#they match (platonically) each others freaks

[swizzlemynizzle]

Underneath the Noise - George Clarke

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Masterlist

**smut warning!!!!!!!!! ******* message me if you would like a clean version otherwise read to the *** and stop

Chapter thirteen: Newness

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It was supposed to be a normal Sunday stream. Low stakes. Cozy vibes. George, Chris, Arthur Hill, and Y/N crammed onto the boys’ living room sofa, sipping tea and reacting to the usual chaos the internet had to offer. George’s stream title literally read: “hungover idiots try to function (badly)”.

And yet, somehow, within fifteen minutes of going live, it was trending.

The hoodie was the first clue.

Y/N had shown up in George’s hoodie—oversized, navy, familiar to anyone who watched his streams regularly. She hadn’t even thought about it. She’d grabbed it that morning while slipping out of his room, hair still damp from her shower, and hadn’t taken it off since. It was warm. It smelled like him. She liked how it made her feel—safe, known.

Apparently, so did the viewers.

is she wearing HIS hoodie?? george hasn’t looked at anyone else in 10 minutes they’re sitting SO CLOSENAHHHHHHH WAITTTTTT

The screengrab was inevitable.

A soft moment—Y/N turning to George with a grin mid-laugh, him looking at her like the sun had risen just for him, reaching up without thinking to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

The moment passed in real time.

But online?

It exploded.

Chris was the first to notice. His phone buzzed nonstop in his lap before he finally checked it and groaned loud enough for the mic to pick up.

“Oh, brilliant,” he muttered. “We’ve broken Twitter.”

George blinked, dragging his attention away from Y/N. “What?”

Chris turned the phone around to show them a tweet with nearly 20k likes already. The photo of their little moment. The caption read: “I don’t care if they deny it. This is not platonic.”

Arthur Hill made a soft noise. “You’re trending.”

Y/N looked at George, her heart suddenly loud in her chest. “Are you freaking out?”

He shook his head slowly. “Not unless you are.”

“I’m okay,” she said honestly, surprised to realise it was true.

And then Chris—because he was Chris—looked directly at the camera and said, “Right. Confirm or deny: are they shagging?”

“CHRIS!”

George’s hand found hers beneath the blanket tossed over their legs, fingers curling between hers.

The stream wrapped not long after. They used Arthur’s fake excuse about needing to eat something that wasn’t toast, and shut everything down. The flat was unusually quiet once it was just them again—Chris muttering in the kitchen, Arthur dragging himself off for a nap.

George hovered beside the sofa, eyes flicking to her.

“You okay?” he asked again, softer this time.

“Yeah,” she said. “Just… can we not talk about the internet right now?”

He reached out, took her hand again. “Come with me.”

His bedroom was dim, lit only by the faint blue glow of the computer screens still humming in the corner. He sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling her gently between his legs, hands at her hips.

“You sure you’re alright?” he murmured, looking up at her.

She nodded, brushing her fingers through his hair. “I just want to be here.”

********

This time, the kiss was different. Slower. Less like a match being struck and more like warm honey—melting into something thick and sweet and inevitable.

He slid his hands under the hoodie she still wore, lifting it inch by inch, his palms dragging softly along her skin as it rose. She let him pull it over her head, revealing the tank top and soft shorts she’d thrown on without thinking. He kissed the curve of her shoulder, the side of her neck, like he wasn’t in a rush to get anywhere else.

When she climbed into his lap, straddling him on the bed, he sighed against her mouth like it grounded him.

“I’ve thought about this,” he said, lips brushing hers.

“Yeah?” she whispered.

He nodded, kissing her again—deeper now. “Too much.”

They undressed each other slowly. She peeled his shirt off, traced the line of his collarbone with her mouth. He helped her out of her shorts, eyes dark as they slid down her legs, like he couldn’t believe she was real.

When she lay back, he followed her down, propping himself up on an elbow as his hand moved between them, knuckles brushing over her thigh.

She shivered at the touch, every nerve in her body sparking awake.

His fingers traced over her through her underwear—light, exploratory, like he was still learning her reactions. She whimpered, pressing into his touch, and he murmured something unintelligible, something that sounded like awe.

Then he slipped his hand beneath the fabric.

She gasped as he ran a single finger through her folds, slow and teasing, deliberately light.

“George…”

“I know,” he whispered, eyes flicking up to hers.

He dipped one finger inside her, shallow and slow, just enough to make her hips twitch, then pulled back, circling her clit with a gentle stroke that had her eyes fluttering shut. She was already so wet, slick and warm beneath his touch.

When he pushed two fingers in, curling them just right, her breath caught in her throat.

He set a steady rhythm—deep, deliberate strokes, his palm pressing against her with every movement. She could feel her body tightening already, heat coiling in her stomach like a fuse slowly burning.

“Fuck, George—don’t stop,” she panted, one hand curling around his wrist, the other tangling in the sheets.

He kissed her, slow and open-mouthed, as he continued working her open with maddening control. He watched her the whole time, eyes flicking between her flushed face and the spot where his fingers disappeared into her.

She arched against him, moaning when his thumb found her clit, rubbing soft circles that made her thighs shake.

“Look at me,” he whispered. “I want to see you.”

She opened her eyes, just barely, and the way he looked at her—like she was the only thing in the world that mattered—was enough to tip her over the edge.

Her climax hit hard. Her back arched, a broken cry escaping her lips as she clenched around his fingers, breath stuttering, body trembling under his touch.

He didn’t stop until she’d ridden it all the way through, then gently slid his hand away, kissing her shoulder before looking back into her eyes.

“You okay?” he asked softly, mouth brushing her temple.

She nodded, tugging him down into another kiss. Her legs wrapped around his waist, guiding him closer.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice still wrecked from moaning his name.

He entered her slowly—carefully—eyes locked on hers as her mouth dropped open in a soft gasp.

They moved together with a rhythm that felt like it had been written into their bones. Every movement was intentional—no frantic rush, just that deep, aching need to feel everything. She clung to him like he was the only solid thing in the world, nails dragging down his back, thighs tightening around his hips.

“George,” she breathed, forehead pressed to his.

“Don’t stop.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured, voice barely there. “I’ve got you.”

When they came together, it was heat and breath and whispered names in the dark. A quiet moment stretched after, their hearts still racing, fingers tangled.

He kissed her shoulder, then her collarbone.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Course,” she whispered.

“Will you… be my girlfriend?”

She smiled, brushing his hair back. “I thought I already was.”

He laughed softly, resting his forehead against hers. “Guess I just needed to hear it.”

“You’re mine, George,” she said. “Officially.”

Outside, the internet buzzed.

Inside, they were home.

——-

Taglist:

@madforgeorge

@wherethezoes-at

@sundarksposts

@clarkey4life

@edgyficuselastica

@whistlef0rthechoir

@kneelforloki

@yeahnahalrightfairenough

@rubyskies

@theresglitteronthefloor

@wroetominter

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[cottagedreamy]

They're such a good duo...Pls let's talk about them more.....

[headcanonthings]

Steph: We should all start texting each other like old time explorers Tim: “Dearest friend, I have survived another week. The horrors persist.”

[g3othermal3scapism]

bartylus friendship analysis

[agarafile]

i really hope gem and joel bring the worst out of each other. just a incredibly deranged duo. my favorite characterization for them is they are battle monsters, absolute pvp machines and then they can't decide anything together and are always falling from the rooftop of their base. i need murderous cringefail compilation of them

[bluemoonscape]

Bringing this one out of the drafts to say: Can we take a minute to talk about Taishauna?

It blows me away how so many people in this fandom are so quick to peg them as "platonic soulmates!" when basically every other combination of the girls is accepted as having potentially romantic undertones. Taishauna is one of my favorite pairings. Tai has seen Shauna through everything. They bicker in the pilot but are shown in the wilderness to care deeply for one another despite their misunderstandings.

What about them after Taissa and Van break up? Shauna has lost Jackie and Taissa has lost Van. They've both lost the one person in the world they had the capacity to love so deeply. They don't have much left for anyone else—Shauna can’t even bring herself to love Callie like she should. They're still shown to try with each other even years down the line.

They'll never love each other in the way they loved Jackie and Van, but hey—at least they can understand that. Jeff and Simone are stuck not knowing why their respective spouses are so cold and trying to rationalize it. Tai and Shauna know.

Out of everyone, they know each other best, and after all they went through, that might just be the only comfort they have.

[hesitantsorrows]

Two sides of the same coin ❤️🙏they're both as unadjusted as each other

[3cheers4sweetstupidity]

Besties for the resties core

[onedaykleff]

I was SO wrong for being indifferent to Goro, I was replaying cp77 again and you know V and Goro would be absolute besties

[ihonestlydontknowwhattocallthis]

I don’t know how I’ve only just thought about this

[captorations]

yeah. yeah okay upon reviewing twelve's first two seasons i definitely think he kicks nine out of second place. if only just. and while i acknowledge that ten and donna are objectively the best dynamic i think twelve and clara actually are my personal favorite. when written well they *are* outright better than ten and donna, it's literally just that they can't claim the same consistent quality ten and donna maintained

[gravesung]

@tewwor ( nobara ) — x.

❝ y'know, you're a real badass, kugisaki. i'm glad to have you as a teammate. ❞

[finnslay]

chim's little proud smile when hen is giving her whole "see me" speech T-T i love them

[a-god-in-crime-alley]

I keep coming back to the intimacy of trackers. Maybe, while one of Tim’s siblings is eavesdropping, Danny brings up how he’s been wanting to get his ears pierced. How it wouldn’t be strange if his boyfriend got him jewelry and if it just so happened there was a tracker in that jewelry…

And Tim, breathless, asks if Danny would really let him tag him with a tracker. With Danny returning, in an unintentionally flirty tone, that he wouldn’t mind if Tim wanted to use a tracker that was…subdermal.

And they really are just talking about trackers. It’s not Their fault it all sounds like innuendo.

The sibling listening in wants to die. They did NOT need to know this stuff about their brother.

Danny, working as a cashier: Can I help you?

Tim half-deranged: Please I just want a cup of coffee

Danny squinted, then pulled out a binder: I'm sorry, sir, but you are on the Don't Serve Coffee list. I can offer you some tea instead-

Tim: NO. THIS IS THE FIFTH PLACE. BRUCE CAN'T OWN YOU ALL!

Danny leaning in to whisper: Look, man, I can't give you coffee under the cameras. Meet me in the back alley in twenty minutes and I'll get you a coffee. Bring Cash.

Tim: how much? Five hundred, six hundred or hell even a thousand? I'll bring whatever you want.

Danny: Chill dude, it's a cup of coffee. Three dollars is fine.

Tim: It's not just any coffee! It's my favorite brand and Bruce bought them out just to make sure they wouldn't sell to me anymore!

Danny: okay okay, this coffee means a lot to you. I get it. Twenty minutes alright?

Jason three weeks later in Bat cave: Tim's on drugs! I've caught him trading cash for small containers in a shady alley six times. We need an intervention.

Dick: What?! I thought that was his boyfriend!

Bruce: I also thought that was Tim boyfriend but if it's a drug dealer we have to help him.

Tim hiding in the shadows: shit.

Tim texting Danny: If anyone asks your my secret boyfriend who been making me teas in allies

Danny: who the hell would believe that? But I've had a boring week, so yeah, I'm down to be a pretend boyfriend.

[venushorned-a]

do you ever get the feeling we're always getting...... paired off and..... separated from the rest? -oh there's still a little fire over there. we should probably put that out.

Gossamer glanced up at the fire in question, watching the small patches smolder and smoke as the grass, healthy and dewy, choked out the flames. Beneath her, a goblin was sputtering and gurgling as he drowned in his own blood; the evidence of their ambush had burned out, and the last witness was soon to be recently deceased.

“I hadn't noticed.” She wiped her hands in a patch of clean grass before standing to survey the full scope of the damage. Two dead goblin raiders, a warg, a bugbear scout, and a burning barn. Well. It had been a barn. “Just make a good team, I guess.”

As for the fire...

“Make yourself useful, then, pretty boy.”

[the-headless-horsedude]

they're judging you