#chrismd fluff

[orchidniins]

Cupid Clarkey | Chris Dixon

Summary: George Clarke plays matchmaker for his best friend and his flatmate. Pairing: ChrisMD x f!Reader, Best Friend!George Clarke Warning: Fluff Word count: 9.3k+ A/N: Thanks anon for this request! The timeline in the fic sorta jumps forward quickly (just don't think about it too much😗 ). This is my longest fic ever and I would really appreciate feedback on it! Hope you enjoy it!

Masterlist

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Can you get off my Hinge already, Y/N?” George's annoyed voice cut through the blaring music of the pub as he tried (and failed) to snatch his phone out of your hand.

“I'm trying to find you a girlfriend, Georgie,” you retorted, laughing as you dodged his attempts.

You were currently squished into a booth in the pub, sitting next to George, both of you a few drinks in (though you were definitely more drunk than him), swiping away on his Hinge profile and bickering like you two used to back in uni.

Having just moved to London a few weeks ago, tonight was a reunion of sorts. You were meeting up with George and a bunch of other friends from your uni days.

You and him had met in the first week of school, initially sitting next to each other in class, which turned into late-night study sessions and eventually blossomed into a close friendship.

George rolled his eyes. “Oh please, like you’re any better at this than I am.”

“Better at what? Being single or being hopeless at dating?” you shot back, smirking.

“How long has it been since your last relationship?” George challenged, raising an eyebrow at you.

You scoffed and looked back at him. “And how long has it been since you’ve been laid?” you teased, swiping left on yet another profile.

“Oh, trust me, Y/N, I get action,” George shot back, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Oh please, the only action you’ve seen is from your right hand,” you said, laughing at him.

“Well, that’s a lot coming from you,” George countered. “You haven’t dated since that prick from uni.”

“I actually enjoy being single,” you said, shrugging. “All you do is cry about it. You always say you want a girlfriend, but you turn down every girl that approaches you.”

George snorted. “Say that to the pint of ice cream you finished last week in under an hour while watching that chick movie and bawling your eyes out about wanting a boyfriend.”

“Whatever,” you huffed, turning back to his phone. “Oh, you got a match! I’m gonna message her.”

“Absolutely not!” George exclaimed, finally managing to pry his phone out of your hands. “Maybe if you were a little less picky, you wouldn’t be single.”

You looked at him in shock and surprise. “Really? You’re gonna talk to me about being picky?”

“You say that, but you’re the one with the mile-long checklist, not everyone can be as perfect as me, Y/N.” George retorted, shaking his head.

“If you’re so perfect, then maybe we should just date, Georgie,” you said jokingly, nudging him with your shoulder.

The both of you went silent for a moment, staring blankly at each other. Then, simultaneously, you shuddered at the thought. “No!” you both said in unison, laughing.

“God, that’d be like dating my sister,” George said, acting outwardly disgusted at your joke.

You stuck your tongue out at him, making a face.

You two continue your bickering, the atmosphere in the pub buzzing with laughter and chatter from your group of friends. After a while, your friends scatter around the pub, leaving just you and George in the booth. Just as you're deep in banter, an unfamiliar voice interrupts you two.

“Hey man,” a voice said, and you looked up to see a man with blonde curly hair approaching your booth. George got up to greet him, and from where you’re sitting, it’s very obvious that he was quite drunk himself.

"Chris, mate, how drunk are you already?" George asked, as if he had read your mind, with a chuckle, clapping Chris on the back.

Chris laughed, his grin widening. "Chip's pub golf videos always destroy me," he replied, his words slightly slurred as he swayed a little.

Chris glanced over at you, his eyes momentarily focusing as he took in your presence. "Hope I’m not interrupting," he said teasingly, turning back to George, flashing a mischievous grin.

George chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, mate, you're good. Go get yourself a drink and join us." Chris headed off to the bar, and George sat back down.

Chris returned with his drink and slid into the booth, his easy smile and sparkling eyes catching your attention.

“So, who’s your friend?” Chris asked, nodding towards you with a playful grin.

“Y/N, this is Chris, the flatmate,” George introduced, gesturing between the two of you. “Chris, this is Y/N, the best friend.”

“Hey, nice to meet you,” you greeted Chris warmly.

Chris grinned back at you. “George is wrong, you know. I’m the best friend.”

“No, you’re wrong. I've known him longer, so I am his only best friend,” you say, as you laugh at him.

“Don’t need to fight, guys,” George interjects, “There’s enough of me to go around.”

“That’s just not right,” Chris replies, ignoring George. “I live with him. Do you know how much shit I put up with? Surely that makes me his best friend.”

You chuckle, “Okay…but have you had him shotgun a can an hour before a final, puke all over your bed, and then have to clean it up and make sure he gets to campus in time?”

Chris grins, “Alright, but have you had to deal with his shit love life? Or lack thereof? And like have had to listen to him complain all the time.”

You exasperatedly add, “Yeah! Actually, I have,” you say, nodding at Chris.

You turn to George. “Honestly, George mate, you're a mess. I don’t even want to be your best friend anymore.”

Chris nods in agreement. “Yeah, man, you’re kind of a pain in the ass.”

George looks between the two of you, bewildered. “What the fuck is happening?”

You and Chris exchange a look. “Maybe we should become best friends and ditch George,” Chris suggests, winking at you.

“Guys, can we go back to both of you fighting over me?” George says, and you and Chris burst out laughing at him.

You find yourself feeling instantly drawn to Chris's charm. After a bit of small talk, you learn that Chris had been out for a shoot and decided to drop by the pub where George was once he finished. You had heard George talk about Chris before and all the antics they’d gotten up to, but you hadn’t paid much heed to it until now.

And as the night went on and you got increasingly drunker, you found yourself sitting closer to Chris. George already knew this about you; you always got increasingly flirty and bolder when you were drunk—a stark contrast to your sober self. 

Usually, George was always one of your victims, jokingly hitting on him to piss him off, and he also always had to keep you away from creepy men when you were drunk. But now, with Chris in the mix, George honestly did not know what to say at the scene in front of him.

(A/N: I have no game whatsoever. Even if I did pull in the past, I was so drunk that I genuinely don’t remember. I did my best I promise)

“You’re pretty cute for someone who’s friends with George,” you say to Chris, a playful smile on your lips as you take another sip of your cocktail.

Chris grins and leans in closer. “And you’re pretty hot for someone who hangs out with him.”

You laugh, inching closer to him and playfully touching his bicep. "I know, I'm just naturally irresistible," you tease, giving him a sly look that hints at something more.

Chris chuckles, his eyes twinkling. “Well, I believe it. If you weren’t George’s friend, I’d have made a move on you the second I walked in.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning in so your lips are just inches from his ear. “Who says you can’t make a move now?” you whisper, your breath warm against his skin. “Who knows, tonight might be your night.”

Chris’s breath hitches, his gaze darkening. “Is that so?” 

George groans. “You two are disgusting. Chris, stop hitting on her. Y/N get away from him!”

You brush off George, leaning even closer into Chris’s touch. “Ignore him, he’s no fun.” 

Chris says, "He's just jealous that I’ve got the attention of someone this beautiful," he murmurs back, his lips brushing lightly against your earlobe, his voice low and you hear George scoff in the back.

George rolls his eyes dramatically. “I can’t take any more of this. You two are unbearable.” He stands up, shaking his head. “I’m going to go close out our tab. You better be five feet apart when I get back.”

As George walks away, you and Chris are left alone, practically glued together at this point. “Looks like it’s just us now,” Chris murmurs, his hand migrating to your thigh, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

You smile coyly, leaning closer to him. “And what do you plan to do now that it’s just us?” you tease, your voice laced with playful anticipation.

Chris chuckles softly, his breath warm against your ear. “When George told me about you, he didn’t mention how incredibly sexy you are. If I had to be around someone as gorgeous as you, I wouldn’t be able to control myself.”

Your heart flutters at his words, and you feel a rush of desire. “Well, it looks like you’re doing a pretty good job of controlling yourself so far,” you reply, your fingers playing with the collar of his shirt.

Chris’s eyes darken with desire. “Who says I’m trying to control myself?” he murmurs, his lips hovering just above yours, lips so close that they are almost touching.

Before things could escalate further between you and Chris, George returned, breaking the intense moment. "Okay, I think it's time to get you two home," he announced.

Despite your protests, he manages to pull you off of Chris. As you stood up, the effects of the alcohol hit you, causing you to stumble. George quickly steadied you, his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you from falling over.

Realizing it was late and knowing you were in no state to go home alone, George insisted you crash at his place, which was closer than yours and the three of you hailed a cab back to the boy’s flat. 

Once there, George quickly dumps Chris in his room, before he sets you up in his own bed. He offers you some of his clothes to change out of your outfit and he opts to sleep on the couch for the night.

As you drifted towards sleep, the alcohol slowly wearing off, you couldn't help but rethink the events of the night. All your actions start to blur now, though a wave of embarrassment washes over you. You knew there would be consequences to face in the morning, but for now your body needed sleep.

-------⋆✧⋆-------

The next morning, you wake up with a pounding headache, the hazy memories of the previous night lingering in your mind. As the realization of your interaction with Chris sets in, all you wanted to do was bury yourself six feet under.

You stumble out of George’s bed, groaning softly as your head throbs. Dressed in George's oversized clothes, you made your way to the kitchen, clutching your head, desperately in need of coffee.

As you enter, you freeze at the sight of Chris, who’s already there, shuffling around in the kitchen.

He’s dressed in grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, his hair tousled and the hangover evident on his face. You catch a glimpse of his abs when he reaches up to a cupboard, and despite your headache, you can’t help but stare for a moment, your brain going to dangerous places.

Chris turns around and spots you, offering a weak smile. You look away slightly embarrassed, fearing that you were caught staring. “Morning,” he says, his voice hoarse as he clears his throat.

“Morning,” you reply, trying to muster a smile despite the awkward tension that has settled into the air.

There’s a long, uncomfortable silence as you both avoid each other’s eyes, the memory of your flirtatious behavior lingering between you. Chris pours himself a glass of water, and you take the opportunity to grab a mug for coffee, hoping the caffeine will help clear your head. “Do you want a cup as well?” you ask, trying to break the silence.

“Huh? No, thanks,” he responds, clearly drawing himself out of wherever he had zoned out to for a minute.

“So, uh,” Chris begins hesitantly, stopping for a moment when you both hear George stirring on the couch. Chris gestures toward the balcony, and you grab your coffee and follow him outside. Once you two are there, you lean against the railing, both of you awkward, neither knowing what to say.

Chris is the first to break the silence, rubbing the back of his neck. “…last night…was something...I guess we were pretty drunk.”

“Yeah,” you agree quickly, trying to downplay your embarrassment. “Pretty drunk.”

He chuckles nervously. “I don’t usually… you know, act like that.”

“Me neither,” you admit, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “It was just the alcohol, I guess.”

“Definitely,” he nods, relief evident in his expression. “We can just, uh, forget about it, right?”

“Absolutely,” you say a bit too quickly. But, you feel your heart drop a little, though you don’t know why. Him wanting to not acknowledge what happened yesterday (though it was nothing) makes you slightly upset, but you don’t let it show on your face. You bury your face in your coffee, avoiding his gaze.

It was insane how comfortable you two were around each other last night, and now the air was replaced with this heavy awkwardness that neither of you knew how to break. And the worst part is you couldn’t even remember all that you did yesterday (But you're sure George won't let you forget).

“So, um, any plans for today?” Chris asks, trying to make small talk and pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Um, what? No, nothing. Just gonna get back to my place and crash,” you say, shaking your head. “You?” you ask him.

“Same,” he says. You nod in response, but neither of you knows how to continue. You both stand there, sipping your drinks and stealing glances at each other, the awkwardness palpable.

“So I should go,” you say, trying to get out of that situation as quickly as possible. Chris just nods, and you step back into the apartment, making a beeline for George’s room, just wanting to get out of there and back to your own space as quickly as possible.

All you can think is, what the hell is wrong with you? You weren’t usually like this with people…what is happening?

-------⋆✧⋆-------

After that day, George teased you endlessly about what happened with Chris. Each time, you brushed him off, ignoring his jabs, saying you didn’t want to talk about it or that you didn’t remember what happened, unwilling to revisit the embarrassing memories of that night.

You’d run into Chris a few times when you were over at the flat with George, but those interactions weren’t any better. Your interactions with Chris went from awkward to him just plain ignoring your presence now, and you didn’t know what you did wrong. Combined with how embarrassed you still felt about your actions, you decided it was better to just ignore him as well.

George would drop you knowing looks whenever that happened, but when he saw that you really didn’t want to talk about it, he eventually dropped the topic.

Until today, that was.

“I’m not feeling up to it,” you tell George, speaking with him over the phone.

“Come on, it’ll be fun. Just a movie night with some friends,” George tries to persuade you.

“I don’t know, George. I’m just not in the mood,” you reply, feeling a mix of anxiety and reluctance.

George sighs, knowing exactly why you’re hesitant. “Look, I get that things are awkward between you and Chris. But avoiding each other isn’t going to make it any better. We’re all friends here. Just come over, watch a movie, and relax. You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to.”

You hesitate, biting your lip. “I just... I feel so embarrassed about everything. I don’t want to make things weird.”

“See, I don’t know exactly what’s going on with the both of you, but I can tell you’re overthinking it. Things are only as awkward as you make them. We’ll have a good time, I promise. And if it gets too much, you can always leave. Just give it a chance, yeah?”

You sigh, feeling the weight of his words. “You’re right. I’m just overthinking. It’s not a big deal. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Great! I’ll see you soon,” George says, the excitement evident in his voice.

And that is how you found yourself sitting on the floor in George’s flat, leaning up against the couch with "The Hangover" playing on the TV.

You were bundled up in a blanket, surrounded by scattered cushions, with the smell of popcorn in the air. George was sitting on the couch just behind you, lazily flicking popcorn at your head, which you returned by swatting him on the knee.

“Seriously, George, you’re worse than a child,” you scolded, turning around to look at him as another popcorn kernel hit you on the forehead.

“Can’t help it,” he replied with a grin. You whacked him on the thigh this time, but he still threw another piece your way.

It was just George and the Arthurs for now. Despite your cold conversations with Chris, you couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit disappointed when George mentioned that Chris would be running late. Even with the weird energy between you two, you were kind of maybe hoping to see him today.

You were enjoying yourself, though. You’d met Arthur Hill a few times before and got along really well, and this was your first time meeting Mr. Television (as George liked to call him), and you were having a great time with the boys.

You pull your focus away from George and instead decide to just watch the movie when you hear the door open, and your eyes dart to the entrance. Chris walks in, dressed in dark cargos and a black sweatshirt, his curls messy from the day and it made him look a little rugged, and all you could think about was how good you thought he looked.

He swings his backpack onto the floor and starts taking off his coat, before he greeted everyone.

Your heart skips a beat at how effortlessly attractive he looked. Despite the cold vibes he had been giving you this whole time, you couldn’t deny your attraction towards him.

Outwardly, you were trying to be cool about it, but inwardly, you were itching to know why he was acting like this. You give him a tight-lipped smile as you make brief eye contact, but he quickly looks away, heading to his room.

George noticed the exchange and shook his head slightly. You shot him a look that said ‘stop it’, but you knew he’d bring this up later.

After a few minutes, Chris joins you all, settling on the floor next to you while the others remain on the couch. Other than the occasional instances where you pass him the popcorn, he avoids eye contact, but you can sometimes feel his gaze on you, especially when you and George bicker in loud whispers.

You reach for the coffee table, grabbing a can of seltzer, about to take a sip, only for George to snatch it out of your hand. “George!” you exclaim, swatting him on the arm before you wipe away the few drops of the drink that he managed to spill on your shirt.

You think you hear a chuckle from Chris, but when you turn to look in the direction of the sound, his eyes are glued to the TV.

After a bit, Chris gets up and heads to the kitchen. When he returns, he silently hands you a drink. You take it with a small, surprised smile, touched by the sweet gesture even if things between you two are still a little awkward. "Thanks," you murmur.

He nods in response, his genuine smile making your heart flutter before his eyes flick away from yours, and you feel yourself melt.

As the credits roll on the third film, George nudges you and suddenly pulls you into his room.

“What the fuck is going on with you and Chris?” George asks bluntly, shutting the door behind him.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “Honestly, I have no idea. After that day at the pub, it’s been so weird. I don’t even know the guy, and I feel like he hates me or something. Is he like this with everyone he just meets?”

George frowns, looking apologetic. “Not really… Normally, you can’t get him to shut up.”

“I get such cold vibes from him,” you admit, frustration seeping into your voice. “What did I do wrong?… Whatever, I don’t care, but its annoying.” You pause, then add with a small, reluctant smile, “It doesn’t help that every time I look at him, I drool.”

George responds, slightly shocked, “I—I’m sorry, what?”

You roll your eyes and say, “I’ve been single for so long that I’m even attracted to your shitty friend.”

George laughs, shaking his head. “He can get on your nerves, but he’s not that bad. But, he can be a little socially challenged around people he—”

George stops mid-sentence, seeming to have a moment of realization, his expression shifting. “Huh.”

“What? What’s wrong?” you ask, confused.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” he says quickly, disappearing out of the room before you can press further.

You stand there confused for a second before you return to the living room, where Arthur Hill and Arthur TV was tidying up. You decide to join them, looking around, wondering where George and Chris had suddenly disappeared to.

You help them gather the empty bottles and snack wrappers, making small talk. Just as you're finishing up, George and Chris reappear, both looking shady as hell, whispering to each other. 

You look at George, giving him a pointed look. "What was that about?" you whisper, nodding toward Chris, who was leaning against the kitchen counter with the Arthurs, laughing about something.

George shrugs, trying to play it cool. "Nothing, just guy talk."

You give him a look. "Tell me."

"Really, it was nothing," he insists.

You roll your eyes, annoyed. "Fine, whatever, don’t tell me. I need to get home anyway, it’s getting late."

George quickly checks the time on his phone. "It’s almost midnight. Why don’t you just sleep here?"

"I just wanna be back in my own bed. At midnight is not that late, and I barely live like a 15 min walk away," you explain to him.

"You can just as easily walk home in the morning," he says.

Before you can protest, he continues, "You know what, fine. But I don’t want you going home alone." He turns toward the kitchen and shouts, "Chris! Do you mind driving Y/N back home? I would do it myself…but can’t drive mate."

Chris whips around, looking between the two of you, clearly flustered at George’s request. "Uh, sure, no problem."

You quickly interject, "It's okay, I can get home on my own. I don’t want to trouble you."

Chris clears his throat. "It's no trouble," he assures you, grabbing his keys. "Let's go."

You grab your stuff and walk out the door with him. The ride down in the elevator is silent. You play with your nails, trying to avoid his gaze, while he shifts uncomfortably beside you. When you reach the car, Chris opens the door for you, and you thank him. "Thanks, Chris."

"Don’t thank me yet," he jokes as you both buckle up. "I’ve only had my UK license for a month now, so we’ll see how this goes."

You look at him, slightly alarmed. "Seriously? Get me out of the car."

He laughs, and you join in. "I know how to drive, I just haven’t driven much since I moved to London."

Some of the tension eases, and you both relax a bit. He hands you his phone. "Can you enter your address into the GPS?"

You do, and as he starts driving Chris glances at you, "So, why did you move to London?"

You smile, happy to have a conversation starter. "Work, mostly. And also ‘cause I have friends here.”

He nods. “So, you liking London so far?”

You nod, looking at him as you speak. “Yeah, I like it. But the city gets overwhelming sometimes. Sometimes I just wanna run back home.”

Chris nods in agreement. “Same, especially when I miss my family. And I get it, sometimes you need to get away from George.”

You chuckle, wanting to keep the conversation going. “Be honest with me… how have you not killed him yet?”

He laughs, responding, “I won’t lie, I’ve plotted his murder many a times.”

You both laugh, and the conversation continues, light-hearted and easy. For the first time in like a month, the conversation between you two feels natural. And before you know it, you’d reached your apartment.

"Thanks for the ride, Chris," you say, unbuckling your seatbelt.

"No problem," he replies, his smile genuine. The air goes silent as you both stare at each other.

"Umm... goodnight," you say, quickly getting out of the car, feeling a tad bit awkward.

"Goodnight," he responds, and you gently close the door.

He waits until you're inside the building before driving off, and for the first time, you feel a warm, hopeful sensation in your chest and you can’t seem to wipe away the smile on your face the whole way up to your flat.

-------⋆✧⋆-------

The next day, you and George meet for dinner after you’re done with work. “I can’t believe he’s engaged”, you say as you move your food around on your plate, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Why do you care?” George asks between bites of his burger. “You hated him by the end of your relationship.”

“I know, but why does someone like him get to be happy?” you sighed. “I’m just tired of being single. Why is it so hard to find someone half decent?”

“Maybe you’re looking in the wrong places,” George says, trying to sound all philosophical.

You raise an eyebrow. “What are you on about?”

He shrugs, laughing as he says, “Maybe you should date Chris.”

You almost choke on your drink. “Chris? Really? Chris? We can barely hold a conversation!”

George smirks. “Didn’t you say you guys got along fine last night? And don’t get me started on drinks last month. And don’t lie to me…you think he’s hot,” he says, making a fake gag face.

“What? No, I don’t,” you protest. “I might be desperate, George, but not desperate enough to date your friends.”

“What’s wrong with dating one of my friends?” George mocks hurt.

“I was kinda hoping that once I got a boyfriend, I just wouldn’t have to see you anymore,” you joke.

George clutches his chest dramatically. “Ouch!”

The drive with him the other day was fine, more than fine and he was kind of sweet actually. You laugh, but the thought of dating Chris stays on your mind, an idea that you might not be all that opposed to. -------⋆✧⋆-------

A week had passed since your conversation with George, and despite trying not to let it affect you too much, you couldn't deny still feeling on cloud nine after that drive with Chris (even if it was barely 10 minutes long).

You and Chris were now following each other on social media. You'd occasionally chat or reply to each other's stories, gradually warming up to each other. You found yourself craving more time alone with him, curious about what it would be like to get to know him better.

But right now, you were looking forward to a quiet weekend in, finally getting to that book you had been putting off for weeks now. With a cozy blanket wrapped around you and a hot cup of tea, you settle onto your couch, eager to dive into your book.

Just as you start to get lost in the pages, a notification pops up on your screen. You peek over at your phone and see a text message from George.

George: Hello best friend Y/N: What do you want? George: Wow. Warm welcome Y/N: Fine. Hiii Georgieeee….What do you want? George: So you know how you are the smartest, strongest person I know 🥺 Y/N: Just spit it out 🙄 George: Can you please come over and help me build that dresser I ordered for my room? Y/N: And there it is... George: So..?  Y/N: No, don’t want to. George: Pleaseeeeee….I’ll buy you food Y/N: No George: Come on, please 😩 Y/N: No….you’re gonna make me do all the work George: I won’t...and I’ll throw in dessert  Y/N: You’re impossible  George: 👀 Y/N: Fine….See you in 10  George: 🫡🙇

With a sigh, you set your book aside and started getting ready to head over to George's place. Not bothering to change out of your comfy sweats, you threw on a jacket and made your way out.

When you arrived at George's flat, you knocked on the door and waited. To your surprise, Chris answered, looking equally surprised to see you. "Hey, Y/N. What are you doing here?"

“George asked me to come over, said he needed help building his dresser”, you explain, and Chris steps aside, letting you step inside.

Chris says, “Hmm, he asked me to help as well, after complaining for a straight 5 mins about not wanting to do it on his own.”

"That little bitch," you huffed, pulling out your phone from your pocket.

Y/N: Where the fuck are you!!??? George: Sorry emergency Y/N: What?  George: Please help a guy out Y/n: Why!? It’s your dresser! George: Chris will help Y/N: Wait George: Bye

You breathed out in frustration, realizing all too well what George was trying to do. Deep down, though, you were somewhat glad to have some time alone with Chris. Fingers crossed you'd be able to hold a conversation today.

You huffed and shoved your phone in your pocket, then turned to face Chris. "Yep, he's ditched us, the bastard," you said, looking back up at Chris who was watching you with an amused expression.

Chris chuckled, and you felt a bit self-conscious. "What?"

"The Powerpuff Girls?" he asked, a small smile curling up on his lips.

"What? I'm here to build furniture, not walk a red carpet," you replied, glancing down at your pajamas, trying to appear nonchalant but secretly cursing yourself for not dressing better. Chris just laughed, shaking his head.

“Great…it’s just the two of us." you said, catching Chris's attention as he looked at the unpacked table pieces that George had left for you.

Chris raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on his lips. "You act like it's a bad thing."

You chuckled, picking up a screwdriver. "Let's just survive this project together first."

"Survive? Geez…It's just an Ikea dresser," Chris teased, walking towards the scattered pieces.

"Yeah, but have you ever tried assembling furniture with George? He pulls everything out of the box, doesn’t organize anything by the way, then he just gives up and leaves you to figure stuff out," you vented, holding up a loose screw you found on the floor a good distance from the table for emphasis.

Chris laughed, shaking his head. "Can't say that I have. Lucky for me you’re here to pick up the pieces," he joked lamely, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes, letting out a small laugh at his attempt.

"Let’s just build this stupid thing," you said, walking towards the mess.

Chris chuckled. "Yes, ma'am," he replied, looking around for the instruction manual.

Chris sighed in frustration, looking through the jumbled pieces. "Damn, where did George put those instructions?"

"Knowing George, he probably already threw out the instructions with the outer box," you said, half-jokingly. You fear you might be right, shuffling through everything and not finding the booklet.

You sit on the ground and try to organize the pieces, placing everything into neat piles. Chris picked up a piece and moved to place it in what he thought was the right pile.

"No, not that one," you said, pointing to a different pile. "Put that there."

Chris chuckled. "You're a little type A, aren't you?"

You grinned. "That's not the insult you think it is." You laughed lightly, enjoying the banter.

The two of you get on with trying to put the piece of furniture together.

Chris was completely engrossed in screwing in the legs, his brow furrowed in concentration. You couldn’t help but notice how his features hardened with determination, and you find him extremely attractive in this moment.

"You're really into this," you teased lightly, nudging him with your elbow as you passed him the next piece.

Chris glanced up, a playful glint in his eye. "Of course. Gotta impress you with my handyman skills."

You chuckled, kneeling down to align a set of screws. "Impress me, huh? Well, if you can get through this without instructions, color me impressed."

“Prepare to be amazed, Y/N,” Chris replied with a grin, returning to his task.

Your eyes involuntarily lingered on his arms, noticing how his t-shirt hugged his muscles snugly. You found yourself imagining running your hands across his arms and over his chest, remembering how you felt that night when inhibitions were lower.

Chris's voice snapped you out of your daze. "Sorry, what was that?" you asked, needing him to repeat his words.

"No, I was just…" Chris paused for a moment, sitting on the floor, pausing the task at hand. He hesitated as he looked up at you.

"Go on, what is it?" you encouraged him, curious about his question.

He started cautiously, "I've always wondered, why did you and George never date?"

You laughed softly, surprised by the question. “George? I don’t know, it’s just something that never happened. I don't even think either of us ever even considered our relationship to go that way”

Chris gives you a skeptical look, "Really? Not even once?"

"Not even once," you confirmed, shaking your head. "George and I have always been more like siblings."

Chris nodded softly, as if processing your answer. "Good to know."

Though slightly taken aback by his reaction, you chose not to dwell on it for too long.

“How did your shoot go this week?” you ask him.

Chris perks up a little, clearly pleased by your interest. "Oh, it was great! But it did go a lot longer than usual. I'll blame that on Arthur and his terrible football skills. But the audience will never find out. I should probably pay my editors more for making him look somewhat competent at football."

You both laugh, and Chris continues to talk about YouTube and some of his ideas. You can't help but smile at how passionate and happy he sounds when he talks about his work.

After a while, you two pull yourselves out of the conversation and get back to finishing the dresser. 

"So, if you had to rate my IKEA furniture-building skills, what would you give me?" Chris asks, a playful grin on his face as the two of you now sit on the couch.

"Hmm," you ponder, pretending to be deep in thought. "Solid seven."

"Seven!?" Chris asks, feigning outrage, leaning in a little closer. "I thought I did pretty good."

"It would be higher, but you get distracted easily," you tell him, the space between you and Chris now barely a breath.

"Well, you were the one distracting me," Chris says, and you're taken aback by his comment. Your mouth falls slightly open, suddenly very aware of the proximity between you two.

Before you can respond, the door swings open, and George walks in, looking between the two of you with a mischievous grin. "Well, you two seem to be getting along well." You quickly get up from your place next to Chris.

You stare back blankly at George, arms crossed over your chest. "How was your... emergency?"

George's grin widens. "All sorted," he replies nonchalantly, before turning around to enter his room. "So which one of you is gonna help me move the dresser into my room?"

You and Chris exchange annoyed looks, then smile at each other, his smile exceedingly tugging at your heart, before you both scream, "Do it yourself!"

-------⋆✧⋆-------

Over the next few weeks, you and Chris had become friends, finding yourself spending time with him more often. You still couldn’t believe that just a few months ago you two couldn’t even look each other in the eye. 

However, it seemed like every time you made plans with George or any of his friends, Chris was always there, and you two would magically end up alone together. You didn't think much of it, knowing that as much as you loved George, you hated him meddling in your love life, and he knew that as well. So, there’s no way he was involved, right? (Or maybe, deep down, you hoped that all the time you’ve been able to spend with Chris was somewhat of a sign and not your nosy best friend getting involved.)

You were at George’s place yet again (where else could you be? You only had like two friends) and helping him clean out his closet, stuffing his old clothes into donation boxes.

Slyly, you asked, “Where are the rest of your flatmates?”

George replied, “You know…they’re around,” without making eye contact, his back turned to you.

“And Chris?” you asked, slightly hopeful.

George looked up at you, almost as if he was wishing that you hadn’t asked that question.

You caught his expression, furrowing your eyebrows in worry. “What’s wrong?”

George placed the T-shirt he was folding gently into the box before turning to look at you. “Okay, so don’t get upset.”

“Why would I get upset?” you asked, a little concerned.

“Before I tell you, know that I told him not to do it,” George started.

“George... speak,” you demanded, poking him in the chest.

“Chris is out on a date,” he finally said.

You feel your heart plummet to the pit of your stomach, “Oh, good for him.”

George looked at you, clearly noticing your attempt to hide your disappointment. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be okay?” you said, trying to brush it off and distract yourself by placing more clothes into the box.

“Y/N, come on. You really don’t think I know you better than you know yourself?” he looked at you matter-of-factly and you were struggling to maintain eye contact with him.

“I’m fine, George,” you tell him, trying to get him to drop the topic, but he only looks at you like he doesn't believe you.

“Y/N. I know you like Chris”, he states and you feel your whole body freeze.

“What? No, I don’t,” you retorted, and honestly, even you couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth.

“Y/N—”

“George—”

“I see the way you look at him, Y/N, and when he speaks, you hang on his every word,” he interrupts you.

“George, no... Chris and I, we’re just barely friends,” you try to explain to him.

“I know you two had a rocky start, well, a drunk and touchy start,” he teased, dodging the T-shirt you threw at him, “but you’ve grown closer over the past few months and I think you’re just in denial about your feelings. Plus you look like you wanna jump him every time you look at him.”

You sat there on the edge of the bed for a minute, thinking about what George had said. Yes, things were a little iffy at the start, but you had grown to like his company. He was funny, quite sweet, and in recent times, easy to talk to. Not to mention, every time you looked at the man, it was like your brain short-circuited at how hot he looked.

George carefully considered his words before continuing. “You’ve always been like this, Y/N…cautious.”

As his words sank in, it dawned on you.

“Holy fuck, George! I like Chris,” you exclaimed, falling back onto the bed. “How did this happen? I feel like I’ve gone insane. When did I become so blind to my own feelings?”

George watched you in amusement, a small smile playing on his lips. “Took you long enough to admit it.”

“But–-,” you sat up, turning to George who was now sitting on the opposite corner of the bed, “there’s no way he likes me back.”

“Eh?” George responded, confused. “Why would you think that?”

“Because the guy is literally on a date right now,” you say, exasperated.

“So?”

“What do you mean, “So”? If he liked me even a little bit, he wouldn’t be going on dates,” you say, throwing your hands up in frustration.

“Probably because he doesn’t know you like him. Just tell the guy,” he suggests, his face soft, laced with concern.

“I can’t do that,” you look at him, your voice coming out almost broken.

“Why?” George comes to sit next to you, placing a comforting hand on your back.

You take a deep breath before you continue, “Because things just got somewhat good with him. We’re finally past that awkward phase and are friends now. I don’t want to go back to that cold phase when he ultimately rejects me.”

“He’s not gonna reject you, Y/N,” he says, throwing his arm around, pulling you into his side.

“How do you know?” you look up at him.

“For Christ’s sake, Y/N, just tell the guy how you feel.” he says, as he pulls away from you so that you’re both now facing each other.

“No, I can’t do that,” you said, getting up off his bed and heading out of his bedroom.

“What, Y/N! Where are you going?” he asked, following you.

“Home,” you said, making a beeline for the door.

“Why?"

“So that I can go to bed and wake up and forget about all of this,” you said looking back at him, hand now on the door knob.

“Y/N…”

“Bye, George,” you said, before opening the main door and closing it behind you, confusion and uncertainty swirling in your head.

-------⋆✧⋆-------

“Here,” Arthur Hill handed you a drink, and you threw him a quick thanks, quickly gulping down the liquid. Arthur looked at you, concerned. The party was lively around you, the usual chaos of a house party at George’s place.

George had convinced you to come to the party, saying it’d be a good distraction, to get your mind off of things—things being Chris. 

George had promised you that Chris was busy tonight and wouldn’t be here, so you reluctantly agreed (though George had to beg a lot more than he was hoping he’d have to).

You had only arrived a few minutes ago, and you already wanted to leave. You just wanted the peace and quiet of your room to contemplate about your doomed love life and drown your sorrows in a pint of ice cream.

“You okay?” Arthur asked, pulling you out of your daze. “You look distracted.”

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied with a half-hearted smile and you were grateful that Arthur didn’t push any further.

"I'm gonna get myself another drink," you said, and Arthur nodded in response before you navigated through the crowd toward the kitchen.

You made yourself a drink, pouring whatever bottle of alcohol was closest to your reach into your cup, wanting something strong. If you couldn’t drown yourself in ice cream, alcohol would have to do. (Not your smartest idea, but oh well.)

You took a sip of your concoction, the liquid burning as it flowed down your throat. You turned around but just as you were about to head back to find Arthur, when you spotted him. Chris.

He was the last person you wanted to see right now, but you couldn’t take your eyes off him. How did he manage to get even hotter than the last time you’d seen him? (Honestly, it was torture.)

But there he was, talking to some girl you’d never seen before. The sight felt like a punch in the stomach, knocking the air out of your lungs. All you wanted to do was leave. You placed your drink on the counter and set your sights straight at the door. In your haste, you didn’t pay much attention to your surroundings and bumped into someone. Looking up, you saw it was George.

"Whoa, where's the fire?" George asked, blocking your path.

"George, I need to leave," you said, trying to sidestep him.

“Why? What happened?” he asked, but before you could answer, he glanced over your shoulder and saw Chris. “Oh, I see.”

“Just talk to him, Y/N,” he tried to persuade you. “Whatever the outcome, it’ll make you feel better.”

“George, are you crazy? I can’t” You looked up at him, and the vulnerable look in your eyes made his heart break.

“Fine, but please don’t leave. Just take a breather for a minute. You should at least stay and enjoy the party,” he insisted. You opened your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off, “Just stay in my room for a bit. You can come back out after a while.”

You agreed, knowing he wouldn’t take no for an answer, and turned towards his room. “Good,” he said, pushing you gently by the shoulders.

Once you were in his room, you turned to look at him. “Now stay put, I’ll be right back.” You nodded, and he headed back out of the room.

You took a seat on his bed, and before you knew it, you heard the door open. Expecting to see George, you froze when you found Chris instead.

“George, what are you doing?” Chris protested as George pushed him into the room. “Stop, bro!”

You got up and shout, “George! What the hell?”

“You two talk,” George said, pointing at both of you before quickly shutting the door. You heard the lock click.

You rushed to the door, trying to turn the knob, but it wouldn’t budge. “Bastard locked us in,” you said to Chris.

“George! Let me out!” you protested, banging on the door.

“Not until you two talk to each other,” George yelled back.

You turned to find Chris looking just as surprised as you. “Well, this is awkward,” Chris said, rocking back and forth on his feet with his hands shoved into his pockets. “I might be wrong...but I think George wants us to talk.”

You sighed, leaning against the door. “Yeah, he’s a lot of things… but subtle, he is not.”

Chris chuckled. “What gave it away?”

Your suspicions were right. That motherfucker had been playing you this whole time, getting Chris to drive you home, finding ways to get the two of you to spend time alone, locking you in his room. And you’d walked right into it. Idiot.

“That slimy little shithole,” you muttered to yourself.

You laughed out loud. “So George seems to think we would make a good match.”

“What?” Chris said, looking nervous.

“Did you not realize?” You looked at Chris, and he was staring at you with an unrecognizable look on his face.

“Well…” he started sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “I kind of knew.”

“What do you mean you knew, Chris?” you asked, confused.

“I mean, I knew George was trying to set us up, he sort of told me he would, that day that you were over at our place for movie night.” he admitted.

“I’m sorry…?” you ask him again, arms crossed.

You raised an eyebrow. “And you were okay with it? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Chris sighed. “I promise, I told him not to! And I just didn’t know how to bring it up..... But honestly, I didn’t mind. I liked spending time with you.”

You felt your heart skip a beat. “What? You liked spending time with me?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’ve kind of liked you since the day we first met in the pub.”

“But that was months ago,” you said, incredulous. “Why didn't you say anything till now?”

He sighed, looking down for a moment before meeting your eyes. “I don’t know. All I know is that every time I look at you, it’s like the words leave my mouth. Of course, I wanted to talk to you after that night, but I didn’t know what came over me every time. You’re literally the most gorgeous woman I’d ever laid my eyes on, and each time I wanted to ask you out, I’d choke up.” “But what about that date?” you asked, trying to process everything. “If you liked me so much, then why did you go on a date?”

Chris looked a little guilty. “George told you about that?” You nodded before he continued, “You can’t blame a guy for trying to move on, especially when a girl like you couldn’t possibly like me back,” he said softly.

You shook your head. “Chris, I… I’ve liked you too. I think I’ve liked you the whole time. But I didn’t think you did, especially after how everything was after we got drunk that night.”

Chris stepped closer, hope in his eyes. “You like me too?” he asked again, making sure he wasn’t wrong about what he heard.

“Yes, Chris, I like you too,” you responded.

“So we’re both hopeless in the love department?” he asked.

“Yep, looks like it,” you said, laughing. “So hopeless that we needed Cupid Clarkey to get us to finally admit our feelings.”

You both stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.

Chris stopped to look at you, stepping even closer. “God, I love your laugh,” he said softly, and you looked at him shyly.

“And you have the most amazing eyes I’ve ever seen,” you stepped closer as well and he flashes that gorgeous smile of his, the kind that gets your stomach in knots.

He said, “You know, I regret nothing from that night.”

You replied teasingly, “Really?”

He nodded, “Well, there’s only one thing I regret.”

You asked, “And what’s that?”

He said, “That I didn’t get to kiss you,” as he tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, his eyes go dark and intense, piercing into your soul.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” you whispered, and with that, Chris crashed his lips onto yours.

The kiss was everything you’d dreamed of and more. His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer, while your arms made their way around his neck and your hand tangling into those perfect curls of his, tugging slightly, earning a groan from him.

The kiss was filled with so much emotion, both of you pouring everything into it—all the pent-up feelings from the past months. It was intense, and full of passion and tenderness, leaving you breathless. You could feel his heart pounding in sync with yours, the heat between you two electrifying. It was as if the world had melted away, and there was nothing but this moment.

Chris pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he whispered.

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his breath against your lips. “Me too.”

Before either of you could say anything else, you heard a slight thud outside the door. Chris gave you a knowing look, and you raised your voice intentionally louder. “Well, George’s bed looks nice doesn’t it? I think he just put new sheets on.”

Chris chimes up, “Maybe we should use it. We’re locked in here anyways. Might as well make the most of our time.”

Immediately, you heard George unlocking the door, bursting into the room. “Okay, get out, both of you. I don’t want you two fucking on my bed.”

You and Chris burst into laughter. Chris scooped you up playfully and ran off to his bedroom, shutting the door behind you two.

Once you were in his room, he slowly placed you on the ground, then pulled you onto his lap as he sat at the edge of the bed.

“So... I think I should ask you properly,” he said, looking up at you.

Chris leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. “Now that you know how I feel about you, what do you say we give this a shot? Will you go out with me?”

You nodded, heart pounding in your chest. “I’d like that, Chris.” and he flashed you a smile.

“We really should be thanking George,” he said.

“Yeah, normally I hate him meddling, but this time I don’t mind. But please don't tell him that, or I'll never here the end of it,” you said as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Chris grinned. Forget about it then, I just want to kiss you again.”

You laughed, and with that, you closed the distance again, letting yourself melt into his touch. The feeling of his soft lips sent a shiver down your spine.

This moment felt perfect, like you fit together in a way that was always meant to be. His arms wrapped around you securely, pulling you closer, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart against yours. You hated to admit it, but George playing cupid had turned out to be the best thing that could have happened to you and Chris.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Bonus Fun Facts (cannon to this AU):

- George did find your drunk closeness to Chris disgusting, but he didn't really care if you snogged his friend or not. He pulled you off of Chris more out of fear of what you would do to him if he let you make any drunken mistakes while he was around. - During your conversation after movie night, George realized that Chris had a crush on you. - He and Chris disappeared off onto the balcony and he managed to get Chris to fess up that he was in fact into you. - George said he'd gladly meddle. Chris told him not to meddle. George meddled. - He knew you two hopeless idiots would not give each other a chance without a gentle push in the right direction. - George did in fact tell Chris not to go on the date, bringing up his crush on you. - Chris said that he was sure that there was no way you liked him and that you had not shown any interest in him. He did not want to make you uncomfortable by making a move on you so he decided to try and forget about his crush. - Could George just have told you that Chris liked you...yes? But did he instead choose to play cupid for his own amusement, of course he did. - Plus you hadn't explicitly told him that you liked Chris and he didn't want to dump that news on you. But then he realized that you were too thick when it came to your own feelings..so he did just dump it on you. - George realized he had to kick his matchmaking skills up to a 100 (and yes his best idea was locking you to in a room). - Of course he eavesdropped, and the next morning he did in fact not let you hear the end of it.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A/N: Thanks for reading guys! I'm trying to get through all my pending requests now that I'm back. Also tell me if you liked the bonus facts in the end. I realized that there were things I wanted to include that I didn't want to put into the main fic, so I just threw them in at the end. I personally like it, so I think I'm going to start throwing them into my fics from now on.

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

[authortelevision]

arthur frederick and the new producer: chapter 1 ₊˚⊹♡

words: 3,192 ✦ .ᐟ

♯┆arthurtv slow burn, bach and arthur podcast

after lara leaves bach and arthur’s podcast, you become her replacement. after discovering that arthur hates change, it takes a lot for him to warm up to you and become friends. it also takes a lot for him to admit how he truly feels about you.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Chapter One ₊˚⊹♡

The building doesn’t exactly scream “successful podcast studio.” It surprisingly has a weathered brick exterior and rusted door number that makes you double-check the address on your phone. But this is it, according to the email, Bach & Arthur Podcast – Recording Studio 2.

You try the handle. Locked. After fishing through your bag, you find the key they sent you and slide it into the lock. It groans in protest, but after a sharp twist, the door swings open, revealing a narrow staircase that smells faintly of food.

The email didn’t mention a receptionist or anyone to meet you. It had, however, been clear about the time, 11 am. You’re determined not to be late on your first day.

At the top of the stairs, two doors face you. One has a taped-up sign reading Bach & Arthur Podcast in Comic Sans. You can’t help but smile to yourself. Professional. You knock, just in case, but the heavy door muffles any response.

Pushing it open, you step into a much larger, cluttered room. The recording setup is decent, microphones on boom arms, a grey sofa, with a blue curtain behind it. A black table, in front of the recording situation, is covered in half-eaten food, crumpled notes, and what looks like many cups of tea or coffee or whatever they have been drinking to get them ready.

“Hello?” you call, stepping carefully around an errant cable.

From behind a makeshift partition comes the sound of muffled voices, followed by a thud and a sharp “Ow!”

A moment later, two figures emerge. The first is tall, muscular, and bright-eyed, with a dark mullet that looks like it’s been perfectly combed through. He grins at you immediately, his energy warm and infectious.

“Hey! You must be the new producer!”

“That’s me,” you say, smiling as he approaches.

“I’m Isaac,” he says, offering a hand. “Welcome to our team.”

Behind him, the second figure appears, shorter and thinner but very toned, with brown hair and thick eyebrows. He hangs back for a moment, studying you intensely enough that makes you resist the urge to straighten your posture.

“You’re Lara’s replacement?” he questions, his tone polite but with a slight hesitation.

You state your name, stepping forward and shaking his hand when he finally extends it. His grip is firm, and his voice, when he speaks again, is softer.

“I’m Arthur. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” you say. He nods but glances at Isaac almost immediately, murmuring something too low for you to catch. Isaac smirks but doesn’t reply, his gaze flicking back to you.

“We’ll miss Lara, obviously,” Arthur says after moment, meeting your eyes again. His tone is more formal this time, like he’s trying to smooth over something. “She was here from the beginning. But I’m sure you’ll be great.”

“Thanks,” you say, offering a small smile. You’re not sure what you’ve done to earn the slight edge in his voice, but you’re not going to let it rattle you.

Isaac claps his hands together, breaking the tension. “So, how are you with tech stuff? Mic levels, soundboards… all that fun stuff?”

“I can handle it,” you say, glancing at the recording setup. “I’ve been working on podcasts for a while now.”

Isaac grins. “Good answer. See, Arthur? We’re in capable hands.”

Arthur gives a tight smile, then leans toward Isaac and whispers something you can’t hear. This time, Isaac’s grin widens, and he shoots you a quick glance before whispering back.

You try not to read too much into it. People are allowed to have their doubts, it’s not your job to win everyone over on day one.

“Well,” Arthur says after a moment, more to Isaac than to you, “we’ve got a recording in twenty minutes.”

“You’re on it, right?” Isaac says, nudging you playfully. “Check the mics, make sure we’re not awkwardly out of frame, all that stuff?”

“Yes yes, of course,” you say, moving toward the desk.

Arthur watches you quietly as you adjust the boom arms and check the camera height and recording software. You can feel his gaze even when you’re not looking directly at him, and when he leans in to whisper something else to Isaac, you resist the urge to ask if they want you to leave the room.

But as you work, you catch something in Arthur’s expression that isn’t unkind, more cautious, like he isn’t quite sure how to fit you into their established rhythm. It isn’t hostility, just hesitation.

Isaac, on the other hand, seems determined to make you feel at home. “So, what’s the best podcast you’ve worked on?” he asks as you fiddle with the gain knobs.

“Probably Passing Notes,” you say, glancing up. “It’s all anonymous confessions. It’s like set in a classroom kinda thing, so you’d like pass notes secretly. I spent way too many late nights editing out overshares.”

Isaac laughs, the sound loud and easy. “That’s such a cool idea!”

Arthur offers a small, polite smile but doesn’t say much. As the recording time approaches, he leans over to you, his tone soft but unfortunately still professional.

“Let me know if you need anything,” he says. “We have a way of… winging things sometimes, but I’m usually good about staying on schedule.”

“Got it,” you say, meeting his deep brown eyes.

Arthur nods once, then moves to the filming sofa, his movements a bit rigid but calm.

As the recording starts, you settle in behind the controls, noting the interest in science between the two of them. Arthur’s laughter is quieter than Isaac’s, but genuine when it comes. And though he glances at you occasionally, it isn’t the skeptical look you feared.

It’s more like… curiosity. A guarded one, but curiosity still.

This isn’t going to be easy. But you’ve made it through worse.

After the recording wraps, the studio settles into a quieter hum. Arthur and Isaac stand from the sofa, their usual post-show energy fading into something less energetic. You busy yourself with jotting down notes from the session, cataloging timestamps for edits, and mentally prioritising what needs to be done before uploading the final cut.

Arthur is already rolling up a spare XLR cable when he looks over at you. “I think that went well,” he says. “Thanks for keeping us on track.”

“No problem,” you say, glancing up from the soundboard.

He nods and places the coiled cable neatly on the desk. “I’ve got an edit I have to send off tonight,” he says to Isaac, his voice softer now, almost apologetic. “I’ll catch you later.”

“Sure thing,” He replies, giving him a thumbs-up as Arthur grabs his coat from the back of a chair.

Arthur’s gaze flickers to you one last time. “See you next time,” he says, his words careful.

“You too,” you reply, watching as he disappears through the door.

The room feels lighter without him, though not necessarily in a bad way. Arthur carries a weight that seems to press on the space around him, a quiet intensity that isn’t unpleasant, just… noticeable.

Isaac turns to you as you shut down the software and begin powering down the equipment. He leans casually against the desk, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie.

“Hey,” he says after a moment, his tone quieter than it had been all morning. “I just wanted to say, uh, don’t take Arthur too seriously.”

You pause, glancing at him. “What do you mean?”

Isaac shifts his weight, his eyebrows slightly furrowed with a genuine look of concern. “I mean, he’s not trying to be rude or anything. He just… he’s kind of like that. Especially with new people. He’s not big on change, you know?”

You nod, turning back to unplug one of the microphones. “I got that impression.”

“It’s not personal,” Isaac says quickly. “I promise. He really liked Lara, and he’s probably just… figuring out how to adjust to not having her here.”

You hesitate, then smile faintly. “That makes sense. I wasn’t expecting him to roll out a red carpet or anything.”

Isaac laughs softly, the sound warm and reassuring. “Yeah, but I know how he can come off sometimes. He’s actually a good guy, I swear. It just takes him a minute to warm up to people.”

“Well,” you say, straightening up and meeting Isaac’s eyes, “I’m not in any rush. I’m just here to do my job and make the podcast sound good. If he comes around, great. If not, I’ll survive.”

Isaac grins. “That’s it man. Honestly, I think he’ll get there. He’s just— what’s the word? Particular. And maybe a little protective of the pod.”

“Protective, huh?” you say, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” Isaac scratches the back of his head, looking sheepish. “This whole podcast thing was kind of his baby at first. I just showed up for the jokes. But Arthur? He’s all about the details. He’s, like, scary good at making things better, except when it comes to people.”

You laugh despite yourself. “Good to know.”

Isaac smiles, then gives the desk a light tap. “Well, I’m glad you’re here, seriously. It’s nice to have someone new around. Keeps things interesting.”

“Thanks,” you say, your voice softening. “That means a lot.”

“No problem.” Isaac pushes off the desk and stretches. “Anyway, I’ll let you finish up. First day down, how’re you feeling?”

You look around the now-empty studio, cables half-coiled, the faint smell of their breakfast still lingering in the air. “Good,” you say finally. “I think it’ll be a good fit.”

“Good answer,” Isaac says with a grin. “See you next time.”

“See you,” you say, watching as he slips out the door.

The quiet returns as you finish shutting everything down, your mind replaying the day. Arthur might have been a bit off, even a little distant, but Isaac’s reassurance reminds you it’s all okay.

This isn’t going to be easy. But, somehow, you feel a little more confident that it will work out.

The chill of the November air nips at your cheeks as you walk home, hands shoved deep into your coat pockets. The sun is already dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in muted shades of orange and gray. Your breath comes in small, visible puffs as you navigate the uneven pavement, your thoughts circling like restless birds.

Arthur doesn’t hate you. You’re almost sure of that. He’s been polite enough, friendly, even, in that formal way people are when they’re trying not to be unkind. But there’s something in the way he watches you, the quiet whispers to Isaac, the slight hesitations.

He’s not sold on you.

And that’s not a crime, of course. People don’t have to like you. You know that. You know that. But the thought still worms its way under your skin.

What if he doesn’t think you’re good enough? What if he thinks you’re messing up an important rhythm they’ve spent months building? You’ve stepped into something that’s already been established, something Arthur clearly cares about deeply, and now you’re supposed to make it better, or at least keep it from falling apart.

You adjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder, kicking at a stray pebble on the pavement. You did your best today, and Isaac was kind, even reassuring. Still, the weight of Arthur’s cold interaction presses on you, and you can’t shake the gnawing feeling that you’re already letting someone down.

It’s not a long walk to your flat, but the cold makes it feel endless. By the time you reach the old brick building, your fingers are numb and your shoulders tense. You fumble with the keys, finally managing to push the door open and climb the creaky stairs to the second floor.

The familiar smell of tomato soup and bread greets you as you step inside. Your flatmate, Emma, is perched on the arm of the sofa, scrolling on her phone with a steaming mug in hand. She glances up as you enter, her light curls bouncing.

“You’re home,” she says lightly. “How was day one?”

You kick off your boots and shrug out of your coat, the warmth of the apartment already seeping into your frozen limbs. “It was… good,” you say, though the words come out slower than you intend.

Emma raises an eyebrow. “Good doesn’t sound convincing.”

You sigh, dropping your bag onto the floor and collapsing onto the sofa next to her. “I mean, I like the job. The studio’s fine, the setup’s fine, Isaac is nice. But…”

“But,” she prompts, her eyes narrowing.

“But I think Arthur doesn’t like me,” you admit, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“Arthur?”

“Co-host. The one people say is like lowkey autistic.” You rest your chin on your knees. “He wasn’t mean or anything. He was polite. But he wasn’t exactly warm, either. And I feel like… I don’t know, like I’m already not meeting whatever expectations he has.”

Emma tilts her head, looking at you. “So, you’re worried you’re not living up to the standards of a guy you just met, who might not even have an issue with you in the first place?”

You groan. “When you say it like that, it sounds ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” she says, setting her mug down. “You just care too much what people think. You’re, like, constitutionally incapable of being okay with someone not liking you.”

You shoot her a look. “That’s not true.”

“Name one person who doesn’t like you,” she challenges.

You open your mouth, then close it.

“Exactly.”

You bury your face in your hands. “I just don’t want to mess this up. It’s a good gig, and I don’t want to make things weird between them, or worse, feel like I’m ruining something Arthur obviously cares about.”

Emma leans back, crossing her legs. “Okay, real talk? You’re overthinking. It’s your first day. If you went in there, did your job, and didn’t, I don’t know, accidentally set the studio on fire, then you’re doing fine. Arthur will come around. Or he won’t. Either way, you’re not responsible for his feelings.”

“I know,” you mumble, though the knot in your stomach doesn’t quite loosen.

“You’re good at what you do,” she says, her voice firm. “And if they hired you, they obviously thought you’d be a good fit. Just give it some time.”

You look at her, her confidence in you unwavering, and manage a small smile. “Thanks, Emma.”

“Anytime,” she says, picking up her mug again. “Now, you want soup? You look like you just walked through a blizzard.”

“It felt like it,” you admit.

She grins. “Then sit tight. I’ll grab you a bowl.”

As Emma disappears into the kitchen, you let your head fall back against the sofa and close your eyes. She’s right, you’re overthinking. Probably.

Still, the memory of Arthur’s quiet glances lingers, and you can’t shake the feeling that winning him over might take more effort than you’d anticipated.

The room is quiet except for the faint hum of the radiator. You lie on your side, staring at your phone on the nightstand, its screen glowing faintly in the darkness. Sleep isn’t happening, not with your brain circling the same thought over and over: Did I mess up today?

Arthur’s neutral expression haunts you. Polite, sure, but distant. Detached. The whispering to Isaac. What were they saying? Are you just reading too much into it?

Frustrated, you grab your phone. Your thumb hovers over the screen. You haven’t texted Isaac before. Your correspondence has been strictly email so far, but he included his number ‘in case of emergencies.’ This isn’t an emergency, not technically, but maybe a quick message would help put your mind at ease.

You hesitate. What if you sound unprofessional? What if you’re overstepping? You chew your lip, then shake your head. Better to clarify now than let it eat away at you.

Taking a deep breath, you open the messaging app and type:

You: Hi, Isaac, it’s your new producer for the podcast. I just wanted to make sure this is the right number?

You hit send before you can overthink it. The message sends, and you stare at the screen, your heart beating a little faster than usual.

The reply comes quickly, too quickly for someone who should probably be asleep:

Isaac: Hey! Yep, this is me. What’s up?

You exhale a small breath of relief. One hurdle down. Now for the awkward part.

You: Thanks for confirming. I hope this isn’t weird to text, but I wanted to ask if there’s anything I can do to help make things feel less awkward with Arthur?

You stare at the screen after pressing send, your stomach twisting. Should you have phrased that differently? Should you have even asked? But before you can spiral too far, Isaac replies.

Isaac: Oh man, you’ve been thinking about that, huh?

You: Yeah a little, I guess. I just feel like there’s some tension, and I don’t want to mess up the dynamic you guys already have.

There’s a brief pause before Isaac’s next message comes through.

Isaac: Okay, first off, you’re not messing anything up. I promise. Arthur’s just Arthur.

You: That’s what you said earlier.

Isaac: Because it’s true. He’s like that with literally everyone at first. Even me.

You blink at your phone.

You: Really?

Isaac: Yeah. When we first started the podcast, it took him, like, three months to stop calling me Isaac during recordings. Said Bach ‘felt too informal’.

You laugh softly, the mental image of Arthur trying to keep things strictly professional easing some of your tension.

You: That’s actually hilarious.

Isaac: Right? It took forever, but he loosened up eventually. He always does.

You hesitate before typing your next question.

You: So, do you think there’s anything I can do to make it easier? Or should I just wait it out?

Isaac’s reply takes a little longer this time, but when it comes through, it’s warm and reassuring.

Isaac: Honestly, just keep being you. Do the job, don’t take his quietness personally, and give him time to adjust. If you try too hard, he’ll probably notice, and that’ll just make things weirder.

You: That’s fair.

Isaac: And hey, if he ever does cross a line, which I doubt, just let me know. I’ll handle it.

You smile at that, grateful for Isaac’s kindness and his willingness to smooth things over.

You: Thanks, Isaac. I really appreciate it.

Isaac: No problem. And don’t stress too much, okay? You’re already doing great. I can tell.

The reassurance settles something in your chest, and for the first time that night, you feel like maybe everything will be okay.

You: I’ll try. Thanks again. Goodnight!

Isaac: Night!

You set your phone down and roll onto your back, staring at the ceiling. The knot in your stomach is still there, but smaller now, less overwhelming. Isaac is right, you just need to focus on doing your job and let the rest work itself out.

With a sigh, you pull the blanket tighter around you and close your eyes, determined to get at least a little sleep before tomorrow.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Chapter Two

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a/n: i hope you guys like the idea of a slow burn !! i’m really excited to continue this story !! they will come out in between my other fics !! LOVE U GUYS <33 and let me know if you want to be tagged in updates !!

[clarkeyshill]

three peaks challenge

arthur hill x fem reader

summary: you’re a production member for chris and stay back with arthur during the three peaks challenge.

navigation | main masterlist | masterlist

Being a part of Chris' production was typically really fun for you, I mean you got to spend hours at a time with your friends just laughing and making jokes the entire day. It was good, until you’re forced to hike the three tallest mountains in the UK within 24 hours.

You stood with the boys checking the settings on the camera as everyone took a drink and food break. You shifted your weight onto your left leg stumbling back slightly into Arthur Hill, “Shit, sorry.” You muttered, as his hand caught your waist from his seated position.

“Careful.” He laughed, making your cheeks burn at the feeling of his hand on the bare skin of your hip. He shifted over on the rock tapping the space next him which you accepted gratefully.

You placed the camera on your lap as you tilted your head back letting out a exhausted huff. You reached into your backpack pulling out your water bottle gulping it down quickly not noticing Arthur’s fixed gaze on you.

Chris’ laugh echoed through the mountain making your head turn to him noticing he was already looking back at you, “what?”

He shook his head, “nothing, nothing.”

You rolled your eyes slumping your shoulders, “who let me agree to do this?” You groaned, “I hate that short man.”

Arthur laughed at your angered tone, “don’t we both.”

You laid your head on your hand looking up at Arthur with an amused smile, “At least we can be haters together.”

“Ain’t that true.”

George patted Arthur’s back, “Stop flirting you two, we have a mountain to hike.” He teased making Arthur turn redder than he already was and you pressed record on the camera pointing it towards the boys as they started their ascent.

“Oh no,” you gasped, looking down at the camera in your hands that now had lines across the screen, “Chris?” You called out for your longtime friend and boss.

He whipped his head around looking at your concerned face, “What’s wrong?” He asked, almost panicked as he made his way down to you and Arthur stopped slightly ahead of you both watching the scene.

“The camera’s not working.” You told him, showing him the screen, “I don’t know what happened, it was literally fine a minute ago.”

Chris shook his head noticing the way your voice shook as you tried to explain it, “Hey, hey its okay. It’s probably just overworked, its one of the older cameras anyways.”

You nodded fighting back your tears that were threatening to fall, “I’m sorry.” You whispered.

“Don’t apologise.” He smiled, wrapping his arms around your shoulders pulling you into a comforting hug, “lets finish this mountain yeah?”

You nodded turning off the camera completely taking in a deep breath before continuing on up the peak.

Once you reached Arthur, who has waited for you, he offered you a smile which you returned, “Everything okay?”

“The cameras fucked.” You told him and he hummed, “so now I’m just being paid to climb three mountains.”

“At least your getting paid to do this shit.”

You let out a laugh making Arthur’s eyes soften as he looked down at you. His eyes flicker over your appearance and the way you were practically glowing with the sun behind you.

In the distance, George and Chris were not so subtly watching the pair of you as you interacted. Noting the brushes of hands and the lingering eye contact, or the longing stares when the other wasn’t looking.

Finally, you had reached the top of the first peak. You stood at the edge of the cliff, admiring the fogged view that was quite underwhelming but you felt calm.

“It’s so peaceful up here.” You said, turning back to the boys, who all hummed in agreement as they took in the moment.

You glanced over at Arthur Hill, who was looking down at his phone with a soft smile dancing over his lips and you frowned slightly.

“Let’s get going guys!” You called out, ready to make the descent back to the van.

Chris furrowed his eyebrows watching as you quickly scattered away. He glanced over at George and ArthurTV, who both shrugged, before looking at Arthur Hill, who was just watching the girl walk off.

“Let’s go before she gets herself killed, yeah?” Harry stated and the boys nodded, following after you.

“Everything okay?” Chris asked as you both hung back from the group, who stupidly followed Harry who lead them away from the path.

You nodded wrapping your arms around yourself plastering on a smile, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

You and Chris had known each other for years due to being close with his sister when you were growing up which lead to you becoming like a second sister to him. This tended to mean that he knew you better than most other people and could pick all of your tell tale signs instantly.

“I don’t even know.” You shook your head, “it’s so unbelievably stupid.”

“Nothing is stupid.” He reassured you helping you down an uneasy path.

“I think I like Arthur,” you admitted, and Chris bit back his knowing smile, “And it’s stupid because I think he only sees me as a friend, and that’s fine but I feel dumb.”

Chris placed his hand on your shoulder rubbing it gently, “I can 100% tell you right now, you aren’t dumb. And I think you’ll be surprised at what Arthur would say if you told him.”

“Yeah?”

Chris nodded, “Yeah.”

Everyone clambered into the two minibuses, you climbed into the second one taking the window seat at the back. Once you had gotten comfy, Arthur Hill climbed in next to you giving you a smile making your breath catch in your throat.

“You okay?” He muttered, offering you the water that he was holding which you accepted gratefully as he situated himself in the seat next to you.

You nodded slightly handing the bottle back to him, “Just a little tired thats all.”

In response to that, Arthur slouched down in his seat shrugging his shoulder for you to lean on which you blushed at, internally thanking that it was dark outside.

You laid your head on his shoulder and he laid his head onto of yours. Your eyes slowly started to become heavy before you drifted off into uninterrupted sleep.

You stood with a unimpressed expression on your face with a hoodie draped over your form, practically engulfing your frame.

Arthur stood beside you with the same expression, “This man is about to lock in.” Chris said to the camera as he pointed at Arthur Hill.

“Better come back since,” He tried to retort before giving up with a shake of his head, “Fuck.” He grumbled making George and Chris chuckle softly.

“Oh, hasn’t started well.”

You moved next to Arthur leaning your head on his arm as you all waited for everything to be set up. You could barely keep your eyes open at this point living off of a minimum of 5 hours of sleep.

“I’m so tired.” You grumbled, looking over at Chris with a glare making him put his arms up in surrender, “this is your fault, hobbit boy.”

George cackled at your words clapping his hands as he did so.

“Shit.” Arthur muttered, from beside you shaking his leg slightly making you look up at him in concern.

You’re eyebrows knitted together as you placed your hand on his bicep, “What’s wrong?” You asked, “Do you wanna take a rest?”

Arthur huffed nodding limping over to the grass and you followed after him calling for Chris as you did so. You sat on the rock next to Arthur, who was putting all his stuff on the ground next to you.

“Do you wanna update the viewers on whats going on?” Chris asked making his way to the pair.

Arthur stood up straight, “it’s been a really embarrassing day for me. I thought my injury would be fine, it seems have cramped up a substantial amount.” He explained, looking over at Chris, who had a slight amused smirk on his face.

“I’m gonna pretend like I’m in a lord of the rings fairy tale and lie here, maybe die.” Arthur joked making you giggle and the camera panned down at you and so did Chris attention.

“And whats your reason for not doing this one?”

You tapped your chin in feigned wonder, “I don’t wanna spend more time with you.”

Arthur chuckled sitting on the ground in front of you and Chris let out a laugh placing his hand on his chest pretending to be hurt by your words.

“Well, have fun you two but not to much fun yeah.”

Arthur laid on the grass scrolling through his phone as you sat next to him with your back against the rock behind you and your feet draped over Arthurs lap.

Your head was against the rock with Arthur’s hoodie being used as a pillow as you watched the clouds float by, “that cloud looks like an elephant.” You said, bringing Arthur’s attention from his phone up to the sky.

A hum left his lips as he tilted his head slightly, “oh yeah.” He agreed dropping his phone to his chest and his hands along with it.

You glanced over at him, your eyes flickering across his face, “Arthur?”

“Yeah?” He replied, propping himself up on his elbows to face you.

You opened your mouth to say something but shook your head, “Nevermind, it’s not that important actually.”

The singer frowned sitting up fully placing his hands on your knees to pull you closer to him taking you by surprise, “Tell me.”

“It’s silly,” you whispered, refusing to tear your gaze from the ground as you picked at the grass around you.

Arthur lifted your chin pinching it softly between his thumb and pointer finger, “what’s wrong?”

“Would you ever maybe wanna go on a date sometime?” You blurted out trying to hide your flustered face as you buried it in your hands.

A bright smile broke out across Arthurs face at the question, “Shit, I wanted to ask you first.” He laughed, moving your hands from your face, “I’d happily go on a date with you.

yourusername

liked by arthurnfhill, chrismd10 and 35,976 others

yourusername got forced to hike a sodding mountain

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userone THAT PHOTO OF YOU AND ARTHUR !!!

*liked by yourusername*

usertwo arthury/n nation rise 🫡

arthurnfhill we actually hiked all 3 mountains btw, chris is just intimidated by us

➝ yourusername ain’t that the truth

arthurtv not that photo oh my god 😂

userthree we need more y/n content !!

➝ userone please i agree

chrismd10 i can still hear you whiny voice complaining

➝ yourusername obsessed much 🙄

[whereforarthur]

Masterlist~

All of my work compiled in one place. Please like and reblog if you enjoy them, feedback is greatly appreciated. Requests are open!

(Updated 11/18/2024) 

(X) = coming soon

ItalianBach~

Fluff: 

You’re The Only Man I Want to Kiss

- Isaac and his girlfriend y/n react to Women Rank Men by Kissing

Smut:

Ménage à trois (Threesome w/ ArthurTv)

- Who knew fan fictions could cause so much pleasure?

Ménage à trois (Part 2)

- Having had a threesome the night before leads to an interesting and revealing podcast episode, leading their friends to question what truly happened?

ArthurTV~

Angst:

Unrequited Love Hurts Like A Bitch

- Being in love with your best friend sucks, especially when he doesn't feel the same way

Unrequited Love Hurts Like A Bitch (Part 2)

- Soulmates are two best friends who fell in love

Fluff: 

Being Stuck in an Elevator Never Looked so Good?

- Getting trapped in an elevator with your favorite YouTuber, was not what you had planned for today

Love At First Podcast

- Falling in love with you was easy

Smut:

"Women weaken legs"

- After your boyfriend Arthur was in boxing training camp and was forced to go 6-8 weeks without distractions and sex, he goes feral for his girlfriend when he gets out

Ménage à trois (Threesome w/ ItalianBach)

- Who knew fan fictions could cause so much pleasure?

Ménage à trois (Part 2)

- Having had a threesome the night before leads to an interesting and revealing podcast episode, leading their friends to question what truly happened?

The Two Arthur’s (with Arthur Hill)

- Virgin!Reader goes to her friends for comfort not expecting them to comfort her in such a way

George Clarkey~

Fluff: 

Musicians want to be the loud voice for so many quiet hearts - Reader is a famous singer and George follows her on tour and fans speculate they’re dating.

Wedding Day Bliss~ - George Clarke marries the love of his life

Dating Headcanons for George Clarke

I'll wear your name on my heart til I die

- The turmoils and happiness that comes with giving birth

Smut:

Tummy Obsessed Much? - George's favorite body part on his girlfriend is her stomach

Wedding Night Bliss~

- A fluffy smut of the events that transpired after your and George's wedding night.

It’s Good to Be Home

- could you do a clarkey version of homecoming?

A Night In

- A perfect night in with your boyfriend is very pleasurable

It's Been Way Too Long

- “I think I'd miss you even if we never met.”

Love and Hate Are Blurred Lines

- “How would it be.. if all my hate disappeared like my youth, if after all this time his very hatred of me turned out to be something gentle, some kind of love.”

Caught Red Handed

- Who knew taking a risk could lead to this much pleasure?

So Much Restraint

ChrisMD~

Angst:

We'll Never Last

- It hurts to be something, it's worse to be nothing with you

Fluff: 

Fate is in The Stars (PlusSize!Reader)

- A chance encounter at a concert leads to more than you expected

Drunk and Touchy

- Chris fluff where he's a bit tipsy and can't keep his hands off his girlfriend

I Didn't Know Punk Girls Blushed

- Golden retriever boy falls for punk grumpy girl

What If We Were More Than Friends?

- Falling in love as best friends was unexpected

Smut:

Arthur Hill~

Angst:

Brother's Flatmate

- George’s sister and Arthur can’t stand each other, right?!?

Fluff: 

Am I a Burden to You?

- Arthur’s been working a lot and y/n misses him, she brings this up and he gets angry and calls her ‘clingy’ before realising he messed up and makes it up to her (angst —> soft)

Piano Nights

- Y/N and Arthur meet at a musician's party, where she spots him and confidently pursues him. They sleep together, and they end up dating, leaving Arthur in awe and a massive simp.

Dating Headcanons for Arthur Hill

Smut:

“Sex is an Emotion in Motion”

- Arthur takes care of you after a rough night in the sheets

It’s painful, loving someone from afar.

- Y/N is on holiday with all of the boys and there’s tension between Arthur hill and her, and everyone can see it and they’re just waiting for something to happen. (Soft Smut)

Homecoming

- When Arthur returns from vacation, he misses his girlfriend greatly causing things to get freaky

The Two Arthur’s (with ArthurTv)

- Virgin!Reader goes to her friends for comfort not expecting them to comfort her in such a way

A Delightful Surprise

All~

Dating Headcanons

George Clarke

Arthur Hill

ArthurTV

ChrisMD (X)

ItalianBach (X)

Featuring more than 2 of the boys~

Poker Night Never Felt So Right

ArthurTv x Reader x George Clarke x Chrismd

A game of strip poker with your friends, goes a little further than anyone expected...

Said She Wanted Five Guys She Ain’t Talking about Burgers

Reader x George, Arthur Hill, Chris, Isaac and ArthurTv

Y/n shares her sexual intentions with five YouTubers. She invites them to join her fantasy, setting no limits on their actions. The group eagerly agrees, indulging in a passionate sexual encounter as they explore Y/n's desires one by one.

A/n: Let me know if anyone would like to be added to a taglist for all imagines or certain people!

[arthurhillmastermind]

George Clarke replied to your story.

2,172 words. Green circle. Red Circle. what’s the difference?

It all started a few weeks ago when George had posted a random Instagram Story asking fans to add him to their close friends lists so he could rank them for a YouTube video—“best, funniest, cringiest, whatever,” he’d promised with that ridiculous smile. Your group chat had of course collectively lost their minds.

“Oh my God, we have to do this,” someone had declared, already tagging him in a story.

You’d rolled your eyes at first. Sure, George was funny, creative, and admittedly attractive, but you weren’t about to feed his ego by crafting some elaborate story just for his amusement. Still, in the chaos of everyone else freaking out, you’d ended up adding him anyway. Not to make the cut for his video—you didn’t post anything remotely funny or interesting enough—but just to shut the groupchat up. And honestly, you forgot to remove him after.

Then came the thirst trap.

It wasn’t even planned. You’d been bored, playing around with some poses, when your friends dared you to post something from the many photos you’d sent them, a simple selfie where the light hits your face and hair in the perfect way, just to mess with people. It had been a joke, like everything else on your close friends, and you’d captioned it, “This one’s for just you ;)” to really sell the bit.

No one actually expected him to see it.

But George Clarke, the man with an unbelievably high screen time, saw everything. The notification came in mere minutes after you posted it. GeorgeClarkeey replied to your story

“Me?” one word. That was all it took.

“Girls” You typed very quickly

Cue the group chat imploding.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!” your friend types back know the message “Girls” meant something had happened.

“George replied to my story”

“HE WHAT?”

“He’s going to think it’s serious.”

“Can we talk about how he responded in record time???”

“He’s going to make this a thing. I feel it in my soul.”

The replies came in at record speed. Sure enough, George wasn’t done yet.

Another message popped up while you were still processing the first: “Wait. That was for me, right? Like… actually?”

You groaned, tossing your phone onto your bed. What the hell was going on? George Clarke had a talent for this shit, and now you were directly in the middle of it. Of course it wasn’t specifically for him. It was a joke, a dumb joke fueled by group chat dares and late-night boredom. But now George Clarke was in your DMs, actually engaging, and you had no idea how to navigate this.

You sat down on your bed , unlocking your phone to stare at his messages through your notifications like they might explode if you opened them. What the hell were you supposed to say to that?

“Me?”

“Wait. That was for me, right? Like… actually?”

It wasn’t for him. Not really. But at the same time, it wasn’t not for him, and there was no universe in which you could explain that without sounding ridiculous.

Your phone buzzed again.

“Take your time, I’ll just sit here wondering 😏.”

You groaned, throwing your head back. Why was he like this? Why couldn’t he just scroll past like a normal person? Better yet, why did you still have him on your close friends list in the first place?

The group chat, of course, was zero help.

“Just say it was for him. What’s the harm?”

“Tell him it’s a metaphor. Keep him guessing.”

“Confess your undying love and ask him to follow while you’re at it.”

You sighed, finally flopping onto your bed and opening the messages.

“What if it was?” you typed, hesitating for a moment before hitting send.

Immediately, your heart dropped into your stomach. What had you just done? Before you could spiral too deeply into regret over your reply, another notification popped up on your screen.

GeorgeClarkey started following you.

You froze. What the actual fuck was going on? Was this some elaborate joke for his video? Was he about to screenshot your profile and blast you to his friends and his followers as part of his next roast video?

Panic set in almost immediately. You scrambled to your profile, fingers flying as you opened your highlights. What did I even have on there? Your close friends was one thing, but your highlights were public.

The first highlight was fine. A sunset. Very normal. The second was a random dog you’d seen on a walk. Also fine. The third? Oh God, the third. A blurry photo of your face captioned, “Why am I like this?”

You cringed, hitting the delete button, but before you could delete anything else, another notification lit up your phone.

GeorgeClarkey replied to your story:

“Ok but… jokes aside be honest. Is this about me?”

Your group chat exploded before you could even blink.

“HE FOLLOWED YOU?!”

“Shut up. He did not.”

“Bestie, you’re famous now.”

“Oh my God he did! i checked his profile! Did he post anything? Has he said anything else?”

You ignored them, heart pounding as you stared at the notification. This couldn’t be real. George Clarke, internet golden boy who had every teenage girl in a chokehold, was actually engaging with you.

What the hell were you going to do?

You stared at George’s message, your mind racing: “Ok but…jokes aside be honest. Is this about me?”

Before you could fully process it, your fingers moved almost instinctively, opening the group chat. You switched to voice notes because typing just wasn’t fast enough to convey the absolute thoughts in your head.

“Guys,” you hissed into the mic, pacing your room. “What the actual fuck is going on? George Clarke just messaged me again. AGAIN. And he said—wait, no, let me read this. He said, ‘Ok but… jokes aside be honest. Is this about me?’”

You paused, pacing more furiously as all your friends started typing back.

“I don’t know what to say!” you continued in the next voice note, your voice slightly higher now. “Like, do I admit it? Do I deny it? Do I block him and change my name? HELP ME.”

The replies came in almost instantly:

“Post the screenshot right now.”

“Oh my God, you’re in a rom-com.”

“Say it was about him and see what happens. Do it for the plot.”

“Voice note us back with the drama or don’t bother replying at all.”

You rolled your eyes, even as you hit record again.

“Okay, fine. I’ll reply. But if this ends with me being clowned in one of his videos, you’re all accomplices.”

With one final deep breath, you typed out:

“Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. What’s it to you?”

Your thumb hovered for a second, but then you hit send, immediately regretting it as your phone buzzed with another notification.

“Oh, it’s something to me. 😉”

You groaned, sending yet another voice note to the group chat.

“I AM GOING TO SCREAM. He just said it’s ‘something to him.’ WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!?”

Your friends weren’t helping, their replies now a chaotic mix of screaming voice notes and unhinged texts.

“He’s into you, bestie.”

“We’re living for this. Keep us updated.”

“I’m adding popcorn to my grocery list.”

Whatever George was playing at, it was… kind of fun.

You stared at his message: “Oh, it’s something to me. 😉”

Your heart thudded as you typed out a response, fingers moving on autopilot: “How come?”

For a second, you debated deleting it. Was that too straightforward? Too bold? But before you could overthink it, the message was already sent.

The group chat was on fire.

“WHAT DID YOU SAY???”

“Tell me you asked him why. PLEASE.”

“I’m pacing my room like it’s my drama, what is happening???”

You sent a quick voice note: “I asked him how come. Like, if he’s going to be cryptic, I’m making him work for it. I can’t just let him drop a winky face and get away with it.”

Your phone buzzed before the group could reply. Another message from George.

“Because now I’m curious. Was it really for me?”

You blinked at your screen. Curious? Curious?! Why did he have to phrase it like that? Like this wasn’t a throwaway Instagram post but some grand mystery he needed to solve.

You hit record on another voice note.

“GUYS. He said he’s curious. What the hell does that mean?!” you whispered furiously. “I’m spiraling. Do I double down? Do I back out? Help.”

The replies were just as unhinged as before.

“Double down. Always double down.”

“Tell him it’s his fault for making you curious too.”

“Can we just talk about how into this he clearly is? Like, bestie, he’s invested.”

You shook your head, biting your lip as you typed your next message.

“Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. But now I’m curious—what if it was?”

Your thumb hovered for a moment before you hit send, already bracing for whatever chaos George Clarke was about to unleash next.

The notification popped up almost immediately:

GeorgeClarkey: “Well, if it wasn’t, how come I’m on your close friends and none of my friends are?”

Your jaw dropped. Oh, he was good. Too good. George Clarke wasn’t just playing along—he was winning.

You immediately switched to the group chat, hitting record on a voice note.

“Guys. He’s onto me. He said—and I quote—‘How come I’m on your close friends and none of my friends are?’” You paused, your voice rising in pitch. “WHAT DO I SAY TO THAT?”

The group chat blew up in record time.

“HE SAID WHAT?!”

“Oh my God, this man is flirting.”

“Deflect. Blame it on the algorithm. Lie if you have to.”

“No, no, you need to hit him back with something. Don’t let him win!”

You sent another voice note, pacing your room as you spoke.

“I don’t even know why he’s still on my close friends! It’s not like I planned this—he asked to be added for that stupid video, and I just forgot to take him off. But if I tell him that, he’s going to think I’m some kind of idiot who forgot George Clarke was on their list!”

One of your friends sent a voice note back, barely able to contain their laughter.

“Bestie, you are an idiot who forgot George Clarke was on their list. But now you’ve got him interested, so lean in. Own it. Say something mysterious.”

You sighed, staring at George’s message for a long moment before typing:

“Guess you’ll have to stick around to find out.”

Your heart was racing as you hit send, half-expecting him to call your bluff immediately. Instead, the little typing bubble appeared almost instantly.

“Don’t mind if I do. 😏”

You practically screamed, sending another voice note to the group chat.

“Guys. GUYS. He’s not just flirting. He’s doubling down. What do I do now?!”

The replies came back rapid-fire:

“Marry him.”

“This is officially fanfiction territory.”

“No, seriously, keep him on the hook. This is your moment.”

You didn’t George’s last message—“Don’t mind if I do. 😏”—because honestly, you needed a minute to think. Or maybe several. So instead of spiraling over how to respond, you stuck to your plan.

Ignoring the little red dot on his message thread, you switched to Instagram stories and posted something casual to your story: a cozy shot of your coffee on the table, framed by the warm tones of a London café from last weekend. The kind of post you always shared on quiet afternoons. You added the café’s location tag for good measure, captioning it simply: Need this.

The group chat was, of course, waiting.

“Update: just posted,” you said in a voice note, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s a café pic. Totally chill, very me. If he reacts to this, I’ll… I don’t know, scream.”

You barely had time to put your phone down before it buzzed with a new notification:

GeorgeClarkey replied to your story.

Your heart jumped as you opened it.

“Good taste. But why didn’t you invite me?”

You sat there, staring at the message like it was in a foreign language. George wasn’t just reacting—he was flirting. Again.

“GUYS,” you hissed into a new voice note, pacing your room. “He replied. And get this—he said, ‘Good taste. But why didn’t you invite me?’ Like, is this man serious?!”

The chat erupted in chaos.

“Shut up, he did NOT.”

“He’s basically asking for a date. I’m calling it.”

“You better reply, right now.”

But you weren’t ready to give in that easily. Typing back too quickly would make it seem like you were waiting for him (which you definitely weren’t). So instead, you left his message on read, letting him sit with it while you debated your next move.

Another voice note: “I’m ignoring him for now. Let’s see if he doubles down.”

And honestly, you weren’t sure what thrilled you more: the fact that George Clarke had replied, or the fact that he was now waiting on you.

———————————————————————-

a/n my first george fic! there will be a part two! the formatting hasn’t worked the way it should have but i’ll work on it!

would like to thank George Clarke for seeing my close friends which then let to @pretendyoucantseeme who gave me the idea and @authortelevision for supporting the delusions. love you both😂

if you wanna be tagged in part 2 please let me know!

[clarkeybabey]

Please can you write something about clarkey loving a cuddle and the boys come home and tease him 🙈🙈

❝ cuddle up to me ❞

# playlist; watch you sleep. - girl in red, cuddle up - the beach boys, LOVE - kendrick lamar ft. zecari

# word count; 1.2k

# note; I love writing fluff but I always feel so repetitive idk ?! 😝

George had finally convinced you to start going out for drinks with his friends again. The last time you joined them on a night out, you mistakenly read them Zayn Malik fanfiction you'd written well over ten years prior and posted to Wattpad, which they have yet to let you live down and you still have no recollection of.

After two hours of chatting with them about nothing and everything all at once, you couldn't help but recoil into him, your social battery was dangerously low. Despite how fresh your relationship still is, your boyfriend was quick to notice, excusing the two of you, saying something about Max wanting to film the pod early the next morning amidst goodbyes on your way out the door.

As you distance yourself from the bustling bar, he turns towards you with a knowing grin. His arm reaches out effortlessly and finds its way around your shoulders. His cool gaze meets yours as he softly asks, "You holding up okay, love?" You nod with a hum, your smile mirroring his, leaning into him as you reach up to lace your fingers together.

The two of you walk back to his flat in comfortable silence, London's side streets are quiet and almost peaceful. When you make your way into his building he unwraps himself from you slightly only to fish his keys from the pocket of his jeans though he keeps a protective grip on your waist as he unlocks the door.

Now that he's got it open, he steps aside patting your hip in a motion to get you inside ahead of him. He watches you walk stealing shameless glances at your figure as you struggle a bit with your shoes, he tears his eyes away as you straighten quickly distracting himself by hanging his coat on the rack and dropping his keys in the bowl next to the door.

Whilst he kicks off his shoes haphazardly you shed your jacket as well, holding it out to him with a smile, "Hang mine up too, please?"

"Yes ma'am," he nods, you thank him, heading off to the kitchen for some water. You step up onto your toes your shirt lifting with your arms snagging a glass, he comes up behind you, his cold hands meeting the now-exposed skin of your stomach making you jump, goosebumps rising on your skin.

"Y'scared me and your hands are freezing," you whine wiggling out of his grasp, filling your cup from the fridge, and side-eyeing him as he steps toward you again.

"But I just wanna cuddle, you can't deprive me like this," he throws his head back dramatically making you scoff. "We walked home practically glued together, darling."

George takes a deep breath and shakes his head frantically, continuing his fit, "'s just not enough," he sniffs wiping his eyes and fanning himself, making you roll yours. He follows close behind like a puppy as you cross through the dining room into the living room, pulling the throw blanket off the back of the couch, and reach out for him, "C'mon y'big baby."

And he does, basically jumping on top of you, and you fall back into the festive throw pillows. He tucks his head into the crook of your neck, his beard tickling you a bit.

Your fingers twirl the curls at the nape of his neck, "I missed you today," he mumbles against your skin, making the column of your throat vibrate with his words. "Missed you too, so much," you pause, thinking back to what had been said earlier, "You don't actually have to do podcast stuff tomorrow right?"

He can't help but chuckle at how nervous you sound, "Don't be silly, you know my Sundays are reserved for us," he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel your heartbeat jump in speed at his reassurance, but he doesn't acknowledge it.

More comfortable silence envelopes the two of you, as your breathing slows, unintentionally synchronized, he drifts off to the sound of soft breaths escaping your agape lips.

A drunk Chris and an even more drunk Arthur fumble into the apartment, completely oblivious to their sleeping friends, that is until Arthur attempts to make his way into the sitting room in search of George, his charger has miraculously disappeared from his bedroom once again.

As you come into his field of view, he's tapping through his phone, his fingers tingling and oddly heavy, in search of his camera.

You wake to a quick flash of light, followed by the sound of a picture being taken, making you groan a bit louder than intended. "Piss off," you don't bother opening your eyes, that is until you realize you can't exactly turn away from the flash because of the dead weight of the man on top of you.

He begins to stir at the sudden, jerk of movement beneath him, your shouting, the sound of a flurry more of photos being taken, and Arthur's drunken wheezing has Chris emerging from the kitchen, clapping a hand over his mouth, to suppress his obnoxious laughter. George turns in the direction of the noise, blinking the sleep from his eyes, "Hello, sleeping beauty," His friends' phones in hand and giggles make him sigh against your chest.

Chris nearly falls over, bumping into the wall as both of you raise a hand, flipping off them and the videos you're almost positive at least one of them is taking, "You two are so cute," Arthur coos, jutting out his bottom lip.

"Stuff like this won't happen to you if you lot are this annoying in the presence of a woman," you shoot back, making Chris clutch his chest, mouth open in shock, "you know, that's really offensive, one direction fanfiction won't help you out either," he crosses his arms, looking pleased with himself.

Your eyes widen, and you laugh dryly "You leave them out of this. Do I need to remind you how you looked before that perm?" George snorts and Arthur's phone is long since in his pocket, deciding he didn't need his ego bruised like his roommate. Chris raises his hands, laughing uncontrollably, his head dropping in defeat "No, please, no."

"Now goodnight, boys," your voice is jokingly stern, but when they don't move in the slightest you nod your head in the direction of their bedrooms, "Yes, Mother," Arthur sighs, a faux frown present on his face as he shoves Chris ahead of him. "She such a bully," You hear Chris mutter, their conversation fades as they make their way across the flat. The only sound was their doors clicking shut, followed by coveted silence.

You lay there still and quiet praying they don't come back out and when they don't you speak up: "Why don't we get in bed, too?" He nods, standing from where he had you trapped beneath him, taking your hand and helping you get up as well.

George grins broadly, his smile as bright as ever, and says, "You humbling my friends is so hot." You can't help but laugh and shake your head at his words. Without another thought, you grab his wrist firmly and start pulling him in the direction of his bed, eager to give in to the exhaustion the day had caused.

[wroetominter]

New Years Eve - George Clarke

Thank you to the lovely anon who requested this! I didn’t fully intend for this to be smutty, but it did take a slightly dirty turn. I made it a little more pg, though!

In which George and Y/n have been broken up for awhile, and the hands of fate, or a cheeky flatmate bring them back in each others arms.

Pairing: George X FemReader

Warnings: minor smut.

So the reader & George are broken up and the break up is still rather fresh but they've decided to continue being friends as it was mutual. The boys host a New Year's Eve party at their flat which the reader attends and somehow her & George end up getting back together maybe after some interference from their friends lol

I had never really been one for parties. Let alone a party full of drunk people where the biggest expectation is to go home with someone. Being a YouTuber, however brought on some interesting challenges with this. Content making, being the number one factor I had to face.

The choice was simple really, decline the invitation and miss out on being able to make stories, TikTok’s, and vlogs of the party, or go to the party, and probably have a great time, but at the risk of seeing someone hadn’t laid my eyes on in months.

Feeling rather risky, I had accepted the invitation to the boys New Years Eve party. The day had approached much faster than anticipated and I was now on my way through the all too familiar streets of London to a flat I had known like my own for over a year.

George and I had split amicably around two months ago, with neither of us really having the time to commit to a relationship. It was mutual, but it still hurt like a bitch to not only lose a boyfriend, but a best friend in one fell swoop.

I had secretly been hoping we could pick back up as friends, similar to how Chris and Shannon had done, but I unfortunately had been too terrified to even try and message him. No matter how badly I wanted to.

Making my way up the elevator, I purposely made sure to be fashionably late, hoping to slip in unnoticed and find myself a drink to gain some liquid confidence.

I knocked on the door, realizing it had been propped open so I could just let myself in.

“Darling you made it!” Becky shouted at me from across the room as I stepped into the crowd of people adorning the living room.

I hugged her, having some small talk before I made my way to the kitchen to pour myself a drink.

Stood there at the island was George with Chris, my breath hitched slightly at the sight of him. He had on a black knit sweater and corduroy trousers, with his newly long haircut sporting a few small curls that I found to be extremely flattering on him.

“Hey Y/n, how are you?” Chris asked pulling me in for a hug.

“I’m well thank you, how are you?” George took a sip of his drink, eyes never leaving mine over the rim of his glass.

“Yeah good thanks, glad you could make it. Pour yourself a drink and enjoy the night, I know I will!” He quickly rushed off to another group leaving George and I alone in the kitchen.

I looked to him, not knowing how to start a conversation with him.

“You look lovely” he started. I suddenly found myself tucking my arms around myself, feeling weirdly self conscious even though at one point George knew my body better than I did.

“Thank you, you do as well.. I like the…erm… new haircut” I stumbled over my words, and he smiled at me.

“Thank you, it’s not my usual but I figured I’d try it out.” We trailed off in a slightly awkward silence. I looked around nervously, deciding to finally get the drink I had came in here for. “See you around, I’m going to speak with Arthur,” George left the kitchen. I let out a sigh, cursing myself for being so damn awkward. I quickly backed a shot of vodka before I mixed up my drink, deciding it was probably the best night to get drunk if any.

The night progressed in a fun manner, random games and forfeits being played, shots taken, and drinks consumed by all.

The clock struck 11:50pm and I found myself getting nervous for midnight. I was not ready to be the only person in this large of a group not kissing someone. I knew it was inevitable, but it still didn’t feel like something I was ready for.

Pulled from my thoughts, Arthur Hill joined me in the living room looking out their window at the lovely view of London. “He hasn’t moved on, just so you know.” He sipped his drink.

“George?” I questioned, turning to face him.

He nodded. “I haven’t seen him so much as look at another girl. The photo I took of you two asleep on the train is still his phone background.” I stood there staring at him, a little dumbfounded.

“Why hasn’t he said anything to me about it?” I asked him. Figuring if anyone knew apart from George himself, it would be Arthur.

“He doesn’t want to bother you. He thinks you want to move on.” He said. We were then interrupted by none other than the man we were talking about.

“What’s going on over here?” From knowing George so well, I could tell he was now feeling the effects of the alcohol he had.

“Just checking on our dear Y/n over here. She looked a bit lonely, figured I’d offer her up a New Years kiss if she fancied.” My head shot around to meet Arthur’s.

In the time we were together, I found George to be a very loyal boyfriend, which obviously came with some jealous tendencies. These tended to arise when his mates would playfully flirt with me. Arthur knew that all too well, and it was evident on both his face, and George’s, that his plan had worked.

“I don’t know about that one Arthur, think I’d rather kiss myself in the mirror love.” I retorted, causing a small chuckle from the singer.

“Well, that’s me gone then, countdown is about to begin. Gotta go find someone who does want to kiss this pretty face,” he left, leaving George and I stood by the window alone. Everyone else had found themselves a partner. Nervous was the understatement of the year, thank god that one was almost over.

“Ten!” Butterflies grew in my stomach as I looked around the room.

“Nine!” I took a deep breath.

“Eight!” George brought himself closer to me, and I could feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“Seven!” Fuck. This was about to be the weirdest thirty seconds of my life.

“Six!” Is George feeling any of these nerves?

“Five!” - “remind me again why we broke up?” George asked.

“Four!” I stared at him.

“Three!” - “I don’t know anymore.” I whispered.

“Two!” - “let’s give this a go then?”

“One!” - “fuck it.”

George and I leaned in, lips meeting in the middle as everyone around us either kissed their partners or screamed “Happy New Year!”

I had forgotten completely how intoxicating it was to kiss George. His lips moved with mine in perfect rhythm, and his hands held me in a way that made me never want to leave his arms.

“Get it Georgie!” I heard screamed from the group of boys across the room, recognizing Bach’s voice as the instigator of that comment.

“Fucking twats always know how to ruin a good moment don’t they?” George commented, forehead still resting on mine. I laughed, breathing heavily as my hands rested on his chest.

“Talk in your room?” I asked him. He nodded, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the back hall where their bedrooms were.

I looked around the dimly lit room, finding comfort in the four walls. Nothing had changed in the few months since I had been here last.

I kicked off my shoes, and my jacket, sitting in his bed crossing my legs together and looking at him. “I missed you.” I blurted out of the blue.

“I missed you too. I don’t know why I couldn’t just make the time you needed. I didn’t know what I would be losing by giving up that easily.” We were sharing such a vulnerable moment together.

“I think in the moment, it was just easier to say let’s move on than try and make the time work. It was equal fault here, let’s be honest.” We agreed with each other.

“I want to make time for us again.” He whispered, reaching out to rest his hand on my knee. I placed my hand over his, smiling up at him.

“Me too.” I scooted in closer, wrapping my arms around his neck and placing my legs on either side of his, sitting down on his lap. I kissed him again, this time with more feeling.

His hands instinctively found their way to my hips, pulling me impossibly closer to him.

“This is a good start.” He smirked at me, beginning to tug my shirt off of my torso.

“I couldn’t agree more.” I said pulling at the bottom of his sweater. I always forget how fit he is until the clothes are off. His toned arms in full display in front of me. I had to admit, I was a sucker for toned arms.

He grabbed me by the legs, flipping me over and hovering above me, placing himself between my hips.

“Let me show you how much I’ve missed you.” He said, unbuttoning and pulling down my jeans, leaving me nearly fully exposed in front of him. Unlike earlier, I didn’t find myself nervous. I was confident. This was my George, and I knew he would take care of me.

He began to remove the remainder of his clothing, and I followed suit. This didn’t seem like the night either of us were keen on intense foreplay. This was the rekindling of our relationship.

He leaned down to kiss me again, and I felt goosebumps forming as his hands touched my skin. He was telling me with his body that he needed me, that he wanted me.

I gasped as he pressed himself towards my entrance, my body naturally arching up to meet him there, knowing exactly what I wanted.

He pushed into me gently and I felt my head falling back in pleasure. He let out soft moans as he continued the motions of his hips, rocking back and forth in a rhythm that we had once been so accustomed to.

I had never experienced such passion in sex before George. Before this moment specifically. He knew me and my body so well it was almost electric the way we moved together. He kissed me gently as his thrusts grew more erratic, signaling he was close.

His hand reached between us, his killed fingers finding my most sensitive area and working his magic, helping me find my way to my release nearing the same time as him.

“George.” I whispered into his neck, holding onto his back with my hands.

“Come on darling,” he said, lips attaching to the sensitive skin under my ear.

I felt my release wash over me, a white hot burning pleasure that coursed through my body.

George pulled out, his hand quickly giving himself the last few pumps to send him spilling over the edge.

We laid there together, sweaty, and out of breath. George stood up to grab a wet washcloth, running it over my stomach to clean me after the nights events.

“Shower?” He propositioned. I looked over at the clock, seeing it read 12:45. I didn’t realize how long we had been here.

“Might as well, are you okay if I spend the night?” I asked him.

He laughed, pulling me closer to him in a hug. “I would honestly be offended if you didn’t.” I laughed with him, cupping his jaw as I kissed him again.

[georgeclarkewifey]

Hey can I do a request about ChrisMD please?

With the prompt ¹¹⁵⁾ “you’re drunk, honey.”

why of course you can :)

ChrisMD x female!reader

pure drunk Chris fluff enjoy x

Chris was clingy when he was drunk. Like, insanely clingy. He’d always insist that he wasn’t, drunk or clingy for that matter, but when you’d point out the fact that he was currently cuddling you upside down on the sofa whilst being force fed sips of water.

For you, it was a quiet Saturday night, staying in to work on your Master’s thesis. My clever girl, Chris would always say, encircling you in his arms as he hugs you from behind, resting his chin on the top of your head, his eyes trying to make sense of the paragraphs and paragraphs of words that you had carefully crafted. You’d smile, glancing up at him, reminding him that you hadn’t graduated yet. He’d roll his eyes, kiss the top of your head, and murmur, of course you’re going to graduate you idiot.

Though, for Chris, it was another interesting night out with George and the two Arthur’s.

“Baby…” he coos, comically creeping into the apartment. You chuckle softly, pushing yourself off of the couch, your work long abandoned for the night, swapping it for a warm fuzzy blanket and your favourite autumnal movie.

“Evening darling.” You murmur, chuckling to yourself as Chris wraps his arms around you, pulling you tightly against his chest. You can’t help but smile at the rumble of contentment that erupted from him as he gently swung you from side to side. The gentle scratch of his beard tickled your temple as he lovingly nuzzled his head against yours. As much as that man acted like a golden retriever, damn did he act like a cat sometimes.

“You…me…the bedroom…” Chris mumbles, grabbing your hands gently to lead you across your flat. You giggle, shaking your head softly. “You’re drunk, honey.” You murmur, pressing a tender kiss to his nose.

“You missed-“ He whines, pouting softly as you allow him to lead you into the bedroom. “And you need to sleep.” You say quietly, helping pull his shirt off over his head. Disappearing into the bathroom to wash your face, Chris whines and materialises behind you, his hands slowly snaking from your waist to pull you tightly against his chest, his head resting on your shoulder.

“You okay baby?”

Chris nods sleepily, pressing gentle kisses along your jawline and cheekbone. “I love you.” He mumbles, his hands caressing lazy circles on your stomach.

“I love you too honey.” You reply, you hand going up to cup his jaw, letting your hand run over the stubble of his beard, your thumb gently brushing his cheekbone.

Chris eventually manages to pull you back into the bedroom, drunkenly grinning at you, his visor still tainted with the rose tinted drunk glasses. He stands at the foot of your bed, chuckling to himself as he watches you curl up in the warm sheets. “You comfy doll?”

You nod, letting the sheets pool around you as he climbs onto the bed, slowly crawling towards you. You grin, taking his head in your hands as you kiss him gently, allowing him to pull your body flush to his, the warmth of his chest seeping through your thin pyjamas.

“Love you so much…” He mumbles softly, groaning as your hands thread through his hair, playing and toying with the curls.

“Love you more.” You hum quietly, pressing a kiss to Chris’ forehead.

“My clever girl.” He murmurs, pulling you closer under the covers. His hands settled on your back, tracing patterns in the silk of your vest top. You smile softly, nuzzling into him as you both slip into sleep.

[w2soneshots]

Could I do a Chrismd request? Maybe where they meet either jogging one day or their indoor climbing club and they eventually get together.

Thanks :)

Coffee? -Chrismd

words: 0.8k+

warnings: none.

summary: you and Chris pass each other every week on your runs, one day he decides to finally ask you out.

notes: hello lovely💞 This is my first ChrisMD fic, wooo! I hope you enjoy and thank you for being patient with me, I’m trying desperately to find the motivation to write!!🏃‍♀️‍➡️✨

I woke up early this morning for my usual Saturday morning run in London. It was not particularly warm but thankfully there wasn't any rain or wind and once I get my body moving I always warm up anyway so I picked out an outfit accordingly.

I shivered slightly as I stepped out of the glass doors of my apartment building before plugging in my earphones and getting started. I always love starting my Saturday's this way since it helps to clear my head, plus I usually see the cute boy that lives in the apartment building two streets away from mine.

I know that because I've seen him leave multiple times in the last few months. I've been tempted to ask for his number but I always chicken out. Though every once and awhile I catch him looking my way when we pass by each other.

After a good fifteen minutes of running/jogging around London I see him coming towards me. My heart rate spikes. I put on a friendly smile and he returned it. I was slightly disappointed that he was still yet to say anything so I decided to take matters into my own hands, hopefully he doesn't have a girlfriend.

I stopped and turned around. He's already walking towards me. "Oh my god. Oh my god." I thought, mind racing. I quickly remove my earphones. "Hi, uhm... I'm Chris," he says. "y/n," I replied.

It was silent for a moment before he spoke up. "I was just wondering if you maybe wanted to get a coffee after your run, if you're free?" I nodded softly. "I'd like that. Meet you outside waterlow park in an hour?" "Yeah, great. See you then... y/n." He waved softly before turning around and jogging off. I let out a light, content sigh. Finally.

I swiftly finished my run and headed back to my apartment to clean up. I took a quick shower, did my hair then put on a casual outfit. By the time I was done it was almost time for us to meet.

I'd chosen the park that was located between our apartments so it was only a short walk. As I approached I saw that Chris was already stood waiting, which I was glad about.

"Hey," he said, with a cute smile spread across his lips. "Hi, where did you wanna go?" I asked. "Is he a starbucks or a cosy little café kinda guy?" I wondered. "I always go to this café ten minutes from here," he said. That answered my question. "Great, lead the way."

We made small talk as we walked. He asked how long I'd been running for and we briefly discussed the fact we'd seen each other so many times but never shared more than a friendly smile.

When we reached the café, which was tucked right on the corner of the street, we headed inside and both ordered a coffee. I was surprised I hadn't ever realised it was there but I was glad he'd shown me it since it was actually really cute.

We sat down opposite each other on one of the small tables at the front of the shop next to the window. "So... favourite colour?" He asked jokingly. I breathed out a chuckle. "I hate that question." I was hoping I wouldn't have to hear it for a while, since I was really starting to like Chris.

It took just a few weeks before we were quite comfortable with each other. We would regularly do our runs together since they fell around the same time but tonight I'm going round to his apartment for the first time to order a take out and watch a movie.

I put on some comfortable clothes, threw my hair up, grabbed a bottle of wine that I'd bought especially and walked the five minutes to his place.

I rang the doorbell and he answered soon after. I smiled softly at him as he welcomed me inside. "Wow, this is really nice," I complemented as I stepped in. His apartment was clean and quite cosy, kind of like the coffee shop.

We both sat down after he grabbed some glasses and poured us both some wine. I got comfy as he scrolled through netflix. This was exactly the kind of dates I enjoyed.

About an hour and a half into the movie (which ended up being Harry Potter) and after the takeaway had arrived and been eaten we sat close to each other, thighs touching and his arm around my shoulder. I could barely focus.

Though nothing else happened until it was time for me to leave, as it was now late and pitch black outside. I stood by the door, ready to go when Chris stopped me.

"Uh- before you go..." he began. I was hoping that he was doing what I thought he was doing. He leaned closer, his hand moving down to my hoodie covered waist. It was silent for a few moments longer before I closed the gap, connecting our lips for the first time.

When we both pulled away we shared a content smile. "Thank you for tonight, I'll see you soon?" I broke the silence. "Yeah, yeah. I'll text you." I nodded softly then waved slightly as I walked out of the door.

I was very excited to see him again and had a really good feeling about where this was going.

[clarkevision]

George Clarkey | Flowers of Regret

Summary: George goes on a lads holiday where he is unfaithful...

George Clarkey wasn’t just my boyfriend; he was my best friend, my partner in crime, and the person who could make even the worst days feel bearable. His laugh, the way it lit up his entire face, was something I couldn’t get enough of. From the moment we met, I felt like I’d found someone who truly got me.

Our relationship wasn’t perfect—what relationship is?—but it was ours. We’d spent late nights talking about everything from his YouTube channel to our dreams for the future. He wanted to grow his brand, keep making people laugh, and maybe one day settle down when the time felt right. I loved that about him—how he balanced ambition with warmth, never letting the pressures of his rising fame change who he was.

So when he told me he was going on a lads’ holiday to Ibiza with Arthur TV, Arthur Hill, and Chris, I wanted to be supportive. They’d been planning it for months—a chance to unwind, let loose, and celebrate the success of their channels.

“I’m happy for you,” I said one night as we curled up on the couch.

“You sure?” George asked, looking at me with those big, brown eyes of his. “I know Ibiza’s got a bit of a reputation, but it’s just going to be chill. Beach, drinks, banter. You know how it is.”

I forced a smile. “Of course. You deserve a break. Just... don’t forget to call me sometimes, okay?”

He grinned, pulling me closer. “I’d never forget about you.”

The first few days of the trip seemed harmless enough. George sent me updates—pictures of the boys lounging by the pool with beers in hand, group shots of them at sunset, and videos of their ridiculous antics.

Arthur TV, ever the instigator, seemed to be leading the charge. One video showed him trying to get Arthur Hill to dance in the middle of a crowded club while Chris cheered them on. George was in the background, laughing so hard he was crying.

I smiled at the clips, feeling a little less anxious. This was the George I knew—the George who loved his mates but always made time for me.

“You’re behaving, right?” I teased one evening, sending him a selfie of me in pajamas.

“Always,” he replied with a winking emoji.

But as the days went on, his messages became less frequent. The photos stopped, and our texts turned into brief exchanges that left me feeling more disconnected than ever.

“Having fun?” I asked on the third night, hoping for reassurance.

“Yeah, all good,” he replied hours later. No emoji, no follow-up.

I stared at my phone, the sinking feeling in my stomach growing heavier with each passing day.

When George finally came home, I was relieved but also nervous. He walked through the door looking tanned and relaxed, his hair tousled in that effortless way that always made him look like he belonged on the cover of a magazine.

“Hey, babe,” he said, dropping his bags and pulling me into a hug.

I wrapped my arms around him, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne, but something felt different. His hug wasn’t as tight as it usually was, and when I looked up at him, his eyes didn’t meet mine.

“How was it?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light.

“Yeah, it was good,” he said, shrugging. “Just the usual—beach, drinks, a bit of clubbing. Nothing too crazy.”

He kissed me quickly and headed to the kitchen, leaving me standing there, my heart sinking. Normally, George couldn’t stop talking after trips, reenacting every funny moment and showing me the footage he planned to use in his vlogs. This time, he seemed... guarded.

Over the next few days, the distance between us grew. George was quieter than usual, his energy subdued. He spent hours editing footage from the holiday, his headphones on as he stared at his laptop. I tried to give him space, but my unease was impossible to ignore.

One evening, as he sat on the couch, laptop balanced on his knees, I leaned over his shoulder. “Can I see what you’re working on?”

“It’s nothing exciting,” he said quickly, clicking away from a folder.

My heart sank. “You always show me your edits.”

He hesitated, then gave me a weak smile. “It’s just rough stuff. I’ll show you when it’s done.”

But I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was hiding something.

That night, after George fell asleep, I did something I’d never done before—I opened his laptop. I told myself it was nothing, that I’d find the usual clips of him and the boys being idiots. But as I scrolled through the folders, my hands began to shake.

There, tucked away in a folder with the dates of the trip, were photos and videos I wish I’d never seen.

In one video, George was dancing with a group of people in a club. At first, it looked innocent enough—until I noticed one woman in particular. She was gorgeous, her dark hair falling in waves over her shoulders, her smile bright and confident. She and George were pressed close together, her hands resting on his chest as they moved in sync.

Then came the kiss.

My stomach dropped as I watched George lean in, his lips meeting hers in a moment of drunken recklessness.

I slammed the laptop shut, my hands trembling.

The next morning, I confronted him. He was in the kitchen, making coffee, when I placed the laptop on the counter.

“Care to explain this?” I asked, my voice shaking.

George froze, his eyes widening as he saw the screen. “I—”

“You promised me,” I said, tears streaming down my face. “You promised you’d behave. That I had nothing to worry about.”

“I don’t know what happened,” he stammered, running a hand through his hair. “I was drunk, it was stupid—it didn’t mean anything.”

“But it meant something to me,” I snapped, my voice breaking. “You didn’t just hurt me, George. You broke my trust. You broke us.”

He stepped toward me, his eyes filled with tears. “Please, don’t go. I’ll do anything to make this right. You’re everything to me.”

I shook my head, backing away. “You made your choice in Ibiza. Now I’m making mine.”

As I packed my things, George sat on the bed, his head in his hands. I wanted to forgive him, to believe that it was just a mistake, but I couldn’t. Some lines couldn’t be uncrossed.

The days after I walked away from George were excruciating. Every corner of my apartment felt heavy with his absence—the cozy nights on the couch, the inside jokes, the sound of his laugh echoing through the rooms. But those memories were tainted now, overshadowed by what he’d done on that lads’ holiday.

My phone vibrated constantly, his name flashing on the screen more times than I could count. I ignored most of the messages, unwilling to face his words when my heart still felt so raw.

“Please talk to me. I’m so sorry.” “I miss you so much. I can’t believe I messed this up.” “You mean everything to me. Please give me a chance to fix this.”

The messages ranged from desperate apologies to quiet admissions of how much he missed me. I didn’t know how to respond. Part of me wanted to believe him, to hold onto the George I thought I knew, but another part of me couldn’t forget the betrayal.

One morning, I opened my door to find a bouquet of flowers waiting on my doorstep—peonies and tulips, a mix of soft pinks and whites. My favorites. Tucked inside was a small card in George’s handwriting.

“I know flowers can’t fix what I’ve done, but I wanted to remind you of how much you mean to me. I miss you more than I can put into words. Love, George.”

I stared at the card for a long time, my fingers tracing the words.

That same day, another message popped up on my phone.

“I left flowers for you. I don’t expect them to change anything, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how much you love them. I’m so sorry, and I’ll do anything to make this right.”

I didn’t reply, but I kept the flowers.

The next day, another delivery arrived. This time, it was a small box of my favorite chocolates, along with a handwritten note.

“I saw these and thought of you. Every little thing reminds me of you—every song, every place we used to go. I can’t stop thinking about how much I’ve hurt you, and I hate myself for it. You deserve so much better, but I want to prove that I can be better. I love you.”

The messages kept coming, each one a mix of remorse and longing.

“I miss your laugh.” “I miss your smile.” “I miss the way you’d always steal the blanket in the middle of the night and act like it wasn’t you.”

I hated how much his words tugged at my heart, how they reminded me of all the good times we’d shared before everything went wrong.

On the third day, George showed up at my door. He stood there holding another bouquet—this one bigger than the last—and looking utterly defeated. His eyes were red-rimmed, and he had the same messy, unshaven look he always got when he was stressed.

“Please,” he said softly, his voice cracking. “Can we talk?”

I hesitated, my heart pounding, but eventually stepped aside to let him in.

He set the flowers down on the table and turned to face me, his hands trembling slightly. “I don’t even know where to start,” he admitted, his voice raw with emotion. “I’ve been trying to figure out what to say, how to make you see how sorry I am, but nothing feels like enough.”

I crossed my arms, keeping my distance. “Words won’t change what you did, George.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “And I don’t expect you to forgive me just because I’m saying sorry. But I can’t let this go without trying. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I ruined it because I was selfish and stupid. And I hate myself for that.”

Tears welled up in his eyes as he continued. “I miss you so much it hurts. I miss waking up next to you, hearing your voice, seeing your smile. I miss us. And I’ll do anything—anything—to earn your trust back, even if it takes the rest of my life.”

I felt a lump form in my throat. “How do I know you won’t do it again?”

“You don’t,” he said honestly, his voice breaking. “All I can do is show you that I’ve learned from this, that I’m never going to let myself make such a horrible mistake again. You mean too much to me. I can’t lose you.”

Over the next week, George didn’t let up. He sent more messages—each one heartfelt and raw, never pressuring me, but always reminding me how much he cared.

“I saw a couple walking in the park today and thought of you. Do you remember that time we got caught in the rain and you laughed the whole way home? I miss that laugh.” “I’m not giving up on us. Not because I deserve forgiveness, but because you deserve to know how much I love you.” “I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

One evening, as I sat alone in my apartment reading his latest message, something inside me shifted. His words weren’t just empty promises—they were full of vulnerability, of someone who truly understood the weight of what he’d done.

I picked up my phone and typed a single message.

“I’m not saying I can forgive you yet. But maybe we can talk.”

The reply came almost instantly.

“Thank you. Thank you so much. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

When George showed up the next day, he looked nervous but hopeful. We sat on the couch, the air between us heavy with unspoken feelings.

“I’m not ready to jump back into anything,” I told him honestly. “But I’m willing to see if you can prove yourself.”

George nodded, his eyes filled with gratitude. “I will. I promise you, I will.”

It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t a guarantee of a happy ending. But it was a start.

[theresglittleronthefloor]

blind date - arthur hill

summary: chris sets arthur and Y/N up on a blind date.

warnings: none

Y/N adjusted her coat, nervously glancing at her reflection in the restaurant window. Chrismd had been cryptic about this setup, only promising, “You’ll like him. Trust me.” She hadn’t expected her date to be Arthur Hill, Chris' charming roommate who she’d only met in a pub golf video.

Arthur looked just as surprised when he arrived, a slightly crooked smile forming as he recognized her. “Well, this is unexpected,” he said, his voice carrying that familiar warmth.

Y/N laughed, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Small world. Or maybe just a small circle of meddling friends.”

The date was easy, the conversation flowing effortlessly from their shared love of football to the ridiculous behind-the-scenes antics of their respective YouTube channels. Arthur told a story about an ill-fated video shoot involving a drone and a football that left Y/N in stitches, while she shared a tale of a baking disaster that had gone viral.

By the time dessert arrived, they were leaning in close, speaking in low, conspiratorial tones like old friends. The nervous energy from the start of the evening had melted into something more comfortable, more exciting.

As they left the restaurant, the chill of the evening air was bracing but not unwelcome. They lingered on the pavement outside, the city lights flickering around them.

Arthur stuffed his hands into his pockets, rocking slightly on his heels. “I don’t know if I should thank Chris or interrogate him for not telling us we were being set up.”

Y/N grinned. “Maybe both. He does deserve some credit, though… I had a great time tonight.”

“Me too,” Arthur said, his smile softening. “So… shall we give Chris something to brag about and plan another one of these?”

“Definitely,” Y/N replied, her heart racing as Arthur took a small step closer.

There was a moment of hesitation, his gaze searching hers, before he leaned in and kissed her. It was soft, brief, and sweet—just enough to leave her wanting more.

Arthur pulled back with a sheepish smile, cheeks slightly flushed. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Arthur,” she said, her smile lingering long after he disappeared down the street.

As Y/N walked home, she sent a quick text to Chrismd: You’re off the hook. But don’t get used to playing Cupid.

Her phone buzzed almost immediately: Told you you’d like him.

And she did. She really did.

[orchidniins]

Aftercare | George Clarke

Summary: George taking care of you after a rough night in the sheets. Pairing: GeorgeClarkey x afab!Reader Warnings: Smut, Fluff Word count: 1.1k A/N: My favourite thing in the world to write is George Clarke smut. Definitely want to write a series for him once I clear all my asks (Open to ideas for this). Thanks for the request anon! This one's short, but I hope you enjoy it!

Masterlist

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

George has you flipped onto your stomach, his hands gripping tightly onto the sides of your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he drives deeper.

“Fuck…George…”, you whined, your moans muffled by the pillow. He pulls you back onto his cock with each thrust. Sweat beaded down his face as he pounded into you ruthlessly from behind, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room, pushing you closer to the edge with every stroke.

At this point, you had become a whimpering mess, your body trembling with each thrust. “George, I can’t take this anymore,” you babbled mindlessly, your voice breaking with the intensity of the pleasure coursing through you.

“So soon?” he taunts, his tone dripping with mockery. He wraps his arm around your stomach, pulling you up until your back is flush against his chest. His hot breath tickles your ear as he continues his merciless thrusts.

“But you take my cock so well; you can hold on a little longer,” he growls, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. The primal sound sends shivers down your spine.

His hand slides down, fingers brushing over your sensitive clit, adding to the overwhelming sensation. You can’t help but cry out, your body writhing against him, edging you closer to your orgasm.

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whine, throwing your head back.

George takes the opportunity to snake his hand around your throat, somehow drilling into you harder than before. Your hand grips his forearm tightly, trying to keep yourself up on your knees.

“Fuck y/n,” he groans, feeling your walls clench around his cock. The way his hand grips tighter at your waist, you know he’s close as well.

Seconds later, your entire body begins to shake as you unravel around him. Pleasure-filled groans and screams of his name fill the room. The intensity of your orgasm makes your vision blur, and your nails dig into his forearm as you cling to him.

George's pace falters, a low growl escaping his lips as he feels your walls pulsate around his cock. With a final, deep thrust, his cock twitches before he releases inside you, filling you with his warmth.

You let out a breathy moan at the sensation of him spilling into you, intensifying your climax. As you both ride out the waves of pleasure, George’s grip on your throat loosens, his lips finding the curve of your shoulder in a tender kiss.

Your body melts into his, slumping back against him as your thighs threaten to give out. George’s strong arms wrap around your waist, holding you up as you both catch your breath.

He pulls out slowly, leaving you a worn-out mess.

His hands softly rub your waist, and his face nuzzles into the crook of your neck. With gentle care, he turns you around and lays you down, pulling you onto his chest. He places soft kisses on your head. brushing the hair out of your tired face. 

You swear it's like this man has two personalities. One moment, he’s pounding into you mercilessly, and the next, he’s kissing you so tenderly. He always takes extra care of you after sex, especially when he’s been rough like this.

He looks down at your tired expression, “Angel”, he softly murmurs into your ear,, "I'm so sorry, was I too rough?"

You gently shake your head, meeting his gaze with a slight smile. "No, George, it was perfect," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. He leans in, softly kissing your forehead, his touch reassuring and tender.

"I'll be right back, okay?" George murmurs softly, though he doesn't wait for your answer. His lips press lightly against your shoulder before he gently separates from you, sighing as he gets out of bed.

He disappears into the bathroom for a moment, and you feel your eyes growing heavy with contentment. A minute later, you sense his hand gently caressing your cheek, coaxing you to open your eyes. "I got you some water," he says softly as you sit up, accepting the glass and taking a few sips. 

He watches you attentively, concern evident in his eyes. "Are you feeling okay? Any pain?" he asks gently.

"I'm okay," you assure him, meeting his gaze with a smile. He softly runs his hand over your thigh, "I ran you a bath, let's get you cleaned up, "he says tenderly, his voice filled with care and affection.

You pout playfully at him, and he smiles warmly, his eyes full of affection as he gazes at you. "I know you're tired, but the warm water will make you feel better," he assures you, his voice soothing and caring. "Come on," he continues softly, reaching out to lift you effortlessly into his arms. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, feeling safe in his embrace.

He gently helps you into the tub, settling in behind you as you rest against his chest. His fingers trace over the bruises he had left on your waist, and he asks you softly, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You smile reassuringly, leaning into his touch. "I'm okay, George," you say softly, taking his hand and kissing it before lacing your fingers together. "Thank you for taking care of me."

He presses a kiss to your shoulder, his voice tender. "Always, darling. I'll always take care of you."

Once you two are cleaned up, dried off and changed, he helps you out of the bath, his arms supporting you gently despite your protests that you can walk. Ignoring your objections, George carries you back to the bed and carefully lays you down, tenderly ensuring you're comfortable before returning to your side.

He settles against the pillows, pulling you close with his arm wrapped instinctively around you. His steady heartbeat soothes you as you nestle against him. You rest your head on his chest, feeling the rhythmic rise and fall as he breathes.

His fingers find their way into your hair, gently stroking in slow, soothing motions that relax you further. You cuddle closer, absorbing the warmth of his body and the comfort of his touch.

"I love you so much," he whispers softly, his voice a murmur in the quiet room. You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, his blue eyes filled with affection as your hand rests gently on his chest. "I love you too, baby," you reply tenderly,

He leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering briefly. As you feel the exhaustion take over you, George's hand moves to cradle your head against his chest, his heartbeat lulling you into sleep. 

Soon you drift off, enveloped in the comfort of his embrace.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A/N: Thanks for reading guys! I'm trying to get through all my pending requests now that I'm back.

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

[authortelevision]

arthur frederick and the new producer: the end₊˚⊹♡

words: 7, 504✦ .ᐟ

♯┆arthurtv slow burn, bach and arthur podcast

after lara leaves bach and arthur’s podcast, you become her replacement. after discovering that arthur hates change, it takes a lot for him to warm up to you and become friends. it also takes a lot for him to admit how he truly feels about you.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

Chapter Nine

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

Chapter Ten ₊˚⊹♡

You and Isaac sat across from each other at the table in the studio, cards in hand, as you both played a game of Uno. Arthur, sitting off to the side, was eating his lunch, looking mildly amused but mostly preoccupied with his food.

“Why did you even bring this here?” you asked Isaac as you placed a card down with a satisfying slap.

Isaac shrugged, not looking up from the game. “I don’t know, just in case Arthur gets too boring so we can actually have fun.”

Arthur, his mouth full of food, glared over at him. “Hey, I heard that,” he muttered, but his words were muffled by a piece of bread.

Isaac smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Ew, Arthur, please stop spitting your food out when you talk,” he said, scrunching up his face in disgust.

Arthur, still chewing, rolled his eyes and shook his head but didn’t bother responding, choosing to focus on finishing his lunch instead.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you drew another card. “I think you just got roasted, Arthur,” you teased, watching him shake his head in mock exasperation as he continued eating, clearly trying not to laugh.

You and Isaac resumed the game, the sound of cards shuffling and playful bickering filling the air, while Arthur, despite his grumbling, seemed oddly content in his corner.

“So,” he began, casually tossing down another card, “you wanna come out with us tonight?”

You raised an eyebrow, tapping your cards against the table as you considered the offer. “Who’s going?” you asked, already wondering if you’d even be up for it.

Isaac shrugged nonchalantly. “You know, like George, Arthur Hill, Chris… the usual people who would go out.”

You hesitated, unsure. “Oh, I don’t think they’d want me there.”

Isaac immediately rolled his eyes, clearly not buying your excuse. “Don’t be stupid,” he said, grinning. “Arthur literally talks about you non-stop when he’s drunk. You’re basically there every night.”

You loved that part of Arthur, the part of him that made him so special to you. He was just so passionate about everything, and it extra special that he was so passionate about you. Regardless of how you felt about Arthur, Isaac’s words echoed in your mind as you tried to play it cool, but you couldn’t help but feel a little caught off guard by his honesty. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, Arthur, who had been finishing his lunch nearby, suddenly looked up and chimed in.

“Yeah, I mean, I do talk about you. But not as much as he’s making out to be. Any ways, you should come out. It’s fun when you’re with us.”

You looked at him suspiciously, feeling face heat up, but didn’t know what to say. Arthur’s new casual confidence left you speechless for a moment, but Isaac was quick to add, “See? Told you. You’re practically one of us already.”

You bit your lip, looking between them both. “Okay, okay,” you relented with a smile. “I’ll come. But no promises, I might bail early.”

Isaac laughed, clearly satisfied with the result. “You’ll have fun. Trust me.”

————————————

You stood in front of the mirror, finishing off your makeup and double-checking your outfit when Emma suddenly popped her head into your room with a big smile on her face.

“You look so pretty,” she said, her voice genuine as she leaned against the doorframe.

You gave her a funny look, rolling your eyes. “I literally have a boyfriend, you know.”

Emma laughed and walked further into the room, her eyes sparkling. “I know, and I’m so happy for you! Honestly, it’s been so nice seeing you so happy lately.”

You grinned, feeling a little shy at her enthusiasm. “No need to get all sentimental on me.”

She shrugged, a soft smile on her face. “I’m just glad he makes you happy. I was worried for a while, you know, with everything that happened before. But he’s really grown on me. He seems like a good guy.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised at how supportive she was. “You actually like him?”

Emma nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I do. He’s a little… annoying sometimes, but I can tell he really cares about you. You deserve that.”

Your heart warmed at her words. “Thanks, Em. That really means a lot to me.”

She gave you a wink. “Of course. Just don’t forget about your old flatmate when you’re busy being all in love with him.”

You laughed and shook your head. “I won’t. Promise.”

You grabbed your jacket and headed for the door, feeling the familiar rush of excitement to see Arthur. As you stepped out of your room, you found Emma now lounging on the sofa, scrolling through her phone.

Before you could leave, you walked over to her, giving her a tight hug. “I really love you, you know,” you said, squeezing her a little tighter. “More than anyone in the world.”

Emma looked up, surprised by your sudden sentiment. She grinned and pulled you in tighter. “Even Arthur?”

You pulled back slightly, giving her a playful look. “Way more than Arthur,” you teased, “You’re my best friend.”

She chuckled, clearly pleased by your words. “I’m glad to hear that,” she said, ruffling your hair. “Go have fun with your boy. I’ll hold down the fort here.”

You smiled, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude. “I will, and I’ll see you later.”

With that, you turned and left, closing the door behind you. As you stepped out into the cool air, you spotted Arthur waiting for you, a smile breaking across your face when you saw him.

Everything felt right in that moment, and you couldn’t help but think about how lucky you were to have both Emma and Arthur in your life.

You walked up to Arthur, and as soon as he saw you, his face lit up. Without hesitation, he pulled you into a tight hug, his warmth wrapping around you. You breathed in the familiar scent of his cologne, feeling at peace in his arms.

As he pulled away slightly, he whispered softly in your ear, “You look gorgeous.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, the compliment making your heart skip a beat. A smile spread across your face as you looked up at him.

Turning around, you waved at Emma, who was standing at the door, watching the two of you. She gave you a little wave in return, a content smile on her face.

Arthur followed your gaze, noticing her too, and gave her a casual wave as well. “See you later, Emma!” he called out.

She shot him a playful wink. “Have fun, you two!” she teased, before disappearing back inside.

You smiled to yourself, turning back to Arthur. “Ready to go?” you asked, your hand slipping into his.

“Absolutely,” he replied, his smile only growing as he walked alongside you.

Everything felt right, and the world felt a little more complete with Arthur by your side.

You walked into the bar with Arthur by your side, the bright glow of the warm lights and the buzz of conversations making the atmosphere feel welcoming. As soon as the guys saw you, they greeted you with smiles, and you couldn’t help but feel like it wouldn’t be as bad as you originally thought.

“Hey! It’s nice to see you!” George said first, pulling you into a hug. He was always friendly, and his bear hug made you feel safer.

“I didn’t know you were coming out tonight!” Chris spoke, wrapping you in another hug. “Glad you made it.”

Arthur stood back for a moment, watching with a small smile as the guys showered you with affection. It was clear that they were all happy to see you.

“I didn’t know you were the popular one,” he teased, nudging you playfully.

You smirked at him. “I’m just that good,” you replied, winking.

Isaac, always with a quick joke, grinned at you. “She’s the life of the party now, obviously,” he said. “But, alright, let’s get drinks, yeah?”

They all made their way to the bar, chatting as they ordered drinks for the table. Arthur leaned in slightly, his voice low and teasing, “You’ve got them all wrapped around your finger, huh?”

You laughed softly, rolling your eyes. “It’s not my fault they’re all this nice,” you said, glancing over at the group.

As the drinks arrived, you all made your way back to the table. Laughter and conversation filled the space, and for the first time in a while, you felt completely at ease surrounded by Arthur’s friends.

As you continued the night, you moved to a different location. The club was filled with energy, the music louder as the night wore on. Drinks kept pouring, and everyone seemed to be in high spirits, especially the boys. They were all getting progressively more drunk, their faces flushed with the warmth of alcohol.

Arthur, George, and Chris were joking around, playfully pushing each other, while Isaac sat beside you at the table, leaning back in his chair. He had that relaxed, stupid grin on his face, a little tipsy but still confident with his words.

You looked around, smiling at how affectionate everyone had gotten as the drinks took hold. Arthur wrapped an arm around George’s shoulders as they laughed at some joke, and Chris was constantly giving Arthur playful shoves, all in good fun. It was clear that their relationship was strong, the kind of friendship where physical affection came naturally, but in a totally loving, fun way.

“Hey,” you turned to Isaac, who was busy swirling his drink around. You leaned in a little, wanting to make sure he could hear you over the chatter. “Thank you for inviting me. It really means a lot.”

Isaac looked at you, his face softening as he gave a small nod. “Of course, I’m really glad you came,” he said with a smile. “Plus, you deserve to have some fun, too.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, “It’s nice being here, seeing Arthur so happy.”

He gave you a kind look, raising an eyebrow. “Well, Arthur seems very happy with you, but you might have to fight for his love” he said, gesturing to where Arthur was laughing hysterically at something Chris had said.

You chuckled, glancing at Arthur who was now leaning into George as if they were some kind of drunken conjoined twins. “Yeah,” you said with a grin. “I think I’ll just let Chris have him”

Isaac took a sip of his drink, a small glint in his eyes as he leaned in closer, lowering his voice a bit. “Just so you know, Arthur’s been telling Chris all night that he thinks he loves you,” he said. “Said he’s pretty lucky to have you in his life.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that. But before you could reply, Chris stumbled over and threw himself dramatically across the table, slinging an arm over your shoulder as he slurred, “This night is amazing, right? I love you guys. You’re all my best friends.”

You laughed, your cheeks warm as Chris smothered you in a hug. “I love you too, Chris,” you said, patting him on the back. It was impossible not to be affected by the overwhelming sense of affection in the air. It was lighthearted, fun, and easy, and you were happy to be a part of it all. You were just so happy to be a part of Arthur’s life like this.

Isaac watched the exchange, shaking his head with a grin. “See?” he said, taking another drink. “That’s what I’m talking about. That man is full of love you gotta hold your boy close to chest.”

You grinned back at him, feeling comfortable in the chaos of the evening. “Yeah, you’re right, I gotta look after my boy.”

As the night went on, the jokes and affection only grew, everyone getting more carefree and silly. But in that moment, as you sat next to Isaac and watched your friends laugh and joke, you felt a deep sense of belonging. You were glad you were there.

Arthur and Chris were in their own little world, joking around across the table. Chris had his arm draped over Arthur’s shoulder, laughing at some ridiculous story, and Arthur was trying to play it cool, though his sappy smile gave away how much he was enjoying it.

Out of nowhere, Chris reached over, giving Arthur a playful smack on the ass. The sound echoed slightly, and Arthur jumped, wide-eyed. He shot Chris a glare, his hands going up in defense.

“Stop! I’m literally married!” Arthur exclaimed, laughing, his voice full of exaggerated outrage. “What’s wrong with you, man?”

Chris just cackled, shaking his head. “What, it’s just a little love tap! Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned back in your chair, glancing at the two of them with a grin. “Chris, you can keep him,” you said.

Arthur dramatically put his hand to his forehead, playing up the melodrama. “Well, guess that’s it for me then,” he said, feigning heartbreak. “I’m being traded off. Someone call my wife.”

Chris raised his glass in victory. “Sorry, Arthur, but I think I’ve got a new favorite.”

You chuckled, watching them laugh back and forth. It was all in good fun, and seeing them so carefree made the night even more enjoyable.

The walk home felt a little surreal, the city streets dim and quiet around you as the adrenaline of the night began to wear off. You’d sobered up enough to feel grounded again, but Arthur, still a little drunk, was stumbling beside you, his steps unsteady but his energy still infectious.

He kept leaning in, pressing soft, playful kisses to your cheek and temple, laughing lightly each time. Every few steps, he’d kiss you again, this time lingering just a bit longer than the last.

“Arthur, stop,” you laughed, trying to push him away gently as you nearly lost your balance from his affection. “You’re gonna trip us both up if you keep doing that.”

He grinned, unbothered by your protest, and leaned in for another kiss, this time targeting your forehead. “I can’t help it,” he said with a little giggle. “You’re just too lovely to resist.”

You half-stumbled as you tried to step around him, giving him a playful shove. “Seriously, I’m not going to be able to walk properly if you keep this up,” you warned, laughing despite yourself.

Arthur just wrapped his arm around your waist to steady you, pulling you closer as if he hadn’t heard a word you said. “I’m helping,” he said, his voice full of that familiar drunken sweetness. He leaned down to plant another quick kiss on your lips, this one too brief for your liking but just enough to make your heart race a little.

“Arthur!” You giggled, unable to hide your smile. “You’re so annoying, oh my god!”

He pulled back, still grinning like he’d just won the lottery. “I know, I know,” he said, his voice slightly slurring but his affection completely clear. “But you like it.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head, but the warmth spreading through your chest told you everything you needed to know.

As you finally made it to Arthur’s flat, the warmth of his embrace and his kisses didn’t let up. He was still kissing you, his lips persistent against yours, but he quickly started to shift down to your neck. The sensation of his soft lips trailing along your skin melted your thoughts away.

“Arthur…” you murmured, feeling your blood burning through your veins as he left little marks on your neck. “Can you at least take your clothes off?”

You meant it as a joke, trying to redirect his attention to something more practical, like getting into his pyjamas, but Arthur just chuckled against your skin, the vibration of his breath raising the hairs on your collarbone. “Oh, you are such a flirt,” he teased, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile, even as he leaned in and kissed you again, more passionately this time, helping you out of your jacket. You tried to take control of the situation, urging him, “Arthur, seriously, get in your pyjamas first—”

But he didn’t listen. Instead, he kissed you on a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, and the reaction was immediate. You let out a soft whimper, not quite able to hide the effect it had on you.

“Sorry,” Arthur murmured, his voice low, the playful teasing from before replaced with a deeper, more intense tone. He didn’t sound sorry at all though.

You exhaled sharply, feeling incredibly turned on. “God, Arthur… please…” you whispered, trying to gather your thoughts but not wanting to pull away to finally get the change of clothes you’d both been talking about. But Arthur only held you closer, his lips hovering at your ear as he whispered, “Please what darling?”

It was impossible to argue with that. You couldn’t deny how much you enjoyed the closeness. The strong smell of his deodorant wearing away through the night and being replaced by the scent of Arthur’s desperation made your heart pound in your chest in ways you couldn’t explain.

Arthur’s lips were addictive as they moved from your neck to your jaw, his hands gently guiding you toward the bedroom. He kissed you deeply, one hand resting on your waist while the other cupped your face, as if trying to keep you close, not letting you get away.

You stumbled a little, distracted by the feeling of his lips trailing against yours, but he kept you steady, leading you forward with a powerful intensity in every touch. You didn’t say anything, but your heart was racing, each kiss leaving behind warm imprints of his love for you.

He kissed your lips again, and again, moving you gently backward, step by step, until your knees bumped into the edge of the bed. Arthur paused, looking down at you with that mischievous glint in his eyes, as if savouring every second.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked softly, his voice hushed, as if the moment was suddenly too real for both of you.

You nodded, too consumed by the intensity of the moment to form any more words. Without waiting for an answer, Arthur kissed you again, this time slower, deeper, and with an almost ungodly touch. His hands brushed over your skin, drawing you into him as he pressed you down onto the bed.

As his lips moved from yours to your neck again, his hands slowly started to explore, pulling your shirt off as his kisses followed the line of your collarbone. The room felt like it was spinning, your mind was consumed by Arthur, every touch, every kiss, every low moan. You tangled your fingers in his hair, feeling each lock pass through them with every kiss.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, “I want this,” he whispered, as if confirming it to himself as much as to you.

You simply smiled, tugging him back down toward you, letting his lips claim yours once more, unable to deny how much you wanted him too.

“You look absolutely stunning,” Arthur whispered, his voice like a confession meant only for you. His gaze fixated on your lips, slightly parted, your brows furrowing under the weight of his admiration. For a moment, he simply stared, as if committing every detail to memory, his breath falling from his lips in ragged, uneven pants. His eyes, a deep chocolate brown, glimmered with something so utterly consuming.

Arthur’s hands brushed over your skin with a heavenly tenderness. The contrast of his hot fingertips against the cold softness of your skin sent shivers dancing along your spine. Starting at your shoulders, his fingers pressed gently into your muscles, kneading away tension as though his sole purpose was to unravel you. A quiet sigh escaped your lips, and Arthur’s lips quirked into the faintest smile, as though your contentment was his greatest reward.

Each movement of his was deliberate and filled with adoration. His hands skimmed lower, following the curve of your arms and trailing back up to cradle the base of your neck.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he murmured roughly. His breath was hot against the curve of your neck as he leaned closer, and the world seemed to fall away, leaving only him. “Wanting to feel your soft skin against mine, to lose myself in you.”

His lips grazed the shell of your ear leaving you breathless. Your back arched instinctively, your body answering his touch without thought, a silent invitation for him to go deeper, to explore further. His hands followed, tracing the curve of your back with a languid, unhurried intensity that left your heart pounding.

Arthur’s lips brushed against your jaw, a whisper of a kiss that lingered as though savoring the taste of you. “Every inch of you,” he murmured, his voice heavy with emotion, “I want to know it all. Every curve, every breath, every moment of you.”

His words wrapped around you like a spell, and his hands, now bolder, continued their journey down. He kissed his way down your neck, peppering soft kisses along your collarbone. His beard tickled your skin, a delightful sensation that made you giggle softly. Arthur's hands glided down your sides, his thumbs brushing the edges of your breasts, causing you to catch your breath. He took his time, savouring every moment, as if it were a delicious meal to be enjoyed slowly.

Arthur unhooked your bra, revealing your breasts to his hungry gaze. He admired them, his eyes darkening, the chocolate becoming lovingly bitter. "So beautiful," he whispered. He leaned down, his warm breath caressing your nipples, causing them to harden in anticipation.

His lips found one sensitive nipple, sucking gently. You moaned, grabbing fist fulls of his hair. Arthur's tongue was so slow and teasing, bestowing upon you a symphony of sensations. He lavished attention on one breast before moving to the other, ensuring that both received equal adoration.

As he worshipped your breasts, his hands roamed freely, exploring your curves. He traced the outline of your waist, the dip of your hips, and the softness of your thighs.

Arthur's fingers unbuttoned your jeans, his movements painfully unhurried. He slid them down your legs, his eyes never leaving your face, seeking your approval every step of the way. You nodded quickly, letting your mouth hang open as he kissed you.

He knelt before you, his eyes locked on yours, as he gently removed your underwear, exposing your pussy to his eager gaze. Arthur's breath sped up at the sight, his desire for you evident in the way his body trembled.

"You're so beautiful, so wet for me," he whispered. He leaned forward carefully. You shivered, your pleasure pulsating through your veins as he blew gently.

Arthur's tongue basically rolled out of his mouth, tasting you for the first time. He moaned, the vibrations reverberating through your body, as he savored you. His tongue moved in slow circles, exploring every inch of you, driving you insane.

You arched your back, pushing your hips forward, seeking more of his touch. Arthur obliged, his tongue delving deeper, finding that sweet spot that had you crying out in ecstasy. He suckled gently, his fingers finding your clit, teasing it with feather-light touches that had you trembling on the edge of release.

"Oh, Arthur," you gasped, your hands gripping the sheets as your orgasm built. "Don’t Stop. Fuck, please..."

He didn't. Arthur was almost drunk of your pleasure, your moans making his pace get faster until it was too much to control.

Your climax hit you like a wave, crashing over you and sweeping you away. You cried out, your body trembling. Arthur continued his devouring, riding the storm with you, ensuring your orgasm was as intense and satisfying as it could be.

As your tremors subsided, Arthur slowly made his way up your body, his lips seeking yours. He kissed you roughly and passionately, sharing the taste of your climax. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close.

"You’re so gorgeous," he whispered against your lips, his voice filled with awe.

With that, Arthur positioned himself between your legs, his hard length pressing against your entrance. He looked into your eyes, seeking your consent, and you nodded, eager for more.

He entered you slowly, inch by inch, his eyes never leaving yours. The sensation of being filled by him was exquisite, and you both groaned in unison as he seated himself fully within you.

Arthur began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate. He set a gentle rhythm, taking his time to ensure your pleasure. He was mindful of your every reaction, adjusting his pace and angle until he hear you cry out his name.

"You feel so good," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

You moaned in response, your nails digging into his back, leaving deep red lines. Arthur's hips moved in a steady rhythm, his beard brushing against your neck. He kissed and bite at your sensitive skin, his touch a perfect contrast to the deep, almost euphoric pleasure of his thrusts.

He whispered words of adoration, praising your beauty and your responsiveness. His words were like fuel to the fire, igniting your desire and making you crave him even more.

As he continued to move within you, Arthur's pace gradually increased, his thrusts becoming more messy. He was losing himself in the sensations, in the feel of your body wrapped around his. You matched his rhythm, your bodies moving as one, a perfect duet of pleasure.

Your hands roamed over his back, feeling the movement of muscles beneath his skin, as he pushed deeper into you. You could feel your orgasm building again, a familiar tension coiling within you, and you knew Arthur was close as well.

"I'm so close," you whispered, your breath coming in short gasps.

"Me too," he grunted, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

With a final, powerful thrust, Arthur sent you spiraling into another mind-shattering climax. Your bodies trembled in unison, caught in the throes of ecstasy. He filled you completely, his release hot and intense, as he called out your name.

As your hearts raced and your breathing slowly returned to normal, Arthur collapsed onto the bed beside you, pulling you close.

The bed’s residual warmth lingered as you both lay entwined, the sheets a tangle from you and Arthur. His head was nestled against your chest, his breath soft and subtle against your skin. His hand rested gently on your side, while your fingers absentmindedly traced circles on his back.

He nuzzled into you, his voice a soft murmur. “My love?”

You looked down at him. “Yeah? What’s up?”

He shifted slightly, his eyes still closed. “I love you.”

Your breath stuttered for a second, surprised by the words. You hadn’t expected him to say it so openly, so freely. It felt like something monumental that you couldn’t quite put into words. You swallowed your nerves and smiled softly, holding him closer. “I love you too.”

He hummed contently against you, his voice soft and sleepy. “Mhm, yeah…” He snuggled in a little more, his body still, his breath slow.

A sudden thought made you pull back slightly to look at him, your fingers tracing through his hair. “When did you realise?” you asked, your voice hushed.

Arthur paused for a moment, his eyes still heavy with sleep, but something else in his eyes, his eyebrows were furrowed and his face was relaxed and gentle. He let out a light sigh before speaking.

“I don’t know exactly,” he began, his voice soft but steady. “Maybe it started when we went out for that coffee date… I remember thinking that I could talk to you about anything, and that was something new for me. But then, every time we hung out, it felt like… like it wasn’t just about having fun or passing the time. It felt real, you know? The way we could just be with each other, like I didn’t have to try to be anything I wasn’t.”

You smiled, running your thumb over his cheek.

“And then there were all those moments when we just laughed, when we didn’t even have to say much. Just being around you felt right. It’s like, I didn’t realise it then, but looking back, it was always there, in every little thing we did.”

Arthur’s eyes fluttered closed again, and he adjusted his arm around you. “I just—I don’t know. I guess I just love you. I’ve always loved you.”

You held him tighter, feeling the soft beat of his heart against your chest. Your own heart was full, a gentle smile tugging at your lips as you kissed his forehead lightly. “I’m glad you realised,” you whispered.

Arthur smiled into your chest, his breathing slowing even more as sleep began to overtake him. “Me too,” he mumbled, barely audible.

“When did you fall in love with me?”

As you laid there, the warmth of Arthur’s body pressed against you and the soft rhythm of his breath filling the silence, his question echoed in your mind. His eyes were closed now, his face peaceful as he began to drift off, but there was something in his question that made your heart feel heavier, yet lighter at the same time.

You hesitated for a moment, thinking back to all the little moments that had slowly built up to this. It wasn’t a single moment, a defining moment. No, it was everything. You smiled softly as your fingers traced idle circles on his back.

You opened your mouth, ready to speak, but you realised you had to think about it, really think about how long you’d known. You thought about the first time you really got to know him, how his jokes, his passion, his beautiful smile had drawn you in. It wasn’t supposed to be anything more than just work, just the podcast, just two people who would share the same space for a while, but somewhere in the middle of it all, you fell in love.

“I don’t know, Arthur,” you said quietly, your voice blending softly with the white noise around you both, as if finally speaking the truth out loud made it feel like everything had clicked into place. You could feel Arthur’s body soften against you, but you knew he wasn’t fully awake. So, you continued, knowing he would hear it anyway, even in his sleep.

“From the moment we started hanging out, I didn’t realise it, but there was something about you. At first, I thought it was just… you know, you being you. But then we’d talk and talk and I’d catch myself looking forward to hearing your voice, even when we were just texting about random things, like what movie we should watch for the podcast, or whatever weird topic you were passionate about that week. I remember you’d say these little things that would make me laugh, like the time you got so passionate about some movie I hadn’t even seen, but you were so excited to share it with me anyway. You didn’t even know you were doing it, but you were always so considerate, so you. That’s when I started to realise how much I was drawn to you, more than just your beautiful face.”

You let out a quiet sigh, remembering how desperate you were for him to see you, to notice you, to just be friends with you. It was strange to think back to the first time you found yourself standing by your window, waiting for Arthur to show up at midnight, the cold winter air biting at your skin as you told yourself, It’s fine, it’s just Arthur, but in the pit of your stomach, it felt like something else. The thought of him walking in, his scarf wrapped around his neck, his eyes focused on you, like he was waiting for something, too.

“Then there was that night,” you said, a smile forming on your lips as the memory surfaced. “When you came over in the middle of the night, just to hang out, and I realised you’d traveled all that way just to see me. And I remember thinking, This is it. That night, it wasn’t just about the movie, or the podcast, or even the fact that you wanted to spend time with me. It was the way you looked at me, the way you listened to me, like I was the only person who mattered. That’s when I realised I cared about you so much more than I ever thought possible.”

You could feel Arthur’s soft breaths, his chest rising and falling steadily, and it made you smile even more as you continued.

“You know, I thought I’d just be friends with you. Honestly, after that first awkward moment when when we went out to that market and all I could think about was how much i loved just being with you, no one else, I figured, This is just going to be a weird little friendship. But then… something kept happening. Every time you came to see me, even if it was just for work, I’d start feeling like maybe it was something more. Like when you showed up at my flat, and you were nervous and cute, and we just fell into the rhythm of being together. And when you kissed me that night, I don’t think I’d ever felt more special in that moment.”

You laughed to yourself, remembering how embarrassed you both had been afterward, and how awkward it felt, yet perfect at the same time.

“And then the way you’d show up to work with that stupid smile on your face, making my heart skip a beat every time I saw you. Even the teasing from Isaac about you liking me, all of that, it was building something bigger than I realised. I guess it was all those little moments with you, when you took care of me when I needed it, when we shared those late-night talks after everyone else had gone home. And then, when we started saying things to each other that weren’t just ‘I like hanging out with you,’ but ‘I like you’, really like you. That was when I knew.”

You hesitated, your gaze softening as it settled on Arthur’s peaceful face, his breath fanning over your chest. His expression was so vulnerable and truly peaceful, it forced a truth you’d been circling for longer than you cared to admit, out of you. “I think I’ve always loved you,” you began, your voice trembling. The words felt new and yet familiar, like they’d always been waiting for you to uncover them. “Maybe not all at once, but in pieces… little by little, over the months. And I didn’t even see it for what it was. Not until now.”

Your fingers brushed lightly through his hair, the soft strands slipping between them as you paused, searching for the right words. “I didn’t realise it when you made me laugh on the worst days or when you stayed, even when I gave you every reason to leave. I didn’t see it when you looked at me with those lovely brown eyes. But it was always there, wasn’t it? This… love. Quiet, patient, waiting for me to understand.”

Arthur stirred faintly in his sleep, shifting closer, his arms tightening around you as if he could sense the depth of your thoughts even now. His lips curled into the faintest smile, and the feeling made your chest ache. You pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, lingering there as the truth settled fully into your heart.

“And now I know,” you whispered, your words meant only for the walls of the room and the man in your arms. “I’ve loved you for longer than I can even remember. Longer than I knew. And somehow… you waited for me to catch up.”

Arthur’s warmth seeped into you, like his soul was combining with yours through your flesh. For the first time in what felt like forever, there was no urgency, no need to run from your thoughts or drown them out. You just let yourself feel.

You opened your eyes, staring at the ceiling for a long moment before letting your gaze drift back to him. Even in sleep, Arthur had this way of pulling at your heart, of making you feel like you belonged in a way you hadn’t before. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you traced your fingertips lightly along the curve of his shoulder, marveling at how gentle and soft his skin was, almost as if it had been kissed by angels. You knew Arthur would give you an explanation for why this was not the power of god, but you knew that there was no scientific reasoning for how his skin glowed under the beams of lights so perfectly, you could thank every heavenly being you’d lay your eyes on.

“You know,” you murmured quietly, more to yourself than to him, “I used to think love had to be this grand, all-consuming thing. Something that swept you off your feet the moment you felt it. But this… this is different.” Your voice hesitated, but you pressed on, needing to say it out loud, even if he couldn’t hear you yet. “It’s softer. It’s in all the little things, like the way you smile when you’re teasing me, or how you’re always there when I need you, even when I don’t realise it. It’s been there all along, hasn’t it? I was just too scared to see it.”

Arthur shifted slightly, his face pressing against your chest, and you felt your heart swell again, almost painfully so. A shaky breath escaped you as your hand came to rest against his back, pulling him even closer. You wanted to freeze this moment, to hold onto it forever, because for the first time, you weren’t running from how you felt.

“Arthur,” you whispered, your voice breaking just slightly. “I don’t think I could ever stop loving you. Even if I tried. Even if I wanted to.”

You closed your eyes again, resting your cheek against the top of his head, letting his presence fill every empty space in you. The future still felt uncertain, and part of you knew there would be challenges ahead, but for now, none of that mattered. All that mattered was the way he fit against you, as if he’d always belonged there.

And maybe, you thought as sleep began to claim you, he always had.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

The End.

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author note: THANK YOU SO SO SO SO MUCH FOR READING MY FIC !! i love you all so so so so much and as a thank you i will be posting many christmas themed fics soon !! if you have any requests that i have not answered that you want posting id love to write them now i have finished this. THANK YOU FOR READING !! let me know if you liked it <333

my lovely taglist:

@rubyskies @rkaya @pookietv @rougetv @arthurhillmastermind @fatneek444 @pretendyoucantseeme @neivivenaj @mmilllll @asmoothoperator

[clarkeyshill]

late night talking

george clarke x fem reader

summary: george yaps whilst you try to sleep

navigation | main masterlist | masterlist

The bedroom was quiet aside from the hum of the fan that was cooling the room along side the drumming of George’s fingers on the duvet. He was sat with his back against the headboard and his knee bent, his gaze dropped down to your sleeping figure.

George gently tapped your shoulder making you stir as you tried to fight waking up, “Are you awake?” He asked through a whisper.

You murmured a ‘no’ pulling the quilt over your head trying to fall back to sleep.

George hummed turning his attention back to the ceiling as he started to drum on his knees again.

You rolled your eyes flipping over burying your head into curve of your boyfriends waist, George smiled letting his hand dropped to your hip.

As you slowly drifted back to sleep you were jolted back awake as you felt a jab into your rib, “George.” You grumbled, “go to sleep, please.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Why?”

You felt the bed wiggle indicating that he shrugged. You flopped over onto your back with a huff, “Go on then.”

George grinned reaching over you to turn the lamp on before you glanced over at him, “Imagine if there was an apocalypse,” he started, you squeezed your eyes shut pretending to imagine it making a giggle leave George’s lips, “who would you choose to be on your team?”

“How many people can I have?”

“Four people.”

“Okay,” you nodded, tapping your chin as you thought carefully, “you obviously.”

George pumped his fist in the air celebrating, “I would’ve been so offended if you didn’t pick me.”

You laughed shimmying closer to him, “And then I’d pick Liv because otherwise I’d be bored.”

A chuckle left George’s mouth as he started to play with your hair twirling it softly between his fingers, “Two more people.”

“Bach, so Liv doesn’t get lonely.” You added, thinking through your list of friends trying to decide who else you would pick, “and then I’d pick maybe…”

You hummed, “I don’t know who else I would pick.”

“Neither of the Arthur’s?” George asked curiously.

You shook your head with a laugh, “no, tv would be too analytical for me, and hill is injured and would whine the whole time.”

George let out a laugh making you smile up at him, “What about Chris?”

“Maybe,” you nodded, thinking about it for a moment, “Alright, I’d take Chris because he can cook.”

“Fair enough.”

You looked over at your boyfriend expectantly waiting for his answer, “What about you, princess?” You teased, earning a glare from your boyfriend.

“If we’re thinking in a practical sense; I’d take Reev, Harry, and Chris.” He answered, counting them out on his fingers, “But if we’re talking in a don’t care if i die way; I’d take you…”

“Yeah. brilliant, thank you.” You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest earning a laugh.

“And then I’d take Arthur Hill, Max and probably Arthur TV as well.”

You gave him a sarcastic smile, “that’s lovely.”

George laughed once again moving to lay down, “I have another question.”

You nodded turning on your side to face him, “What’s that?”

“When did you realise you wanted to be with me?” He asked, looking into your eyes adoringly noticing your cheeks darken at the question.

You shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t know.” You muttered, dropping your head down, “I always found you attractive I guess.”

“Obviously.” He joked, ticking your waist making you squirm.

“Stop,” you pushed his hand away with a laugh, “Maybe after my birthday.”

“What? This year? Honey, we’ve been together for 2 years.”

You slapped his bicep gently, “be serious will you.”

“After my 21st, we had been talking for a few months at that point, and you were chatting away to my parents and dancing with my baby sister and it just made me think of you differently.”

George smiled softly at you brushing your hair from your face, “That’s cute.” He cooed, kissing your forehead softly.

“Yeah, yeah.” You hummed, turning around so your back was pressed against his chest, “can I go back to sleep now?”

“Of course.” He smiled, kissing the crown of your head before turning off the lamp.

[whereforarthur]

Drunk and Touchy

Request: I'm obsessed with drunk touchy ChrisMD and would love some Chris fluff where he's a bit tipsy and can't keep his hands off his girl.

Pairing: ChrisMD x Gf!Reader

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 2.1k

Content Warnings:

*****

The evening air in London had a certain crispness to it, a gentle nip that reminded pedestrians of the impending winter. The street lamps flickered to life, casting a warm glow over the cobblestone streets as the city's heartbeat grew louder with the approach of the weekend. Inside a cozy pub, laughter and the clinking of glasses formed a comforting melody that melded with the aroma of roasting meat and simmering pints.

Chris, feeling the warmth of the room and the buzz from his third pint, found his hand gravitating towards Y/N's thigh. She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with a hint of amusement. "You're getting quite handsy tonight," she teased, her voice a sweet blend of English accent and playfulness.

Chris leaned in closer, his cheeks flushed from the ale. "Can't help it, love," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. "You look absolutely radiant." His fingertips danced along the fabric of her skirt, sending a shiver up her spine. She felt the heat rising to her cheeks, a mix of affection and mild embarrassment. The pub was crowded, but their corner booth felt like a private sanctuary amidst the jovial chaos.

"You're not so bad yourself," she whispered back, placing her hand over his. He grinned, the dimple in his cheek deepening. His thumb traced idle circles on the back of her hand, his gaze never leaving hers. The moment stretched out, a silent conversation that only the two of them understood.

The music grew louder as the evening progressed, the crowd's energy infectious. Chris's movements grew more exaggerated with each sip, his touch more daring. His hand slid from her thigh to her waist, his fingers looping around the fabric of her blouse. He leaned in closer still, his nose brushing against her neck as he inhaled her scent—a delicate mix of lavender and the faint tang of the city's rain.

Y/N stifled a giggle as his nose tickled her skin. She playfully swatted him away, her eyes never leaving his. "You're going to get us kicked out," she warned, though her tone was more flirtatious than serious.

Chris's eyes widened with mock innocence. "Me?" He feigned ignorance, but the twinkle in his eye gave him away. He took another sip of his beer, the foam lingering on his upper lip. Without missing a beat, he leaned in and kissed her, the coldness of the glass still on his mouth. Y/N's heart skipped a beat, her cheeks growing hotter as she leaned into the kiss, forgetting about the world outside their bubble.

Their conversation grew more hushed, the words slurring together as the drinks flowed freely. Chris's hand was a constant presence on her, moving from her waist to her hand, her knee, and back again. It was as if he was mapping her body, memorizing every curve and line. The warmth of his palm against her skin was comforting, a gentle reminder that she was loved and desired.

Yet, as the night grew later, the touches grew more intense. His hand slid up her thigh, his thumb grazing the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. She shifted in her seat, trying to ignore the way her body responded. But it was difficult when every nerve ending felt heightened, when every touch was electric.

Her eyes searched his, looking for a sign that he knew what he was doing. His gaze was hazy, a mix of love and lust that made her stomach flutter. He leaned in again, whispering sweet nothings into her ear that sounded like poetry in his drunken state.

Finally, with the last call echoing through the pub, they stumbled out into the cool night air. The cobblestone streets felt unsteady under their feet, the laughter of the city seeming to swirl around them like a fog. Chris's words grew more nonsensical with each step they took, his voice slurring as he spoke of distant lands and impossible dreams. Y/N couldn't help but laugh, her own head feeling lighter than air.

"And then, I fought a dragon, right?" he said, his eyes wide with a drunken conviction that made her smile. "It was this big," he gestured wildly with his arms, nearly knocking over a nearby trash bin. "And it had the most fabulous beard. Just like Gandalf's, but with glitter."

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, her own cheeks flushed from the cold and the drinks. "Chris, you're ridiculous."

He leaned into her, his hand sliding down to her hip as they meandered through the narrow alleyways. "But it's true, I swear! The dragon had the most beautiful singing voice, too. Like an angel, it was."

Y/N couldn't help but chuckle, the sound echoing in the empty streets. "I'm sure it did, love." She tightened her grip on his arm, guiding him gently as he weaved from side to side. The touchy-feely side of Chris was something she adored, but she knew they needed to get home before he said something truly embarrassing to a passerby.

He paused, looking down at her with a seriousness that was almost comical. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me." His words were thick with feeling, the alcohol loosening his tongue.

"Chris, you say that every night," she replied with a smirk, though she knew he meant it every time. His touch grew more insistent, his hand sliding up to her neck as he leaned in for a kiss. His breath was warm and faintly minty from the chewing gum he'd popped into his mouth, a pitiful attempt to hide the beer. She kissed him back, her hand coming up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath the fabric of his shirt.

As they stumbled along, he couldn't help but run his fingers through her hair, playing with the strands that had escaped her loose bun. "It's like a waterfall," he murmured, his eyes half-closed in awe. "A golden waterfall." Y/N giggled, the sound a soft melody in the quiet night. She knew he was drunk, but she liked this side of him, the one that was unfiltered and open.

Chris's hand found its way to her lower back, his thumb brushing the small of it in slow, lazy circles. "You're so bloody beautiful," he whispered, his eyes searching hers. "Do you know that?" His words were a gentle caress, and she felt a warmth spread through her chest. She leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder as they continued their tipsy journey home.

He continued to ramble on about her, his voice a warm buzz in her ear. "Your eyes, love, they're like the stars. And your smile, it lights up the whole room. It's like… it's like a secret language that only I can understand." His hand traveled up to her cheek, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. "And your laugh, oh, it's like music. I could listen to it forever."

Y/N's heart swelled with affection. She knew he was tipsy, but his words were like a balm to her soul. "You're not so bad yourself, Chris," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. His touch grew more gentle, his thumb sliding to her lower lip. "You make me feel like the most important person in the world."

He leaned in closer, his eyes searching hers. "You are, Y/N. You really are." His voice was low and earnest, the alcohol-induced haze doing little to diminish the intensity of his gaze. He kissed her again, his hand sliding around to the back of her neck, holding her in place as if afraid she might vanish if he let go. The kiss was deep, his tongue brushing against hers with a hunger that made her knees weak.

Y/N pulled away slightly, her breath hitching. "Chris," she admonished, though her voice was laced with affection. "We're in the middle of the street."

He grinned, unrepentant. "So what if we are?" His hand trailed down her arm, his fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of her wrist. "I just want to touch you everywhere, love. You're like a masterpiece I can't get enough of."

Her cheeks burned, a delightful blend of embarrassment and pleasure. She tried to shrug him off playfully, but his grip was firm, his eyes never leaving hers. "Chris," she said, her voice a gentle scold. "People are going to stare."

But Chris was lost in his drunken admiration, his gaze roving over her features as if discovering them for the first time. "Let 'em," he murmured, his breath warm and sweet against her skin. "They're just jealous. They don't have someone as amazing as you." His hand slid down her arm, his fingertips grazing her elbow before resting at her waist.

Y/N couldn't help but feel a thrill at his words, even as she rolled her eyes. "You're such a flirt," she said, though her voice held a smile. "But we really should get home before you start serenading me in the middle of the street."

Chris's grin grew wider. "Oh, I've got plenty of songs for you," he began to croon, his voice off-key and wobbly with drink. She laughed, cutting him off with a kiss that was more gentle than passionate, but filled with all the love and affection she felt for him. When they broke apart, she took his hand firmly in hers and began to lead him towards their flat, her stride steady despite her own tipsiness.

The walk home was a blur of warm touches and whispered sweet nothings, his hand never straying far from her body. She felt cherished and desired, the cool London air a stark contrast to the warmth that emanated from him. They stopped every few steps for a kiss, their laughter echoing through the empty streets. It was a night she knew she'd remember forever, a perfect blend of love and laughter, of stumbling and fumbling.

When they finally reached their flat, Chris fumbled with the keys, his deftness lost to the whispers of ale. Y/N took them from him, her own hands shaking slightly from the cold and anticipation. She unlocked the door and ushered him inside, his hand never leaving hers. The warmth of the flat wrapped around them like a blanket, a stark contrast to the chilly night outside.

Chris leaned against the wall, his eyes never leaving hers. "You know what, Y/N?" His voice was a soft murmur, the room spinning slightly around them. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me."

Y/N couldn't help but smile, her cheeks feeling hot. "You're pretty wonderful yourself," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She stepped closer, her hands reaching up to cup his face. His stubble was rough against her palms, a stark contrast to the softness of his skin.

Chris leaned into her touch, his eyes closing briefly. "But you, love," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "you're like a miracle. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Y/N's heart swelled, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "You're a handful when you're like this," she said, her voice a mix of fondness and exasperation. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."

Chris's eyes snapped open, a spark of understanding lighting them up. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her cheek. "I'm a handful, am I?" His voice was a playful growl, his hand sliding around her waist to pull her closer.

Y/N giggled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Always," she said, her voice a sweet challenge. "But that's what makes you… you."

Chris's grin grew, his eyes never leaving hers. He leaned in, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was both fiery and gentle, his hand sliding down to the small of her back. The warmth of his touch seeped through her clothes, setting her skin alight with goosebumps. He was indeed a handful, but she wouldn't have it any other way. His passion, his love, his unfiltered honesty—it was all part of what made him so utterly irresistible.

The kiss grew deeper, their bodies pressed together in the hallway of their cozy London flat. Y/N could feel the thud of his heart against her chest, the steady rhythm matching her own racing pulse. His hands roamed over her, exploring every inch of her with a tenderness that made her melt into him. The room spun around them, but she didn't care. In that moment, all she knew was the warmth of his embrace and the sweet taste of his lips.

*****

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