Blurb - Blog Posts

MASTERLIST

One shots

Harry Styles:

Missing you

Don't ever leave me

She is...

Antoine Griezmann:

I need you

All that matters

Make me

It's me that's lucky

Charlie Hunnam:

Never the same - A Raymond Imagine (‘The Gentlemen’ 2020)

Whoever you want it to be:

No more

Prompt list for requests

Requests are open!

Send in your imagine/one shot/blurb requests about Antoine Griezmann! The World Cup once again got me in my feelings, and I have missed writing so much! Keep ‘em coming!!!!

She is...

A Harry Styles imagine

Based on this request:

Hey could you plzz do an imagine of you not feeling well throughout the day and Harry comes hone and is kinda pissed at you for some reason and you suddenly faint while you arguing. After in the hospital he feels so bad and is worried and it ends with fluff

Enjoy! Requests are open!

~

Ever since you woke up this morning, you’ve been feeling a bit...off. Not the “I’m getting sick” or “something bad is about to happen” kind of off, but there was something that tied a knot in the pit of stomach that has remained there ever since. When you first woke up, you noticed Harry, your boyfriend of almost one and a half year, being gone, even though he was supposed to have few more days off to spend with you before going to do his shows in Australia. You at first hestitated to text him, but you did anyways, asking him where had he gone, but received no reply. Deciding against doing something more or less productive while waiting for Harry to return, hoping he had only ran out to catch some take out, since you had been craving it during the night, even going as far as waking your him up in hopes that he might go and fetch you some, but without a luck. As you tiptoed down the downstairs, the cold floor hitting your bare feet, a sudden feeling of dizziness took over you, making you grip the shelves on the wall next to the stairway, accidentally knocking over a few of Harry’s old childhood pictures, most of them gifted by Robin on his last birthday. Seeing the pictures lying on the floor with shreds of glass around them made you even more dizzy, as Harry had been having a hard time coping with the sad news ever since he passed away. Once you had gained your ability to walk and see straight, you wasted no time in trying to clean the mess up, hoping to fix the broken frames before Harry notices something being out of place, seeing that these were somehow similar to the frames you had recently bought and still had in spare. But the recent mishaps seemed to be following you around as you went, and, as you were picking up the last small pieces of the remaining shreds, a sudden bolt of the door shutting startled you, making you accidentally cut yourself in the palm of your hand. Harry’s heavy boots echoed though the otherwise empty and quiet house, making you inwardly curse to yourself for being so clumsy, knowing a storm is about to hit you.

“(Y/N)! Where are you? I bought some food I thought you might like, to make up fo- what is this?!” He asked in disbelief, at first not noticing you crouched over the broken frames.

“Harry, I-I can explain, I’m so-“

“Sorry? You are sorry?! You broke them!!! With the pictures Robin himself gave me as a present!! How could you be so heartless?? You know how much they mean to me!!” He raged, kicking the bucket full of scraps, sending them flying across the floor. He bent down, trying to pick up the pictures himself, with you trying to help.

“Leave it, you have done enough already” he spat, gripping your wounded hand in order to stop you from even touching them, making pain shoot right through you.

“Harry, I said I’m sorry, it was an accident...” you breathed out, silent tears sliding down your cheeks.

“No. No, (Y/N). Don’t start this. At first you cancel our last night’s plans, because you “just felt like staying in”, even though we were not the only ones going and I had to find a silly excuse as to why, then you wake me up god knows how early just to tell me that you want food, and now this! What is wrong with you?!?” He fumed, but his rant became more distant with time and once again the feeling of dizziness took over you, this time sending you in the depths of darkness, making the shards of glass pierce your skin as your body hit the floor.

Harry’s POV

I was livid. The last few days have been a mess - so much to do, yet so little time. Not to mention the lack of sleep. The making of new music, arranging the new additional tour dates and interviews, making sure I get everything done before I take off to Australia was taking its toll on me. And her. (Y/N). God forgive me for leaving her like this the whole time. I’ve missed her so much, and the thought of me leaving her has been driving me mad. Especially this time, even though I cannot fully understand why. Every minute spent together with her has been leading me to the edge of breaking, either in tears or rage, and this time rage took over. It’s not like she has done anything wrong, no. It’s just that the more time we spend together alone, the more I don’t want to leave, making me consider postponing the tour, to which my management would never agree to. And the fans...

Last night we were supposed to go out for a nice dinner with my team, making it important to actually show up, since I was the one who initially came up with the idea. Having to lie made me angry, not because I could not understand that (Y/N) was not feeling her best, but the fact that she realised that only an hour before the actual meeting, making me look bad infront of important people. Even though I was more than glad to finally get a good night’s sleep, (Y/N) decided otherwise, which is the reason for my cranky mood today, since I had refused to get up, guilt eating me, as I felt her shuffle further away from me, mumbling a “sorry” as she did so. Waking up this morning, however, was when I decided I cannot keep up my behaviour and took a drive to the nearest take out place, knowing very well she would forgive me for being a massive dick. I don’t even want to talk about what happened when I arrived home. Something inside of me just snapped...

Seeing her fall, however, was the worst feeling I’ve felt in a long time. Watching the love of my life fall on top of a layer of scraps that I had initially scattered there in the fit of rage I was having, made me sick in my stomach, and seeing her unconscious and bleeding just about broke my heart. I rushed towards her and craddled her in my arms, shaking her for the dear life, hoping to see her beautiful eyes look up to me, telling me that this was all just a bad dream, and that everything is alright...

Once I took her to the hospital for the doctors to take care of her and find out what caused the fainting, praying to myself that I was not the reason behind it, I couldn’t help but to fear the worst. I kept repeating everything I said to her in my mind, wincing at how rude and unnecessary that was. I couldn’t help but to sob next to her bed, praying for her to wake up and forgive me, to hold me the way I’m holding her now and to tell me that everything is okay. That it will be okay... It will, right?

When the doctor came in, I couldn’t help but to jump up from my chair, asking him to give me the answers I oh so desperately wanted to know.

“Mr.Styles, you have got to calm down. The stitching was done professionally, so the scaring will be little to none with the right precautions taken. The fainting, however, is something I am more concerned about..” the doctor trailed off, making my heart sink.

“Wh-what is it?” I sniffled, not caring about anyone noticing my current state.

“Well, she has been lacking on the intake of vitamins, which, in her case, has lead this far, thus harming her immune system, not to mention the stress, but with the right diet and excercise, they should be fine.”

“I-I’m sorry, did I hear correct? They?”

“Oh, yes, they. She is pregnant!”

abby and gf roasting each other for their embarrassing moments late at night!! 🥲🫂

embarrassing moments (modern!Abby Anderson)

thank you for your request, leave some more, i love writing

also i’m not quite sure if i wrote what you meant but i think it’s still cute so enjoy

you and abby had a tendency to… argue? okay no, it wasn’t arguing, it was bickering. you had been dating for close to a year now and although there has been a few major fights over something silly, everything was perfect.

now, the bickering wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. you usually snap a sarcastic remark at one another knowing the other would play into the banter. it was honestly really funny, almost always ending up laughing

you were pretty popular and abby had gotten used to your friends randomly showing up and staying the night. it was a group of them this time. five, including you, all sprawled out in the living room of yours and abby’s apartment.

abby had joined for a while after work, watching movies and eating popcorn before she decided to go to bed. unlike usual, however, she couldn’t have her nightly make out session with you so she left with a kiss on the forehead.

“night darling, i love you and your big ass forehead”

the comment made you turn your head towards her so fast that she swore you got whiplash. you know it was a joke, trying to rule you up in front of your friends

“yeah night you fucking big friendly giant looking ass. love you”

oh.

that was it. abby cocked her hip out and crossed her arms. your friends where chuckling to one another and you swore one of them had their phone out

“yeah well you look like robby from harry potter”

“are you saying you want me dead, dwayne johnson”

it happened a lot, going back and forth with little insults and far from ‘look alikes’

“mm you like the muscles though don’t you darling, what did you say about them the other day? oh yeah i remember”

she gave you a look that you returned

“i don’t like your fucking attitude at the moment”

“oh darling i know that’s not true either”

and the way she raised her eyebrows at you, if your friends weren’t there, for you would have jumped her bones. not so discretely, you turned to your friends and told them you were going to the toilet, abby trailing along behind tou liek a lost puppy

“at least be mindful of us this time. don’t fuck too loud!”

and you left your friends laughing behind you, the video they took secretly being stored for the day you get married

Bella Ramsey instagram blurb (part 3)

we’re jumping forward okay, let’s pretend the first two where in like 2019/2020 ish. this one is now!

BellaRamsey

liked by y/n and 1,257,628 others

BellaRamsey my heart belongs to you my love, 3 years with you and so many more to come! <3

view all 67,299 comments

user1 OMG I KNEW IT!!

user2 3 fucking years! you’ve kept it hidden for that long!

y/n i love you darling

pascalispunk love you both ❤️

user3 ladies and gentlemen, them🤭

user4 three years since we all freaked out over bella hanging out with a girl and now we’re all freaking out about them being together

y/n

liked by BellaRamsey and 157,527 others

y/n my love for you is endless and so is our time together. Bella, your my soulmate, the love of my life. three years down, many more to come 🫶

view all 9,257 comments

BellaRamsey i’ll love you forever x

user5 THEM. THEM. THEM

user6 your honour, i didn’t mean to speed. i had to get home and celebrate them

sarahpaulson my children, hearts for you❤️

user7 called it.

insatiable hunger.

yearning yearning yearning, i write more of these little poem things than i do actual fan-fiction ‘m sorry </3 i hope you enjoy this too, though!!

—————————

i see her face. in the ever fast movement the spinning world around me makes, i always catch her face — she’s driven me mad.

wether it be her or not, i’m hungry, and the more i starve the more insatiable i am bound to get. i need to feel the warmth of her flesh beneath my own, purposeful fingers holding, kneading, gripping her in place right next to me.

right on to me.

right, being one with me. yeah, thats right..

i am hungry in a way no plate of food can fix, nothing can take this empty feeling away from me, someone can only fill it.

and she looks so pretty, my body wants her to be the one to fill it. my mind is sick and elsewhere, twisting every other face on the street to have the same curve of her lips, the sharpness of her eyes missing the gleam they get at the sight of me. oh how she loves me.

in a moment of such depravity the roles have no names attached and the bodily abilities are only for each others hands to touch. i wanted her to hold me by my hair, and i find myself gripping the back of her neck. i wanted her to greedily steal sounds from my lips to fill hers with, and i find myself devouring her every breath whole. i didn’t want her to do things to me anymore, i wanted her.

𝑺𝑻𝑨𝒀 𝑺𝑶𝑭𝑻,

𝑮𝑬𝑻 𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑵.

A/N: okay bear with me, this is a ‘poem’ (i don’t know what else to call it) that i wrote and when i read over it i realised some girls here would appreciate this imagery with their own infatuations, so whilst its not written like fan-fiction i felt generous enough to share it and i hope at least 1 of you will like it, best part is that you can picture any one of your favourite girls!!! Instead of a name i call the other character “Pretty”, so keep that in mind while reading, and again, this isn’t written like fan-fiction, but still i would appreciate it if you gave it a shot and told me what you think ♡

tags: lesbian only, think anyone!, femme!r, metaphors, suggestive, nsfw undertones but they are so slight and hidden beneath the wordplay that i can’t really count this as nsfw, sadomasochistic in a way, did i forget something? Let me know!

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · ୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨ · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

I don’t want a cottage, i don’t want a life in simplicity and independency. I want a castle, i want an abandoned mansion adorned by vines hugging it long after solitude fell cold and loveless upon its very walls.

I want to hear the floors creak with every step, i want to hear the tremble of the floors effortlessly mirror the tremble of her legs, i want to have her, Pretty, and i want to keep her on her toes. I want, behind her gaze, to be as unpredictable as the grass around the mansion, a neglected ring of hues of green. Tall, short, eaten, rotten.

I want to give her the world, and i want to make her spin in the middle of it, i want to give her everything and make her feel like in a moment she could have nothing.

I want to make her dizzy and i want to make her euphoric, i want to see her scared and i want to hold her close, be the one to comfort her, Pretty.

I want our clothes to dance against each other when the weather drops and i take her out on walks, on the endless garden we’ve named ‘our hearts’ that no matter how long it’s been there for, untouched, unloved, uncared for, it just never seems to end.

I want her to let me tear her cotton fabrics apart and off, torn by grinding teeth and claw-like nails, hungry like a centuries-old vampire, lifetimes of self control and respect disintegrated in the very same time span Pretty’s clothes get ripped. Carefully laboured fabric, soft as freshly laved hair, made with the selfish, miserable thought of this granting them extra bread on their dinner plate.

And she would, she would let me tear her apart in one shared gaze. She would let me hold her and scratch her open, she would let me wound her because she knows i’ll be the one to heal her up again. And she knows i’ll do it before she can build the thought of asking me to.

She would let me darken her vision under the noon sun, heating and blinding. She would let me bruise her neck, violet splats trailing down her body like a rosemary. She would let me reach her depths and spin them around, it’d be nothing new to her, as long as her world is intertwined with mine she’s always spinning, she’s always dizzy. She would let me cradle her head as i treat her like fresh meat in aching, starved hands, because i’ve done so another hundred times, and each one she only seems more unwilted than the last.

Because she knows she’ll get me back.

Because she plans on making my darkest nights luminous, and she knows i’ll let her. The story is always the same; she unwraps me like a one-of-a-kind royal heirloom, her touches vigilant, precise on what she unfolds, what lies beneath her hands. And she knows i don’t fancy peace, her words forming clear juxtaposition to her touches, there are no blurred lines, my sense of touch and my sense of hearing are in two completely different words, and yet they co-exist in the pits of my stomach.

But like every child asking their parent to tell them a bedtime story, it doesn’t matter if its always the same, they always enjoy it the same. At the end of the day they fall asleep to it every time.

I’ll let her unwrap the lace off the corset, i’ll let her loosen every layer, watch the silks fall off my form, i’ll let her tell me the harshest things that leave my throat closing in on itself, as her hands soothe around my flesh getting me to ease up. She’ll rock me back and forth from being velvety to being cruel, i know it, and i will let her.

Because it takes two to dance, if you’re unable to match the other’s rhythm what’s the fun? It’s only enjoyable when you’re both having fun. 🫀

torment

-B.E.

A/N: teeny tiny blurb🍓

ᝰ🖋️: suggestive duh?!

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

thighs clasped together, squirming on the couch with a fidget need at the tips of your fingers.

“whats wrong? something happen?” so caring, so sweetly worried,

“im tired, its getting late” so fake.

a head turning at the clock looking with a squint, a faint held-back smile with an undertone of amusement to it. “its winter, the sun is down but its eight. since when do you get tired so early?”

she knows, the avoiding of eye contact, the excess fidgeting, the subtle moving of your hips. just enough to get the energy out of them somehow, just enough to go by unnoticed if it weren’t her goal all evening to get you just like that.

“since the sun did too.” monotone, but pained. an ache at the cords to make your replied coherent. she wasn’t born yesterday, you’re not hanging out for the first time, its obvious. neutral facial expression with uneven breathing, focusing on anything ahead as long as its not her, blank stare, a deer in headlights.

but she wanted to hear it. “ohh is the poet becoming the poetry itself? well don’t let me stop you,” without looking at her you could tell she was smiling, “go on if you have to.” she knows.

no matter the courage or the amount of times you backwards count, you cant stand on your feet. you’ve been trying, for conversations now. “i-..” cutting your own self off, you tear your eyes off the frame on the wall, dragging them all the way to her. “i don’t think i physically can” cheeks set aflame, a shameful giggle making its way out your chest.

this friendship has always been playful, and each time it gets more and more effective - which is both good and bad. depending whose perspective you see it from.

even when she tries her best to not smile, her eyes always do. they always did, her mouth didn’t have to. “whys that? need help?” such a tone. what a tone. she knew just the right buttons to push, like a favourite video game, she knew just what to do, and she would know so even blind.

“fuck off.”

Masterlist !?

꩜ angst 𐙚 fluff 𓁺 smut

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀི suggestive

…more to come

B.E. -

𐙚 A r t .

꩜ 𐙚 Run away from home, come home.

꩜ To a new beginning, with the same old feeling.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀི torment

RANDOM ┆THINK ANYONE! -

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀི suggestive smut practice (<- super short whoops might do smut someday tho)

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀི 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝒀 𝑺𝑶𝑭𝑻, 𝑮𝑬𝑻 𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑵.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀི insatiable hunger.

so like ive never written smut and my writing is way different than any ive seen so i did some practice. and i expect feedback. 🧍‍♀️plus this isn’t about sm1 specific imagine it as you like

warnings(?): some pwp for the fuck of it, suggestive, sadomasochism, knife kink :3c, just a little sumsum

✦•······················•✦•···········································•✦•······················•✦

cold. so cold.

shivers down your spine making you feel like a scared cat, if you could focus on that look on her face you’d think you also look like one.

a half smile, bent brows, so many emotions flowing in and out the current of your faces right in front of each other.

eyes don’t meet, lips don’t speak, breathing unmatched and trembling feet.

sound of clothes ripping interrupt the heavy breathing and unstoppable thinking

“you’re doing so good,” all in one sigh

no matter how wide your eyes are, you cannot see anything anywhere, yet she can see everything, even if you’re not speaking, she can hear every thought and choked word.

eyes on the hand

that hand that holds the knife

face flushed, legs weak, but you’re already laying down, how much lower can you go?

your hands gripping on your skirt are more prone to bleeding than your knife-teased neck

“do you not have trust in me?”

those eyes, so soft-bent, so shiny. you know they’re not sincere, their shine matches the knives and they look like they can break you.

𝚃𝚘 𝚊 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐.

- B.E.

First request!!! Req by: @bilsluckyheart !! Thank you for your faith in me and i hope i didn’t disappoint <3

A/N: used one of my experiences and altered it some more!! Help!!

C/W: m*n mentioned, comphet implied, death mentioned (?), angst, hurt no comfort, no use of y/n, Billie referred to with her name instead of she once, hope i didn’t miss smt

Summary: You finally get a partner and as you said you didn’t care what they were like! You just wanted to not be alone. Is that what fulfils you? Is that what you expected to happen when you were finally “not alone?” Bet you didn’t expect to lose what you realised way too late was what you truly wanted there with you.

❀。 •*₊❀。 • *₊°。 ❀°· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · ❀。 • *₊°。 ❀° ❀。 •

A man, a man supposedly being your boyfriend but you can’t seem to help that you see him as a best friend more than anything. Sex feels rather like a playtime-pass time than intimacy - what’s supposed to be dates instead is like going out with your dad’s friend instead of your lover - being with him feels more suffocating than it does to be utterly alone.

Sick worried about your sexuality and cravings, controlling to the core. You needn’t have cut her off, did you? You didn’t like her like that, right?

Or was it just you being in denial? Have you thought how obvious it is when others hear how you talk to her, your tone, your blabbering, clinging onto every little detail ever just for the sake of a never-ending conversation. How your eyes light up the entire milky way the moment she looks your way, gives you attention, answers your texts, you you you in her mind you wanted it to be you.

And he saw that as a threat, his very own misery being contagiously inflicted to you, all in plain sight.

So many excuses for how he is- but you cant deny it. You don’t dare deny it, and you know it too.

The car rides you’d wish would lead to her, the friends you’d go out with you wished would include her, the indirect questions of his old friends in a flick of hope to hear about her.

She was never to be talked of again.

He broke up with you, why are you sad? Body shaking with devastation, tears running like real-life waterfalls, screams of a broken heart hope. You had only hoped you like him, you had only hoped you could convince yourself you like men, the way they like you. The closet shut so quick for the sake of being with someone for once, anyone.

It doesn’t take long until you realise you’re better without him, you aren’t miserable yourself, you were forced to be but yourself. The episodes and constant crying is over, your body has no one to reject anymore, so as the months go by, why do you still feel crashed?

Mind replaying the thoughts you had while dating him, how often you’d think of Billie, wish for her upon every shooting star, hoping your words would reach her under the same night sky.

You weren’t in love with her though? Right?

The times she’d laugh at your stupid jokes and you’d only grow warmer, all from inside out. The way she laughed at your idiotic jokes, eyes shut closed and uncontrollable irregular panting laughs, you felt your heart open up and flutter like a lotus. You weren’t breathing anymore - you were blooming.

Or how she would always react to you with a smile, no she wasn’t always happy, but she felt that way whenever you were in the picture.

You knew she wasn’t always happy, especially when you tried to contact her about a month after your breakup, after the breakup of probably the most pathetic relationship ever.

Her hometown being your own isn’t helping, with a new year of studies crawling in and summer days shortening she’s come to visit family and friends and you cant help but imagine every other girl she interacted with was you.

Stolen glances while passing by the street, yours were full head turns, trying to drink up as much of her as you can in that luck-pathed moment, whereas hers almost looked through you. Short and cold, like broken icicles used as daggers.

The eyes that once bent and twinkled with such a welcoming warmth you now find them leaving you breathless. The hands that once opened up like wings, fingers empty of their shiny rings, -something she always did knowing how the sensation makes you cringe unpleasantly- knowing she’s gonna see you, eager to be held by you contentedly, palms facing you with a silent request to hold them — now you see fallen, the only thing about them looking at you being the big shiny intimidating rings peeking from a fist.

The mud is dirty, the water is not the best. All kinds of things found around the pond taking a sip or a dip. But a lotus flower grows again tomorrow even cleaner than before. Why can’t she see it?

You a year ago today is nothing compared to you right now, you know what you are and what you want. So why is she suddenly scared to get wet? Why is every person attracted to the pond but her?

Everyone but the one you want.

The one person to bloom the lotus within you, the one to plant the lotus seed inside you, to keep it from rotting all along. She gave it life and left it with you to die.

Or at least you tell that yourself to feel better, better about the fact that you left her without a word and hoped for the best.

You hadn’t realised just how much time had passed, or that time had passed at all. Now out of your mind and back to your body, looking right at the entrance of a park, you hadn’t moved an inch since you looked back and was met with a killer gaze. The evening sky turning to yet another dark night. Were the nights always this cold?

You lean against the random buildings fence, state of shock unbothered. Your head tilts up as the breeze kisses past your features, thats when you realise your body has betrayed you yet again, wet cold teary cheeks.

Blink,, blink,,, blink… and you shot your eyes up ahead, the stars in the dark blue of the sky dancing along the hue of the endless horizon above and beyond, and for a moment you saw her eyes again, for a moment you saw her staring at you the way she used to. For a final moment before you felt your heart rip itself apart.

...

..

You had no outlet for your love to her, you didn’t have her. What was there to do with a feeling so tender that sucker punches your stomach the moment it sees the owner of it whole? A feeling that fights against your held back words and actions, trying to get out in any way, ends up finding that the only way out, is through.

There was no room for it. If you clung onto it, it would only destroy you.

A r t .

- B.E.

Blurb :p | no use of any names for the characters, just “she” and “you”

a/n: first fanfic posted ever im so nervous | this was my yearning from some months ago i decided to make it into something more | please comment on your opinion on this im nervy

Not fluffy nor sexual but a secret third thing (sensual)

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Have you got colour in your cheeks?

Leftover snack packets and crumbs of cookies and sugar littering the couch of the living room, clock read 12:38AM, its past midnight, yet for two girls with a sleep schedule as theirs, the night is still young, too young.

Family and friends long gone, others went home others went on dates, and another stayed behind to cherish this very moment.

Are there some aces up your sleeve?

Have you no idea that you’re in deep?

Laughs had hit the walls hours ago when they were once gathered up to 7, and even now at 2 laughs are still bouncing back and forth. Sneaky giggles and stupid jokes, unexplainable videos that just seem so funny when its late and for once youre not alone.

Energy drinks on the floor next to the bed and an annoyingly bright light hitting at the side to make up for the lack of sun, yet thats the last thing to bother you right now. Theres nothing that could actually bother you right now, not when you finally have her in front of you.

Ive dreamt about you nearly every night this week

Sketchbook in your lap, pencil in your hand and coloured pencils scattered along your side on the bed, criss crossed bodies mirroring each other face to face.

Even if your face wasn’t able to stay in one place. Even if your face couldn’t handle the urge to heat and melt your makeup off in the process, even if you couldn’t handle looking at her, as much as you couldn’t handle her looking at you.

How many secrets can you keep?

Your heart thumping in your chest the same way it does when you’re at a club next to the speaker, body shook with the beat of the speakers and the bass, and you couldn’t tell if its from the amount of energy drinks you’ve consumed this evening or her presence.

But this is better, oh this is way better, theres no eardrum-breaking noise, or people squished up together, stomach-stirring drinks, uncomfortable heels. None of that.

This is simply adrenaline in itself, it was the excitement pumping in your veins.

Cause theres this tune i found that makes me think of you somehow and i play it on repeat..

Emotions thumping at your heart and in your veins causing your blood to rush to your face, cheeks burning red, but the colour showed at your ears, palms so sweaty you hold your sketchbook carefully to not wet and bend the paper. Neck and collarbone stained with red rash spots, just how into her are you?

Shes not stupid now, you tell that to yourself to sleep better at night. She has noticed everything, a simple blood rush is nothing. The way you look at her when everyone is talking laughing and you’re quiet? When your choice of “recharging” your social battery is looking at and through her? When you’re alone and suddenly your voice drops to just above a whisper, sweeter than any sugarcoated candy? When you doodle her and her only out of so many people, there are 5 other people with you two, yet who do you draw the most? You spend all your effort and time on her, enjoyably so.

Until i fall asleep,

A hand picking up your own has a wave of goosebumps sent across your body, a wave of heat while doing so. An amused laugh breaks your gaze, from the mixed hands, up to her own stare.

Shes staring at you, and you’re wishing she would stare nowhere near you. The fear in your brain banging like a migraine, wordlessly telling you she sees it all, and the very same fear in your body, giving her all the confirmation she needs. Her eyes softening as her one-sided laughter dies down, and you’ve yet to actually see her. So far you have been too caught up in your own thoughts to see in front of you until now.

A hand holding your burning one to her also heated cheek, and a twinkle in her eye right between that blown out pupil and icy blue cloud that dances like the stars do on the dark night sky right outside the window.

“I knew you felt it too, Im not crazy to like you”

spillin’ drinks on my settee.

Warning: sorta exhibitionism, light smut, no real detail

You and Aegon ii Targaryen fucking on the iron throne, cool, stern metal causing little bruises on your skin, both ending up looking absolutely disheveled by the end. Thank the gods you finished when you had because within minutes guards would begin pouring in before court.

You'd jump up and fix your clothes, turning to your king to fix his hair a bit. His fingers rubbed over your shoulder to fix the collar of your dress. The rush of nearly being caught would get you both every time.

Personality 🩵

Chris stifled a yawn as he padded down the hallway, bleary-eyed and only half awake. The morning sun was already filtering through the blinds, casting stripes of golden light onto the hardwood floor. As he made his way into the living room, though, he stopped in his tracks.

There she was, leaning over the coffee table with a coffee mug in one hand, a pen in the other, scribbling something in her pink, sticker-covered planner.

Chris blinked a couple of times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things, but no—she was definitely wearing his favorite sweatshirt, the one with a subtle logo on the chest and a hole in the left cuff. Except now, it looked completely different.

The hem of the oversized hoodie hung just past her mid-thigh, and somehow, she’d managed to tuck the fabric at her waist so that it had a cute, cropped shape. Her hair was styled in her usual soft waves, a pastel pink bow clipped to one side, matching her cozy socks.

And, as always, she’d accessorized: a delicate bracelet on one wrist and a small chain necklace with a charm he’d given her on their last anniversary. His hoodie wasn’t just an old favorite anymore—it looked like it belonged to her.

Chris didn’t know whether to laugh, sigh, or tease her.“Morning, fashion thief,” he said, trying to keep a straight face as he leaned against the doorframe.

She looked up with a mischievous grin. “Oh, hi! You’re up early,” she replied, not missing a beat. “And what do you mean, thief? I don’t see your name on it.”

Chris raised an eyebrow and walked over, flopping onto the couch next to her.

“I don’t need my name on it—it’s mine. You’ve got an entire closet. How’d you end up in my stuff?”

She shrugged, brushing it off casually but with a little smirk tugging at her lips. “It’s comfy, plus it goes with my vibe.” She tugged at the hoodie with both hands, making it cinch at her waist in a way that made Chris’s heart flip a little. “Besides, it needed a little personality. You know—feminine touch.”

Chris chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re lucky it looks good on you,” he said, trying to sound unaffected.

“Lucky?” She leaned closer, tilting her head in mock suspicion. “Are you saying you wouldn’t wear it if it was pink and had bows on it?”

Chris rolled his eyes but couldn’t hold back a laugh. “I mean, I might. For the right person, maybe.” He pulled the hood over her head, tugging it lightly to mess up her hair.

She laughed, smoothing out her hair as she fixed him with a playful glare. “Alright, since you seem so attached to it, maybe I’ll just keep it forever.”

“Oh, really?” Chris leaned in, challenging her with a raised eyebrow. “You think you can pull off my style all the time?”

“Please,” she said, scoffing playfully. “I make your style look good. Honestly, you should be paying me for the upgrade.” She struck a dramatic pose, as if she were on a runway, making him laugh even harder.

Chris watched her for a moment, admiring how effortlessly she brought her own style to everything—even his old sweatshirt. There was something special about seeing her blend her world with his, making his things her own. And honestly, he loved it.

Chris grinned as she kept playfully twirling in his sweatshirt, striking overly dramatic poses that were so far from his usual laid-back style that he couldn’t help but laugh. She looked like a cute, rebellious version of herself, and he could see just how much fun she was having.

“Alright, Miss Fashionista,” he said, scooting closer on the couch and narrowing his eyes. “If you’re so good at making my clothes look ‘better,’ then I dare you to style a full outfit—head to toe—in my clothes.” She stopped mid-pose, an eyebrow raised. “Oh, you don’t think I’d do it?”

“Oh, I think you would,” Chris replied, a teasing spark in his eye. “I just don’t think you’d be able to pull off an entire outfit.”

“Challenge accepted.” She set down her coffee mug and folded her arms confidently, tilting her chin up. “Get ready, because I’m about to turn ‘grunge casual’ into something fabulous.” Chris leaned back, arms crossed, thoroughly entertained.

“Go for it. My closet is all yours.”A few minutes later, Chris was still lounging on the couch when he heard her rustling around in his bedroom. His closet wasn’t exactly a treasure trove of options—hoodies, oversized tees, a couple of flannels, and a few beanies—but he had a feeling she could make even the simplest pieces look good.

After some rummaging and the occasional giggle, she finally emerged.

Chris’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of her, now fully decked out in an outfit that was unmistakably his, but with a twist only she could pull off.

She’d layered one of his favorite oversized flannels over a plain white tee, which she’d tucked into a pair of shorts she’d found in his drawer (or maybe they were boxers—it was hard to tell).

She’d rolled the sleeves just slightly and even added a pair of mismatched socks to the look, one knee-high and one scrunched down to her ankle. A chain necklace he’d forgotten he even owned hung loosely around her neck, and she’d topped it all off with one of his beanies pulled snugly over her curls, though her pink bow still peeked out from underneath.

She stood in front of him, hands on her hips, giving a sassy little twirl. “What do you think? Rocking the Chris Sturniolo brand or what?”

Chris couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “I don’t even look that good in my own clothes,” he admitted, gesturing for her to do a spin. She obliged, grinning as she gave him a little twirl before flopping onto the couch beside him.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she teased, nudging him with her elbow. “But see? This,” she gestured down at the outfit, “is what happens when you add a little personality.”

Chris shrugged, trying to play it cool even though he couldn’t help but be captivated by how cute she looked. “Yeah, alright, you got me. You actually make my clothes look like they belong on someone famous.”

She feigned offense, placing a hand on her chest. “Chris! Are you saying you’re not famous?”

“Oh, come on, you know what I mean,” he laughed, trying to hide how his cheeks were probably turning red.

“But seriously, you’re killing it. I think I might just let you keep this one,” he added, tugging at the hem of the flannel she was wearing.

“Oh, that’s so generous of you,” she said sarcastically. “But you know what? I think I might just have to keep all of these,” she teased, winking.

He shook his head, though his grin stayed plastered on his face.

“Fine, take ‘em all,” he said, pretending to sigh. “But on one condition.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“You have to wear this exact outfit next time we go out,” he said, his expression suddenly serious. “Like, full on, head-to-toe Chris Sturniolo.”

She gasped dramatically, playing along. “Are you asking me to step out in public like this? I don’t know if the world is ready.”

“Oh, I’m serious. The world needs to see this masterpiece.”She rolled her eyes, leaning back into the couch with a playful grin.

“No way. That would ruin my reputation and my ego. No offense but only you can go out in public and look hot as fuck dressed like Christopher Sturniolo.”

For a few quiet moments, they sat together in comfortable silence, her head on his shoulder as they both scrolled through their phones. Chris caught himself sneaking glances at her every now and then, still not quite over how she could take anything of his and make it look amazing.

Then she sighed, looking up at him with that mischievous sparkle back in her eyes. “You know,” she said, biting back a smile, “if you’re that into my style, maybe next time you should try wearing something of mine.”

Chris’s eyebrows shot up, and he immediately started to protest, but she just laughed, already planning out what she could make him wear.

a request for maybe some george smut after he comes back from the useless hotline tour that we werent able to go on ?? so like he hasnt seen us in a while

the second george steps into his bedroom, he drops his bags and heads for the shower. he knows you're on your way over, having been waiting by your phone all day for him to let you know he's back. so when your phone dinged, you were already halfway out the door, tripping over your own feet trying to get there as soon as possible.

conveniently, you live about a ten-minute walk away, meaning you're used to seeing george every day. the two weeks he and max had been on tour were difficult, but you tried to make the best out of the situation and would call each other whenever you could.

a few minutes after he had got in the shower, you're at the flat taking the familiar path to his room. your heart pounds in anticipation as you undress quickly after closing the door, glad you'll finally be with him again.

the warm air surrounds you when you step inside the bathroom and lazily drag your eyes over his body. he's standing under the water, eyes closed and head thrown back, making you think of the more sinful times you'd seen him in this position.

"hi george." you say, a smile breaking out on his face when he sees you.

"hi darling. come here." he replies, arms outstretched toward you.

you step into the shower, letting him pull you into him as you wrap your arms around his neck. his arms tighten around you and you close your eyes, water cascading over you both. a comfortable silence sets in and several minutes pass before either of you speak.

"wish you could've come with us, you have no idea how much i missed you. i even struggled to fall asleep." george admits, his cheeks turning slightly red at the confession.

"really?" you raise your eyebrows at him to which he nods, "i missed you too. had to cuddle the teddy you got me instead. wasn't the same."

your hands untangle from his hair and cup his jaw, connecting your lips in a kiss. as the water continues to flow, the kiss grows more passionate. george's hands travel further down, one landing on your ass and squeezing it, the other pressed flat against your lower back to pull you closer to him.

"george," you don't mean for it to come out so breathless, but when his lips detach from yours to trail kisses down your neck, you can't help it, "you've literally just stepped through the door."

"mhm. but, i also currently have my sexy, loving, amazing girlfriend, who i've missed so much, naked in my shower. so, i don't understand the issue." he counters, making you giggle.

two fingers make their way between your legs and start toying with your clit before sliding into you, the sudden stretch causing your knees to buckle. you can feel his cock against your thigh, so you begin pumping him at the same pace he's fingering you, steadily building up your orgasm.

he curls his fingers, repeatedly hitting that spot inside you and your orgasm washes over you within minutes, hands scratching at his back. your eyes squeeze shut and you clench around his fingers, moans filling the room while you ride out your high.

"fuck, baby." you pant, trying to catch your breath.

a proud smirk is plastered on george's face, "you good?"

"so good. your turn."

you go to drop to your knees to return the favour, but he's quick to stop you and shake his head. when a pout appears on your lips, he kisses it away.

"as amazing as that would be, i need to be inside you, like now." he pleads and grips your hips, moving you until your back is pressed against the shower wall.

contradicting his words, he slowly drags his cock through your folds, letting the tip bump your clit a few times. but you're impatient, so you replace his hand with yours and align him with your entrance, jaw dropping as he pushes in.

"fuck, you feel so good, shit." he groans, hands on your hips keeping you steady while he fucks up into you.

he starts off slow, letting you adjust, but as your moans and whimpers grow more desperate, so do his thrusts. the only two words leaving your mouth are 'fuck' and 'george', his ego growing and determination to make you cum doubling.

a particularly harsh thrust has you crying out, holding onto him tighter. the sound of skin slapping echoes around the bathroom, more than likely being heard over the water that's still running.

"you close darling, yea? you gonna cum?" he leans down, connecting your lips once again, not giving you time to respond.

the knot in your stomach is dangerously close to snapping and he knows, one of his hands leaving your hips to rub tight circles on your clit.

"please george." you whimper, clenching around him so tight he swears his brain short circuits.

"cum for me."

a whine escapes your lips and you throw your head back, letting your second orgasm take over your body. his rhythm falters as you cum around him, raking your nails up his back until they're digging into his shoulders.

george's head drops to your shoulder, thrusting into you a few times before pulling out, spilling over your thighs with a moan. both of your chests are heaving while you try to even out your breathing and he places multiple kisses to your shoulder and neck.

"well, that was quite the welcome home." george chuckles, "might leave more often if that's what i get when i come back."

"don't you dare."

--------

a low whistle comes from behind george as he enters the kitchen. you're curled up in his bed, having had a proper shower after his 'welcome home', and he's gone to grab you some water in just a pair of joggers, not realising bright red scratch marks are all over his back.

"take it y/n is here then?" chris chuckles, eyeing george from the sofa.

"uh, yea? how'd you know?" he furrows his brows in confusion since there's no sign of your things in the kitchen or living room.

before chris can answer, arthur hill walks in, eyes widening when he notices the marks too.

"damn george, what the hell happened to you?"

"y/n." chris replies, not taking his eyes off the tv.

"ah, right." arthur nods in understanding with a smirk on his face.

deciding to ignore their comments, george walks back to his room, being met with your horrified expression when he turns around.

"george! did you actually go to the kitchen like that?" you groan and he nods, confused, "there's marks all over your back. it's so obvious we've just fucked."

well, that explains it.

a/n not proofread sorry <33 hope you enjoyed!

just like mummy | george clarke

george is in the kitchen finishing the washing up, when he notices the ever-noisy house is now oddly silent. this is unusual considering your 6 year old twin daughters, willow and ivy, are home. knowing silence is more often than not an indicator of his girls being up to no good, george decides to see what they're up to.

he makes his way to the living room, expecting them to be playing with their toys, but to his surprise, they're not there. next, he checks their bedroom, again not finding them. he begins to panic a little before hearing a giggle from your shared bedroom.

quietly, george pushes open the door, wanting to see what they're doing. the second ivy spots her dad, the smile on her face is replaced with a worried expression, and she tries to hide what they're playing with behind her back. willow turns around at her sister's reaction, replicating ivy's expression when she realises george has found them. but it's obvious what they were doing, the sheer amount of makeup on willow's face a dead giveaway.

"ivy-mae what have you been doing to your sister?" george asks, his tone soft but stern.

she starts fiddling with her dress, not meeting his gaze, "we're playing dress up."

"we wanted to be pretty like mummy." willow adds, tears welling up in her eyes since she thinks george is mad at them.

his eyes soften and he sits down next to them, pulling them both into a hug. willow doesn't pull away from the hug, instead nuzzling her face into george's chest as she starts to cry. makeup definitely gets on his top, but he can't find it in him to care.

"darling, don't cry. i'm not mad," he strokes her cheek, wiping away a tear, "but you should've asked to use mummy's stuff okay? and you don't need makeup. you're the prettiest girls in the whole wide world."

grabbing some of your makeup wipes, george carries willow into the bathroom, setting her on the counter. he gently wipes her face until all the makeup is gone and kisses her cheek.

while george is taking off willow's makeup, ivy tidies away your makeup and puts the bag back where she found it. she runs over to the bathroom when george calls her name and she proudly tells him she's tidied up.

"thank you poppet. how about we go get into pyjamas and watch tv until mummy comes home?" george suggests, earning eager nods from his girls.

he takes both their hands, getting them ready for bed before leading them to the living room where 'minions' is still playing. they all get comfortable on the sofa, the blanket draped over the three of them and ivy and willow curl into his side. evidently playing dress up tires them out, and they soon fall asleep, george not far behind.

when you come home from dinner with grace, that's how you find them, all sleeping on the sofa. george is now stretched out, arms wrapped protectively around willow and ivy. you take a quick photo and walk over, placing a kiss on his lips, causing him to wake up.

"hey sleepyhead, were they a handful?" you nod to your sleeping daughters.

"nothing i couldn't handle." george responds.

willow stirs at the sound of voices, her fluttering eyes open, "mummy?"

"hi baby, you have fun with daddy?" you whisper, leaning down to brush a strand of hair from her face.

she hums in response, eyes struggling to stay open. george sits up, careful not to wake ivy, who was still fast asleep, and you give him another kiss as a silent thank you for looking after them tonight.

"we should probably get them to bed." you suggest.

george nods, letting you pick willow up first before he lifts ivy into his arms. willow wraps her arms around your neck, leaning her head on your shoulder as you make your way to the girl's bedroom.

once they're both tucked in, you place a kiss on their foreheads and turn on the nightlight. you pull the door to, making sure to leave a gap like you do every night. turning around, you wrap your arms around george's waist and rest your head against his chest, hugging him tight.

"george, why do you have makeup all over your top?" you quietly giggle, tilting your head up to look at him.

"they were playing dress up. said they wanted to be pretty just like mummy. i thought i got all the makeup off." george mumbles, rubbing your back.

"aww, i hope you told them they don't need it. that they're the most beautiful girls in the world." you say softly.

"of course i did."

"good. now can we please go to bed?"

"absolutely."

a/n i can't stop thinking about girl dad george <333 i wasn't expecting to get so carried away with this but i did. anyway, hope you enjoyed it! i'm still working on requests but wanted to post something else for you guys while i work through them <3

hey!! i love the way you write for george it’s so cute - could i request something where the reader is good friends with max and they’re all at a social event and george meets her for the first time and he gets a huge crush on her (maybe some teasing from his housemates) and then maybe a bit about how the relationship develops

all good if not!!! ty ❤️❤️

of course lovely! here you go <3

by the time you and max arrive at george's housewarming party, the sounds of laughter and music filling the air are in full swing. max can sense your nerves, and reassures you quickly with a side hug before dragging you to get a drink.

it was only your first week in london, having recently just moved, after much convincing from max. you'd been close friends with him for years. he knows how nervous you were about making such a big move, so when george mentioned the party, max knew this was the perfect opportunity to introduce you to everyone and make you feel more welcome.

after being handed a drink, you're pulled over to where george and grace are currently bickering about a tiktok they saw. grace is the first to spot you both, getting up and giving max a hug before introducing herself.

"hi babe! you must be y/n," you nod, returning her hug, "max mentioned he was bringing someone. you want a drink?"

"uh, no i've just got one but thank you. let me know when you get another one and i'll join you though." you smile before she walks off.

"probably for the best, grace can't measure drinks for shit. i'm george by the way."

"i know," internally you cringe, not wanting to make yourself sound like a weird fan or stalker, "i mean because i watch the podcast, and max loves to talk about you."

max's jaw drops, and he playfully shoves your shoulder, "i do not!"

"yes, you do. don't lie."

as the night goes on and you gain confidence through the drinks you consume, you find yourself gravitating toward george. you'd been introduced to everyone, him having taken over from max at some point in the evening, wanting to spend as much time with you as possible despite only just meeting you.

chris and arthur, george's flatmates, notice the way his eyes follow you whenever you're talking to someone else or grabbing a drink, and decide to tease him.

"george," he gives a hum of acknowledgment, but his eyes never leave you, "you're staring."

"chris shut up. i'm not staring." he mumbles, quickly shifting his gaze to the phone in his hand.

it's a lie, of course he's staring. how could he not?

"so, you have a plan? or are you just gonna stare all night and hope that she'll magically become your girlfriend?" arthur teases making george roll his eyes.

ignoring the laughs from behind him, he walks over to where you and grace are and rests a hand on your lower back to gain your attention.

"hey, sorry to interrupt. can i steal you for a minute?"

"yea of course." you say, taking his hand as he leads you to somewhere more private.

his hands grow clammy as he closes his bedroom door and you notice how he won't meet your eye for longer than a couple of seconds at a time.

"george, are you okay?"

he shoves his hands in his pockets and finally meets your gaze, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves.

"sorry if this is too forward and i know we've just met but i was wondering if you'd wanna grab a drink some time? no pressure to say yes or anything."

the few seconds of silence are killing him before you nod your head with a grin on your face.

"i'd love to." you giggle and pull out your phone to get his number.

--------

the next few weeks you and george are barely apart, spending nearly every day together. his friends don't stop their teasing but he doesn't let it bother him. he's just happy with how well things are going.

the date had gone well, a local bar allowing you to get to know each other more in a relaxed environment. conversation between you both flowed easily, filling the space with laughter as you found out more about each other. it was evident by the end of the date that the feelings were mutual.

weeks turn into months, and everyone around you is glad you're both so happy and smitten with one another. george is constantly proving to be an incredible boyfriend, making sure you feel loved and appreciated, surprising you with random gifts or nights away.

one night, you're at george's flat for the weekly movie night that now happens. his arm is wrapped around your waist and you're curled into him, head on his shoulder.

"have we ever told you how thankful we are you adopted george as your rescue boyfriend?" arthur chuckles and george groans at the reminder of the infamous tweet, "means his whole personality can't be about being single."

"yea you've mentioned it once or twice," you laugh as george hides his face in your neck, blushing, "don't get embarrassed baby, you're my favourite rescue boyfriend."

his head shoots up and he cocks his eyebrow, "what do you mean your favourite? what other rescue boyfriends have you had?"

"never you mind, just watch the movie."

you push his head towards the tv but before you realise what's happening, george is mercilessly tickling you. a shriek of laughter escapes your lips.

"george! stop, i'm sorry!" you gasp, trying to pry his wrists away from your sides, but you're trapped underneath him.

watching the scene unfold in front of them, chris and arthur smile, feeling happy for george at him being so undoubtedly in love.

"okay, okay! i surrender! please stop!" your sides physically hurt from your uncontrollable laughing.

at last, george stops, gripping your hips instead and you're panting as you try to catch your breath.

"tell me i'm not a rescue boyfriend and that i'm actually the best boyfriend in the world." he demands, his voice a mix of mock sternness and affection.

"you're not a rescue boyfriend, you're actually the best boyfriend in the world. i love you." he dips his head, placing a kiss on your lips before you both sit up.

"i love you too." george repeats, letting you cuddle into his side again.

in your tickle fight, you both momentarily forget where you are until you hear arthur speak, "you two are so cute."

a look is shared between you and you both know there's nowhere else you'd rather be than in this moment.

Heyyy I was wondering if you could write a gc fic about y/n being on her period and she is having really bad cramps. George would defo be so nice and offer to cuddle and try to comfort her when she is in pain 😊😊

the way i’m literally on my period rn with the WORST pain ☹️

after 22 years on earth, she thought she'd have found a way to deal with the pain that her periods always caused. it's always the worst few days of her life whenever it comes and george absolutely hates seeing her in pain when he can't do much to help.

she's at her flat, not wanting to annoy the boys with her mood swings and breakdowns, curled on the sofa hugging a hot water bottle. a platform roulette video playing on the tv to try and distract her from the cramps, but to no avail, her discomfort making it difficult to concentrate on anything.

the sound of keys in the door makes her smile, knowing it's george since he has his own set, praying he’s brought chocolate. the smile widens when she sees a waitrose bag in his hand, confirming her hopes.

"hi baby, still feeling rotten?" he asks, handing her the bag with a kiss to her forehead, "cramps?"

"mhm, they're really bad today." she nods with a pout as george starts redoing her hot water bottle since it’s now cold, "thank you for coming over."

"it's okay darling, wanna look after you." he reassures, giving her a sympathetic smile while she watches what he's doing.

he gives her the new hot water bottle and she gets up, asking him to lie down so she can lay in between his legs. once they're both comfortable, she lets out a content sigh, feeling at ease for the first time all day. the tablets have finally kicked in, and combined with the hot water bottle and george's hands rubbing her stomach, the pain is subsiding.

"can you pass me the bag, please?" he picks it up off the floor, letting her grab the chocolate bar before placing it back down, "thank you, you're the best."

"yea, i know," she turns in his hold, giggling at him while eating a piece of chocolate, "it's my job to look after you. you know? as the world's best boyfriend 'n all."

playfully rolling her eyes, she stretches to give him a few quick kisses while his hands stroke her back in a relaxing manner. her cheek is now pressed against his chest, with the hot water bottle on her lower back and arms wrapped around his middle.

she turns and faces the back of the sofa while the tv continues to play in the background, its brightness harsh on her eyes in contrast to the darkness of her living room. george pulls the blanket off the back of the sofa to cover them both, his heartbeat beginning to lull her into some much-needed sleep.

"go to sleep sweetheart, promise i'll be here when you wake up." he whispers into her hair, stroking it out of her face.

"i love you." she mumbles into his shirt, pulling the blanket over her a bit more.

"i love you too."

a/n sorry it’s short, also not proofread <33

requests are open guys <33 also if anyone has sent in a request that hasn't been done please resend it as tumblr has been deleting them even though i've had a notification </3

shush, it's a secret | george clarke

it's not unusual for you to be over at george's flat considering you and him met at university and both moved to london around the same time. but about four months ago, your relationship changed from close friends to just that, a relationship.

you'd both decided to not tell anyone, despite how difficult it was proving to be to not be all over each other 24/7. the fans knew of you, to an extent. you'd appear in the backgrounds of videos or tiktoks posted by the boys. your social media was public, however, none of your accounts included your name, making it less likely for fans to find you.

tonight, you're over at the flat again, legs strewn over george's lap and eating some of the dominoes he'd ordered. a movie chris had picked out plays on the tv, but was now long forgotten about since a debate has broken out amongst the boys. over what? you don't know. you're too focused on the way george's hand is subconsciously trailing up your thigh, dangerously high for a 'close friend'. he honestly hasn't noticed that he's doing it, too engaged in the ongoing debate. so, you pick your phone up from your chest and message him.

too high x

his phone dings and he leans forward, grabbing it off the table before noticing it was from you. you watch as his brows furrow in confusion, before sending him another message.

your hand x

realisation hits george and he squeezes your thigh gently as an apology, moving his hand back down to rest above your knees. he mouths 'sorry' at you, to which you can't help but giggle and shake your head. arthur (hill) looks between you two in slight confusion, going to say something but deciding to keep his mouth shut.

it wasn't that you didn't want to tell people, you'd both just agreed it would be easier figuring things out and adjusting to this shift in dynamic without other people prying their noses in. it didn't make the thrill of getting caught any less exciting though. even the simple things such as him wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your shoulder made you get an adrenaline rush.

you can feel your eyes growing heavy, despite it still being relatively early, and decide to call it a night.

"sorry guys but i'm gonna head to bed," an echo of boos fill the room while you shrug, laughing, "i'm tired guys leave me alone. mind if i crash in your bed george?"

it feels weird having to ask your boyfriend if you can sleep in his bed, but it seems to be doing the trick of keeping the relationship a secret. there are only three bedrooms and you've known george the longest, so it makes sense you'd stay in his room.

"no go for it, i probably won't be long." you give him a smile and climb off the sofa, heading to his room.

george's eyes widen when he next checks the time, not realising it was so late.

"shit." he mumbles to himself, gaining a weird look from the boys.

"you alright george?" arthur (hill) questions.

"yea i'm fine. just didn't realise it was so late that's all, got stuff to do tomorrow. i'm gonna go to bed though, night guys." he was lying right through his teeth, he had nothing to do tomorrow.

what george had meant to be ten minutes or so had turned into an hour and a half. arthur (tv) ended up coming over and they'd gotten so caught up in conversation that time seemed to fly by. he knows that you hate falling asleep without him and feels guilt seep into his skin. especially since he knows you won't ask for him to come to bed, not wanting it to come off weird since to the others, you're 'just friends'.

you're staring at the ceiling when he shuts his bedroom door, having fallen asleep for all of twenty minutes before you woke up to an empty bed over an hour ago.

"i'm so sorry baby, i didn't realise it had been that long," you turn to look at him, enjoying the way he starts stroking your cheek with his thumb, "have you been waiting for me?"

"mhm, fell asleep for about twenty minutes and been awake since. it's okay though, kept myself busy," george's jaw drops slightly, clearly misunderstanding your words, "oh my god george, no! i meant by reading some more of my book you perv. get your mind out the gutter."

he laughs and goes in to kiss you but you push his forehead away before he can. you scrunch up your face in disgust.

"ow, what was that for?" he's rubbing his forehead like you just hit him with a bat, making it much more dramatic than necessary.

"brush your teeth, you have pizza breath." he tries to do it again and catch you off guard but fails, "i mean it george."

"yes ma'am."

he disappears into the bathroom and returns a few minutes later. his teeth are brushed and he's wearing a pair of grey joggers. your arms open wide, inviting him to lay on top of you so you can run your nails through his hair and up and down his back. a feeling both of you love.

"can i kiss you now?" he teases, grin widening when you nod your head.

several kisses are planted on your face and you know he's purposefully missing your lips. you frown, wanting him to kiss you properly, not having felt his lips on yours in what felt like years. realistically, it's been a few hours.

"george, kiss me properly." you whine.

and he does just that. one hand holding himself up to hover over you, the other stroking your cheek and bringing you in closer until your lips finally meet. the kiss starts off slow and loving, until he presses you further into the mattress, his hands beginning to roam your body. every ounce of sleep you were feeling disappears, suddenly becoming hyper aware of what's happening.

pulling away, you mumble, "we can't, everyone's here. they'll hear us."

"never stopped us before." george whispers against your mouth, connecting your lips once again.

well touché.

a/n don't ask where the inspiration for this came from at 2 in the morning cause i don't have an answer. not proofread either sorryyy. shall i make a part two? i feel like i'll end up doing it anyway but what do you guys think??

Hiiiiii ❤️❤️

Would you be up for writing any George Clarke fics about labour or birth???

here you go lovely <3

if you had to describe your labour in three words they would be long, painful and frustrating.

baby girl clarkey had clearly found your uterus an enjoyable place to live the past nine months. you were nine days overdue when your water broke and throughout labour, she seemed to be refusing to descend. in an attempt to lessen the pain and quicken the process, the midwife recommended a birthing ball. you nodded, hoping gravity would do its job. you were also grateful for anything that would provide you with some relief. george carefully guided you to sit on the ball since he wanted to be useful in any way he could. a tired smile was thrown his way and he felt like crying seeing how much pain you were in.

"i'm so incredibly proud of you my love. it won't be long till we get to meet our babygirl," he presses a lingering kiss to your forehead and moves behind you to redo your hair, "i hope she looks like you."

"why?" you questioned, sensing the start of yet another contraction.

"cause you're beautiful."

"you're so cheesy." george's jaw dropped, pretending to be offended.

he started massaging your back as you concentrated on breathing through another contraction. the midwife kept checking your progress and her heartbeat and after what seemed like days, she finally said the words you were so excited and yet so scared to hear.

"alright y/n, it's time to push. let's have this baby." you turned to look at george, a terrified expression on your face.

"baby, you can do this. everyone knows it." he gave you a reassuring smile.

the midwife and george went to help you up off the ball to the bed before you stopped them, "wait, i want george there. on the bed i mean. behind me."

in a matter of seconds, he was on the bed after getting the midwife's nod of approval and removing his shoes and jumper. before the need to push hit, you got comfortable, laying against george's chest. screaming, crying, and lots of encouraging words filled the next few minutes. you gripped george's hands tightly as each contraction came and pushed hard until the sound you had been waiting months to hear filled the room.

your beautiful baby girl's cry.

she was placed on your chest, and a rush of overwhelming love and relief flooded over you. tears filled your eyes as you took in every detail of her. her tiny fingers and toes. her nose which she definitely got from you. everything about her was perfect. george, who was also crying, kissed your shoulder and stroked his baby girl's cheek.

"she's so perfect," he whispered, "i'm so, so, so proud of you. i love you."

BONUS

(i was gonna just end it there but i wanted to include telling the boys so have this)

you were in love with her, and both of you were enjoying and starting to adjust to life as a family of three, even if it had only been a few hours. labour had exhausted you but you seemed too overwhelmed with emotions to be able to sleep. you also hadn't had time to since both your families had arrived, wanting to meet the newest addition and check up on you both.

"george?" he hummed in acknowledgment, still enamored with his baby girl.

"you wanna facetime chris and them lot?" his head popped up at the question, moving from the side of the cot to sit by you on the bed.

"you sure? i don't want it to be too much. and i was quite enjoying our baby bubble." he brushed a piece of hair from your face, scanning your face for any sort of hesitance.

"me too," you agreed, "but i think they'll notice something's off when you don't go to the flat to watch the match tonight."

"well, i was still gonna go," he had a cheeky smirk on his face, watching for your reaction, to which you raise your eyebrows, "i'm joking. yea okay, let's facetime them."

george grabbed his phone and face timed chris, knowing the rest of the group will already be there for the match. the phone rang for a few seconds before he answered.

"alright mate?" chris asked, before realising george wasn't on his way like he thought he would be, "where are you? we're all waiting for you."

"uh, i actually won't make it tonight. something's come up. who's there anyway?" shouts of disappointment came from the other end of the phone and you couldn't help but quietly laugh.

"literally everyone. mr television, mr hill, chip, will, cal. you know the rest, do i have to name everyone? it's the boys." george cringed at that, knowing chris only says it to wind him up.

"chris, just shut up. can you put the phone somewhere please, i need everyone to be able to see me," you both watched as the phone was placed on the table and everyone filtered into shot one by one, "also, can someone please record this on their camera if they have it with them?"

you grabbed george's hand, knowing he was nervous, and nodded at him as though to ask if he was ready since you could hear some of the boys asking what was going on. he passed the phone to you, earning more looks of confusion before chip spoke up.

"y/n, we love you but what's with the teasing. we have a game to watch." you rolled your eyes, feeling the bed dip from george having just brought over your baby girl.

you couldn't contain your smile, "we have a surprise." you turned the camera to george, who was cradling your daughter in his arms.

the other end of the phone was silent for a few moments before they erupted into cheers.

"will, you owe me fifty quid." cal cheered, turning to him with a hand out expectantly.

"hang on a minute, you guys were betting on when i'd give birth?" you gasped as they all nodded their heads.

"you were nine days past your due date y/n. it was only a matter of time." will confirmed, handing cal his money.

"congratulations though guys, she's gorgeous. does she have a name yet?" arthur tv asked, as they all quieted down waiting.

you glanced at george, who nodded, knowing you had your heart set on a name, "yea. this is isla."

questions came one after the other from the boys, but george knew you were tired and isla needed to be fed. dad mode was evidently activated.

"guys calm down. we'll answer the questions when we see you but for now, you have a match to watch and we have a baby to feed. we just wanted you to know she was here." you all said goodbye to each other before the call ended, allowing you to go back to your own little bubble.

"we did it." you whispered, staring at the tiny little girl who somehow looked even smaller in george's arms.

"we did."

Heyy x can we get some George fluff about him feeling the baby kick,i feel like this would be so cute 😭😭

this is so cute!

your pregnancy makes george the happiest man alive but also a nervous wreck, overanalysing every reaction you have or situation you're in.

you're both laying on the sofa when it first happens. your back against his chest, leaning against him while one of his hands rests on your small bump, the other on your thigh.

"and then becky- woah." your eyes widen as you feel what you think is a light kick, instantly grabbing george's hand.

"woah what? are you okay? what happened?"

"did you feel that? baby just kicked me i swear." as you start to lightly press on your bump, a grin spreads over george's face and he starts recording on his phone to save the milestone.

"oh my god, i wanna feel. let me talk to him," you raise your eyebrows at george, who keeps insisting baby clarke is a boy, even though neither of you know the gender, "hey baby, as much as i love mum i need you to kick her again for me please. just don't hurt her."

"wait that worked, i can feel them moving. put your hand here." a few seconds later, there's another kick right where george is applying pressure.

and another.

and another.

"you've really woken up now huh?" you laugh at the comment and george rests his chin on your shoulder, repeatedly pressing light kisses across it, "this is mental."

"i know, i'm so excited to meet you sweetheart," you continue rubbing your bump and turn your head to look at george, "i love you george."

"i love you too darling."

and now ever since the baby kicked, george insists he has to have his hands on your bump whenever you're around, just in case they kick again.