and i'm out the front and he's just here and i don't know who he is and-"

"okay, alright. i'm coming to get you, okay?"

"i don't want to be a bother, george," she heard him grunt back in response to her and she could feel a tear slip down her cheek, "i was trying to get hold of chris but-"

"chris would rip my bollocks off if he knew i didn't help you when you called. especially when you're on your own in london, drunk, with some creep standing with you."

"but-"

"i'm leaving now, okay? send me your location and i'll be there as soon as i can, yeah?"

she couldn't tell if it was the happiness to know she was being looked after or whether it was the scared feeling that had overcome her - or both - but she struggled to keep back the tears that were burning her eyes.

"thank you, george."

it came out as a wet sob and she didn't care if anyone who looked at her and thought she was too drunk and weird. her previous problem of being hit on by someone she'd never met before, the same guy, didn't seem to want to leave her as he slowly sipped on the pint he had poured into a plastic cup.

"just stay safe until i get there, okay? go find a bouncer or someone from the staff and just say your taxi is on its way. stay away from the guy who's bothering you and keep to places where people can see you."

-

"yn?"

her head snapped up from where she was staring at her phone, to see george walking quickly down the street , his hoodie pulled over his head and he'd matched loose cotton shorts with it yet skipped out on pulling socks on as he opted for sliders, because he was in a rush to leave the house and had no time for trainers.

"yn. that's such a pretty name," she heard the guy say but she was no longer interested in anything he had to say, moving from her place on the bench she had chosen to wait upon and grasping the strap of her bag upon her shoulder, "oh, babe, it's a shame you chose him over me. he's got nothing to give you."

george felt his fists curl up under his sleeves yet he chose to not make the situation worse for her.

"when a girl says no to you, she means no," george calls out over to him, staring with a look of dark anger behind his eyes, "back off and maybe try being less of a creep, lurking around drunk girls, and you might just get lucky."

"george-"

"come on," he grabs her hand and tugs her away from the direction of the pub, desperate to get her away from the stare of the guy that was bothering her, "why the hell didn't you call any of us sooner? you were there for how long, by yourself, before you realised?"

"not long," she admits, "i'd only just realised as they were kicking us all out. i went to look for them at the booth we were in and they'd left."

"how many times have we told you to not hang around with those girls? they've been nothing but trouble for you," he reminds her and she rolls her eyes, legs burning from trying to keep up with his long strides back to the tube station, "what kind of friends do that to their other friends? bad friends, yn. they're not your friends-"

"i'm not a child, george," she interrupts him and pulls her hand free from his grip, standing still in the middle of the pavement as he came to a halt from her sudden movement, "don't speak me to like i am one."

he sighs heavily and brings his hands to his face, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips before dropping his arms back down to his sides, watching as she swayed to and fro from the way her world must have been spinning from alcohol.

"alright," he held his hands up in surrender, "i'm sorry."

"you should be," she retorts, "stupid."

"don't backchat me like a teenager and i won't speak to you like a child," he insists and turns on his heels, wanting to hop back into the warmth of the underground station and get back home as soon as possible, "now come on, i want to go home."

"my home. take me home and then go home yourself."

"no, my home," george calls back, hearing her scuffing behind as she tried to keep up with his pace so she wasn't left behind and out of his sight, "i'm gonna look after you, you can have my bed, and you can talk to chris in the morning because he's gonna have some choice words for those girls."

"i don't need you to make me feel worse."

"i'm not trying to make you feel worse."

"you are."

"yn," george sighs, "i'm too tired to argue with you, okay? can we just, we just need to get on the tube, do a couple of stops, then we're home. i'll argue with you tomorrow."

"i don't want to argue with you anymore," she frowns, "i just want to be friends with you. i don't like it when you're angry all the time with me. i've done nothing to you to make you treat me so badly."

"we are friends, idiot."

"no, we aren't. you're always moaning at me, you never say anything nice to me. i'm surprised you even came to get me," yn says, "only you, george. every other one of chris' friend's like me... television is my favourite but you-"

"i do like you, yn," george sighs heavily, "but this is a conversation we don't need to be having in the middle of the road, outside the train station."

"i want to have this conversation-"

"no," george shakes his head, "it's a conversation for when you're sober and not full of whatever alcohol you've ended up spilling down yourself."

he stares at her for a moment and she squints her eyes back at him, in a feigned annoyed look, feeling the chill in the air and the alcohol mixing in her system and as well as her belly. and she couldn't bring it in her to argue even more.

"fine."

-

yn stumbles through the front door and into the darkness of the flat belonging to the boys and she was thankful she wore flats opposed to the heels that were her second choice shoe for the night. a click of the lock filled the quiet as george closed the front door behind him, keys jingling with his keyrings as he dropped them in the bowl in the entryway, shuffling further into the room. as she slid her shoes off, not knowing where she was leaving them, a lamp flicked on and she took in the living space around her.

"you could have taken me home."

"not a chance," george grumbles lowly, shrugging off the over-layer he chose to brave the night air and draped it over the back of the sofa in the middle of the room, "i think chris would have murdered me in my sleep."

"i wanted to go home."

"and i wanted to get a full night's sleep but here we are," george shrugs his shoulders and she folds her arms across her chest, like a child in a tantrum, "you can have my bed, i'll sleep on the sofa."

"george-"

"please don't argue with me, okay? i'm giving you my bed, don't make me change my mind," he warns her and the interruption was enough for her to close her lips and forget about what she was about to say to him, "i don't know what you think is happening between us but i do care about you, okay?"

she could hear her heartbeat pounding behind her chest in the quiet of the room and she looks at him, properly, for the first time that evening.

"you don't show it."

"i don't know how," he scoffs and it's more aimed at himself than at her, his feet take him across the stretch of empty space before he stands before her, "you're chris' best friend... i'm not going to be the one to step in the way and ruin that."

"you could have treated me better. spoke to me nicer. actually made me feel like you wanted me around."

"you're not listening, are you? i like you, you idiot."

for the first time that night, she couldn't find the words to come back to his response. she stared at him, dumbfounded, with wide eyes that couldn't tear away from the way he was walking towards her. and she didn't realise her mouth had gaped open until his hand came up to cup her cheek, thumb pushing her the bottom of her jaw, lingering his touch that had her tilting her head into his palm.

"but-"

"you've always got something to say, haven't you?" and if he didn't have a smile twitching at his lips, hidden beneath the growing facial hair that grew from his upper lip, she would have taken offence to his words, "i wanted this conversation with a sober yn. not slightly drunk, in a mood because her friends abandoned her, in the middle of the night and stood in the middle of my living room."

"you-" she gulps back the lump in her throat and he smiles softly, "i don't believe you."

"are you trying to push my buttons?" he asks her, the gap between them slowly closing, "because it's working."

"and what happens if i push the last one?"

"i think you know already," he says it so softly yet it held so much behind it and yn couldn't stop the tingle in her belly that brought goosebumps to the surface of her skin and the way his breath washed over her face, warm and minted from when he'd done his nightly routine before bed, had her weak at the knees, "go on, push it."

her eyes dart between his, that stayed focused on her face, and the way his lips looked so inviting and soft. teasing and taunting her. her tongue slipping out between her lips and licking her own because they felt dry.

"what if chris finds out?"

"you're a grown woman," george mumbles softly, "i think you can make your own decisions, huh?"

it's the first time she feels a tremble in her hands as she brings her arms up, resting her forearms on his shoulders and letting her fingers comb through the hairs at the back of his head. soft strands so gentle against her cold hands.

and george seizes the opportunity to test the waters of the situation by pressing his lips against hers in a peck, quick and messy, before he pulled away and waited for a response... a verbal response... yet it never came.

because it came in the form of a reciprocated kiss, fingers digging deeper into his hair as she pulled him closer, his arms wrapping around her waist as he brought her into his chest and held her tight in a hold that made her melt. he wanted her to have control, on her own terms, to test herself out in what was happening.

"chris is going to kill me," she says softly, "you guys were off limits."

"he'll get over it."

yn laughs softly and drops her forehead to his chest, his arms still tight around her waist and just couldn't let go of her, and there was a comfortable silence that swallowed the two of them. the previous moments playing on their minds.

"fancy sharing that bed tonight?"

he grins at her question, hearing the hidden desire in her voice, and presses a kiss to her head.

"i'd love that." x

[k-k0129]

Thinking about george as a husband now 😭😭

For some reason in my head when it gets to the time where they’re considering having a baby, george is the one who brings it up and wants it first, he’s the one dropping hints and talking about it while his wife is just living her life 😭😭

this turned into some angst... unsure why but enjoy!

"i found a new desk for you."

"i don't need a desk?" george questions, looking over his shoulder to see his wife leaning up against the doorframe to their spare room, his editing for a new youtube channel video going forgotten about on his laptop once her voice broke the silence he was sitting in, "i have one right here."

"i thought we could redecorate in here," she suggests, arms folded over her chest and her eyes wandering from where he was sat in his revolving chair to the empty space around him. the bare walls white and bright once the sunlight filtered through the window, the carpet still looking brand-new and untouched, not a single piece of furniture to give it an office-feel. "it's quite boring for you, no?"

"i figured we could use this room for something else," he admits softly and he pushes his feet into the carpet to push himself out from under his desk, turning in the seat to face her properly, "two bedrooms and all. one for us, one for... i don't know, one for a baby, maybe."

"a baby?"

he nods shyly and she stares at him, eyes wide and her mouth gaped open, her mind going blank for a response to his admission.

they'd only been married for less than six months and they'd only just moved into a brand new building; where they'd lived in her flat for the majority of their engagement, they wanted something completely brand-new. something that had both of their names on the lease and had both of their names on the bills.

"babe, did you-"

"i heard you," she interrupts him and he gulps back the thick lump that was forming in his throat, "george, i-"

"you're not ready, i know. i'm just saying," he stands from his chair and walks over to stand in front of her, "in the future, i mean. when it does happen, and we do end up having a baby, it's a good idea to just be prepared."

"but, i don't know right now," she sighs heavily, "of course, i want to have babies with you. have mini clarke's running around. but we're still young, george. we've got the rest of our twenties to think about having a family."

"i know," he smiles softly, bringing his hands to cup her face in his palms, "i'm just telling you i'm ready. i'm waiting. whenever you want a baby, i'm game."

"okay," she nods, tilting her head into the touch of his left hand, his thumb brushing soft strokes across her cheek, "but we can't leave the room with just a desk and a chair in here, george. we should, at least, add a some new furniture or something. it still feels brand new and we've been here for three months already."

"show me this desk then," he snickers softly.

and that's that for the conversation.

and george didn't want to dwell on the topic anymore knowing what he feelings were towards the next step of their relationship. he was willing to wait until she was ready, willing to talk about their options if she wasn't, willing to stand by her side as she figures her own life out as well as the life they were building together.

but sometimes, all he wants to do is talk about his future.

with the wife of his dreams, someone he loves and someone who can understand him in ways others can't, he was the happiest man in the world. the smile on his face looked like it could split him in two when he realised he got to go home to her at the end of the day. knowing he gets to hold her whenever he wants to give her a hug and to kiss her whenever he wanted a cheeky kiss in passing. making dinner for her when she's had a long day and starting his day with a breakfast made by her. getting to see her walk through the door in the evenings and getting to hear her drop her keys into the bowl on the side table once she arrived back from work. getting to cuddle on the sofa as re-runs of their favourite shows play on the television.

it was the life he had envisioned.

but deep down, of course, he wanted a baby.

-

"so, george," max starts off, watching as his useless hotline co-host took a sip of his drink from the mug in his hand, "we're nearing a year since the wedding. how on earth has it gone that fast?"

"i don't remember you at the end of the altar in the wedding dress," george retorts with a hint of sarcasm dripping from his mouth and he snickers softly at the swift middle finger thrown in his direction from the blonde-haired boy opposite, "but yes. it's been nine months. gone too fast, honestly. i'd do anything to go back to that day."

"it was a gorgeous ceremony," max says, resting his elbows on the desk beneath him and resting his chin on his hands, "i doubt you had anything to do with that."

george snorts and shakes his head in his direction.

"i did, thank you very much," he insists, "i helped choose our venue. i chose the colour scheme and i chose what flowers we had for each person in our wedding parties. with some guided assistance by yn but she let me choose the final part."

and it was true.

yn was impressed at how he had taken an interest in everything they needed to plan for their wedding day; everything except the wedding dress which she refused to let him know anything about. a stickler for the superstitions that came with getting married and he was more than okay with that. she loved how involved he had been, how much he listened and how he had everything planned out in his head... she was, at least, excepting herself to do a lot of the organising but felt a huge weight lifted off her shoulders when he offered his own ideas to help ease her mind.

it was their day and he wanted it to feel like it.

"is there any talk of babies yet? we can only hope that there are mini-yn's running around instead of mini-george's," max cackles and all george can muster is a roll of his eyes, "is that a roll of the eyes at the question or at me?"

"at you," george says with no hesitation, a smirk on his lips, "we've touched on the subject briefly. yn just wants to enjoy being young and free, enjoy us as a married couple, enjoy our twenties before we get tied down with babies and the responsibility of raising someone in this world."

"but what about you?"

"what about me?"

"you said yn wants to enjoy life right now but what about you?" max asks and george feels his cheeks heat up, telling himself to blame it on the lights and the heat of the room if anyone picked up on the matter, "i'm surprised you didn't knock her up on your honeymoon."

"i mean," george shrugs and sits back in his chair, bringing the mic with him as he moved further from the tabletop, "we did a lot of practicing on the honeymoon, anywhere and any chance we had, if you get my drift," he laughs loudly and max pulls a face of disgust, "no, i'd love kids. i'd love a baby, of course i would. a little bit me and a little bit of yn mixed into one human being. it's a dream."

"but?"

"but nothing," george insists, "like i said, we're just finding our feet in the world of marriage, it's only been nine months, so we want to take time in creating a family."

"uh-huh," max nods slowly, dropping the subject there and then to save any awkward conversations later on, "practicing is just as fun as the real thing, anyway. once you have a baby, it all stops."

"like you'd know," george retorts and max covers his heart with his hand, "anyway..."

-

the tension in their flat was thick enough to suffocate them.

when he'd come home from a chrismd video shoot down at the local 3g football pitch, for a football video that would go out on his channel in the near future, he was met with the silent treatment from his wife. confused and unsure of what he'd done, he tried to coax it out of her but to no avail... until she burst on him when she couldn't contain her emotions for much longer.

"you just need to talk about it, don't you?"

"talk about what?"

"you just can't drop the fact that i don't want a baby right now, can you?" her voice is thick with anger, her cheeks bright red and her eyes were dark and he honestly wanted the ground to swallow him whole so he didn't have to look at her. "what don't you understand about my feelings, george?"

"i understand you clearly," he responds only to receive a scoff back in his face and it was evident to him that she'd listened to the newest podcast episode that was scheduled for release that day, "what?"

"i told you how i felt, three months ago, george. i told you i wanted to wait to have kids, i told you we had the rest of our twenties to figure everything out, i told you i wanted to live my life without any heavy responsibilities," and he noticed that when she was angry, she used her hands to accentuate her words, his eyes focusing on the way her fingers scrunched up and how she pointed her pointer finger at him everytime she referred to him, "but you speak about it on the podcast and think i'd be okay with that?"

his gulps are thick as he tries to find the right words to say... although he knew, in that moment, anything he said was going to be ignored.

"i'm not okay with that," she grumbles heavily, shaking her head at him and he felt a pain in his chest like a knife had pierced through his ribs, "it's private information, george. our private life. we spoke about this."

"max asked me-"

"you could have ignored the question, told him you wanted to keep that to yourself," the tea-towel in her hand got thrown on the island in the middle of their kitchen area after she'd finished drying off her wet hands and her feet padded across the floor of their open-plan front room, in the direction of the dining table where she'd laid out plates and cutlery for their dinner, "why are you making me out to be a bad person?"

"i'm not-"

"you are!"

"please don't shout at me when i have no idea what's going on," he tells her and he can see her pause for a moment before continuing to clear up the dinner table, "what are you doing? dinner's done soon."

"i'm eating in the bedroom," she mumbles lowly, "i don't want to sit at the table and look at you right now. i'm angry with you."

"okay," he admits defeat, his words full of remorse and upset, and as toes off the trainers on his feet, he swears he can hear her mutter something beneath her breath but he couldn't bear to bring himself to ask what, "call me when dinners done. i've got some work to do so i'll be in the office most of tonight."

she hums in response and he bends over to pick his trainers up from the floor, walking into the entryway of their home and setting them down on floor beside her work shoes, and it kills him to walk away from her when all he wants is to work things out and argue until both of them are blue in the face. he can hear the gentle intakes of breath as she tries to calm herself down and he takes one last glance at her, as she rounds the island and steps back in front of the oven, and he can feel his stomach aching from the guilt that was building up.

he never meant to upset her.

he didn't think he said anything wrong... but it dawned on him how it may have sounded to her. how his words came out with the intention of answering the question as bluntly as possible without giving away their own private talks and could have been taken the wrong way by yn and how she felt targeted with the topic.

but for now, as much as he wanted to apologise, they needed a bit of time apart for the night

-

he's deep in thought when he hears a knock on the door.

his eyes were stinging from the bright light of the laptop screen that sat open before him and his hand was cramping from the way he was holding his pen tight in his hand, his notebook full of scribbles about upcoming video ideas he could do for his channel and who he wanted as a guest on each one, the silence being so comforting that he was knocked out of his distant look once the sound had disrupted him.

"george?"

he looks over his shoulder and sees yn standing in the doorway. one of his t-shirts hanging down her figure, a pair of tube socks on her feet to keep her toes warm, and a knitted blanket tucked around her shoulders and dragging across the floor behind her. in the bright light of the screen illuminating the room, he can see her wet cheeks and he feels his heart break.

"i'm sorry," he whispers softly and she shakes her head, "no, baby. i am. i should have just dropped the subject when you told me how you felt."

"no, i shouldn't have overreacted earlier."

he turns in his chair and sets his pen down on his notebook, giving his thighs a pat as an invitation for her to come and sit down with him, smiling warmly when she accepted his offer and walked towards him. enveloping her in a tight hug and adjusting himself in his seat as she wraps her arms around his shoulders and curls up on his lap.

"you have feelings, just as much as me," she admits, bringing a hand up to tickle her fingers across his cheeks, "you understood how i felt so i need to understand how you feel."

"but it's a big life decision and i should respect your feelings more," he says and she frowns, "besides, i'm not the one who has to go through all the changes with a pregnancy. i won't be one to develop a bump, i won't go through the emotional changes, i won't have to actually give birth to the baby and deal with the pain. that's all you."

there's a comfortable silence that lingers in the air and she sighs just to break it.

"i know how badly you want a baby," yn admits, "and i do want babies with you, george. not just one but four. there's nothing i want more. but, right now, we have so much of our life to live together. lots we can do before we have a little one running around, so many places to go and see. don't take me not wanting a baby right now as me not wanting babies at all. i want a baby george running around."

"i know," he presses a kiss to her forehead and lets his lips linger on her skin, "i want to enjoy us a little more, too."

"i'm sorry for my outburst," she hides her face in the crook of his neck and he shakes his head softly, "i was just... scared, i guess."

"i'm not going anywhere, little rascal," he murmurs into her hair, "you are stuck with me, i'm afraid."

"there's scarier people in the world to be stuck with," she jokes and looks up at him, his mouth dropping open, "i'm kidding." xx

[k-k0129]

I love your writing so much! I'd really love a george smut giving him head and getting praised, idk I feel like he'd be dom but also really caring?

christ, yes. [MATURE CONTENT]

george loves to dominate.

to him, there was something about telling her what to do, guiding her through something he needed from her touch, that made him feel thrilled. gently holding her head in place as she worked her magic on his cock, allowing her the chance to pull away whenever she wanted, feeling the warmth of her mouth as she salivated around his girth. watching her bob her head up and down as she dug her nails into the flesh of his thighs, her eyes watering, lips swelling and moist from the continuous motions.

yn loves to be praised.

hearing his low groans of satisfaction as well as his guttural grunts of pleasure, it made her feel happy knowing that she can make him feel good with just a swipe of her tongue or a slight jerk of her hand. pet-names rolling off of his tongue, one after another, making her heart flutter and her belly tingle. gentle profanities are mixed with softly spoken praises and they only encourage her to carry on.

"that feels so good."

she can feel her knees aching from the hard floor of the living room and how she'd settled herself between his legs and she was starting to wish she agreed to moving things to the bedroom... except he was desperate for her and she wanted to please him as fast as possible. anything that took them too long could go forgotten about.

but she wasn't about to give up for some dull aches in her legs. not when she could taste him on her tongue as he got close, when she could hear the desperation to orgasm in his praises, when she could feel her own arousal beginning to form at just how she had him unfolding before her.

his fingers clasp around fistfuls of her hair, her fingernails form tiny crescents on his thighs, and she lets him control her in any way he wanted to. using her mouth however he pleased. anyway that he desired because it was his orgasm and she wanted him to feel plenty satisfied when he was done.

"look at me," he whispers, tilting her head back and looking deeply into her eyes, his cock sliding from between her lips with a string of saliva connecting the two of them together, her eyes watering as they met his darkening orbs. "you look so pretty," he adds, cupping the back of her head with his hands and using his thumbs to brush under her eyes, "so beautiful with my cock in your mouth."

"really?" she croaks back in response, lifting one hand from his thigh and wrapping it around the base of his length, and he nods softly before he winches at the gentle tug that she pulls, "i only want yours, george. only yours."

"you'll always have mine," he smiles softly down at her before he lets her head drop back down, watching as she enveloped the glistening tip of his cock back into her mouth, "looks good when i've got yours mouth wearing it, anyway. don't want anyone else."

and it's not long before he can feel the knot tighten in his stomach. his toes curling into the floor of the living room, hands falling from her head as his arms drop to his side, his head rolls back for a brief second before he looks back down at her after the sudden loss of her warm mouth disappeared from between his legs.

"m'so close, baby."

"cum for then," she whispers lowly, "right here."

she points to her face and he groans out heavily, replacing her touch with his own as he jerked himself to the end of his orgasm, their eyes locked with each others as he grew closer and closer. sloppy sounds mixed with his own moans filling the silence of the living room and it wasn't long before she was painted with the arousal that spurts from the tip. warm on her skin, dribbling down her chin, glistening under the gentle light of the room.

"thank you," he leans over and presses a kiss to her forehead and all she can muster up is a tired smile, "come on, lets get you cleaned up."

"but-"

"the rest can wait for just a second," he insists, helping her stand to her feet before he stood up on his own two feet, pulling up his boxers and following her towards the bedroom, "it's your turn next. i've been craving the taste of you all day." xx