he absolutely cannot fall asleep without touching you.
iIt doesn’t matter how hot it is, or how tangled the duvet is. he has to be touching you.
face buried in your neck, his entire arm flopped over your chest, one leg thrown over yours like he’s anchoring you to the bed.
even in his sleep, he subconsciously adjusts to pull you closer.
and when you try to wriggle free in the morning, he just groans and mumbles, “stay.” dragging you back like a human teddy bear.
love language:
harry’s love language is experience-based gift giving.
he might be busy with work or filming, but when he wants to show love, it’s always intentional.
random flower delivery on a hard day.
your favourite chocolate waiting on the kitchen counter.
but mostly? surprise weekends away.
“pack a bag. don’t ask. just trust me.”
he just wants to watch you smile in the sunlight somewhere quiet.
time with you is his favourite reward.
PDA:
he’s fine with affection, but always thoughtful.
hand-holding? always.
arm around your shoulders? definitely.
kissing in public? only if it feels safe. he’s protective like that.
he knows what people online can be like, and he doesn’t want you dragged into that.
vut in private? he never stops touching you.
always pulling you close, kissing your temple, murmuring little things like;
“come ‘ere. missed you.”
he’s physically attached to you 90% of the time. fully believes your boobs or lap are his designated resting spots.
like if you're both on the sofa? he’s immediately lying down with his head in your lap, fingers curled around your leg, cheek smushed into your thigh.
or he’ll shuffle over during movie night, look at you with that slightly pouty expression, and just wordlessly collapse onto your chest like it’s a weighted pillow.
and the moment you start playing with his hair? gis whole body goes slack.
“you’re gonna make me fall asleep mid-movie, I’m warning you.” (he does. every time.)
he tries to get you in every video like it’s a game.
he’ll be mid-challenge and suddenly swing the camera around just to show you in the corner.
“that’s my girlfriend , she’s judging me. she thinks I’m shit at this.”
and even if you're off-camera, you’ll always hear a little:
“can you pass me that? say hi to the vlog.”
he just loves that people know he has you. not to show off, but like, “look what I’ve got. look who loves me.”
he’s got zero filter when it comes to talking about you on camera.
he’ll get asked something dumb like “are you seeing anyone?” in a sidemen video and immediately beam:
“yeah. she’s unreal. my actual dream girl. sorry, lads.”
doesn’t even blink. doesn’t tone it down. he means every word.
he thinks you’re the funniest person alive and will repeat your jokes to the boys like they’re his own.
you’ll say something casually hilarious in private, and then two days later, you’ll hear him using it in a group video.
“where’d you hear that?”
“..dunno.”
(it was you. he just wants to sound cool.)
nsfw warning!!!
kinks.
harry’s definitely into both praise and degradation, but only when he’s giving it.
one minute he’s calling you his “good girl,” stroking your cheek while he fucks you slow, the next he’s got your thighs shaking as he mutters things like “so needy, aren’t you? can’t go five minutes without my cock.”
but if you ever tried to degrade him? nope. not happening. he gets sulky real quick. “shut up. you love me.”
lso: total exhibitionist.
wants you in his lap at parties, whispering filth in your ear while you try to focus. will pull you into a half-lit stairwell at a club just to get his hands on you.
the idea of nearly getting caught makes him harder.“keep your voice down, babe. unless you want everyone knowing how good I fuck you.”
harry loves a good mirror. loves watching the way your body reacts to him. arching, shaking, writhing.
loves whispering filthy things while you both watch.
“look at you. look how good I make you feel.”
pulls your chin so you have to see yourself falling apart.
and when he’s still dressed?
oh, he lives for you palming him through his joggers.
hrins like a lunatic when you say he’s big.
“yeah? you want it that bad, baby? ho on then. take it.”
aftercare.
despite his chaotic, insatiable energy in bed, harry is soft as hell after.
he might rail you into next week, but the second it’s over? he’s carrying you to the bathroom, running a warm bath, pressing kisses to your shoulder like he’s grounding himself too.
wraps you in one of his massive hoodies and flops on the sofa with you curled on his chest.
might go, “want tea? or like, chocolate? I’ve got those fancy biscuits you like.”
puts a movie on even though he knows you’ll both fall asleep five minutes in. he just wants to keep you close while you come back down.
he adores taking care of you. it makes him feel needed in the way he craves.
secret kinks:
i feel like he would be so into mutual mastuebation.
watching you touch yourself? my god.
he’ll sit back, fisting his cock while staring at you with blown pupils and a filthy little grin.
loves hearing you whimper his name. loves seeing how wet you get for just him.
aand when you’re apart?
he’s got Polaroids of you hidden in his suitcase. one in a bikini, one in lace, one with nothing but your smile.
“you’ve got no idea how often i look at these. fuckin’ obsessed.”
He gets turned on so easily. It’s actually kind of hilarious.
like, you wear his hoodie with nothing underneath and bend over to grab something? he’s immediately hard.
you kiss his neck for more than three seconds? boner.
you call him baby in that soft voice?
game over.
sometimes you’ll just brush past him in the kitchen and he’ll go:
“don’t do that. i’ve got shit to do today. now I’m thinking about you riding me on the counter.”
He gets addicted to whatever makes you moan the loudest.
once he hears that sound, the one that makes your back arch and your nails dig into his arms, he will chase it forever.
tries to find the exact angle, exact rhythm, exact words that pull that noise out of you.
and once he does?
“there. that’s it. fuck, do that again. do it for me.”
losing his mind over you, every time.
description: texting your boyfriend you didn’t finish last night
pairing: harry lewis (w2s) x fem!reader; george clarke x fem!reader; arthur frederick (arthut tv) x fem!reader; chris dixon (chrismd) x fem!reader
genre: fluff and smut (if you squint)
warning: sexual language
Harry Lewis
you: i didn’t finish last night 😔
haz: what?
you: last night when you ate me out, i didn’t finish.
haz: but you did finish
you: nah i faked it.
haz: y/n, you are not funny and you definitely didn’t fake it.
you: i am not trying to be funny just being truthful.
haz: you did finish, you squirted all over my face. i can still taste you on my tongue. i will be home in two hours and you best believe you will regret this little stunt you pulled.
you: hehe, don’t tempt me, love.
George Clarke
you: i didn’t finish last night 😔
clarkeyyy: shut up, poppet.
you: what? i am being sincere.
clarkeyyy: yeah, right.
you: ooo did i hurt your ego?
clarkeyyy: i am on my way home, you better be ready because you are not going stop coming.
you: i am joking, george 😭
Chris Dixon
you: i didn’t finish last night 😔
chrisy: stop lying, love.
you: i am not…
chrisy: you literally came all over my face.
you: umm…i didn’t.
chrisy: oh you totally did. and then came the begging, ‘oh chris one more time please’
you: shut up.
chrisy: your little prank didn’t work this time, darling 😘.
Arthur Frederick
you: i didn’t finish last night 😔
arthur: i am sorry…what?
you: last night when you ate me out, i didn’t finish, i faked it
arthur: are you kidding?
you: nope.
arthur: why didn’t you tell me last night? i could have sworn you came, you are a very good actor. but you should really communicate such things so i can do better.
you: aww, arthur. i am joking. you were amazing last night. i did finish.
summary: you convince george to film a tiktok video with you.
warnings: none although it is mentioned that george is able to lift reader onto his shoulder??
pairing: george clarke x fem! reader, established relationship.
word count: 1.3k
author’s note: inspired by the tiktok the useless hotline boys made bc i wish it was me! this wasn't proofread very well as i, yet again, prioritised my writing over my life commitments and i am now running late for work 👍
slim pickins — sabrina carpenter
it starts on a quiet friday afternoon. you and george both had a day off work and so you had taken the opportunity to have a cozy day in, just the two of you. you're sprawled on the sofa, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. george was spread out next to you, half asleep, when you nudge him with your phone.
when he doesn’t respond, you nudge him again. “george.”
“hm?” he mumbles, peeking one eye open.
“can we do this tiktok?” you showed him your phone. it was from one of your friend’s account to sabrina carpenter’s ‘slim pickins’ where her boyfriend lifts her up onto his shoulder.
“you want me to lift you up for a tiktok video?” he blinked.
“yeah,” you nodded, enthusiastically.
“absolutley not,” he laughed, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes.
you sat up straighter, “what? why?”
"i'm not doing a trend called 'slim pickins'. what even is that?"
"don't act like i didn't catch you saving sabrina carpenter edits into a folder." you glared at him, "all you have to do is pick me up. what's even the point of all that muscle if you don't wanna use them?" you pinched his arm.
"first of all, ouch." he glared at you, "secondly, it's cringe."
you huff and flop back against the cushions of the sofa,, dramitically wounded. "you're so boring."
"i'm saving us from tiktok humiliation." he says, "the lads'll never let it go if i start doing coupley tiktoks." he complains, already closing his eyes again like the conversations over.
"please." you scoff, "you're mpre affectionate with chris and arthur than you are with me."
george just snorted, eyes still closed.
you sulk for exactly ten minutes, then you let it go. for now.
the next day
you woke up the next morning alone. george had left early, before the sun even rose, to film the next episode of the useless hotline. this meant you got to enjoy yet another blissfully quiet day.
that is, until you open your tiktok for you page.
there he was, your boyfriend, with his podcast co-host on his shoulder to the sound of the exact sabrina carpenter song you had shown him not even twelve hours prior, grinning like it was the most fun he had in weeks.
it was funny, of course, the running joke that you and andrew were merely side pieces in max and george's borderline romantic dynamic. but, still, you weren't letting this go easily.
later that night, you're sitting cross-legged on the bed, phone in hand. waiting for george to finish streaming. he's been live for hours now. talking, laughing, completely unbothered as he plays games for the people watching. eventually, you get bored of waiting, so you get up with your phone in hand and walk down the hall.
george is mid-sentence, laughing at something on his screen, when the door creaks open behind him. at first, he doesn't notice you, not until his chat explodes.
'Y/N!!!'
'she looks so done 😭'
'uh oh george is in trouble'
george grinned at the chat before turning in his chair to face you, "hey, baby. what's up?"
"not much." you shrugged, walking over to him and standing behind his chair, leaning down so you were visible on stream, "whatcha doin'?"
"watching random tiktoks." he said, showing you his screen.
you gasped, "oh! i saw a really good one earlier, can i show you?"
"yeah, go for it." he nodded, getting up from the chair so you could use the pc.
you took a seat and began typing into the search bar.
@/theuselesshotlinepod
you clicked onto the profile and went to the most recent video.
"oh no," george sighed and started nervously laughing behind you, hiding behind his gaming chair.
"no, no!" you said sweetly, tapping his arm like you weren't plotting his downfall, "watch it."
you pull up the video in full screen and hit play. sabrina carpenter's voice began echoing through the room.
"a boy who's jacked and kind—"
"it was max and calum's idea, i swear." he laughed.
"was it?" you asked, "chat, i literally asked him to do this exact video yesterday. and he said no!" you laughed.
'LMAOOO'
'the other woman😭'
'i wonder if andrew feels the same'
'she bought RECEIPTS.'
george hides behind the chair again. "i'm being cyberbullied."
"you deserve it." you grinned.
you let the video play one more time, just to drag it out a little while longer. then, satisfied, you grabbed your phone, said goodbye to the chat and left the room.
a while later, you were curled up on the sofa, still scrolling through tiktok when george emerged from his streaming room with a sheepish smile on his face.
"are you actually upset?" he asked, standing in front of you.
"not upset, upset." you shrugged, "but it would be nice if my boyfriend would make tiktoks with me."
he grabbed your hands and pulled you up from your place on the sofa, wrapping his arms around you in a hug. "you're so petty." he chuckled, kissing your forehead.
you hummed, burying you head into his chest. "you love it."
he pulled away, picking your phone up from where you left it on the coffee table. "i do. that's why i'm gonna do it once. and if i throw my back out, you owe me physio."
you looked up at him, "you're not doing this out of guilt, are you?"
"absolutley not," he said, already walking over to the window sill. "i'm doing it because i'm jacked and kind."
his poor joke made you burst into laughter, "you're so annoying."
"come on, let me hoist you."
you clapped your hands, jumping up and down on the spot. "thank you! thank you! thank you!"
the two of you prop your phone up on a stack of cookbooks that have never been touched and an empty coffee mug like this tiktok was some high-level production.
you queue up the audio, bounce on your feet a little as the countdown begins, you turn to george. "ready?"
"not really." he huffed, rolling up the sleeves of his jumper as the music starts playing.
you stood in front of him, his hands found their place securely around your waist.
"a boy who's jacked and kind..."
george lifts you up, effortlessly, onto his shoulder. for a second, everything's going perfectly. you're sitting on his shoulder, balanced like a princess, while he beams at the camera.
"can't find his ass to save my life."
then, because he cannot be serious for one minute, he pretends to wobble.
"george!" you shriek, grabbing a fistful of his hair for stability.
"you're fine!"
you're both laughing so hard, he actually nearly drops you the next time. but he manages to power through to the end of the audio and gently, and safely, lowers you to the floor.
you stuble your way over to your phone, still laughing, george comes up behind you, the pair of you watching the video back before you posted it.
it looks like it was filmed by a couple of sleep-deprived toddlers, which honestly checks out.
within minutes, the comments start rolling in.
'THIS is couple goals.'
'she won 😭'
'petty always wins, ladies.'
'max_balegde: jealousy wasn't a good look on you, babe x'
george scrolls through them from where he’s flopped next to you on the sofa, grinning. “okay, i’ll admit,” he says, nudging your knee, “that was kind of fun.”
you smile, nudging him back. “told you.”
he tilts his head, watching you for a second. “still not doing another one, though.”
“sure,” you say, already opening your tiktok app and queuing up the next audio.
he groans, dragging a pillow over his face. “i’ve created a monster.”
but when you peek over the pillow and raise an eyebrow, he’s already laughing, and you know damn well he’ll do it again.
“pub with the lads,” he’d said, tugging his jacket on while you sat on the bed watching him. “just a few pints. chris, george, that lot.”
you smiled. “and what time will you be back, sir?” he checked his phone like he was genuinely considering it. “ten. eleven at the latest.”
you raised an eyebrow. “that confident?”
“yeah,” he said easily, leaning down to kiss you. “i’ll text you. y’know i always do.”
and true to his word, your phone buzzed throughout the evening, receiving messages like
“still alive”
“a bit tipsy”
“george keeps ordering shots”
“miss you x”
you laughed at the last one, replying with a simple “have fun.”
so when your phone rang around half ten, you expected another update.
until you saw it was arthur calling.
you answered instantly. “hey, babe?” there was a pause. muffled noise. laughter.
then chris’s voice. “right. hi. so. don’t panic.”
when someone who isn’t your boyfriend tells you not to panic… are you really gonna listen? your stomach dropped. “what’s happened?”
“nothing bad,” he said quickly. “he’s safe. he’s just… very drunk.”
you sighed, already knowing where this was going. “uh huh — how drunk?”
there was a brief scuffle, then arthur’s voice, distant and slurred. “IS THAT MY GIRLFRIEND???”
“okay,” chris said. “yeah. that drunk.”
“put him on,” you said, already grabbing your coat.
“maybe not—”
“chris.”
there was more shuffling, then arthur came on the line properly. “hello, beautiful,” he said, like he was greeting royalty. you couldn’t help smiling. “heya . you said you’d be home by ten.”
“yeah,” he replied thoughtfully. “that was before the shots.” you laughed. “where are you?”
“pub,” he said proudly. “with my friends. who are very loud. and very annoying.” chris cut back in. “can you come get him? he keeps trying to buy everyone drinks and telling strangers how much he loves you.”
you closed your eyes fondly. “send me the location.”
the pub was exactly how you imagined it — loud, warm, packed, people spilling out onto the pavement with pints in hand, an average saturday evening. you spotted the group immediately.
arthur was sat on a bench outside now, jacket half-off, hair messy, leaning into george while talking animatedly with his hands.
then he saw you.
his whole face lit up like you’d just turned the lights on.
“SHE CAME,” he announced, standing up far too quickly. “I TOLD YOU SHE WOULD.” you rushed over just in time to steady him, hands on his chest. “be careful.”
he wrapped his arms around you immediately, burying his face into your neck.
“you smell nice,” he murmured. “i missed you.”chris laughed. “mate, she’s been gone three hours.”
“too long,” arthur replied seriously.
you rubbed his back, heart melting. “you alright?”
he pulled back slightly, squinting at you like he needed to memorise your face. “you’re very pretty. do you know that?”
“i’ve heard,” you teased.
“good,” he said, nodding. “just makin’ sure.”
“right,” george said, standing. “we’ll let you take over.”
arthur pouted. “don’t go.” chris clapped him on the shoulder. “you’re in safe hands, mate.”
after bidding farewell to the others, you made your way to the car.
getting him into the car was an experience.
he insisted on holding your hand the entire time, thumb brushing over your knuckles absentmindedly, like even drunk he needed to be touching you.
“was i loud?” arthur questioned, looking at the road ahead. “mmh, loud is an understatement but sure” you giggled.
back at the flat, he kicked his shoes off clumsily and nearly toppled over before you caught him.
“easy,” you murmured.
“you’re very strong,” he said, impressed. “very capable. very attractive.”
you rolled your eyes fondly, guiding him to the couch.
“sit.”
“yes ma’am,” he said, smiling ear to ear. you grabbed him a bottle of water, crouching in front of him. “drink.”
he did, obediently, watching you like you hung the moon.
“you know,” he said softly, “i talk about you all the time.”
you paused. “yeah?”
“yeah,” he nodded. “i tell them i’m lucky. cos i am.”
you smiled, brushing his hair back. “you’re drunk.”
“i’m honest,” he corrected.
eventually, you got him into bed, hoodie swapped for an old t-shirt, limbs heavy and relaxed. the moment you lay down beside him, he rolled over and tucked himself into you, head on your chest.
“thanks for looking after me sweetheart” he mumbled.
“of course,” you whispered.
his breathing evened out quickly, fingers still curled into your shirt like he was scared you might disappear.
and as you lay there, listening to the rain start up outside, you thought about how lucky you were too.
summary: coming home from work and finding your boyfriend drunk on stream
masterlist | main masterlist
Your entire day had just been one bad thing after another.
First, you woke up late. Then, there was major traffic on the way to the office, which made you even later. To make matters worse, someone spilled their coffee on your shirt right before an important meeting to land a deal for your business. And to top it all off, you finished work two hours late, causing you to miss your dinner reservation with Sabina, Liv, and Flo.
All you wanted to do was go home and go to bed - but that dream went out the window when, during your final meeting of the day, you got a notification that your boyfriend was streaming.
On the way home, you sat in the back of your uber scrolling twitter and George was drunk on stream - perfect.
You let the front door of the flat slam shut as you kicked off your shoes and shrugged off your jacket, dropping your bag beside them. From the hallway, you could hear your boyfriend’s boisterous laughter, and while part of you melted at the sound, another part wanted to slam your head against a wall.
“Someone’s home.” You heard him say to the stream as you walked closer to his room, “I hope it’s y/n.”
A soft smile spread across your lips, and all the annoyance you’d felt moments before quickly slipped away. You knocked gently on his door before opening it. “Hi, honey,” you said softly.
An excited gasp escaped his lips as he pulled down his green screen, revealing you to the stream. “Look, chat - it’s Y/N,” he said, opening his arms for you.
You did a little twirl as he let out a playful wolf whistle, then walked over and crouched beside him to peek at the chat. “Hi, everyone!” you greeted with a smile. “How drunk is he?”
The chat flew up as you tried to read it, “Very?”
You nodded pursing your lips standing back up as your knees clicked, “You need to get another chair.”
“I have one right here, baby,” he smirked, pointing to his face. You gasped in embarrassment and gently smacked his chest. “I’m joking, I’m joking,” he laughed.
His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you onto his lap as he continued reading the chat, giggling to himself while you hid your red face in your hands.
“Chat, I think it’s time to say goodbye so I can spend time with m’lady.”
You could hear the smirk in his tone making you grumble sinking back into his chest, “I shall see you all tomorrow.”
“Bye chat.” You mumbled, waving at the camera as George ended the stream, “That was so inappropriate.”
You stood up from George's lap and walked over to his wardrobe while he fiddled with his computer, making sure everything was shut down properly. “It was a joke,” he slurred, stumbling over to you as you slipped off your pencil skirt and shirt, replacing them with one of George’s hoodies.
“You’re drunk.”
"So?" He shrugged, leaning against the wall as you glared up at him. "You're mad?" His goofy, drunken state seemed to fade instantly when he noticed the tears glistening at your waterline, causing him to pout with guilt.
You huffed, moving away from him and over to the bed, letting your shoulders slump. "No," you muttered, dropping your head as you ran your hands through your hair. "I’m not mad at you. I’m sorry."
George shook his head. "You don’t need to apologize, honey."
The bed dipped next to you as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. "What’s wrong?"
"I’ve had such a crappy day, and all I wanted to do was come home and sleep. And obviously, it’s not your fault - you’re just doing your job. I’m just exhausted, and I haven’t eaten a proper meal all day."
An overwhelmed cry escaped your lips as you clung to your intoxicated boyfriend, who was gently smoothing your hair. "I’m sorry, sweetheart," he whispered, kissing the top of your head.
You sat up, wiping away your tears with a sniffle.
“s’not your fault.”
As you looked up at your boyfriend, you couldn’t help but giggle, making his eyebrows furrow. "What’s so funny?"
“You look ridiculous.” you laughed, pulling on the fishing hat on the top of his head and the camouflage jacket he was wearing, “Why are you even wearing this?”
He giggled, pulling the hat off and tossing it aside, "Oh, y’know, just streamer things," he joked, holding up a rock 'n' roll sign and sticking his tongue out like a idiot.
Another laugh escaped your lips as you tugged the jacket off, revealing his parody ‘pitchside’ football shirt underneath. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, "For fuck’s sake," you laughed again, shaking your head. "Can we just go to bed, please?”
George grinned widely, clearly proud of his absurd outfit, but then his expression softened. He kissed your forehead quickly, a tender gesture amid the silliness. "Anything for you," he murmured, before pulling off his shirt and sweats.
Without a second thought, he climbed into bed, wrapping his arms around you. "Let’s just forget today ever happened."
You settled into his embrace, feeling the weight of the day finally lift as you closed your eyes. "Agreed," you whispered, already feeling the warmth of sleep pulling you in.
Pairing: ChrisMD x Reader
Genre: Fluff, Humour, Light Embarrassment, Friends-to-Lovers vibes
Summary: Chris forgets he’s mic’d up during a shoot and says way too many things about how fit you look that day — and the editors leave it all in for the final video
Word Count: 550
Masterlist
You had no idea.
Not when you tied your hair up in the car park.
Not when you tugged your hoodie off to reveal the fitted jersey Chris lent you.
Not even when you jogged over to the pitch, bouncing a ball between your feet, while Chris stood on the sidelines, fully mic’d up for the “Mic’d Football Challenges” shoot.
You had no idea he was saying stuff like this:
“Nah, this is ridiculous—what is she even wearing? Did she wake up and choose violence against my self-control?”
“Right, focus. Focus. She’s your mate. Your fit-as-hell, probably-unreachable, absolutely-glowing-in-the-sunlight mate.”
“Is she doing this on purpose? Is this payback for nutmegging me last week? Because fair play—this is torture.”
He said it all quietly. To himself. Probably thinking the boom mic wasn’t that close. But he forgot the golden rule: if you’re mic’d up, the editors will catch everything. Especially the good bits.
And they loved this.
You only found out days later when the video dropped.
The thumbnail was chaos, as always — Chunkz yelling, Theo mid-fall, you kicking a ball through two cones while Chris looked on in horror.
You clicked on it, expecting the usual mess. What you got was far more interesting.
Halfway through, there was a random slow-mo montage of you kicking a ball, set to dramatic music.
And then came his voice, dropped in like a commentary:
“Is she doing this on purpose? This is torture.”
The screen paused, glitched with a record-scratch effect, and the text:
“Yes, Chris was very much mic’d up.”
You dropped your phone. Picked it up again. Rewound.
They’d included all of it.
You watched, mortified and kind of... flattered? Your face burned as you listened to him panic-babbling under his breath, going from admiring to self-deprecating to very clearly down bad in a matter of seconds.
You got texts immediately.
Theo: "MATE. MATE. CHRIS IS IN LOVE WITH YOU. This is not a drill."
Talia Mar: "You absolute minx. What were you WEARING that day??"
Harry: "This is better than reality TV."
You showed up to the next shoot armed with a smug grin and a vengeance.
He spotted you from across the pitch, froze like a deer in headlights, and turned bright red.
“Oh, if it isn’t Mr. ‘She’s my fit-as-hell mate,’” you called, sauntering over. “Had anything else you’d like to mumble into a microphone today?”
Chris groaned, burying his face in his hands. “They promised they’d cut that.”
“They lied,” you sang, poking him in the chest. “So. Fit-as-hell, am I?”
He peeked at you between his fingers. “You’ve always known I fancied you.”
You tilted your head. “I knew you liked me. I didn’t know you suffered.”
He chuckled, a bit sheepish but grinning now. “That obvious, yeah?”
“You said self-control, Chris.”
He groaned again. You laughed and looped your arm around his.
"Relax. It’s kind of cute.”
“…Kind of?”
You leaned in, lips brushing his cheek.
“Okay. Very.”
And just like that, he was back to being absolutely flustered — but this time, he didn’t run. Just slipped his hand into yours, camera crew be damned.
