#isaac smith

[clarkeysbedchem]

streams

george clarke x fem reader

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.

taglist: @whisperturnedecho @graceln4 @dopeysunflowers @super-gay-for-u @bethorwhateverr @livvymd @lilyyxoii @roc-haze

[deejayrockz]

Drunk Chris being whipped for reader who’s just trying to take care of him

WILDEST DREAMS •

C. DIXON

SUMMARY ౨ৎ chris has had a crush on reader, and with the confidence from his pints, he decides to shoot his shot.

WARNINGS ʚ fluff, alcohol mentioned and drunk chris, i don't think anything else?? this is really short and kinda rubbish, sorry, will rewrite when i feel like it :/

౨ৎ

it was 1130pm, when you received a message from george, almost unreadable.

clarkster

pls comr pixk us uo.

we're all souooo drunj

you

when i said message me if you need anything

this isn't quite what i meant

i'm omw 🙄

and so here you were, pulling up outside the pub, seeing chris, arthur hill, george, and isaac sat on a bench. george, despite his fucked up spelling, didn't seem too drunk, which was a relief. isaac was also somewhat sober, it was mainly arthur and chris that were trouble.

"come on then, boys, get in," you rolled the window down, watching their heads perk up at the sound of your car beeping. george giggled as he wrapped a very drunk chris around his shoulder, guiding him to the car.

"fun night?" you asked, looking at chris' flushed cheeks from the rearview. he gave you a cheeky grin, nodding, then giggling to himself, causing you to smile. george laughed at him, as arthur also stumbled into the front seat, looking out into the oblivion.

"do you know what planet you're on?" you asked, nudging arthur slightly, to which he nodded, then rubbed his eyes.

"why aren't i in the front seat? this is so unfair," chris mumbled, slouching in the back middle.

"because we'd get pulled over," george said, "you don't meet the height requirement for the front seat." george giggled to himself, as you joined in, pulling off the road and heading to isaac's house first.

"brilliant," chris mumbled, rolling his eyes, before sitting forward, arms rested on the centre console.

it seemed to be a quiet ride home, chris' head now rested on the console, his curls tickling your elbow each time you switched gears.

"right, talk to you later, thank you for the ride," isaac smiled, as the boys all said their goodbyes.

"right, let's get you three to bed," you mumbled, scratching chris head jokingly, before pulling off isaac's driveway. chris hummed softly, before picking his head up, and slouching back.

the car ride back was full of george telling you stories of the night, while chris giggled at your reactions. arthur was completely non verbal.

when you got back to your shared apartment with the boys, chris wrapped his arm around your shoulder, mainly to help himself up, and you placed your hand on his wrist, the other behind his back.

"you're so pretty, thank you for driving us home," chris whispered, as george was giggling at something arthur said, struggling to get the key in the door. your face flushed, a small smile creeping onto your face

arthur grunted, as he practically threw the key to george, to which george giggled then opened the door easily.

"thanks, chris, you're pretty too," you whispered, giggling at the fact you were whispering like some 13 year old gossips.

he smiled at you, before attempting to head to the couch. he tripped, and landed on the settee with his face first in the pillows. george laughed, then headed straight to his room after grabbing a cup of water. arthur sat on the settee, hands rubbing down his face.

"cmon, get to your room," you muttered, kneeling next to chris, a hand running through his hair. he mumbled softly, turning his head to face you, eyes closed and a soft smile on his face.

"help me?" he asked, voice so quiet you almost didn't hear it.

"sure," you smiled, dragging him up by his arm, and getting a cup of water. you led him to the bedroom, after bidding arthur a good night.

"i'm okay," he muttered, as you handed him the water once he sat on his bed.

"i'm not offering, im ordering," you deadpanned, "drink."

he rolled his eyes childishly, before taking small sips of the water. he set the now half full glass on the bedside table, before looking up at you from his seated position.

"you're so pretty,"

"i know, you've already said,"

"no, like, you're really pretty," he said, reaching up to grab one of your hands.

your cheeks flushed again, a small smile on your face, as you knew it was mainly drunk words talking.

"thank you-"

"can you stay with me?" he cut you off, falling back to lay down on his bed, eyes shut, as if he didn't want to see your reaction. his cheeks were flushed, and his eyebrows were slightly creased.

"what?" you whispered, sitting on the edge of his bed now.

"stay with me? please?"

"chris, you're drunk," you stated, a hand now resting on his jeans, as his head lolled to face you.

"need you here," he whispered, his blue eyes looking into yours, causing you to bite your lip in thought.

unbeknownst to you, chris had been waiting for an opportunity like this to arise. he had been crushing on you since you moved in, however was always too shy to actually do anything. he'd give you longer glances, and laugh a little harder at your jokes, as well as dance with you in the kitchen, to try and give hints, however you never really caught on.

"i really like you, y/n," he sighed, a hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, "want you to stay."

"you really like me, huh?" you teased, a small smirk on your face, as his cheeks turned a slight pink.

he nodded, eyes blinking slowly, making him look like a tired cat.

"let me take you to dinner,"

"if you remember this conversation in the morning, i'll think about it," you smirked, poking his cheek.

he giggled softly, before pulling you into him, his head resting on your chest, as your nails scratched his scalp.

"thank you, pretty girl," he whispered into your chest, causing you to smile and softly kiss his curly head.

[w2soneshots]

This is the kinda night out I wanna be on🙂‍↕️🙌🏼💓

[smzyyx]

It always makes me sad when people say TV talks too much when he's usually just passionate about something or excited to be spending time with his friends :( could you write something where reader is hanging out with the ukyt crew and the others kind of tune Arthur out when he's talking about something but when he gets quiet because he realizes the others aren't listening, reader says "hey, I'm listening" so he keeps talking?

What were you saying?

Atv x reader - fluff

a/n: This was requested in August so its really late but its one of the only requests i didnt delete because im gonna be so real I face the same thing that Arthur faces a lot with my friends so I just really wanted to write this 😭

masterlist

cw: nothing much but the gang might seem a bit mean

The flat is loud in the way it only ever is when everyone is there. Someone’s brought snacks that are already half gone. There are bodies sprawled across sofas, arms slung over chair backs, people talking over each other without even trying not to. The TV is on but no one’s watching it—just background noise for the chaos.

George is mid-story, gesturing wildly with a bottle in his hand. Isaac’s leaned against the counter with Liv tucked into his side, both of them laughing before the punchline even lands. Arthur Hill and Chris are arguing about something trivial while Yasmine adds commentary purely to wind them up.

You’re curled up on the end of the sofa, knees tucked under you, watching it all like it’s a familiar kind of storm.

“And I’m just saying,” George finishes, “if it wasn’t that deep, then why did it take three of us to figure it out?”

Arthur Hill squints at him. “Because you lot are idiots.”

“Oi,” George says, affronted. “That’s not fair.”

Chris leans forward, eyes lighting up with mischief. “To be fair, George does have a massive head.”

There it is.

Everyone reacts at once—laughter, groans, George instinctively reaching up to pat his hair like he’s checking whether it’s grown since last time.

“It’s proportional!” he protests. “It’s because I’m smart.”

Isaac laughs. “All that intelligence has to fit somewhere.”

Liv adds, deadpan, “You’re basically a Funko Pop.”

The room erupts. George’s laugh is loud and unbothered, hands thrown up in mock surrender. Someone makes a comment about his brain rattling around like a DVD at the back of a drawer.

You laugh too—but out of the corner of your eye, you notice Arthur.

Arthur Frederick has been quiet for a few minutes now, leaned back in the armchair slightly apart from the main cluster. He looks relaxed, legs crossed, hands loosely folded, eyes unfocused like he’s been somewhere else entirely. You recognise the look—it’s the one he gets when something in the conversation nudges a thought loose and his brain just goes.

Right on cue, he straightens a little.

“Well, actually,” he says, voice cutting through the noise with earnest certainty, “head size doesn’t really correlate with intelligence at all.”

There’s a brief lull, not silence, exactly, but a dip in volume as people register he’s speaking.

Arthur sits forward now, warmed up by the opening. “There was this study I was reading, like, a proper analysis, where they looked at cranial volume versus cognitive performance across a pretty large sample size, and the correlation was basically negligible.”

He gestures with his hands as he talks, fingers opening and closing like he’s shaping the idea in the air.

“The thing is, people assume bigger brain equals smarter, but intelligence is way more about neural efficiency than size. It’s about how well-connected everything is. You can have a slightly smaller brain with denser synaptic connections and outperform someone with a larger one.”

George nods politely for about three seconds before his attention drifts back to Chris, who’s whispering something that makes him grin. Isaac checks his phone. Arthur Hill reaches for another snack. Liv leans over to say something to Yasmine, who bursts out laughing.

Arthur keeps going—at first.

“And like, even within humans, the variance is massive. There’s also this misconception that—” He slows, eyes flicking around the room. His hands pause mid-gesture. “—that size is predictive, but it just… isn’t.”

No one’s looking at him anymore.

The realization hits gently, but it hits.

He stops talking.

There’s a small, almost imperceptible smile that crosses his face—the polite kind, the one people use to smooth over the feeling of having misjudged the moment. He leans back into the chair again, folding in on himself just a touch, gaze dropping to his hands.

“Anyway,” he murmurs, more to the room than anyone in it.

The conversation swells back up around him like he was never speaking at all.

Your chest aches.

You’ve been listening the entire time. Not just out of politeness—out of genuine interest. You were already following where he was going, already curious about the study, already anticipating the way he always links one topic to another like stepping stones only he can see.

You shift closer, turning your body toward him.

“Wait,” you say, gently but clearly. “Arthur—what were you saying about neural efficiency?”

He looks up, surprised. “Oh—uh.” He blinks, like he needs a second to recalibrate. “It’s… it’s not important.”

“It is,” you say, shaking your head. “You said the correlation was negligible? But how did they even measure cognitive performance?”

Something changes in his face.

It’s subtle, but unmistakable—the way his eyes brighten, the way his posture straightens without him even noticing. The awkwardness melts away, replaced by quiet excitement.

“Right—yeah. So they used a combination of standardised cognitive tests and longitudinal performance metrics,” he says quickly now, words tumbling out. “Which obviously has its own limitations, but what was interesting was how consistent the results were across different demographics.”

He leans forward again, elbows on his knees.

“And this actually links to something else I found really cool—brain size comparisons across species. Like, cetaceans, for example.”

You smile. You knew it was coming.

“So whales and dolphins have absolutely massive brains—some species have brains way larger than ours—but again, it’s not just the size. It’s the encephalization quotient. That's basically how big the brain is relative to body size.”

He gestures excitedly now, eyes locked on yours like the rest of the room has faded into static.

“Dolphins, especially, have incredibly complex social structures and problem-solving abilities, and a lot of that comes down to cortical folding and neural density rather than sheer volume. Some researchers even think their emotional processing is more sophisticated than ours.”

You nod along, asking softly, “That's why they're so social.”

“Yes!” he says immediately, delighted. “Exactly. There’s evidence to suggest their brains are wired for empathy and cooperation in a way that’s genuinely comparable to humans. Possibly even more nuanced in some respects.”

He laughs under his breath, a little self-conscious but happy. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

You shake your head, resting your chin in your hand. “No, I love this. Tell me more.”

Arthur exhales, smiling properly now—wide and warm and a little disbelieving.

“Well,” he continues, slower this time, more comfortable, “there’s this theory about how intelligence isn’t a straight hierarchy at all. It’s more like… different kinds of optimisation. Humans are good at abstract reasoning, cetaceans are incredible at social cognition, corvids at problem-solving—it’s all just different expressions of complexity.”

The noise of the room carries on around you—laughter, teasing, someone calling George a conehead again—but Arthur doesn’t notice anymore.

Taglist: @whisperturnedecho @forchencookie @willnees @pretendyoucantseeme @tyna-19 @canyouseethesainz @roc-haze @wherethezoes-at @cheekytv @beauty-nd-the-geek @dopeysunflowers @formulaal @pookietv @happyclifford @sapphiccaa @rubi-radio @madsclarkey @sturnl0ve @norrizzandpia @thankyoulovely @williamlenneys

Reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

[luckyywritess]

Friends From Work is four totally straight guys.

[httpclarkey]

🍔

[lostdeerinthemist]

I usually skip this part

[rougetv]

Drunk and Clingy

ArthurTV x fem!reader

SUMMARY: You have to go pick up your boyfriend, Arthur, after a drunk Halloween video with his friends

WARNINGS: swearing, smoking?, making out?

_________________________

The sound of her phone ringing pulls her attention away from whatever crappy horror film was playing on the TV screen, Chris’s name flashing across the screen. She sighs exasperatedly, knowing that the men on the other end of the phone are most likely hammered, having spent the evening filming a video called ‘one shot a minute for an hour’ for Halloween, which realistically can only mean her boyfriend and his friends are off their heads. She rolls her eyes as she picks up her phone, immediately hearing the sound of George’s laughter as when as screaming from Bach and Arthur.

“Hey, Chris” she greets him kindly through the phone, awaiting the alcohol-riddled response from the blonde hobbit, which of course she got.

“Y/n!” Chris’s slurred speech rings through the phone, and she has to bring the phone slightly away from her ear thanks to the sheer volume of a clearly drunk Chris. “Your boyfriend’s drunkkkk!”

A soft, breathy laugh leaves her lips as she shakes her head at the footballer’s childish tone, acting like he was snitching on his misbehaving friend.

“Need me to come pick him up?” as she speaks shes already getting out of hers and Arthur’s bed and throwing on a pair of joggers and the first hoodie she found – which turned out to be her boyfriend’s – knowing Chris was going to ask him to pick him up anyways. “I’ll be there in 10, Chris. You just try to keep him alive.”

_________________________

Her ring-clad fist tapped against the white wooden door of George, Arthur Hill, and Chris’s apartment, already hearing the chaos going on inside, even through the heavy door.

Seconds later the door swings open, a clumsy George, who was wearing a Santa costume for some reason, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to know, standing in front of her with a drunken smile plastered across his lips. “Y/n! Heyyyy!”

A small chuckle leaves her lips, finding the drunken men more amusing than anything else.

“Y’alright, Georgie?” she speaks through her soft giggles as George steps aside to let her into the modernly decorated apartment, stumbling slightly as he shuts the door with a soft click.

The first thing she sees is Bach, wearing a ‘junk mail’ costume – made up of a large envelope with a plastic dick on the other side of the clear plastic window – with he was slinging at a screaming Chris, who looked like he was a 15-year-old girl who had just come from netball practice, in a short skirt and his hoodie.

She turns to the only sober man next to her in a Ghostface costume, who she could only assume was Arthur Hill, with an amused, yet slightly scarred, smile on her lips as she speaks. “Do I even wanna know?”

 All she gets in return is a laugh and a shake of his head, clearly unbothered after living with two of these idiots for so long.

“BABY!”

She spins on her heels at the sudden yell, immediately recognizing her boyfriend’s sweet accent, a loving smile immediately forming on her lip oil coated lips as she takes in his disheveled appearance as he comes out of the bathroom at the end of the hall. There was a tall green hat clinging for dear life onto his head that matched the shitty pineapple costume over his normal clothes, his eyes were glazed over and unfocused thanks to the copious amounts of alcohol in his system, as well as the messy face paint that was literally all over him and stuck in his fluffy brunette hair.

“You think he washed his hands?” George’s voice mutters, probably louder than he meant to but she gave him the benefit of the doubt due to his drunken state. Soft sniggers come from behind her at his comment.

As soon as Arthur was within less than a foot of her, he practically launched himself at her, knocking her back a few steps, but Hill was quick to put a gloved hand on her back, so she wasn’t completely tackled by her teddy bear of a boyfriend.

“Whatcha doin here?” His words came out sloppy and slurred, but the dopey lovesick smile on his face made up for it big time, his eyes full of pure love and adoration for the woman in front of him. One of his large, calloused hands slid up to gently cup her jaw, soothingly rubbing his thumb against the bottom of her cheek.

“Came to pick up my incredibly drunk boyfriend, by the looks of it” She speaks through a small affectionate giggle, looking up at the tall brunette in front of her. Her eyes search his for a second, seeing a small flash of fatigue forming in his eyes, smiling sympathetically, she slips her hands down, intertwining his fingers with her own and attempting to pry his toned arms off her. “C’mon sweetheart. Let’s get you home.”

A surprised squeak slips past her lips as he tugs her close, rather than letting her go, refusing to detach himself from her, while the guys just drunkenly laugh at the way Arthur’s clinging to her like a baby koala.

“Nuh uh”

He shakes his head as he speaks, his lopsided smile only growing at the confusion in her eyes, a small chuckle rumbling from his chest, at nothing in particular, swaying side-to-side in his drunken state.

Eyes glued to the gorgeous woman in front of him – specifically her lips – he simply nods his head towards her, a stupid goofy grin on his face as he puckers his lips, silently asking for a kiss. And who was she to deny him that?

She shakes her head playfully at his intoxicated antics, raising herself up slightly on her tiptoes, given their height difference, and pressing a soft kiss to his lips, tasting the mix of apple cider and southern comfort on his tongue as he moves his lips against hers lovingly.

His body visibly relaxes as her lips meet his, savoring the taste of her strawberry lip oil and a faint hint of cigarettes, something he had come to associate with calmness and love. Muscles tensing as he tightens his grip around her waist, he pulls her impossibly close, swiping his tongue gently across her bottom lip, silently pleading for entrance in an attempt to deepen the kiss.

Thanks to said liquor, Arthur really couldn’t care less about the jokey gagging and feigned disgust from his drunk, single friends, too lost in the feeling of passionately kissing the woman he loves. But Y/n could.

Her manicured hands quickly land on his shoulders, reluctantly pushing away as she reminded his three drunken friends and their shitty ‘enforcer’ of the night are less than 2 feet away, swallowing hard as she takes a deep gulp of much needed oxygen.

The pineapple-clad brunette practically whines as he feels his girlfriend’s lips leave his, pushing his head towards her again, desperately trying to continue the make out, pouting like a child as she slowly pushes off him, not wanting to put a show of PDA on for a bunch of intoxicated idiots.

Another soft laugh slips from between her lips, which no longer have a neat layer of lip oil on and instead are slightly swollen and messy. She rolls her eyes playfully as she swipes her thumb just under her bottom lip, ridding of the smudged product, huffing out a sigh of mock annoyance.

“Come on, sweetheart. Time to go” She softens her voice as she speaks, her tone full of affection for her lovesick puppy of a boyfriend, who looked like he was about to beg for another kiss.

“Arthur, listen to your girlfriend, man. You’re hammered” Hill, being the only one of a sound mind, speaks up, bringing a hand down to pat Arthur’s shoulder reassuringly, smiling kindly at his namesake.

Letting out a huff on annoyance, he reluctantly detaches himself from his loving girlfriend, unwrapping his arms from her but immediately interlocking his hand with hers, needing to be touching her in any way possible at all times.

“Clingyyyy” Chris’s drunken, sing-song voice rings out, directing his comment at the dependent brunette, a loud laugh ripping from his throat as he speaks. “Like his 26th party all over again!”

Y/n can’t help but laugh along with the other guys as she recalls the night of Arthur’s 26th birthday party. That night he was in an absolute state after a few too many rounds of ‘alcohol roulette’ and ended up calling out for his girlfriend so loud that the party had come to a complete halt, only to find out she had only gone to the bathroom.

A grunt of annoyance comes from deep in Arthur’s throat, placing his hands on her hips, pressing his chest against her back and burying his face into the crook of her neck, clearly embarrassed by the memory, even though he’s more than aware of how clingy he gets when he’s had a few too many.

She laughs once more, shaking her head at Arthur and immediately grabbing his hands off her hips, knowing they’ll end up right back at square one if he attaches himself to her again.

_________________________

After bidding goodbye to each of the guys, with her clingy boyfriend attached to her in some way or another the whole time, she guides Arthur out of the cushy apartment building and into her car, smiling lovingly as he stares at her and mutters slurred compliments the entire way home.

Hand-in-hand, she leads him out of her car and through the stairs and hallways up to their shared flat, supporting the majority of his weight as he stumbled alongside her, mumbling incoherent nonsense in her ear as she unlocks their front door.

Her touch gentle and soft, she guides him through the apartment to their bedroom, ridding of him hoodie for him so he doesn’t overheat during the night and placing a cold glass of water on the nightstand on his side of the bed, before his intoxicated whiny voice breaks the comfortable silence between them.

“Lovey…?”

Her eyes immediately flick over to meet his, from her spot by the tall wardrobe, where she had been changing into one of his shirts, which she uses every night as makeshift pyjamas, finding comfort in wearing his clothes rather than her own. “What is it, baby?”

All she gets in return is another small whine and his sleeper build arms reaching out from beneath the plush duvet, balling up and unbaling his fists as he makes grabby hands as her, earning a soft laugh from her as she clambers into bed with him, slipping under the duvet and making herself comfortable as he clings onto her again.

He tugs her towards him, lying them both on their sides and nuzzling his face into her chest and breathing out a content sigh as he wraps his arms tightly around her, not planning on letting go of her any time soon. Having the woman he loves wrapped in his arms and the soothing feeling of her slender manicured fingers toying with the short hairs at the nape of his neck makes his eyes immediately flutter shut, unable to stop a glimmer of a smile on his lips as he falls asleep.

_________________________

I’m so in love with this man its crazy

also I have no clue if smoking is a warning or not so sorry that I didn’t write that in my ArthurTV and ItalianBach fic xx