summary: you’re a driver in formula one and get into a serious crash whilst will is filming
masterlist | main masterlist
The sun burned down onto the tarmac of Imola, heat shimmering off the asphalt, tension vibrating through the paddock. You were locked in, your helmet on, gloves fastened, strapped into the cockpit of your Alpine with intense focus. It was race day, a stormy mix of nerves and adrenaline flowing through your veins, just the way you liked it.
Back in London, the usual chaos of Will’s filming schedule was unfolding. He and James were halfway through a new second channel video, that obviously including the famous good bin bad bin, and a bunch of nonsensical products and a very confused production team. But Will wasn’t really in it today, not fully.
His mind focusing on the race happening just two hours away and the fact that you were on track.
His eyes constantly flickering to the small screen of Orla’s laptop that was propped up behind the camera setup, streaming the race live. The crew knew what to do, the same ordeal happening every race weekend for the past two years. Ieuan had helped rig the stream to keep it discreet but visible, Orla had her phone open with live race telemetry, and Aby occasionally piped up with lap times between takes.
“She’s in P6 now,” Orla called out, pretending to adjust a mic on James’s hoodie.
Will exhaled through his nose, half-relieved, “Come on, baby,” he muttered under his breath.
James threw a playful glance his way, “You’re more invested in that screen than this whole video.”
“Mate, my girlfriend is doing 300kph in a tin can. Excuse me if my brain’s not on what products are shit,” Will snapped, though there wasn’t any real heat behind it.
They filmed for a while longer, bits of James making crude comments, quick brand deals, an argument about cheese that Will couldn’t even fake interest in. The screen blinked with lap 42. You were holding P5 now, DRS on the car ahead. The team radio crackled faintly in the background, and Will couldn’t stop smiling.
Until everything stopped.
The camera was rolling; James was mid-sentence.
And then: the sound.
A collective, visceral gasp echoed from Orla’s side of the room.
The screen showed your car, well what was left of your car, no, hurtling into the barrier at Tamburello. Carbon fibre exploding on the impact, debris skittering like fireflies across the track. You had lost the rear. Hard.
First was smoke and then the silence followed.
Will froze.
“No, no, no, no, no.” He stood so fast his chair skidded back with a screech.
His face drained of any colour as he stepped toward the screen like it could give him answers, “Where is she? Where is she? why haven’t they cut to her?”
The camera angle changed and there was med staff sprinted toward the wreckage with the safety car being deployed but there was still no sign of movement.
“Fucking hell,” Will whispered, his hand shaking as he reached for his phone. He hadn’t even realized James had crossed the room until he was pulled into a tight, grounding hug.
“She’s tough, mate,” James said, trying to keep his own voice steady, “She’s the toughest person I’ve ever met. Just breathe.”
Will didn’t respond. He couldn’t. He was spiraling.
Aby handed him a glass of water, as Orla was trying to call contacts at Alpine. Ieuan was frantically pulling up Twitter, live F1 feeds, anything. The screen now showed the red flag.
Will sat on one of the chair, his shoulders shaking as his breaths came out in broken gasps with his knuckles digging into his eyes.
“I should’ve gone with her,” he muttered over and over, “Why didn’t I go with her?”
The flight to Bologna felt like years.
Will hadn’t slept, not even a minute. His eyes were bloodshot, red-rimmed and puffy by the time the cab dropped him outside the hospital. He could barely comprehend the ride over or entering the hospital. All he remembered was the receptionist saying your name, confirming you were okay and stable and in surgery.
The rest of the team had been texting him nonstop. Alpine had released a brief statement: minor concussion, fractured wrist, bruised ribs and out for a few weeks. But you were alert and talking.
Still, nothing would calm Will until he saw you, until he saw with his own eyes that you were okay.
Hours had passed and Will paced and he waited.
Until finally, a nurse gave him the nod, “She’s waking up.”
He slipped into the dimly lit recovery room, nerves shredding him from the inside out. You were just lying there, pale, bruised but alive. Wires and monitors tethered to you, bandages wrapped around your arm and forehead.
And then you blinked, “Will?” Your voice was rasped and throat dry.
He rushed to your side instantly, gripping your good hand like it was the only thing tethering him to reality. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, “Hi, love.”
You squinted at him, studying his tired, tearstained face, “Bloody hell. You look like you hit the barrier.”
Despite everything, a soft, hoarse chuckle escaped you.
Will let out a laugh that was a half-sob, dropping his forehead to the bed beside your arm, “Don’t ever do that again,” he whispered.
You squeezed his hand, “Didn’t plan on it.”
He looked up, brushing your hair back carefully, “I was watching with everyone. I thought, I thought I lost you.”
“I’m okay,” you whispered, “You ain’t getting rid of me that easy, Lenney.”
Will blinked at you, voice low and cracking, “You scared the absolute shit out of me.”
“Guess I had to make sure you’d fly to Italy.”
You both laughed, broken and breathless, but the sound was full of love and relief. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead.
“I love you,” he murmured, “I love you so much.”
“Good,” you said, smiling sleepily. “Because I plan on being very dramatic and milking this crash for at least a month. You’re on tea duty.”
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summary: you come home from uni to visit your family and on an impromptu visit to your local pub with some friends you bump into alfie - though he doesn’t look anything like he did in school
a/n: i have not edited this, so if you see any mistakes ignore them or politely let me know! but i hope you enjoy anyways even though it’s probably a complete mess.
main masterlist | masterlist
cw: car sex, riding, switch! alfie, switch! reader, alcohol consumption, smoking (cigarettes), slight overstim. theres anything else let me know!
It was just any other weekend of you visiting home. Seeing your parents for a bit, your mother badgering you about your classes, your father telling her to give you space to breathe. Then it was visiting your grandparents who, like usual, overfed you to the point you thought you were going to burst. So, when Poppy asked if you wanted to go for a drink or two with the rest of the girls you obviously said yes. A quiet night with your girls like old times, just the thing you needed to round out your short trip home.
Harrogate never failed to feel smaller when you came home from Uni, but that familiar buzz of the local you had grown up in pulls you back into your old ways, laughing and mouthing off like you had never left.
You were laughing with Louise behind the bar when you felt him squeeze up next you asking for two pints and vodka lemonade. You turned towards the voice, the face all too familiar but something was different.
Alfie Buttle was stood next to you with a lazy smirk that complimented his sharp, charming features. He looked good, he wasn’t that lanky boy from school anymore.
Instead he stood taller, towering over you, and his shoulders were broader filling out his shirt in a way that made you pause. You physically had to force yourself to turn away from him, but as you did your eyes caught the curve of his bicep as he leaned casually against the bar: when did he get so hot?
“Didn’t think I’d see you back here so soon,” he says, flashing a half-smile that held a cockiness that hadn’t been there before, “yknow going to a fancy uni and that.”
You let out a small laugh, pretending you weren’t suddenly overly aware of how close you were to him, “Yeah, just visiting for the weekend. We should,” you start, and then the lie tumbling out a little too easily, “catch up soon.”
“Sure,” he nodded but the promise is just as empty as yours.
Louise placed down both of your drinks looking between you with a knowing look before shooing you both away. You grabbed your drink, “Well, it was nice seeing you, Alfie.” You flashed him a smile before walking back to your table pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.
Alfie turned back to his mates while you rejoin your own. Both of you sitting down on opposite sides of the pubs yet completely taking over each other’s thoughts. Your friends continued chat about their lives and no matter how hard you tried to listen, to engage in the conversation, you kept catching yourself looking across the room.
And each time, his low lidded eyes were already latched onto you.
Hours had passed, you were now a good few vodka cranberries deep and had stepped into the smoking area with one of the girls, the crisp autumn air pouring over you like ice as you left the warm of the pub. As you lit your cigarette, you listened to Poppy’s rambles about a boy from the village she had been speaking to over the last few months and how he is speaking to other girls as well. You were trying so hard to keep up with her fumbling but your mind wa still preoccupied by Alfie, and his arms, and his lips.
“Oh, hi, Alfie.” Poppy greeted, her red hair bouncing as she waved him over.
He slid into the small huddle you had created with a practiced ease standing just close enough so that your arm brushed his when you shifted your weight. The heat radiating off of him was dizzying under the frost of the air. He didn’t say much as Poppy continued her rant, he just glanced between you and the cigarette resting between your lips.
“Mind if I…?” he asked, gesturing to it.
You plucked it from your lips handing it over without a word, fixated on the way his lips curl around the filter, the way his eyes meet yours as he inhaled. Something shifted in the air. Poppy mumbles something about heading back inside, but you barely hear her go.
The silence between the pair of you was vibrating in your ears as you passed the cigarette back and forth for a little while until he leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “You got plans after this?”
You shook your head before you could even process what was about to happen and then within minutes you were stumbling into the back of his Defender with the door clicking shut behind you trapping you against him.
The faint smell of aftershave and pine wrapped around you as you shifted trying to catch your breath but before you could, Alfie’s arms caged you against the seat. His lips crashed against yours with a maddening heat. Every touch sending heat up your spine making you curl into him.
Your fingers tangled in the fabric covering his shoulders, clutching him close as his weight pressed you deeper into the leather. The SUV’s suspension groaning with each shift of his frame, his hands becoming greedier by the second, one pressed into the small of your back pulling you flush against him, the other sliding under the tight fabric of your top. His palm splayed flat across your skin sliding higher until his thumb brushed against the edge of your laced bra.
A low groan escaped his throat as he pressed himself into you, the feeling of his length hardening against you making you gasp. His mouth parted from your, his breath ragged as his mouth trailed lower, crossing your jaw and down the length of your throat leaving marks in his wake. You arched higher into him when his teeth grazed the delicate skin of your collarbone arched into him when his teeth grazed the delicate skin there, and his answer was a low moan against your soft skin.
Suddenly, you were pulled from your lying position and into his lap, your knees bracketing his thighs. The unexpected shift pushed any air from your lungs, and the solid heat of him pressed against yours through denim became impossible to ignore. His large hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding your hips urging you to move against him. The friction made your breath hitch and you tipped your head back against the cool leather of the headrest of the passenger seat as you continued to rock in the clumsy rhythm.
“I’ve always wanted this, yknow,” he murmured against the base of your next, the hand on your hip now at the back of your next as he pulled you into another deeper, filthier kiss. Each movement rushed as your tongues and teeth clashed in dominance. Alfie only winning when his hand slid over the thin lace, the pad of his thumb brushing against your nipple until it pebbled under his touch and your helpless sounds filled the small space of his car.
The windows of the car fogged from the heat that engulfed you, every slight movement making the car shift. Time felt nonexistent against the heat of his mouth and the strength of his grip. The feeling of him bucking up into your clothed heat making quiet gasps slip from your lips, the clothes keeping you from feeling every inch of his body against yours felt unbearable. Each kiss that was peppered on your kiss felt like a sacred promise that was seconds away from spilling from him.
His hands roamed freely as if you were only his to explore, and as your hips rolled in-sync with his, you knew exactly where this was heading and neither of you had any intention of stopping.
The hands under your top moved until they were gripping the hem and you detached from him with a soft whine letting him rip the fabric off your body. Before you could even move, he pushed the fabric of your bra from your tits, and his lips attached themselves to your nipple sucking and licking until unholy words trickled from your mouths and your hands threaded into his hair.
“You’re fucking unreal.” Alfie muttered, his eyes glistening as he stared up at you, “Like an angel.”
You felt your face burn at his compliment suddenly very aware about the situation at hand. His hands fell to your waist, his thumbs drawing mindless shapes as he continued his assault on your nipple making your head drop back between your shoulder blades.
“Fuck,” The breathless word fell from your mouth as your hips ground down making him grip you tighter, “please.”
The plead would’ve went unheard if Alfie’s every sense wasn’t focused on you buy the second it met his ears; he swung into action. He shifted positions, moving you to lay along the back bench once again and he tugged his shirt off his frame rolling it into a ball and slotting it under your head which made your heart melt.
Then he moved to his buckle and his button, and suddenly you were grateful that you had chosen a skirt tonight. Alfie’s roughs found the fat of your thighs massaging into them lightly making you mewl, and with each sound he travelled closer to where you want him the most.
His fingers slipped around the waist band of your matching lace underwear, and he pulled them down not needing anymore permission when you lifted your hips to give him access.
They fell to the floor of his car and he stared at you for a moment. Your hair haloing your head, body glistening with sweaty under the moonlight that filtered the car, almost completely bare for him.
“I can’t believe this is real,” He muttered, his hands tracing your outline as he took in everything that was happening.
Your hands ran up his torso outlining every inch of his body before meeting his shoulders, “Kiss me, please.”
Alfie groaned at your words, the pure want and need in your voice going straight to his dick making it throb. His lips attached to yours again and he caged your head between his arms, his biceps inches away from your face. Your hands slid from his shoulders, nails biting into the muscles of his arms and your legs wrapped themselves around his waist pulling him down.
Taking the hint, Alfie reached between you flicking up your skirt and his fingers slid over your hole which was dripping, “Shit.”
“Just fuck me.”
A breath hitched in his throat as his throat bobbed with a gulp, and he nodded lining up his leaking tip with your heat. A needy gasp fell on his ears as he slid in slowly making your back arch into him locking against him like a jigsaw, “Fuck,” you gritted.
“You okay?” He whispered, his thumb wiping away a small tear that fell from your eye, “We can stop.”
“Just,” You whimpered, “Just keep going, please.”
He nodded bucking into you once again making you bite down on your lip trying to keep the noise that were bubbling in your throat at bay, “Don’t go quiet on me now, princess.”
Your eyes screwed shut as your lips parted a moan leaving your mouth before you could even process it. Each of his thrusts hitting right where you need it, your nails dug so deep into his skin that you were scared you’d break skin. Quickly, your hands unlatched from his biceps and scrapped along his abs making him hiss at the sensation.
His arms moved from the leather of the seats and he scooped you up in one movement moving to sit back and you placed delicately on his lap, “So fucking pretty.” He muttered, his hands cupping your tits as you slid off his dick before dropping back down again followed by a string of unintelligible words from Alfie as he tipped his head back letting you take over.
Your hips rolled forwards as your lips met the soft skin under his ear, and he shivered pulling you close feeling you smile against his skin, “C’mon girl, show me what you can do.” He muttered against your hairline.
You straightened at his words looping your hands around his neck rolling your hips once again before bouncing slightly, his cock rubbing against your gspot making you mewl quietly as you continued your pace chasing the high you had been thinking about since you locked eyes in the pub.
“Keep doing that,” He whimpered, one his hands fondling your tit as the other wrapped itself around your neck, adding no pressure just sitting there.
You couldn’t deny that he looked pretty like this. His curls a mess from your hands, his lips plumb and red from his hungry attacks on you, and his eyes doey and soft as you made his melt like putty in your hands. If every boy you fucked looked like this, you wouldn’t stop.
“You’re so pretty like this,” You muttered into his ears as you leaned forward making him whimper, “So pretty for me.”
You pulled away slightly looking down at him and he was staring back in a haze. His lips were puckered politely inviting you for a kiss and you obliged swallowing the soft moans that were continuously tumbling from his lips with each roll of his lips.
“I’m so close,” he managed to gasp out as he squeezed your waist holding you impossibly close to his chest moving his hips in time with yours as you both felt the pressure build at the bottom of your stomachs, “please.”
“Wait,” You whispered, “wait for me.”
He nodded, his bottom lip jutting out as your hand fell from his shoulder finding your swollen, neglected clit as your leaned back fitting into the slot of the front seats. Alfie continued to drill himself into you as your fingers clumsily swirled your clit making your moans grow louder.
Watching your every movement, the way your hips lifted when his tip scrapped the right spot and the way you twitched with each swirl of your fingers. He reached out pushing your hand away from your cunt replacing it with his own, his thumb firm against the sensitive area.
“Fuck, Alfie.” Your hips bucked, squeezing against him tightly making him hiss, “I’m gonna come.”
You pounced forward leaning your forehead against his peppering kiss on his face as your bodies moved in unison, both of you chasing the same thing.
“It’s okay, baby,” You reassured, brushing his damp curls out of his face as you nodded, “Let go for me.”
You both rutted against each other in a desperate attempt to finish and Alfie seed spurted into you as he let out a groan that echoed through the car and he went limp under you. You stilled your movements, placing a soft kiss on his cheek bone and you went to remove yourself from his lap but his hands latched to your thighs before you could.
“You didn’t finish.”
He looked up at you with in a fucked-out daze and you smiled, “It’s okay, don’t worry.”
“No,” He muttered, “keep going.”
Your eyes widened as you stuttered over your words, “Are you sure?”
“Please.”
“Okay.”
You started to move your hips against him again, his limp cock hardening inside you again as his sounds of discomfort turned into whines of pleasure, his hands guiding you along his as his thumb circled your clit expertly, “that feels, fuck.”
His mouth dropped open and his noises spurred you on even more as the knot in your stomach started to build again with each thrust into you, “doing so good, fuck.”
Your words turned into babbles as your orgasm washed over you, your body went limp against Alfie’s, and he lifted you carefully sliding himself out of you making you whine at the loss.
“I’m gonna take you back to mine, okay?” He asked, brushing your hair over your shoulder pressing a soft kiss there and you nodded.
“I’d like that yeah.”
He gave you a lopsided smile before reaching into the boot grabbing his discarded clothes and a hoodie, he always kept there handing it to you with a chaste kiss on your lips that had you smiling like a fool.
summary: harry offers to help get over your heartbreak.
warning: mature content (18+ only)
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Harry hadn’t really been someone you paid much attention to; he was just there. A friend of a friend really, you couldn’t think of a singular conversation you had with him that was more than two words.
But tonight, something was different. Maybe it was the drinks; maybe it was the mess your ex left you in; maybe it was how Harry’s been looking at you all night like he’s seeing you properly for the first time.
You were one too many drinks deep, tucked into a booth away from the others as you drowned in your pities alone. That was until Harry slipped in next you not saying a word, just watching the group dance wildly. His thigh pressed against yours, his hand rests casually on your knee like it had been there many times before as fingers tapped against your skin in a rhythm that drove you crazy.
He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, "You know," he murmured, his voice low and rough from drinking and shouting over music all night, "I could help you forget about him."
You whipped your head around to look at him, half-laughing, half-shocked, “Yeah?" your response came out like a breath, the word slipping out before you can second guess yourself.
The grin on his face made your stomach flip, "Yeah."
His hand slid higher on your thigh, a slow and deliberate as if he was testing the water. Your breath hitched, as your eyes flickered to where his hand was and back up to his blown pupils. He was so close that you could smell the whiskey on him making your head spin.
"You don’t deserve to sit here feeling like shit because of some idiot," he said, words slurred just enough to be dangerous, "Let me fix it."
Your mind was a blur of Harry's blue eyes, the feeling of his hand on your bare skin, the heavy pulse of the music thudding through your chest. You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly you were kissing him desperately, like you need him to breathe.
He groaned against your mouth, deep and guttural, gripping your waist and pulling you into his lap. You gasp when his teeth graze your bottom lip, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue slid against yours in a way that made your whole body shudder.
Around you, the bar keeps buzzing with blurred laughter, clinking glasses but none of it registers. All you could focus on was Harry and the way his hands travelled over your skin like they belonged there.
"Fuck," he muttered against your lips, tugging you even closer, "You’re driving me mad."
Before your mind could catch up you were being guided out of the booth, Harry’s hand in yours pulling you towards the dark hallway near the bathrooms. He spun you around pushing you against the wall the second you’re out of sight, and his hands were everywhere - your waist, your hips, under your shirt.
"You sure?" he rasped, his forehead pressed to yours, breathing just as ragged you.
"Yes," you whispered, not a second of hesitation. "God, yes."
And after that there was no more talking. Just heat, and hands, and mouths. Harry’s kissing you like he was starving, like he needed you to survive. His hands at the edge of your shirt, dragging it up slightly, and honestly? you didn’t care if anyone saw, you just need him, now.
Every movement was messy and reckless, but it was exactly what you need.
And the second Harry mutters, "Forget about him. Just me. Just us," against your skin, you let yourself believe it.
For tonight anyway.
Harry’s mouth is everywhere possible, your neck, your collarbone, the curve of your jaw. Desperate kisses being pressed to your burning skin like he can’t get enough of you.
Your back hits the wall with a soft thud as he pressed himself into you fully, his body hot and solid against yours. One of his hands slipped up your side and under your shirt, his thumb grazing the underside of your bra. You gasp into his mouth, fingers knotting into his shirt, tugging him impossibly closer.
"You feel so good," Harry gasped, his voice rough and needy. His hands were shameless, sliding under the hem of your jeans, thumbs tracing circles over your hips. You shiver, hips tilting toward him instinctively, needing something, needing him.
He groans low in his throat, feeling you grind against him, "Fuck, y/n," he muttered, forehead falling to rest against yours again. His hips rock into you sending heat sparking through your veins.
"You sure you wanna do this here?" he asked, trailing kisses down your neck, sucking a mark just above your collarbone that made your knees buckle.
You nodded frantically, tugging at his shirt, "Please," you begged, breathless, needy, "I need you."
The way the words tumbled from your mouth made something snap in him. His hand slipped down the front of your jeans without hesitation, fingers finding you through your underwear, making you whimper into his mouth.
"Shit," Harry hissed, feeling how wet you were, "All this for me?"
You whimpered something that might be his name as his fingers teased you slowly through the thin fabric in maddening strokes that made your head fall back against the wall.
"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he murmured, his voice thick with lust.
His free hand slips up under your shirt, finally unclasping your bra with a clumsy flick, and his mouth was on you again pressing hot open-mouthed kisses across your chest as his fingers dipped beneath your underwear.
The moan that slipped passed your lips as he touched you for the first time was helpless, coming out louder than you had planned but your brain was too scrambled for you to think straight. Harry lips met yours in a hard kiss muffling your needy sounds, his tongue sliding against yours in the kisses that turned into all teeth and desperation.
"You're gonna be the fucking death of me," he growled against your mouth, two fingers sliding inside you and curling just right making your hips jerk against his hand.
You were barely hanging on, clutching at his shoulders, his hair, whatever you could hold on to as his fingers worked in and out of you expertly bringing you toward the edge. His thumb brushed your clit in devastatingly slow circles, and you knew you weren’t going to last much longer.
"Come for me," Harry muttered, voice dark and completely wrecked, his mouth on your ear. "Wanna feel you lose it."
It only took a few more thrust of his finger before you were falling apart them, muffling your cry against his mouth, your body shuddering through the waves of pleasure.
Harry kept you pinned to the wall through it, kissing you like he never wants to stop, like you're the only thing in the world.
When you finally pull away catching your breath, chest heaving against his, you realize he’s still rock hard - pressed against your hip, his breathing ragged against your bare shoulder. Every nerve in your body still buzzing, but the sight of him desperate, trembling slightly, and needing you lit a whole new fire under your skin.
You smirked, feeling bolder now, tipsy on adrenaline and the way Harry’s still clinging to you like he might fall apart without your touch.
"Your turn?" you whispered, your voice breathy as you brushed your hand lightly over the thick length of him straining against his jeans.
He groaned, a sound so low and broken that it vibrates through your chest, and before you can tease him further, he grabs your wrist - firm but careful - and guides your hand properly into his jeans, pushing past the waistband of his boxers.
"Be a good girl and help me out then," he murmured, pressing his forehead hard against yours, like he’s barely holding it together.
You slid your hand around him, feeling him just how big and hot he was against your palm, and Harry cursed under his breath, hips jolting up into your hand instinctively. His fingers dug into your waist like he needed the grounding, the control, but you felt it slipping from him.
"Fuck, just like that," he moaned, eyes squeezing shut as you start to move your hand slowly, teasingly, dragging your thumb across his tip to smear the precum leaking there.
His pants in your ear, muttering half-formed curses and your name like it’s the only word he knows. Every sharp breath he takes, every broken sound he makes, fueling you, makinh you stroke him harder, faster, feeling him twitch helplessly in your hand.
"Y/n…" he groaned, low and ragged, "Gonna lose it if you keep lookin’ at me like that."
You bit your lip, watching him, his cheeks flushed and jaw tight as his chest heaved against yours, completely under your control. He pressed you harder into the wall, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as you kept working him with your hand.
"You close?" you whispered, biting back a smile as you squeezed him a little tighter, flicking your wrist just right.
He shuddered violently against you, "Fuck, yeah. Shit. y/n."
And then he came undone in your hand, hips jerking against you in tiny, desperate thrusts as he spills over your fingers, gasping your name like a prayer into your neck. You guide him through it, a slow pace and tender words leaving your lips, until he was trembling against you, totally fucked.
He leaned his whole weight against you for a second, breathing hard, forehead still pressed to your shoulder. His hands find your hips again his thumb absent-mindedly drawing shapes into your skin.
"You're trouble," he muttered against your skin with a small laugh. There was no bite behind it, just something warm, almost disbelieving.
You laughed softly, slightly dizzy with the power of it all, with him.
You were both wrecked.
Still pressed against the wall, hearts thundering, limbs tangled, breathing each other in like oxygen. Harry’s forehead resting against yours, and for a long second, neither of you moved.
The distant thrum of the bar seeped back into focus - the music, the laughter, the clatter of glasses. You blinked up at him, dazed, and Harry gives you a crooked smile.
His fingers brushed your cheek, gentler now, tracing the curve of your jaw like he couldn’t quite believe you were real, "You alright?"
You gave a small nod, still too breathless to speak, and Harry leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips. It was different now, it wasn’t frantic or not desperate. It was warm and steady, his thumb stroking your cheek like he was trying to calm you down, ground you.
"Come on," he murmured after a moment, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes, "Let’s get out of here, yeah?"
You barely managed a nod before he laces his fingers with yours and tugging you toward the exit. You catch a glimpse of your friends across the bar - no one’s noticed you’re gone, too deep in their own drunken chaos.
The cool night air hit you like a slap, but Harry's hand tightened around yours, keeping you steady. He pulled out his phone with the other, ordering an Uber with fumbling fingers while you both giggled like teenagers sneaking out past curfew.
Minutes later, you were bundled into the backseat of an Uber, crammed close together, the space crackling with something electric and new. Harry slouched low, spreading his legs wide, and pulling you into his side without a second thought.
You dropped your head to his shoulder, suddenly so tired that your eyelids felt heavy. His arm loops around you, hand resting low on your hip, fingers idly tracing patterns against your side.
"You’re so pretty," he mumbled into your hair, his breath warm against your temple, "Dunno why he ever let you go."
Your throat tightened unexpectedly. You turn your face into his neck, inhaling the scent of him and squeezed your eyes shut.
"He's an idiot," Harry said firmly, voice thick with sleep but something else, "You deserve better."
You shifted slightly, looking up at him, and he met your gaze, his eyes bright even in the dim cab light.
"Like you?" you whispered, half-teasing, half-terrified.
He chuckled, "Yeah," he replied, no hesitation, "Like me."
You stared at each other for maybe a beat too long, and then Harry lent down, kissing you again slowly, sweetly and a little clumsy.
By the time the cab pulled up outside his building, you were half asleep on his chest, and he was rubbing circles into your back, murmuring nonsense under his breath.
Harry paid the driver, pulling you into his side again, and lead you upstairs.
And when he pulled you into his bed, curling himself around you like you’re something precious that needed to be protected, you realized that you weren’t thinking about your ex at all anymore.
Only Harry and he held you like he already knows he’s never letting go.
summary: your son comes home with some interesting news about will after the school run.
masterlist | main masterlist
You were lying on the sofa with yours and Will’s six-month-old baby girl, Matilda (or Tilly for short), babbling away on your chest, chewing on a teething toy as you nodded along to her noises, pretending to make clueless conversation with the baby.
Will had gone to do the school run to pick up your eldest, Noah, who had just started nursery - something he did every day while you did the drop-offs.
You gasped at Tilly’s cooing, leaning into the moment like you were gossiping with a friend. You made her head bob with the sounds, and the teething toy slapped against your chest, making you grimace as the slobber covered your chest. “Oh, thank you, sweet girl,” you said, wiping your chest with a muslin cloth and placing a soft kiss on the top of her head.
“You want this back?” you asked, offering her the blue teething toy as she reached out to grab it. “Well done!”
The sound of the front door clicking open made a smile spread across your face. You scooped Tilly up to sit her straight, preparing for the impending tackle from your three-year-old.
The uncoordinated running of little feet filled the house, followed by Will’s familiar protests to take off shoes. 'Mummy!' Noah’s voice echoed through the house, and your heart melted.
“Hi, baby!” you greeted, opening your free arm for him to climb into your hold while balancing Tilly on your side. “How was school?”
“So fun! I painted, I played with friends,” Noah replied enthusiastically.
He buried his face into your hip as he recounted his day at nursery. Will walked into the room, his face lit with a smile as he looked at his little family with pride.
Noah suddenly sat up straight with a serious look on his face. “Guess what, mummy?”
“What, sweetie?”
Will took a seat next to you, gently transferring Tilly into his arms. He kissed the top of her head, causing her to squeal before she snuggled under his chin.
“Daddy got called han’some,” Noah stated matter-of-factly, making you glance at Will in amusement. He avoided your gaze, his face flushed with a sheepish smile.
“Did he?”
Noah nodded, humphing as he climbed onto your lap, tugging lightly at your hair. “Yeah, by Wes’ mummy.”
“By Wes’ mummy? Really?” you questioned, raising an eyebrow. Will cleared his throat awkwardly, glancing at the floor.
“What did daddy say to Wes’ mummy?”
Will rose from the sofa, lifting a sleeping Tilly into his arms as he carefully walked her to the travel cot beside the coffee table, planting a soft kiss on her forehead as he placed her down gently - clearly trying to escape the conversation.
“Tank you. My wife thinks so too.”
“Why don’t you go play while mummy and daddy make dinner hm?” You ushered your son off your lap with a soft tap on his hip, and he ran to his playroom excitedly.
A laugh escaped your lips as you turned to face your husband. His face was now bright red.
“You cocky bastard.” You shook your head in disbelief. “Did you really say that?”
“Well, obviously,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “You do think I’m handsome, so I weren’t lying.”
You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “You’re very lucky that it’s true, Mr. Lenney, and that I love you.” Your hands cupped his jaw, turning his face gently toward you as your fingers traced circles over his pale skin.
Will’s eyes never left yours, a soft intensity in them as he studied the features of your face - the ones he fell in love with so many years ago and has continued to fall in love with every day since.
“I was going to tell you.”
“Will, I don’t care,” you chuckled. “I’m the one you come home to at the end of the day.”
A smile broke out on his face as he leaned into your touch. “I love you.”
“I know,” you replied with a playful smirk, making him shoot up from his peaceful position on the sofa.
“I love you too,” you murmured, he tackled you into his arms, pulling you onto his lap.
“That’s what I thought,” he whispered, holding you tightly as you giggled to yourself.
You leaned down, pressing your lips to his in a soft kiss. Will melted into you, his warm hands trailing up under your sports bra.
You pulled back with a teasing smile. “Stop it.”
He held his hands up in mock surrender. “Can’t blame a man for trying.”
You stood up, glancing over your shoulder as his eyes followed you. “Later,” you teased.
“That better be a promise, missy.”
You turned your head just enough to catch the look on Will’s face - smug, hopeful, and utterly besotted.
“Depends how well you help with dinner,” you said over your shoulder, smirking as you wandered into the kitchen. You could hear the familiar creak of the sofa as he stood, followed by the quiet thud of his footsteps trailing behind you.
“Are you bribing me with affection to get out of chopping onions?”
“Maybe.” You grabbed the chopping board, sliding a few vegetables toward him. “Besides, I distinctly remember promising later, not never.”
Will stepped behind you, arms snaking around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder. “Then I’d better earn it.”
You hummed softly, leaning into him just for a second before nudging him away with your hip. “You’re not getting out of helping. Baby monitor’s right there. Let’s see if we can make it through dinner without waking the baby or setting off the fire alarm.”
As Will began slicing with exaggerated care - tongue poking out in mock concentration - you glanced toward the living room where Noah’s happy chatter floated in from the playroom. Tilly stirred briefly in the travel cot but settled again, her tiny chest rising and falling in peaceful rhythm.
The house smelled like garlic and warmth, filled with the kind of background noise only families produce - chopping, humming, little footsteps, soft baby breaths.
Will leaned over suddenly, brushing his lips against your cheek. “You know,” he murmured, “I never imagined I’d get so lucky. You, the kids... this.”
You turned to face him fully, fingers still holding the wooden spoon. “This is the dream, right?”
“The absolute dream,” he said, pulling you closer again. “But I still expect to cash in on that promise.”
You laughed, head falling against his chest. “I’m counting on it.”
summary: you’re chris’ younger sister who has a crush on his best friend. you’ve spent the past two years hiding your feelings from him - until you all end up in a club for your brothers birthday.
masterlist | main masterlist
It was Chris’ birthday, and the club was buzzing - sweaty bodies packed wall to wall, lights flickering in a wild fashion, and the bass thumping so loudly into your body that you could feel your bones rattling.
And then there was George.
Chris' best mate, who also happened to live with him. The flatmate that was usually sprawled across the sofa like he owns it, always laughing a little too loud, and wearing that damn smirk that somehow manages to be annoyingly hot. The one who never looks at you quite long enough for you to know if it's in your head, or if he knows.
Tonight, he's in black. Black tshirt, black trousers, black rings on his fingers that you definitely shouldn't be noticing, and that same cocky look that had been messing with your head since you first met him.
You’ve already messed up twice - once when you bumped into him trying to get to the bar and literally apologized to the wall, and again when he asked you how your classes were going and you forgot how to pronounce your own degree.
You’re tried so hard to be cool, to be a one of those normal pretty girls that were always flocked around him, even when he keeps looking at you.
And it’s not like he’s looking at everyone. It's you. Only you.
Chris is off somewhere in a tangle of mates and shots, and you’re left standing near the back booth, fiddling with your bracelet, pretending you're not checking to see if George is still across the room.
Spoiler: He is.
And now he's walking toward you, all slow and confident, like the kind of trouble that knows it’s going to be forgiven before it even begins.
“Hey,” he says, way too close to your ear - you blame the music, but his voice still sends a shiver down your spine and made your face burn, “You okay?”
You nod with a gulp,“Yeah. Just needed a breather.”
George leans against the wall beside you, his shoulder brushing yours, and it’s almost enough to short-circuit your entire nervous system. You swear the temperature in the club jumps ten degrees when he inches closer to you. Your sense overwhelmed by the smell of his cologne, or maybe it's just him.
“You're quiet tonight,” he says, head tilted like he was studying you.
You almost let yourself speak before thinking, almost letting a clever quip slip past your lips, to flirt back with him. To finally act like you’re not the quiet, overthinking little sister of his best friend.
But all that comes out is a laugh that dies halfway through, “Just tired.”
“You sure?” His eyes flicking to your lips just long enough for you to notice, "You seem off."
Your pulse spikes, and you felt your chest tighten for a moment as your breath shook involuntarily. He was far too close now, his finger barely ghost over your wrist like he’s testing the water - You didn’t pull away.
“You look good,” he says, his voice low, “You’ve almost got me nervous to move.”
That was enough for him to gain every ounce of your attention. Your eyes snap up to his, your heart thudding against your ribs.
“Why would you be nervous?” you whisper, more breath than voice.
George laughs softly, not pulling back, “Because you’ve been driving me mad all night.”
You blink, “Me?”
His fingers trace up your arm, slow and almost lazy, like he’s memorizing the shape of you, “Yeah, you. The way you look at me like I’m off limits. The way you keep pretending like I don’t consume your every thought.”
You swallow hard wanting to turn away from him but it was impossible. Your breath hitched in your throat as his hand settles on your waist, warm and solid. Every nerve of your body standing on edge.
“I’m not gonna do anything you don’t want me to,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your skin just under the hem of your top, “But if you do want something…”
He leaves it hanging, lets you fill in the rest.
You lean in, finally finding your voice - just barely, “Please kiss me.”
He does. God, he does. Like he’s been waiting as long as you have.
And for the first time all night, you stop trying to be perfect. You stop trying to be quiet. You just feel.
When his mouth meets yours it felt like a secret - soft at first, almost hesitant, like he’s checking to make sure this isn’t just some alcohol-fueled mistake. Like he's giving you a chance to pull away.
You don’t.
You kiss him back like you had been storing this up for years, because you have. All those almosts, all those what-ifs - they’re pouring out of you now, warm and desperate.
You fist your hands in the fabric of his shirt, and he exhales sharply against your lips, like the tension’s finally snappish for him too.
His hands are on your waist, fingers splayed like he’s trying to restrain himself, like he needs to feel that this is real. Your back was pressed into the wall of the booth, music vibrating through the floor, yet all you can hear is the sound of your own breathing and the faint sound George makes when your teeth catch on his lower lip.
“Fuck,” he mutters, pulling back just an inch, forehead resting against yours, “We probably shouldn’t be doing this here.”
“Then stop,” you say, breathless.
He huffs a laugh, “That’s not a real suggestion, is it?”
“Not in the slightest.”
George lips catch your again - rougher this time, less careful. One of his hands slides up your back, curling around the back of your neck like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go.
Your head spun in the best way. This feels like a free fall – terrifying but exciting. Like every breath you had held every time he walked into a room could finally be let out.
“You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he says against your mouth.
You laugh, the sound shaky, “Try me.”
“I didn’t think I could,” he admits, “Chris would kill me.”
You pause, blinking up at him, “You’re thinking about my brother right now?”
“Briefly. I’m not proud.”
You snort, and the tension breaks for a moment, leaving something lighter behind - giddy and dangerous. You’re still tangled together in a dark corner of a club, but it suddenly feels more intimate than any bedroom ever could.
George trails a finger down the side of your neck, voice softer now, “You always look at me like you’re trying not to. Like I’m gonna catch you.”
You shrug, cheeks burning. “And yet you did.”
His expression shifts into something deeper and it flickers in his eyes,. His thumb brushes your jaw, “So now what?”
“I don’t know.” You bite your lip, “We keep this quiet?”
“For now.”
“And maybe…” You lean in, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Maybe you kiss me again before I start overthinking everything and ruin it?”
He doesn’t hesitate.
His hands tighten around your hips, pulling you flush against him, and this time the kiss is all heat. No nerves. No hesitations. Just want.
You knew it was reckless. You knew it would. e complicated. You know you’re going to have to face your brother eventually, and that George probably won’t be able to sneak around forever.
But right now? Right now, in this dark corner with your heartbeat echoing in your throat and George’s hands on your body like you’re made of glass - It was worth it.
You can barely hear the heavy beat anymore. Everything else fading away - the flashing lights, the crowd, even the distant echo of Chris’s drunken laugh somewhere across the room. All you feel is George. His hands, his mouth, the way he’s pressing you back into the booth like he can’t get close enough.
And just when your lips trail down to his neck, just when his fingers tangle in the hem of your shirt, you hear it - “Oi, George!”
You both freeze.
Your felt your heart drop as George stiffens against you, letting out a quiet curse under his breath before pulling away just enough to peek over the booth's edge. You can feel your pulse pounding in your head.
“It's just Arthur,” he says, trying to play it cool - though his voice is lower, rougher now, “He hasn’t seen us.”
You don’t move, still pressed against the booth wall, trying to catch your breath and not look like you were about to let your brother’s best friend get to third base in public.
George leans in again, voice warm against your skin, “Don’t look so panicked. You’re not the one who has to explain to Chris why his little sister’s lipstick is smudged down my neck.”
Your hand flies to your mouth, “Shit, I-”
“I’m not complaining.” He grins, eyes dark and teasing, “You should see the look on your face.”
You shove his shoulder, and he catches your wrist, kissing the inside of it before reluctantly letting you go.
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summary: you’re chris’ younger sister who has a crush on his best friend. you’ve spent the past two years hiding your feelings from him - until you all end up in a club for your brothers birthday.
warning: mature content (18+ only)
masterlist | main masterlist
You had left the club earlier than everyone else. The feeling on George’s hands still linger on your skim, the taste of his lips on yours which sent your mind into a frenzy. You had to get put of the club or you felt like you were going to explode.
You were now sat tucked into the corner of the sofa in the boys flat, your hoodie pulled over your knees and makeup still a little smudged. The adrenaline of the night had mostly worn off, and been replaced by something quieter. You could still taste George on your lips, and everytime you thought back to that moment, his hands on you, your pulse stirred into a frenzy.
The front door clicked shut followed by Chris and Arthur drunken bicker down the hall before they vanished into their rooms.
Not even a few minutes went by before you heard the creak of the hallway floorboards. You didn’t even have to look up from your lap - you knew it was him. You could feel it before you had to see it.
George’s voice came out low, careful, like it was wrapped in velvet, “You still awake?”
You glanced over your shoulder letting your eyes study George. He was stood there barefoot, his hair messy from the night, and a hoodie lazily thrown over his shirt and his eyes locked on yours in the dim light of the living room lamp, and the air shifted.
You nodded, “Couldn’t sleep.”
George crossed the room without a second thought, collapsing into the sofa next to you. He didn’t say anything at first - just sitting there in silence, his knee bumping yours, his fingers drumming lightly on the cushion like he was trying to work something out in his head.
Then he turned, his gaze dropping to your lips like it was muscle memory, “I haven’t stopped thinking about earlier.”
Your breath catches, the blanket suddenly too warm, “Me neither.”
He leans in slowly, cautiously - like he was scared that you’d push him away. His fingers found your jaw, tilting your face toward him, and then his lips landed yours again - softer this time, less heat, more meaning.
The kiss deepened fast as his hand slid into your hair, the other pulling at the edge of the blanket that was wrapped around your waist. Your fingers are already curled into the front of his hoodie, like you knew this was coming the second he walked in.
He pulled back just barely, forehead resting against yours, “Come to my room.”
You knew it was not a question, it was a plea.
You nod, breathless, “Yeah.”
He stands, offering you a hand, and you take it without thinking. Every step down that hallway is loaded, your pulse pounding in your ears. The second George’s bedroom door clicks shut, something shifted. The air weighed on you both like a tonne of bricks, both of you filling with an overwhelming need.
You barely had time to breathe before he was on you again, his mouth crashes into yours, hot and desperate, his hands under your hoodie like he had been dying to be skin to skin since the club.
You clutch at the hem of his hoodie, slipping your hands under it, needing to feel him just a desperately.
He slipped the hoodie off of your body tossing it carelessly to the side not caring where it landed. His goes next along with his shirt, and your fingers are dragging over the hard lines of his stomach before you even realize what you’re doing. He hisses through his teeth, eyes burning.
His hands slid up your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts through the tank top you were wearing before moving up to your nipples. You gasp against his mouth, and he smiles - just a little - like he knew exactly what he was doing.
“You always so responsive?” he whispered, lips trailing down your jaw to your neck, “Or is it just for me?”
You tilted your head for him instinctively, breath shaking, “You’re cocky.”
He grinned, lips brushing the shell of your ear, “You like cocky.”
He stepped forward backing you towards the bed, his hands dragging over your body like he was memorizing it. When the backs of your knees hit the edge of the mattress, he just stands there staring at you for a moment making your cheeks burn.
He dipped his head to your neck again, kissing, sucking, dragging his teeth just enough to make your knees shake, “You’re already squirming,” he said softly, one hand sliding down to your hip, holding you still, “I haven’t even touched you yet.”
“Then do it.”
His breath hitched like he hadn’t been expecting you to push back but you felt his lips curve into smile against your skin, and then his hands are on your thighs, gripping tight.
“Take this off,” he says, tugging at the hem of your tank, “Slow.”
You nodded, peeling it off inch by inch, watching the way his eyes darken as more of your skin is revealed. It slipped from your fingers landing on his floor leaving you standing bare for him breathing hard.
He doesn’t move.
“Take those off too,” he says, nodding to your joggers.
Your eyebrow quirked up, “Just gonna sit there and watch?”
“For now.”
You rolled your eyes, but your hands moved to your waistband anyway, sliding them down - slow, teasing. You kick them off, standing in nothing but your underwear. He still hadn’t touched you.
“George.”
His name fell from your lips like a plea and he instantly stepped forward finally dragging his hands over your bare waist, pulling you against him. You could feel him hard against your stomach making heat pool low in your belly.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, dipping his head to kiss the swell of your breast.
A gasp falls from your lips as his mouth found your nipple, hot and wet and just a little too much. He sucks, then licks, then bites – it’s gentle but possessive.
Your hands fly to his hair, tugging, “Fuck,” you whispered.
“That’s it,” he muttered, trailing kisses to your other breast, giving it the same attention, “Let me hear you.”
He slid his palm between your thighs next, pressing his fingers against the damp heat of your underwear, not going under yet. Just rubbing, slow and firm, watching you come apart in his hands.
“George-”
“You’re soaked,” he teased, “That all for me?”
You nod, biting your lip, and he hums, satisfied with your answer and then without a warning, he drops to his knees.
You barely had time to react before his hands slid your underwear down and he lifted your thigh over his shoulder, burying his face between your legs like he’s starving for it.
Your head falls back with a moan.
He licked one long stripe up your center, groaning into you the vibration making a louder moan slip past your lips. Then his tongue starts working in slow, deliberate circles, building you up so gradually that it bordered on torture.
He slowly slipped two of his fingers into you, watching your reaction through his eyelashes. Your head fell back letting out a whimper as you gripped his hair, trying to grind down, but he gripped your hips tighter, holding you still.
“Stay still,” he muttered, voice vibrating against you.
His lips circled around your clit sucking softly making you cry out, legs shaking, hips twitching but he wouldn’t let up. His fingers pounding into you faster with every sound that left your lips. With every movement he made he was dragging you higher, higher, until your whole body’s trembling.
“You gonna come for me?” he asked, eyes flicking up, mouth glistening.
You nodded frantically, and he smirked, locking his lips around you again.
It doesn’t take long. You break with a cry, thighs clamping around his head, riding the wave with your fingers twisted in his hair and his name spilling from your lips.
He kisses the inside of your thigh once - almost sweet - before standing again, licking his fingers like he’s savouring you.
Then without a word he lifted you onto the bed.
You reached down hands fiddling with the draw string of his jogger but he stopped you, holding both your wrists in his hand, “Lie down. I’m not done with you yet.”
You nodded laying back as he stood at the edge of the bed removing his joggers and boxers watching you carefully as your head buried into his pillows the smell of his aftershave overpowering your senses.
He crawled over you, kissing you hard, letting you taste yourself on his tongue making you moan into him. His hands sliding down, parting your thighs again, lining himself up and just before he pushes in, he stops and you let out a whine.
“Beg.”
Your breath catches in your throat and you blinked up at him in surprise, “What?”
“Tell me you need it. That you want me to ruin you.”
Your stomach flipped and before your mind could catch up the words tumble from your lips, “Please, George. Please, touch me.”
He groans, eyes fluttering shut like he’s barely hanging on.
And then he thrusts into you hard, deep, perfect.
A groan ripples low in his throat as he buries himself into you, inch by inch, your walls stretching around him so perfectly you almost forget how to breathe. It’s too much and not enough all at once - your back arching, nails digging into his shoulders as you gasp out his name.
“Fuck, you feel-” he breaks off, breath ragged, hips stilling as he bottoms out, forehead pressing against yours, “So tight.”
Every nerve of your bodies burned as if its about to burst into flames. Your whole body clenched around him needing to be close to him, your thighs wrapped around his waist and arms holding onto his biceps feeling them flex as he starts to move into you.
It started as slow, deep, dragging thrusts that make your toes curl and your mouth fall open. He watches every flicker of your expression, like he needed to know what makes you fall apart.
Your hands slide down his back, desperate for something to hold on to, something to ground yourself with as his hips rock into you again and again. He pulls almost all the way out, then slams back in – you let out cry trying to muffle it with his arm but it was no use.
“You like that?” he growls, thrusting harder, “Like it when I fuck you like this?”
You nod frantically, but it’s not enough. He grabs your chin, forces your eyes to meet his.
“Words, baby.”
“Yes,” you gasp, “God, yes. Please, don’t stop-”
He kisses you again in a frantic manor, his teeth catching your lower lip as he groans into your mouth barely holding on.
“You’re taking me so fucking well,” he pants against your skin, lips trailing along your jaw to your throat, “Been dreaming about this. Thinking about how good you’d feel wrapped around me, moaning my name like you’re doing right now.”
You whimper as he thrusts harder, faster - like something’s snapped inside him.
He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head, leaning over you, driving himself deeper into you now. You could feel everything - the weight of him, the way he stretches you, the way your body clenches around him like it never wants to let go.
“You’re gonna come again for me?” he says, voice rough and low in your ear.
“I – God – I don’t think I can.”
“Be a good girl for me, yeah?”
His free hand snakes down between your bodies, thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight, relentless, fast circles, “Come for me,” he growled.
It crashes over you like a wave - hot, overwhelming, like everything inside you snapped loose as you scream his name muffled by his hand, your entire body trembling under him. You’re clenching so hard around him that he nearly loses it right there, cursing under his breath.
“Fuck, y/n, fuck-”
He pulls out for half a second, flips you over like you weigh nothing, and slams back in from behind. One hand fists in your hair, the other gripping your hip so tightly you know it’ll leave bruises.
You cry out again, face pressed into the mattress, overwhelmed but aching for more. He thrusts harder now, rougher, losing control.
“You gonna let me fill you up?” he groans, “Gonna let me come inside you, fuck you full?”
“Yes, fuck, yes- please, please-”
Your voice breaking on the last word and that’s enough for him.
He grunted out your name like a prayer and slamming into you one last time, coming hard, hips jerking against you as he spilled inside you, his breath hot and frantic against your shoulder.
For a long moment, everything is still. The only sound is your breathing, his ragged and shuddering, and yours barely holding steady.
He collapsed beside you, pulling you into him slinging one arm over your waist as if to stop you from leaving, “holy fuck,” he mutters into your neck, still breathless, “I’m not letting you go after that.”
You smile, dazed letting you fingers brush lazily down his chest, “Didn’t want you to.”
He kissed your shoulder, then your jaw, then your lips - slower now. Softer.
“You’re staying tonight,” he muttered, “Non-negotiable.”
You don’t argue, you just tucked yourself against him, skin still buzzing, your body aching in the best way.
The next morning you woke up to warmth. George still wrapped around you - one arm flung over your waist, bare chest pressed against your back, his breath soft and steady against your neck.
His duvet now half-kicked down, your legs tangled under the covers, skin sticking slightly from sweat and the heat of him. Your body ached everywhere in the best way, muscles sore and heavy with satisfaction, a slow smile tugging at your lips.
And then it hits you.
You’re still in George’s room. In George’s bed. And it is most definitely morning.
The soft yellow light peeking through the curtains telling you the sun is up, which probably means so are Chris and Arthur. Your heart pounded against your ribs, adrenaline kicking in with no warning.
Shit.
You shifted carefully, painfully aware of every creak of the bed. George murmuring something half-asleep, fingers twitching against your hip, but he didn’t stir properly. You twist just enough to look at him.
God, he’s beautiful in the morning. His curls are a mess, lips parted, face slack with sleep. You didn’t want to leave, you hated that this has to be a thing.
But your brother is right down the hall.
You slipped out from the duvet like you were defusing a bomb, every motion slow and precise. The floor cold against your bare feet as you gather your clothes, praying they’re all here - your hoodie flung over his computer chair, your underwear somehow had ended up on the bedside table, and your jogger curled in the corner like they were ashamed of last night.
Once dressed, you crept toward the door, opening it with painstaking care.
The hallway was quiet. You held your breath, inching down toward the living room, hoping no one’s there - just a few more seconds and you’re off the hook.
“Morning.”
You jump out of your skin.
Arthur was sat on the sofa, bleary-eyed with a cup of tea in one hand and a blanket draped over his lap. He blinked at you like he’s not sure you’re real.
“Oh my God,” you whispered, clutching the wall like it might help you disappear, “You’re up.”
Arthur sips his tea, “Clearly, so are you.”
Your mouth opened before snapping closed again as your brain scrambled for something normal to say.
“I- I couldn’t sleep. The sofa was uncomfy.”
He snorted, very clearly not believing a word, “Right. And I assume George’s bed was more your style?”
Your heart dropped.
Arthur raises an eyebrow, “Look, I’m not gonna tell Chris. But you might wanna sort out your neck before he sees you.”
You fly to the mirror in the livingroom, fingers instantly darting up to your throat. Hickeys. So many fucking hickeys.
You groan, tugging your collar higher, cheeks blazing.
Arthur just scrolled through his phone, barely hiding his grin, “You owe me.”
“Forever,” you muttered.
You took your place on the sofa next to him lifting the blanket over you and you hear George’s bedroom door creak open down the hall. You don’t turn. You can’t turn.
You just hear his low voice, still rough from sleep.
“Morning.”
Arthur hums into his tea, “Yeah, we’ve covered that.”
You can feel George’s eyes on you - burning, amused, and far too smug.
summary: eddie and chris come up with a plan to finally get you and buck together
main masterlist | masterlist
The plan started the same way as most of Diaz boys' schemes did. Quietly, with a subtle nudge from Eddie and his enthusiastic co-conspirator, Christopher, tagging along for the plan. Ever since you had moved to California to live with Eddie to help out with Chris, your little trio had fallen back into their familiar rhythm once again. You cooked dinner when your brother was working late shifts, packed lunches, drove Chris to his appointments, and never complained about any of it. You were just happy to be back with your boys.
For you, being with your brother and nephew was home. The chaos that never left, the late-night cartoons with Chris, the soft laughter that bounced off the walls no matter what. The only thing that made you pause, that made your heart ache in that specific unamable way was Evan Buckley.
Buck, with his boyish smile and his boisterous ways. Buck, who had taken to Christopher like a duck to water, and who always had a special way of making you feel like the only person in the room. You brushed it off telling yourself that it was just Buck being Buck, a shameless flirt. Eddie saw through it though, saw the glances when you both thought nobody was paying attention, saw the lingering touches, and apparently so did Chris.
Which was exactly the reason why Eddie had casually called Buck one Saturday afternoon with a tone that screamed nothing is going on, definitely no secret plans here.
“You need me to watch Chris?” Buck blinked, pressing the phone closer to his ear, “Isn’t your sister there?”
“She’s busy,” Eddie replied smoothly, “And Carla had something come up.”
There was a suspicious beat of silence, “Then you could’ve called Carla's backup nurse.”
“I could’ve,” Eddie agreed, far too casually, “But I trust you, Buck. You’re good with him.”
Buck sounded hesitant, “You sure? I mean, y/n’s usually-”
“I’m sure,” Eddie cut in quickly, “Can you be here in ten?”
Buck looked around his empty apartment, “Yeah. I’m on my way.”
You had just finished rinsing the conditioner from the ends of your hair, the steam from the water clinging to the mirror in cloudy swirls, when you heard the sound of the front door clicking open. You frowned. The boys wouldn’t be back yet, you had been sent a photo of Chris munching on popcorn not even an hour ago, and Carla wasn’t due till the morning.
You wrapped a thick towel around your frame, cautiously padding down the hallway with a brush in your hand – not that that would do much to an intruder. As you rounded the corner, you collided into the hard chest of a shocked, wide-eyed Buck.
“Jesus!” You yelped, the towel nearly slipping from your fingers as you jumped back, eyes equally as wide.
“Holy! Sorry! I’m so sorry!” Buck spun around so fast he almost tripped over his own feet, shielding his eyes with one hand, “I didn’t, Eddie said, I thought no one was, oh my God.”
You clutched the towel tighter to your body, blinking at the back of his head, “What are you doing here?”
His eyes remained locked firmly on the wall, “Eddie called. Said he needed someone to watch Chris. Told me you weren’t around.”
Your eyebrows scrunched as you narrowed your eyes, your brain working through the pieces, “They’re not even here. Chris and Eddie went to the movies with Carla. They sent me a photo.”
A beat of silence passed.
“Oh my God,” you muttered, letting out a laugh. The realisation of what was happening dawning over the both of you.
“We’ve been set up,” Buck said, voice flat with disbelief.
“I can’t believe they did this,” you muttered, “Actually yes, I can. This is exactly the kind of thing they would do.”
From his position facing the kitchen wall, Buck let out a nervous laugh jabbing his thumb towards the door, “Should I go?”
You rolled you eyes and spinning on your heel back toward the bathroom, “No. Don’t go. Just stay there, I’m not wearing pants.”
“Copy that. Staying put.”
Ten minutes later, you emerged from the bathroom fully dressed in cozy joggers and a worn tank top with your towel dried stuck between your shoulder blades. Buck was still stood awkwardly near the kitchen, hands in his hoodie pockets, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to sit down.
Your expression softened, “I ordered pizza just before I showered. It should be here soon. And there’s beer in the fridge if you want one.”
Buck blinked, “Wait, you still want me to stay?”
“I mean…” you shrugged, feigning casual, “I was planning on a chill night but now that you’re here might as well not waste the pizza.”
He smiled. That soft, crinkly-eyed smile that always made your knees buckle a little, “Twist my arm, why don’t you.”
An hour later, the living room was littered with empty plates and two half-finished beers. The TV playing an old movie neither of you were really watching. It had become background noise to your conversation.
Buck told stories from past firehouse shifts that had you doubled over gripping his arm to steady herself. You shared stories about growing up in Texas with Eddie, including a particularly embarrassing anecdote that involved a slip-and-slide, a beehive, and a trip to the ER that made Buck nearly choke on his beer.
As the evening wore on, the movement in the apartment slowed as yawns snuck their way in between sentences. The air grew warmer, softer, and thicker with the kind of quiet that came not from silence but from comfort.
You had found yourself tucked into Buck’s side with your legs curled beneath you on the couch. You weren’t sure when you had shifted positions, but you knew that you felt safe there.
“You know,” Buck murmured as you laid your head on his chest listening to the soft beats of his heart, “I think they knew exactly what they were doing.”
You chuckled sleepily, “Yeah. They played us.”
He shifted slightly, tightening his arm around your waist, “I’m not mad about it.”
And neither were you.
By the time Eddie and Chris got it back to the house, you were both fast asleep on the couch. Eddie opened the apartment door, carrying a sleeping Christopher inside with his head laying on his father's shoulder. Eddie quietly made his way towards the living room hearing the faint sounds of the TV playing and he assumed you’d be sat awake watching whatever show you were currently obsessed with.
But instead, he froze. There, tangled together on the couch, laid you and Buck. You were sprawled across him, cheek pressed against his chest, one of your arms curled under his hoodie. Buck’s arms were firmly around your waist, holding you impossibly close even in sleep. His chin rested lightly against the top of your head.
Eddie stood still for a moment, lips quirking.
Christopher lifted his head, rubbing his eyes sleepily under his glasses.
“Did it work?” he whispered.
Eddie smiled, carrying him to bed.
“Yeah, buddy,” he whispered back, “It worked.”
The morning sun filtered in through the thin curtains of the living room, casting soft, long shadows across the walls. The house was still, wrapped in the sleepy hush of early morning. The only sounds that were heard was the quiet hum of the fridge and the rhythmic breathing of two people still tangled up in last night’s unintended nap.
You stirred first. Your head tucked against a warm chest; your arm looped lazily around a waist. The steady rise and fall of someone else’s breathing lulling you for a few moments longer until… Wait.
Your eyes blinked open. You're lying on Buck.
Your body was still sprawled over his, one leg tangled between his. His arms remained wrapped tightly around her middle like a human seatbelt, his grip strong even in sleep. His face, relaxed and soft in the golden light, was nestled against her hair.
“Oh my God,” you whispered under your breath making Buck stirred beneath you.
His arms tightened instinctively for a second before he blinked awake, his gaze hazy with sleep and confusion, “Mmh, y/n?”
You froze. He blinked again. And then it hit him. His eyes widened.
“Oh. oh my God.” His voice shot up an octave as he pulled back slightly but didn’t fully let go, “I didn’t, I mean, I must’ve. Did we fall asleep?”
“We definitely fell asleep,” you nodded, voice barely above a whisper.
They both looked down at their position. You laying half on top of him, his large hands splayed across the small of you back, their legs intertwined. The awkwardness settling in quickly.
“I should probably get up,” you said, but didn’t make any move to actually do so.
“Right, yeah,” Buck said, though he didn’t move either.
Another beat passed and then Buck let out a small chuckle.
You quirked an eyebrow, “What?”
He shook his head with a crooked smile, “Nothing. Just, I’ve imagined waking up with you a few times, but this isn’t quite how it went in my head.”
Your breath caught in your throat, eyes locking onto his.
He flushed instantly, “Crap. That was, sorry, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
You tried to bite back the smile on your lips, but failed, “You’ve imagined waking up with me?”
“Maybe. A few times.”
Something soft unfurled in your chest. You ducked your head shyly, cheeks warm “Well,” you murmured, “aside from the pizza breath and waking up fully clothed, I guess it could’ve been worse.”
Buck laughed again, “Yeah. Not the most romantic first sleepover.”
You sat up finally, stretching out your arms, “Still kind of perfect, though.”
He watched you, eyes flickered over your warm skin, lingering on the sleepy warmth in your smile, before darting to your exposed midriff, admiring the way the early morning light kissed your skin. His heart thudded in a way that had nothing to do with awkwardness anymore.
Just as he opened his mouth to say something when the front door creaked open, “Well, well, well,” came Eddie’s amused voice, “Look who decided to turn the couch into a bed.”
Buck nearly flung himself off the couch as you scrambled upright, flattening down your hair as if that would help the situation.
Christopher padded in right behind Eddie, looking far too smug for a ten-year-old, “You’re still cuddling?” he asked, grinning wide.
“We weren’t! We just!” Buck sputtered for an excuse, running a hand through his messy hair.
You rolled your eyes shoving his arm playfully, “We fell asleep, that’s it.”
Eddie raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, “Right. Totally innocent. Just two friends, tangled together, dead asleep on the couch. Happens all the time.”
“All the time,” Christopher echoed with a giggle.
Buck buried his face in his hands, “I walked into a trap.”
“More like snuggled into it,” Eddie quipped, heading toward the kitchen holding up the two grocery bags in his hands, “You want eggs, or should I leave you two to continue your spooning?”
You let out a groan as you flopped back on the couch, “I’m never living this down, am I?”
“Absolutely not,” Eddie called.
Buck glanced down at you, a teasing smile tugging at his lips, “Hey, if it helps, I’m not complaining.”
You lifted your head to look at him, one brow raised in questioning.
“About last night,” he added, voice more serious now, “About this. I know it was unplanned, but I really liked being here. With you.”
Your teasing expression softened, “I liked it too,” you admitted quietly.
And even with Eddie purposefully banging pans in the kitchen and Christopher humming a love song mockingly under his breath, Buck leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, a moment that was soft and full of promise.
summary: being wedged between chris and will in the backseat of a car leads to something quite unexpected
warnings: mature content (18+ only)
main masterlist
content warnings: threesome, titty sucking, public sex (kinda idk), fingering - if im missing any let me know <33
The car hummed steadily along the motorway, the soft rumble of tires on tarmac was drowned out by the boys relentless back-and-forth from the front and the back of the car. You sat tucked in the back, your camera resting on your lap, panning lazily between the boys as they bickered over Chris not being allowed to drive for more than two hours and Will snd Stephen getting drunk so they wouldn’t be able to drive.
Next to you, Will shifted slightly, one arm slung across the back of the seat, casual as ever. He looked unfairly good in the warm glow of the bright sun, his red football shirt slouched over his shoulders, his mullet curling perfectly at the back of his neck. His knee was pressed lightly against yours with a familiar weight that never bothered you.
You tried to keep your focus on the camera. Tried.
“Mate, you’ve literally been driving for ten years, course you can drive a fucking manual.” Chris scoffed.
Stephen rolled his eyes dramatically, “Ten years is along time, Chris.”
“And he’s pissed, so he legally can’t be behind the wheel,” Will teased from beside you, voice thick with that trademark Geordie lilt – which always became extra strong after a drink – and a shiver ran down your spine.
You turned the camera to him just in time to catch his grin making your stomach flip.
“So true, William,” Stephen laughed, tossing a crisp packet at the backseat. It landed on the carpeted floor between the two of you, and Will snorted, kicking it away with the toe of his trainer.
You leaned forward slightly, capturing the chaos, letting your laughter spill into the background of the recording. You hadn’t noticed Will’s hand had crept closer to your thigh until you shifted back again and felt the faintest brush of his pinkie against your skin.
You stiffened just slightly, eyes flicking to him. But he was still watching the front, still laughing, still being Will, acting as if he hadn’t just made the breath knock out of your chest.
Maybe it was an accident.
You turned your attention back to the camera, focusing on Chris’ exasperated face as Stephen downed another can of blue AU vodka. Then there it was. That hand again. Firmer now.
You gasped softly, head snapping to the side.
Will still wasn’t looking at you. His lips twitched into a knowing smirk, but his eyes remained forward. Bastard.
You swallowed hard and nudged his hand away, trying to keep your expression neutral, even as your skin prickled where his rings had brushed you. He just chuckled under his breath, shameless, fingers dropping back to the seat just barely grazing your skin.
Goosebumps spread across your thighs.
You hated how much you liked it. How much you wished he’d carry on with the teasing. How he was shamelessly doing it in front of his friends, in front of the cameras.
“We’re gonna have to stop somewhere,” Stephen announced, wriggling dramatically in his seat, “I have to piss so bad.”
The boys burst into laughter, and Chris nodded, “Find the next services then.”
You laughed too, but it came out a little breathless. You reached to turn the camera off and placed it on the seat beside you, ignoring the burning heat that was bubbling low in your stomach.
As the car rolled smoothly down the motorway again, your body stilled. Will’s hand was back giving a firm squeeze.
And this time, you didn’t move.
You tilted your head slowly, lashes brushing your cheeks as you glanced up at him. Will met your gaze, a smirk firmly in place, and the glint in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.
This wasn’t a game anymore.
You exhaled softly, thighs tensing under his touch as his fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shorts. Your breath caught in the back of your throat, heat pooling between your thighs. You bit down on your lip, cheeks burning, but your eyes didn’t waver. They locked with Chris’ in the rearview mirror; his amused smirk all too evident.
Then Will’s fingers pressed firmly over your clothed clit, and a sharp jolt of pleasure shot through you. You gasped, instinctively clamping your legs shut, shaking your head, your mouth parting to say something, but Chris beat you to it.
“Alright, we’re here. Off you go, Stephen.”
“Yes, Dad.” Stephen laughed, unbothered as ever, jumping out and strolling off toward the services.
Chris turned in his seat to face you and Will in the back, “You two gonna finish your little show or what?”
“We’ve not even started it yet,” Will said casually.
“What if people see?” you asked, glancing toward the windows, heart hammering against your ribcage.
“Nobody’s gonna see, pet,” Will murmured, brushing your hair back from your face with one hand. The other slipped from your thigh, calmly unbuckling both your seatbelts, “C’mere.”
You shifted on the bench seat, nerves fluttering in your stomach. Gnawing your cheek, you leaned into Will’s side, his arm curling around your shoulder. His hand slid down, slipping into the waistband of your shorts and gliding over the damp patch on your underwear.
“Fucking hell, darlin’. This wet for me already?”
You hummed softly, letting your head fall to his shoulder, Will’s nimble fingers teasing slow, lazy circles over your clit through the thin fabric.
“Look at Chris f’me.”
You did as you were told, the vibrations echoing from Will’s chest as he chuckled at your obediance. Your gaze dropped to the front of the car. Chris was leaning back against the dashboard, his hand buried in his shorts, dark eyes locked on you as he watched every twitch and whimper as Will’s hands moved across your body.
Will cupped your tits through your shirt, squeezing, teasing, drawing a needy whine from you just as his fingers finally slipped beneath your knickers, gathering the slick from your folds.
“Shit, sweetheart. Look at you, so needy for Will,” Chris groaned.
You nodded, lips parted, breath stuttering as your hips rocked forward into Will’s hand. Your shaky fingers curled around Will’s wrist, eyes wide and pleading as you looked up at him with a pout. He gave you what you wanted, sliding a finger into your tight cunt, the intrusion slow and deliberate. You moaned at the stretch, turning your gaze back to Chris, wishing, aching, for his hands to be on you too.
Your eyes dropped lower, catching sight of his hand still stroking his cock beneath his shorts, “Chris,” you whimpered, reaching out toward him. The sheer desperation in your voice made him groan.
“You want Chrissy too?” Will chuckled, slipping in a second finger, “Needy girl.”
You whimpered again, squeezing your eyes shut, your bottom lip trembling as your nails dug into the leather of the centre console, “yeah…”
Will jerked his chin toward Chris, nodding. Without hesitation, Chris climbed into the back, wedging himself between your legs. The space was tight, but you barely noticed. All of your focus was on the feeling of Chris’ mouth wrapping around your nipple as he pushed your bunched-up top higher.
A string of incoherent moans and curses left your lips, pleasure biting under your skin. One hand buried in Chris’ hair, the other gripped Will’s wrist tight as he continued to pump his fingers inside you.
“More,” you gasped, eyes fluttering.
Will raised an eyebrow, letting out a laugh, “You sure you can handle more, princess?”
“M’sure please, Will?” you begged, blinking up at him through glassy, fucked-out eyes.
He melted, instantly giving in.
With his free hand, Will tapped Chris, who immediately brought his fingers to your clit, tracing sharp, precise circles. At the same time, Will slid in a third finger, your walls stretching around him.
“Fuck,” one of them muttered, but your mind was too fogged to know who.
Your throat burned from the moans tearing out of you. The sensations of Chris sucking at your tits, and Will’s fingers pounding into your cunt had your body coiling tight, your orgasm barrelling toward you fast.
The moment Chris’ teeth scraped lightly over your nipple, you broke.
Your body convulsed between them, hips jerking up into their hands as you rode your high. Will didn’t let up, fucking you through the aftershocks, his fingers working your fluttering cunt until your body finally gave in, slumping against him.
Your breath came in ragged gasps. A whimper escaped your throat at the loss as both of them pulled away. Will smirked, raising his glistening fingers to your lips, tapping lightly. You parted them, obedient as ever, sucking them clean, eyes locked on his the entire time.
Chris groaned at the sight, “Jesus Christ.”
With a sigh, he climbed back into the driver’s seat, giving you space to compose yourself before Stephen returned. You leaned over quickly, pecking his lips, making him smile despite himself.
“Right then.” Will huffed, crossing his arms with mock offence, “I see how it is.”
You laughed breathlessly, sliding back beside him and cupping his jaw, bringing his mouth to yours, “Happy now?” you teased voice rasped, pulling away only to find that smug smile etched across his face.
“Very. Thank you very much.”
The passenger door yanked open just as you slid away from Will and buckled your seatbelt again, trying to hide the satisfied smile on your face.
“That queue was ridiculous,” Stephen groaned. “But I got us more wine, William.”
“Nice one, mate.” Will grinned, grabbing the bottle from him and then he froze. His eyes snapped to the dashboard camera, blinking red. His face paled.
“Did you leave the cameras on, Chris?” he asked, choking on a cough, trying to play it cool.
Your head whipped around, eyes going wide. You leaned forward, peering past Stephen’s seat. Sure enough, the light was still blinking.
Chris just shrugged, a wicked smirk playing on his lips, “Oops. Must’ve forgot.”
He paused, then added with a wink, “Don’t worry though, I’ll be editing that footage.”
