#george clarke prompts

[live-laugh-lenney]

temptation | george clarkey

summary; george misses his girlfriend, yn, so the sidemen bring her in during his time on 'inside'... but her visit comes at a cost.

word count; 4.2k

** warnings; slight mention of sex but just some sickening fluff. **

'inside' really re-ignited my love for george, not that i didn't love him enough already, so thank you for that, sidemen. in a real funk for him so this is a little something to bring both my feels and the beauty of george on 'inside' together! let me know what you think. enjoy! x

“Whatever you do, just resist whatever they throw at you.”

“I mean, I don’t really think I should be taking spending advice from the one guy spending the most of our prize money in here,” George taunted playfully, a guilty look spreading across PK’s face that soon broke apart with a cheeky grin before his hands came up in a surrender, acting like the innocent man he was portraying to the cameras yet those around him could just about see right through him, “but that was the plan, my man.”

George shot a playful finger gun in PK’s direction with a wink following suit before he disappeared around the corner of the fake living room, all put together in a studio for the sake of the show, and away from the chatter and the laughter coming from the other housemates. Their conversations becoming distant, almost inaudible mumbles, as he rounded the corner to the Temptation Room and awaited the fate of his next decision. His thoughts raced through his mind because he wasn’t sure what his plan was. 

He’d seen the temptation that Whitney had faced, knowing it was one she definitely couldn’t resist,  and he’d seen the temptation Jason had accepted, just a day prior to his own moment in the temptation room, that had been something he was passionate about happening. 

George really didn’t want to follow suit.

He wanted to resist. 

He was going to resist…

… or that’s what he told himself.

He told himself to be strong and to remember that whatever they were going to put before him, he could probably have once he’d left the show. He told himself to ignore what the Sidemen were about to put before him because he knew they were doing it for the content of the show. Yet he had a gut-feeling it was going to be something difficult for him not to be tempted by, and they knew what his weaknesses were, telling himself to think about how the prize pot would be worth splitting if he chose to resist, if he ever had the chance of becoming a finalist.

“Welcome to the Temptation Room, George,” Vik’s voice echoed around the empty room, catching George’s attention as his eyes dodge where the cameras were placed, looking anywhere but the lenses that were filming his every move because he knew he was going to be sussed out, “if you take a look to your left, there’s another door. Resting on top of the doorframe, above your head, is a card which has your temptation in. If you could reach for it and read it out loud.”

“Yes, Vikstar.”

And he did as he was told.

“In the room before you-” George started reading but he caught a glimpse at what was next to come on the card and his words, as well as his breath, caught in his throat, “shut up, you’re joking me?”

“If you could finish what’s written on the card,” Vik warned him gently but there was a hint of a smile in the words that came through the speaker, “please, George.”

“In the room before you is your girlfriend, YN. For thirty thousand pounds of the prize money, you can spend half an hour with her. Do you accept your temptation, George?” He read from the card and he could feel his heart pumping sporadically in his chest, his hands trembling and his legs turning into jelly as he stood before the door, knowing just who was on the other side. “This is a new low, Sidemen.”

“We know you miss her, George. We’ve heard you speak of her a lot whilst you’ve been in here so it wouldn’t be so bad if you accepted it,” Vik said with a hint of mischievous and cheekiness in his tone and George groaned exasperatedly, rolling his head back and letting go of the card, completely dismissing it as it floated to the floor and landed by his feet, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes out of frustration, “she’s made it very clear to us how much she misses you, too.”

“But the final is only a couple of days away and I swore I wouldn’t take this temptation so we could keep the money. The guys back in the house, they thought I was the strongest member who wouldn’t get tempted,” he said, almost as a reminder to himself as he spoke aloud his thoughts, “but, God, I do miss her though. A whole lot. We spend almost every single day together so it’s strange for her not to be in bed when I wake up in the mornings or walking around telling me stupid jokes in the silence. Instead, we have KSI’s hollering to get us out of bed.”

There’s no response to him - part of him wanted Vik to give him some guidance but he knew that was a long shot - and he frowned.

He wanted nothing more than to accept.

When he woke up in the morning, he thought of her routine. Not that he knew the time but he checked off a list that he thought she’d have done by then; made the bed, ate her breakfast, got herself showered and dressed for the day, watched what she missed on television before she started her work day. He thought about what she might have had for lunch, what she might have been planning for dinner, who she was out and about with as she passed the time and filled the void of him not being there.

He missed her small daily updates as she informed him what she was up to. Silly pictures to accompany her tasks, updating him on how she’d bumped into Arthur unexpectedly for lunch or went out for an impromptu pint with Chris because she’d seen him out and about, expressing how she couldn’t wait to come home and have him all to herself because that feeling was always matched and he was never ashamed to tell her how he wanted to a night in with her.  

When he went to bed at night, all he could think about was YN. Wondering what she was up to, whether she was asleep or scrolling through TikTok because she couldn’t drift off, knowing she would be frustrated at herself because she liked to be up early so she could plan out her day. He wondered whether she was thinking about him like he was thinking about her, wondering if he was okay like he was wondering if she was okay, wondering if she missed his cuddles and how she wanted nothing more than to be curled up by his side which was a feeling he missed a lot.

His routine had changed, not that he had much of a routine to follow, and having a YN-shaped hole in his life for that week was tough for him to deal with.

“Your radio silence makes this so much easier for me,” George grumbled sarcastically, sitting himself down on the floor and resting his back against the wall beside the door, “I don’t want to spend money because I haven’t spent a lot of money but because I haven’t spent much money in here, it almost feels like it’d be acceptable for me to go ahead and agree.”

He sighed with slight aggravation because the decision that he needed to make had the cogs in his mind working overtime.

“I’m surrounded by strangers here and as nice as they are and as great a conversation they hold, and it’s been nice getting to know them but no-one beats YN and that’s why I’m so stuck. I want some normalcy and the feeling of home, just to feel like I’m in my safe space,” George argued with himself, the back of his head colliding with the wall behind him, “I know she’s in there and I know she would say we only have two days left before we see each other and that it would be a waste this far into the week.”

“What’s your answer, George?”

“I need a moment,” he admitted and, for the first time, he looks into the camera lens and it’s evident he’s torn up over both sides of the decision that he needed to make. His eyebrows are pinched together on his browline, his cheeks are a rosy-pink colour from how heated he was making himself feel over his thoughts, his eyes full of desire to see her yet his mind was telling him a whole something different, “I think-”

He cuts himself off and there’s a smile that twitches his lips.“I think you might want to turn off the cameras because I’ve really missed her and I might not be able to hold back,” he said with cheekiness in every word that rolled off his tongue, “I want to see YN. I need to see her.”

“I accept the temptation, Sidemen,” he said with slight trepidation to the sentence; he was really about to see the one person he’d been craving to see for the last few days and he felt… nervous. Of course he felt nervous. Because he didn’t know how the rest of the house would react to him spending 30k on seeing someone he had a possibility of seeing as soon as the next elimination rolled around but, at the same time and almost blurring the lines between the two, there were excited nerves that were fluttering around his insides because it was his girlfriend he was about to see. “Let me see her, please.”

The lock of the door clicked beside him and it caught his attention from where he was still situated on the floor, a creak soon following as it opened, and he saw her trainers before he saw the rest of her. The Adidas Campus trainers that were coloured an off-white cream and a deep-green, that he always took the mickey out of because the laces were so chunky and made her feet look tiny compared to his own, were matched with baggy jeans and a white t-shirt fitted to her frame that was paired with one of his zip-up hoodies that seemed to swallow her up… yet she still looked comfortable and cosy. And seeing her face was all it took for him to feel all of his emotions flooding through him.

“Are you going to get up and hug me or what?” She wondered and he scoffed out a gentle laugh, his eyes glossing over and he refused to let his tears spill because he didn’t want to be deemed an emotional wreck all over Twitter when the show came out on Netflix, “come on, you silly billy.”

She held her hands out and he took them, without hesitation, pulling himself to his feet and wasting no time in wrapping his arms around her and holding her close to his body, her head slotting nicely underneath his chin, her arms linking around his waist as she gave him a squeeze that the both of them seemed to need in that moment. The first ounce of true happiness he’d felt in five days, the desired touch of the one person he wanted around, breathing in the scent of her perfume. His stresses from the previous few days, and the knowledge of him being on a television show that kept him away for a week, seemed to disappear and, in that moment, it was just the two of them.

In their own little bubble.

And they stood like that for a good few minutes.

Neither one of them wanted to break the silence that surrounded them as they stood together, arms wrapped around each other as they swayed from side to side in the baron room, their rhythmic breathing being the only thing that seemed to fill it. 

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered into her ear, a tickling sensation coursing down her neck from where his facial hair brushed over her skin. In the five days he’d been unable to groom himself, it had gotten a lot longer than she was used to (not that she was complaining - if someone asked her how she felt, a complaint would be the furthest thing from what she would say, if she was being honest), sending goosebumps down her arms and a shiver down her spine, “so much.”

“I’ve definitely missed you more,” she giggled sweetly and she reluctantly pulled away from him, loosening her arms around his middle and bringing her hands to cup his cheeks in her palms, “the boys have been driving me crazy, you know? They let me stay for the week whilst you’re not there and I have no idea how you put up with them.”

“You learn to drown them out,” he said and tilted his head to the side and into the gentle touch caressing one of his cheeks, “but I’m glad you’ve had some company this week. Even if they are annoying, they mean well.”

“I think they miss you a lot, too,” she informed him, “Chris has been coming to me for advice like he would go to you for. But I don’t know if I can give good advice as someone that isn’t a bloke.”

“Anything can be better than what I tell him,” George snickered and she rolled her eyes, “seriously. You think I tell him what he should do? He goes and does the opposite of what we say, anyway.”

He wrapped his hands around her wrists, pulling them from his face and along with him as he went back to the place he was sitting when she entered the room, the both of them sliding down the wall as they sat beside each other. He bent his knees up, resting his elbows on them and stretching his forearms out, whilst YN stretched out her legs and placed her hands in her lap.

“How are you finding this whole thing?”

“Not as hard as I thought I would,” George said and YN nodded softly as he spoke, a warm smile on her lips as she listened to him tell her everything he wanted to get off his chest, “but I think I’m just struggling to feel a part of something here. Everyone has someone they can go to, like a small group, when things get a bit difficult or when something happens so I just feel like I’m stuck in the middle. I’m friends with everyone here now which I think is helping me but,” he shook his head in denial, “I don’t know how the hell I’m still here. These guys have so much more going for them than me. They’re louder than me, have more of a personality, are definitely going to be shown a lot more than me so I have no idea what the hell I’m still here for.”

“You deserve your place here,” she clarified, “you must be doing something right if you’re two days away from the final day.”

“There are moments during the elimination rounds where I wish it wouldn’t play into my favour but I can’t seem to fail on purpose. I’m so thankful to be here and grateful that the Sidemen asked me to be here but, at the same time, I want to come home. I want to be back where I feel comfortable, in my own bed and my own flat, with my idiot friends and lovely you,” he looked at her and slotted his fingers through hers, holding her hand tightly, “I want to be back with you. I hate not walking into a room and not seeing you sitting on the sofa or waking up next to you in bed and watching you sleep or hearing you sing in the shower or see you making me some breakfast in the mornings, even if it is just some scrambled eggs on toast.”

“It’s not long and we’ll be back doing those small things you love,” she reminded him and her thumb rubbed across his knuckles in a soothing manner, “I can’t wait to watch you on Netflix either. I can’t wait to tell people all over the place that my boyfriend is a Netflix star.”

“A Netflix star may be a bit of a stretch,” he laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners, “you’ve not told anyone, have you?”

She shook her head.

“I know you and how bad you are at keeping secrets,” he teased and nudged an elbow into her side, and she rolled her eyes in response to him, “reckon I could smuggle you back in there? I don’t think they’ll notice if I sneak you in under my jumper and hide you in my bed.”

“Oh, I reckon they would,” she laughed and he groaned at her answer, rolling his head back and letting it collide softly with the wall, “I was really hoping you wouldn’t accept your temptation, you know?”

“Why?”

“Because it means saying goodbye to you again,” she said, turning on the spot and she sat herself upright so she was facing him, her vision looking down at her lap as her fingers played with the digits on his hands to distract her mind from thinking about the half an hour that was passing too quickly, “I hated it the first time so this one sucks even more.”

It was a night she couldn’t forget, still fresh on her mind, and she could feel the heartache so vividly. As if every time she thought about it, she was reliving that morning.

The morning started off early but slow. They woke up hours before they needed to so they could squeeze in a cuddle in bed, which soon turned into the slowest sex they could make that allowed them to drink in every single emotion in every single moment, holding each other close as if they would disappear if they let go. They showered together, they got ready together, all whilst shedding a few unwarranted tears as they prepared themselves to spend a week without any form of contact. They stretched out breakfast-time which consisted of quick goodbye sex on the counter as they waited for their food to cook and, by the time mid-morning had come by, they’d already squeezed in enough time together to feel satisfied in how they parted ways. His suitcase packed for the week and stood upright at the front door beside his shoes as well as the jacket he was going to wear for his entrance, the two of them holding each other as they whispered their goodbyes to each other.

A morning she was going to need them to relive once he was home so the memory had a positive connection. 

“I needed to see you though. As much as I hate saying goodbye, too, I just needed a little boost before the end.”

“I would have done the same though,” she admitted, shrugging nonchalantly and looking up at him, “you have such a strong hold on me, George Clarke.”

“As do you, YN YLN,” he repeated in the same manner, “I couldn’t not say yes knowing you were on the other side of the door. So close to me. I wasn’t going to let the opportunity of holding you and having you next to me pass me by. Some of these guys have accepted theirs and they’ve spent so much more than me through the week. I feel it was an okay choice to make.”

“Spoilers,” she warned him, pointing an accusing finger at him before covering her ears in protest to hearing anything else that she was going to watch in the show when it aired, “don’t tell me anything else, mister.”

Before they knew it, as if no time had passed at all, it was soon time for them to say their goodbyes. 

George could feel it in the pit of his stomach, heavy and twisting up into knots that made him feel sick, knowing that it was soon approaching the half an hour mark and he hated how quickly it seemed to go. And YN could feel her emotions building up, with an ache in her throat that made it hard to swallow and a feeling of dread coursing through her that made her feel tense and sad, trying not to look at him in fear that she would crumble on camera.

The door that she had entered opened again and they took that as their cue to stand back to their feet.

“What’s stopping me from walking out with you?” 

“You’d be an idiot to do that,” she laughed softly, shaking her head at his bizarre proposition, “you’ve got this far so you need to see this through till the end, you donut.”

His fingers connected with hers, keeping a tight grip on her as if she would walk out that door and never be seen by him again, and his thumbs stroked across the back of her hands. She could feel the shaking of his limbs from the disdain of having to see her walk out and disappear behind the door, and it was enough to bring tears to her eyes. 

“I love you,” she smiled sweetly, contradicting the tears that had threatened her eyes and had slowly started to dribble down her cheek, “forty-eight hours and you’ll be back with me.”

“It could be less,” he reminded her, bringing his hands up to wipe away the tears away from her cheeks with his thumbs, “I could see you tomorrow.”

“Be optimistic, mister. You’re going to that final,” she says, leaning up on her toes and pressing a kiss to his cheek and she allowed her lips to linger a little longer against the soft curve of his cheek, “I would give you a great big smacker on the lips but Netflix might have to change the rating of the show because I don’t think I can control myself.”

He smirked at her and he could feel the heat rising to his cheeks.

“Yeah, we best not do anything too risqué. We’ll save that for the privacy of the bedroom,” he whispered with an almost growling tone, “I love you.”

“George, YN. I’m afraid your time together is up.”

“Yes, thank you, Vikstar. You don’t need to remind us,” George grumbled to the camera and, as saddened as she was, she giggled at his attitude to the voice that echoed around the room, “I guess this is it.”

“Sadly,” she pouted and neither one of them could take their eyes off each other, “someone’s going to have to pry me away from you, I think. I can’t bring myself to step away.”

“Go on,” he mumbled dejectedly, his eyebrows pinching together, “forty-eight hours to go.”

“I’ll see you on the other side,” she grins, pulling her hands away from his at an agonisingly slow speed, “good luck. I love you.”

“I love you more,” he watches as she steps towards the door. 

Deep down, she didn’t want to turn around to look at him and, truthfully, George didn’t think he could handle it if she took one last look at him; he was okay with watching the back of her as she disappeared around the door and, as it slowly closed behind her, he felt his heart plummet to the floor.

As he stepped foot back into the small bubble of Inside, he felt sad yet he seemed to find a new found excitement to finish the show. That one half an hour with her being a pick-me-up, giving him a new lease of happiness, and he was determined to finish. The quicker the time went, the sooner he’d be back with her. The laughter and distant chatter seemed to get closer as he rounded the corner and ascended up the three stairs back into the main area, poking his head around the corner and looking into the room, a timid smile on his lips.

“You didn’t get locked in the room then,” Jason teased as George fell to the sofa and slouched down into the cushions with a grumpy expression on his face, “what was it? What happened?”

“Uhm,” he coughed into his fist to clear his throat, as well as to drag out the moment for dramatic anticipation for those around him and for those who would be watching when it was released to the world, “so, they uh- they tempted me with YN.”

“Oh, no way! Your girlfriend?”

“Yeah,” George nodded, “I couldn’t resist saying no so I took it. I had to see her. I needed to see her.”

“I think I’d have done the same if it was my partner,” Milli-Jo said, sitting beside George and resting her hand on his shoulder and rubbing it soothingly, “I don’t think anyone is going to be crazy mad at you for giving in. It happened last season, it was bound to happen this season. We should have seen it coming, truthfully.”

“I think I just needed to feel a sense of home. My normal life,” he admitted, guilt soaring through his veins at how the entirety of the room was watching him as he explained his reasoning, “she gets me through a lot, always has done since I’ve known her, so there was no way I was passing the opportunity. I thought about it but,” he shrugged, “I don’t think I’d have been happy walking out of that room if I turned it down.”

[insomniac4000]

7 with George or Arthur Hill please

Try to eat- George Clarke

It took you a little while to muster up the courage to take the pregnancy test in the first place. You were at least a week late when you opened the package, hands shaking slightly. You weren't so sure why you were so nervous you and George had been in a stable relationship for just over two years and the pair of you had started to have conversations about your future.

"Oh sweet Jesus," was your response when you saw the word pregnant pop up almost straight away. When you showed George the little white stick his response was a wide smile and the words "wow this is amazing."

You were both nervous, your lives were about to change but it hit you first and hit you hard.

The morning sickness had hit you like a truck, you went from wondering when you would feel pregnant to visiting the toilet at least three times in the morning.

George was there every step of the way, he held you hair back, he rubbed your back, gave you water, helped you back in bed. His helpfulness then turned into a lot of concern as he saw you get sicker and sicker, the fatigue now also coming over you in waves.

"How you feeling?" George asked, a supportive hand on your arm after he had returned home from filming.

"Awful." You replied, your voice was hoarse from being sick so much. You looked clammy, a little grey, you knew you looked an absolute state but George still looked at you adoringly, if not very worried.

"Have you had anything to eat today?" George asked and you shook your head a little, even that small movement made the nausea worse.

"Try eat something," George suggested as he started to run his hands through your hair.

"Every time I do it doesn't stay long," you protested. George frowned.

"I'm no expert but this can't be normal, maybe we should go to see a doctor?" He suggested. You weren't sure what to do for the best, you knew this was a part of pregnancy but on the other hand it did seem excessive and you felt terrible, of course you were also really worried if you weren't eating properly would the baby grow? It all became too much and the second a few tears rolled down your face George wasted no time in climbing next to you and within seconds you were enveloped in his strong arms, your head leaning on his chest.

"If I could take it all away from you and swap I would," he soothed, you whispered a small thank you.

"Plus think about how big my arse would get," he joked and you giggled, he always knew how to make you feel better.

The following day he sat with you in the doctor's office holding your hand, you were relieved to be told it was just a bad case of morning sickness and were reassured the baby would be fine plus were given some anti sickness tablets. With a plan of of course George by your side, you would get through it.

[clemswinecorner]

Getting caught 4+1 - [Arthur Frederick (TV)]

Summary: Getting caught 4 + 1 (or, 4 times Arthur an Y/N almost accidentally revealed their relationship, and the one time they did)

Wordcount: 4.2k

Warnings: sexual innuendos and alcohol, other than that it's fine

Not based on but the first part was inspired by this arthur fic! As well as prompts from the amazing @creativepromptsforwritinghttps that I always love <33 It's a bit of a longer one so sit down and enjoy, I hope you guys like this!

Main Masterlist

It was at their friends' house-warming, Chris’ initiative, when they had their first scare of getting caught.

Arthur and Y/N had been mingling around for a bit before making their relationship official a little over a month before, just days before Y/N left for a few weeks in Italy. Y/N was standing in front of their friends' house with a bottle of gin and a small plant as Chris opened the door with a smile. “Hey! How’s it going?” He asks as he hugs the twenty-four-year-old. “Good, good. Congrats on the new place, by the way, have you and the boys been settling in alright?” She asks as she makes her way inside. “Yeah, it’s different from before, but I’m getting used to it,” he admits as she hands him the gifts. “Oh, I got you some decoration, and something nice for tonight or whenever,” she explains, and he thankfully smiles. “Ah, thank you so much, that’s lovely! You can put your jacket in the closet right there.” He motions to a closet door as she takes off her jacket, which she hangs up. “I’m glad you could make it tonight, I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever! We need to plan a proper catch-up soon,” she chuckles as they make their way to the living room. “That’s what you get when you decide to be busy right when I come back from four weeks in Italy, mate. But yes, we need to arrange something. Oh, I love the posters, by the way!” 

Chris doesn’t realise why the jumper she’s wearing looks familiar until Arthur walks into the living room. “Wait, doesn’t Arthur have a hoodie just like this?” He asks, interrupting their chat about beers. Her eyes grow a little wide as she looks down at the hoodie she’s wearing, that is clearly Arthur’s. She was in a rush before leaving, as usual, and pulled on the first hoodie she saw, thinking she wouldn’t need it indoors anyway, not considering it wouldn’t be as crowded when she arrived. “Oh, really? I just got this the other day, I had no clue! That's so funny,” she says, half a beat too late, which was just long enough for Chris not to notice. “Yeah, I mean, I guess it makes sense for you to have the same style a bit since you’re a bit alike, although your clothing isn’t that similar,” she simply shrugs, as she glances at Arthur. He was wearing a Fellas hoodie — the one she desperately took off him less than 24 hours ago. He looks her way as he’s making his way around greeting people, arriving at the couch soon enough. Chris stands up and greets him as they have a quick conversation as she stands up and straightens her skirt. “Hi, nice to see you again. How was Italy?” He asks, and she giggles as they hug. “Like you don’t know,” she whispers, making him chuckle, before she answers. Chris softly touches her shoulder, “I’m gonna go and socialise a bit, we’ll plan something proper, yeah?” She nods, “Yeah, yeah, go ahead, they’re your guests!” She exclaims. “Don’t hide and play chess, have some fun, yeah?” He pats Arthur’s back with a chuckle before moving over, making his old friend roll his eyes before turning back to his girlfriend. “We almost got caught, he rec-,” the girl stops her sentence as she notices George Clarke making his way to the pair. “Yeah, I’ll send you the name for when you go to Rome,” she mentions, as George joins them. “Hello friends! Y/N, it’s been forever, how are you doing!” She smiles as she embraces her friend, “It has been! Good, good, good, lovely place you have! How’s everything going?”

As they make conversation and drink, Arthur and Y/N keep locking eyes. She smiles shyly when he nonchalantly bites his lips, and leans against the back couch. God, that’s fucking hot. George leaves to get more drinks, as they were all about half a drink away from being tipsy, and she immediately scoots closer to her boyfriend. “We almost got caught. Chris noticed the jumper,” she quietly says, as he puts his arm on the back of the couch besides her, looking at her intensely. “Hmm, did he,” he says absent-mindedly. She glances around and stands up, her hand softly grazing his leg. “If George asks, I’m going to the bathroom. You can find me on Chris’ balcony,” she says, low enough for no-one to hear. His eyes follow her as she walks away, and he takes the last sip of his drink as she makes her way around the corner to go up the stairs. “Where’d she go?” George asks, interrupting his, admittedly not very faithful, thoughts. He coughs, “Bathroom. Thanks,” He says, accepting the drink George made him. “Ah. They’re playing Beer Pong in the kitchen, d’you wanna join?” He asks, and Arthur shakes his head. “Not today, but you can go. I’ll let Y/N know when she gets back,” he simply says, and George nods. “Alright, alright,” he simply says before leaving the twenty-eight-year-old to sit by himself. 

“Well, hello,” She turns around at Arthur’s soft voice with a smile as he closes the door to the balcony. “Hey baby. How was the meeting?” She asks, and he shrugs. “It was alright. Would’ve rather stayed in bed with you this morning, though,” his comment makes her cheeks flush red. How this man still had her feeling like a girl with a school crush was incredible, but she loved it. “You have me now,” she says, Arthur putting one hand on her wrist, the other around her waist pulling her closer. “Wish I didn’t have to share you, though,” he says when their faces are mere inches apart, pressing his lips to hers. Despite having seen each other every day since, they craved each other as much as they did when he picked her up at the airport after four weeks of not seeing each other. “Do we go back inside before us being gone becomes suspicious, or…” Arthur shakes his head, “no, I’m keeping you to myself for a little longer.”

The second time they almost get caught they were in a similar setting, though this time the party was George’s. 

It was their six months anniversary, and although they didn’t necessarily want to celebrate every single anniversary, they did tend to spend every 10th of the month together. They’d much rather be cuddled up with some comfort food with a movie on the background, simply enjoying each other’s company and chats — instead, they found themselves chatting to friends as they’re waiting to go home tipsy. She’d asked before they left, getting ready at Arthur’s flat after ordering in. “Are you actively drinking tonight?” She turns away from the mirror doing her makeup for a second to look at Arthur rummaging through his closet. “I mean, I don’t think I want to get too drunk. Maybe if we don’t make it too late we can come back here, maybe have a drink by ourselves to celebrate half a year?” You nod, “Yeah, sounds perfect. Just a few drinks, I would like to get to enjoy you tonight,” she smirks, and he sends her a smile through the mirror. “Oh! Before you get dressed, I got you something,” he realises, quickly getting out of his room. He returns with a pink and white striped bag, “just something small,” he says, a bit flushed. She looks up at him before she takes out the wrapped present, and looks at him with a sly smile, “Ohhh this is exactly the right colour. Oh my god that’s so nice,” She smiles as she takes out the lingerie, and looks at him nervously smiling. “Is it good? I didn’t know if you’d like the model,” She nods, “yeah, yeah. It’s so beautiful,” she says, moving towards him. “Suits you,” he whispers as he grabs her hips. She chuckles, putting her arms around his shoulders. “Thank you,” she says, giving him a kiss. “I was going to take you out to dinner today, but you know… We’ll do that somewhere this week.” 

She's simply chatting with George, pulling down her shirt to show her tan they were talking about. “Wait, did you get that bra from Arthur?” He chuckles, and her eyes go wide. “What? Why’d you think that?” She asks confused. “I swear he bought something in the colour just like that, he said his sister needed it to be picked up in London so he picked it up for her,” She quickly shakes her head in denial. “No, I got this for Christmas last year. Don’t know why Arthur would give me it,” She explains, and he looks at over at him and back at her. “Hmm, I don’t know, either,” he says suspiciously, taking another sip of his drink before she swiftly changes the conversation topic. “Oh, I saw you did the Sidemen video we were talking about before I left, how was it?”

Y/N nudges Arthur as she sits down next to him on the couch, “Want to explain why George knew about the bra?” She asks. He looks up from his phone in surprise, “What?!” He asks, and she giggles. “He said, and I quote, ‘Did you get that bra from Arthur?’, because you bought it when he was there,” She explains, and he chuckles. “Yeah, I did buy it when he was there. Wait, no, actually, why did he even see it?!” He asks in surprise. “We were talking about tanning and I showed him my tan line, so he saw the bra strap,” Arthur nods suspiciously at the explanation. “Uh-huh. Well, I won’t buy it when George is there next time. And you shouldn’t show him your bra!” She jokingly rolls her eyes, “I wasn’t just showing my bra!” Arthur laughs at her reaction and looks back at her with a smile. “Hmm. Well, I do want to see it. Should we go?” She looks down at the time. They’d been here for about three and a half hours, and it seemed socially acceptable to leave. “Yeah. I’ll grab my bag, and we go say goodbye.”

The third time, was the closest it ever got, at the Sidemen anniversary party.

They were glad it wasn’t someone already suspecting something, because if it was the couple definitely would’ve been found out. It wasn’t even a special evening to them, they’d already spend the entire week together and wanted to treat it as a casual night out with friends. It was going to be a fun occasion to get drunk, but Arthur knew that idea was thrown out the window when he saw her in a casual-chic black dress that suited her way too perfectly. He was glad the other boys weren’t there yet when he arrived at her place, where the group had agreed to meet, because he was just too stunned to speak. He was wearing a matching black shirt, with some casual white pants underneath. God, he looked insanely hot in it, and Y/N couldn’t help but voice the thought the second he took off his jacket. The rolled up sleeves, the two top buttons open, the little bit of chest — this outfit was really doing it for her. The same could be said about Arthur, who couldn’t keep himself away from her, constantly whispering compliments, touching her dress or staring at her. It was a dangerous game they were playing that evening, and they knew it all too well.

The party was very much going when they both had to use the bathroom, and they walked through the crowd holding hands. The bathrooms were not in the view from the dance floor, in a seemingly deserted hallway. So when Y/N had come back from the bathroom to Arthur just standing there, on his phone, she couldn’t resist. He looks up at the sound of her walking over, “You look so god-damn handsome,” she expresses, fixing his collar. “You look just as beautiful,” he says, softly grabbing her waist. He shamelessly scans her body for the umpteenth time that evening, and she simply looks at him, grinning. She gets closer to his face, making him gulp. “We make a hot looking couple, don’t we?” She questions, and he nods in response. “We sure do,” he lowly whispers, feeling her breath. Unable to resist any longer, he pulls her closer, pressing his lips on hers. The entire evening full of tension waiting to be released was felt as they passionately kissed each other. All they want is to pull each other as close as physically possible, only pausing to take a quick breath. Arthur has just turned them around, pressing her against the wall as a form of support, when they hear a cough. “Oh, sorry guys, sorry, sorry!” She gasps as she hears Harry’s voice, moving away from Arthur the second she hears the door lock. “Oh my god,” she says, and she looks at Arthur, who seems a bit stunned. “I forgot this wasn’t just an abandoned hallway, oh my god. Should I go in to like, talk to him?” She bites her lip as she fixes her dress. “Hmm, don’t bring it up, and if he didn’t recognise you, you didn’t see a thing. If he did see you, act like I’m a random influencer. And in the worst case scenario that he saw me too… He’ll keep quiet. I hope.” Lucky for them, all Harry asked Arthur is if he also saw a couple making out in the hallway, to which he said no. 

The fourth time was perfectly avoidable, if they hadn't been in the same room.

Sharing a room during the friend group skiing trip was a bad idea. They knew that. But George and Chris were sharing a room, and Harry and Will were, it was a logical thing. It would be, at least, if Y/N hadn’t always been the one to get the room for one, being the only girl or non-girlfriend. But they’d been careful, and all the previous close calls were long enough ago that it wouldn’t look suspicious. Right?

Arthur and Y/N had gone back to the lodge directly after dinner, tired from the long day of snowboarding after a late night filled with drinking games. They took a nice long shower in their en-suite bathroom — realistically their only time together without the lingering thought of one of their friends being able to hear. Whilst the rest was still partying in one of the ski huts, they decided to crawl into bed, watching a movie. They figured their friends would be back late enough for them to have gone to bed, so it wasn’t a surprise that they were already asleep when their friends got back. They’d come back around 11PM, surprised to find the living room area abandoned. “Have they gone to bed already?” Will asks, and Harry simply shrugs. “Y/N especially was pretty tired, I wouldn’t be surprised,” George expresses, and the rest of the boys agree. “Yeah, but Arthur too?” Chris simply shrugs, too tired to care. “You can go check on them, if you’re worried, but they’ll probably just show up by the morning either way,” Harry says, sitting down on the couch. “Hmm. I’m going to change, I’ll just check and see if they’re not kidnapped, or doing something I don’t want to see,” he jokes, making the other boys chuckle. Since they’d confirmed the rooms together, there’d been an ongoing joke about how long it would take for them to get off together— oblivious to how long they’d been doing that already. “For your own wellbeing, knock,” Chris calls after him, as the northerner walks up the stairs. Walking past their room, he softly knocks, not hearing any response. He opens the door and looks into the room to see the pair cuddled up, Y/N’s against Arthur’s chest and their arms intertwined. He recognises Arthur’s laptop on what looks to be Y/N’s night stand, and chuckles. Will didn’t want to assume anything, of course, so he decided not to. He quietly closes the door before walking to his own room.  “They were sleeping already, both of them,” is all he tells the other boys. 

When they finally get found out, it still comes as a shock, despite the ongoing joke.

Although Will didn’t tell anyone how he’d caught them in bed together during the skiing trip, the joke kept going. It had become the name of a group chat, they were constantly gossiping and were just waiting for the pair, who realistically didn’t show any signs of dating each other, to announce their relationship. They were so invested, that when they finally discover they were, in fact, in a relationship, it was almost like the boys were the ones that got caught. 

It was about a month after the skiing trip, and they had all gathered in Chris, George and Arthur Hill’s shared flat before a night out. Arthur and Y/N were in Chris’ bedroom getting ready, whilst the others were in the living room having drinks. “Have you noticed they keep talking about us?” He asks her, and she laughs, “Oh my god yeah. Their group chat is named Arthur&Y/N fans,” she exclaims, putting on her necklace. “It’s so funny, they really think we don’t realise they keep gossiping about us whilst they actually have no clue what’s actually going on,” he chuckles, walking over to help her out. “I know. Should we just, like, act like we’ve told them? And then watch them be confused,” she says, as he clicks the necklace together. “Thank you,” she softly expresses, and his hands move down, head leaning on her shoulder. “Ahh, yeah, that’d be hilarious. Imagine their reaction when we say we’ve been together for a year now,” he says, kissing her cheek. She giggles, looking at them in the mirror they were standing in front of. “It’s been the best year. I love you,” She turns her head to give him a kiss. “And I love you,” he says, pulling back. “Okay, we should make our way out there, or they will actually think we fucked.”

They make their way back to the living room separately, her going to the bathroom first. When she’s come back, they’re all gathered on and around the couch, playing a game of never have I ever. “Never have I ever… Kissed someone in this room on the lips,” Will says, making the group laugh. George and Arthur Hill raise their glass to each other before both taking a sip, and Chris looks up thinking. “Surely we have at some point, like, Maddie’s party?” Arthur asks Chris, reminding him of their days in Jersey. “Oh yeah, for sure,” he says laughing at the memory, the both of them taking a sip. As they discuss whether Stephen and Will’s accidental touching of lips counts, Y/N giggles, taking a sip. Only Arthur sees it, having kept an eye on her, and smirks as Will and Stephen take a sip. “Okay, next one. Drink if you’ve been on a date in the past week,” George asks, and Chris groans. “You’re targeting me,” he says, taking another sip of his drink, making George laugh. Arthur also takes a sip, making the boys look at him. “And who have you been out on a date with, Mr. Television?” He shrugs. “I went to a museum with the girl I’ve been going out with,” he simply says, not elaborating any further, even as the rest are looking at him expectantly. They all share a confused look as Y/N mumbles to herself. “Oh, was it this week? I guess it counts huh,” she takes a sip, which only Arthur Hill, sitting next to her, notices. He nudges her, “You went on a date? With who?” She nods, “Hmm. With my boyfriend,”  she casually says, and he looks at her shocked. “Your what?! Am I the last one to find out about this?“ She shakes her head, “No, one of the first. D’you need another drink?” Arthur shakes his head in confusion as she stands up and walks to the kitchen. She looks over to see most of them still had a drink. “Harry, another one?” She asks, holding up a beer bottle. “Uh yes, please,” she grabs another one, already opening it for him. She grabs one of the vodka-sprites her boyfriend was drinking, and hands him the can before handing Harry his beer and sitting back down. “I reckon we do that card game from last week and then go? Get us a bit further but doesn’t take too long,” Chris suggests, and they all agree. “Oh, I have the cards in my room, sorry, I’ll get them.”

When they’re all getting ready to leave the house, they’re all a bit more tipsy, everyone moving around grabbing their stuff. “Do you still have my keys?” Y/N asks Arthur, who’s chatting with Harry. “Oh, yeah, sorry,” he says, grabbing them from his pocket. “No, it’s fine, just wanted to be sure I hadn’t lost them. Do I need to keep yours in my bag?” She asks, and he nods, “Yes, please.” She naturally grabs his keys from his jacket, taking the typical girlfriend role of keeping his stuff. “What if you guys lose each other, and you can’t give him his keys?” Harry wonders, and they look at each other with a giggle. “We’re going home together, so we won’t leave without each other either way,” she explains, and Harry nods in understanding, but then looks between them as the implications catch up with him. Before he can say anything, they’ve both walked off doing their own things. Y/N goes to the bathroom, walking back to Arthur when she's done. “Excited to go out?” She asks, as he hands her his jacket. “Yeah, I am, it’s been a while. It’s cold out, wear it. I know you didn't bring anything and I have my hoodie,” She takes it with a sigh, “Fine. Thank you,” she says, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. She grabs his hand, and they walk to the kitchen, where most of the guys are, grabbing a drink for on the go. “Where are we going, actually?” She asks the group as she opens her canned cocktail. “We’ll be walking to Cuckoo’s and see if any of the places there are anything exciting today,” Chris says, and she nods, “cool,” before turning to her boyfriend again. “Are we going to yours then? We could just walk instead of taking an Uber to mine,” she softly asks him. His hand his on her back as he looks down at her, “Yeah, that’s fine,” he says as she leans against him, looking at all their friends chatting. “Are we actually waiting for anyone?” She thinks out loud, looking around the group. “Just George and Harry going to the bathroom, I think,” she nods as she makes her way over to the door, sitting down to put on her sneakers. Arthur gives her a hand and she stands up, quickly thanking him with a kiss. George looks around the group of guys, all too stunned to speak. “I wasn’t the only one that saw that, right?” Will shakes his head. “No, what’s going on there, mate?” He asks, whilst Arthur Hill points at the couple. “So he IS the boyfriend!” He exclaims, making the pair blush lightly. “Right, okay, well. Did you guys just start dating, or?” Chris asks curiously, and Y/N rolls her eyes. “We know you’ve bet on it, and you’ve all lost, so I reckon we get the money. Unless anyone bet on before the skiing trip?” She asks, and they all shake their heads. All the guys have similar facial expressions, a combination of shock and getting caught. Will is the first to speak up, “so, how long have you been dating, then? Because I saw you all cuddly during the skiing trip, but I didn’t want to assume,” he admits, and Arthur looks at her with a sheepish grin. He puts his arm around her pulling her closer, “Well, we’ve been together for a year, next week,” he casually says, and chaos ensues. All sorts of surprised expressions come out, mixed with words of betrayal such as “how could you do this” and excitement. “A year ago, so that’s… Wait, you weren’t together before we lived here, were you?” Chris wonders. “Well… We got together just before I went away to Milan for a month, so you were about to move in,” Y/N explains, and he nods. “Fuck, that’s a while, oh my god,” Y/N and Arthur simply laugh at all their friends’ reactions. “Wait wait wait, at the Sidemen party, when I saw those people kissing, was that actually just you?” Harry asks, and Arthur scratches his head whilst Y/N looks down in embarrassment. “Yeah, we honestly thought you saw us,” Arthur admits, cheeks turned red as Harry laughs. “Okay, enough of us, let’s go,” Y/N says, opening the door. She grabs Arthur’s hand, pulling him with her, and the rest of the guys all follow them laughing. “Don’t think this is it, we need the details!!”

[themdera]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“George…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

LONDON HEATHROW - LANDED

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

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

And then, you see him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[mostlysignssomeportents]

I assure you, an AI didn’t write a terrible “George Carlin” routine

There are only TWO MORE DAYS left in the Kickstarter for the audiobook of The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

On Hallowe'en 1974, Ronald Clark O'Bryan murdered his son with poisoned candy. He needed the insurance money, and he knew that Halloween poisonings were rampant, so he figured he'd get away with it. He was wrong:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ronald_Clark_O%27Bryan

The stories of Hallowe'en poisonings were just that – stories. No one was poisoning kids on Hallowe'en – except this monstrous murderer, who mistook rampant scare stories for truth and assumed (incorrectly) that his murder would blend in with the crowd.

Last week, the dudes behind the "comedy" podcast Dudesy released a "George Carlin" comedy special that they claimed had been created, holus bolus, by an AI trained on the comedian's routines. This was a lie. After the Carlin estate sued, the dudes admitted that they had written the (remarkably unfunny) "comedy" special:

https://arstechnica.com/ai/2024/01/george-carlins-heirs-sue-comedy-podcast-over-ai-generated-impression/

As I've written, we're nowhere near the point where an AI can do your job, but we're well past the point where your boss can be suckered into firing you and replacing you with a bot that fails at doing your job:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/15/passive-income-brainworms/#four-hour-work-week

AI systems can do some remarkable party tricks, but there's a huge difference between producing a plausible sentence and a good one. After the initial rush of astonishment, the stench of botshit becomes unmistakable:

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2024/jan/03/botshit-generative-ai-imminent-threat-democracy

Some of this botshit comes from people who are sold a bill of goods: they're convinced that they can make a George Carlin special without any human intervention and when the bot fails, they manufacture their own botshit, assuming they must be bad at prompting the AI.

This is an old technology story: I had a friend who was contracted to livestream a Canadian awards show in the earliest days of the web. They booked in multiple ISDN lines from Bell Canada and set up an impressive Mbone encoding station on the wings of the stage. Only one problem: the ISDNs flaked (this was a common problem with ISDNs!). There was no way to livecast the show.

Nevertheless, my friend's boss's ordered him to go on pretending to livestream the show. They made a big deal of it, with all kinds of cool visualizers showing the progress of this futuristic marvel, which the cameras frequently lingered on, accompanied by overheated narration from the show's hosts.

The weirdest part? The next day, my friend – and many others – heard from satisfied viewers who boasted about how amazing it had been to watch this show on their computers, rather than their TVs. Remember: there had been no stream. These people had just assumed that the problem was on their end – that they had failed to correctly install and configure the multiple browser plugins required. Not wanting to admit their technical incompetence, they instead boasted about how great the show had been. It was the Emperor's New Livestream.

Perhaps that's what happened to the Dudesy bros. But there's another possibility: maybe they were captured by their own imaginations. In "Genesis," an essay in the 2007 collection The Creationists, EL Doctorow (no relation) describes how the ancient Babylonians were so poleaxed by the strange wonder of the story they made up about the origin of the universe that they assumed that it must be true. They themselves weren't nearly imaginative enough to have come up with this super-cool tale, so God must have put it in their minds:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/29/gedankenexperimentwahn/#high-on-your-own-supply

That seems to have been what happened to the Air Force colonel who falsely claimed that a "rogue AI-powered drone" had spontaneously evolved the strategy of killing its operator as a way of clearing the obstacle to its main objective, which was killing the enemy:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/04/ayyyyyy-eyeeeee/

This never happened. It was – in the chagrined colonel's words – a "thought experiment." In other words, this guy – who is the USAF's Chief of AI Test and Operations – was so excited about his own made up story that he forgot it wasn't true and told a whole conference-room full of people that it had actually happened.

Maybe that's what happened with the George Carlinbot 3000: the Dudesy dudes fell in love with their own vision for a fully automated luxury Carlinbot and forgot that they had made it up, so they just cheated, assuming they would eventually be able to make a fully operational Battle Carlinbot.

That's basically the Theranos story: a teenaged "entrepreneur" was convinced that she was just about to produce a seemingly impossible, revolutionary diagnostic machine, so she faked its results, abetted by investors, customers and others who wanted to believe:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Theranos

The thing about stories of AI miracles is that they are peddled by both AI's boosters and its critics. For boosters, the value of these tall tales is obvious: if normies can be convinced that AI is capable of performing miracles, they'll invest in it. They'll even integrate it into their product offerings and then quietly hire legions of humans to pick up the botshit it leaves behind. These abettors can be relied upon to keep the defects in these products a secret, because they'll assume that they've committed an operator error. After all, everyone knows that AI can do anything, so if it's not performing for them, the problem must exist between the keyboard and the chair.

But this would only take AI so far. It's one thing to hear implausible stories of AI's triumph from the people invested in it – but what about when AI's critics repeat those stories? If your boss thinks an AI can do your job, and AI critics are all running around with their hair on fire, shouting about the coming AI jobpocalypse, then maybe the AI really can do your job?

https://locusmag.com/2020/07/cory-doctorow-full-employment/

There's a name for this kind of criticism: "criti-hype," coined by Lee Vinsel, who points to many reasons for its persistence, including the fact that it constitutes an "academic business-model":

https://sts-news.medium.com/youre-doing-it-wrong-notes-on-criticism-and-technology-hype-18b08b4307e5

That's four reasons for AI hype:

to win investors and customers;

to cover customers' and users' embarrassment when the AI doesn't perform;

AI dreamers so high on their own supply that they can't tell truth from fantasy;

A business-model for doomsayers who form an unholy alliance with AI companies by parroting their silliest hype in warning form.

But there's a fifth motivation for criti-hype: to simplify otherwise tedious and complex situations. As Jamie Zawinski writes, this is the motivation behind the obvious lie that the "autonomous cars" on the streets of San Francisco have no driver:

https://www.jwz.org/blog/2024/01/driverless-cars-always-have-a-driver/

GM's Cruise division was forced to shutter its SF operations after one of its "self-driving" cars dragged an injured pedestrian for 20 feet:

https://www.wired.com/story/cruise-robotaxi-self-driving-permit-revoked-california/

One of the widely discussed revelations in the wake of the incident was that Cruise employed 1.5 skilled technical remote overseers for every one of its "self-driving" cars. In other words, they had replaced a single low-waged cab driver with 1.5 higher-paid remote operators.

As Zawinski writes, SFPD is well aware that there's a human being (or more than one human being) responsible for every one of these cars – someone who is formally at fault when the cars injure people or damage property. Nevertheless, SFPD and SFMTA maintain that these cars can't be cited for moving violations because "no one is driving them."

But figuring out who which person is responsible for a moving violation is "complicated and annoying to deal with," so the fiction persists.

(Zawinski notes that even when these people are held responsible, they're a "moral crumple zone" for the company that decided to enroll whole cities in nonconsensual murderbot experiments.)

Automation hype has always involved hidden humans. The most famous of these was the "mechanical Turk" hoax: a supposed chess-playing robot that was just a puppet operated by a concealed human operator wedged awkwardly into its carapace.

This pattern repeats itself through the ages. Thomas Jefferson "replaced his slaves" with dumbwaiters – but of course, dumbwaiters don't replace slaves, they hide slaves:

https://www.stuartmcmillen.com/blog/behind-the-dumbwaiter/

The modern Mechanical Turk – a division of Amazon that employs low-waged "clickworkers," many of them overseas – modernizes the dumbwaiter by hiding low-waged workforces behind a veneer of automation. The MTurk is an abstract "cloud" of human intelligence (the tasks MTurks perform are called "HITs," which stands for "Human Intelligence Tasks").

This is such a truism that techies in India joke that "AI" stands for "absent Indians." Or, to use Jathan Sadowski's wonderful term: "Potemkin AI":

https://reallifemag.com/potemkin-ai/

This Potemkin AI is everywhere you look. When Tesla unveiled its humanoid robot Optimus, they made a big flashy show of it, promising a $20,000 automaton was just on the horizon. They failed to mention that Optimus was just a person in a robot suit:

https://www.siliconrepublic.com/machines/elon-musk-tesla-robot-optimus-ai

Likewise with the famous demo of a "full self-driving" Tesla, which turned out to be a canned fake:

https://www.reuters.com/technology/tesla-video-promoting-self-driving-was-staged-engineer-testifies-2023-01-17/

The most shocking and terrifying and enraging AI demos keep turning out to be "Just A Guy" (in Molly White's excellent parlance):

https://twitter.com/molly0xFFF/status/1751670561606971895

And yet, we keep falling for it. It's no wonder, really: criti-hype rewards so many different people in so many different ways that it truly offers something for everyone.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/29/pay-no-attention/#to-the-little-man-behind-the-curtain

Back the Kickstarter for the audiobook of The Bezzle here!

Image:

Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

--

Ross Breadmore (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/rossbreadmore/5169298162/

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

[supernotnatural2005]

I Cross My Heart

Paring: Beau Arlen x Reader

Summary: A quiet night in with your favourite Sheriff.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Mostly sickening fluff and feels.

Prompt: Cowboy Hat - Music CD - Plush Octopus

AN: Hey guys! Here is another submission for my @jacklesversebingo 24 card. This prompt was a little tricky 😅 but I feel it worked best with our favourite Sheriff! Also this is my first time dabbling into the Big Sky universe and writing for Beau, so let me know what y'all think. 👀

Main Masterlist

Bingo Masterlist

The warm summer sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the city of Helena’s sky in hues of pink and gold. Beau leaned against his truck, his cowboy hat tilted low, the silhouette of his broad frame outlined by the fading light. His rugged features were softened by the day's exhaustion, but his eyes sparkled with the same quiet intensity you had come to know and love.

You smiled from where you stood on the porch, watching him. He was a man of few words, but when he did speak, you listened. The steady presence he exuded was something you had never expected but found yourself desperately drawn to. You had learned that, despite the rough nature of his job, Beau had a gentle way about him. His calm demeanour always seemed to pull everyone back from the edge, even in the chaos of the sheriff’s office.

You still remembered the first time you met him—it was almost a year ago when you had started working as a dispatcher at Lewis and Clark's County sheriff department. You’d walked into the station, green and nervous, only to be met with Beau’s easy smile and steady reassurance. He’d taken you under his wing, showing you the ropes while keeping the atmosphere light with his humour. Over time, what began as a professional relationship bloomed into something more personal, something deeper.

And now, after a long shift, Beau was standing outside your house, looking like he’d just walked off the set of a western movie. He was a sheriff, yes, but more than that, he was your sheriff.

You leaned against the doorframe, raising an eyebrow as you called out, “You planning on staying out here all evening, or you gonna come inside?”

Beau’s lips curled into a playful smile, his gaze never leaving yours. “Depends,” he drawled, his voice warm, “You got any reason for me to come inside?”

You grinned, holding up the small music CD you had found earlier. “Maybe. I found this in the back of the truck earlier—thought you might like it.”

Beau’s eyes widened slightly as he stepped closer, clearly excited. “Is that…? Wait, is that George Strait’s ‘Pure Country’ album?” His hands reached out eagerly. “I haven’t heard this in years. Where’d you find it?”

You shrugged, walking toward him. “Just digging around. Thought it looked like something you’d enjoy.”

Beau grinned from ear to ear as he took the CD from your hands. “You’ve got a good eye, darlin’.” He turned toward the door. “You sure you don’t mind if I play it inside?”

“Not at all,” you said, a playful glint in your eyes. “I think I can handle the noise if it’s you.”

Inside, the soft light of the evening filled your living room, giving it a more cozy-vibe. Beau walked over to the stereo, placing the CD into the player, smiling in familiraity as the first few chords of "I Cross My Heart" filled the air, instantly setting a more romantic mood.

You moved into the kitchen, finishing off the dinner you'd been in the middle of preparing before Beau texted you he was coming over. Thankfully it wasn't long before the two of you sat down to a quiet, simple meal. The conversation flowed easily, the kind of relaxed chatter that comes from knowing each other so well, and you felt a warmth in your chest at how easily it all fit together.

As you finished up dinner, the song “Carried Away” started playing in the background, and Beau paused, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Man, this takes me back,” he said, almost wistfully. “Used to play this over and over in my truck back when I was just starting out. Felt like I had all the time in the world back then.”

You smiled at him, picking up on the quiet nostalgia in his tone. “What’s the song remind you of?”

He shrugged, leaning back slightly in his chair as the soft guitar strums filled the space between you. “When I was younger, I used to drive around, just thinking about all the things I wanted to do. The people I wanted to be. But now…” His voice softened, and he met your gaze, his eyes full of meaning. “Now, I just want to be here. With you.”

Your heart swelled as you reached for his hand across the table. “Beau…” you whispered, the words almost catching in your throat.

He squeezed your hand, his expression softening as the song continued to play, weaving its way into the quiet moment between the two of you, until Beau sat back in his seat, his hands finding the edge of the table as he looked at you with a playful glint in his eye. 

“You know,” he said, “I think this calls for a little something extra.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? And what might that be?”

Beau held out his hand to you, his grin widening. “A dance. It’s been a while since we’ve had one of those.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the suggestion. A pleasant reminder of your first date with him. There was something about Beau, even back then—his quiet confidence, the way he always knew how to make ordinary moments feel extraordinary—that made it feel perfect.

You took his hand without hesitation, letting him pull you to your feet and guide you to the centre of the room. George Strait's voice filled the space around you as Beau’s hand settled gently on your waist. You rested your head on his chest, the steady beat of his heart matching the rhythm of the song.

For a moment, there was only the sound of the music and the soft shuffle of your feet on the hardwood floor. Beau’s other hand gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. He didn’t need to say anything; the tenderness in his touch spoke volumes.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate, “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this at peace in a long time.”

You smiled up at him, feeling your own heart swell. “Me either.” You whispered honestly.

Beau’s eyes softened, and for a brief moment, everything else seemed to disappear. It was just the two of you in this quiet space, swaying together to the music as if nothing else mattered.

As the song wound down, Beau leaned in, his lips brushing against your forehead before he pulled back, his gaze intense. “I’ve been wanting this for a while now. Just you and me. A quiet night. Nothing else.”

Your pulse quickened as you looked up at him, the weight of his words sinking in. Though things had been going well for you for a while now, you and Beau had yet to share a night together. He was (frustratingly) ever the gentleman. You stepped a little closer, your lips barely touching as you whispered, “Then take it. I’m right here.”

The air between you grew thicker, charged with the unspoken desire that had always been there, lingering just beneath the surface. Beau’s hands slid to your back, pulling you close as he kissed you deeply, his mouth moving over yours with a slow intensity. The kiss deepened, and before you knew it, you were lost in the heat of it, the softness of his lips and the warmth of his touch sending sparks through you.

After a few moments, the two of you pulled away, breathing heavily. The tension that had been building between you finally released, and you stood there for a second, catching your breath. That was when your eyes fell on the little plush octopus that had been tucked into the corner of the couch, a gift from you that Beau had carried inside earlier.

With a small laugh, you pulled away from Beau slightly and reached over to grab the little stuffed creature. You held it up in front of him, making a teasing face. "And what’s this little guy doing here?" you asked with a grin.

Beau raised an eyebrow, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he saw what you were holding. “What can I say, I get easily attached.” He teased, though there was a warmth to his voice.

Beau inspected the little stuffed creature with mock seriousness. “You know, I never would’ve pegged you for the type to pick up something like this, but… I kinda like it.”

You shrugged with a grin. “I just thought he was cute, reminded me of someone I know.” You teased and Beau raised a brow at you before he eyed goofy little purple octopus, looking at it like it was the most precious thing in the world.

“Well, I gotta admit, it’s a little weird,” he said with a grin, “but... I like weird.” He turned to you with a smirk. “Maybe I’ll bring it to the station. Let Jenny and the others know I’m not just all hard edges and big guns.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. "You’re really going to bring it to the station?"

“Oh yeah,” he said with mock seriousness. “I’m plannin’ to make this little guy the station mascot. Let them all see what’s really going on behind the sheriff’s desk.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I think it suits you,” you said fondly, your heart swelling at the sight of Beau holding the little octopus with such a goofy, genuine look on his face.

Beau smiled, but it faded just a little as his fingers lingered on the plush creature, his thumb running absently over the fabric. He set the octopus down beside him, but there was a slight shift in his posture, a subtle change in the air. The lightheartedness from before seemed to evaporate, replaced by something quieter, more deliberate.

For a moment, the two of you simply stood there, in that comfortable silence, the faint hum of George Strait’s “Last in Love” in the background. You could feel the weight of it—the easy tension between you two, the kind that comes when something is about to change, something unspoken that’s been building for weeks.

Beau’s eyes met yours again, and you could see the same thing you’d seen all night—the warmth, the care, the admiration. But there was something else there too now, something that told you he was thinking about this night, about you, in a way he hadn’t before. There was a deeper longing behind those eyes, a hunger for more, but also a quiet hesitation.

“It's been a hell of a week,” he said softly, his voice deep and steady, but there was a slight roughness to it, like it had been tested in the last few days. He was a man of few words, but you’d learned that when he spoke, it meant something.

“I imagine so,” you replied, a teasing smile tugging at your lips, but it was softer now, less playful. The weight of the moment was sinking in, and you both felt it.

“I’ve been thinkin’ about this,” Beau murmured, taking a step closer, the space between you two closing slowly, his voice low but full of intent. “Thinkin’ about you.” He reached up and brushed a loose strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering a fraction longer than necessary.

You didn’t pull away. Instead, you met his gaze, understanding the gravity of what he was saying. It wasn’t just about tonight. It wasn’t just about the chemistry that had been there since the moment you met. This was about something deeper—something that had been growing between you since you’d made it official just a month ago.

Beau had been patient, a gentleman through and through, letting the relationship unfold at its own pace. He’d never rushed things, always careful to ensure that both of you felt comfortable. You knew he wanted to take it slow. But even now, with that same careful approach, the tension was unmistakable. It was in the way his hand hovered just above your skin, in the way his eyes traced your every feature as if memorising you.

“I don’t want to rush things, but…” His voice trailed off, like he wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence, but the meaning was clear. He didn’t need to explain further. You both knew what he meant.

“I know,” you whispered. “We’ve waited this long.”

Beau nodded slowly, his lips pressing together in a tight line as if struggling to find the right words. He wasn’t one to talk about his feelings often, but when he did, it carried a weight that made your chest tighten. You could feel the desire in his gaze, in the way he was looking at you, but there was also a deep respect there—he was giving you space, giving you control over the moment, over what came next.

“I’ve thought about it," he said quietly, stepping closer still, until the warmth of his body was almost unbearable. "Thought about it non-stop. But I wanted to take this slow, make sure we’re both ready for it.”

His words wrapped around your heart like a blanket, and you couldn’t help but smile softly. Beau had always been this way—steady, thoughtful, and more than willing to go at your pace. But hearing him admit how much he’d been thinking about this, about you, stirred something deep inside you. It wasn’t just about tonight; it was about the future, the promise of what was to come.

You took a step closer, closing the small gap between you. His presence was like a steady flame, warm and reliable, and you found yourself leaning into it without hesitation. Your fingers found their way to his chest, just lightly touching the fabric of his shirt, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your touch.

“I think I’m ready, Beau,” you whispered, your voice soft but firm. “And I want this, with you.”

A deep breath escaped Beau’s lips, and you saw the tension in his shoulders ease just slightly, but he didn’t rush. He never did. He met your gaze with that quiet strength you’d come to admire, and in that moment, you both knew something had changed. Something had shifted, and there was no going back.

“I want this with you too,” he said, his voice thick with emotion now. “But I need you to know, this isn’t just about tonight. It’s about everything that comes after. About us, together. Whatever that looks like.”

You smiled, a tender, knowing smile, your heart swelling with affection. “I know,” you whispered again, your thumb lightly brushing the side of his jaw, tracing the faint lines of stubble there. “And I want that too. I want you.”

The air between you thickened again, but this time, there was no more hesitation. No more waiting. Just the quiet understanding that when the moment came, it would be right. It would be something to treasure, something that would hold both of you in the days, weeks, months, hopefully years to come.

You closed the final gap between you, Beau’s hand gently cupping your face as he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours more purposefully this time. It was the kiss of someone who had waited, who had earned this moment. It was slow and deliberate, soft yet passionate. A promise of what was to come without any words.

And for a moment, everything else melted away. There was no rush, no urgency. Just the quiet warmth of Beau’s embrace, the sound of your combined breaths, and the certainty that you were both ready—ready to take that step forward, together.

AN: And there we have it folks. My first ever Beau Arlen fic 😄 Let me know what you guys think, and if I've done our sheriff justice 🥲💕

[faerieroyal]

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ children born of fairy stock, never need for shirt or frock…

🧚🏻‍♂️ what/who i write for … 🧚🏻‍♂️

➺ golden trio era: harry potter, ron weasley, hermione granger, luna lovegood, ginny weasley, neville longbottom, fred weasley, george weasley, oliver wood, percy weasley, dean thomas, draco malfoy, theodore nott, mattheo riddle.

➺ marauders era: james potter, remus lupin, sirius black, poly!marauders, regulus black, lily evans, marlene mckinnon, dorcas meadowes, mary macdonald, evan rosier, pandora lestrange, andromeda black, narcissa black, poly!valkyries, frank longbottom, alice fortescue, poly!starchaser, poly!wolfstar.

➺ gilmore girls: jess mariano, rory gilmore, paris geller, luke danes, lane kim, lorelai gilmore.

➺ dead poets society: neil perry, todd anderson, charlie dalton, steven meeks, gerard pitts.

➺ criminal minds: spencer reid, aaron hotchner, emily prentiss, elle greenaway.

➺ marvel: peter parker (tasm or mcu), bruce banner, kate bishop, yelena belova (platonic, familial, or qpr requests only), bucky barnes, sam wilson, poly!sambucky, ava starr, loki laufeyson, druig, makkari, poly!drukkari, natasha romanoff, pietro maximoff, wanda maximoff, eddie brock, marc spector/steven grant/jake lockley, layla el-faouly.

➺ x-men: scott summers, jean grey, logan howlett, wade wilson, poly!deadclaws, hank mccoy, kurt wagner, alex summers.

➺ bridgerton: anthony bridgerton, benedict bridgerton, colin bridgerton, penelope featherington, eloise bridgerton, simon basset, kate sharma, edwina sharma, poly!kanthony.

➺ dc: bruce wayne, harley quinn, jason todd, dick grayson, tim drake, damian wayne (platonic or familial requests only), barbara gordon, cassandra cain, stephanie brown, clark kent, wally west, barry allen, pamela isley.

➺ newsies: jack kelly, “crutchie” morris, davey jacobs, spot conlon, racetrack higgins.

➺ formula one: charles leclerc, carlos sainz, max verstappen, logan sargeant, oscar piastri, lewis hamilton, fernando alonso, lance stroll, mick schumacher, alex albon, george russell, esteban ocon, yuki tsunoda, zhou guanyu.

➺ nhl hockey: quinn hughes, jack hughes, luke hughes, nico hischier, william nylander, matthew knies, joseph woll, sidney crosby, leon draisaitl, jeremy swayman, brock faber, jake middleton, matt boldy, jamie drysdale, nick suzuki, cole caufield, arber xhekaj, juraj slafkovsky, matty beniers, shane wright, jared mccann, joey daccord, adam larsson.

➺ the hobbit (movies): thorin oakenshield, thranduil, kíli durin, fíli durin.

➺ horror: poly!ghostface (billy loomis & stu macher), jason voorhees, michael myers, daniel robitaille, carrie white, hannibal lecter, thomas hewitt, vincent sinclair.

➺ miscellaneous: phil wenneck (the hangover), goodnight robicheaux (the magnificent seven 2016), billy rocks (the magnificent seven 2016), tangerine (bullet train), roy kent (ted lasso), ted lasso (ted lasso), evan “buck” buckley (911), eddie diaz (911), poly!buddie (911), eggsy unwin (kingsman), joel miller (the last of us).

🧚🏻‍♂️ request guidelines … 🧚🏻‍♂️

reader preferences: any! i will write for male, female, gender-neutral readers. ♡

what i write: i will write one-shots, headcanons, little blurbs, and drabbles based on any of the prompt lists i have reblogged, for all the characters listed above! ♡

unique requests: please do not send me any requests you have also sent to other writers! i would like to keep requests sent to me as singular as possible. ♡

request types: there are a few characters listed above who have been marked for me only accepting platonic, familial, or queerplatonic requests for them. i ask that you respect this, please! ♡

content boundaries: anything that falls into darkfic territory (stalking, kidnapping, etc.), pregnancy, infidelity, i will write smut but nothing very kinky (no judgment, i just wouldn’t be any good at writing it). ♡

request manners: please be polite! i won’t ask for much, just a simple please or thank you! ♡

never want for food or fire, always get their heart’s desire. °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

[multifandom-exe]

Characters i write for!

These are the characters i write fan-fiction for! I'm forgetful so if you don't see a character mentioned here, don't hesitate to drop a request anyway! Please drop requests! This may Get updated in the future

Actors

I write for any actors of the characters listed aswell!

MCU

Bucky Barnes

Sam Wilson

Steve Rogers

Natasha Romanoff

Tony Stark

Peter Parker

Thor Odinson

Loki Laufeyson

Wanda Maximoff

Pietro Maximoff

Bruce Banner

Clint Barton

Maria Hill

Nick Fury

Criminal Minds

Spencer Reid

Derek Morgan

Aaron Hotchner

Emily Prentiss

Jennifer Jareau

Penelope Garcia

David Rossi

NCIS

Leroy Jethro Gibbs

Tony Dinozzo

Kate Todd

Ziva David

Timothy Mcgee

Abby Sciuto

Jimmy Palmer

Donald Mallard (Ducky)

Harry potter

Golden Era

Harry Potter

Hermione Granger

Ron Weasley

Draco Malfoy

Blaise Zambini

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Oliver Wood

Cedric Diggory

Marauders Era

Remus Lupin

Sirius Black

James potter

Lily Evans

Severus Snape

House MD

Gregory House

James Wilson

Lisa Cuddy

Stacey Warner

Alison Cameron

Robert Chase

Eric Foreman

Remy 'Thirteen' Hadley

Laurence Kutner

UK Youtubers

Will Lenney

Arthur Television

James marriot

George Memeulous

George Clarke

Chris MD

Arthur Hill

Italian Bach

The Walking Dead

Rick Grimes

Lori Grimes

Carl Grimes

Shane Walsh

Daryl Dixon

Glenn Rhee

Maggie Greene

Beth Greene

Michonne

Dexter

Decter Morgan

Debra Morgan

James Doakes

Angel Baptista

Rita Bennet

Brian Moser

Frank Lundy

Sherlock

Sherlock Holmes

Mycroft Holmes

Jim Moriarty

John Watson

Euphoria

Rue Bennett

Jules Vaughn

Fezco

Lexi Howard

Maddie Perez

Kat Hernandez

Doctor Who

9th Doctor

Rose Tyler

10th Doctor

Donna Noble

11th Doctor

Amy Pond

That 70s show

Steven Hyde

Micheal Kelso

Jackie Burkhart

Donna Pinciotti

Eric Foreman

-

And anybody else you may like!

I have no specific rules on requesting, just the character, a prompt if you have one, and a little description

Find my masterlist here

[acronym-chaos]

Stanley (Stanley Parable) ID Pack

[PT: Stanley (Stanley Parable) ID Pack].

[ID: A purple thin line divider shaded at the bottom. End ID].

Names

[PT: Names].

Alice, Arthur, Audrey, Bernard, Casey, Charlie, Charlotte, Claire, Clark, Dale, Dakota, Diana, Douglas, Edith, Eleanor, Elliot, Emma, Ernest, Evelyn, Finley, Frank, Gary, George, Grace, Harper, Harold, Hazel, Henry, Jack, James, Jamie, Jonathan, Jordan, Julia, Kevin, Larry, Leonard, Leslie, Lily, Lloyd, Malcolm, Margaret, Martin, Michael, Morgan, Nora, Norman, Oliver, Oscar, Parker, Penelope, Peter, Phillip, Quinn, Ralph, Richard, Riley, Robert, Rose, Rowan, Sam, Samuel, Sarah, Sidney, Stanley, Stella, Steven, Stuart, Taylor, Thomas, Victoria, Vincent, Wallace, Walter, William, Winston

Pronouns

[PT: Pronouns].

Blo / Block / Blocks; Bo / Button / Buttons; Choi / Choice / Choices; Cli / Click / Clicks; Deci / Sion / Decis [Decision]; En / End / Ends; Follow / Follows / Follows; Opt / Option / Options; Path / Path / Paths; Press / Press / Presses; Prompt / Prompt / Prompts; Quit / Quit / Quits; Re / Restart / Restarts; Re / Rewind / Rewinds; Rep / Repeat / Repeats; Ste / Step / Steps; Ti / Time / Times; Opt / Option / Options

Titles

[PT: Titles].

An Office Drone; Reluctant Follower; The Button Presser; The Choice Maker; The Decision Unmaker; The Employee in Room 427; The One Who Follows; The One Who Stays on Track; The Path Walker; The Player of Games; The Protagonist in a Story; The Reluctant Hero; The Subject of Narration; The Wanderer of Choices; The Worker Who Breaks the Cycle; [Pronoun] With Many Paths; [Pronoun] Who Can Restart; [Pronoun] Who Chooses the Path; [Pronoun] Who Defies the Narrator; [Pronoun] Who Resets Reality

[ID: A purple thin line divider shaded at the bottom. End ID].

Requested by anon!

Also tagging: @pronoun-arc @id-pack-archive

[live-laugh-lenney]

number one fan | george clarke

summary; yn is the biggest supporter at wembley stadium for george during his appearance at the sidemen charity match.

word count; 2.9k

** warnings; slight mention of sex but just pure, sickening fluff. **

just a little something quick, short and sweet to celebrate the charity match - the atmosphere was unreal and i'm so glad to say i was there to witness george scoring his goal at wembley. the best day of my life and i would do it all over again. <33 (i am going to include the day of the charity match in my current WIP fic - bestfriend!george/boyfriend!arthur - so i will go into more detail about this day in that!). let me know what you think. enjoy! x

The atmosphere of Wembley Stadium felt suffocating to YN.

But it was a good kind of suffocating if the word ‘suffocating’ had a positive connotation to it. 

It was electric, filled with so much anticipation, filled with bubbling excitement as people gathered from all over the country, with some travelling from all over the world, to support their favourite content creators in something that would be classed as historic for those in the career path of social media.

The loudness and the intensity of an almost full stadium, as the minutes on the screens ticked by till kick-off, was slightly overwhelming for her and she could feel the familiar feeling of nerves bubbling low in her belly and it felt a little strange for her to have been there for a football match as opposed to a concert. Because the last time she had been there was for a Harry Styles concert during a London heatwave yet, this time, it was a whole different experience. This was Wembley Stadium, the home of English football, and she was eager to experience the unique vibe it offered for the next three hours, ready to soak in every moment. 

It felt even stranger for her to have been there for someone she knew personally. The same someone she got to go home with afterwards and the same someone who (almost) everyone in the stadium had come to see and it gave her a feeling of superiority because she was the lucky one who got to kiss him once she saw him after, who got to take him home, who got to give him a massage as he laid in bed, who got to support him and be known as his number one supporter… she was one step ahead of everyone who had come to see him that day and, deep down, she relished in that feeling.

She’d travelled in with the two Arthur’s, since they were coming from the same part of London together and she didn’t want to travel on her own whilst George travelled in on a coach-load of Youtubers prepped in their kits for the day, feeling at ease knowing she could follow them and have her nerves calmed because they’d make sure to keep her mind free of any panic and anxiety she had about the day. Hearing their nonsense on the tube as they nattered about upcoming Youtube video ideas they were looking forward to filming, chiming in on how she really wanted to participate in a ‘Platform Roulette’ whenever they were next planning one and insisting she’d be able to keep up with the rate they drank at, taking pictures and videos of their day so she could document it all on TikTok and so George could use it in a video because, no doubt, he was going to put out a little something to show his gratitude to the opportunity he was given.

As each seat gained an occupant around her, her eyes dragged slowly from row to row as seats were filling up and she still couldn’t comprehend how she was stood in a box, amongst everyone else’s friends and family as they gathered for the huge event, ready to watch her boyfriend run the length of the pitch for under ninety minutes. Behind her, she was graced with Emily and her partner as well as George’s mum and dad, and she felt a lot more relaxed knowing they felt the same way she did; they were all in this together.

“Say hello to TikTok, lovely,” Emily insisted, holding out her phone in YN’s direction so she could wave and give the camera a shy smile and she graciously obliged, saying the sweetest ‘hello’ before Emily saved the video and put her phone back into her pocket, “I’m taking a page out of George’s book today and filming a little ‘day in the life of watching my baby brother play at Wembley’ and we all know the girlies want to see you.”

“I’m sure they only want to see George,” YN laughed, pushing her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose and situating herself a little more comfortably in her chair so she could still have a face-to-face conversation with George’s family but still have an eye on the pitch as they watched the players warm-up on the grass, and Emily shook her head, “I tend not to look at comments from people, really.”

“Well, you should have a little nosey look every now and then. They love you and George together,” she claimed and YN’s cheeks felt like they were hotting up, “besides, I’d have a few choice words for them if they ever choose to upset you. George can handle himself but I’ve got your back,” she gave YN’s cheeks a little pinch with her fingers and grinned at her playfully, “we love you, George loves you, that’s all that matters right?”

YN nodded shyly.

The way his family had welcomed her in, it felt so wholesome in her eyes. How they made her feel part of the family from the moment he took her back to Bristol for a weekend, how they showed interest in her life and asked her questions about her and her own family, how they gave her so much love for someone they’d only just met. Being sat with them, during a milestone that was huge for George and his career, made her feel so warm on the inside.

“Speaking of George,” YN took a glance across to where he was performing the warm-up in front of the crowd before she looked back to his sister,, “I can’t believe we’re here for him.”

“I remember the day he phoned us up and asked us if we wanted to come and watch,” George’s mum chimed in, looking up from her phone, momentarily taking a break from scrolling through some of the pictures she’d already taken that day, “I think his dad nearly had a heart attack when he mentioned he was playing on this pitch.”

“It’s not every day that your son says he’s playing football at a sold-out Wembley stadium,” his dad exclaimed, completely decked out in merchandise that made YN want to cry over because he looked so supportive, “there wasn’t a chance we were missing this.”

YN understood the significance of how much the opportunity meant to George.

The night before, as they bid farewell to each other, she could sense his anxiety and apprehension. The loving embrace they shared in the entryway of her flat, with his bag packed at their feet, was a poignant moment for both of them. George was visibly nervous and nauseous, knowing he would soon be standing on a stage in front of ninety-thousand people, all gathered for a noble cause. Despite his usual outward display of confidence, the jokes he’d make to bring lightheartedness to any room he was in, George confided in YN about his inner turmoil. 

He admitted to shedding tears, overwhelmed by the pressure to perform well and the fear of not measuring up to the expectations of his audience and he likened his feelings to that of 'imposter syndrome', as he prepared to share the stage with the very YouTubers he had idolized in his youth.

At that moment, all George longed for was YN's presence and her growing support. He found solace in her comforting embrace, knowing that her unwavering belief in him would help him overcome his fears and insecurities. As they parted ways that night, YN remained a source of strength and reassurance for George, providing him with the courage he needed to face the challenges that lay ahead.

---

“I just wish you could come with me tonight,” he pouted, eyes glossed over with tears and YN’s heart broke as he stood before her. He looked like a child who was scared to partake in the school play. “I know it’s silly to get so emotional but, I just want to live this moment with you. You’ve been by my side since the beginning of all of this that’s happening in my life. You’ve never let me do things alone, you’ve always held my hand, you’ve always made sure you were there for me.”

“It’s only one night,” she cooed softly, running a hand through his hair and letting her fingers curl in the curls at the back of his head, “I’ll see you in less than 12 hours, you silly boy.”

“I know but I want to live in the moment with you,” he sighed heavily and rolled his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he took an aching swallow, “and I feel so out of place there. Training today, I was amongst the likes of MrBeast and Logan Paul. Speed, as well. It just doesn’t feel right. It feels like I’m checking off a box and that’s the worst way to look at it because they’re my friends.”

“You deserve all of the successes that happen to you, George,” she reminded him and he brought his head back to look at her, her hands cupping his face and he felt comfort in how soft her thumbs felt as they dragged across his cheeks and collected the moisture of his emotions from his skin, “I’m so proud of you, I love you, and I can’t wait to be there tomorrow. Cheering you on with your family, with your friends, with all those fans of yours who have come to watch as you live out your dream.”

“Don’t forget to wear the shirt, will you?”

“Of course not,” she shook her head softly. Her Sidemen FC match shirt, with ‘Clarkey’ written across the back of her shoulders and the number ‘8’ embellished underneath it, was folded up neatly with the rest of her outfit - ripped and baggy jeans and one of George’s zip-up hoodies that she thought would act as some good luck - and she truly felt like she was a WAG and she wondered if this was how Talia, Freya and Faith felt before the first Sidemen match they ever attended. “I’m going to wear it with pride. I don’t think I’ll take it off for a while.”

“What if I take it off for you?”

“Only if you score,” she grinned at him with a glint of cheekiness in her eyes and it was enough to bring a wide, face-splitting grin to his mouth, “seriously. If you score, you can do whatever you want with me when we get back home.”

---

Eighty-eight minutes.

There were two minutes left in the game, two minutes left before chaos ensued as they rushed to get the winner’s podium set up, two minutes left for one of them to gain the winning coal to keep it from a tied eight-all score at the end. To her right was ArthurTV, visibly nervous whilst he chewed on his nails as his knee bounced up and down and occasionally bumped against hers, and to her left was Max, who was oblivious to the heightened atmosphere but had his eyes glued to the players on the pitch and she was certain he was looking for George but, then again, so was she and about half of the fans in Wembley Stadium. 

As the clock ticked down, the anticipation grew palpable, each second feeling like an eternity. The stakes were high, and the pressure was mounting for the players on the field. The outcome of the game would soon be decided, and the tension in the stadium was almost tangible.

A corner kick from Tobi, a poor touch from AngryGinge, and suddenly the stadium erupted into cheers and it took YN a brief moment to realise just who was on the other end of Tobi’s cross into the box.

“Oh, my god!”

Arthur turned to YN as everyone around them stood to their feet with their arms punching the air in excitement as they celebrated the ball going into the back of the net, grabbing her shoulders and giving her an enthusiastic shake whilst her own hands came up to cover her mouth in pure shock, her eyes darting from Arthur’s face to the pitch so she could find George to the screen that showed the moment her boyfriend got the final toe-poke touch of the ball as it crossed the line. A desperate lunge to make sure it didn’t skim the post, to make sure they got the winning goal, to make sure it was nestled deeply into the net as confirmation he’d won the game for Sidemen FC with their nine goals to the AllStars’ eight goals. 

“As if!”

She couldn’t contain the smile that burst from her lips, her vision landing on George as players in all black had surrounded him as they celebrated together, watching as Chris and Will went over to give him a celebratory hug before they joined the rest of their team before they restarted the game. The way he sauntered around the grass with confidence in every step he took, his eyes scanning the crowd to see if he could find where YN was sitting, giving her a wave and blowing a kiss in her direction once he saw her in the far distance.

“If he’s just won that for the Sidemen, my god,” Arthur sat back down in his seat, adjusting the sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, “he will not shut up about this now, you realise that?”

“I know,” YN grinned proudly, clapping her hands together and letting them fall to her lap, “but I’m okay with that. I’m so okay with that.”

But it wasn’t meant to be.

Theo brought the ball down in the box at the opposite end and slotted it into the back of the net for his Wembley hattrick, which YN couldn’t fault his incredible attempt and considered him the player most worthy to get the only hattrick of the day, but she felt the knot in her stomach tighten at how George didn’t quite become the hero of the game but still managed to make his mark. 

---

“Well, well, well.”

She turned on her heels, a bottle of beer held tightly in her hands, and she took in George’s appearance - freshly washed hair that had become fluffy and soft now it had naturally dried, the smell of his shower gel and an even stronger smell of his aftershave that he’d spritzed over himself wafted up her nose and she just wanted to devour him in kisses and take him home so she could have him all to herself. He dropped his sports bag down by the table that his family were situated at, using his foot to slide it underneath so it was out of sight for everyone and not so much of a tripping hazard to those in the room, and she placed her drink down on the tabletop so she could wrap her arms around him in a tight hug. His arms sliding around her waist and he held her tightly to his front, hiding his face in the crook of her neck and goosebumps rose upon her skin at the way his moustache and the prickles of his beard tickled at her bare skin.

“I guess I’m taking this off tonight,” he whispered softly into her ear whilst his fingers toyed with the material of the shirt tucked into her jeans yet swallowing her upper body, “did we shake on that? You’re not going back on your word, are you?”

“I was going to let you anyway,” she responded, hands combing through the mullet he had almost perfected and he lifted his head from her neck to take in his surroundings, “you did so good today. I’m so incredibly proud of you.”

The smile on his face seemed permanent.

He could see his dad, pushing through the crowd, with bottles of beer in his hands as he made his way back to their table. He could hear his mum behind him as she ushered his sister and her partner to get ready to bombard him with hugs and kisses as they professed their pride and their love for him. He could see his friends all huddled together in different corners of the room, how all their families were gathered in this space and talking amongst themselves, photos being snapped and vlogs being filmed from all over the place that he’d definitely be showing his face in. 

Yet all his mind would focus on, at that moment, was YN. 

“You can go and wander around, you know? We’ll still be here if you want to go and talk to people,” YN insisted, looking up at him as he scanned the room, his arm tightening around her waist as he pulled her closer to his side, “we don’t mind if you do.”

“No,” he shook his head, looking down at her and pressing a kiss to her forehead, “I spent all day with these guys. I want to savour this moment with you.”

“You’re such a softie,” she laughed, sliding her arm around his middle and giving his hip a squeeze, “I still can’t believe you scored a goal out there today.”

“I knew what was on the line tonight,” he said coolly with a smirk twitching at his lips, and he took a swig of the beer from the bottle his dad had handed him to hide the cocky look that pieced his features together in a lustful way, his eyes turning a devilishly darker shade than normal, “what do say about us leaving early?”

“You don’t want to go out and celebrate with everyone else?”

“Not when we’ve got some celebrating of our own to do.”

[fiftyfiftyfinchy]

🌟 Fanfiction Requests Are Open! 🌟

Hi everyone! I’m cam, I’m way too old to be on here, and I especially am far too old to be writing fanfic, but alas, here I am. Please feel free to send me ideas/requests for anything you’d like to read! 📖✍️

Who I write for: ✨ ArthurTV ✨ George Clarke ✨ W2S ✨ Arthur Hill ✨ ChrisMD ✨ WillNE

What I can write:💌 Romantic pairings (any gender combinations welcome!) 🎉 Cute, funny, or awkward moments ⚡ Your most specific and wild prompts—try me!

Feel free to send me:

A character or pairing

A vibe or setting

A snippet of dialogue or even just a single word for inspiration

I’ll post snippets or full pieces, depending on the prompt. Ty for reading <3

[based--ball]

creators are revealed, so here's a quick roundup of my works for there's only one you this year!!

notes: this was so fun and i tried things i wouldn't have done without this event to get me thinking! also please mind the tags!

Women's Hockey RPF

like a post-game athlete (Emily Clark, prompt "There's Only One You", collage, rated G)

Emily Clark: bright, fiery, victorious

Baseball RPF

there’s a wild thing in the woolshed and it’s keeping me awake at night (Bryce Harper/Bryce Harper and Bryce Harper & Nick Castellanos, prompt "mirror", 600 words, rated T)

It’s still not quite right, but on the other side of the bathroom mirror, something’s there. Someone’s there.

it feels better biting down (Chris Bassitt/Ernie Clement/Davis Schneider, prompt "injury", 300 words, rated E)

“Use your teeth. Hard. Make him feel it.”

come on, dude, time and place (Danny Jansen/Jordan Romano, prompt "reunion", 200 words, rated M)

The second Jordan picks up, Danny starts whispering fiercely.

it may be erotic, it may be ecstatic (Kevin Kiermaier/Daulton Varsho, prompt "control", 300 words, rated E)

He never thought Kevin would be kneeling at his feet on his bathroom floor, not even a teammate anymore. Not quite a coach either, but close.

potential energy (Ernie Clement/Davis Schneider, prompt "There's Only One You", collage/poem, rated G)

a haiga about anticipation

put some siouxsie on the bp playlist for me (Bo Bichette, prompt "There's Only One You", collage, rated G)

goth bo bichette when???

relax, don't do it (George Springer/Daulton Varsho, prompt "pressure", 1500 words, rated E)

“They’re digging up my street,” Daulton tells George over the phone from where he’s stopped. “There’s a water main break.”

sleep on the floor, dream about me (Danny Jansen/Jordan Romano, prompt "There's Only One You", 200 words, rated M)

Danny calls Jordan at night.

only if it's you (Vladimir Guerrero Jr./Teoscar Hernández, prompt "champion", 100 words, rated M)

He's a champion.

reconsider, redecorate (Chris Bassitt/Kevin Gausman, prompt "kayak", 200 words, rated G)

When Chris moves in he brings three camo throw cushions.

[clarkesb0y]

WHO I WILL WRITE ⌿

keys (what i would write for the chars) :

- angst - *

- fluff - ^

- smut - ‘

youtubers/tiktokers :

zerkaa (josh) *^‘

wroetoshaw (harry) *^‘

miniminter (simon) *^‘

george clarke *^‘

arthur tv *^‘

top gun :

jake 'hangman' seresin *^‘

bradley 'rooster' bradshaw *^‘

shameless :

lip gallagher *^‘

carl gallagher *^‘

ian gallagher *^‘

the hunger games :

peeta mellark *^‘

finnick odair *^‘

coriolanus snow (tbosas) *^‘

sejanus plinth *^‘

heartbreak high :

malakai *^‘

ant *^‘

spider *^‘

cash *^‘

actors ( *^‘ )

request any actor, theres a big chance i will write about them.

/ xtra

i may write more characters from movies/tv shows, request them and i will think about it.

you can request multiple characters in the same group, but must include m!reader in your prompt message.

[edgessunflower]

Welcome to our prompt list! @romanthereigns 🫶🏻

⚠️ Give us credits if you use any prompts! ⚠️

✧ “Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies”- Andy Dufresne, Shawshank Redemption

✧ "You'll have bad times, but that'll wake you up to the good stuff you weren't paying attention to" - Sean Maguire, Good Will Hunting

✧ “I’ve just had the best summer of my life and now I have to go away, it isn’t fair” – Sandy, Grease

✧ "They say when you meet the love of your life, time stops, and that's true. What they don't tell you is that when it starts again, it moves extra fast to catch up" - Edward Bloom, Big Fish

✧ “So it’s not gonna be easy, it’s gonna be really hard. We’re gonna have to work at this every day, but I want to do that because I want you. I want all of you, forever, you and me everyday” - Noah, The Notebook

✧ "We accept the love we think we deserve" - Mr Anderson, Perks of being a wallflower

✧ “And sometimes you love a person just because they feel like home” - Bridget Jones, Bridget Jones’ Diary

✧ "Something better than you? there isn't anything better than you" - Forney Hull, Where the heart is

✧ “I vow to love you, and no matter what challenges might carry us apart, we will always find a way back to each other”-Leo, The Vow

✧ "I love you, I've always loved you" - Jenna Rink, 13 going on 30

✧ “But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all”- Kat Stratford, 10 Things I Hate About You

✧ "You were born into a family that doesn't always appreciate you, but one day things are gonna be very different" - Miss Honey, Matilda

✧ “I want to wake up with you beside me in the mornings, I want to spend my evenings looking at you across the dinner table, I want to share every mundane detail of my day with you and hear every detail of yours, I want to laugh with you and fall asleep with you in my arms”- Dawson Cole, The Best Of Me

✧ "I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone" - Arwen, Lord of the rings

✧ “You know the smallest thing can change a life. In the blink of an eye, something happens by chance-and when you least expect it-since we’re on a course that you could have never planned, into a future you never imagined”- Logan Thibault, The Lucky One

✧ "We get to choose who we let into our weird little worlds" - Sean Maguire, Good Will Hunting

✧ “Since the invention of the kiss, there have only been 5 kisses that were rated the most passionate-the most pure. This one left them all behind”- William Goldman, The Princess Bride

✧ "You deserve a guy who says I can't imagine a world without you in it" - Drew Baylor, Elizabethtown

✧ “You want the moon? Just say the word and I’ll throw a lasso around it and pull it down”- George Bailey, It’s A Wonderful Life

✧ "You is kind, you is smart, you is important" - Aibileen Clark, The Help

[mediamonarchy]

https://mediamonarchy.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/20240418_MorningMonarchy.mp3 Download MP3 Rust sentencing, false god particles and the tickle giggle + this day in history w/directing NXIVM and our song of the day by Michelle David & The True-tones on your #MorningMonarchy for April 18, 2024. Notes/Links: Image: Please keep your arms and legs inside the ride until the gnar has come to a complete stop https://mediamonarchy.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/rollercoaster_gnar_ride.png Sierra Leone declares emergency over drug kush – made from human bones; Psychoactive drug kush has prompted a wave of deaths, mental health issues and the digging up of graves. https://www.bbc.com/news/world-africa-68742694 Rats are ‘all high’ on marijuana stored in infested New Orleans police evidence room https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/rats-are-high-marijuana-stored-infested-new-Orleans-police-evidence-ro-rcna143249 Video: Rats infest New Orleans Police Headquarters, eat marijuana in evidence (Audio) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vkbP1tYENQY New York faces major rat urine problem https://www.rt.com/news/595847-new-york-rats-leptospirosis-rise/ Let Them Eat Snake – Climate farming dreams: A nightmare for diners. https://johnklar.substack.com/p/let-them-eat-snake Video: @AnarchistAlchemist’s Corby Bugz Beatz (Audio) https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/379774652719038466/1229852536182411306/VID_20240416_125207383.mp42.mp4?ex=6631306e&is=661ebb6e&hm=ee9e864069ea24c5317642fceddd620a7ce118a8370ea75dbe594b02ce542fa7& Bird mimicking police siren confuses officers https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-oxfordshire-68785461 Gordon Ramsay’s pub has a squatter problem: far-left collective calling themselves Camden Art Cafe, have turned the property into an “autonomous” zone, akin to Seattle’s CHAZ and George Floyd Square in Minnesota https://www.mirror.co.uk/3am/celebrity-news/gordon-ramsays-nightmare-squatters-take-32580460 Man upset over guacamole amount shoots Michigan Chipotle employee https://www.fox2detroit.com/news/man-upset-over-guacamole-amount-shoots-michigan-chipotle-employee-police-say O.J. Simpson’s Will Executor Says ‘Fred Goldman’s Claim Will Be Accepted’ Days After Saying He’d Get ‘Zero’: Report; O.J. Simpson’s final will was filed in Clark County, Nev., on April 12, two days after his death at 76 https://people.com/oj-simpson-will-fred-goldman-claim-accepted-lawyer-says-8634390 Ron Goldman https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ron_Goldman Homeless man steals former FDNY fireboat, can’t start engine https://archive.is/ses2b “Rust” armorer Hannah Gutierrez-Reed sentenced to 18 months in prison over deadly 2021 shooting https://www.cbsnews.com/news/hannah-gutierrez-reed-rust-armorer-shooting-sentence-hearing-involuntary-manslaughter-halyna-hutchins-alec-baldwin-new-mexico/ Video: “Rust” armorer Hannah Gutierrez-Reed sentenced to 18 months in prison (Audio) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6WoFBElYsdg Image: @Hybrid’s Cover Art – The Woke Ranger’s ‘Cage of Rust’ https://mediamonarchy.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/20240418_MorningMonarchy.jpg Image: Previous album – The Woke Ranger’s ‘Cocaine Country’ (Feb. 22, 2024) https://mediamonarchy.com/20240222morningmonarchy/ ‘Neo-Nazi Satanist cannibals’ who lured woman to her death as a human sacrifice then ‘roasted and ate another victim’s flesh and ribs’ are jailed in Russia https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-13289595/Neo-Nazi-Satanist-cannibals-lured-woman-death-human-sacrifice-roasted-ate-victims-flesh-ribs-jailed-Russia.html Alabama harvested the organs of inmates without consent, families say; A long-standing agreement between the Department of Corrections and University of Alabama at Birmingham gives the commissioner authority to permit an autopsy, including the “removal of organs and tissues.” https://archive.is/fa5Wj Gabriel Holt: Tributes to Wales rugby league player who has died suddenly aged 21 https://news.sky.com/story/gabriel-holt-tributes-to-wales-rugby-league-player-who-h...

[xtruss]

The Vicious Things Republi(Cunts) Have Said About Palestinians Since October 7

“The Costs of Saying Things That are Undeniably and Horrifically Dehumanizing Toward Palestinians are So Low.”

— Prem Thakker | April 4, 2024

Boak Bollocks Senile Oaf Rep. Tim Walberg, R-Michigan, speaks during a House Republicans news conference in the Capitol on December 6, 2023. Photo: Bill Clark/CQ-Roll Call, Inc via Getty Images

Michigan Republi(Cunt) Boak Bollocks Senile Oaf Rep. Tim Walberg recently declared at a town hall that the U.S. “Shouldn’t Be Spending a Dime on Humanitarian Aid,” in Gaza. Instead, he posed, “it should be like Nagasaki and Hiroshima. Get it over quick.”

After the shocking statement went viral, his office tried to soften the blow. It provided a full transcript of Walberg’s comments to CNN, which reported that Walberg had also said that a similar logic could be applied to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. “Defeat Putin quick. Instead [of] 80% in Ukraine being used for humanitarian purposes, it should be 80-100% to wipe out Russia, if that’s what we want to do.”

Walberg then attempted to walk the comment back in a statement, in which he said he was not suggesting that nukes be used to end either war. Yet there’s no denying that he invoked horrifying instances of the U.S. dropping atomic bombs in reference to Gaza — just the latest vicious, warmongering statement by a Republican lawmaker since October 7.

While Walberg’s comments received a fair amount of critical media coverage, the response from his congressional colleagues was muted — underscoring a stark double standard in the public treatment of those who advocate for Palestinian rights, and those who dehumanize them.

Members of Congress like Reps. Rashida Tlaib, D-Mich.; Ilhan Omar, D-Minn.; and Pramila Jayapal, D-Wash., have long been pilloried — and even censured — by their colleagues for speaking out against Israel’s brutal treatment of Palestinians, while the media class has spilled boats-worth of ink on bad-faith interpretations of the progressive Democrats’ statements. Republicans who belittle, or even encourage, Palestinian suffering have typically generated no such equal, let alone proportional, response.

Republican House Speaker Mike Johnson and Democratic House Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries did not respond to questions about what party leadership is doing in response to lawmakers’ callous comments about Palestinians, especially as the death toll in Gaza continues to rise.

Yousef Munayyer, a political analyst and senior fellow at the Arab Center Washington DC, noted that the cost of misspeaking — or having comments misconstrued — on Israel is unparalleled.

“The social and political costs of stepping on the taboos of saying anything that could be even possibly misconstrued as antisemitic are so high,” Munayyer told The Intercept. “And yet the costs of saying things that are undeniably and horrifically dehumanizing toward Palestinians are so low. I don’t know of a double standard as extreme as that on any other issue.”

Republi(Cunts’) Hunger For Violence began just days after Hamas’s attack against Israel on October 7. “We are in a religious war here, I’m with Israel,” Sen. Lindsey Graham, R-S.C., declared on October 11, in an appearance on Fox News. “Do whatever the hell you have to do to defend yourself. Level the place.” (Graham later said that no amount of civilian casualties in Gaza would prompt him to scrutinize Israel’s conduct.)

Sen. Tom Cotton, R-Ark., echoed Graham’s bloodlust on Fox in mid-October. “As far as I’m concerned, Israel can bounce the rubble in Gaza,” said the senator who famously called for the Trump administration to sic the military on protesters at the height of the George Floyd uprising. “Anything that happens in Gaza is the responsibility of Hamas. Hamas killed women and children in Israel last weekend,” he added. In the months to come, Israel would go on to kill over 25,000 Palestinian women and children.

In the House of Representatives, Republicans have taken glee in fantasizing about Palestinian suffering.

On October 11, Ohio Rep. Max Miller lambasted Tlaib for planting a Palestinian flag outside her congressional office. He refused to recognize Palestine as a state, calling it “a territory that’s about to probably get eviscerated and go away here shortly, as we’re going to turn that into a parking lot.”

A few days later, Miller’s colleague Rep. Brian Mast, R-Fla., took the unusual step of donning the military garb of a foreign country in the halls of the Congress — wearing an Israel Defense Forces uniform he earned while volunteering for the country’s military in 2015. Shortly thereafter, he introduced an amendment that would slow down humanitarian aid to Gaza. “Any assistance should be slowed down — any assistance,” Mast said in a House Foreign Affairs Committee hearing on the bill. “Because I would challenge anybody in here to point to me, which Palestinian is Hamas, and which one is an innocent civilian? … It should absolutely be every effort made to slow down any perceived assistance that’s going there.”

Mast later tripled down. “I would encourage the other side to not so lightly throw around the idea of ‘innocent Palestinian civilians,’ as is frequently said,” Mast said on the House floor. “I don’t think we would so lightly throw around the term ‘innocent Nazi civilians’ during World War II.”

In late January, when asked about the babies Israeli forces have killed in Gaza, Mast responded coldly: “These are not innocent Palestinian civilians.” Confronted with the idea that Israel has destroyed more infrastructure in Gaza than was destroyed in Dresden during World War II, Mast said, “There’s more infrastructure that needs to be destroyed,” repeated the line, and promised “there will be more that gets destroyed.” Finally, he vowed to do everything he could to stop the government from supporting the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees. Mast described the creation of UNRWA as “moronic”; last month, Congress voted to defund the agency for a full year, even as a widespread famine looms over Gaza.

In late February, Tennessee Republican Andy Ogles vilely dismissed protesters who took issue with their taxes going toward killing children.

“I’ve seen the footage of shredded children’s bodies — that’s my taxpayer dollars going to bomb those kids,” a protester said.

“You know what, so, I think we should kill ’em all,” Ogles responded. “If that makes you feel better.”(His spokesperson later claimed to The Tennessean that he “was not referring to Palestinians, he was clearly referring to the Hamas terrorist group.”)

The protesters cited Israeli forces starving women and children, killing over 300 health care workers, and “sniping Christian women in churches” as war crimes. Ogles, however, instead responded only to being called an “AIPAC zombie” with “Death to Hamas.”

In early March, a flustered Rep. Chuck Fleischmann, also of Tennessee, yelled at a Palestinian American protester from Gaza, who has now lost over 100 family members in Israel’s war.

“They are not guilty of genocide,” the Republican said of Israel, which the world’s highest court and a U.S. district court have both said is plausibly committing genocide in Gaza. “You can tell the Palestinians — I will never support them!”

“I am a Palestinian myself,” a protester responded.

“Then I will tell you, I will never support you,” Fleischmann screamed back. “I will tell you to your face: Goodbye to Palestine!”

After Months of this Behavior From Republi(Cunts), not one has been censured by their colleagues, not one has been savaged by the media for days on end, not one been cast as a poster child of the virulent anti-Palestinian racism flowing through American institutions.

Meanwhile, last year, Jayapal was pilloried by Republicans and thrown under the bus by fellow Democrats for suggesting that Israel — which has for decades committed human rights abuses, engaged in land dispossession and home demolition, and maintained separate systems of law and a militarized police state against Palestinians — is a “racist state.”

Jayapal walked back her comments after the pile-on, singling out Benjamin Netanyahu’s government for its racist practices instead. Still, Ogles and his colleagues Randy Weber and Jeff Duncan filed a resolution seeking to censure Jayapal for what they said was antisemitism, though the resolution did not name a single instance of Jayapal saying anything negative about Jewish people.

The attacks were familiar. Tlaib — the only Palestinian member of Congress — was attacked last year for supporting an event raising awareness about the Nakba, the series of events beginning in 1948 that led to the mass displacement of Palestinians. The smears massively escalated as she was censured — with the help of 22 Democrats — in November, after she criticized the Israeli government and called for Palestinian liberation.

Omar, likewise, has been subject to constant scrutiny by her own party for her criticism of Israel, accused of antisemitism for allegedly singling Israel out — even though she has been a consistent critic of other human rights-violating governments, from Saudi Arabia and China to El Salvador and Russia. Those attacks paved the way for Republicans to boot her from the Foreign Affairs Committee last February, after they retook control of the House.

“Democrats too often are willing to go along with what are obviously bad-faith smears against other Democrats, whereas Republicans simply don’t give a shit. And that creates this situation where you can easily bait Democrats into this issue repeatedly,” Munayyer said. “That’s a choice that Democrats are making, and they don’t have to make that choice.”

That’s not to mention the Democrats who have made anti-Palestinian remarks themselves, from Rep. Brad Sherman, D-Ill., accusing a Palestinian American of “trying to kill every Jew,” to Rep. Dan Goldman, D-N.Y., discounting the death toll of children killed in Gaza. Beyond Pennsylvania Sen. John Fetterman’s continued insistence on supporting Israel’s mass civilian killing campaign unconditionally, he has repeatedly dismissed and mocked protesters calling for a ceasefire in Gaza or mobilizing voters against Biden’s Gaza policy.

Lara Friedman, president of the Foundation for Middle East Peace, said that the question of acceptable language on Israel and Palestine often comes down to whether the orator is supportive of Israel or not: “It’s never really about what any of them say.”