#george dunkirk

Summary: George has been helping Peter and Mr. Dawson maintain Moonstone, their trusty boat. Before making the biggest decision of his life, he had some time to think about what it truly means to love and to be loved.

Warnings: Mentions of death due to character’s fate on the story, fluff moments of love, inspiration taken from the song truly, madly, deeply covered by Yoke Lore.

Word count: 2.4K

A/N: Hello everyone! So, as you can see per my username, I’m a big Barry Keoghan fan and one of my favorite characters of his is George from Dunkirk (2017). I’ve searched for a while and couldn’t really find that many writings of this boy, so I wrote one for myself and decided to share it here because I think it turned out sweet and comforting. That’s it! I hope at least one of you likes it!

George saw you coming back from school, gently pedaling on your pastel blue bike. The breeze was running through your hair, the sun lightly making your face blush from the heat. Sometimes he thought you looked like his favorite song — the personification of what peacefulness felt like.

A sheen of red burned his cheeks when he realized you saw him peeping out of the window. You kindly wave at him, a burst of small laughter escaping your lips. He opens the front door to greet you, but not before adjusting his vest and white shirt collar. He was on his way to meet you, after all. He had to look good.

“Hi Georgie,” you say, parking your bike on the spot right next to your house’s fence. “Didn’t show up to class today.” Again.

“You know, didn’t feel like it.” He chuckles, eyes squinting a bit to avoid the sun. “My dad says that I never do anything in my life, so I thought I’d help Mr. Dawson and Peter with their boat. Been coming back and forth from there now.”

“That’s quite nice. I would probably rather join you than go to school myself.” You see the boy blush with an awkward grin on his face. He was loving those little interactions you would both share on afternoons, and he also couldn’t help but cherish the fact that you noticed every time he didn’t show up in school. “I can pass you the homework afterward if you’re still up for that.”

“Nah, that’s okay. It’s not like I’m going to do it anyway.” But as soon as he realizes what it meant to have you passing him homework, he starts fidgeting with his fingers. He wants to spend time with you, whether it was doing homework or helping your fix the peddles of your bicycle, he wanted to be on your side. “But erm… I think it would be nice. Maybe we can go to the docks? I know you like to study by the sea.”

Well, you didn’t know he knew that. He smiled at you, softly, as you nodded in response. “I would love to, Georgie.” Your smile seemed to flourish the butterflies on his stomach. “Let me just freshen up a bit, and I’ll meet you back here.”

Sometimes Peter and he would be fixing something on the boat or helping with the cracks opening on the dock. The sea smell cuddled him up, he felt relaxed and at ease when suddenly Peter would gaze at you, sitting on the edge of the street, legs going back and forth, and he would pat George on the back. It’s your girl, he used to say. With the sun going down, just a flicker of orange light delicately patting your face, he admired from afar. Always with a heavy book on hand and pen, writing or doodling. He loved that view.

And ever since he got the courage to talk to you, he didn’t mention it once, but now it seemed the right time to. There you were, smiling at him with tenderness, little wrinkles forming on the corners of your eyes like you would do when genuinely having a good time. He didn’t even know a smile could bring so much warmth to his heart.

That sounded more and more like a date and he wanted you to think that too.

****

Just a couple of minutes passed, and while you were getting ready, you felt the sudden urge to get him something. Maybe something sweet, or perhaps a basket of little muffins, you thought. But you didn’t have that much time to buy those — you’d have to go to the bakery on the corner, and since it was afternoon already, the treats wouldn’t be fresh out of the oven. You paced a little bit by yourself in your room, curiously watching the front yard of the house behind the vanilla-colored curtains, to see if he was already expecting you there. Then you saw little flowers blooming right next to the fence, a couple of burning-red roses, which you thought were perfect for the occasion.

The odds were that he would never understand right away, because why would he? But your mom always said that the red roses symbolize romance, love, and passion, everything you desperately wanted George to feel from you. The truth is, when he did go to school, you always paid close attention to him. He was either drawing on his notebook or snoozing in between classes, but you also caught a glimpse now and then of his kindness towards his classmates, the professors, and the lunch lady.

It was the little things that made you flustered in his presence. The small pieces of generosity he chose to give away. The gentle smile, the need to be that person. And every time you entered a room, you would scan around quickly, searching for him and his eyes.

On the house next door, George was rehearsing. After those months when all he could do was give you little compliments in class, or help you when your bike got a little rusty from time to time, he was finally able to spend more time with you and get to know you. He thought about asking you on a date, officially. He did even save up some money from his part-time jobs to afford a decent café or something like that. But well, maybe today was the day he could approach you and tell you how he felt. How his heart almost gives up when he sees you, how his mouth dries out, and although you provoked those types of feelings, he would also feel blissful. Optimistic. Like spending a whole day on the beach, bathing in sunlight, having ice cream and walking on the fluffy sand.

****

With the flowers wrapped with silk paper, you stood sitting on the wood bench in front of your house. Your feet were swinging in the air, not touching the floor.

“Ready to go?” His slightly raspy voice caught your attention — he had a cheeky smile on his face. “Who are those for?” George asked innocently.

“Ah, these are for you!” You answered, promptly standing up, dusting off imaginary dirt on the hem of your dress. “I just… wanted to give you something. And, boys never get flowers, but they should.” You stuttered behind your smile.

Why didn’t he think of giving YOU flowers? His reaction was almost immediate, gently taking the few roses you’ve perfectly arranged.

“That’s really sweet, I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything, I -” Before he continued, your hand reached for his other one, resting by his side. Your fingers touched before completing the embrace between them. The words didn’t come through as he blushed, but he squeezed your hand, comforting himself in the process. “I’ve never gotten flowers before.”

You just nodded with a mellow smile completing your face. His hand felt perfect on yours, the slight grip making your heart pound. If only he could feel what you were feeling.

But he was feeling it. If there were any doubts in his head that you felt the same way, they were long gone. Your hands together were the most perfect assurance he could think of.

The walk until the dock was filled with laughter, little talks, gentle strokes from his fingers on yours, and mostly, the sentiment of being at home. In safe heaven where you could say anything and be anything. He definitely felt more and more comfortable speaking, as you would hope to.

As you finally reached the beach, you sat down on the little wood ramp that guided people to the sand. It was comfortable enough for both of you to share the spot for yourselves.

“I wanted to ask you something.” He said after a moment of silence. You were taking in the breeze coming from the ocean ahead of you, eyes shut, breathing at a calming pace. He didn’t want to disturb your peace, but at the same time, he wanted to do this right. “Love, I’m bad with words, hopefully, you’re good at reading eyes?”

As he said it, you turned your gaze to him. His deep blue eyes seemed to be humming affection towards you, you felt it shifting between your eyes and your lips. He was so close, you could almost taste his scent. It’s like you could lose track of time just by being there with him.

“Yes?” You couldn’t help but mimic his gaze.

“I’ve always felt a little out of place. I didn’t have much interest in my life, never really made my father proud of me, I guess.” His laughter sounded more like a whisper. “But I always wanted to make something out of it.”

“Maybe appear on the local newspaper and such.” You said observingly with a weak smile. You remember he said that on the way over here.

“Yeah, maybe.” He reached for one lock of hair falling out of place, keeping it behind your ear. “Do something meaningful, have a family.” As he said the last part, you could swear you felt his demeanor shift from an already kind to a more loving one.

“I would like that too.” You said, interlocking your hand on his. “But sometimes we are dreaming too much when we should be living in the moment. I would love to have my fantasies come true, but I can’t count on it anytime soon.”

“I’ll be your fantasy.” His groggy voice was getting a hold of him. He didn’t know if it was the beach, being there with you, having received flowers, but he felt enough courage to say whatever his heart wanted him to. “I’ll be your dream, I’ll be your wish and be anything that you need.”

He said he wasn’t good with words. Liar.

His promises didn’t seem empty, though. He seemed genuine, almost pleading to be heard. To be loved, to be cared for.

It sounded like a confession with a twist as if you were exchanging vows in the presence of the highest powers. You hoped for love, and you could never think that love was shaped like this. A boy with bright eyes, a gentle smile, and a warm heart. And yet, there he was, the embodiment of love. And he felt the same way about you.

Your pretty little vows were sealed with a kiss. A deep and passionate one, one that lingered for less time than you wished for. If you could, you would never leave his embrace and your head would forever be leaning on his chest. It fit so perfectly, you wouldn’t have even dreamed of it.

He couldn’t bring himself to let you go, his forehead touching yours, happiness radiating from his whole body. You were quite amused how his posture changed from one moment to the other — he was so much more relaxed right now.

“Do you want to go on a date with me? Officially?" He took your hand and placed a kiss, then lifted his eyes to look at you.

“Of course,” you laughed. “I thought it was pretty clear that I want to go on this adventure with you.”

“What adventure, love?” His head tumbled to the side.

“Life, Georgie. Life!” Your voice was so clearly excited. Your arms opened up, wiggling to the sides, reaching for a hug.

“If this is life, then I want to live like this forever,” he laughed, imitating your gestures, letting your face lean into his neck. “Until the skies fall down over me.”

“Such a lovable dramatic person, aren’t you? Didn’t know this side of yours.”

“It’s ‘cause you bring the most sensible side of me.” He responded, looking down at you. Arms still wrapping you up. “My pretty girl.”

****

He left you on the front of the gate of your house, even though he would have to circle back to the dock to meet Moonstone, Mr. Dawson, and Peter, for the last tasks of maintenance of the boat. He didn’t want you to go home by yourself, so he escorted you back.

“There you go,” he said, placing a smooch on your cheek. “See you later tonight?”

“Tonight, it’s a date.” You cupped his face, slowly stroking his chin, bringing him closer for a kiss.

The red roses were left with you as well as he asked if you could put them on a vase. You told him they would die eventually but he didn’t care — as long as they were alive, he wanted to keep it.

The hours without him only reminded you of how precious the times with him were. Gosh, you were only seventeen, you were allowed to miss him and long for him. Your lives together had only started.

****

The next day, another no-show. He didn’t come home last night, he wasn’t anywhere to be found by you. A knock on your door made your heart beat faster than a bullet leaving a gun, and when you heard what the person standing in front of you told you, it was like an actual bullet had breached through your chest.

“He died on the boat,” Mr. Dawson said. “He fell, knocked his head down on the floor and that was it.” The bag under his eyes showed signs of sadness and exhaustion.

“How did you know,” you were swallowing tears forming in your eyes. “How did you know that I was expecting him?”

“He said it,” Peter said as he stood behind his dad. His voice was low, he had been crying. “He said that he finally understood love… and he said your name.”

“You were important to him, please know that. Don’t forget him.”

Peter’s words echoed in your head when you saw Georgie again.

He was there. Well, his photo was. Printed in the newspaper with his school uniform and a sweet smile.

“Local Boy,

George Mills,

Just 17,

Hero at Dunkirk”.

“I won’t ever forget.” You thought to yourself.

Now and then you would go back to the dock. You’ve cut that photo of him from the newspaper since you hadn’t had any other, and carried it in your wallet. Days became months, and months became years, longing for a love that was so pure, you couldn’t understand what sick joke the universe had planned out for you.

Yet, you were partially happy that on his last day on Earth, he was able to feel love. He felt your love, your touch, and he was content. His laughter sounded so much more bright and his eyes showered you with so much endearment. You could hardly shake that feeling out of you.

In the end, he got what he wanted. To be remembered as relevant and significant. His dad was finally proud.

And as to you, he was a memory to be remembered forever with fondness. The boy that wanted to marry you, to be your love, your wish, your fantasy. To be anything that you needed.

A/N: Hi! Thank you if you read until the end! This is my first fic posted in here :) Feedback is much appreciated, feel free to tell me your thoughts (even if you think it sucks!!). Also, apologize for any writing errors! Aaand, the song that inspired me to write!

boy, oh boy, do i have some fics planned .

So theres something about Barrys character from Dunkirk, George that makes me want to baby him. Now im not the type to be a dom/mommy but I want this boy to be a whiny mess for me. Him begging to make me feel good and calling him a good boy. like ughh idk i just really feel some type of way with this. this app is slowly converting me.😩😆

also i couldn’t stop thinking about him wanting to eat you out and finger you and give you as much pleasure as you want until hes just cumming in his boxers from grinding into the bed. him asking “was I good boy?” when hes done with you, with pouting lips and puppy eyes galore ughh good shit 😩🥵

could i possibly be 💋? or 💗 whichever is not taken? or if you would like to choose an emoji for me 💞

Oh shit bestie you got me simping over a character from a movie I haven’t even seen yet😵‍💫

I’ve only seen small clips and edits of Barry’s character from Dunkirk but already I can most definitely see this! He looks such a lil subby boy, definitely would imagine he has a mommy kink and just wants to make his partner as good as he can! I’m the same as you bestie I’m not really a dom myself but like, I’d give it a go in this context for sure

Also him cumming in his boxers just from making you feel so good? Oh fuck that’s hot🥴😮‍💨💀

And yes you absolutely can, the 💋 emoji is yours!! Welcome to the hive my darling🥰🖤💫

“All we did is survive.”