elijah hewson
ryan mcmahon
josh jenkinson
robert keating / bobby skeetz
steve harrington
jonathan byers
robin buckley
finn wolfhard
joe keery / djo
jj maybank
alfie buttle / ab
arthur frederick / arthurtv
george clarkey
dallas winston
sodapop curtis
darry curtis
top 3s!
films:
stand by me (1986, dir. rob reiner)
this is england (2006, dir. shane meadows)
sinners (2025, dir. ryan coogler)
books:
frankenstein (1818, auth. mary shelley)
normal people (2018, auth. sally rooney)
the picture of dorian gray (1890, auth. oscar wilde)
songs:
motorcycle boy (2024, cred. fontaines d.c.)
little things (2025, cred. inhaler)
dream brother (1994, cred. jeff buckley)
request: currently on bad terms with my dad for his behaviour towards me could you do comfort when her dad takes her and alfie out and the whole time he’s making sly comments on the way shes dress or how much she’s eating and its the starts of alfie and readers relationship so he feels awkward saying anything but the whole time he’s being horrible to her and they go home and she cries how badly her famiky mistreats her? love you!
content: established relationship , swearing , bodyshaming , angst w/ comfort , annoying dad
notes: honestly, whipped this up in about an hour so i don’t know if it’s the best of my work, but i wanted to get something out before tea so here we are! also ive never had a poor relationship with my dad so i apologise if i didn’t do that experience much justice ☹️☹️
wc: 1,672
FAMILY DINNERS WERE always interesting. Someone tended to say something inappropriate or unnecessary that resulted in a whole lot of tension. You honestly didn’t mind it too much, as long as you weren’t the one involved.
It was your birthday, so you were hoping that you'd have been safe from any judgemental comments or snide remarks, but the opposite happened.
It only pushed you into the limelight more.
You’d been dating your boyfriend for around six months now, and it was going so well that it didn’t need to take a lot of convincing your parents in order for him to tag along.
It was odd that you had to even ask to invite him to your birthday meal, but that’s just the way your family operated.
They were all very warm to him, thankfully, asking him questions about his life, his job, his own family. You were constantly eyeing your dad and uncle, mentally willing them to keep their mouths shut and not say anything toward Alfie that would’ve made you both want to shrivel up into a ball and die.
So far, they’d been pretty well behaved, but when your boyfriend started going on about his gym journey, your dad just had to open his mouth.
“Sounds great, lad. Think you’d get our one in there with you?” He nodded in your direction, “Could do with a bit of shaping up, couldn’t you, sweetheart?”
You paused halfway through cutting a piece of chicken, glancing up at your dad, who was now hysterically laughing with his brother.
“Thanks, dad.” You grumbled.
“I’m only saying! You know, Alfie’s very well built, you’ve got a bit of meat on your bones. I’m just interested as to how he feels about that.”
Alfie shrugged, “I don’t care.”
“You don’t?” Your dad seemed to be surprised, “Interesting.”
“I’d only be upset if she got unhealthy, and even then that would be out of concern. She looks great.” He continued to stand up for you.
“Lads lying to their birds is normal now?” Your uncle guffawed, causing your dad to shriek in laughter.
Not only were you the butt of the joke, but their obnoxious chuckling was turning heads from adjacent tables, and you could feel numerous eyes on you.
“Oh, leave her alone.” Your aunt scoffed at them, “She’s happy. Alfie’s happy. Just quit it, you two.”
The meal progressed, and their comments did halt eventually as they turned their focus to the football game playing on the massive screen behind you.
Alfie’s hand found its way to your thigh, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the skin exposed by the short length of your dress. You gave him a glance partnered with a shy smile, to which he squeezed your thigh in response.
What came as a surprise was the large, two-tier cake heading your way after the lights in the place dimmed.
Your family burst into a chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’ and heat rushed to your cheeks at the overwhelming amount of tension as even other families in the restaurant began joining in.
Your mum was filming and taking pictures that she would undoubtedly overwhelm you with after the meal.
The cake was beautiful, with white frosting as the base and baby pink piping along the edges of each tier, including a perfect cursive spelling of your name and age on the top.
“Make a wish, Reader!”
You grinned, closing your eyes before blowing gently, whisking the flames away in the hopes that your wish would come true.
Your dad rounded the table to pluck the candles out of the cake and roll them to the side, and then gestured for your mum to snap a couple photos of the two of you.
It was sweet for a moment, his arm around your shoulder, lips to your cheek and muttering ‘happy birthday to you, before firmly planting his hand on the back of your head and slamming it down into the cake.
You jolted up from your seat immediately after, face covered in frosting as your entire family laughed at you.
The hair that you’d spent all morning putting into pin curls was dirtied, and the makeup you’d taken two hours out of your day to perfect was smeared in a sugar sweet layer that felt like a punch in the face.
You didn't waste another minute.
You swiped your phone off of the table and shoved past him as he tried to hug you again.
“Oh, Reader, don’t be like that!” He jeered.
You continued to ignore him, not letting him turn you into a hysterical puppet anymore. It was your birthday, and if no one was going to treat it as such, you’d go and celebrate it on your own.
The cold air might’ve been harsh, but it was more of a warm hug than you would’ve gotten if you’d stayed inside the restaurant.
Biting back the tears that burned brutally behind your eyes and refusing to cry within the vicinity of the people at fault, you unlocked your phone and went to the Uber app.
You didn’t expect anyone to follow you out, but when the doors opened and Alfie was at your side, it made a lot of sense.
“Let’s go home, yeah?” He muttered, choosing not to bring up everything right now.
“Not my home.” You swallowed thickly.
“No, we can go to mine.” He smiled softly, bringing his thumb to your face and wiping the icing from under your eyes.
In his car, Alfie pulled a packet of tissues from his glovebox, helping to remove as much of the icing from your face as possible without causing a mess everywhere else or ruining the makeup underneath.
Removing the icing from your fake eyelashes was going to be a chore, and you were fuming as you ran your fingers over them, feeling a few of them slip out of place even though you only got them done a day before.
Of course no one from your family came to check on you, you certainly didn’t anticipate seeing your dad or uncle, but the fact that your own mother hadn’t even bothered to check up on you before you and your boyfriend drove off was disheartening, to say the least.
You managed to hold yourself together in the car, but it was like the silence of The Grotto hit you like a freight train and everything that had happened that night came to you at once.
Your shoulders shook with heavy, heavy sobs while Alfie bustled around you, taking your jacket and birthday sash to place on his dining room table.
“Come on, let’s sit.” He sighed, pulling you onto his lap on the sofa and wrapping his arms around your waist.
Your legs bracketed his thighs, but it wasn’t sexual in the slightest, nor did it feel that way.
His hands splayed across your back, running back and forth in soothing strokes in a hope to regulate your breathing and emotions.
Your choked cries filled his living area in a way that hung like a dark grey cloud, infecting his happy space in a way he wished would go away. But he would never blame you. It wasn’t your fault that you were dealt the very unfortunate card of having a shitty family circle, but he’d decided to take it as his responsibility to fix it all for you.
If your entire family needed blocking on your phone, he’d do it. If they needed a stern speaking to, he’d do it (albeit shakily).
Tonight was his first time meeting everyone, and he was positive that he didn’t want to experience them as a whole ever again. Certainly not if they were going to make a mockery of you like that again.
His heart hurt knowing that he couldn’t say anything then and there in fear of saying the wrong thing without your permission and getting you into all sorts of trouble.
“You’re stunnin’, angel.” Alfie muttered, pressing kisses to the bare skin of your shoulder, “I promise you, you are. You shouldn’t listen to whatever shit they come out with.”
“It’s just so annoying. Every time we go to dinner, they poke fun at someone.” You sniffled, wiping your cheeks, “But it’s my fucking birthday, why couldn’t they just give it a rest?”
“I know.” He hummed, “Bet they wouldn’t like it if someone started having a go at them.”
“God, don’t even.” You laughed wetly, sitting back on his knees, “I tried once and I got made out to be the devil. Fuckin’ double standards.”
“Hm.” Alfie pursed his lips nodding, “How about tomorrow, me and you go out? We can go do something you wanna do, without spending time with those fucking dickheads— And I know they’re your family, but they were dead wrong for that.”
“I know.” You croaked, “And that sounds nice.”
“Yeah? Just me and you.”
You nodded, resting your cheek on his collar bone and sniffling.
“Sorry about your shirt, there’s makeup all on it.”
“‘S alright, as long as you’re okay, darlin’.”
And it made a change.
Because nothing about you ever really mattered to your family. You’d have been told you were ‘too dramatic’ or ‘kicking up a fuss over nothing’.
In the six months you’d been dating Alfie, he’d never once made you feel like a burden. He made you feel loved. He’d done what your parents hadn’t been able to do your entire life, in six months.
summary: you and alfie enjoy a nice evening in as a first date
content: swearing , fluff , kissing , single mum!reader
notes: i don’t know what’s being going on recently but i really don’t like anything ive been writing, however i am aware that i have to post for you guys so ill suck it up! xx
wc: 3,904
YOU’D BEEN SEEING Alfie for a few weeks now. There were constant back and forth messages between the two of you on Instagram before he finally plucked up the courage to actually ask for your number. Since then, he’d been non-stop offering you dates to meet up, either him coming to you, or him willing to pay for your train ticket back down. And so far, you’d gotten nowhere.
For every date he gave, you made an excuse, either one that was true or one that was just a cover up.
It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him again, because you really did, you were just nervous.
You hadn’t bothered seeing anyone romantically since you and Oscar’s dad called it off, so there was that, but there was also the fact that he was an internet star, and you were just … you. Also, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit iffy about the fact your five year old son was a fan of the guy you’d been flirting with via Instagram dm’s.
alfie: Hey x
alfie: How you been? x
you: okay thank you, you? x
alfie: Yea all good x
alfie: Missed your face x
You smiled at the message, snapping a quick picture of yourself sat up in bed with the light of your laptop illuminating your face.
alfie: 😍
alfie: Guess where I am this weekend x
you: mmmmmm probably lounging around you apartment doing nish? x
alfie: lol rude x
alfie: Nah I’m up north, chilling for a bit. You free? x
you: i dunno x
alfie: Is Oscar at his dads? x
you: yeah x
alfie: Do you want to see me? x
Your thumb and first finger fiddled with your lower lip, picking at any loose skin.
Of course you wanted to see him, you thought about it a lot, you just weren’t sure you were ready to do all that in public. At least not until you were official.
you: yeah ofc i do x
alfie: Alright then, so I’ll see you on Saturday x
The bubble signifying that you were typing appeared before disappearing again.
you: can we stay in? x
You then started receiving a call from the man, so you paused your TV show and answered.
“Hi Alfie.”
“Y’alright, darlin’?”
“Yeah, I’m okay.” You hummed, keeping your voice quiet.
“You just put Oscar to bed?” He guessed.
“Yeah, he was being a right nightmare about it.”
“Wonder who he gets it from.”
You scoffed, pretending to be offended, “Rude!”
“I’m only messing. So, this weekend?”
“Yeah.”
“Are we on or …”
“I mean, yeah, I’d just prefer it if we stayed inside.” You said, sandwiching your phone between your ear and shoulder so you could fiddle with your nails.
“How come? I’ll do whatever you wanna do, but i figured you’d wanna go for a walk or something.”
“It’s mainly ‘coz, like, you’re actually somebody. And I don’t fancy the chances of you getting noticed while we’re on a date or whatever.”
“That’s fair.” He hummed, his voice slightly muffled, so you assumed he was toying with his bottom lip, “Alright, we can stay in. I’ll get the train to you and stuff in the morning— You dropping Oscar off—“
“Friday night, yeah.” You grinned at the thought of him knowing your schedule.
“Sounds good. I’ll see— Can you stay up?”
“Alfie,” You whined, feeling bad for having to hang up, “I have work tomorrow.”
“Come on. Please?”
You glanced at the time on your laptop, pursing your lips before responding, “You’ve got half an hour.”
And unfortunately, that half an hour flew by far too quickly.
You still had to keep your voice down, and you tried not to wet yourself from laughing too hard every time he made a quick, snappy joke.
There was a very empty feeling in your heart as you called it a night and rested your phone down on your nightstand before snuggling up under your covers.
You partially wondered if there would ever be a day where you didn’t have to do that.
Where ‘calling it a night’ would still result in being in each other's presence.
It seemed that the god of time really was on your side this week, because before you knew it, Saturday had arrived, and you were sat on your sofa, anxiously awaiting Alfie’s arrival.
You’d offered to pick him up from the train station, but he’d claimed that he didn’t want to give you any excess hassle. You were actually grateful for that upon reflection, because you’d given up cleaning your house after Oscar had gone, so you dedicated your morning to that.
The doorbell rang, spiking your heart rate tenfold. You’d been so lost in your own head that you hadn’t even noticed his taxi pull up outside.
If you tucked your hair behind your ears any more times, you were sure they would become greasy, and the last thing you wanted to look for Alfie was unkempt.
Upon opening the door, you found him standing there in all his glory, all beautiful, 6’1 of him right on your doorstep holding a bouquet of pink tulips. He was visibly nervous, and had obviously been trying to peer through the windows before you opened the door. You hadn’t meant to keep him waiting so long he thought he had the wrong house.
“Hi.” You whispered.
His face practically lit up at the sight of you, “Hi, y’alright?”
“I’m good, you?” You stepped to the side, letting him in.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m alright.”
“How was the train journey here?”
“Bit of a nightmare, you know. First one got cancelled, had to go to another platform, then some guy was acting like a prat on the carriage and got kicked off.” Alfie rambled to you, completely forgetting to even remove his shoes and coat.
You held your hands out, “Do you want me to take your jacket?”
“Oh, shit, yeah, sorry, forgot.” He laughed nervously before thrusting the bouquet in your direction a little too enthusiastically, “Sorry. Um, these are for you.”
You giggled a little at his overzealousness and took them a grateful smile, “They’re beautiful, thank you.”
He shrugged his jacket off, also handing that to you.
Hanging it up on the coatrack, you then moved to the dining area to sort the flowers into a vase and briefly heard him shout out about where his shoes should go, to which you told him the entryway is fine.
Back in the living room, he was leaning against the back of the sofa, awkwardly standing there like he didn’t know whether to get comfortable or put his shit back on and leave.
“You can sit if you’d like.” You hummed, plopping yourself down on the sofa yourself.
“Oh, yeah, cheers.” He smiled, placing himself beside you and crossing an ankle over his knee. He looked around briefly before turning back to you, “Nice place.”
You snorted, shaking your head, “It’s a shithole.”
“Nah, it’s nice.” He frowned.
“Compared to your massive London apartment?” You scoffed.
“Yeah, but it’s not like you need a big gaff. This is good for you and Oscar. I like what you’ve done with it.”
“Made it as homely as possible.” You shrugged.
“How is he?”
“He’s good!” You chimed, excitably talking about your son, “I didn’t tell him you were coming over this weekend, he would’ve been upset to miss it. Also might’ve blabbed his mouth to his dad.”
“That bad?” Alfie’s eyebrows quirked up.
You hummed, thinking for a moment, “Not really. I’d just … y’know, rather not have him know.”
“Yeah, I get that.” He nodded, “You look good, by the way.”
“Oh, thank you.” You became a little flustered, looking down at the half-arsed outfit you’d put together.
A white baby-tee and a pair of grey Adidas joggers really wasn’t your best performance of creative expression through clothing, but you didn’t want to put too much effort in and come across as too desperate.
Thankfully, Alfie was on somewhat of the same page as you, wearing grey joggers himself and a white t-shirt.
Coincidental co-ordination.
“We’re matching.” You verbalised your thoughts, gesturing to your outfits.
“Ah, yeah!” He grinned, “It’s meant to be, innit.”
“Do you wanna watch tellie?” You handed him the remote.
“Uh, yeah, sure. What do you wanna watch?”
With a shrug, you gave him an honest answer, “I’ve only got Netflix, so.”
“D’you want me to log into my prime?”
Your face fell, “No. No, no, it’s okay, don’t worry. Sorry about that.”
“Oi, c’mere.” He muttered, beckoning you closer and slinging an arm over the back of your sofa.
With a bashful smile, you shuffled closer, tucking yourself into his side with a cheek to his chest.
“Relax, girl. You’re bare nervous.”
“And you’re not?” You guffawed.
“Yeah, I’m shitting it, but this is your house. You should be the comfortable one.”
“Okay, sorry.” You muttered, tucking your legs up closer to your chest and getting as cozy as possible.
“Better.”
“Yeah. Also, you shouldn’t be shittin’ it. I’m really happy to have you here.”
“I’m happy to be here, been trying for months.” He snorted.
You frowned, feeling a little guilty, “I know, I’m sorry.”
“‘S alright, no need to apologise.” He moved his hand from the back of the sofa to the top of your thigh.
It was actually dangerously high up and to the side, bordering on the curve of your ass, but you weren’t disturbed in the slightest. It was rather comforting actually, and you felt slightly more at ease.
He did end up logging into his Amazon Prime account, even though you didn’t watch a show on there (finding yourselves back on Netflix in the end) but he told you it was okay because at least now you had another platform to watch more shows on.
It was a very sweet moment, and you were reluctant to accept it, even going as far as to try and fight for the remote back to log out of his account, his strength trumped yours, and you ended up in a rather compromising position.
You were surprisingly out of breath, having put up quite a big fight. You found your hands acting on impulse, stroking down from his shoulders to his chest, resting your palm flat over his heart.
“Your heart’s racing.” You whispered breathlessly.
Alfie’s Adam’s apple bobbed right in your line of sight while he swallowed thickly and blinked slowly.
“I know.” He murmured, “Just from, like, fighting you off.”
“Mmm.” You nodded as if you believed him, an amused look on your face as you teased him with a smirk, “Totally not ‘coz you’re on top of me.”
Without any hesitation, he followed up with a response, “You look so fucking beautiful.”
Your hair was splayed out around your head like a halo, eyes wide with dilated pupils and a soft smile that had his heart thundering in a way that made him feel every beat and pulse around his entire body.
Not to mention your hands were on him. Not casually either. They were there purposefully.
“I’m sure I’ve looked better.” You attempted to play cool, ignoring the way your stomach was doing front flips galore beneath your skin.
He shook his head, “You look amazing all the time.”
A moment of silence struck the room, the both of you revelling in the atmosphere that was made up purely by each other. His breath hitting your face. Your gradually-declining pants filling the air.
You thought he fit in pretty well in your home.
“Reader, can I kiss you?”
There couldn’t have been a more perfect time.
You grinned, nodding as he lowered his head to yours.
Everything seemed to slot together like your bodies were meant to be this way. Your noses never bumped in a way that caused awkward laughter, your hand fit the curve of the side of his face perfectly, and his lips matched the pace of your own instantaneously.
When he pulled back, he smiled against your mouth pressing another kiss to the corner of it before uttering,
“Have you had strawberry gum?”
You mhm’ed, “This morning, why?”
“Can smell and taste it.”
“Oh.” Heat rushed to your cheeks, “Sorry.”
“No, don’t apologise. It’s better than, like, egg, or something.”
Whether he was nervous rambling or was genuinely just an over-explainer, you couldn’t tell, but it made you burst out into laughter, patting his shoulders.
“Sorry, sorry.” He chuckled, one hand leaving the cushioning of the sofa beneath you to scratch at the bridge of his nose. “Have I ruined the vibe?”
“Mmm, not unless you make it up to me pretty quickly.”
His mood switched at that, and he brought his head down once more, interlocking your lips. The sound of the show playing on your TV blurred into fuzzy nothingness, the only thing on your mind being the sound of your lips smacking together and the feeling of his hand on your body.
His tongue dragged against the seam of your lips, teasing you with what was to come and urging you to part them just a little bit more. You did, as you did the same with your legs, allowing him more accommodation for his size.
Alfie lowered himself a little more, giving you the room to hook your legs over his hips and cross your ankles at his lower back.
He groaned, moving his hand from your waist to the side of your thigh, squeezing the flesh in his large paw before proceeding to knead it.
A pleased hum slipped from your throat into his own, causing him to break the kiss from the strength of his smile before containing himself and going back in.
It was a loud bang from the TV startled you both out of your tongue-tangling and caused your forehead to smack against his.
“Ow!” You winced, flattening your palm over your forehead and rubbing the surface of it.
“Shit, are you okay? I’m so sorry.” He sat back on his heels, pulling you with him.
“That was kinda my fault.” You sniggered, pulling your hand away, “You’re a good kisser.”
“Cheers, you too.” He replied a little awkwardly, getting comfortable again.
“I’ve just realised I didn’t offer you a drink. D’you want one?”
“You got any white monster?”
You blinked at him, “Alfie, I live in a house with myself and a five year old. No, I don’t have white monster.”
“Saw a corner shop on the way. Wanna go for a walk?”
Again, the anxious thoughts of him being noticed was gnawing at the inside of your head. Not only was that something to take into consideration, but also the proximity that the corner shop was to your house.
“Oi,” He muttered, nudging under your chin with his hand, “What’s on your mind?”
“What if you get noticed?” You muttered.
“I think you’re vastly overestimating how many fans I have, darlin’.” Alfie snorted, “And if I do, then I’ll make sure they’re respectful about it, yeah?”
He held your hand the whole way, fingers interlocked.
It was casual, but it still had your heart thundering in your chest. The last thing you needed right now was to trip and fall on an uneven part of pavement.
Thankfully, that didn’t happen, and you ended up grabbing a drink for yourself in the shop.
You pulled your phone out to pay for it, but Alfie’s was already hovering over the card reader. A disappointed look was shot his way, to which he shrugged with a cocky smile and handed you your drink.
There was something deeply nostalgic about the whole trip.
It was barely much, literally a quick pop to shop, but it had you feeling like a teenager again on her first date, something you never really got to experience when you were with Oscar’s dad.
While it did feel nice having someone else pay for you, you felt awfully guilty and offered to pay him back, to which Alfie shut you down with a scoff.
“Reader, it’s four quid. It’s not that deep.”
It was to you — any amount of money was that deep — but you managed to let it go for his sake.
Back at home, you resumed watching your show.
It was easier to get more comfortable with him now, and he easily accepted the opportunity to have your head in his lap. His fingers carded through your hair, occasionally taking sips out of the can that you thought was much too big.
You knew it was all part of his shtick, but it was a ridiculous amount of caffeine in one concentration.
The sound of his stomach rumbling by your ear was what told you it was probably time to start cooking something up for dinner. When you proposed the question to him, he only shrugged, obviously not wanting to be a burden with his choice.
“I can dooo … pasta? Orrrr burgers— I’m actually really good at making those.”
“What type of pasta?”
“Spag bol?”
“Never had it.”
You shot up from his lap immediately, “You’ve never had spag bol?!”
He laughed at the mortification on your face, “Nah.”
“Right, I’m making that.” You said in a huff, pushing yourself off of the sofa and making your way to the kitchen.
“Am I allowed to join?”
“I mean, the kitchen’s not massive, but if you wanna.” You replied.
You really weren’t lying.
Alfie had to manoeuvre himself around you as you reached for pots, just to make it to the back end of the kitchen where there was a tiny kitchen counter with bar stools around it.
The laminate flooring was coming up in the corners, something you clearly didn’t have the time to indulge in getting fixed, and the counters could’ve done with being renewed, for there were a few knife dents and stains that you’d likely tried everything to remove. But he didn’t say anything.
The pair of you made light chatter as you cooked.
He watched every little thing you did, the way you moved with ease around the kitchen, preparing a meal for him that the two of you would end up sharing.
When it was time to drain the pasta, you got a wave of hot steam in your face, making you rear back and laugh contagiously.
“You alright?” Alfie got out through chuckles.
“Yeah. Fuckin’ell.” You wafted your free hand in front of your face, shaking the colander until most of the water was done.
Alfie took the liberty to go through your cupboards until he found the right one, grabbing a couple plates for you to serve up in.
“Making yourself at home already.” You smirked, making sure he had a little more than you did.
“Just thought I’d help out.” He shrugged.
At the dinner table, the first thing he commented on was that it felt weird.
“How so?” You frowned.
“I actually just can’t remember the last time I sat at a table and ate, like, with someone. Even when I go to my mums we sit on the sofa. It’s nice.” He explained, “Also, this is really good.” He held up a forkful of spaghetti and meat.
Your face lit up at the praise, “Yeah?”
He hummed through a mouthful, nodding.
“I’m glad you like it.”
You never really cooked for anyone else other than you and Oscar, so when you did, it was really just the same meals on repeat week after week until he got bored of it and came home from school whining that his friends had better dinners, so to hear someone else approve of your cooking caused your heart to swell a little.
Once the meal was finished, before you could even say anything, he was whisking the plates away in the kitchen and rinsing them out.
“Alfie, stop!” You cackled, trying to get around him, “Let me do it!”
“No, you’ve done enough today.”
“I’ve cooked dinner.” You scoffed.
“Yeah, exactly. Just relax, girl.”
You tried one more time to get a hand on the plate, but he bent himself over the sink, sticking his ass out and nudging you back with it, causing you to burst into hearty laughter.
“There’s no way you just … bummed me out of the way … in my own house!” You managed to talk through intakes of breath and laughing.
“Move, man!” He exclaimed, catching onto a case of the giggles and sticking his foot out, resting it on your stomach to keep you back.
“Alfie!”
“Reader, stop!” He snorted.
Eventually, the laughter died down and you ended up back on the sofa again, cuddled up with a blanket.
It was hot in your house, and Alfie was sweating behind you but didn’t want to say anything, because you looked far too adorable and comfortable pressed up against his chest.
But when you felt his sweat sticking to you back you had to say something.
“Are you too hot?”
“What? Nah.” He cleared his throat.
Lifting up his arm to ruffle his hair was a mistake, because you saw the humongous sweat patch on his shirt.
“Alfie! Why didn't you say anything!” You scoffed, peeling the blanket off of you and folding it up.
“Nah, nah, it’s alright.
“You’re sweating.” You blanked.
“Yeah? It’s fine.”
Even his cheeks were red, and you rolled your eyes at his stubbornness, proceeding to push the blanket away.
“Reader, don’t, man.”
“It’s just a blanket!”
“I feel bad! Should I take my shirt off instead?”
You swallowed thickly in a way you hoped wasn’t audible.
“I-If you want.”
He sat forwards, reaching back and peeling the white material over his head before dropping it to the floor beside his feet.
“Get your blanket back.” He gestured to it.
“God.” You groaned dramatically at him, “So bossy.”
“Nah, you just look mad cute with it.”
Your cheeks flushed again and you got comfortable once more with his bare skin against your back.
This was a different level of intimacy to cooking dinner in the same room and eating it at the same table. This was borderline skin to skin contact on a first date.
Your heart felt like it was in your throat, and when his hand came around your waist, you thought you were about to throw it up.
His thumb stroked over the exposed skin of your stomach, “Comfy?” His voice rumbled down your ear.
You hummed, nodding and trying to focus on the tellie.
He pressed a passive kiss to your shoulder before settling back.
You weren’t sure what made you fall asleep so quickly, but you were out like a light and that left Alfie awake.
On his own.
In your house.
As much as he wanted to get up and double check that all the doors were locked, he really didn’t want to risk disturbing you.
He hoped you wouldn’t kill him for leaving all the lights on (even though it was only a standing lamp in the corner and two wall lights either side of the archway leading to the dining room) and if it wracked up a hefty bill, he didn’t have any qualms about putting some money towards it.
Right now, all that mattered was you being in his arms, eyes shut and lips parted softly by sleep.
request: could you write something about george doing a platform roulette and is suuuper drunk and starts flirting with this girl in a bar they are in and the others go home and he stays there with her all night and is like super touchy and stuff, and then they go back to her flat…and then girlie wants to have sex but george says he doesn’t want do it when they are both not sober but he stays over anyway and is so soft and gentle, but then in the morning they fuck anyway
content: alcohol & intoxication , swearing , making out
notes: haven’t posted a george fic in a while! also i’m aware that the request asked for smut however i’ll be doing that in a part two for those who want to just enjoy some george fluff 💗 honestly this feels very og ukytblr fanfic i kinda like it 🤭🤭
wc: 2,443
A GROUP NIGHT out had swiftly turned into a solo mission as everyone wandered off to do their own things. No one was too drunk, so it wasn’t like there were any safety concerns, and each person at least had another.
Excluding you.
You didn’t mind too much, because they were getting to be a little too rowdy for your liking.
The bar you’d found yourself in was surprisingly quiet considering the time of night, and the music that was being played was just barely above conversation level, meaning you could actually hear everyone around you.
There was a group of boys occupying a large table, and they had some sort of camera crew surrounding them.
You couldn’t decipher whether they were filming some sort of documentary or just YouTubers, but judging based off of the drunkenness of some of them, you were inclined to go with the latter.
Perhaps if you were a little more sober, you would’ve been able to make out their faces and figure out just who each of them were, but even as one of them began approaching your barstool, you didn’t recognise them.
“Hello.”
“Oh, hi.” You lowered your glass back to the sticky bar top.
“I’m Arthur.”
“Nice to meet you.” You nodded, a little taken aback as he reached a hand out.
You shook it, amused at the formality of his greeting. “I’m Reader.”
“Lovely, um, my friend George,” Arthur’s words were slurred, and he looked over his shoulder, pointing to a very attractive man with a curly mullet, “He thinks you’re really beautiful and was wondering if he could buy you a drink.”
“I didn’t realise we were fifteen and needed our friends to ask for us.” You quipped, tilting your head.
Arthur held his hands out, fingers a little bent, “Oh, you want him to come? I can tell him.”
You nodded.
“Okay.”
Arthur walked back to the table, and you briefly witnessed George hiss something threatening at his friend through gritted teeth before trying to pluck up the courage to approach you.
You found his lack of confidence in himself astounding, because he truly was one of the most beautiful men you’d ever seen. You were contemplating going over there yourself until he finally walked towards you.
“Um, hello, I’m so sorry about him,” George started off, “I didn’t ask him to do that at all.”
You chuckled slightly at his panicked apology, “That’s okay.”
“What did he say to you?”
“He said that you think I’m really beautiful and you want to buy me a drink.” You relayed back.
“Yeah,” He scratched the back of his head, “Could I?”
“Sure.” You nodded, quickly downing what was left in your glass, which wasn’t much.
“Any drink of choice?”
You told him what you’d just had and he ordered another for you.
“Are you on your own?” He asked before sliding up onto the stool next to you.
“Yeah, I was out with my mates but we all went off separately. What about you?”
“We’re doing a platform roulette.”
“Oh, wow, so you’re not local?”
“No, we all live in London.”
”Gosh, long way.” You hummed, thanking the bartender as she delivered your drink to you, “Are you going back tonight?”
“I think so? I’m not really sure, it’s for my friend’s YouTube channel.”
You perked up at that, “I thought that’s what you were doing! With all the cameras and stuff.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He nodded, “Have you had a nice night?”
“Yeah, I have!” You smiled, “We were going from bar to bar earlier, some girls leaving our workplace so we thought we’d send her off with a lovely night out.”
“Oh, that’s fun.”
The conversation between the two of you continued to flow beautifully. There was no awkward silence or eye contact that left you afraid of him coming on too strong with an audacious kiss, nor was the touch that you shared occasionally making you want to back off and sit on the opposite side of the room.
Your fingers would graze every now and then, and even when you lowered your hand to our lap, he reached out to hold onto it. It was a delicate grasp that didn’t threaten you, in fact, it made you feel comfortable.
His thumb ever so gently stroked over your knuckles as your chatter continued.
You also ended up getting progressively more drunk until you were both laughing and flirting your words, leaning into each other far more than before.
At one point, you could’ve sworn his breath was fanning your neck, and your lips were a horsehair level of thin away from interlocking, but you managed to find the will to pull back and not neck on with the bloke you just met in a public area.
It seemed like your time was about to be cut short as one of his mates came over.
“George, we’re gonna get going mate. You coming?”
“Uhhh …” He looked to you, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue before glancing back to his friend, “Nah, I’ll stay. She’s quite drunk, and I want to make sure she gets home properly.”
“Are you sure? We can probably take a detour to drop her home.”
“Yeah, it’s alright. I’ll sort a hotel or something.” George nodded.
“Alright, see you. Message us in the morning.”
“Will do.”
Once the early hours of the morning hit, the bar began slightly hinting at them wanting you to leave.
Stumbling to your feet, you collapsed into George’s arms before finding your footing.
“Sorry!” You gasped for air, face screwed up in amusement, “God, sorry.”
“It’s alright. Are you okay?” He chuckled, keeping a hand around your wrist so that he was always there as he ushered you out of the bar.
“Perfect.” You whispered breathlessly, staring at him.
The air hit you, and it wasn’t as cold as you anticipated, but you supposed that was part on parcel due to your lack of judgement considering there was still a heatwave occurring.
“Um,” You swallowed thickly, trying to block out the sober part of you that was telling you your next question was about to be really stupid.
“Do you wanna come back to mine?”
“I mean, I wasn’t gonna let you go back on your own.” He said.
“No, but, like,” You cleared your throat, “Do you wanna stay the night? Saves you buying a hotel.”
“Oh!” He seemed slightly shocked, eyebrows jerking up before his face relaxed and a pleased smile appeared, “Yeah, I’d love to.”
You nodded, turning on your phone and just about managing to call for an Uber through your bleary vision that you only had the alcohol to blame for.
The pair of you had managed to get very comfortable around each other, even going as far to have his arms resting around your shoulders from behind as you stood on the curb, waiting for your taxi to arrive.
It was nice.
It felt natural.
His thumbs moved up and down, stroking rhythmically over the bare skin of your arms while his chin rested on the top of your head, breathing in the scent of your shampoo.
The streets were somewhat crowded, mainly full of Uni students in their early twenties, off their faces and barely standing up straight while stumbling down the road back to their accommodation (or maybe even the next bar).
George helped you into the back of the Uber when it pulled up in front of you, and you managed to slur your address to the driver.
Again, you were comfortably cuddled up, sitting with his arms around you and your head tilted to lay on his shoulder.
The radio played quietly in the back as you toyed with George’s fingers in your lap.
This might’ve been the best outcome of the night, and it certainly beat going home alone to your apartment and crashing on the sofa because you were too inebriated to make it to your bedroom.
George’s presence was warming, and it didn’t leave you feeling creeped out or pressurised. His eyes were welcoming and kind, his arms even more so, and you found yourself feeling somewhat at home within them.
On top of that, he was just gorgeous. You were sure that you’d reiterated that to him a good handful of times throughout the night, but you had no recollection of any of them.
Regardless of how attractive and charming he was, he was actually really handy to have around because you most certainly wouldn’t have made it up the stairs of your apartment building had he not been around to support you.
You also probably wouldn’t have made it into the small square of what you called home, because all your keys started blurring together in the palm of your hand until he took them from you and opened the door.
He locked it behind you, helping you remove your shoes before doing the same with his own and hanging up his coat on the scarcely populated rack beside your door.
Seeing him in your home, looking so at ease within your space caused your heart to flutter a little, and your brain to go fuzzy with a desperate need you hadn’t experienced in a while, and honestly, had given up on ever feeling again.
“George.” You gulped, staring at him.
“You okay?” He hummed, cupping the sides of your face gently.
It was probably intended to be completely innocent on his behalf, but to you it was anything but.
“Oh my God, please kiss me.” You breathed out.
“Yeah?” He smirked, “You want that.”
Shockingly, you found it within yourself to clutch onto the collar of his shirt and hurl yourself forwards, landing your lips on his in a way that you likely would’ve described as clumsy and unceremonious.
You could feel him grin against your mouth, slowly walking you backwards through the hallway.
It wasn’t difficult to find your room considering your living room and kitchen were connected, meaning there were only two other doors in the hallway, one of them being cracked open and revealing the view of your bathroom.
He moved past that one, his hand still on your cheek while the other was on your waist, guiding your movements until you clattered through your bedroom door.
Soft giggles came from your lips as he kicked the door shut and found your mouth with his once again.
Lowering yourself to your bed, you took him with you.
His hands were now on either side of your head, digging into the fabric of your pillow as yours were on his cheeks, holding him close to you while hooking your legs up and over his hips, crossing your ankles at the base of his spine.
This brought his hips closer to you, his crotch meeting your heat in a soft grind.
The whine you let out was breathy and had his fingers squeezing the pillow, stirring something deep within him.
“George.” You moaned, bucking your hips up to his and sliding your hand round from his cheek to the back of his head, tugging at his curls.
“God, you’re perfect.” He groaned against your mouth, lowering himself even further onto his forearms.
His fingers were dancing through the lengths of your hair, not in a way that you’d feel it, but in a way that gave him something to do with them without him feeling entirely awkward and useless.
His tongue was soft against yours, not awfully invasive in a way that made you want to rear back and away, but purposeful and smoothly gliding.
Gradually, your clothes started to fall away, starting with your shirt and leading down to the leather mini skirt you were wearing, leaving you in your mismatched underwear, because you truthfully did not think you’d be going home with anyone tonight, let alone be bringing someone back to your apartment.
“Reader,” George whispered, pulling back.
You hummed, lifting your head off the pillow to chase his lips and connect them to yours again.
He allowed it for a heartbeat more before detaching himself from you again.
“You’re drunk, lovely.”
“I know.” You giggled.
“I’m not.”
“So? I know what I want.”
“I know you do, but … it doesn’t feel right.” He muttered, “Plus, I want it to be good, and I want you to remember it.”
You snorted, “Okay, I’m not that drunk, George.”
“No, I know, but I’d feel better about it if you were sober.”
“Oh. Okay.”
You wouldn’t lie and say that you weren’t disappointed, because you definitely were, but you did also understand where he was coming from.
His intoxication level was insignificant compared to yours, and he didn’t want to feel like he was taking advantage of someone with a clouded judgement.
Even though you could very easily recognise that you’d want him drunk and sober, you appreciated his concerns.
He pressed one last kiss to your lips, and it lingered in a tingling way, before standing up and walking towards your chest of drawers.
“Which one has your pyjamas in it?”
“That one.” You pointed, smiling dazedly at him.
He pulled out a pair that seemed to be appealing to his taste, and chucked them towards you.
You cackled as the fabric landed on your face before sitting up to remove your bra and slide the tank top over your head, and pull the shorts up your legs.
While you did that, George stripped down into his boxers, politely leaving his clothes in a pile in the corner instead of strewn about the room like your own were.
Shuffling along the mattress, you tucked yourself into the corner that was pressed against the wall in a position that you usually found yourself waking up to. It gave George enough space to slip into the space beside you without hanging off the edge.
Like it was a second nature, you found yourself back in his arms, his biceps tight around your head and your legs intertwined.
A sleep-slurred conversation was shared between the two of you that ended when he realised he was no longer receiving any responses from you.
When he peered down, he found your eyes shut and your lips parted ever so slightly, soft snores being released into the skin of his chest.
He smiled at the sight, finding it endearing. Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he unravelled himself from you so he could switch the lamp out and get comfortable within his own space.
And that’s how you fell asleep.
Like a couple that had been together for ages and knew each other’s routines and preferences.
