i think i genuinely need to make a post about this.
what happened was a joke, it was a, oh look he found out hehe, and now it’s not.
it’s disturbed the community that’s been on tumblr for a long while now and people (who have found their safe spaces on this app) now feel uncomfortable and on edge about expression themselves.
to any of the boys who unwelcomingly found their way here and think ‘imagine if it was the other way around’ … let me tell you now it has been. it has been the other way around for donkeys years, with men writing violent r.pe fantasies about their ‘idols’ (case in point, natalie portman). the difference is, these aren’t r.pe fantasies. it’s just girl expressing their feelings for their idols.
i feel anxious and unwilling to post on this blog and have considered removing the posts that i worked so hard on. that is not a joke. it’s not a laughing matter when you remove someone’s joy and motivation for doing a hobby or something that keeps their mind at ease.
thank you to everyone who has been supportive and kind during this night, you have no idea how much you’ve helped me.
i’ll let you in on a little secret, i cried to my dad about it and he just laughed at me, so i am feeling a little bit better now. however, that does not mean i am over what happened tonight.
this community is a safe space for anyone welcome. or at least that’s what it was supposed to be. my blog will continue to be a safe space for anyone and everyone who so wishes.
notes: hi sorry embarrassingly late sorry please read and enjoy it’s drama filled but kinda rushed sorry again eek i’m sorryyyyy please like and reblog probs like 2 more bits of this mini series left then back to normal fics sorry again lots of love like and reblog please thank you next one is going to be GREAT wink wink <3
“SOMEONE JUST TOOK OUR OTHER SUN LOUNGER!”
“well go get it back?”
“no way!”
“courtney, you do it.”
“no! i’m not fussed, i’ll sit at the table.”
“oh my god, you guys are mental. you don’t have to fight them on it, just ask nicely,” you folded your towel into your beach bag, “just say i think you’ve taken my bed by mistake, you set your towel down on it.”
“but i didn’t.”
“oh my god, then that’s fair game, faye! you can’t blame them,” you looked at her and huffed, heading over to the window to sneak a peak. since the days went on, more and more people began arriving at your complex, creating more noise and taking your spot at the pool.
scraping your hair back out of your face, you rummaged your messy bed for your bottle of water in the tangle of sheets, but to no avail, no water.
“y/n.”
“what faye?!”
“please say!”
“i left my stuff on my bed, you didn’t. you have no bed. you say.”
“fuck sake,” she huffed, throwing herself down on the bed.
you didn’t want to but you managed to drag yourself out of bed an hour or two ago and threw your towel over one of the sun loungers before anyone else had moved - you weren’t about to spend another day perched on the concrete ledge by the pool while everyone else sunbathed properly.
you’d told them to get up, to follow you, but no one budged. you said it three times, and were met with groans and hums of acknowledgment, but not compliance.
and now, they regretted it.
“y/nnn, did you not get ours for us?” beth groaned from the sofa, her voice scratchy.
you didn’t even look up from rummaging through your bag. “no. you weren’t up.”
“but they’re all gone now.”
“well, yeah,” you stood up, squinting against the daylight shining in from the balcony doors. “you should’ve come down earlier.”
that earned you a few sighs and a muttered, ‘cheers for thinking of us’ but you weren’t biting - you’d got your bed, you were set for the day, so it wasn’t your problem that they’d decided to stay in bed until noon.
they proceeded with their moaning and groaning and complaining, now giving off about anything and everything - not finding their phone, not finding a their bikini top, their hair not co-operating, and your mouth was like sandpaper, your head not much better.
you needed out.
you pressed your lips together, resisting the urge to point out how gross the place was - you knew how it would go: the second you said anything, you’d be the nag, the killjoy, the one ruining the a mood — so you didn’t.
you just stood there in your clean bikini, your side of the bedroom folded and neat, dressed ready to sunbathe.
the apartment was feeling smaller by the day — louder, hotter, messier. everyone snapping at each other, shoulders bumping in the cramped hallway, and now the pool was filling up with new arrivals dragging their cases in, their voices echoing through the courtyard.
at the sight of bronzer smashed into the bathroom floor tiles, last nights food on the sofa, cups scattered throughout and clothes everywhere but hung up in the wardrobe - you dropped your bag and headed to the door.
“i’m going down to the vending machine,” you said no one in particular. no one looked up, just mumbled a ‘k’ from the corner.
you didn’t wait for another response and slipped out the door with your flip-flops slapping against the stairwell tiles. the cooler air outside felt like a relief, your head always feeling lighter.
you just needed five minutes.
just five minutes to let them sort themselves out and by the time you came back up, hopefully they’d actually be ready to go.
the elevator doors opened and you trudged to the vending machine at the end of the hall against the wall.
the lobby was empty. quiet.
you closed your eyes, fighting the faint thump and threw your change in, clicking the two buttons, one and three.
“knew it was you.”
you jumped, bottle halfway out, and glanced up; alfie, leaning casually against the wall, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his own bottle of water.
he had a hoodie on, the hood up, the sun glinting off the edges of his watch. he was smiling though. he looked good for a guy with a hangover - if he had one.
“hey,” you said, tucking your hair behind your ear, trying to keep your tone light, “morning.”
“morning,” his eyes followed you up as you stood. “how’s it goin’?”
you shook your head, the thought alone pushing your had mood. “s’like a war zone up there. bad moods brewing because of hangovers so we need to get outside,” you put your drink in your bag. “taking forever getting ready though.”
he laughed, low and gentle, “yeah, i could tell. sounded like war from down under.”
“did you hear?”
“caught a bit,” he said, tilting his head, “not my problem. not my circus.”
you grinned, feeling your morning tension ease a little. “it’s fine. i just came down to escape that pigsty for a minute,” you shuffled through your bag for another coin, “our complex is moving up in the world.”
“i saw. there’s like two new groups in here. i don’t like it.”
“i know.”
you bent slightly to zip your bag closed, and the faintest whiff of his aftershave caught you.
clean, sharp, strong — you knew he hadn’t just sprayed it, but just clung to him from previous times, settled deep in his clothes and skin. it lingered heavy.
one breath of it and you knew it would always belong to him, known to you as alfie’s scent.
wow, it was a good one.
you kept your eyes trained on the vending machine, pretending to debate between another bottle of water or a can of fanta while he stood leaning on the wall, waiting for you to look at him.
you pressed the button, watching the bottle drop, grateful for something to look at. “the girls are giving off because all the beds are taken so i don’t know what they want me to do.”
“me and the boys were thinking of going to the beach,” he prompted, standing up a little, “haven’t been and it’s warm enough. the pool’s not an option at this point. you should come,” he suggested, hoping it didn’t come off too strong. really, he was just giving some advice. “we saw an inflatable course on it. might try it.”
you let your eyes lift from the vending machine to meet his.
“i’ll pitch it to them,” you said softly, stepping back.
“good,” he said, pushing himself off the wall, brushing past close enough that the smell of him lingered. “let me know. we’ll be down in the voyage in like . . 10 minutes,” he checked his watch. “you should come either way, whether they want to or not.”
you nodded and watched him head off, feeling lighter than when you’d stepped off the lift.
ᯓ ✈︎
“oh my GOD, sand is fucking everywhere!”
“well . . yeah beth, we’re at the beach,” you fixed your towel so it lay smoothed out, “what were you expecting? snow?”
“shut up y/n . .” she grumbled, kicking her sandals off, “you’d know all about playing in the fucking snow.”
“if you’re in such a mood then go back to the hotel?”
“and sit wear?”
“somewhere it’s not sandy?”
when pitching the idea of the beach to them, your girls weren’t too fussed, but when you’d told them they could fight for their sunbeds while you sunbathed on yours - they reluctantly gave in.
you were in the voyage 10 minutes later, waiting another 10 on your own when you told the guys to go on.
alfie’s face lit up when he saw you show up, but joel already had you second-guessing your acceptance of invitation when he said he was going to throw you off the inflatable course.
the girls eventually trudged down, and complained about the walk to the beach. you didn’t know why they were in such a mood today. you, yet again, felt the worst, getting home two hours after everyone else.
hey, people liked to talk to you. getting a pizza to eat before bed wasn’t so straightforward with your gravitational energy - you’d befriended a couple strangers from the netherlands and ended up back in the bars.
you weren’t too rough. more electrolytes and water did the trick.
settled with your setup, you lay down on the hot towel, arm shielding the sun even with your sunglasses on and let out a breath.
no more stress. no more arguing. everyone was happy. everyone was quiet.
. . . too quiet.
nobody was talking, and you sat up to observe.
tam had her earphones in, beth was out cold, jess was on her side, scrolling on her phone and faye was reading also with her earphones in.
you tried to relax, but like you’d knew would happen, you struggled to get comfortable on the sand. honestly - you didn’t get what people meant by soft sand - every beach you’d been to was hard and bumpy to lay on, no matter how smooth you made it before laying your towel down.
you sat up again, feeling your body grow hotter with the growing frustration.
you lay down . . . and then you were up again.
you heard a laugh, and looked to jess who was shielding her eyes while looking over at you, “bit uncomfy over there?”
“just warm,” you played with it instead, grabbing a handful to watch it pour out of your fist.
the beach was entertaining nonetheless, not too busy, but just enough people around to keep it interesting. couples were stretched out with books, kids running about with shovels and spades, an older pair locked in a board game like it was life or death and someone chased their curly-haired dog through baby waves.
your eyes kept going back to the group of kids messing around. definitely siblings. you could see it building — the brother starting to wind up his sister more than play with her, her little fists scooping up sand with way too much intent. you almost laughed, silently rooting for her to just launch it at him - not just because it’d be funny, but because you knew she’d feel better for it.
you tried to relax, laying down again, took your kindle out and tried to read.
nope.
you sat up again.
you stood up actually, taking your purse. “getting a drink.”
“k.”
you walked to the row of shops, hearing ruckus before you saw them.
it was 10:00 in the morning and three pints sat on the table, two fists wrapped around a knife and fork and banging on the glass. “bit early for that, no?”
“it’s 5 o’clock somewhereeee,” jay and joel waved their glasses as they put on their best middle-aged woman impression. “where’s the rest of them?”
“over there. courtney didn’t come, she wanted to stay at the hotel today,” you quickly scanned their table of toasties, wraps and baskets of chips. “where’s dylan?”
“probably making breakfast in some girl’s kitchen,” joel picked up another chip, snickering with the rest of the boys.
“lovely,” your face was grim, “what are you guys up to?”
“going to get on that after,” jay nodded to the inflatable watercourse afloat on the water. you could see a climbing wall, a slide, monkey bars and a swing you needed to jump on to get to the other side.
yeah, no way.
“you should get on,” alfie proposed.
“no way.”
“why not? i bet you’d smash it,” they tried to encourage you.
“yeah, smash my face in.”
“that’s the fun of it!”
you sent a conflicted look of confusion.
was that supposed to be an insult?
“c’mon.”
“i wouldn’t be able to pull myself up to get started on it!” you argued.
“i’ll help you!” jay promised, “alfie will help you. he’s got the guns now,” he pointed to his friend who, surprisingly, didn’t flex his muscles in response, but drank his orange juice.
you thought about it.
“i’ll ask the girls . . see if they want to do it,” you continued your journey to the bar.
you got your two bottles of water and walked back, standing in the middle of their makeshift row. “do you guys want to do that watercourse?”
tammy took her earphones out and nudged faye who still had hers in. “do what, sorry?”
“the watercourse. that thing over there,” you nodded to the agility challenge, “the guys are going to do it too. it would be fun.”
“no. not in the mood to get my hair wet,” faye put her earphones back in.
“tam?”
“i don’t know . . . i’m so tired.”
“but it’ll be funny! come on,” you looked to beth, “beth?”
“the water is so cold, y/n.”
“are you serious?!”
“my bikini will come off.”
“SO?!”
“y/n, if you want to go, just go, we’ll watch your stuff.”
“it’s fine,” you huffed, “thought i’d just ask,” you back sat down on your lumpy sand.
ᯓ ✈︎
“GUYS I CAN’T DO THIS! I CAN’T—WATER KEEPS GOING IN MY MOUTH! I CAN’T GET UP!”
the harder you laughed, the harder it was to pull yourself up onto the thing. joel and alfie were already two obstacles ahead, scrambling up the wall section like it was easy, while jay on the other hand, had fell in headfirst just minutes after starting, now thrashing around trying to haul himself back on from the other side.
you kept laughing, out of breath in the midst of using your arms to pull the rest of your body up onto the inflatable mattress, arms shaking violently while your stomach cramped with laughter.
the inflatable bounced beneath you, making it even harder. “i’m actually gonna drown!” you wheezed, cheeks aching from how hard you were laughing. “please!”
“you two are shit!” joel yelled from a few metres ahead, doubled over laughing himself.
“mate i will seriously drown you,” jay called back, not at all pleased he wasn’t winning this competition.
you hauled yourself up inch by inch, the taste of salt in your mouth as water streamed down your face.
the ocean was freezing when you’d first jumped in, but now it wasn’t a bother. there had also been some tiny fish swimming about, but that only encouraged you to get on the float as fast as possible.
when you finally flopped onto the plastic like a dying fish, chest heaving, you heard a small applause.
“well done,” alfie clapped, tone smooth, grin wide. “only took you the whole hour to get started.”
“piss off,” you held back a laugh, but he was right, the fact it took you so long to get on the thing had you wondering how hard this was about to be for you.
“nah, give her credit,” joel wheezed, “she’s made it further than jay.”
“fuck off!” jay barked back, still half-submerged, one leg hooked pathetically over the side of the inflatable like he was trying to climb back onto a horse.
the course turned into pure carnage. jay had already given up, just floating on his back in the sea like he’d and carter kept slipping off the climbing wall, arms pinwheeling before smacking the water with the loudest bellyflop known to man.
alfie was determined to swing across the monkey bars but made it exactly two bars before falling into the ocean.
joel was trying to help jay back up but it was impossible with how jay was trying to climb on - feet first.
you shrieked when the rope ladder swung away from you, kind of warm now and not wanting to indulge in freezing crystal waters again.
alfie was climbing the wall again with easy strength that made your arms burn just from watching. his muscles were working overtime.
veins appearing, biceps flexing, his abs were so defined when he tensed in the cold, it was hard to look anywhere else.
he’d already made it halfway up when you lost your footing and fell flat on your stomach again, breathless from laughing again.
“you’re fuckin’ hopeless!” he shouted down.
“i’m trying!”
the next bit was widely-spaced steps, a calculated running technique needing to be used to try and get across. “i’m going to break my neck.”
“you’ll be fine,” alfie chuckled next to you.
and you ran as fast as you could across them - instantly slipping and falling back into the water before you could reach the third one.
alfie was already making his way over to help you up.
you sucked in a breath and reached for his hand, trying to haul yourself up the side of the float but the second he pulled, you felt the force of the water almost peel your bikini bottoms off.
“WAIT!—wait, stop!” you shrieked, half-laughing, half-horrified, trying not to flash anybody.
he froze, eyes wide, grip still firm around your wrist. “what? what’s wrong?!”
“my bikini!”
“what about it?”
“—wait it’s fine, it’s ok,” you held out your hand again. alfie tugged you up again, but the waves in the water were like fingers, swiftly tugging your top off your boobs.
“WAIT!—wait alfie!” your arms dropped with a splash back into the water, arms flying across your body.
he blinked, startled. “what? what did i?!—”
“—my top!” you gasped, trying not to drown while also trying to shove the girls into place. “i’m nearly flashing you and the whole bloody beach!”
he froze, inspecting you were ok but then the laugh broke out before he could stop it — a proper, loud, belly laugh that made you glare up at him.
“—don’t laugh!” you shouted, trying to climb up again, but this time your bikini bottoms threatened to go instead. “right, pull me up but pull me up slowly . . . i swear to god, if my tits flash those kids over there—”
“—then they’ll have the best holiday of their lives,” he pried you up with one hard tug.
you burst out laughing mid-air, arms trembling so hard you could barely hold on. your grip slipped, your arms instinctively looping over his broad shoulders instead, still wheezing as he hauled you back up. alfie’s forearm curled around your waist, landing you both breathlessly with your face at his neck, silent with laughter.
he was laughing too, that sweet boyish laugh as his back thudded into the ground. his arm stayed put around you, fingers brushing your stomach as you tried to catch your breath, the image of you scrambling to fix yourself and protect the eyes of the innocence setting you off again.
“you are not right,” alfie chuckled next to you, rubbing the water from his eyes while trying to to focus on how you were practically laid on half his body.
“that really made me laugh,” you admitted.
you pushed yourself up on one arm, feeling the weight of his fall away from your side.
your smile lingered on him, but he was staring up at the sky now, brows twitching like he was trying to play it cool — pretending he wasn’t fighting to scrub the image of your half-naked bust from his head.
you wanted to stay like that for a while, but alfie forced himself to his feet, focused on the course again as he made his way to the steps you’d just obliterated.
you spun around to watch him, grinning, watching him make it to the last one before he slipped and his stomach crushed into the last step, knocking the air from himself as he went down.
you laughed from behind, watching him struggle to pull himself up, the water trickling down him in long lines.
your hair was so heavy with how drenched it was, weighing you down, making you grow more tired. your face and stomach hurt from laughing and you were getting sick of constantly adjusting your bikini top. your limbs were sore too, the course working every inch of your body.
ahead, dylan screamed as he slid clean off into the water, the splash soaking you both.
alfie barked a laugh, leaning forward to get a better look and you couldn’t help but glance at him instead — the way he tilted his head back, wet hair pushed off his forehead, teeth on show as he laughed.
succeeding the seesaw next, trying to beat carter behind you, your arms wobbled as you prepared to hoist your bottom half up.
alfie was just there, reaching down without thinking. his hands swallowing yours in a iron grip, pulling until your body slid up against the plastic beside him.
with his muscles bulging and jaw clenching, he hoisted your entire weight with his arm only shaking slightly, swearing when he finally pulled you onto the mattress out of breath. “fucking hell!”
“are you calling me heavy?!”
“fucking right i am!”
you laughed harder than him, clutching your stomach before even thinking about getting up.
you finished the rest of the course, enjoying the five minute break when reaching the trampoline bit while joel was still trying to pull jay back up. however, jay’s weight kept dragging him in. “STOP MOVING!” he shouted, clutching his arm.
“IT’S THE CURRENT, YOU DICKHEAD!”
carter finished first, but already jumped back into the water. you and alfie sat with your legs hanging over the edge, watching the other two like a comedy act.
you could feel your pulse slowing, chest rising softly with each breath as the sun warmed your shoulders - as well as alfie’s body heat.
he was just inches from you, you could still get a whiff of his musky scent mixed with all that sea salt.
he sighed, falling back onto the surface. “i need a beer.”
you smiled, still watching the pair in front of you, “i feel like i need to buy you a beer after all that,” you chuckled, stealing a glance at him.
“you can definitely buy me a beer,” he grinned, cheesing hard.
you hummed, swinging your legs over the edge, relaxed smile on your face.
ᯓ ✈︎
in the apartment, you were the first ready, sat at the balcony, your makeup done in a summery glow and legs on show after collecting rays all day.
outside was a lot less loud than the inside of the girls squawking and stomping over missing clothing prices and hair not co-operating. you got ready as quick as possible, a long-sleeved white top and short frilly skirt, managed to work with your hair thanks to an extension lead and completed the same makeup look you’d been doing every night - just switching lip combos and subtle eyeshadows.
it was nearing 8PM, and you could still hear the hairdryer going, but you stayed quiet, shoulders tense.
wherever you stepped you were in the way, and tammy was asking for 800 photos to be taken of her and you simply couldn’t take it anymore.
“y/n! come take our photos?! please?”
you fought the eye roll and stood up, trampling to the bedroom where beth was shimmying her bra for her boobs to sit right and faye tweaked her bangs to sit at a specific angle to frame her face. “can someone tie my top?”
courtney tied jess’s top, the material lace, her bikini top visible beneath. “don’t worry, i’m packing a spare. i feel like this baby’s going to rip if i turn to fast. shein’s finest.”
giggles filled the room and you shook your head, smiling while holding the phone up to the blonde in front of you. “you’re a moron.”
“what’s up with you? missing your other half?”
“you and alfie shared a smooch on the watercourse?”
“you two looked awful cozy together.”
you took their teasing, instructing them to bunch closer with your hand, “i mean none of you guys would get on with me, so . . what’d you want me to do?”
“you’re too close,” courtney held her hand up to block the flash, “step back.”
in the midst of papping them, you saw Imogen’s name begin to spam the groupchat, wondering what on earth she’s seen now.
“oh shit . . immy’s on oneee,” faye sang, picking up her phone as the others disembarked. you topped up your bronzer as jess alerted the taxi’s arrival.
you grabbed your phone, grabbed your bag, swung it over your shoulder and headed for the door.
THE GALS™
imogen 👑
what
imogen 👑
on earth
imogen 👑
are you doing
imogen 👑
[1 image attached]
imogen 👑
@ Y/N
imogen 👑
hello???
imogen 👑
did you ditch the girls??
imogen 👑
has there been a fall out???
tammy 🌴
no, no fall out
casey 🍒
HAHAHAHAH JAY’S STORY WHY’S HE JUST FLOATING ABOUT
y/n 🪩
nooo, none of the girls wanted to get on so i went by myself
courtney 🎀
she ran the second alfie said he was getting on 😝
casey 🍒
lol y/n hun you gagging for it
y/n 🪩
oh deffo
you locked your phone, not in the mood to entertain the convo.
part of you knew they were taking the piss and you felt like a brat who couldn’t take it, but it never really felt that way.
jay had spammed his story since his arrival here, but today’s snaps had posted of him today, from his pictures of breakfast and ever to today of him floating in the water, flipping the lens to show carter speeding above him and his action shot zoom of you and alf sitting on the ledge together, legs almost looking to be touching.
beth 🛍️
he’s a funny fucker
just then, imogen started to text you separately.
imogen 👑
what’s going on??
y/n 🪩
nothing? 😂😂😂
imogen 👑
why are you always with alfie??
the question halted you for a minute.
why were you always with alfie?
you didn’t know, you just seemed to gravitate to him, probably because he was the person you were most familiar with.
deep down, you felt there was more to your answer.
why did you always seem to be with alfie?
because . . he’s actually not that bad to be around . . if at all, immy, your mind answered. i . . enjoy his company.
and he makes me laugh. a lot.
you began typing.
y/n 🪩
he’s really fun to be—
you deleted it.
y/n 🪩
idk, he’s just always there
y/n 🪩
he’s not bad lol
imogen 👑
hereee we go
y/n 🪩
immy what’s wrong
imogen 👑
WHATS WRONG
imogen 👑
Y/N
imogen 👑
THESE ARE THE SAME LADS FROM SCHOOL!!! THE SAME ONE YOU CALL ASSHOLES AND WANKERS FOR THEIR CARRY-ON IN SCHOOL
imogen 👑
alfie buttle grows a pack of abs and you’re on your knees mouth open wide
imogen 👑
you’re being so pathetic right now y/n, if he was still that little scrawny guy you wouldn’t even talk to him
imogen 👑
he has muscles now and now you’re giving him every second of your day
imogen 👑
idk why you think it’s so different cause you’re out of school, if he still had that uniform on you wouldn’t be glancing his way
imogen 👑
you’re telling me he’s not bragging to all his mates every time you’re hanging off him?? probs orchestrated a whole game plan since you stepped off that plane
imogen 👑
this is the same alfie buttle who cracked up laughing when joel called me a self-obsessed bitch in the canteen?? that’s your guy?? same one??? same rude, misogynistic ignorant little twat who wants to get his dick wet and nothing else
imogen 👑
OBVS he’s going tell you what you want to hear, he’ll probs be a disappointing 20 second pathetic fuck and ignore you the rest of the holiday then you’re another story floating around the school w everyone who has their own version. probs tell them how easy you were with all these pics to prove his point
imogen 👑
if we were roles reversed right now, you’d be telling me the exact same
you stared at the message.
her spam shocked you.
she was on one.
she was at you.
you read over them, a weird feeling in your gut, like what was happening was something you’d low-key been waiting for.
and the worst thing—
she was partly right.
. . god, she was so right.
you would be telling her the exact same thing.
but . . imogen hadn’t spent time with them the past week and seen how fun their company was. how when they weren’t in that environment, they didn’t have their backs up.
when she wasn’t around they didn’t have their backs up.
you thought for a second. how different would things be if it was her?
for a start, imogen wouldn’t listen to you.
she’d ignore your advice and do what she wanted anyway, and deal with the consequences after. she’d sleep with him and you’d be the one going around the whole school, one by one, warning them to keep their mouth shut if they knew what was good for them.
she’d cry about the drama (maybe secretly love it) but be over it in a month.
what are you even thinking right now?
what the fuck were you doing?
what are you actually doing?
y/n 🪩
i know
y/n 🪩
you’re right, i need to reel it in, i didnt realise it looked like that
imogen 👑
it also looks really fucking back-stabby y/n, i didn’t want to say because i don’t want to fight with you but what friend does that - sitting and laughing with a group of people who everyone knows don’t like me? who have literally called me a bitch to my face? and you’re literally up their ass this whole holiday? so weird
y/n 🪩
imogen i swear we’re not all friends now, it’s just the familiarity. i was better hanging with them than strangers on a course
imogen 👑
well that’s the difference between me and you - i WOULD have gotten on the course with a group of strangers than a group of people who wouldn’t have MY BEST FRIEND sit at their table
imogen 👑
the other girls didn’t get on the course, why did you have to?
imogen 👑
it’s not even about the course, y/n, it’s the whole fucking holiday. you’re the only one who’s with them 24/7, every time i see a photo, you’re with them and not the girls, literally dropping them when the boys are around - and again, not just any boys, boys we fight with ?
but it wasn’t like that?
you wanted to scream.
you wanted to fire off every defence you had, right there on the phone — i’m not ditching the girls for them, they just keep doing the fun stuff the girls don’t wanna do. i’ve been with the girls all holiday. all our plans are booked together. i can’t magically separate myself when we’re all in the same places. and every time we have to pair up, somehow there’s already a three, and i’m left to fill the gap.
you wanted to say all of that — loudly, logically — to prove you weren’t this traitor they were painting you as.
but then the silence that followed, the way she phrased it - it wormed into you.
and suddenly you weren’t sure.
because maybe there had been comments. maybe one of the girls had said something to her, maybe they’d sat together and picked apart how distant you’d been, how you’d drifted toward the boys, how you were laughing with other people instead of them.
and yeah, their feelings were valid – if you were them, you’d probably complain too. you’d probably sit around, tipsy and dramatic, talking about how your mate had swapped you out.
so even though you knew it wasn’t true — even though you knew you weren’t dropping anyone — it sat in the back of your head.
what if you are being a shitty friend?
what if you are that girl?
imogen 👑
do NOT let them see you go mental on a night out, courtney said you’ve got a packet by yourself every night - that’s not normal y/n. jesus christ, we’re all for a good time but you’re taking it to the extreme here
imogen 👑
i’m never letting you go on holiday without me again. won’t be surprised if jay has a photo of you posted on your mum’s facebook, you’re definitely not the discreet type
imogen 👑
just don’t do anymore, my skins been crawling with anxiety the whole week for you, you never know who might see you
imogen 👑
buttle finds out and he’ll be blackmailing you til you sleep with him
you barely looked at your phone after that, reading her texts through your lockscreen so she didn’t know you were actively reading them.
now your stomach was in knots. anxiety flooding in like a tsunami.
approaching the strip, you paid your half of the journey and turned off your data, reading her last message.
imogen 👑
i love you to death y/n, i’m not saying this to be a bitch, you know this is from a place of love, that’s looking out for you, protecting you, having your back the way you’d do for me. i’m not going to let you look stupid even when in another country!! you’re my other half, i literally would have to kill each one of them if they dared make a fool of you. i’m being harsh because i’m annoyed for you and i don’t want you to look/feel stupid after all it. i wish i was there with you to keep you right 💔 i love you soooooo much, please just be careful, thats all i’m saying. enjoy your last days. hoping you find a good holiday shag 🤞🏼 there are plenty hotter boys than alfie buttle for god sake. you look gorgeous tonight 💗 be safe, look after the girlies xxx
you were no longer in the mood to be out anymore, 100 anxieties taking place as you overthought the last few days.
imogen didn’t even know half the story, so part of you couldn’t be that mad — but another part of you wished she’d just ask. just hear you out, because surely, as your best friend, she knew you well enough not to swallow every drip and drabs of info she was being fed.
for a start, she was making you sound like a coke whore, which was rich considering she was the one who shared your first bag with. only thing is now, she maybe takes one nail of it if even and you . . well, you don’t stop there, that’s the problem, apparently.
all the girls are all up getting a bag and pitch in and then when it’s time to do it, they’re never fussed, and you don’t get it. are they scared? or do they just want the bragging rights? like it’s something to say you’ve done rather than actually do?
you’re not stupid about it. you judge people who go too far — the ones who do it every weekend, or worse, on their own. that’s not you.
for you, it’s an occasion thing — when the vibe’s right kinda thing. it’s not that deep, it’s coke — half the country’s on it. you wouldn’t even be shocked if your old science teacher had a bag in her bag once that friday bell rang.
you’re young, this is the time to try stuff, to make memories - to laugh about it years later.
you tried molly last summer . . and LSD, and you were fine. imogen had gone through you at the time, but then spent the rest of the year retelling your story like it was her own at parties, so clearly she’d got over it, and it was good — the best night of your life, maybe, everything brighter, funnier, easier.
and sometimes, you wish the girls would just do it with you -not out of pressure- but for the memories. for the chaos. for the fun. for the story.
you always picture it - a night where everyone just goes for it, laughing too loud, feeling electric, but they never do. they talk big, then back out, leaving you the only one holding the bag.
the current packet in your handbag was mocking you.
again, they’re all ‘fine! get another batch and this time save us some!’ so you do buy another bag - and then you’re left feeling like you’ve got a problem because you refuse to let it go to waste.
hey, a packet wasn’t cheap these days — nothing was getting flushed down the toilet on your watch.
the taxi doors slammed after another, a vibrant bass subtly pulsing beneath your sandals, with heels clacking around you, bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, air sticky with smoke and cheap perfume with all the young people around.
you trailed behind the girls as they headed toward the first bar, the girls already ordering shots by the time you reached the table.
courtney was complaining about her sandals rubbing and faye had half her torso on the bar counter to flag the bartender.
“FIVE SAMBUCAS PLEASE!” she yelled obnoxiously over the counter.
“six,” you corrected, flashing the bartender a smile.
“you said you weren’t drinking shots?” jess cut in, eyebrows raised.
you blinked, caught off guard. “since when?”
beth laughed, eyes flicking to the mirror behind the bar instead of you. “don’t start, babe, it’s early.”
you shot her a long look.
not a glare, not even a dramatic gaze, just quiet and sharp enough to cut through the noise.
“. . . and another one, sorry,” she added quickly, voice smaller now, gaze on the bar.
the bartender looked at her and then to you, pouring the liquor in the glass before handing the first one to you.
it wasn’t that you scared them - not really.
but there was something unspoken in your group, a kind of silent rule: you could argue with y/n, tease her, even push every last one of her buttons, but once that flicker crossed your face, all but small glimpse of anger, quiet and controlled — their stomachs dropped.
not because you’d ever gone for anyone, but because they knew, deep down, that if it came to that, it’d be over before it could even start with you.
and none of them wanted to find out what that looked like.
everyone wanted you on their side in an argument — but especially in a fight. you’d never actually thrown a punch, didn’t need to, but everyone knew there was something dark in you that could snap if pushed.
imogen had saw you and jude scrap in your living room for real one time, and he was a 6ft gym rat who used to box -both of you used to- and his eye socket had since then seen better days. imogen didn’t think you’d fight any differently from that.
to be fair - you were both drunk, but with emotions heightened, it came through in how you fought.
the girls downed the first round in unison, grimacing and squealing. your throat already felt tight, your mood still not recovered — not from the texts, not from imogen’s ‘advice’, not from the ache of feeling slightly outside everything.
after the second bar, you spotted the boys — alfie, jay, joel, dylan and carter, lingering near the corner, half hanging over the rail with beers. it wasn’t even awkward anymore, just inevitable - the strip was too small for either group to avoid the other.
“don’t stare,” courtney muttered under her breath.
jay clocked you first, lifted his bottle. “OI! it’s watercourse champ and the gang! thought yous were banned from this end after last night?”
“funny,” beth shot back, “shouldn’t you be babysitting your mate before he drowns again?”
joel laughed, slinging an arm over jay’s shoulders, “already did, don’t worry.”
carter’s eyes flicked to jess’s lace top, “rocking a fish net? how long’s that thing gonna last before it rips?”
“oh don’t worry about me, i’ve got a backup packed, thank you very much!” she sent a sarcastic smile.
you were still chuckling at ‘fish net’ when your eyes caught alfie’s, his grin directed at the secret sound he could hear leaving you.
“good day?”
“still a bit knackered,” you said quickly, looking away before he could read you too much, imogen’s words flashing through your head.
“watercourse broke you.”
“hm.”
he laughed under his breath, and you couldn’t help the tiny pull in your stomach when he did.
you left them, heading to a booth just a couple feet from them, staying close to the bar.
the six of you packed shoulder-to-shoulder around a table, sticky with spilled alcohol and lingering aftershave. you felt a bit better now — the music loud enough to drown your thoughts as your third round had kickstarted the buzz in you.
you leaned back as jess gestured widely mid-story, the glass you were bringing to your mouth getting the wrath of the back of her hand, splashing across your front. a sharp cold shock, pink liquid soaking through the white fabric.
“SHIT! shit, y/n! i’m so sorry!—”
your eyes closed, body locking, accepting your fate instantly as you felt it spread quickly, cold against your skin. jess’s face dropped instantly.
“fuck y/n—”
“—it’s fine, it’s fine,” you said automatically, blotting at it with a napkin.
beth peered over, sipping her drink. “it’s fine jess, it’ll dry in.”
your eyes shot to her, your ears ringing.
“–yeah, don’t worry, you can’t even tell,” faye added, watching you dab it.
“just air it out, y/n babe.”
“guys are you sure?” jess asked again, frantic, but the others kept calm, not budging.
you turned back to jess, “don’t worry jessy,” you didn’t want to make her feel bad, for it was an accident, but for fuck’s sake, how worse could the night get?
“let me get get you another drink.”
“it’s fine,” you shook your head, standing up to go to the bathroom to fix it, but she was already up and heading to the counter.
the girls all watched, empathetic gazes following you, but not moving.
alfie’s jaw was tight as he watched it all. gaze flickering from your shirt to your friends, and back to you.
emathetic, and yet — nobody seemed to mention that spare top.
none of them moved to accompany you in the bathroom.
none of them offered. they just carried on like you weren’t sitting there uncomfortably sticky and saturated.
you blocked their gaze, embarrassed at the idea of them seeing what had happened - not wanting jay to have that blasted all over his social media - laughing at jess baptising you with your own drink.
alfie watched how none followed you to the bathroom, how none tried to help dry it, how no-one reached into jess’s handbag and he could feel the heat burning within him, fingers twitching, jaw clenching.
in the bathroom, with bright white lights, you saw how bad the situation truly was – your whole front was stained a cherry red, the material stuck to your skin, you could make out the faint string of lace on your bra cup.
nothing was going to fix it.
running it under water was a waste of time, the top was ruined, even your mum wouldn’t be able to wash the colour out in the washing machine, it was for the bin at the end of the night.
you dried it under the hand dryer.
as long as it was dry.
after a few minutes, you stepped out, catching eyes with the girls who were heading toward the exit, faye waved you quickly to join when you caught eyes, your handbag in her arm.
a hand locked around your arm and you jumped, startled, head jolting around in a panic, but your shoulders dropped when you were just looking back at alfie’s face. your brows furrowed questionably, the room blasting with loud music.
“don’t fuckin’ go with them.”
your brows raised, taken aback by his tone, but then as if on instinct, against your own control, you felt that all too familiar ugliness crawling up your back, full of defence, settling around every nerve and lighting it on fire. your face furrowed, “what?”
fuck.
alfie knew what side of you he was dealing with just from that look, but he was too annoyed to care.
he’d battle it out. “what? they just left you standing there covered in drink when they could’ve sorted you out in two seconds. they don’t care, y/n, why the fuck would you stick around that?”
“oh my god, alfie, they’re my mates, i’m not gonna drop them over a spilt drink,” you ripped your arm from his grip, annoyance climbing you.
“y/n it’s everything, it’s the digs, the way they treat you, talk to you someti—”
“—and i’m probably as shitty to them sometimes too!” you cut in, “i probably talk to them badly! treat them badly! you think i’ve never messed up? they’re my mates, it’d take more than that for me to just drop them!”
“y/n you’re nothing like them—” he almost laughed, but you cut him off, fury burning.
“—yeah, i’m probably the worst! you just don’t see it,” you shouted out, the music deafening. “you think i’ve never been a crap mate? trust me, i have, and it’d take a lot more than that for me to walk away from them. they’ve done worse before and we’ve got past it.”
alfie’s chest rose and fell like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. he was looking at you with the same look you were giving him, brows harsh as he towered above you. he could shake you.
if you were that fucking thick, maybe you deserved a shitty circle.
you strutted off, rushing after the girls before you lost them, heart beating out of your chest.
“—wowww, someone arguing with their boyfriend?” faye giggled, passing you your bag.
you snatched it out of her hand, your feelings evident. they didn’t ask again.
your patience was thin. you were giving one more place a shot and you were out of here. your mood was ruined, there was no coming back.
if you didn’t refuse to be so much of a people pleaser and ruin everyone’s else’s fun, you wouldn’t been in a taxi on the way to the hotel already.
the next bar salvaged the night however. walking in, your favourite 2000s girls song played, like a promising omen the night was only going up from now on.
you were handed a complimentary cocktail, a little warm but surprisingly nice, and were led to a high table in front of the perfect spot to both people watching in the club and out on the street. it was a better gig, and soon enough, for the first time all day, everyone was laughing.
your shoulders eased, no longer worried about your top as neon lights seems to disguise it anyway, yet still, something in your stomach wouldn’t allow you to fully relax like beforehand.
you stirred the ice in your cup until tammy pulled you up to dance, taking pity on you when she looked at your top again.
you were half-dancing, half-swaying with them when faye leaned in close, shouting over the bass.
“okay, okay, don’t look yet — the guy at the bar in the white shirt?”
you turned your head immediately.
“i said don’t look!” she smacked your arm.
you grinned, eyes flicking anyway.
he was tall, brown hair falling in his face, smiling with someone beside him. the haircut was giving my dad owns a yacht, but the nike bag said my dad’s in jail for dealing and breeding XL bullies.
“he’s my type to a tee,” faye said, gripping her drink. “literally, like, if i built a man on sims—”
“—you want to woohoo,” beth cut in, laughing.
faye shoved her. “shut up!”
that cracked you up - woohoo. “go talk to him.”
“no!” she looked at you like you were crazy.
“why? he’s just a guy,” you said, “just go up to the bar and order a drink. he’ll talk to you, i know he will.”
she contemplated, and took your advice. “ok. what’s a cool drink to order?”
you rolled your eyes, letting the girls answer that one as you went back to dancing. after a minute, you looked over and saw them talking to each other, faye’s smile the biggest you saw it all holiday.
“i’m yet to see one guy i’ve really fancied this holiday,” tammy said, mirroring your moves.
“what about the bartender that looked like bad bunny? didn’t you get talking to him after his shift?”
“yeah . .”
“so?”
“he was nice but he wasn’t actually bad bunny . . smelt good though. good kisser.”
you both laughed, twirling around under the other’s arm.
20 minutes later after some intense dancing, you were up ordering the next round of drinks, deciding to surprise everybody with a shot. courtney had alerted you the guys had showed up and that you were all using their table by the DJ booth while occupying the dance floor.
you didn’t see alfie.
“i’m going to the bathroom, anyone come with me?” faye asked, and tammy and beth followed. courtney remained on the dance floor while jess went outside with dylan to nick his vape as she didn’t have her own.
“shit! my drink,” you said to yourself, going back to the bar.
it was still there when you got it, but even in your slightly tipsy state, you hesitated in actually taking it. your mum had lectured you long enough on leaving your drinks unintended before you’d even bought your plane tickets. you’d fill her with shame right now.
“hi! sorry – i think someone dropped something in this? a pill?” you mimicked someone spiking your drink to the bartender in hopes they understood what you were saying — you weren’t lying. he looked shocked at your confession, and immediately grabbed the drink and threw it down the sink, binning the cup, making you a new one without question.
you smiled appreciatively at him and he winked, giving you a thumbs up.
“seems like you’re on a generational run for a good night, ruined top and now been spiked.”
you looked to your left to see the boy from earlier — the sims one, the one faye was after.
he looked at your top, gesturing to the large reddish stain still coating it.
“who said it was ruined? i might have done this on purpose.”
he laughed, not expecting that as your answer. “hm. s’pose you pull it off,” he raised a shoulder.
you looked off to the side, straightening a bit, looking around for your friends. “who are you anyway? the fashion police?”
he chuckled at that, shaking his head. “i’m dan.”
you raised your head, like you didn’t actually care, but slipped him your name in return. “you were talking to my friend earlier.”
he raised his head, not going into it. “what are you drinking?”
you pointed to the drink being constructed. “hopefully a non-spiked vodka.”
he laughed again, not catching how you’d dodged his flirt tactic of buying you a drink. sweet though. “have you been here long?”
“a few days. we leave after tomorrow.”
“we just got here.”
“yeah. we all don’t want to leave. my friend - the one you were talking to - she suggested here. it’s our first time,” you tried to bring faye up again, “she always finds the best places.”
“yeah?”
“yeah,” you looked at him, making your intentions obvious.
he let out a small breath, thanking the bartender for his drink. “your friend’s nice . . but i have a thing for girls with spilt drink all over them, it’s so weird.”
“she’s shy - nervous,” you defend her, “you should talk to her again, she pointed you out”
he pulled a contemplative look, a playfulness to his face, “you’re easier to talk to.”
talking to him for the next five minutes was hard - you steered the conversation towards faye any chance you could, and when he leaned closer to hear you, you kept stepping back, not minding a friendly conversation, but you knew when a guy’s every move was calculated. it was actually kind of funny. his commitment was funny. “why are you on your own anyway, you weirdo?”
“if you saw my friendgroup, you’d never give me a chance.”
“you never had a chance to begin with?” you laughed loudly, confused he thought it had changed, and he laughed too, unashamed of your repetitive rejection.
maybe that’s why you hadn’t walked away yet, because he was a decent lad who could handle rejection rather than throw a fit like every other insecure man.
dan had class. it made him likeable. you couldn’t wait to tell faye how easy he was if she played her cards right. “seriously. if i get my friend, will you talk to her? you’re both so tall, you already have so much in common.”
he laughed, hand on his stomach at your desperation to match make.
“seriously, faye has killer legs, please,” you begged, laughing at yourself. he didn’t say no.
when he left for the toilet, you scanned the room for them, running to their table.
“faye!” you tried not to laugh, excited to spill all the info you found out about the guy so she could construct a game plan. it was perfect. “faye, your boyfriend—”
her ring-clad hands slammed on the table as she stood up, halting you in your giggles and steps as she stormed off, shocking you to silence.
you looked to the others for an indication of an elephant in the room you clearly had not saw. they didn’t say anything.
“faye?”
silence.
“what? . .” you began following her, “what’s wrong?”
“WHAT?!” she immediately spun around, drink in her hand, standing stiff. “what do you mean, ‘what?’ ‘what’s wrong?’ you’re a slimey PRICK y/n.”
your face fell, confusion flooding your body. “what?! what are you on about?!”
she walked on, the others grabbing everything to follow you both. “faye?”
“OH MY GOD! NO Y/N. you’re not acting dumb right now!” she stopped strutting and turned around to warn you. “do not be one of those girls right now.”
“what’s wrong?! i was coming to tell you about your little boyfriend at the bar—”
she laughed in your face. “HA! ‘my boyfriend?!’ you’re a joke, calling him my boyfriend when you literally just stood the last ten minutes batting your lashes, feeling him up, making him laugh!”
your mouth was on the floor.
“yeah, that’s right. exactly. nothing to say.”
“faye, i was talking about you!—”
“—you were laughing, y/n! like, full-on laughing. everyone saw it!”
your heart sank. “i was helping you.”
“you don’t need to,” faye snapped. “i can talk to guys myself! and besides - i really doubt you were taking about me. of course you’re going to say that.”
you looked at the girls for back up, but they shifted uncomfortably, eyes flicking between them. they locked on beth.
“i mean . . from here it did look like you fancied him . .”
your brows shot up, face in shock. looking to tammy, looking to jess in disbelief.
she nodded in agreement.
you ignored them, approaching faye, reaching for her arm, “faye, i was literally trying to wingman for you, i swear—”
“—YOU DON’T NEED TO Y/N!” she scoffed, a wobble in her tone. “just being a pick-me once again, getting on with the lads when you know they fancy you, acting like you’re doing me a favour! you just make me look stupid, standing here while you’re all over him! and telling him i like him?!” she blinked excessively, her false lashes fluttering. “you actually drive me mad, y/n, you’d be dangerous if you used your brain. if you read the room.”
this wasn’t fair. you felt like crying at how misunderstood this whole situation was, “faye i swear, come talk to dan! he’s lovely!—”
“—FUCK OFF Y/N!” she pushed you away from her, your touch only irritating her, “I DON’T CARE ANYMORE! JUST FUCK OFF!”
you stood in disbelief, the girls slipping by you to chase after her as she stormed off, heels clacking aggressively.
you couldn’t believe how quickly things could switch up in just 10 minutes.
‘faye don’t go’ and ‘she didn’t mean it’, ‘ignore her’, ‘he was ugly anyway!’ all follow in their tracks, leaving you standing at the same club with your mouth barely open.
you stood for a while, waiting for them to come back, for even one of them to come back to stay with you, to comfort you . . but they didn’t.
you waited for another 5 minutes until you felt for your phone and realised you didn’t have it, realised your bag was still at the table, left up for grabs.
you rushed back inside to the table, and magically, it was still there, open, but phone and everything still there.
heading to the bathroom, you squeezed between bodies, trying to avoid swishing cups of drink when you met eyes with a familiar set of green ones in your tracks. your whole body stuttered.
way to feel like an even bigger asshole.
alfie didn’t even look mad, but it wasn’t his regular gaze, and his eyes looked darker, in contrast to the daylight when they were so evidently olive green.
a guy slammed into you, so hard you lurched forward into alfie, his hands saving you from actually falling into him whilst your bag shot out, the components flying to the floor.
the little bag hit the concrete like it weighed a tonne.
your eyes flew to it.
so did alfie’s.
he looked at you.
you looked at him.
you dropped to a squat, snatching it up along with your phone, ID and lip liner too, shoving them all into your bag before pushing past him.
fuck.
fuck fuck fuck.
“Y/N! . . . Y/N!”
your feet sped down the few steps of the side exit when that familiar, strong hand pulled you to a halt. “y/n stop runnin on!” he argued, “you don’t need to bounce, you’re gonna lose your mates!”
“they left me anyway!” you shot back before your brain could stop you.
his face changed.
he straightened slightly, eyes narrowing — not judging now, just . . thinking.
“left you?”
“i mean—“ you scoffed at yourself, for your stupidity to let that slip to him. of all people.
“is it about that boy?” he asked, quieter this time. “the one you were talking to?”
you furrowed your brows at that. “what boy?”
“the one at the bar?” he answered, “faye was talking to him first and then you were. you both like him.”
your face couldn’t have been more disgusted and confused by his comment.
“do i FUCK!”
alfie’s brows raised.
you took a seat on the curb, trying to piece together what instigation ever gave that impression. “i swear i don’t.”
your fingers weaved through your hair as you replayed the conversation, the footpath feeling warm against your bare legs. “i swear i don’t, alfie, i wasn’t talking to him like that, i was literally trying to set him up with faye and everyone—”
you stopped talking.
what use was this?
it’s not like anybody was going to believe you . . if that was how it was coming across to everybody - and it always seemed to be that way - then really only you were to blame.
you were easy to talk to, easy to charm people, and maybe, sometimes, they mistook that for flirting.
it was something you were going to have to work on, tone down a bit.
letting out a breath, you stared ahead at the road, now just becoming annoyed at yourself. “doesn’t matter. it doesn’t matter.”
alfie didn’t move. he just watched you get into your head from a few steps behind, his empathy creeping in on him as he stared at your back. “i wasn’t accusing you.”
“why are you watching me anyway?” you deadpanned.
his mouth went dry.
he didn’t know why he kept watching you, his eyes just naturally found you and he could never look away. “i dunno.”
well, at least he was honest.
you half-expected him to say ‘i wasn’t’ and argue with him on that, but now he owned it so now you just had your back up for no reason.
silence. again.
the feel his presence was annoying you.
why was he still standing here? he was saying nothing and yet, you knew he had a thousand questions on the tip of his tongue.
“where’d your mates go?”
“another club.”
“without you?”
“i was at the toilet.”
“so they left . . . without you.”
“just fuck off alfie,” you spat with your back still to him.
he didn’t say anything.
didn’t move.
didn’t even huff heavily.
a few minutes passed when you thought he left, but looking over your shoulder, he still stood there, hands casually in his pockets, concern etched on his face.
“—oh my god! why are you still here?”
“because you’re sat on a fucking curb, on your own, with drugs in your bag and your mates god knows where,” he said, tone tight but controlled. he wasn’t shouting, but he was clearly frustrated, maybe even worried but trying not to let it show a lot, “i’m not leaving you like that.”
the acknowledgment of the drugs in your bag had your feistiness stolen.
“. . . i’m literally fine.”
you heard movement behind you and soon enough, he was lowering himself next to you, his aftershave hitting you hard — now familiar, annoyingly comforting. he leaned his elbows over his knees. you looked at him cautiously while he just spared you a quick glance, keeping his head straight.
“. . . what are you doing alfie? . . seriously?”
your eyes scanned him. deep within, you wanted to believe he was doing this out of the goodness of his heart - the kindness of his soul - but the thing at the front of your mind were the words imogen had said to you, wondering if this was all part of his sickening game plan - pretending to care so much, pretending to like you, pretending to be this protective, soft-hearted lad - just to get you where he wanted you.
in your knickers. “what does it matter to you if i’m here alone or not?”
he pulled a face like it was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard you say. “you serious?”
“yes! yeah i’m serious!” you wickedly laughed, “why do you care so much? or do you not just care at all and doing all this ‘cause you’re after something?” you narrowed your eyes.
he pulled that same confused look, the one with tones of irritation, eyes narrowing like your own as if you’d finally began to get under his skin. “not after anythin,” he scoffed, “and even if i didn’t care about you, it’s not in my nature to leave a poor girl — a girl i know — alone, in a foreign country at night, let alone on a strip full of blokes who are off their heads.”
you pried your eyes off him, swallowing your argument.
he kept going.
“—trust me to fuck off and leave you then wake up to the news of some teenage girl brutally murdered or missing after a night out and i didn’t do anything? yeah, no thanks.”
you tried to fire something back, but you were beat. you just wanted him to go, feeling worse for keeping him from his mates.
he didn’t seem to care. he was settled next to you like he was going nowhere.
“alfie . . .” you sighed again, quieter now, “i don’t need you to babysit me . .”
“didn’t say you did.”
“then go.”
“no,” he said simply, finally turning to you fully, his eyes dragging across your face with that same, stupid mixture of annoyance and concern that made your stomach twist.
“you don’t care that much!” you humourlessly laughed.
“i do care.”
“why? give me one reason.”
just say it, just fucking say it.
“don’t need a reason.”
“yeah you do.”
“no,” he said, frustratingly soft, “i really don’t.”
you stared at the side of his face, jaw clenching. “literally wasting your time, chasing after me for what reason. to lecture me?”
“i’m not lecturing you.”
“you’re judging me then,” you snapped, “with your little looks— watching the bag fall out my handbag like i’m some dirty sket—”
“—i’m not judging you.” he screwed his face up in disguise you even even think that, “and i definitely don’t think your a dirty sket. ever.”
you turned to look at him, but he was already looking at you.
really looking.
no judgement.
no anger.
no mockery.
just worry, and some genuineness; able to look you in the eye and promise he meant what he said. a beat passed of you just looking at each other.
“i chased you because you looked scared.”
you blinked.
looking away, you stared at the tarmac. “i wasn’t scared.”
“you were,” he said, not accusing, “and you’re still shaking.”
you looked down.
hands shaking. “it’s cold.”
“30 degrees mate.”
that pulled the corner of your lips up.
you tried to hide it, but he’d saw.
you didn’t really know what you were waiting about for.
after a couple minutes silence, you decided to stand, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “i’m just going to go back to the hotel. you should go back inside before you lose your mates.”
“you could stay with us . . if you want,” he stood up, hoping he didn’t sound too desperate, “you don’t need to go back.”
“i’m not really in the mood for drinking anymore. i’ll get something to eat and go t—”
“OH MY GOD — Y/N!”
jumping, startled, you shot around, met with the glammed faces of your friends. you relaxed.
“ARE YOU STUPID?!”
before you could comprehend what was going on, faye was in front of you, her shoulders up, arm darting out in a rant. “—we’ve just spent the last 10 minutes looking for you, ringing you, texting you and no answer! you can’t do that, y/n, we thought something happened!” her frustration was evident. “do you not know how to work a phone all of a sudden?!”
your hand dipped into your bag and yeah, there were 4 missed calls from her alone, 11 in total with 18 text messages.
fuck. your bad.
“i didn’t hear it ring—” you started.
“—y/n you literally gave us a fucking heart attack! that’s rule number ONE, don’t run off on your own?! what are you playing at?!”
but you didn’t run off on your own? to be honest, you didn’t appreciate the way faye was talking to you, but you knew it was from a place of fear, of being scared from losing sight of you, and yeah, you didn’t help with that by not answering them. you might deserve it, but she could see now you were perfectly fine.
“i didn’t know where you guys went,” you started to laugh at how ridiculous this all was, but none of them were laughing.
courtney stood with her arms folded, not mad but not laughing. “y/n we literally got imogen to ring you as well.”
“you’re actually thick. imagine your mum finding out you got left on your own?!” faye’s fingers latched tightly around your forearm. “hurry up.”
alfie cut infront of you, his own hand knocking faye’s hand from yours. “—don’t fuckin’ grab her like that!”
silence.
faye’s mouth dropped, fury blinding her as he hit her hand, “who are you fucking getting involved?!”
“—i saw you, you were digging your fucking nails into her arm!”
the girls were silent.
faye was staring at him with her mouth open, her makeup hiding the heat crawling up her neck.
you didn’t know what to do either. you didn’t want a fight between them and you certainly didn’t want to take sides but-
“—alfie it’s fine,” you cut in, holding an arm out to him to get him to back off. “faye, you—”
you looked down at your arm.
there was little moon crescent like marks on your arm where she’d grabbed you. even burst blood vessels - not bleeding - but on the verge, “—my arm’s not that sore—”
“—oh my fucking god,” she threw her head back, as if in disbelief what you’d just said.
“—don’t fucking deny it!” alfie cut in again.
“i grabbed her arm you fucking knobhead, i’m hardly gonna dig my nails into her!”
“i just fucking watched you!” he was standing protectively, not backing down no matter how much she tried to gaslight him. he saw what he saw and he’d had enough, “all of you can fuck off, she’s not going with you.”
“mind your business, butthole—”
“—she’s not.” alfie’s voice was steady, his eyes sharp. he meant it.
all eyes turned to you.
you looked between them both, between them all, and your muscle memory had you following your home clan of wedges, hairspray and handbags, but the faint sting still pulsing on your wrist felt like a quiet warning, a reminder of what had just happened and who it came from.
“i—”
“YOU’RE GOING TO STAY HERE?! WITH HIM?” faye held her arm out in alfie’s direction.
“n—no, no, i—” your heart hammered, because on one hand, you were conditioned to defend them - it was your natural instinct - your right as their friend, but . . on the other . .
alfie was so clearly right.
so clearly right and you’d be the biggest asshole to throw him under the bus when he was the only person to defend you.
if ever. “everyone just chill out, ok?! everything’s fine, you don’t need to argue,” you didn’t want either one to leave. you didn’t have to worry about alfie leaving. you knew faye and the girls were a ticking time bomb and you did not want to set them off. “alfie, it’s fine. faye—”
faye’s eyes shot to you.
“you . . you did grab me a bit hard—”
the silence that followed was icy.
courtney’s eyebrows lifted.
tammy let out a single, shocked laugh.
faye’s face burned — not with shame, but offence.
“—right,” she said flatly, “okay. good to know whose side you’re on.”
your stomach dropped. “i’m not on anyone’s side—”
“—no, no,” beth cut in, crossing her arms, tone clipped, “you wanna stay out here with him? fine. stay.”
alfie tensed beside you. you felt every bit of him, the way his stance squared, the way he was ready to bite back.
their eyes, all of them, flicked between you and him. judging. deciding. writing their own narrative.
“we’re going to palo,” courtney said. “if you wanna come, come. if not . . . ” she gestured vaguely at alfie, “. . . enjoy yourself.”
they turned on their heels and didn’t wait.
faye was already squealing to them about you, talking like you weren’t there, and then they disappeared into the crowd.
the air had never felt so thick.
the lump in your throat had never been so painful.
and why?
why would you cry over them?! you refused to.
“y/n.”
alfie’s hand grazed your shoulder. he knew you needed comfort right now but he didn’t know how to do it. your shoulders sagged with defeat as his fingers applied a soft pressure, letting you know he was still there and not leaving you. “y/n.”
“yeah?”
“you alright?”
you nodded. “yeah . . yeah, i . . .” you turned around to face him, “i’m sorry about all that—”
“—you don’t need to apologise for any of that,” he turned his face up, “and you shouldn’t be annoyed either. they’ll realise they were in the wrong.”
you laughed, but it didn’t quite reach your chest. “i don’t think so.”
it wasn’t just the argument, it wasn’t just the night, it was the weight of everything lately – feeling out of place in your own skin, feeling guilty when you were having fun without them, not knowing who you could turn to for support in the group.
the conflict was eating at you. “i . . . i don’t even know anymore.” you sighed.
alfie was quiet.
his gaze never left you.
then, a moment later, he gave a small, quiet exhale, almost like he was holding back something of his own, “they don’t deserve the space they take up in your head.”
you nodded to show you heard him, even if you didn’t believe it.
alfie knew you’d never leave them, as much as he wished you would; wished you would wake up and realise how draining it was to endure this so often, but he knew you wouldn’t.
and there was no point turning you against him now. he’d have to let you figure that part out on your own, in your own time.
so he decided, for now, to tell you what you wanted to hear, for the sake of comforting you in any way he could right now.
“. . they’ll cool down, you know how they are,” he tried again, hand reaching for your back, “. . do you wanna head back to the hotel? . . . get pizza or something on the way?”
you nodded, before adding, “you don’t have to come. i’ll be fine on my own.” you didn’t want to drag him away from the boys. your night was ruined, not his.
he shook his head, “it’s fine. let’s go.”
“well . . don’t you want to let the guys know?” you adjusted your handbag strap.
“don’t need to,” he fell into step with you, “i’m a guy, so . . doesn’t really matter where i disappear off to. i’m not at risk, am i?” he looked down at you.
you looked up at him, eyes playfully narrowed, “and if you get jumped by a group?”
“well i’m gonna have to take 2 and you’re gonna have to take 2, aren’t you,” he let out a breath in a funny tone, like he’d actually shit himself if the moment arose. you giggled into yourself before falling to silence, the smile feeling unnatural on your face.
you walked in silence for a minute, head bowed, your mind replaying the whole ordeal on a loop — every raised voice, every look, every twist that somehow made you the villain. with each replay your mood dipped lower until you felt like you were sinking into the pavement.
that saturday night flight couldn’t come quick enough.
alfie kept pace beside you, shoulder to . . well, his shoulder to your neck, really, close enough that he could feel the way you’d curled in on yourself.
he kept glancing between the pavement and you, and every time his eyes landed on you it hit him a little harder: the sight of you did something awful to him.
your top still stained from where one had knocked their drink over you, arms wrapped around your ribs like you were holding yourself together - your poor scratched wrist that made his jaw clench. your heels clicked in a lonely, defeated rhythm on the sidewalk in contrast to the whole group you always heard together. he imagined how excited you would have been getting ready, happy with yourself, feeling good in your outfit - all to be ripped from you.
you weren’t crying, weren’t even talking, but everything about you looked small.
sad. like you were walking on autopilot just to get away from the scene you’d been pushed out of. the smallness of your steps, the way your eyes didn’t bother lifting from the ground, it really nipped at his heart - because he knew how embarrassing this was deep down for you.
he could see it — the humiliation you were trying to swallow. the way you kept your chin down like you were ashamed of something you hadn’t even done. it made his stomach twist.
he’d always known you were loyal, but now he could see the cost of it — how lonely it made you.
how much you swallowed just to keep the peace.
and for the first time that night, he felt genuinely lost on what to do. he wanted to fix it all for you, to make you feel better, but he just didn’t know what to do.
debating with himself, he looked at you, then looked away, jaw working like he was arguing with his own thoughts - then looked again — and he just gave in.
his arm slid around your shoulders and he tugged you gently into his side, hand on her arm, just letting you know you didn’t have to hold yourself up alone.
for a second, you were still locked in your own head — and then you melted into him, your arms slipping around his waist, cheek pressed to his torso, holding onto him the best you could while walking.
the warmth was instant. welcoming. exactly what your body had been wishing for without even realising. you let out the smallest exhale, and a small, tired smile tugged at your lips because this was what you’d needed.
a good, comforting hug. a real one.
alfie felt it too, the way you softened; the way you leaned into him. he looked down at you briefly, eyes softening, and tightened his arm around you a little - protective, steady, rubbing his hand up and down yours — silently promising you weren’t walking back alone.
the chaos of the night seemed to fade as you walked side by side. his presence beside you was strangely comforting, and for once, you didn’t feel the weight of the world on your shoulders.
it felt natural - familiar even, like it had always been this way, even though you both knew it hadn’t.
the walk back to the hotel felt slower, more deliberate — but in the best way. no more drama. no more fighting - just you and him, walking in sync, without saying much, but saying enough.
and for the first time in a while, despite sharing a small cramped hotel room with 5 other girls, you didn’t feel so alone.
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yourusername good start to the day, good end to the day 🐬🐚🍕
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joeljoeljoel legend has it jay is still floating in the water
hi guyss it’s minnie, my old account got hacked unfortunately so i’ve had to make this new one :(( i’m so sorry to all the request that got sent there that i can’t do anymore, feel free to send them back over here and i’ll get them done. hopefully everyone can find their way to this account
mutuals if you can reblog this to help spread the word that would be great :)
i have work all day today 🤧 probably finishing at like 10pm i love 12 hour long shifts!! SO PLS PLS PLS SEND AB REQUESTS!! i wanna write for the man sooooo bad 😍😍😍😍
summary : in which you vlogged a day in your life with george
starring : george clarke x fem!reader
content : established relationship | genre : fluff | warning : none
a/n : hiii i’m here to hand deliver you my first george’s fic! sorry it took me a while to get it out but hope you enjoy it! let me know if you want similar to this sort of vibe!? as always, don’t forget to reblog and i’ll see you on my next fic! mwah xx
YOUTUBE
yourusername just posted a video !
@YOURUSERNAME : grwm + cosy day in my life ft. my boyfriend, 10/10 toasties, & accidental chaos 🍓🧸🫧
225K views | 1 day ago
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-------------------
the vlog opened with a soft, lo-fi beat rolling under warm-toned footage: sunlight slicing through the bedroom blinds, your bedside clock and strawberry scented lip balm laid neatly next to a half-burned candle, your robe draped messily over the arm of the chair and a glimpse of tangled sheets where george was still fast asleep - face half-buried in the pillow, loose curls dangled everywhere, mouth parted just slightly.
you whispered off-camera, "ok. good morning guys. he's still dead to the world, so we're starting without him,” as you panned toward the mattress. "exhibit a," you whispered as he snored once, loudly.
the camera then cuts toward you setting the lens down on the bathroom shelf and leaned into the mirror with damp skin and sleep-swollen eyes, a fluffy white towel wrapped around your chest, your hair clipped up in a loose bun. your voice came quiet and warm as you began your intro, hands waved lazily toward the reflected mirror.
"hello and good morning again, besties. welcome back to the channel - or if you're new here, i'm y/n, i romanticise everything and live with the human version of a golden retriever. today i am once again, starting the day before george wakes up because someone keeps stealing the duvet and snoring like a power drill."
then you blinked. once. twice. zoned out in your thoughts, "okay, real start to the day," you began, clasping your hand together. "today's vlog gonna be soft and slow as i'm taking you through a day in my life. it definitely involves a bit of me filming, editing, maybe a market run and dragging george out for a walk outside if he's brave enough to see sunlight. either way, i'm fresh out of the shower, and now i'm ready for my skincare routine."
you reached for your cleanser. rubbing it between your palms.
"also, if you hear any thuds, crashes, or suspicious cackling - the beast is awake."
as if on cue, there's a loud thunk came from your bedroom.
you blinked at the camera, deadpan. "there it is."
a second later, george shuffled into frame, still in his pyjama pants, shirtless and curls still slightly flattened from sleep. without a word, he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. his body was warm against your back, all sleep-heavy and needy.
"you're filming without me already?," he mumbled, nose pressing against the curve of your neck, letting out a dramatically lough sigh.
"i didn’t know you were conscious," you replied, not even turning around. “also you were snoring, very loud.”
“lies.”
“i literally got it on tape.”
he groaned, “you better edit that out…”
"i missed you," he murmured after a moment.
"george, we were literally asleep together twenty minutes ago."
he kissed your bare shoulder, "yeah, and it was a really long twenty minutes. but now you're glowy. and smell nice too. like that vanilla stuff."
"that’s called shower gel and effort."
"exactly. fresh. lovely. mine," as he tightened his hold and rocked you gently side to side, nose still nudged into your neck.
you chuckled and met his sleepy gaze in the mirror. "say good morning to the vlog."
he blinked once, then waved lazily at the camera, still half-asleep. "morning, besties. isn't she beautiful? and i am lucky enough that i get to wake up to this every day."
you flushed a little as you glanced toward the camera again, lips twitching as you tried to refocus. "so, anyways. i'm going to take you through my skincare routine- "
george lifted his head and cut in, "her skin's perfect already, by the way. just letting you know."
"george."
"she's glowing. this is unnecessary."
you turned your head just enough to give him a look. "babe, i love you. but i will eject you from the bathroom."
he smirked, eyes twinkling. "but i'm warm."
"and needy."
"and yours."
you groaned into a smile. "ok, ok, you can stay. just- can you stop kissing my neck while i'm trying to cleanse, please?"
"never, my love."
the camera caught everything - the blush creeping into your cheeks, the way george pressed a gentle kiss on the back of your ear, and the quiet smile that tugged at your lips even as you tried to get back on track.
you raised a cleanser bottle to the lens after washing off your face. "as i was saying before, this is the cerave hydrating cleanser - classic, boring, but she never lets me down. i use this every morning, preferably without distraction- "
george kissed your shoulder again, loud and on purpose. you tried not to laugh.
" -but clearly that's too much to ask."
the shot lingered for a few seconds as you both stood there, his arms around you, your body leaning back into him like muscle memory. the kind of moment that didn't need editing - soft, real, and so clearly yours.
he kissed your shoulder softly and mumbled, "i don't want to be known as a smelly boyfriend on the internet, so lemme join."
you handed him your other cleanser without a word. he squeezed it into his palm like muscle memory. you brushed your teeth together at the sink - him using your strawberry toothpaste, you stealing glances at his bedhead through the mirror. he kept bumping your hip every few seconds, like he couldn't stand not touching you.
"we do our skincare together every morning now", you told the camera, spitting gently into the sink. "it started by accident and then it became a thing. like soft domesticity. but with less aesthetic music and more fart jokes", you chuckled.
back in the bedroom, soft morning light spilled across the floor as you sat at your vanity. the camera was now on a low tripod, capturing you from the waist up, now focused on your hands as you layered your products: serum, moisturiser, then your go-to SPF.
"next up, the ordinary hyaluronic acid for hydration", you narrated, gently pressing it into your skin. "then my holy grail- la roche-posay sunscreen. non-negotiable. even when it's cloudy. even when george says 'we're just going to tesco'."
"and i stand by that", george said from the bed, now lying flat on his stomach, watching you with his chin resting on his crossed arms. "tesco is not a sunburn risk".
"you don't get sunburn", you said. "you're solar-powered".
"exactly. i need the damage."
you laughed, tapping your moisturiser onto your cheeks. "ok. light makeup today. i've got two videos to film, but nothing to heavy. we're going minimal."
you held up your base. "rare beauty skin tint, tiny bit of concealer, cream blush - i want to look like a peach but with just enough coverage to look alive, basically."
"alive and devastating," george said from the bed, stealing your claw clip and twisting into his curls like a crown.
you glance at him in the mirror. "can you not?"
he shrugs. "i'm accessorising. do it for the vlog y'know?"
you paused, tilting your head sideways to look at him. "what are you doing for the vlog?"
"giving them what they came for."
"which is?"
"me. shirtless. holding your lip gloss. whispering sweet nothings while you try to do your eyeliner."
you snorted, shaking your head as you continued on, bouncing your beauty blender along your jawline. george got up and wandered over behind you, his arms lazily slipping around your shoulders. his chin rested in your neck, lips brushing your ear.
"you always look like a peach by the way", he murmured. "sweet. soft. ripe."
i stared deadpan into the camera and let out a soft chuckle. "i live with this by the way."
"you love this. and me."
you shake your head fondly and lean back into him for just a second before nudging him off. "go get dressed. i need to do my mascara and eyeliners without being molested." '
george smirked as he leaned in to kiss your cheek right as you start on your mascara. you flinched with a loud, "GEORGE!"
"i warned you."
"do you want me to go blind?"
"for the vlog", he said seriously, then burst into a laugh. "it's content, babe."
you stare into the lens once again. "if you ever wonder why i never filmed get-ready-with-me videos anymore...this is exactly why. this is my life."
george kisses your cheek again. you let him this time as he leaves to get ready.
after managing your skincare and (mostly) peaceful makeup routine, the video cut to a cozy wide shot of the kitchen. the camera had been placed on the corner counter as the vlog capturing your breakfast moment: you moved in and out of frame making toast, slicing strawberries, lighting the candle you kept by the kettle. as for george, he well pressed up behind you like velcro, arms wrapped around your waist, swaying to lo-fi music playing from the kitchen speaker.
“george. honey, can you give me some space so i can make your toastie before i burn it?” you asks, trying to focus while he kisses the back of your neck.
“nope. never”, he says. “i’m in my golden retriever boyfriend era. you can’t stop me.”
“and by that you mean slow-dancing with me at 9am while i’m making toast?”
he grins against your skin. “exactly. vlog needs romance.”
“guys, if you couldn’t tell by now, george is the clingiest man alive”, you says into the camera, “who doesn’t know how to let go.”
“i let go last night”, he protests. “for like, an hour, while i was streaming with the boys,” he then squeezed your hips that made you yelped loudly.
“you literally texted me mid stream to say you missed me. chat clocked you on that since you couldn’t stop giggling the whole time.”
“and you replied.”
“…yeah.”
before you could even form your next sentence, george shuffled off to the side, pulled two mugs from the shelf and started on coffee.
"no idea what i'm doing," he mumbled quietly.
"yes, you do. you called yourself the coffee king, remember?"
you walked past him to get plates, and he caught your wrist mid-step, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.
the camera panned to show the breakfast laid out - toast with almond butter and strawberries, coffee in mismatched mugs, the two of you standing at the counter nibbling quietly while the city hummed outside.
as you stirred your coffee that george had so kindly made, he whispered, “tastes sweeter when it’s shared,” before taking your mug and sipping it himself.
you shot him a look.
“what?” he grinned. “we’re married in everything but name.”
back in the bedroom, you had the camera angled toward your closet while you pulled out hangers and stared at your wardrobe like it personally offended you.
“i don’t know what to wear,” you said into the mic. “we’re going to tesco and then maybe to the market, but like… i want to look cute and not too overdressed.”
george peeked his head in from the door frame while eating the last of your toast. “wear that cute jeans you just bought last week and that hoodie that you keep stealing from me,” he mumbled with a mouth full.
you narrowed your eyes. “first of all, don’t speak with your mouth full of food dude. that’s gross. and secondly, that hoodie is mine now.”
“can you believe she just called me dude?” he baffled and all you could do was letting out a soft laugh before turning around and pecked his lips teasingly.
you picked the outfit he suggested - baby blue denim pants with bows on either side of the ankles, oversized hoodie, your favourite tote - and turned to give the camera a spin. “alright, stylist george in the building but now, we’re heading out.”
the vlog picked up again in the car - you filming soft footage through the passenger window, george driving with one hand on the wheel, the other draped loosely over your thigh.
he kept turning the music for his favourite bits, then turning it down again to point out dogs on the sidewalk or funny billboards.
at one point he looked over and said, “this is perfect.”
you raised a brow at him. “what is?”
he just shrugged. “you. me. groceries.”
in the store, he filmed you pushing the cart, adding random snacks when you weren’t looking, and narrating everything in a fake david attenborough voice. you tried not to laugh. failed.
“here we observe the rare, wild beauty in her natural habitat: near the hummus.”
“oh my gosh, stop.”
you then filmed a bit of the queue while he made up fake names for you under his breath. “tell the cashier you’re from an oat milk dynasty.”
back home, the camera was back on the shelf in the living room. pr boxes were stacked around you like cardboard towers, and you sat cross-legged on the rug with a pair of scissors and zero clue where to begin.
george flopped next to you, took the scissors, and immediately ripped open a box upside-down.
you stared at the pile of packaging peanuts now covering the floor. “seriously?”
“oopsie…!” he said with a grin.
each item became a bit — you showed the lip oil, he tried to apply it and missed your mouth; you lifted out a reed diffuser, he smelled the stick and pretended to faint. it was chaotic, but warm.
“this one’s vanilla. this one’s rose. this one smells like you after a shower.”
“you have to stop saying that,” you said, laughing.
“i’m promoting your brand,” he said innocently.
he passed you a body butter and whispered, “this one’s dangerous.”
you threw packaging at him until he flopped dramatically behind you and pulled you into his lap mid-filming.
the camera transitions in the next clips captured you tidying up the lounge after filing your pr boxes while george followed you around like a shadow. you vacuumed. he flopped onto the couch. you adjusted the cushions. he dramatically laid across them like a 19th-century poet.
“you’re meant to be helping,” you said.
“i am. i’m providing moral support.”
“you’re providing chaos.”
he jumped up and wrapped his arms around your waist again, swaying you side to side.
“alright, alright,” you laughed. “this is our cleaning routine now?”
he kissed the top of your head. “this is our forever routine.”
you rolled your eyes, smiling. “do it for the vlog?”
“do it for you,” he whispered.
as evening settled, you lit candles, filmed soft pans of the fairy lights glowing across the curtain rods, and captured the two of you barefoot in the kitchen again — this time making pasta. you stirred sauce, george grated cheese dramatically over your shoulder, and the camera caught every domestic flicker like you lived inside a movie.
you sat down with bowls in hand, side by side on the couch. george reached for your leg and pulled it across his lap like he always did, the blanket tangled around both of you.
the vlog closed with one final wide shot — the two of you bathed in candlelight, bowls empty on the table, your head resting on his shoulder as the soft sound of a movie played in the background.
george kissed your temple and whispered something you couldn’t hear.
you turned to face the camera one last time and smiled.
“alright,” you said quietly. “i think we’re going to end the vlog here. i hope this felt as soft and cozy to watch as it was to live. if you liked it, let me know below. otherwise, thanks for hanging out with us. good night besties, we’ll see you in the next video!”
you reached over, tapped the camera off, and everything fell into stillness — warm and quiet and golden.
and for the rest of the night, you stayed curled against him, your skin smelling faintly of moisturiser and candle smoke, your heart so full it ached in the best way.
and that was it — soft, quiet, full.
exactly the kind of day you always wanted to remember.
-------------------
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georgeclarkeey: didn't know i was signing up to be a full-time barista, outfit consultant, AND PR assistant but honestly? i'd do it again x
• yourusername: you forgot cuddling supervisor and certified toast thief 💅 but yes you’re hired. permanent contract. no pay x
user: i want what you two have. the brushing teeth together?? the outfit choosing?? pls 😭😭😭
❤️ by yourusername
user: why is george being obsessed with her literally the most healing thing i’ve ever seen??
user: petition for george to get his own ‘chaotic boyfriend PR unboxing’ segment in every vlog now.
❤️ by yourusername
user: this vlog was just 20 minutes of serotonin and i’m obsessed. more pls. weekly vlog when?? 👀
user: not me smiling at the screen like an idiot the whole time 😭 i need more domestic vlogs pls
• yourusername: coming soon xx
user: you both cooking dinner together at the end??? too soft. i had to rewatch it with a blanket on
• yourusername: that’s exactly the vibe 😌 comfort food + candlelight + someone stealing your garlic bread
user: no bc this is what ‘soft life’ actually means. warm coffee, shared skincare, george being clingy. i love it here 🧸
❤️ by yourusername
user: george in the unboxing segment had me in TEARS 😭 give him his own channel atp
• yourusername: me too bestie x
INSTAGRAM
yourusername just added to their story !
↳ george and mr teddy wants you to watch my new vlog, out now on yourusername’s channel xx 💋🫶🏼
