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keraawrites · 1 month ago

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Private lesson

Summary: It was a snobby high-class country club, and the only reason you ever stepped foot on its grounds was because of the stupidly hot upcoming young pro golfer. ۶ৎ Armin x black fem reader ۶ৎ

Context: Outdoor sex, unprotected sex, face down ass up, tongue peircing, oral (male and female), dirty talk, name calling (ma, slut, whore), hair pulling, dom Armin, picture taking

Word count — 5.2k

The thing about going to a top-tier high school was that everyone acted like they were two business calls away from running the country. Every hallway conversation was a flex-off—who landed the better internship, who had the higher GPA, who was casually being groomed to take over their family’s tech empire. Everyone was somebody, or pretending hard enough to fake it.

You didn’t have to pretend.

You weren’t just rich. You were connected. Your parents made sure of that. Old money, black excellence, and carefully cultivated prestige followed your name like a designer label.

But unlike the rest of the pill-popping trust fund babies who sniffed coke in bathroom stalls and pretended to give a damn in Model UN, you actually had the résumé to back it up.

President of three student orgs. Captain of the swim team. Debate medals. Volunteer hours. Invited to think tanks at sixteen.

And God, you were so bored.

Everything felt easy now. Predictable. College had sharpened you more than high school ever did, but even here, surrounded by social climbers and legacy students, you’d already hit the ceiling. You were graduating in a month. Off to Rome in June for a summer internship that your professors called “life-changing” and your father’s friends called “brilliant positioning.”

And still—bored.

So fucking bored you could scream.

Your eyes drifted behind your sunglasses, scanning the manicured lawns of the country club like you were searching for something interesting. Nothing but rich people playing dress-up in white and pastels, swinging overpriced clubs, and gossiping behind mimosa glasses.

“If you keep spacing out like that,” a dry voice said beside you, “I may start to think you don’t like me.”

You blinked once, slowly, turning your head toward the man sitting across from you on the club’s patio. “Uncle Levi,” you said, tone flat, “you know I like spending time with you. But I hate this country club.”

Levi Ackerman smirked behind his espresso. You weren’t blood, but he claimed you like you were. Old friend of your father’s from before the money came in—quiet, blunt, always dressed like he was mourning something. He was also the only person who never sugarcoated things with you. Which made him tolerable.

“Yeah, well,” he said, nodding toward the sprawling green in the distance, “at least the view’s decent.”

And he was right.

You took a slow sip of your iced coffee, letting the condensation roll lazily down the cup as your eyes drifted across the range. They landed—again, like muscle memory—on him.

The tall, lean figure in a black polo. Standing near the far practice green, focused and alone. His hands adjusted on the grip of his club with the kind of precision that felt… sensual. Like he thought with his fingertips. Like he trusted his body to remember what his brain wouldn’t say out loud.

Sunlight caught the sweep of his blond hair, brushing it back from his forehead as he shifted his stance. His shirt clung to the sharp lines of his back, and when he swung—fluid, effortless, perfect—you felt your stomach twist.

That was the thing about Armin Arlert.

You’d learned his name a few weeks ago—just in passing, during one of your father’s rare attempts at small talk over dinner.

“He’s the future of the sport,” he’d said. “Quiet kid. Smart. Good form. I invested in his early sponsorship.”

Your ears perked up. You didn’t usually care about what your father invested in. Startups. Political campaigns. A few underground fashion brands trying to break into Tokyo. But this? A person?

“Golf?” you’d repeated flatly, twirling your fork.

Your father nodded. “Young pro, he goes to your college—same year. Sponsored by one of the top athletic firms. He’s got the numbers. All he needs is a clean image and a few more wins. We’re grooming him to be the next golden boy.”

And then he pulled up a clip.

It was less than 90 seconds long—just Armin on a course, mid-tournament. His jaw tight. Eyes focused. Wind in his hair. He moved like the world around him didn’t exist. Like the only thing that mattered was the ball, the swing, the arc.

You'd never been so interested in one of your dad’s boring business tangents.

From that point on, Armin was everywhere. Or maybe it just felt like that. In the student newspaper. On club flyers. In the background of your econ class once or twice. Always quiet. Always composed. But so completely and utterly untouchable.

And that made him irresistible.

Because you didn’t do distant. You didn’t chase. But there was something about him—maybe the way he ignored all the noise, how his entire being was chiseled down into one, singular obsession. Golf.

You could relate.

You’d been obsessed with winning your whole life. And now, bored with everything else, your mind had settled on a new fixation.

Armin Arlert.

Not just because he was beautiful.

Not just because he was brilliant.

But because he didn’t seem to notice you at all.

And you hated that.

“Alright, we’re cutting it close. Yearbooks need to be wrapped by the end of the week. Who’s still left for portraits and legacy blurbs?”

A voice to your left piped up, half-buried in a checklist. “Most of the secret society kids want to do a joint statement. They're scheduling individual shots for later this week.”

You sighed. Of course they were.

“But,” she continued, hesitant, “um—Armin Arlert hasn’t signed up for his photo. And the deadline for that… is today.”

Your pen paused mid-air.

Armin.

The name barely had time to hang in the air before your brain locked onto it like a heat-seeking missile. You blinked once, lashes low, and tilted your head just slightly, trying not to look as interested as you suddenly felt.

“Arlert?” you repeated.

The girl nodded, flipping through the clipboard again. “Yeah. I think he’s been swamped with training or whatever. But if he doesn’t get it in by today, it won’t make print.”

You hummed under your breath, tapping the end of your pen against the table. The meeting buzzed on, voices layered in logistics and complaints—but you’d already tuned out.

You dismissed the meeting soon after, your mind already on the blonde as you unconsciously hunted for him.

You hadn’t even realised you were scanning the quad until you stepped out into the sun, hand shielding your eyes, searching.

It wasn’t stalking, not really. You just happened to remember overhearing—somewhere between class rep gossip and cafeteria noise, that Armin was training on campus today. Something about the varsity golf team getting access to the athletic green while the country club prepped for a corporate retreat.

You saw him perched under a tree, clad in jeans and a polo shirt, jumper tied around his shoulders as he chatted away with Eren Yeager.

"Ahhh, if it isn’t Miss Student Body President herself,” Eren drawled, smirking as he leaned back on his elbows. “To what do we owe the honour? Did the sun come out just for you, or are we just lucky today?”

You ignored the brunette, eyes focused on the blonde who looked up at you as you enetred his view.

“Armin,” you started, voice smooth but edged with command. “You need to take your yearbook photo. Today.”

He blinked. “What?”

You took another step closer, ignoring Eren’s smug little smirk from the side. “You know, the photo you’ve conveniently been avoiding. Legacy, remember? Don’t try to tell me you don’t have time, because clearly you have time to sit around entertaining miscreants.”

“Rude,” Eren mumbled with a laugh, not even offended.

Armin sat up straighter, clearly caught off guard. “I didn’t realise the deadline was today.”

“Well, now you do,” you replied, arms crossing lightly under your chest. “And since I personally came all the way out here to remind you, the least you can do is follow me back and make it quick.”

There was a long pause, you watched Armin shift slightly, something thoughtful in his expression. He wasn’t flustered—he didn’t seem like someone who ever got flustered—but there was a flicker of curiosity behind his calm demeanour. Like he was trying to figure you out.

"I can't today. I have practice."

You stared.

Eren let out a snort. “Damn, I think he just rejected the queen herself. History in the making.”

You ignored him again.

“Practice,” you repeated, one brow arching. “You’re on a bench under a tree, Arlert.”

His lips twitched, just slightly. “I was about to start.”

“Mhm.”

"And, I don't really care about leaving a legacy behind, and if you really need a picture, can't you just get a quick candid when I'm practising?"

Your brow twitched at the second basic 'no'. You didn't do good with the word no.

"Maybe if you get up and come take your picture I'll get daddy to talk to your sponsor about getting you those new clubs that their working on."

You tried really hard to hide your smirk as Armin's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Damn, bribery? Who’s the miscreant now?”

"Shut up, Eren,” Armin muttered, gaze still on you. “Can you actually get that to happen?”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Do you think I make empty promises?”

He didn’t answer, but the look he gave you said enough.

You knew the answer was yes.

After a beat, Armin stood up, brushing off his jeans and slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Fine. I’ll take the picture.”

Your grin widened.

“Great. Studios in the comms building, third floor. I’ll walk you.”

You glanced at Armin from the corner of your eye as the two of you fell into step together. He didn’t speak at first, just adjusted the strap on his bag and kept pace.

"Eren's right. Didn't peg you down for bribery. Me not taking my picture doesn't actually harm you in some way."

You scoffed slightly, heels clicking against the stone steps, smiling softly as students greeted you in pacing.

"I am the head of the committee, so it bothers me when things don't go my way Arlet." Armin felt the corner of his lips pull into a smile, you were just as he thought.

"You know that's kind of like me and golf, its precise so I have to do things exact or it'll just fuck up."

You blinked, caught off guard by the swear that left his lips, you bit your lip softly, feeling the heat go straight to your core.

You finally reached the studio, knocking softly before telling the photographer that someone was here for their picture.

You turned towards the blonde, who was already staring at you.

"What?"

"You really gonna get me them clubs?"

You hummed softly, stepping away from the door as you closed in on him.

"How about I bring them by the club in a couple days and you show me how to use them?"

Arnin chuckled softly, he knew what game you were playing but it wouldn't hurt to play along.

“You want a golf lesson?”

You nodded once. “I’m at the top of the school. I’ve done everything. Won everything. And now I’m bored out of my mind. Graduation can’t come soon enough. So yeah, Armin… I want a golf lesson. And I want you to teach me.”

He held your gaze, a spark flickering behind those thoughtful blue eyes. Then, he stepped toward the studio setup, dropping his bag and rolling his shoulders.

“I’ll send you my schedule.”

Your smile widened. “Looking forward to it, golden boy.”

The breeze teased the hem of your tennis skirt as you made your way across the sprawling green of the country club, sunlight pooling over the trimmed lawn like honey.

It had been a few days since you told Armin you’d bring the clubs.

You remembered talking to your father that night, curled up on the velvet couch in his home office, swirling a mocktail while he poured himself something older than you.

“Get those new golf clubs for Arlert,” you’d said casually, eyes flicking toward your phone screen, where a paused video of Armin’s last tournament.

Your dad had barely looked up from his glass. “Already ahead of you,” he said, voice brimming with the kind of investor excitement that usually puts you to sleep. “Kid’s a prodigy. Ball speed’s insane for his weight class. Balance like a dancer. He's gonna win me a lot of money.”

You bit your lip as your eyes settled on the blonde.

He was stretching, his polo shirt had ridden up your gaze locked in on the happy trail that vanished beneath his belt.

You inhaled, reset your composure, and started walking toward him.

"Hope you're ready for a gift," you called out, causing the blonde to halt his movements.

Armin glanced over his shoulder mid-stretch, brows lifting slightly as he straightened. "Didn’t think you’d actually show."

“You wound me,” you drawled as you stepped closer, arms crossing beneath your chest. His eyes dropped—not subtly. They scanned your whole frame before resting mid thigh, where your pleated tennis skirt teased the bare skin of your thighs.

He didn’t bother hiding the stare.

You didn’t bother hiding the smile.

Then the low hum of an engine broke your moment, a golf cart pulling up beside you. The staffer hopped off and carefully set the bag of clubs at your feet. You murmured a thank-you, dismissing him with a polite nod before nudging the bag toward Armin.

His gaze flicked from the clubs back to your face, and then back again. You saw it—the instant the excitement lit his features like a damn sunrise.

He dropped to a crouch, unzipping the bag with reverence, like it held holy relics. His fingers ghosted over the matte graphite shafts, his mouth parting just slightly.

“Fuck,” he muttered, lifting one of the irons. “These are actually the real deal.”

You giggled as he turned the club over in his hands, admiring every inch of it like it was art.

“TaylorMade’s unreleased line,” you said, letting the pride bleed into your tone. “Balanced for your tempo. Personalized grip. Straight from the R&D lab to your hands. Told you—I don’t make empty promises.”

Armin stood and took a practice swing, slow and smooth. His stance was perfect—shoulders loose, core tight, legs braced with just enough tension. His follow-through was fluid, almost hypnotic.

God, he looked good like that.

He exhaled a low breath and shook his head. “Fuck, fuck—these are fucking legendary.” He brought the club back up, eyes wide with awe. “I’ve never felt anything this smooth. They feel like they were built for me.”

You leaned a little closer, chin tilted up. “They were.”

He looked at you—really looked. Something unreadable flashed behind his expression, something that simmered just beneath the surface of admiration and gratitude.

“You’re kind of insane,” he said, tone light but edged with disbelief. “In the best way.”

You laughed. “I get that a lot.”

He grabbed a ball from his own bag, tossing it lightly into the air before catching it. “Alright, if you’re really serious about this golf lesson, you’re getting the full treatment.”

“Oh?” you asked, arching a brow.

“Grip, stance, swing, posture. No shortcuts. No half-assing.”

You smirked. “I’m not usually the one doing the assing, but okay.”

That made him laugh—really laugh. He rubbed a hand over his face, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe he was putting up with you.

"Okay, some people are visual learners so why don't you watch me with my stance and hit a couple balls and then you'll give it a go."

You nodded, sinking down onto the green, your skirt fanned around your thighs, as you stretched your legs out in front of you. You pushed your sunglasses up into your hair, eyes tracking every move he made.

Armin lined up, posture precise. He rolled his shoulders once, adjusted his grip on the club, then exhaled slowly through his nose. You watched the transformation happen in real time—the soft-spoken golden boy gone laser-focused and lethal.

His swing was a thing of beauty—clean, practiced, elegant. The club sliced through the air with a whisper and connected with the ball with a satisfying crack, sending it sailing in a perfect arc across the range.

You let out a low whistle. “Okay, that was actually kinda sexy.”

He looked over his shoulder at you, shaking his head, but you caught the faint pink blooming in his ears.

“Again,” you said, grinning. “Slow this time.”

Armin rolled his eyes but did as asked, resetting. “You better be paying attention.”

“Oh, I am,” you murmured, voice dropping a note lower.

He hit another. And another. Each swing was different, slightly adjusted for distance and control, but all of them were sharp, intentional, perfect.

After the fourth, he stepped back and turned to you. “Your turn.”

You stood, brushing grass off the back of your thighs with a dramatic sigh. “Fine. But if I break a nail, I’m suing.”

He chuckled, handing you one of the new clubs. “Not a chance. These were built for royalty, remember?”

You took the club, turning it over in your hands like you weren’t just admiring the curve of his back ten seconds ago. You stepped up to the ball, adjusting your grip and spacing your feet like you vaguely remembered him doing.

He walked up behind you, close—but not touching. “You’re too stiff. Relax.”

You arched your back slightly. “Is this better?”

“Nope. Worse,” he said, clearly trying not to smile. “Here—let me help.”

His hands slid onto your hips, gently nudging you into place. His fingers were warm, steady, and stayed a second longer than necessary.

“There,” he said quietly, voice close to your ear. “Now try.”

You swung.

And absolutely whiffed it.

“Shit—”

Armin laughed again, stepping back as you straightened. “We’re gonna be here a while, come on--lets go get the balls."

Armin put his sunglasses on as he helped you into the passenger side, his hand resting on your mid-back. He drove off once he settled in the drivers seat, his hand brushing against your thigh. You crossed your legs, skirt riding up a little, which caused the blonde's hands to pause before they settled on your knee.

The cart pulled to a stop, some balls littered in the distance, the area seemed more private.

Armin helped you out of the cart but before he could say anything, you already walked off and began picking up some of the balls.

You could feel his burning gaze on you as you bent over to pick up the golf balls. You could feel the slight breeze on your ass, you smirked as you heard his murmered curses.

"Okay I'm ready."

You turned to face the blonde who was still standing by the the cart his gaze soley on you.

"Armin."

The boy blinked, gaze adjusting, "Huh, yeah okay, erm okay yeah."

You giggled as Armin grabbed the clubs, he walked over to you, handing over the club before you took your stance.

His breath hit the back of your neck, warm and shallow. You held still as his hand skimmed your wrist, then ghosted along your forearm to adjust your grip. His other hand dropped lightly to your waist.

“Relax your shoulders,” he said, voice softer now. Lower. “And keep your weight even between both feet. You’re leaning into your right side too much.”

You pushed yourself back into his chest, your ass grazing the outline of his dick. You could feel the intake of his breath before his gripped tigheted agaisnt your waist.

"Okay," His breath fanned against your ear, "now take a big swing."

You hummed softly, feeling his grip on your waist tightened, his hand over yours as he gudied you to take your swing.

Your head tilted to the side as his nose brushed the edge of your ear, his hands left your arms before they tightened on your waist.

"Do you want me to fuck you on this field?"

A quiet moan slipped from your lips before you could catch it. The shift between his personality was intense.

His teeth grazed your earlobe, tugging just hard enough to send a jolt down your spine. His hands drifted lower, cupping your ass possessively over the thin fabric of your skirt.

"You think you can?"

The blonde chuckled before his lips met yours. You moaned at the feel and taste of his lips, your hands pressed firmly against his chest, his fingers trailed against your bare thigh before cupping your ass under your skirt.

You gasped as his tongue slipped past your lips, slick and demanding, a cool tap of metal catching against yours. Your fingers curled into his chest, pressing close as realisation settled in.

“Wait—” your voice hitched, “you have your tongue pierced?”

“Mmhmm,” he smirked against your jaw, his lips moving down the column of your throat, hot and unrelenting. “Didn’t think I’d use it on you this soon... but I’m not about to waste the opportunity.”

You moaned again, head tilting back as he scooped you up effortlessly, your thighs locking around his waist on instinct. He kissed you through your surprised laugh, walking both of you to the cart.

The cold leather of the golf cart seat kissed your ass as he sat you down, his lips trailed along the barness of your skin before he fully sunk down to his knees.

You barely had time to blink before his hands were parting your thighs, spreading them open wide beneath your skirt.

“You know,” he murmured, lifting the hem slowly, reverently, “I thought about this. Not like—exactly this, but something close.”

You moaned, head tilting back as you tried to hide your smile, "Yeah? Didn't think you were into me."

Armin kissed the inside of your thighs, fingers barley grazing the outline of your clit before your tugged your panties to your ankles.

"Hmm, whatever gave you that idea?"

"Maybe because—fuck Armin." You gasped, one hand flying to the back of his head when you felt his tongue swipe through your folds—piercing grazing your clit in a way that had your hips jerking up off the seat.

Armin groaned at the taste of you, his tongue welcomed your jucies as he burried his face futher into your cunt.

His hands kept your legs spread as his tongue fucked into you, switching between broad licks and tight flicks over your clit, like he was trying to figure out what made you squirm the most—and then doing exactly that on purpose.

“Taste so fucking good,” he groaned, voice muffled between your thighs. “You’re gonna make me lose my mind. You know that? You think I didn’t know how often you watched me on the field?”

You whimpered, already close, hips rocking against his mouth. He sucked your clit into his mouth, tongue swirling, then popped it with a lewd sound that made your breath hitch.

Your whole body shivered when Armin rolled his piercing over your swollen bud, your fingers tightened in his hair as his two of his fingers bullied their way into your cunt.

Your instantly clenched around them, the squelch loud and obscene as he started to fuck them into you hard and fast.

“Fuck, look at you,” he muttered, voice dark and raw with lust. “Drippin’ like a damn faucet. This pussy’s so wet for me it’s embarrassing. But you like it, don’t you? Like being used out here where anyone could see.”

A scream ripped from your throat, the blonde pulling away to look at your face, his smile was feral as his fingers roughly curled against your G-spot.

“You gonna come on my tongue and fingers like a good girl?” he taunted, pressing messy, wet kisses along your inner thigh. “Wanna make a mess for me? Let everyone know who this pussy belongs to?”

You nodded, breathless, tears threatening to sting your eyes.

“Say it.”

“Y-yes! Armin—please, wanna come for you, wanna come so bad—fuck, don’t stop—!”

He growled and sealed his mouth over your cunt again, the silver ball rolling over your clit one last time as he licked you through the sharp rise of your orgasm until you were writhing, hips jerking, thighs threatening to close around his head. But he held you there, firm and inescapable, until your body trembled against the leather.

Armin finally pulled away from you, his chin wet with your slick, the blonde smiled before he leaned up to press a kiss to your lips, his tongue shoving into your mouth so you could taste yourself on him. When he pulled back, his soaked fingers slipped from between your thighs and lifted to your mouth.

“Open.”

You did as he said—eyes locked on his, you moaned around his fingers as he slid them past your lips. You sucked them in slow, tongue swirling, moaning at your own taste while his gaze darkened further.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered, eyes fixed on the way your lips wrapped around his knuckles.

Armin swore he could have busted a nut right then and there.

You let Armin's fingers go with a soft pop, eyes bold and looking up at him all innocent. It drove him insanse.

The blonde quickly pulled you up, your breathing laboured as he lowered you to the ground, your knees meeting the grass as you became eye level with his crotch.

You watched Armin's fingers as they worked on the belt of his slacks, you bit your lip softly after he freed his cock from it's confinement.

Fuck, fuck there was no way that was gonna fit.

The blonde looked down at you, his lips pulling into a smirk as your eyes widened.

“You can take it,” he said low, gripping the base and dragging the tip slowly across your lips, smearing precum against them. “Open that pretty mouth for me.”

You obeyed instantly, lips parting as he eased himself past them. The first few inches filled your mouth with weight and heat, and he groaned deep—his head falling back for a second, throat tight.

“Fuuuck, there you go,” he rasped, one hand braced on your jaw while the other threaded deep in your braids. “Shit, baby, look at you—so fuckin’ eager now, huh?”

You moaned around him, the sound vibrating through your throat as your tongue curled along the underside of his cock. You could feel him twitch when your spit started to gather, dripping from the corners of your mouth.

He started to guide your movements, slow and steady as he fucked your mouth. Every time you gagged just a little, he moaned like you were a drug.

“Yeah… take it, fuck, just like that,” he growled. “Didn’t think the sweet little President had a dirty fucking mouth like this.”

You whimpered around him, fingers digging into the back of his thighs as he gently rocked his hips forward again.

When he finally pulled back, strings of spit still connected your lips to his cock. His hand gripped your chin, tilting your face up to meet his stare—eyes blown wide, mouth messy, pupils wild with lust.

“Get in the cart,” he said, voice sharp.

You didn’t even hesitate.

As you turned and climbed in, he followed close behind, hands already on your hips. You barely got one knee on the seat before he was crowding you from behind, pushing your skirt up, groaning at the sight of pussy.

“Fucking dripping, and I haven’t even put it in yet. Such a desperate little thing, huh?”

You whimpered, arching your back and wiggling your hips for him, already trembling with need.

Armin ran his tip through your folds causing you to whine, "Your so presistent you know."

He growled, pulling away slightly to stroke himself. “Fucking chasing me for one stupid yearbook photo but you're really just a needy fuckin’ slut, aren’t you? Just wanted me to fuck you.”

You gasped, embarrassment blooming right alongside your arousal. But god, it turned you on more than you'd admit. “Please… Armin, I need it,” you breathed.

“Oh, you need it now?” he sneered, grabbing a handful of your braids, yanking your head back.

You whined, eyes fluttering shut, your pussy clenching around nothing. You didn't even have time to beg him some more before he slammed into you in one deep, brutal thrust, punching the air out of your lungs.

You screamed, back arching, nails digging into the leather of the golf cart seat.

“Fuck yes,” he hissed, setting a punishing rhythm right out the gate. “This pussy’s so goddamn tight—gripping me like you were made for it.”

Your mind was a haze, you would have never had guess that the golden boy, the one who just wants to golf and graduate, had such a sinful cock and a filthy mouth.

He grunted as his hips smacked against your ass, the sound filthy and loud in the quiet of the green. His balls slapped against your clit with every thrust, making you moan uncontrollably.

“Bet you fingered yourself to me, huh?” he panted. “Touchin’ that nasty little cunt thinkin’ about me fucking you stupid. That’s why you got me those clubs, right? Wanted me to thank you just like this.”

You moaned louder, drool slipping past your lips.

He slapped your ass hard, then again, until it stung. “Look at this messy fucking cunt,” he growled, spreading your cheeks wider. “All sloppy and stretched around my dick. That’s what you wanted, huh? Wanted me to treat you like the dumb little whore you are?”

“Y-yes, god, Armin—don’t stop,” you cried, body rocking with every heavy thrust.

He reached around and rubbed your clit mercilessly, fast and tight, just to make you scream again. “Come on then. Be a good slut. Come on my cock.”

You shattered.

You screamed his name, legs shaking violently as your orgasm ripped through you, cunt clenching around his cock like a vice. You collapsed forward, arms limp, drool slipping from your lips as you sobbed through the high.

But Armin didn’t stop.

“Uh-uh. Why you running for?” he chuckled, yanking you back by your waist and slamming into you again, chasing his own release with brutal thrusts that had your body going limp in his hold.

“Fuck—gonna fill you up,” he growled, voice rough and wrecked. “Gonna come so deep, it leaks down your thighs and stains that pretty little skirt. You’ll smell like me for days.”

You weren't sure if you were making sense, you were a babbling sensitive mess as Armin continued to fuck you. Your body molding into the leather seats of the cart as your ass continued to clap against his pelvis.

It didn't take him long before he bottomed out, groaning loudly as he emptied himself inside you.

You moaned softly at the warmth, his cock twitching inside your overstimulated cunt.

He didn’t move for a moment, just gripped your hips and breathed hard, staring down at the mess he’d made of you.

Then he pulled out slow, watching his cum spill out of you and drip to the grass.

Armin chuckled softly, you barely registered the shuffle behind you until Armin helped roll you onto your back on the cart seat. You blinked up at him through hazy, fucked-out tears.

“Wh… what’re you…?” you murmured, voice raw.

"You know how you chased me down for one stupid picture. Isn't it only fair I get one in return?"

Confusion filled your eyes before you saw him bring a polaroid camera up to his face. Your eyes widened, your legs were still spread, his cum dripping out of you, face dazed and perfect.

"Say cheese baby."

𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘮𝘦, 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘢𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 ©

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bluewxrld07 · 2 months ago

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I'm The Problem (Luke Hughes)

Summary: Luke isn't the happiest camper post his shoulder surgery, and he feels at a loss at the fact he needs help doing almost everything. His best friend Y/N has been there every step of the way, but takes a step back after Luke get overstimulated

Warning(s): angst, yelling/cursing, crying, lack of self-worth

"For fucks sake."

Luke was annoyed to say the absolute least.

After getting an injury towards the end of the season, especially during playoffs, he felt like he let down the team at the one time where it counted most.

The surgery went smooth and well, it was the recovery that was taking a toll on him. He was a someone who liked the faster healing process rather than sitting on being patient. Only in certain cases that is, which this one happens to be part of.

He always looked forward to the summertime because he got to see his friends back home, stay at the lakehouse, golf and skate freely without the pressure on him.

Now he could barely do any of that without his injury causing some sort of issue. Don't even get him started on the sling. He hated that thing with a burning passion.

Y/N though, was there to help pick him back up when he needed it most.

She managed to take time off of work for a couple weeks during the week of his surgery to help him, especially since Jack was still in recovery from his own.

Luke didn't think he'd be able to get through anything without her around, she was an angel in disguise for him post surgery.

That was at first.

The more and more Luke figured out he couldn't do while in Michigan, the more frustrated and overwhelmed he began to feel. He couldn't swing a golf club, put on clothes properly, wash his hair, drive a car (or boat for that matter). It was beginning to piss him off as time went on.

Y/N would cut in to help him whenever she could see the annoyance reaching his eyes.

The time he was trying to open one of his meal prep containers, tongue sticking out as he grumbled at it not opening.

So Y/N walked over and softly grabbed it from his hands. "I got it, it's okay." she assures him with a soft smile, opening it with a pop and handing it back to him.

"Thank you pretty girl," he chuckles dryly.

Luke first started off mumbling out 'thank you's and now he barely said a thing when she'd cut in. He would either scoff or stomp away like a toddler.

Y/N understood how helpless Luke felt, as having a knee surgery a few years back that caused her to be bedridden for a month or two. it was hard to see everyone doing stuff for you around you when all you wanted to do was accomplish it on your own.

What Luke didn't know was how exhausted Y/N was. Not mentally, but physically. She was up every night the week post his surgery, making sure to switch out his ice packs, bandages, meds, you name it.

She only got a couple hours of sleep realistically each night during that time. She would never complain about it, because she wanted to make the process easy on Luke.

It was now the summertime in which meant she was done with college for the time being until fall, so she was also joining the boys at the lakehouse as per tradition. Not only to make sure Luke had the help he needed, but to also see her other favorite friends she hadn't seen in a bit as they were all traveling for work too.

It was another early morning in the Hughes lakehouse, she was just returning from her workout session and grocery shopping when she could hear the quiet commotion of some of the boys awake in the kitchen.

She smiles warmly as she sets down both arms that are full of grocery bags, nicely onto the counter. Dylan Duke, Cole and Quinn were all awake and made their ways over to the girl to help unpack everything.

"You're all awake earlier than usual." she jokes, opening a bottle of water.

"We decided to run this morning, and we were the only ones who actually got up at our alarms to go." Cole mentions, making her chuckle lightly.

"Should've came and joined my class today. Totally would've made you sweat your asses off, but totally worth how you feel afterwards." She says after she swallows a sip of her drink.

Quinn gives her a look, and points at her. "Absolutely not, I've seen how scary Hot Pilates can be." he denies as he puts groceries away.

"Oh come on it isn't that bad. You gotta try it before you hate on it!" she argues, Dylan laughing at her statement.

"We choose life sweetheart," Cole laughs. "Besides us men can't be seen dying in a class like that. Let's be real." Dylan adds. Y/N rolls her eyes playfully.

"Besides," Quinn buds in. "Luke was about to go insane if he didn't get out of this house somehow and do something more productive."

Y/N raises her brow. "He went running too?"

The boys nodded. "How'd he feel after that?" she says, going to sit at one of the barstools and crossing one leg over the other.

Quinn puts a hand over his neck and slides it across as if to signal not to ask. She purses her lips. "That bad huh?"

Dylan sighs. "He ended up stopping halfway through and walking the rest of the way because the motion kept killing his shoulder. He was red in the face by the time he got back to the house, and it wasn't just from how warm it is outside."

Y/N rubs a hand over her face. "Did he take any of his painkillers? I left them on his nightstand this morning before I left."

Dylan shrugs his shoulders. "No idea. He was too crabby to talk to, so I have no idea."

"You know I'm not deaf right?" Luke's voice booms into the kitchen, his back turned towards them all as he goes to sit on the couch.

He was dressed in a pair of athletic shorts and a plain navy blue t-shirt, his sling over his body and hair still slightly damp from his shower.

Y/N looks at the boys, trying to hide her amused smile as they are. They decide to keep putting stuff away for Y/N while she looks back at Luke who is hunched over and tense.

She hops off the chair and makes her way towards him and rounds the couch to sit next to the blond boy.

He is staring forward, knee bouncing as if he is contemplating in his head.

"How're you feeling Lu?" she asks cautiously.

Luke just grimaces. "Sore." Is all he responds with.

"Did you take some of your meds?"

"Yeah I did when I got back."

"Why didn't you take them before?"

Luke just lets out a loud huff and rolls his eyes, standing up his spot and walking into the kitchen to join the boys conversation.

Y/N frowns at his mood change, knowing no matter how frustrated he got, he never shut her down like that. Instead of bombarding him she ignores it and stands up herself.

"I'm gonna go shower, and then what is the plan today?" she asks.

Cole scratches his head. "Uhhh I think we're going to do the boat for like an hour or two, and then Jack was saying we should hit up this new juice place. He said it's similar to Jamba Juice or something, but it's like the protein juice things."

She gives a thumbs up before walking away towards Luke's room to grab a change of clothes before heading to shower.

Once she finishes and she's dressed, she heads back down the stairs to now see everyone was awake and music was softly playing in the background as they all conversed.

Jack saw her and smiled before pulling her in for a bear hug. "Goodmorning sunshine."

"More like good afternoon now sir." she chuckles, and Jack rolls his eyes as he looks down at her when they break apart. "Hey I forgot I told them I would join this morning, I like my sleep."

"Oh I know. I said you guys should've just joined my workout class this morning."

Jack snorts. "Absolutely not, I choose life my dear Y/N."

"That's what I told her!" Dylan points out, mouthful of food.

"You're a bunch of wimps." she laughs as she goes to grab the cooler off of Quinn's hands.

"Let's get this show on the road now shall we? We're wasting daylight!" she says before heading towards the sliding door.

They all began to slowly follow behind the girl, her letting them all pass to make sure the door was shut before they left. Luke was the last to leave, his face still a bit more droopy. His eyes caught hers, and she gave him a soft, warm smile. "You ready to go?" she says.

"I'm here aren't I?" he says with an annoyed tone, making her smile fall slightly but she tries to hide it and just nods.

"I brought some of your stuff just incase you start to hurt while we're out there." she says, and he just nods.

"You feeling okay Luke?" she finally asks as they walk side by side.

"Yes I'm fine, stop asking." he says in a short tone, earning a frown from Y/N.

"Watch the tone I'm only asking because I care." she shoots back, and watches his face fall slightly.

"Sorry. I'm sorry you're right. I'm just really sore today." he says with a sigh, and she nods. "That's okay. It's normal. I get it." is all she answers with a tight smile.

The rest of the way onto the boat is quiet between them both, Luke deciding to catch up to Duke and talk with him as they got onto the boat.

Jack helped grab the cooler and Y/N's wrist to help her onto the boat, the girl smiling thankfully at him as she stepped onto the wobbly platform.

She went to go sit across from Luke instead of next to him like she usually would, just to give him a bit of space as she's noticed his mood has been a bit more negative with her.

Luke doesn't say anything as he sees her sit across from him, only eyeing her as he talks to Duke who sits on one side of him. She gives him a tight-lipped smile before looking away and starts to talk with Cole and Trevor, Quinn being the designated driver for the day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ouch Trevor! Move your fat ass over!" Y/N laughs out, pushing the boy over to his side of the booth, rolling her eyes as he playfully dramatized her actions with a fake pout.

The other boys get back with everyone's drinks, Y/N thanking Quinn as he handed her what she ordered before she takes a sip.

The group all converses amongst one another, discussing the plans for the summer and all the concerts they have all planned while sipping and munching on food and drinks.

"So Y/N you gonna have any dates while you're out here this summer?" Cole teases, earning a look from her with an amused smile.

"Yeah absolutely not. Remember how that went last summer?"

"Which one? The one that stood you up and said his fish died, or the one that ordered for you?" he jokes.

"Both actually," she chuckles while sipping on her drink.

"Yeah I remember when you texted the chat saying how the dumbass had been already sitting at a table with food ordered by the time you got there."

"Wait what? He already had it ordered?" Jack snorts.

She nods with a laugh. "Oh yeah. Basically gave me the house salad that comes with his order. So didn't even order me something for myself." she says, the guys all laughing.

Luke rolls his eyes and shakes his head as he remembers that day. She felt so annoyed and so pissed off, and she was starving after that ended.

"Never again. If I go on a date at all this summer, it's because it's with the guy I'd actually want to go on one with." she admits, making the boys all snap their heads to her.

"Wait," Trevor says, mouthful of chips. "There actually is a guy you have your eyes on??" he questions, and she nods with a raised brow.

"Who?" Duke pries, and she shrugs her shoulders while stirring her drink.

Her eyes scan the group, Jack giving her a knowing look and she just averts his gaze. "Oh come on you've gotta give us something." Cole groans, and she shakes her head.

"Nope not this year."

"Why not?"

"Because everytime I tell you guys, I feel like I jinx it because then they ghost me right after!"

"I doubt this one would." Quinn hums out, making her snap her head towards him and his shrugs.

"What? It's true!"

"Quinn knows?! Why does Quinn know?" Trevor whines.

"She didn't tell me, I just figured it out." he laughs, and she points at him with a nod.

"He's right."

"Well then now you have to tell us." Trevor begs, and she shakes her head with a laugh.

"What does Golfing look like this week?" she says to change the subject. The guys easily grab onto the bait and start discussing what they had in mind, her eyes drifting towards Luke who sat in the corner of the booth.

He was in his own world, gnawing on his straw as he tries to listen to the group converse. She can tell he is in his own mind.

She lightly nudges his leg underneath the table, causing him to snap out of his daze and look over at her. "You feeling alright?" she asks a little bit more on the quiet side, not to disturb the group of boys in front of them.

He rolls his eyes. "Y/N when are you going to stop asking me that? It's really not necessary." His gaze going back to the boys.

"You just seem off, and I want to make sure you're okay. Or that if your shoulder is bugging you-"

"I'm not a pussy I can handle the soreness and pain that comes with my injury, alright? Knock it off." he snaps quietly, his eyes burning over towards hers.

She looks at him in disbelief, stunned at the words that just came out of his mouth.

"Fuck me I guess." she mumbles back before deciding to ignore his energy, ignoring the look he throws her way after she says that, indulging in the new topic the boys were now caught into.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Once they had arrived home from the juice place, Y/N was at a breaking point.

After how Luke had treated her throughout the day, she began to realize something was seriously wrong with him. She couldn't figure out what it was.

She knew he had been frustrated about his injury in general, but she didn't know why it was getting worse whenever she came around.

The boys all went to sit down in the livingroom as the rain started to slowly come down. The soft patters being heard on the rooftop of the house.

They turned on some country music while connecting the PS5 to the giant TV screen. Y/N had gone into the kitchen to go and grab herself something to eat and something to drink, setting it onto the kitchen island as she also went and prepped Luke's meds he was supposed to take every evening like clockwork.

The glass of water fills up and she tries to hide the shaking in her hands, both from exhaustion and anxiety because of what's going on with Luke.

She shook the tension away that was forming between them, and put on a fake facade while walking over to the boys.

"You going to come and join us for a round?" Cole asks, motioning towards the video games on the screen.

She smiles and nods. "Yes I will. Just give me a few minutes."

Y/N walks towards the other big couch where Luke was sitting with Duke and Jack, softly putting her hand on his good shoulder. He whipped his head towards her before rolling his eyes.

"Hey I have your meds, and I grabbed you a water to help get them down-"

"I don't need it."

"Luke you know you're supposed to take these or you can't sleep." she pries with a frown.

He huffs and decides to ignore her, starting to talk to Duke and Jack again. The boys give her a reassuring look before looking back at Luke.

"Luke, take them. You know how you get without them. If you take them later you're going to get sick." she tries again soft but stern.

Luke still doesn't acknowledge her, so she lets out a huff.

"Luke I swear if you don't take these-"

"Oh my fucking fuck Y/N just stop! I said No!"

"Luke I know you don't want to, but your surgeon says you need-"

"I don't give a fuck! I am sick of taking those and I am sick of you breathing down my neck and forcing those down my throat. Seriously knock it the fuck off!" he snaps, making the room quiet and look at the pair.

His eyes are now staring up at hers with a sharp glare, hers frowning down at him in confusion.

"Luke what the fuck is your issue? I'm just trying to help you-"

"Well fucking stop helping! I don't need your help, or you! You're insufferable! You breathe down my neck at every single moment of every single fucking day and it's annoying. You're like a clingy girlfriend who won't hop off my dick. Seriously stop, just stop!" he yells out, and begins to stand up.

Only when he stands up, his good shoulder hits her hands that were frozen in place with the glass and pills. Before she can react, the glass and pills spill from her hands and crash onto the hardwood floor, glass shattering everywhere.

It was so silent that you could've heard a pin drop. Y/N is frozen as she looks at the mess on the ground, hands shaking as her anxiety increases, hands frozen in their spot where she was once holding things.

She could feel the tears forming, lip quivering.

"Y/N" Jack's voice perks up slowly.

"Y/N are you okay?" Jack asks slowly once again. She snaps out of her daze, and sniffles putting on a fake smile.

She nods quickly and her arms fall to their sides.

"Yeah. Yeah I'm fine, I'm good. I uh I'm just going to clean this up and head to bed." she says before walking quickly to the kitchen to grab the cleaning supplies.

Jack is the first to stand up and follow behind her to the closet.

She's letting out a few huffs and sniffles when he sees her, shakily grabbing the broom and dust pan. Jack grabs them from her hands and says her name softly to have her look up at him.

"I got it. It's okay." he says to her in an assuring tone.

She looks into his eyes for a second, Jack seeing the heartbreak hitting her eyes as tears fall freely.

"I got the mess. Okay?" he says one more time, and she wipes her eyes.

"Okay." she sighs before leaving the room quickly and rushing up the stairs.

When Jack emerges from the closet and over towards the mess on the ground, his eyes glared over at Luke who was still standing and facing where Y/N once stood.

"You're a fucking asshole, Luke." he growls out. Luke sighs and lets his head fall.

"That was a dick move. Real dick move bro, she's been there for you the most out of anybody." Duke adds in, Luke running his hands through his hair.

"Well she hasn't left me alone for one fucking minute! I was losing my mind okay? This recovery has fucking sucked." he sputter out, sitting back down and putting his face into one hand.

"Do you know how much shit she has done for you? She didn't sleep a wink when she was one jersey during your first week post surgery." Jack admits.

"What do you mean?" Luke says.

"She stayed up a majority of every night in case you woke up in pain, or in case you needed something other than your doses of your meds. She was the one who would fill the kitchen with your favorite snacks. Your favorite drinks. She was the one who has dropped everything to take you to PT and your surgical follow ups. She hasn't slept since your surgery, because she wants to make sure this recovery is as easy as it can be for you!" Jack bursts, red in the face.

Luke sighs. "Fuck." he winces.

"Dude if you weren't injured right now I'd fucking smack you silly." Quinn scoffs.

"I don't care if you're injured, I'm still debating on doing it." Jack says.

Luke felt like shit. It was all hitting him now.

The times he caught her already awake at five in the morning. The tired red eyes she would have, bags very prominent underneath. The little naps she would take on his lap during the day. Her forgetting to eat because she was so caught up on preparing his food. Missing nights out with her girlfriends to be there for his appointments and PT.

Now he knows he has fucked up in the past, but he really fucked up in this moment. He fucked up terribly.

"I'd be so surprised if you're able to fix this one. You really hurt her, Luke." Jack says, a tired tone being heard in his voice.

"I really fucking hurt her. Fuck I fucked up bad." he groans out, feeling his face get hot and eyes gloss over.

All of their ears perked up when they hear the front door shut, Jack's eyes darting back over to Luke with a scowl as his own face had a fearful look going.

Silence follows as the boys watch Jack drop the supplies in his hands and scurry towards the entryway and open the door.

The door slams shut and Jack comes stomping back.

He points at Luke. "I'm gonna beat your ass." he snaps walking over towards his brother, Cole and Trevor walking towards him and pull him back. Luke stands up.

"What? Why? What happened?"

"She's gone."

Luke's eyes widen, soon rounding the couch and running up the stairs and towards his room.

He slams the door open on turns on the light, frowning when he sees her stuff is still on her side of his bed still in the messy clean form it was in this morning.

He rushes down the stairs. "Her stuff is still here." he says.

Jack is running his hand through his hair while the other is sitting on his hip.

"You better go find her. You better fucking find her, or hope she fucking comes back in one piece. If not, it's your head that will be on a stick by morning."

Luke glares at Jack at his sudden protectiveness over Y/N. "Since when do you get so protective over her? What's your fucking deal?"

"Because that girl is one you shouldn't treat like shit or throw away! She's one that you keep around forever, Luke. That girl is so fucking in love with you and you fucking blew it!" Jack says, his voice raising with every word he says.

Luke freezes.

"Wait, what?"

Jack bites his lip. "Fuck," he hisses. "I wasn't supposed to say that."

"Since when? How long have you known this?" Luke says, his anger now rising.

"No you don't get to fucking be the one who is pissed off! You don't get to act like that!" Quinn buds in.

Luke glares at his older brother. "You knew too? Are you fucking joking? Why-"

"Alright fucking enough! This isn't what we should be fighting about, what we should be doing is figuring out how the fuck Luke is going to fix things with Y/N." Trevor bursts out, making everyone turn over to him in shock.

Trevor throws his hands up in the air. "Yeah I know. Trevor of all people saying you guys need to calm the fuck down, but seriously I'm the only one that is also willing to see that we have a bigger issue to fix right now."

"Luke you need to figure out what you're going to say and do to fix this," Trevor instructs while pointing at him. He then points at the other boys. "You guys can sort your shit out afterwards. Y/N comes first right now."

Luke huffs, knowing he really had to sort his shit out. He royally fucked up badly, and this was the girl he cared about more than anyone else who existed in his life.

Jack was right. She was a forever girl.

He just hoped that she would still be there after all of this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Y/N arrived home, it was late. WayI late.

She knew it was way late when all of the boys were sleeping, and the lights were all off inside the house. The outdoor porch light glowing a dark orange as she approached the front door.

Sniffles left her lips as she tried to stay as quiet as she could while opening the door, silently closing and locking it behind her.

The girl kicks her shoes off and lines them up at the door with all the other pairs of shoes there, setting her keys on the group key hanger before padding into the kitchen.

She turns on the dimmer lighting, hoping to not let it be too bright to wake any of the boys whom were sleeping on the main floor bedrooms.

When she opened the fridge she saw her leftovers that she was going to eat earlier that night sitting right in the smack-dab front, a note adorning the top of the lid.

Made sure nobody touched it. I hope you're home safely

-Quinn

She sighs before placing the note on the counter, opening up the container and grabbing a fork as she decides to just eat it cold to not worry about waking up anyone in the house.

Y/N brings the bowl over to one of the living room couches and eats in absolute silence, her mind running in circles as it has been all night. She thought maybe going for a drive and then stopping at the beachfront of the lake next to theirs would be a way to somewhat clear her mind a bit.

As she sat there alone with her thoughts once more, she couldn't help but break down into more tears.

Her container falls onto the coffee table as she lets the tears fall freely, putting her head into her hands as she lays herself on her side. Her chest feeling heavy as her heart breaks over again.

She couldn't believe Luke had really said those things. Really thought that about her especially.

Was she really that clingy? That much of a nuisance to Luke? Was she just causing more harm than good to him right now? Should she just leave the lakehouse in the morning was the real question.

She didn't know what to do.

Tears kept falling freely as she lay there on the couch, curled into a ball, rubbing her arms up and down.

Her eyes suddenly started to feel heavier, her sobs turning into soft hiccups, tears drying on her face that was red, splotchy and puffy. She let her eyes slowly close, her mind trying to be silenced by sleep.

Which slowly does take over.

Y/N soon is fast asleep on the couch, no blanket or pillow covering her as she was too caught up in her mind to notice.

Little did she realize that her container falling onto the table caused a loud enough noise for the oldest Hughes brother to stun awake and head out to the kitchen to see what was happening.

He squints around, then does s double take when he sees a small form curled up on the couch while little hiccups left their mouth. He walks over, his heart clenching as he sees Y/N shaking from crying so much while being fast asleep.

He grabs her bowl and puts the rest back into the fridge for her tomorrow, then walking back over to the girl and picking her up slowly to not disturb the much needed slumber she needs.

Quinn looks down at her, seeing how torn her face looked even in her sleep. If thoughts could kill in that moment, he was sure Luke would be dead in an instant.

Once he is back into his room, he quietly shuts the door and brings her over to lay in his bed. He sets her down softly and cover her up with his comforter, kissing her head softly. "I'm so sorry he did this to you." he whispers out, knowing she couldn't hear him.

He sighs before standing up and walking over to his side of the bed and getting in. Once his light is turned off he is laying on his side and keeps his distance from Y/N so she has her space, before he himself slowly falls back into a deep slumber.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Her car is here so she had to come back. There is no way she would just disappear." Luke says as he paces around. "She didn't come sleep in my room last night."

"Well I wouldn't blame her is she decided to sleep somewhere else too. I wouldn't want to be near you either after being told all of that." Duke says, earning a look from Luke. His friend put his hands up in defense.

Jack, Cole and Trevor were all out that morning picking up some of Y/N favorites in opes that they could try to make her feel a bit better, while Luke was conjuring up what he was going to do and say to Y/N to at least get on a path towards fixing things between them both.

"Where would she have gone? She hates sleeping in other beds. She says they're not as comfortable, and I'm the only one in the house that has a fan. Because she can't sleep without one." Luke bombards, biting his nails.

"Well I think after how much she cried out last night, her body will be out for quite some time with no fan or your bed needed." Quinn's voice perks up, the boys waltzing into the kitchen with a yawn.

Luke stops pacing and looks at Quinn.

"What do you mean? Where is she? Is she safe?"

Quinn shushes his brother with a look and a hand motion to shut him up.

"Yes she is fine. She's asleep in my room-"

"What the fuck-"

"No don't start that shit. She wouldn't be in there in the first place if you didn't act like a bitch and go off on her like you did last night." Quinn chirps before Luke can say another word. "So yeah she is sleeping in my room. I woke up because I heard her come home, she passed out from crying so much on the couch, so I carried her to sleep in my room. You need to get over yourself if you're going to even have a chance at fixing the mess you made." Quinn admits.

Luke knows he is right. Quinn might've been the more quiet and reserved one out of the three brothers, but when he was mad or driven about something, people listened because he wasn't bullshitting in any way.

Luke decided to keep his mouth shut and put his good hand on his hip.

"So what do I do? Where do I start?" he asks, and Quinn shuts the fridge to turn to his brother.

"You need to apologize. Really apologize, hear her out, and be fucking honest." Quinn instructs. "You want a chance at being with the one girl I know you're just as obsessed with as she is with you, then you need to lay every fucking thing out. Don't bullshit any of it, Luke." Quinn explains, letting his little brother take in his words.

"But for now, you need to let her sleep. She looked so exhausted. Let her sleep and take her time. Don't immediately jump her throat when she so much as walks out here." He finishes before disappearing from the kitchen to go outside.

Duke looks at Luke and nods. "I think he's right. He said it better than I could've."

So that's what Luke did.

He left to go golfing with the boys. He left to go out on the boat. He left to go into town for lunch. He gave her space. He didn't want to do what Quinn said would make her feel pressured. He kept his distance.

Throughout that day, he slowly started to realize just how much her presence was meant for their group. Meant for him. He never realized how important she became for him especially with all of his post surgery things. She did keep him in check for good reasons.

He was stressed out every time he forgot to take his meds. Or when he forgot to do his PT exercises. Or when he especially forgot to switch out his ice packs.

She really did make it an easier process for him. Every single thing she was doing wasn't to be a pain in his ass or cling onto him, it was to make it easier on him.

He groans at the thought, knowing he really wished he could've just shut his trap the night before, but of course his pain and soreness and helplessness made him lash out on the one person who made this whole thing so much simpler for him.

The boys all sat around the fire pit later that night, music playing softly while they all sat amongst one another and talked. The sun was nearly gone, crickets and frogs being heard around the lake as well as a few loons.

The talking simmered when the group heard the sliding door slowly opening, they all snapped their heads over to see the familiar girl's face appear.

She looked like she was fresh out of the shower, her hair damp and face free of makeup as she shut the door behind her.

She was wearing a pair of gray sweats and a UMich Hockey sweatshirt, one that looked like it might've been Luke's that she took a while ago.

Her hands were hiding in the big sleeves of the sweater as she walked down to join them, some of the boys letting frowns form on their faces as they see her face still puffy from the night before.

They all snap out of their frowns when her eyes rise up to look at them with the fakest smile Luke had ever seen on her.

"There's my favorite girl." Jack is the first to speak up warmly, wrapping her up in his arms as she went and sat down. All the other boys warmly greeted and cheered when she sat down, Y/N smiling at them as she took a deep breath.

"I made you one," Trevor says as he hands her one of his famous s'mores. She looks over at him.

"How'd you know?" she asks, and he shrugs with a wink.

"I told you, I've got that twin telepathy." Trevor jokes in a cocky tone, earning an amused look from the girl before she thanks him and blows him a kiss.

"See? Y'all see that? I got a kiss before you guys!" he sings out, making all the guys groan and swat at him as he does a funny little dance.

"I take it back." Y/N says, earning an awestruck Trevor.

"No take-backsies!" he pouts before going to sit back in his spot.

Her eyes never met Luke's, the boy silently begging for her to look at him just once. She never did.

The group all kept on their conversations, trying to distract from the obvious tension going on as they all didn't want to make Y/N anymore uncomfy than she probably felt.

Luke tried hard not to get jealous or annoyed at Jack or Trevor when they would be close to Y/N, as he knew they were only doing it to make her smile and feel better. He just couldn't help but feel that way as he wished it was him making her that way.

But he was the reason she wasn't smiling. Why her face was puffy. So he deserved that at payback. He deserved way worse to be honest.

As the night began to near its end, each boys lowly trailed their ways inside, Y/N and Luke being the last two to be sitting near the fire. Y/N wanted to enjoy the night, as bonfires were something that made her feel anchored and helped her decompress.

Luke kept his distance, only staying on the left side of her across the fire. His eyes hadn't really left her figure the entire night.

At that moment he decided he couldn't wait any longer. The suspense was killing him slowly. So he cleared his throat, watching as she didn't move a muscle.

"Um," he squeaks out. "You-you can take my bed tonight. If you want. I-I know you usually can't sleep without a fan, a-and that you prefer my bed because it helps elevate your back." he stutters out quietly.

Y/N keeps her gaze on the fire, and just nods. Luke feels his chest tighten.

He clears his throat once again.

"I-I um," he starts once more. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry-"

Y/N stands up before he can finish, soon walking away from the fire.

He watches her walk away in silence, watching as she disappears back inside the house. Luke lets out a shaky sigh, before standing up himself and using the pot of water next to the pit to put out the fire before soon making his way back up to the house himself.

When he reaches his room, he prays that she took his offer, the boy wanting to use the excuse of grabbing pajamas in case she was in there.

His bed was empty.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day came by quicker than expected, and Luke was feeling at a loss.

Y/N had been ignoring him all day.

He had gotten up before the sun, went and picked up her favorite flowers, coffee and protein iced tea she loves, as well as her favorite bagel spot. He had even drove across town to get her the coffee grounds from a cafe that donates used coffee grounds to use for gardening, as he knows she loves using them when she does her planting at the lakehouse for Ellen and herself.

When she had come down that morning to get herself some breakfast, her face had contorted into all kinds of reactions.

Shock, awe, happiness, confusion, sadness and then nothing. It turned into nothing when she saw Luke creep in and giving her a look of hope.

She didn't acknowledge him once, but he knew he had gotten to her as she did indulge in the breakfast, coffee and iced tea he got her.

That was when Luke knew he had a chance to get her back.

Until the rest of the day had gone on.

She so much as did not look his way, acknowledge anything that had to do with him. She acted as if he didn't exist. Luke didn't know what to do. He couldn't talk to her as she wouldn't even try and be near him.

She either stuck to Jack or Cole's side for the day.

The evening was far from over too, and Luke was just ready to go to bed in that moment.

Especially now.

They were currently out at one of the dive bar clubs in the area, the music was loud and the place was packed.

Which also meant that Y/N was drunker than a sailor on a pirate ship.

She had been dancing and singing loudly to any and all of the songs, having any of the boys come dance with her as time went on. Luke stayed in his spot at the bar by Quinn, who looked very amused by her actions as she was spun around by Trevor.

"Have you gotten to talk to her yet?" Quinn says over the loud music.

Luke shook his head with a pout. "She's acting as if I don't exist."

Quinn uses his lips. "Do you blame her? You broke her heart. Especially after you said you'd never do that."

Luke huffs. "Yeah I know."

"Keep trying. That's all I'll say. You still have a shot. I know deep down she wants you to keep fighting."

"I'm trying. But she makes it so hard."

"She's worth it though?" Quinn trails off, and Luke thinks for a second. He then nods.

"Yeah. Yeah she is."

Trevor then runs up to them, drunkenly stumbling around as he reaches them. "Y/N disappeared outside. I think she's throwing up. I would go get her, but I'm not too far behind her." he says before disappearing back into the crowd.

Luke looks over at Quinn before he makes his way outside, eyes scanning for the familiar figure and spots her over at the corner by the bushes and hunched over.

He scurries over to her, using his good arm to caress her back as she throws up. He then takes her hair as best as he can with the one hand, and holds it back.

When she finishes dry heaving she turns and does a double take when she sees it's Luke.

She stumbles a little as she tries to push him away. "No, I don't want you." she slurs, dry heaving once more.

"Y/N stop focus on getting this out of your system right now. Quinn is coming with water." he says, and she shakes her head trying to get away from his grasp.

She forget that he still has a hold on her hair, and he gently pulls on it to keep her in her place. "You can hate me the most tomorrow, but I'm not letting you pass out after dry heaving for ten minutes. So it's me or the concrete."

"I choose the concrete."

"Y/N"

She drunkenly giggles at her comment, only to be stopped as she starts throwing up again. Luke keeps her hair back, his eyes looking back to see Quinn coming up with the bottled water.

He hands it to his younger brother. "I'm going to grab the boys and the car. I'll be back." he says before jogging back inside.

Once Y/N finishes her second round, she tries to stand straight but wobbles in the process. Luke is quick to catch her, only almost failing as his sling holds his bad arm back from fully being able to stabilize her.

He makes a dumb decision, but in that moment he was more focused on her.

He takes off his sling and lets it fall to the ground, Y/N watching the action and pout when she sees his sling fall to the ground. She points at it. "Your sling. You shouldn't be taking that off." she slurs out with a hiccup.

He shakes his head. "Not my concern right now, I'm more focused on keeping you upright. I don't need you passing out on me again." he tries to lighten the mood, only getting a scowl from her.

"Okay tough crowd." he mumbles, looking behind them to see any sign of Quinn.

"I'm serious-" she hiccups "put it back on. You can't have that off." she hiccups again as she bends down to try and get it.

"Y/N dammit leave it. I'll deal with my dumb decisions tomorrow."

"Like you other decision you made two days ago?"

His heart sinks at her words, seeing her eyes become big as she looks up at him. "Y/N look," he starts. "I'd love to have this conversation, and tell you how much I regret saying those things to you, but I want you sober for that. I'm not going to take advantage when you are probably seeing two of me."

"Hey! How'd you know that? Do you have my vision or something?" she whines, and he rolls his eyes trying to not laugh at her.

Before he knows it, Quinn is pulling around the corner to meet them. Luke brings her up to his car when he parks it, Quinn rushing up to grab her and he frowns at Luke as he looks down at his empty shoulder.

"Dude what are you doing? Put that back on!"

"I will, chill alright? I was more focused on trying to make sure she didn't fall face first onto the pavement." he says as he goes to grab the sling and carefully put it back on, trying to ignore the burning pain going up and down his collarbone.

It was a quiet ride home, as most of the drunk ones were already sleeping, the others just tired from the day they've had.

Once they were pulled into the driveway, Quinn hops out and goes to grab Y/N while Jack and Cole who are both not super drunk but are definitely past being buzzed, grab Trevor.

"Put her in my bed. I'm sleeping on the couch." Luke says to Quinn when they get inside. Instead of arguing, he nods and brings her up the stairs.

Luke follows behind, needing to go and grab some pajamas and his painkillers for the night. Once Quinn has set her in bed, Luke goes to turn on the fan for her watching as she snuggles closer into his sheets.

"She loves you still, you know." Quinn says softly, making Luke turn towards his eldest brother.

Luke gives him a pursed smile and nods, getting the same action back from Quinn before he leaves.

The blond boy slowly, and painfully, changes into a pair of sweats before going over to his bed to grab his pillow only to freeze when he sees Y/N's eyes looking up at him.

"You okay?" he asks.

"You hate when I ask you that, so don't ask me that." she snaps, her words still slurring.

He nods slowly. "I deserve that."

"You deserve a lot worse."

"Yes I do."

She stares at him, her eyes squinting at him as she watches him slowly try to take off his sling for bed. She doesn't miss the way his face winces at the pain he is definitely feeling after what he did.

"Where are you going?" she asks as she watches him head for his door. He points at it. "Downstairs. I'm going to go and sleep downstairs. Give you your space."

"Stay." she says, making him frown.

"Please." she slurs out softly, watching him fight with his mind. She watches as he slowly walks back over and cautiously gets into his side of the bed just incase she changes her mind.

"Just keep your distance." she says quickly and he nods.

"I know."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning Luke was hurting like a bitch.

He tried his best to not wince and hiss when he woke up, not wanting to awaken the girl next to him.

When he finally got out of bed and down he stairs, he saw Quinn and Jack both in the kitchen talking. Jack was sitting on one of the barstools while Quinn was putting together breakfast.

They both looked over when they heard him coming in, seeing him hold his sling out signaling he needed help putting it on.

"That was a dumb move you made." Quinn says, and Luke rolls his eyes.

"Yeah well I was more concerned for her than I was about my arm. I'll live." he shoots back, thanking Jack as he finishes adjusting it for Luke.

"What happened?" Jack asks.

"Y/N was at her throwing up point where she can't end to pass out from dry heaving too much," Luke says before pouring himself a cup of coffee. "So I took my sling off and kept her upright instead of letting her faceplate straight into the concrete."

Jack hums. "You're a dumbass," he starts. Luke chuckles dryly as he goes to sit down next to Jack. "But proud of you." he says before taking a bite of his waffles and standing up, patting the boy on his back.

"I'm off. I'm meeting Sammy for a farmer's market run this morning. So I'll be back around one." he says, putting his place in the sink and then heading towards the front door.

Quinn nods. "I'll be leaving shortly too. Trev and Cole are still sleeping. I think Duker and I are gonna go take up some ice time for a bit." he says, and Luke nods.

Y/N soon comes strolling in, still in her dress from the night before and her hair in a bun as she is squinting her eyes.

She goes to grab a cup of coffee, Quinn handing her a plate of food as she stand over by him at the island. "How you feeling champ?" he giggles, and she huffs.

"Not great. But not dying. I more so just have a headache right now. I think I got most of it out of my system last night." she explains with a dry laugh, taking a sip of her coffee.

Quinn laughs, before finishing up his breakfast. He goes over and kisses her head. "Don't kill him today, yeah?" is all he says, making her give him a look before he disappears.

Y/N just stands there, tracing the ring around her cup with her finger as they sat in silence.

Luke was the first to speak.

"There's um," he clears his throat. "There's some liquid IV in the cabinet. It's the berry one." he says, pointing to the cupboard.

She stands there quietly, taking a sip of her coffee and nodding.

Luke sighs. "Can I say more? Or are you going to leave before I can finish?" he asks genuinely.

"I'm debating." she answers back, not meeting his eyes as he keeps his own her figure.

"Well I'l just talk, and if you've had enough then you can walk away. Yeah?"

She says nothing, which then has him proceed.

"I fucked up," he sighs. "I really fucked up. I know that. I honestly wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to talk to me again."

"Again. Debating."

"And that's okay," he says, not wanting to say how much it would hurt him if she chose that. "I really should not make any excuses for what I said. I've just been in so much pain, and at such a breaking point with all of this. I took it out on you when I should not be doing that."

She takes a sip of her coffee, soon taking a bit of her food. He takes that as a sign that she isn't ready to leave just yet.

"I didn't realize how much you were doing until you weren't there. You know what I also realized?"

For the first time, she looks at him.

"I realized all you were trying to do was make this whole healing process easier on me. Not pester me. Or overwhelm me. Or annoy me. It was simply to make sure I was on the right path towards a faster paced healing process to get back on my feet."

"That's all I was trying to do, and have been trying to do Luke. Because I know how you get. You proved my point when you blew up at me like that." she answers in a monotoned voice. Luke nods.

"I know that now. And I'm so grateful for that and for you. Especially after having that realization," he says. "I hated hearing how you haven't slept, and how you have put me first. If anything don't do that again. For my sake. As much as I love you for that, I need you do make sure Y/N is healthy first."

Y/N ears perk up, and she looks at him with a frown. "What did you just say?" she says softly.

Luke furrows his brows. "I need you to put yourself first. Your health."

"You said you love me."

Luke's eyes widen, and his heart freezes. He did not even realize he let that come out.

He clears his throat and he feels his ears heat up, seeing her face change slightly. "I um," he squeaks. "Yeah. Yeah I do love you. I think I always have, but after realizing all of this I think it made me realize I loved you more." he admits, his voice shaky as he looks at her.

"Luke."

"I'm serious, Y/N." he says. "I know you hate love bombing, but honestly that slipped out. And I am just going to own it because it's nothing but the damn truth."

Y/N just stands there in disbelief. Luke continues. "I want you to know that I truly and deeply am sorry for saying all of those things. You're not clingy. You're not annoying or a burden or any sort of negative impact on my life." he says, slowly getting closer to her. "If anything I do need you. And I want you as mine and mine only. I don't want any of those stupid guys from last summer to be the type of dates you have this year. I want us to figure our shit out, and I want to give you the proper dates you deserve."

Y/N looks up at Luke. "You've got a lot of making up to do, Hughes. A lot."

Luke takes a deep breath. "I know. I know I do."

"You broke my heart."

"I know."

"You called me things."

"I did, and I'm sorry for that."

"Yet I love you too."

His eyes could've popped out of his head. "W-What?" he cracks out, and she give him a small smile.

Before he knew what was happening, she flicks his forehead hard and then smacks his cheek. "Ouch, hey!" he says in awe, and she points at him.

"You deserve that," she says. "But I got those out of the way so I could finish with this."

She lightly grabs his jaw and places a chaste kiss on his lips. He groans when she pulls away far too short for his liking.

"No. No more. Because you have a lot of shit to fix first."

"Roger that."

"I love you."

"I love you too, and I will spend the rest of my life proving it."

923 notes · View notes

gabbytvclarke · 6 months ago

Text

The dog and the postwoman

Part two here! ♥ Part three here! ♥ Part four here! ♥ Part five here!

• Pairing: Arthur TV x female!reader (Also friend!Bambino Becky and friend!George Clarke) • Summary: Y/n is a newish YouTuber who gets invited to join a ChrisMD pub golf video, alongside her newfound crush. The pair are subtly teased throughout by the other members, who ship them. • Slow burn fluff, strangers to friends to… something more? Lots of flirting, exchanged glances, light touches, almost-kisses. • Warnings: alcohol, swearing, innuendoes, mentions of vomit (not graphic at all) • Word count: 9,537 words

♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥

Commenter 1: omg did you see the way Arthur looked at y/n????? ↳ Commenter 2: Fr fr he was smitten

Commenter 3: get y/n and Arthur in a team next time Chris

Commenter 4: y/nTV is going to happen I’m calling it now!!!!!!

Just a few comments flooding in ChrisMD’s latest video, this one with yt/n’s pub golf debut:

Y/n was quite new to the content creator scene. She created a few vlogs and reaction videos here and there with little to no views, despite her efforts and good content. Her TikToks were the same. Until one day one YouTube video exploded, her subscriber count grew, alongside TikTok followers. All of a sudden one George Clarke would comment on one of her TikToks, and she slowly became good friends with him. Their friendship became more well known after guest starring on the Useless Hotline podcast. Following that, she collaborated with BambinoBecky on her own channel.

Through George and Max, y/n met ChrisMD and Arthur Hill, and that’s how she wound up on one of Chris’s pub golf videos.

There was no particular theme to this pub golf video, until the costumes came out of course. With Calfreezy as the usual referee, dressed in usual ref attire, the pairs and costumes were as follows:

Arthur TV and Chip in dog onesies, AKA ‘Bone Appetite’

ChrisMD and George in pickle costumes, AKA ‘Team Gherkings’

Y/n and Becky dressed as post-women, AKA ‘The Fe-mails’

This is y/n’s first time meeting Arthur, Cal, and Chip, but she was quite nervous about meeting the Arthur TV after he’d been so hyped up by George and Arthur Hill.

With Arthur turning up later (as usual) they didn’t get a chance to properly meet each other, aside from quick ‘hellos’ and name introductions before the filming began. If she was honest, y/n was always intrigued by Arthur, both from his content and the anecdotes she’d heard from George, Chris, and Arthur Hill. What she didn’t know was that Arthur was also very interested in meeting her, loving her content after being shown it by George and Chris on separate occasions. “You’d love her” they’d say.

When y/n and Becky pose for their team introduction in the video, y/n feels a little shy with the eyes and cameras on her in the open public, but she mentally prepared for this beforehand and perseveres. Becky has her arms folded, whereas y/n is holding some prop envelopes up whilst smiling at the camera. “That’s perfect!” Chris giggles. Stepping out of shot ready for Cal’s referee posing, y/n locks eyes with Arthur after feeling him looking, and almost immediately, Arthur diverts his gaze, embarrassed.

Chip and Arthur step in frame for their clip, Arthur’s eyes kept finding their way to y/n, which she swears she can see in the corner of her view while she chats with Becky. Y/n and Becky then turn to watch the boys, and y/n meets Arthur’s gaze again and this time, she gives him a small smile before he can look away. His eyebrows slightly raise for a brief moment before he grins back, his sweet eyes squinting. “Ready mate?” Chip suddenly asks him, snapping Arthur out of his short daze. They pose, Arthur softly smiling to the camera whilst Chip pants with his hands up T-Rex style, making Arthur laugh and shake his head. All of this gets caught in their slow-mo introduction footage, making it both charming and funny.

Arthur looks to y/n again, still chuckling, and was delighted to see that she too was laughing at Chip’s antics. ‘Good to know we have a similar sense of humour’, he thinks to himself.

“He fancies you I recon,” Becky whispers to y/n, giving her a smirk and a slight elbow nudge. Y/n turns to Becky, eyes widening.

“What- Who?” she replies. Although she knows who Becky meant, she is just baffled to hear it. Before Becky could repeat herself, Arthur and Chip join them, as George and Chris step up for their shot. Arthur steps next to y/n. Y/n scoffs at the ‘Gherkings’ as they both flex at the camera, finding their pose choice amusing despite their outfits. “Those divvies,” Arthur chuckles, adding to y/n’s amusement as he leans more towards her. She giggles and adds “Should’ve called themselves prick-les,” her comment eliciting a hearty laugh from Arthur. His elbow brushes against her upper arm as he leans back, catching her off guard as she realises how close they’re standing.

She feels her heart race as she smiles to the ground awkwardly, Arthur also looks down and takes a small step back, feeling his cheeks burn. Becky gives y/n another small nudge with her elbow as she lowly lets out an “Oi oi.”

“Guys,” Chris calls out, catching everyone’s attention, “we just have to do the one-to-one questions and then we’re ready to start!”

Chris is up first as the cameraman asks how drunk he’ll get. He gives his usual answer of saying he’ll be plastered. George is next, then Chip, then Arthur.

“Well, if we’re talking dog years, I’ll be drunk seven times sooner. Or later?” Arthur answers, giving a cheeky chuckle at the camera. Y/n overhears and smiles at his cute joke. She already thought he was cute in his videos, but seeing his behaviour in person just solidifies it.

Becky’s up next, saying she’ll smash it and proudly states that she’s a girl who can handle her drink. Y/n, not so much, realising what she’s got herself into as she steps up into shot. “How do you think you’ll fare today?” the cameraman asks.

“I’m a lightweight,” she starts, “but I’ll promise to deliver-“ then awkwardly laughs at her lame joke, hiding her face behind her prop envelope and shaking her head with embarrassment.

“Oh y/n!” Becky shouts, laughing herself, “And this is you sober, we’re screwed!” Y/n joins her teammate, whispering an awkward apology for what she just witnessed. Arthur on the other hand, finds her joke adorable. Becky puts an arm round her, about to say some reassurance before Chris calls to the group.

“Right, that’s all done,” he shouts, clasping his hands together, looking to the camera that just filmed their mini interviews, “let’s all head to the first pub.” The rest of the crew all grab their cameras and start recording as the group starts walking.

The pairs talk amongst themselves for a bit, mostly small talk while the camera crew get shots of them walking. Chris talks to one camera with George up ahead, leaving the Fe-Mails and Bone Appetite to gather together behind.

“So y/n,” Chip starts, “is this your first pub golf video?”

“Yeah it is,” y/n replies smiling, “this is my first collab out in the public too, and with this many people.” Chip and Arthur both nod. The camera man puts the camera on them, catching the conversation that follows.

“She’s a lightweight as well,” Becky chimes in, eliciting an ‘uh-oh’ from Chip. “She got tipsy on our video together and she barely drank!” Becky continues as the others chuckle.

“I remember seeing that!” Arthur adds with enthusiasm, looking to y/n as he walks his way closer to her. “I’m sorry but you’re not surviving today!”

The cameraman moves to Cal, who’s walking at the back to make sure no one falls over already or insults the crew, either action earning them a shot or a point for their team.

Knowing she’s off camera, Becky gently clasps her hand over the mic attached to her shirt collar and leans to y/n’s ear. “He definitely fancies you, Arthur does. I can tell,” she whispers with a grin. Y/n just shakes her head with a shy smile.

Chip and Arthur look behind to the girls whispering, then to each other, shrugging with confused smiles. They walk slightly further ahead and Chip looks over his shoulder at them. “The chemistry is mad already bro,” he quietly says to Arthur. Arthur looks at him and furrows his eyes in confusion.

“Those two?” he questions, leaning his head towards Chip to hear him better.

“No bro, you and y/n. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it.” He clarifies, giving Arthur a tap on his shoulder.

Before Arthur can attempt to protest, they reach the first pub. Taking seats outside, the teams sit opposite each other and Cal grabs himself a seat at the end of the table. On one side of the table is George, Arthur, and Becky; the other side dons Chris, Chip, and y/n. Y/n and Arthur are both silently thankful to not be sat together at first, as neither creator wants the other to feel any rising heat, especially after the conversations they both just had. Unfortunately for both of them, they realise they are right in each other’s line of sight, and the cameras might pick up on any awkward exchanged glances.

The pints are brought to the table by a couple of crew members, with one pint placed in front of each participant. “Right, the rules for the first game are simple,” Cal bellows to the camera facing him, “Each player must down as much of their pint as possible within 10 seconds. The pair with the most beer drank gets 1 point, the next team gets two points, and the slowest drinkers earn 3 points.” The cameramen capture shots of the creators listening to the rules and close-up shots of the beers. Cal continues: “If a player spills any drink, fall over, or pukes, they earn either an additional point or can instead take a shot as a forfeit.”

The girls go first, Becky downing her drink almost perfectly. She leaves a little foam at the bottom, and Chip and Arthur try arguing that the drink is incomplete, but Cal allows it to count as an empty drink. Y/n wraps her hand around her glass, looking to Becky as she says “I’m so sorry,” with a sheepish smile before gulping as much as she can, leaving the pint glass with about a third of beer left when her 10 seconds are up. She sets her glass down and wipes her lips, frowning and shaking her head at the bitter flavour.

“We’ve got this in the bag bro!” Arthur chuckles as he smirks to Chip, giving him a hi-five.

“Yeah, you’re shit y/n!” Chip joins in, causing the table to laugh at his sudden unnecessary comment.

“Woah, manners Chip!” George retorts.

“Rude!” Becky shouts, feigning an offended face to Chip.

“No offence y/n!” Arthur adds with a cheeky grin, locking eyes with her. She secretly adores hearing him say her name.

“None taken Arthur,” she returns with a big smile, Arthur feeling his face burn, also loving the way his name rolls off her tongue.

The dogs are next up to play. Arthur goes first, using his two handed grip and only just downing the pint in one within the time limit, leaving no foam behind. Chip hi-fives him again, shouting “Yes brother!” Arthur proudly beams, looking down at his lap before his eyes quickly dart up to y/n, seeing she’s smiling whilst still looking at his completely empty pint glass. “Here we go, bone appetite!” Chip declares as he downs his drink, leaving just a small amount at the bottom of the glass.

“Well we’ve lost then!” Becky laughs, faking anger and slamming her hands in the table. Y/n is about to protest before realising George’s turn is next and he’s a drinking machine. George confidently grasps his drink. “Ah we’re cooked!” Chip murmurs to Arthur. George effortlessly gulps his drink down with 3 seconds to spare, cockily exhaling as he slams his glass down.

Chris is up next, gesturing a cheers towards George before downing his pint. “Look at the way he grips that thaing!” Arthur calls out in a slight accent, causing Chris to jerk his head forward to giggle and spill a couple of drops of beer onto the table. “Oh! Spillage!” Arthur shouts gleefully as he points at the new stains. Cal looks to Chris with his mouth open and the camera zooms in on the table. Chip and y/n are laughing as Becky shouts “Waaay!”. Both Chris and George argue with Cal that it’s unfair for them to get penalised as Arthur made him laugh. Cal coldly looks to them both and states “Spill’s a spill Chris, do you want to take a shot or a pint.”

Chris rolls his eyes and asks for a shot. Amongst the spilling drama, Chris didn’t finish his pint, leaving it half empty and starting off the scores as:

Bone Appetite: 1 point

The Fe-Mails: 2 points

Gherkings: 3 points

As the group head off to the next pub, Arthur jogs his way up to y/n. “I’m sorry for my comment before,” he starts, smiling at the floor sheepishly, “when you finished your drink.”

“Oh that’s okay, I didn’t take offence to either of you, don’t worry!” Y/n replies, giggling quietly at his sweet apology.

“OK, good!” Arthur chuckles, feeling relieved, “I have a habit of dishing out insults when I…” he stops himself for a second, “get to know someone.” he ends, thinking on his feet.

Y/n shrugs, trying to look nonchalant, “I enjoy the banter, I’m the same.” She replies.

Arthur beams as he looks to his crush. “I see, what else do you enjoy?” They start exchanging interests, followed by facts about science, animals, anything really as they continue leading the group towards their next destination.

Behind them, Chip and Becky walk with George. “Bro’s in love” Chip says as he gestures ahead, a little too loud, but the pair at the front are in their own world and don’t hear. Becky and George agree, giggling. “I think she feels the same way,” Becky replies with a genuine smile.

Behind the trio, Cal and Chris are being filmed from behind while they talk, the angle capturing all the players in one frame.

Chip jogs forward to join Arthur and y/n. “What are you two nerds yappin’ about?” he asks them as he wraps an arm round Arthur’s shoulder.

“Nerds?!” Arthur fake cries.

Simultaneously, y/n replies with “Space,” with a grin. A crew member joins to record them, walking backwards ahead of them, capturing the three in frame.

“Nice. Y/n, you feelin’ lightheaded yet?” Chip directs towards her, leaning forwards to look past Arthur. Arthur turns his head to her too, intrigued.

“Honestly, a little,” y/n replies.

“REALLY?” Arthur exclaims. His eyes widely looking down at her, his lips curled up a little. “Goodness, you really are a lightweight!”

Y/n laughs, “Yeah, it’s bad isn’t it. I feel bad for Becky really!”

“‘Least we’re guaranteed second place ey bro?” Chip says, tightening his grip round Arthur’s shoulder.

“You’re not wrong there!” Arthur chuckles

“You boys are mean!” Y/n retorts playfully.

The group reaches the second pub. Outside there are only tables of four. Y/n and Becky sit opposite each other first. Arthur and Chip join them. This time, Arthur bravely sits beside y/n, their arms touching. Y/n looks at their arms, observing the closeness. She begins feeling wary of the cameras and doesn’t want to come across as having a schoolgirl crush (which wouldn’t be wrong). As the others take their seats and chat, Arthur notices y/n’s slight change in demeanour and bumps her gently with his arm. “You okay?” he whispers as he leans his face towards hers, hoping his quiet words reach her ear and no one else’s.

She thinks fast, “I’m all good thanks, just dreading what we’ll be put through next,” she awkwardly giggles, turning her head to look at him only to almost brush noses. She didn’t initially realise how close his face was when he whispered just before. They both go wide eyed and lean away from each other, Arthur clearing his throat and sheepishly apologising, looking to his lap with a small smile. “You’re all good” y/n quietly giggles in response, looking down too, to avoid any risk of someone seeing her definitely reddening cheeks.

“So, in this round, each team member has to feed the drink to their teammate.” The pairs glare at each other, y/n and Becky giving each other a nod. Cal continues: “One player must stand with their hands on their hips, as their teammate stands behind them, with their arms through the player’s arms,” he manhandles Chris for demonstration. Turning Chris around and forcing his hands on his hips, Cal then loops his hands through as if his arms are now Chris’s and mimes holding a drink up to Chris’s lips. This earns nods amongst the other players, followed by ‘oh’s. “They then switch,” Cal explains further, “And the team with the lowest collective time it takes to finish their drinks, gains the least amount of points.”

George and Chris go first. “Here we go, turn around darling” George smirks to Chris as he spins him by his hips. Chris giggles high pitched, flapping his arms in a fake shy manner, causing the others to laugh. They do a terrible job, Chris keeps pulling his head away from the pint glass to tell George off for pouring too fast. “Shut up and take it!” George kept replying, giving the female viewers more treats with his choice of wording. It takes them just under a minute for Chris to finish his drink.

They switch, George offering Chris a hand. When Chris looks to him confused, George says: “I thought you’d want help climbing onto the bench so you can reach around me properly.” The group chuckle, including Chris as he rolls his eyes. They do better this way around, but mostly due to George’s drinking skills.

The other teams watch on from their table. Arthur leaning past y/n slightly so he can get a good view. She can feel his breath slightly fanning on the back of her ear, but team Gherking’s entertaining performance is distracting enough for her to not get too flustered. Chip gives Becky a subtle “Oop” and when she turns back to look at him, he gestures his head towards y/n and Arthur. From their angle, the pair are sat so close. Arthur’s elbow is resting on the table, his hand sat next to y/n’s side. His upper body is twisted toward her, his chest slightly pressed to her right shoulder. Any public onlookers would assume they’re a couple. Becky looks back to Chip and rolls her eyes with a beaming smile. Their chemistry already was undeniable, although a bit of liquid confidence may be part of the reason.

Arthur and Chip are next, stepping into shot. Chip stands behind Arthur as Cal passes a pint to him. “Uh Chip, what’s that in your pocket?” Arthur jokingly asks.

“You don’t wanna know bro” Chip replies. They do a fantastic job, Chip very gently tilting the pint more and more as Arthur gulps. Already he drinks the pint twice as fast as George and Chris’s first go. They switch places.

“What’s that massive thing poking my ass?” Chip shouts, turning to y/n and giving her a subtle wink with a smirk, being careful to not get caught by any of the cameras.

“Oh my word!” Arthur calls out in shock, followed by a chuckle as he shakes his head. Y/n laughs as she leans her head down into her arms resting on the table. She’s terrified of the cameras picking up any possible redness in her face. The pair do a great job again, their tactic was slow and steady after watching George rush Chris. They did miles better.

It’s the girls’ turn, Becky taking position behind y/n first. “Give us a hum or something if I’m pouring too fast hun,” Becky instructs in her ear. Y/n nods with a determined grin. Arthur looks on at y/n’s physique, as he hadn’t been able to look before. She carries herself confidently yet she’s humble, something he finds so attractive. The pair do an amazing job and then switch places. “Y/n your ass is very soft and squishy!” Becky exclaims, patting her on the back for finishing the pint quite fast.

“This old thing?” Y/n jokingly replies, looking back to Becky and sticks her butt out slightly towards her. The drinks may be going to her head already. They both laugh as y/n giggles out an apology as Becky shakes her head. “Oh my…” Arthur quietly says to himself as he turns to Chip, being sure not to allow himself to stare, instead he locks eyes with his smirking teammate.

Y/n stands behind Becky and takes the pint from Cal. Y/n leans forward, her head just above Becky’s shoulder so she can watch Becky’s face and pour based on her expression. “Looks like she’s pouring based on Becky’s swallows, good tactic!” Cal calls out. Arthur watches on, taking into account y/n’s care to Becky. Chip leans over the table. “She’s clever and caring bro, wife her up!” Chip whispers. Arthur exhales a laugh through his nose at Chips words, he slightly shakes his head but doesn’t take his eyes off y/n.

The Fe-Mails finish the fastest, against all odds. Chris blames George for pouring too fast and George retorts by saying Chris whined too much. The scores now as follows:

Bone Apetit: 3 points

The Fe-Mails: 3 points

Gherkings: 6 points

The next pub isn’t too far away, about a four minute walk. Chris runs up ahead of George, Arthur, and Chip to reach y/n who is walking alongside Becky and Cal. “So y/n, how are you finding pub golf so far?” he asks, with a camerman walking alongside them.

“I’m really enjoying it so far thanks,“ she starts, “it’s been really fun and everyone’s so nice.”

“Oh yeah, you haven’t met some of the guys before. Cal, Arthur, and Chip right? Alongside the crew?” Chris replies.

“Oop, Chris just said your name” Chip teases Arthur quietly. Arthur looks up ahead of him to see Chris and y/n talking in front of a camera while walking. “You two are really getting on aren’t you, you and y/n?” he adds, patting Arthur on the back.

“Yeah, she’s really nice,” he smiles as he whispers, “She’s just like she is in her videos, not that I thought she wouldn’t be or anything.”

“Yeah, I’d been watching her stuff for a while and before even meeting her, I thought that you guys should meet,” George chimes in, joining Arthur’s other side. “You’re both awkward and nerdy and funny, two peas in a pod really.”

“Really?” Arthur enquires, quite loud, and the boys shush him as y/n and Chris are only a couple of metres ahead and could’ve heard.

They arrive at the third pub already, but there were no seats outside available, so they all squeeze into a round booth inside, with Cal in the middle. From left to right is Becky, Chris, Chip, Cal, George, Arthur, and y/n.

A tray full of shots gets placed on the round table. Cal explains to the camera that this round is an alphabet game where starting with Arthur, they’ll take turns clockwise naming something within a category, from A-Z. Whoever hesitates or says a word starting with the wrong letter, they need to drink a shot. A shot in this game earns a point for the team. The first round is dog breeds, matching Chip and Arthur’s costumes. It goes as follows:

Arthur: “Alsatian”

Y/n: “Bulldog”

Becky: “Chihuahua”

Chris: “Uhh… Dalmatian!”

Chip: “Errr…”

“Hesitation!” Chris and Cal both shout. Chip puts his head in his hands and groans. He picks up a shot and shouts “I can’t think of any dogs starti’ with E!”

“English bull terrier!” Arthur calls, gesturing fake-angrily, “It’s OUR theme!”

“Aw man!” Chip replies as he downs his shot. Arthur chuckles, turning to look at y/n who’s also enjoying the antics. Arthur doesn’t notice at first, but his leg is pressed against y/n’s, mostly due to George manspreading.

George turns to Arthur, “That’s handy, I couldn’t think of a dog beginning with F either,” he chuckled, shrugging.

“A Frenchie?” Y/n replied, leaning forward past Arthur.

“Yeah, a French bulldog, y/n literally said ‘bulldog’ and basically gave that to you!” Arthur laughs, as he nudges y/n.

Round two is fruit and vegetables, based on team Gherkings. Starting with Chip, the game begins:

Chip: “Avocado! Yes!”

George: “B…Banana”

Arthur: “Cantaloupe”

Y/n: “Dragon fr-“

“Brother that’s an animal!” Chip interrupts, pointing at Arthur.

“Cantaloupe?” George asks with both surprise and a smirk as the group laughs.

“You’re thinking of an antelope!” Arthur calls back.

“You’re on the same team!” Chris chortles.

“Y/n, hesitation!” Cal exclaims.

Y/n’s jaw drops, Arthur looks to her in surprise.

“That’s not fair!” Y/n retorts.

“Yeah, she started talking but Chip interrupted” Becky adds.

“To be fair, she said ‘dragon fruit’, I heard her.” Arthur claims, matter of factly as he leans back and puts a hand on y/n’s shoulder, giving it a pat.

“I didn’t hear her, did anyone else hear her besides Arthur?” Cal asks the group.

“I didn’t.” George answers, smugly, shooting a grin towards y/n.

“I did!” Becky adds.

“Well that’s bollocks,” Chris states as he crosses his arms, “if George didn’t hear it, you’re not gonna hear it from all the way over there!”

“George is lying!” “Because George is lying” y/n and Arthur exclaim at the same time.

George sarcastically presses a hand to his heart, feigning a hurt expression.

“That settles it, y/n hesitated.” Cal finalises, smacking the table like a judge with a gavel. George picks up a shot and hands it to y/n “Drink up,” he grins. She takes the shot from him as she narrows her eyes at him.

“Fine, but this means war.” she jokingly murmurs before taking the shot, disgusted by the aftertaste.

“Well done,” Arthur says, leaning back to touch her shoulder again, giving it a squeeze as he grins at her.

The third round is items you’d find in a post office. “Chip, as you interrupted y/n last round, you can start.” Cal states.

Chips stutters, “A…analytics, like sheets of analytics and data and stuff!”

“Absolutely not.” Chris says.

“Boxes!” George shouts, not taking any chances.

“I’m sorry, no.” Chris continues.

“Chris, if you continue interrupting and time wasting, you’ll need to take a shot.” Cal states. The game continues:

Arthur: “Calendar”

Y/n: “Desk!”

Becky: “Eeeeenvelopes”

Chris: “Ummm… F…”

“Hesitation!” Cal shouts, slamming the table again as the others join in shouting.

“Uh, fine!” Chris groans as he downs a shot, sticking his tongue out and shaking his head. “Bloody awful.”

“So, each team has one point each?” George questions, “Well that game was fucking pointless then!”

Cal nods, pretending to be deeply disappointed in everyone. “I was worried this would happen,” he starts, “So we have one more round!”

The cameras whip around everyone as ‘ooh’s echo throughout. The final round was for countries. “Chris, you start.”

Chris: “Argentina”

Chip: “Belgium“

George: “China”

Arthur: “Denmark”

Y/n: “England”

Becky: “… France”

Chris: “Germany”

Chip: “Hhhhhungary!”

George (laughing): “Iceland”

Arthur: “Japan”

Y/n: “Um… Kazakhstan”

Becky: “L…ondon!”

“No!” Y/n cries out, belly laughing as she puts her head in her hands. Arthur laughs along with her and pats her on the back.

“I’m sorry, I panicked!” Becky calls out, immediately grabbing a shot and drinking as Cal shouts: “Incorrect!”

“‘London’” Chris quietly says to himself as he chuckles.

“Don’t worry Becks, I thought London too,” Chip leans forward, calling to Becky who had her head on the table.

The scores at the end of this game are:

Bone Appetite: 4

The Fe-Mails: 5

Gherkings: 7

As the group stand up from the booth, the drinks are starting to get to the group’s heads. “Fuckin’ ‘ell!” Becky shouts, wobbling as she carefully steps out of the booth, Chris getting up behind her with his arms outreached ready to catch her if she falls. Y/n gets up and stumbles slightly, catching herself on the table. Arthur smiles and reaches out to her at the same time. “Woah, careful there!” he chuckles.

Heading to the next pub, Chip loses his footing off the curb, his ankle buckling as he drops to the floor. He’s totally fine and just lays there laughing as Becky and Chris immediately head over to help him up, also cackling. “Oop! Was that a fall there Chip?” Cal questions, pointing at the obviously collapsed man on the floor.

“No…” Chip replies as he’s pulled to his feet.

“Do you want a point for the team or a shot at the next pub?” Cal asks.

“Point. No, shot!” Chip shouts.

“I’m sorry but I’m gonna have to go for your first answer,” Cal states, “One extra point to Bone Appetite!” Arthur shakes his head with a small snigger as he walks beside Cal, a camera pointing at them both.

George is walking alongside y/n, at the front of the group. “Having a good time?” He asks. A little tipsy, she giggles.

“I really am, thanks for getting me on here.” She beams. George grins back.

“I’m glad. And I must say, you’ve made an astonishing first impression.” He states.

“Really?”

“Yep, I’ve seen the crew laugh at some of your jokes. Chip thinks you’re proper nice, and don’t get me started on Arthur.” George elaborates.

Y/n looks to George shyly, “What d’you mean?”

“What’s that?” Arthur asks as he darts ahead to join George and y/n, walking on the other side of her.

“Nothing bad Television, I was just telling y/n what a good impression she’s made already today with her pub golf debut.” George calmly explains. Arthur nods, looking to y/n with a sweet smile.

“You really have!” He adds, his beam so wide his eyes close. “You’ll definitely be asked to join again. If not by Chris, which would make him an idiot, but by the viewers.”

Y/n gets bashful. “Aw, thanks!” She replies.

“And I certainly want you to join again,” Arthur continues, looking y/n in the eyes with a genuine smile.

“Yeah, because you’re terrible and give us a good boost.” George adds, sporting a childish smirk before then drifting back to join the others behind them.

“He’s such an idiot sometimes, ignore him.” Arthur whispers, “His team’s losing anyway.”

Reaching the fourth pub, more shots were purchased for the players. They stand around a circular table outside as Cal announces the rules: Each player must down their shot, with their hands behind their back and only using their mouth to lift the glass. Any spills, leftover drink, or using hands earns the player’s team a point.

Chris goes first and accidentally leaves a little drink at the bottom. Chip and Arthur scream for Cal to penalise him while George squeezes his nose bridge in half-joking frustration. Cal gives team Gherkings a point for not finishing the shot. Becky’s next and completes her shot with ease. “Piece of piss!” She gloats while pointing at the camera. Chip’s next and being giggly and tipsy, he giggles mid-drink and spits the glass out. The drink spills everywhere and the shot glass bounces off the table and shatters on the floor. Arthur clasps his hands to his head, “What are you doing?” He exclaims.

“That’s two points for Bone Appetite, not just for spilling but for breaking a glass!” Cal calls. Arthur playfully shakes Chip by the shoulders with gritted teeth. Chip just giggles. Becky pumps a fist in the air and hi-fives y/n, as they both realise they’re in first place now.

George takes his shot just fine, followed by Arthur. Y/n watches Arthur’s lips around the glass, feeling a little flustered as he furrows his eyebrows in concentration. Arthur drinks his shot just fine too. Y/n’s last and also has the giggles, nervous she’ll make the same mistake as Chip. “Calm yourself babes, focus!” Becky cheers on. Y/n clasps her hands behind her lower back and leans forward, gripping the shot glass with her lips. George looks to Arthur, raising his eyebrows and pressing his lips together, luckily both are out of view of the cameras. Arthur clears his throat awkwardly and locks eyes with George. “Oh grow up” Arthur quietly murmurs, rolling his eyes with a playful smile. Although he can’t deny, he’s starting to break a sweat.

Y/n lifts the glass and tilts her head back fine, but Chip then makes a fake orgasm moan which causes her to laugh. Unlike Chip however, she leans forward and the drink lands back in the shot glass, and she places it back on the table with her mouth. “What the hell Chip?” She calls out, chortling as she stood straight again.

“One point to the Fe-Mails!” Cal declares.

With that round over, the scores are:

The Fe-Mails: 6

Bone Appetite: 7

Gherkings: 8

Heads are starting to spin from the last few shots, and it shows in all the players now. Chris in particular is struggling, groaning as he walks along with the group on the way to the penultimate pub. “Chris, if you chunder you get a point for each spew!” Cal calls to him from the back of the group.

“Fuck off, we’re losing anyway!” Chris shouts back.

“Only by one point, you idiot!” George snaps at his suffering teammate. Cal looks to the camera with fake outrage.

“Did he just disrespect the ref?”, the cameraman made the camera nod. He turns back to the group and puts a hand either side of his mouth. “One point to team Gherkings for disrespecting the ref!”

The girls are also struggling, clinging onto each other as y/n’s steps in particular become gradually more wobbled as they waddle alongside George. Arthur chuckles from behind them. “Wow, you really ARE bad at this y/n!” he calls. She’s too busy concentrating on not falling over to fight back with a witty comment and just giggles.

Reaching the fifth pub, they realise there are no chairs available inside or out, so the crew go to the bar to grab the drinks while the players head back out the pub entrance and all stand on the street. Cal hands Becky and y/n a pint each. “Try not to spew this one back in the glass this time y/n!” Arthur sniggers, his liquid courage getting to him. Becky gives him a middle finger and Chip chuckles.

“Don’t start with me Arthur or I’ll spew on you!” Y/n retorts, not her best comeback but she’s beyond tipsy at this point.

“He’d probably like that,” George whispers under his breath, making Chris cackle.

This round is pretty simple, one teammate needs to feed the other as much of a pint as possible within 10 seconds. If any teammate finishes the pint before the 10 seconds, the team gets one point deducted from their score. Becky and y/n go first, Becky doing the pouring for y/n. “Just squeeze my shoulder if you want me to slow down yeah?” Becky explains, “I’ve seen the others do it before.”

Y/n nods, putting her arm around Becky and resting on her shoulder. “I’ve seen it too, good plan.” She replies. Remarkably, y/n manages almost all the pint, following Becky’s suggestion. The boys cheer her as it’s the best performance y/n has done so far. They swap places and Becky puts her arm around y/n. Watching on from the side, chip slaps Arthur’s back. “Bet you’d love to put your arm around y/n like that wouldn’t you?” He whispers. George, standing the other side chimes in, making quiet kissy noises. Arthur presses his hand to his brow bone and giggles to himself. “You guys are too much, seriously.”

“Honestly mate, she seems into you, she’d probably let you.” Chris adds, standing in front of the boys but hearing everything. He turns to look at Arthur, so he can see Chris is being genuine.

“I don’t know her that well, but for the time I’ve known her, she hasn’t radiated this much with anyone as she’s done with you.” George adds, also using a legitimate tone. Patting Arthur on the back.

Y/n tips the glass for Becky, the whole time watching her face and paying close attention to the hand on her shoulder. “Yes Becky” she quietly chants throughout the 10 seconds, but sadly Becky also doesn’t finish the whole pint in time. Next up are Bone Appetite, Chip deeply suffering as he barely downs half the pint before stopping and trying not to vomit. The boys shouting their fair shares of ‘uh oh’s, trying to make Chip feel worse. Chip doubles over and braces himself. Arthur stands beside him, “Seriously, you alright mate?” He asks calmly.

Chris stands beside y/n, a crew member filming them both. “I thought you’d be the first to go y/n,” he chuckles. Looking back over as the onesie wearers are both leaning against the wall. Y/n giggles, watching Arthur be a supportive friend and melting a little internally.

“Same here honestly” she replies, eliciting a laugh from Chris. Arthur and Chip step back into shot. Arthur pats his back lightly as Chip nods, confirming he’s okay to continue.

Chip begins pouring the drink into Arthur’s mouth. Y/n watching on as Arthur confidently gestures up with his spare arm so Chip can pour faster. Arthur remarkably finishes the pint, reducing their team’s point by one. The other players applaud, y/n is impressed, her eyes wide and mouth slightly open. “You’re drooling” George whispers as he leans into her and winks, he and Chris making their way in front of the camera for their turn. Arthur and Chip cross them, Chip heading inside because he needs a ‘massive slash’ and Arthur joining y/n.

Y/n is stood leaning against the wall as Arthur stands beside her, his arm reached out and hand behind her, pressed against the wall. Shuffling her feet as she watches the Gherkings have their turn, she steps back slightly and the back of her neck meets Arthur’s arm. “Oh, sorry,” she awkwardly whispers to him, letting out a small giggle. Arthur tuts with a faint smile.

“Don’t be silly!” He whispers as he moves his lips closer to her ear, reaching his hand round to squeeze her shoulder a little, before returning it back to the wall. He catches her smiling to herself as he returns his gaze back to George and Chris, and he can’t stop himself from beaming either.

George pouring into Chris’s mouth didn’t go well, only managing half the pint. When they swap however, George also manages to finish his pint. They lose a point for their team, the Fe-Mails being the only team whose score stays the same. The scores at the end of this round are:

The Fe-Mails: 6

Bone Apetit: 6

Gherkings: 7

The gang head off to the last pub, wobblier than ever. Chris and Arthur are busy keeping Chip afloat, neither of them holding themselves too well either. George has his arms around Becky and y/n, he himself being the most sober of the players. “Look at George, Arthur, and Chris. Chivalrous as ever.” Cal says to the camera with a grin. They all pile into the pub, situating at a six-seater table. Cal pulls up a stool at the end again. Chris, Arthur, and Chip head down one side of the table and Becky, y/n, and George move down the other. Y/n sits opposite Arthur, but luckily she’s already flushed from the drinks.

“Okay guys, it’s the final game of the night!” Cal begins as the cameras focus on the table. He explains the rules: each team has a cocktail pitcher that they have to pour into their glasses and drink until the pitcher is empty. Fastest drinking team wins.

Bone Appetite go first, Arthur drinking more than Chip, but they manage to finish the pitcher in under a minute. Next is Becky and y/n. Y/n sniffs the pitcher and shudders. “I don’t think I’ll keep this stuff down Becky” she chuckles, embarrassed.

“Aw, you’ll be alright, I can take more drink if you want!” Becky replies, to which y/n nods. The boys look on with excitement, The Fe-Mails essentially one man down, all except Arthur. Despite wearing a smile to fit the others, deep down he can’t help but worry for y/n, not wanting her to spew on camera in her first ChrisMD video appearance. However, Becky sticks to her promise and takes the heavier load and they complete their turn, although slightly slower than Bone Appetite. Y/n pauses for a moment, a clenched fist held to her mouth. The gang stop to watch her, making sure she doesn’t spew but after a few seconds, she composes herself. “Phew, I’m fine!” She smiles. Becky and the boys relax.

Although it doesn’t seem like Chris is holding up too well either, as George drags their pitcher to rest in between them. “Chin up dearest,” George starts, “we got a game to win.”

Chris lets out a low burp into his hand, groaning out an “Oh god” that’s barely audible. Arthur excitedly looks to Chip, then to Becky and y/n, his eyes wide and lips pursed in an ‘ooh’ shape.

They start, but George quickly takes the lead as Chris struggles. As soon as he finishes his glass, Chris makes a dash from the table, leaving George and the rest to watch on in shock. “I won’t give him a point for vomiting just yet.” Cal chuckles. George turns his attention back to the pitcher, well aware that that they’re still against the clock, and pours himself a glass to continue. Remarkably, he finishes the entire pitcher’s worth and catches up to the girls’ time but wasn’t able to beat Chip and Arthur.

With the final game over, George excuses himself to check on his teammate, and the others talk amongst themselves. As Arthur talks with Chip, he gestures his hand a little too fast, knocking a glass of half melted ice over, the cold water spilling across the table, and dripping onto y/n’s lap. “Oh no!” He cries, eyes wide open as he clasps his hands to his mouth in horror. Y/n yelps at the sudden coldness but soon laughs it off.

“Spillage!” Becky shouts, pointing from the table to y/n while staring directly at Cal.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Shit.” Arthur mumbles, “Let me get you some napkins!” He gets up and rushes away.

“Surely that doesn’t count as a spillage, the drink was all drink up- drunk up,” Chip tries reasoning with Cal.

“Nope, still a spill. A drink was spilled Chip!” Cal quips back in an authoritative but jokey tone. “One point to Bone Appetite!”

Arthur reappears at the table, retaking his seat and passing y/n a scrunched up bundle of napkins as she stands up ready to wipe herself.

“Thank you, good boy!” She giggles as she half-drunkenly leans over pats Arthur on the head, then proceeding to dab her trousers. Arthur looks super surprised at first, as Chip and Becky chortle, before breaking out into laughter himself.

“Brother I’m sorry, you got us a point but your face just then was so worth it!” Chip chuckles. Y/n sits back down, using the remainder of the napkins to dry the table. Arthur feeling all too aware that he may be blushing after being called a ‘good boy’ by the hottest girl he’s ever met, turns his head away from the table, nonchalantly saying “Where are the pickle boys?” to avoid the cameras picking up on any redness in his face. Luckily for him, they both appear from round the corner and return to the table. Sitting down and tucking their chairs in, Chris looks to Cal and bluntly says “Yeah, I threw up” with sheepish look, then he looks to the camera and sighs. George pretends to smell Chris’s bad breath and wafts his hand, then chuckles.

“One point to team Gherkings!” Cal starts, “And with that, the final scores are…” the players begin to smack their hands on the table for a drum roll. “In third place with 11 points is team Gherkings!” the other two teams clap as Chris put his hand to his chest and makes a faint bow. George puts his head down, smirking and gesturing at a very pale Chris, murmuring an “Obviously.”

“And now for first place… it’s a tie between Bone Appetite and The Fe-Mails!” Cal finishes. The table exchange a few ‘oohs’. “I thought this may happen,” Cal continues, “Therefore we have a tie breaker to determine first and second place!”

All of a sudden, two crew members approach the table with four baby Guinnesses, placing one in front of each of the tied team members.

“Oh god, I can’t drink anymore.” Chip whines, eliciting a low laugh from the table.

“I’m not sure if I can either.” Becky adds.

“Each team member will drink their baby Guinness, the faster of both teams will then compete in an arm wrestle.” Cal explains.

“Okay.” Y/n says to herself, determined, her hand ready on her small glass. She had assumed her team would’ve come last because of her, so beating George gave her some encouragement.

“Three-two-one-go!” Cal suddenly shouts very fast, hoping to throw them all off.

Chip doesn’t even move, he remains staring at his baby Guinness in defeat with his hands on his lap.

“Oh, fuck!” Becky calls out, quickly reaching for her drink and downing it. However y/n and Arthur had already finished theirs within just over a second.

Cal claps his hands together and declares: “Arthur and y/n win the race! Get ready to arm wrestle.” They lock eyes and reposition themselves ready. Both feeling a little heated from the eye contact, but they know it’ll make for good shots for the video.

“Get him, y/n!” Becky cheers.

“Don’t go easy on her Arthur!” Chip chants, patting Arthur on the back. The pair rest their elbows on the table and clasp hands, immediately feeling electricity from the contact, and hoping the spark isn’t visible on camera.

“You’re toe-ing… you’re going to do a Fe-FAIL!” Arthur stammers, the baby Guinness going straight to his head. The players laugh, including himself. Y/n cackles with her head down. Arthur squeezes her hand slightly to bring her attention back to the game. She lifts her head back up, locking eyes with him again and attempting a deadpan face. “Someone mute this TV, it-“ but she bursts out laughing before finishing her sentence. Arthur lets out a ‘pfft’ laugh, leaning his head back and squinting his eyes together.

“This is painful,” Chris chuckles, rubbing circles into his eyes with his hands.

“Indeed it is,” Cal adds, “Ready? Start on ‘go’.” The pair’s eyes meet again, y/n slightly turns her wrist to make the wrestle harder for Arthur and gives him a small squeeze. Arthur bites his lip and furrows his brows in response, staring at their connected hands. Y/n is seemingly unaware of just how strong Arthur with his sleeper build, although she’d never tell Arthur (or anyone for that matter) that she’s seen a lot of edits where he is shirtless.

“Three, two, one, go!” Cal calls. Immediately y/n seems to have the upper hand for a few seconds, Arthur’s hand mere inches from the table. Chris and Chip cheer Arthur on, telling him to pick up the slack. Meanwhile, George and Becky chant y/n’s name and smack the table in rhythm. Arthur’s face is contorted as he struggles, watching y/n as she stares at their hands. As soon as she glances back at Arthur, he suddenly smirks and slams her hand down on the table. “Oh my god!” Chip calls out, perking up and slamming his fists on the table with excitement.

“Outstanding. Arthur wins the arm wrestle, which means Bone Appetite wins this video’s pub golf with 7 points!” Cal declares gesturing to his right at the champions. Y/n’s still staring at Arthur with a wide mouth and still with her hand pinned down under Arthur’s. One cameraman zooms in to capture Chip and Arthur’s celebratory reaction, as Chip shakes Arthur’s shoulders and cheers until his voice breaks. Only then does Arthur realise he’s still holding y/n’s hand, giving her hand a couple of small squeezes again before letting go and giving Chip a hug.

Y/n smiles and pulls her hand away to applaud the winners with a smile, alongside the other players. Cal then turns to the girls. “And well done to The Fe-Mails, second place with 8 points!” He exclaims before clapping. Y/n and Becky both let out some ‘woop’s before throwing their prop envelopes in the air like confetti. Arthur and Chip then clap for them.

“Aw commiserations ladies” Chip taunts the girls, his clapping slowing but increasing in volume as he sticks out his bottom lip.

“Ah shut up you, you barely did anything!” Becky retorts.

“Yeah,” y/n joins in, pushing his baby Guinness closer to him. He fake gags and presses his head into Arthur’s neck.

“They’re bullying me Arthur!” He cries against him.

“Not gonna lie, you kind of deserved it,” Arthur replies giggling, watching y/n laugh.

The crew head outside to do their final clips, one by one they partake in the same interview they did before the pub golf games started. The question being a slight variation: ‘How did you fare today?’

Chris’s answer validates his answer at the beginning. Squeezing the bridge of his nose, he chuckles and bluntly answers: “We did shit.”

George’s answer is a stark contrast against his initial confident response. “I would’ve won if it wasn’t for that hobbit” he jokingly states with his arms crossed, his head gesturing towards his paling teammate.

Chip’s nonchalant ‘we’ll do alright I think’ from before was also very different to his new response: “We fucking smashed it, I knew we would!”

Arthur sticks to his dog theme with his answer. “We had fun and were the winners, in dog years this means we had seven times the fun… and seven times the wins” he exclaims with a big smile.

“I think we did fantastic, we would’ve won if it were me doing the arm wrestle, but we still smashed it!” Becky answers, confident as ever, pumping a fist towards the camera.

Lastly is y/n’s final answer. “I bloody loved it,” she chuckles, “I had the best time with the best people, I… had the best time!”

Chris struggles to get through the outro for the video while the others stand either side of him, smiling. The film crew stop recording and put their kits away, all heading back into the pub to have their own drinks, and the players follow them. Chris and Cal sit at a long table with their crew, whereas George, Chip, Becky, Arthur, and y/n head towards booth beside them. Arthur gestures for y/n to slide into the bench first, and he follows suit. Opposite them slides in Chip and George. “Guys my uber is here!” Becky announces. She says her goodbyes to everyone, calling y/n her partner in crime as y/n leans across the table to give her a hi-five. Arthur looks down to his lap shyly as y/n’s face was dangerously close to his during Becky’s farewell. “Have fun y/n” she says in a suggestive tone, before winking at her and leaving the pub. Y/n giggles to herself and readjusts her position.

“What was that about, why’d she say that like that?” Arthur asks y/n, his head tilted and leans closer towards y/n, narrowing his eyes with intrigue.

“Oh, that’s… nothing, she’s just being silly!” Y/n awkwardly replies, unclipping her mic from her collar to put in her pocket.

“Hmm… yeah…” Arthur murmurs, still looking at her suspiciously, but realising he’s still wearing his mic and removes his too. “I’ll give these back to Chris, do you want a drink? Anyone?” Arthur asks, directing the notion to the whole booth.

“I’ll just have a water please,” y/n answers.

“Me too,” George adds.

“If I drink anything else, I’ll fucking die.” Chip murmurs.

“Okay, three waters, I’ll be right back.” Arthur takes the mic packs and heads to Chris’s table. George leans towards y/n with his elbows on the table and his chin resting in his hands.

“Enjoyed the arm wrestle didn’t we?” He teases. Chip copies George’s pose, also awaiting y/n’s reply.

“Actually my wrist hurts now,” y/n awkwardly replies, rubbing her wrist.

“That’s not what I meant, don’t think I didn’t see you two still holding hands way after the arm wrestle was over!” George replies.

“Really?” Chip remarks, “Guess I was too busy celebrating to notice!”

Y/n eyes widen. “You don’t think the cameras picked up on it do you?” She asks awkwardly, “I’m still dealing with the y/n x Becky accusations!”

Arthur makes his way back to the table, juggling three glasses of water. He offers Chip some of his water, to which Chip declines. They chat away about the day for the next few minutes, Arthur’s arm brushing past y/n’s every so often while talking, and occasionally his leg touches hers too. George being a ‘bro’ to both Arthur and y/n, excuses himself to go to the toilets, subtly gesturing for Chip to leave too. Chip says he wants some fresh air and heads outside, leaving Arthur and y/n alone. The booth suddenly feels more intimate.

Arthur shifts on the bench so he’s facing y/n more, his right arm resting on the back of the bench, his hand by y/n’s head. She turns to face him too, her elbow resting on the table and her head on her hand. “Did you enjoy today?” He asks quietly, struggling to maintain eye contact now they’re alone and off camera. She nods, sitting up straighter but looking at her lap awkwardly.

“It was probably the best video I’ve ever been a part of, including my own” she replies with a giggle.

“Really? That fun, huh?” Arthur responds, now looking at her. She nods again.

“Was there anything in particular, or the whole day as a whole?” He queries.

“The whole day,” y/n beams. Arthur then nods, y/n looks around the pub before feeling brave. “Actually, you definitely made things more fun” She adds. Arthur’s eyes widen as he takes a sip of his water, trying to come up with something to say. Y/n follows suit, although it’s because her mouth has become extremely dry.

“What do you mean?” He questions, studying her face with a flattered grin.

“You just made me feel super comfortable, not that anyone made me UNcomfortable, but yeah. It really helped calm my nerves.” Y/n explains.

“Aw well, I’m so glad to hear that,” Arthur replies, moving his hand from the back of the bench to y/n’s shoulder and giving it a gentle jostle. “I think this was my favourite pub golf, by far,” He continues, “and that was down to you, most definitely.”

There was a cozy silence between the two. Y/n nods gleefully as she takes another sip of her water. As she sets the glass back down, she looks to Arthur to see him studying her face. His smile still visible, although more so in his eyes rather than his lips, as his gaze flutters over her features, pausing at her mouth before darting back up to her eyes. They can feel each other slowly leading in.

“Arthur, y/n,” Chris startles them with a hand tapping on the table, “uh sorry, we’re all heading off now. You coming?” Y/n checks her phone, surprised to see it’s getting late. She didn’t originally know how long these pub golf videos take, and it certainly didn’t feel like it took a whole entire day. Arthur turns back to look at y/n with an inquisitive smile. “We’re gonna head back to theirs to watch a horror movie or something, if you want to join?” He asks.

“Yeah, you can crash if you’re not busy tomorrow too, Arthur’s staying over.” Chris chimes in. Y/n of course, accepts the invitation.

Chip makes his own way home, promising to text once he’s back safe. George, Chris, Arthur, and y/n head into a taxi to travel back to the boys’ flat. Chris sits in front with the driver, chatting away with him. Whereas y/n is sandwiched in the back between Arthur and George. “Come on y/n, put us out of our misery,” George starts, his odd sentence gains him confused glances from y/n and Arthur, “who do you think you’ll be shipped most with by the viewers after this video goes live?” He continues with a cheeky grin.

“Probably Becky again.” Y/n chuckles, replying fast without much thought.

“You and Becky, ey?” George enquires, pretending to think as he looks to the ceiling of the taxi and rubs his chin before adding: “Now there’s an image.”

“Don’t be such a perve!” Arthur scolds half-heartedly. They all share a snigger.

“I recon you two.” Chris chimes in, turning in his chair and gesturing to y/n and Arthur with a genuine smile, though his voice raspy.

“Oh really?” Arthur questioned, his cheeks beginning to burn again as y/n turns to look at him. The closeness of their faces in the cramped taxi adding to the heat as they lock eyes and share giggle.

♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥

[PART TWO]

A/n: my first fic! I hope you enjoyed, sorry it was long. I basically wrote out an entire YouTube view lol but I loved writing it nonetheless. I love a good fluffy slow burner, but I also love smut too so watch this space, hehe Part two at the boys’ flat? Also, shall I write a follow-up where y/n and Arthur end up in a pub golf pair after popular demand from the viewers? - Gabby xo

#Arthur tv #arthurtv #arthur tv fluff #arthurtv fluff #arthur tv x reader #Arthurtv x reader #george clarkey #bambino becky #burntchip #ChrisMD #calfreezy

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crushedchair · 8 months ago

Text

accessorized team no name because they have infected my brain

above pre-hiatus and below the current stuff as of BFDIA 15,, simple descriptions and sloppy tenfries under cut eugh

i will probably make current stuff versions for everyone later but i am tired bleurgh

i keep drawing fries' proportions differently in every single drawing. blorp

#bfdi #bfdia #bfb #osc #do i really gotta tag all these #team no name #bfdi tennis ball #bfdi fries #bfdi golf ball #bfdi gelatin #bfdi rocky #bfdi firey #bfdi puffball #tenfries #my art

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spicymancer · 3 months ago

Note

so do you think you'll run out of colours or sports first?

Proooobably colors? A lot of colors are kind of indistinct from each other or sound awkward as names. I wrote a whole thing about my thought process in naming an Asian character "Yellow" and that's because I am myself Asian. I'm somewhat hesitant to just name a character Black.

Sport-wise even when I'm limited to just sports with a non-ball implement, I've still got a ton of options that I'd be excited to add. Though Power Rangers already did Billiards.

The actual answer to this is neither colors nor sports! It's *ELEMENTS*. The original ActiRanger team not only has colors and sports (and numbers!) but also elemental designations.

Baseball: Game of Fire Lacrosse: Game of Earth Hockey: Game of Ice Table Tennis: Game of Lightning Golf: Game of the Wind

We're already into the secondary classical elements like Ice and Lightning. Water would probably need to be reserved for Water Polo or something. Wood probably suits Caber Toss, but what about Cricket? or Hurling? What kind of Element goes with Jai Alai? or croquet? Captain Planet got away with using "Heart" as an element so I'll probably go that direction and start to dip into non-elemental forces like "Speed" "Courage" etc.

That answer got a little rambly, sorry about that. Thank you for reading!

#oc questions #actirangers #Fun fact #Pink was originally 5 until someone pointed out it'd be a funny golf pun to make her shout “FOUR” when she morphs.

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pitlanepeach · 3 months ago

Text

Radio Silence | Chapter Seven

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren't quirks, they're survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, strong language, more angst (IM SORRY IT'LL GET BETTER SOON I PROMISE).

Notes — Welcome to Oracle Red Bull Racing, Amelia Brown.

Want to be added to the taglist? Let me know! - Peach x

2020

The office was quiet in the way only offices designed for genius could be; not sterile, but reverent. Drafting boards and CAD monitors hummed quietly in the background, interrupted only by the soft tick of a mechanical clock that someone had insisted on keeping analogue.

Amelia sat stiffly in the chair opposite Adrian Newey.

He was perched on a stool beside a massive whiteboard, sleeves rolled up, fingers stained faintly with pen ink, as though he’d been sketching ideas directly into the fabric of his shirt. His presence was oddly... nerve-racking.

Neither of them spoke for the first few minutes.

Amelia rolled her golf ball between her hands in her lap, trying not to bounce her knee. Adrian made a few marks on a fresh sheet of paper, muttering under his breath. It sounded like a stream of formulaic gibberish to anyone else. To her, it was almost a lullaby.

He paused. Looked at her. “Do you have any thoughts?”

She shrugged. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to hear them.”

Adrian hummed, and then there was a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I will always listen. I will also always tell you when you are wrong.”

She swallowed, then nodded. Then she gestured to his paper pad. “You’re already sketching the '21 nosecone?”

“Yes. The frontal vortex targets under the new regs are… absolutely maddening. They’ll make cooling a nightmare.” He muttered.

She shifted forward, almost involuntarily. “Mm. Not if you separate the low-pressure bleed early and feed it into the underside of the side-pod. It could trick the wake into thinking it’s interacting with a full-body airflow.”

He went very still.

“Interesting,” he said slowly, standing and crossing to the nearest drafting board. He didn’t ask her to explain it again. He just started drawing. She stood too, walking around the conference table in order to stand at his side. Without looking at her, he handed her a pen.

She made a face at it. “I like red.”

He didn’t say anything. Just took the black pen back and found her a red one.

By the time lunchtime rolled around, they had filled three boards, made seven sketches, and the early formation of a concept that wouldn’t just survive under the 2021 regs; it would thrive.

They hadn’t spoken much, not conversationally. Just fragments.

“This doesn’t breathe well at speed.”

“What if we taper the upper control arm here instead?”

“Why does this remind me of the '98 car?”

But somehow, it worked.

By mid-afternoon, Adrian glanced up at her from the schematic they were both hunched over.

“You think in shapes,” he said.

She blinked at him. “You think in sound.”

He smiled, and it was full of promise. “We will make a wonderful pair, Miss Brown.”

She let out a quiet breath. “Oh. Good. I was afraid that you would regret spending three million pounds on me.”

He stared at her for a long moment before laughing shortly. “No regret, Miss Brown. Not a single one.”

For the first time in weeks, she didn’t feel anxious. Or lonely. Or burning with the guilt of abandoning McLaren, the team that was synonymous with her family name.

She tucked the golf ball back into her pocket. “I’ll draw up a more formal aero flow map tonight.”

“Don’t bother,” he said, flipping to a new page. “We’ll build it first. Then reverse-engineer the explanation.”

She grinned, sharp and fast and excited. “We can do that?”

“We can do anything we want.” He told her.

—

Christian pushed open the door to the technical office with the kind of hesitant curiosity reserved for someone who was pretty sure they’d told everyone to go home six hours ago.

The light was still on.

At first, he thought maybe the cleaners had left it by mistake. But as he stepped inside, the faint scratch of pencil on paper, the rustle of blueprints, and the hum of two very intense brains in quiet dialogue stopped him dead in his tracks.

Adrian was barefoot now, barefoot, perched on a wheeled chair with one leg pulled up under him like some kind of engineering gremlin, holding a scale model in one hand and gesturing toward it with the other, mid-monologue.

Amelia was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a yellow golf ball tucked beneath her heel, grease-smudged notebook balanced on her knee, jotting notes at lightning speed while murmuring confirmations like, “Yeah, but the boundary layer separation’s going to collapse here—unless we change the outwash angle…”

Neither of them noticed Christian standing in the doorway.

The room was covered in paper. The whiteboards had no white left. Someone, probably Adrian, had scrawled equations on the glass wall. There was a half-eaten croissant on the radiator. Half of the work was done in black ink. The other half was done in red.

He took one silent step backward.

Paused.

Then slowly, quietly, pulled the door closed behind him.

From inside, he could just barely hear Adrian’s voice, “Did I ever tell you about the time I built a full wind tunnel model out of my wife’s hairdryer and a vacuum tube?”

Amelia sucked in a breath. “Did it work?”

“It blew the roof off my shed.”

She laughed, genuinely, full of lightness.

Christian exhaled and reached for his phone.

—

iMessage — 00:45am

Christian Horner

We are going to become world champions.

Helmut Marko

How can you know?

Christian Horner

Newey is barefoot. His intern is laughing.

Helmut Marko

Mein Gott.

—

The drive home from Milton Keynes had been quiet; just the low hiss of the car heater and the soft murmur of the radio.

It had been her first week working at Red Bull Racing. She’d stayed in Max’s flat, the one he kept in Milton Keynes but only used when he was in town for sim sessions.

The high of her first week was still humming under her skin; the buzz of purpose, of being understood, but underneath that, exhaustion tugged at her bones. She felt stretched thin. Too much stimulus, too many new faces.

But the moment she stepped through the front door, into the warm, lemon-honey air of the house she’d grown up in, none of that mattered.

Her mum was in the kitchen, back turned, humming softly to the radio.

Amelia didn’t say anything.

She dropped her bag quietly, kicked off her shoes, walked straight over and folded herself into her mother’s arms from behind, pressing her forehead between her shoulder blades, breathing her in.

Tracy stilled. Just for a moment. Then she reached back, tugging Amelia around until she could hold her properly; one hand at the back of her head, the other wrapped around her shoulders, thumb rubbing slow circles into her jumper.

“Hello, darling,” she whispered. “I missed you.”

Amelia pressed closer, her cheek against her mum’s collarbone. “I missed you too.”

They stood there like that for a long time, the hum of the radio filling the silence between them, a wooden spoon tapping gently against the edge of a pan.

“I saw the article,” Tracy said eventually, voice soft. “And the photos.”

Amelia tensed.

Another piece had gone live, following the Motorsport.com exclusive. Red Bull had shared her official announcement — complete with photographs of her in team gear, standing in the middle of Max and Alex.

Tracy didn’t let her pull away. “You looked very professional. And happy.”

“I am,” she said, too fast. Then again, slower. “I am. I just… I’m wishing that he wouldn’t make it so hard.”

Tracy sighed into her hair. “Your father’s not angry with you, love. Not really. He’s angry with himself. He had no idea that you were even receiving offers, let alone considering any.”

Amelia swallowed. Shrugged. “He didn’t want me at McLaren. He never offered. I gave him every chance to.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Tracy pulled back just far enough to look her in the eye. “And you were right not to wait forever. You did the brave thing. You put yourself first. I’m proud of you.”

Amelia blinked fast. “I’m not used to that,” she admitted. “Putting myself first. It feels… selfish.”

Tracy brushed a strand of damp hair from her face. “No. Not selfish. It’s how you grow. You’re building race cars with Adrian bloody Newey. That’s something to be incredibly proud of.”

Amelia smiled, weakly. “They call me Mini Newey. All of the engineers. Christian. Max thinks that it’s funny.”

Tracy chuckled, pulling her into a tight squeeze again. “They should call you Better Newey.”

That pulled a real laugh out of her, small and sore and soft.

“Now,” Tracy said, letting her go, “go change into your favourite pyjamas and let me feed you. I bet you haven’t eaten a real meal all week.”

“I’ve been living on machine coffee and stale pastries,” Amelia admitted, already peeling off her jumper.

Tracy shuddered. “Criminal behaviour. Go on, love. I’ll have dinner on the table in ten.”

As Amelia padded toward the stairs, warmth blooming in her chest, she heard her mum call gently after her. “He’ll come around. He loves you too much not to.”

She didn’t answer, but she nodded once, before disappearing up the stairs.

—

iMessage — 01:43am

Lando Norris did u leave bc of me like. mclaren it’s okay if u did i just. i just need to know feels like maybe u did and idk. i feel shit also this is prob a bad time. i had like 5 beers and a shot of smth blue was v blue. tasted like acid

Amelia Brown No. Not because of you. You don’t matter to me that much.

Lando Norris ouch ok but like partly bc of me?

Amelia Brown Not everything is about you, Lando.

Lando Norris but some things are

Amelia Brown You started ignoring me. For no reason. Then I got a job designing a future championship-winning car. Those two things are unrelated.

Lando Norris when did u become so meannnn :(

Amelia Brown I’m not being mean. You’re just used to me being quiet when people treat me badly.

Lando Norris i didn’t mean to treat u badly i just panicked everything was getting weird and real and i didn’t know what to say

Amelia Brown So you said nothing. That’s still a choice.

Lando Norris yeah. i know. i’m sorry i miss u sometimes just thought u should know that

Amelia Brown That doesn’t change anything.

Lando Norris yeah i figured ok

Amelia Brown Go home. You are going to feel terrible tomorrow morning.

Lando Norris already do thanks i guess goodnight mini newey

Amelia Brown Don’t call me that

—

Amelia sat cross-legged on the floor with her laptop open in front of her, the Red Bull Racing CAD interface glowing on the screen. Max was half-stretched out on the couch behind her, a bowl of strawberries balanced on his stomach and a bottle of Heineken in hand.

“Okay,” Amelia said, tapping the trackpad. “Front wing redesign is about eighty percent locked. We’re still playing with DRS and airflow under braking, but I think what we’ve got is going to make the car ridiculously sharp into corners.”

Max took a sip of his beer, watching her over the rim. “Ridiculously sharp sounds nice.” He noted.

“It’ll bite if you get lazy,” she warned him.

He shrugged. “So, just like you.”

Amelia didn’t even look up at him. Over the past few weeks of working with him, she’d learned how to decipher his tones — he was teasing her. “I’m not lazy. You’d die without me.”

He tossed a strawberry at her. She caught it and took a bite.

She turned back to her laptop, sighed, and opened up the email thread that she and Adrian had going.

Max cleared his throat. “Ah, have you talked to your dad yet?”

Amelia’s fingers froze over the trackpad. “No.”

Max nodded. “He’s still not talking to you?”

“Nope.” She popped the ‘p’.

“Your mom?” He questioned.

“She’s trying. He’s just… stubborn. You know what he’s like.” Amelia exhaled. “He thinks I betrayed him.”

“You didn’t.”

“I know that now.” She rubbed her temple, leaned her head back against the couch. “But I also think I became inconvenient. It was easier when I was just the kid who wanted to build toy cars in the corner. Now I’m—”

“Mini Newey,” Max offered, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

She groaned. “Max, stop.”

He rolled his eyes. “You are, though. And you’re building my car, so I’m not complaining.” A pause. “Have you talked to Norris?”

Amelia blinked slowly, then shut her laptop with a quiet snap. “He messaged me two weeks ago. Drunk. Asked if I left McLaren because of him.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “Did you?”

“Of course not.” She scoffed. What a ridiculous idea. “He just… doesn’t get it. He thinks that everything is about him.”

Max laughed. “He’s nineteen. His brain is still soft.”

“I’m also nineteen,” she muttered, tipping her head back against the couch to look up at him. “I think he’s just emotionally illiterate.”

Max blinked, then grinned. “Tell him that to his face. I’d pay to see it.”

“You’re not a world champion yet,” she shot back. “You don’t get to make demands like that.”

He leaned in, until their faces were almost level. “I will be. And when I am, I’ll buy you a stupidly expensive watch for every podium we get.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You say that now.”

“Mark my words,” he said, puffing his chest in mock pride.

They sat there for a while — not quite friends, not just colleagues. Something in-between. Teammates in the truest sense. Bound by a shared obsession: a championship. A car so fast it betrayed the law of physics.

“I miss him,” she said quietly.

Max exhaled through his nose, slow and even. “He’s a nice boy. Stupid, but nice.”

“I know.” Her voice was barely a breath.

—

iMessage — 18:15

Fernando Alonso How has your first month at RB been? Do I need to make any angry phone calls?

Amelia Brown It’s been great. Everything’s going better than I could’ve imagined. I’m already making progress. Adrian and I work really well together.

Fernando Alonso I told you so, did I not? You two are very alike!

Amelia Brown It’s a perfect fit, actually. I feel like I’m finally being heard.

Fernando Alonso Good, good. I knew it. You made the right choice. And now, you’re three million pounds richer. That helps too.

Amelia Brown Haha, yes. Very much. I would've probably taken £5, so, thank you for handling the negotiation for me.

Fernando Alonso Mi Nina, for your talents, they would have paid three billion.

Amelia Brown I miss you so much. When are you coming to visit?

Fernando Alonso Soon. I’ve got some meetings in London next month.

Amelia Brown Anything exciting?

Fernando Alonso You’ll be the first to know if there is.

Amelia Brown :)

—

Lando stood with his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his hoodie, shoulders hunched, posture defensive. Across the polished meeting table, Zak leaned back in his chair, arms folded tightly over his chest, eyes fixed on the floor like it might offer him an answer he hadn’t already lost.

The silence had stretched too long.

“She’s really gone, huh?” Lando finally muttered.

Zak didn’t look up. “Yes.”

Lando blinked hard. He wasn’t sure what he expected; some kind of denial, maybe. Some reassurance that there was still a version of this where she came back. That maybe Red Bull was just a phase. A test. Something to prove a point.

“She left a hole here,” Zak said eventually. “Not just in the team. In the culture. She was…” he paused, trying to find a word that wouldn’t sound too sentimental. “I didn’t realise how important she was to the team. How much she was involved in.”

Lando didn’t answer right away. His jaw was tight. “We all let her down.”

Zak looked at him then. Really looked at him. “You liked her.”

It wasn’t a question. Not judgment, either. Just a fact. Like pointing out a flat tire or a burning building.

Lando flinched. “Yeah. I really liked her.”

“You shouldn’t have listened to us,” Zak said quietly. “Any of us. You should’ve fought for her.”

“I couldn’t.” Lando’s voice was sharp, brittle. “I was scared. And stupid.”

Zak let out a rough, humourless laugh. “And I was selfish. I never gave her the recognition she deserved.” He paused. “She was the brain behind the Mercedes deal.”

Lando’s head jerked up, eyes wide.

Zak’s voice dropped, heavy with something close to guilt. “She pulled it all together, handed it to me in a file with start-to-finish instruction. Never asked for credit. I knew she wanted more, deserved more, but I didn’t give it to her. Not because she wasn’t ready. Because I wasn’t brave enough.”

He leaned forward, elbows on the table.

“I didn’t want to be the one who gave her a shot, because I knew what people would say. Nepotism. Favouritism. They’d talk about her name before they ever looked at her work. And I thought I was protecting her from that.” He shook his head. “But I wasn’t. I was just holding her back.”

Lando stared at him. Silent.

There it was.

The ugly truth of it all.

Lando swallowed thickly. “She was never going to stay.”

“No,” Zak said. “No. I don’t think so.”

Lando ran a hand over his face.

She had belonged here once. She had. And they’d both let her feel like she didn’t.

Now she was designing the future with the enemy.

And they just had to sit back and watch it happen.

—

The paddock buzzed with the usual pre-season chaos; the rhythmic whirr of engines, the sharp sound of tires scraping against the asphalt, and the chatter of team members huddled in tight circles.

Amelia stood near the Red Bull garage, her posture stiff but her eyes alert, scanning the familiar sea of cars and faces.

It was the start of the 2020 season, and everything felt both familiar and brand new. The sharp smell of fuel lingered in the air, mixing with the faint metallic tang of freshly waxed cars. But this time, she wasn’t in McLaren orange or one of her father’s old team shirts; this time, she was in Red Bull team gear. Black and dark blue with that iconic bull on her chest, the Red Bull Racing logo proud on her back.

And tucked around her neck, a pair of navy blue Red Bull ear defenders.

She glanced to her left. Max was chatting animatedly with Christian, the two of them gesturing towards the car as the crew worked around it. Adrian was nearby, bent over a laptop, his face creased in concentration. Amelia would soon be next to him, diving into the data and throwing out her ideas. But for a moment, she lingered at the edge of the paddock, trying to ease herself into this new, new, new.

Amelia’s gaze drifted toward the McLaren garage, even though she knew she shouldn’t be looking. There was Lando, standing with her dad, his usual smile present but different. Amelia tried not to flinch.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of her ear defenders, the cool plastic grounding her, just a little. She had left her golf ball in her office, determined not to need it.

Her eyes flicked back to the Red Bull car, sleek and aggressive in its design. It was more than just metal and carbon fiber. It was partly her work, her heart and soul poured into something tangible.

And then, from the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a camera crew approaching her.

Her stomach dropped.

The journalist’s voice reached her first, though she barely registered the words. “Amelia, first season with Red Bull Racing. You’ve been working behind the scenes for a while, but now you're here, in the paddock, in full Red Bull gear. How does it feel to be wearing navy blue now, after spending so much time with your father’s team, McLaren?”

Before she could formulate any kind of response, a familiar presence appeared beside her. Max.

He stepped in without hesitation, his body language calm and protective as he leaned slightly into her space. His gaze shifted to the interviewer, who looked briefly excited at the new addition.

"Need an out?" Max asked her, his voice low enough only for her to hear. His stance was relaxed, but there was something in the way he held himself; a quiet assurance that, if she needed him to, he would get her away.

The camera crew hovered expectantly, but Max didn’t flinch. He didn’t let the pressure reach her. He stayed right there, like a grounding force beside her.

"Amelia?" The interviewer prompted, waiting for her response.

Max’s eyes softened as he glanced at her. “Say whatever feels right,” he murmured, offering her a smile that was small but understanding. “You don’t owe them anything.”

For a moment, Amelia felt the tension drain from her. This wasn’t a performance. She didn’t have to give them the perfect soundbite. She could speak her truth, on her own terms.

She took a deep breath and, feeling Max still there, solid and supportive beside her, looked directly at the interviewer.

“It feels powerful,” she said simply, her voice steady but soft. It was the truth. For the first time, it felt like she was owning her decisions, not just navigating them. Powerful because this was her journey now. Because, despite everything, she was in total control.

The interviewer didn’t push for more, probably sensing the finality in her words. But the moment lingered for a second longer, like they were all collectively taking a breath.

Max gave her a subtle nod of approval, his lips twitching into a smirk.

And, just as quickly, the two of them turned and started walking away, the cameras still rolling behind them, but it didn’t matter. Amelia’s shoulders relaxed, a weight lifting, and her feet carried her toward the garage.

—

iMessage — 19:51

Lando Norris I’m sorry. I know that’s not good enough but I am I’m really sorry. And I want you to know that I’m happy for you. I’m not being sarcastic. You looked beautiful on camera. I’m glad Max was there with you. I wish it had been me.

Amelia Brown Congratulations on the podium finish, Lando.

—

The morning sun was bright over the circuit as Max and Amelia walked into the F3 paddock. Amelia was wearing a denim dress. Max, in his typical laid-back skinny jeans and plain shirt, had his hands in his pockets and a baseball cap perched low over his eyes. He was always eager to watch the younger drivers, always curious about who might be the next big thing in motorsport.

She was more used to the engineering side of things, but she’d been a fan of motorsport in general since she was a child. The thrill of being here just to watch was amazing.

They settled into the VIP viewing platform. The race kicked off with an energy that seemed to buzz in the air. Engines roared and the young drivers raced past, navigating the tight turns and high-speed straights with a determination that made Amelia feel the thrill of the sport she’d always loved.

As the race unfolded, Amelia’s eyes were drawn to car 81; Oscar Piastri. The young Australian was carving through the field with an almost eerie calm, moving up with a precision that belied his years. He raced like someone who had been here for ages, his every move instinctive yet calculated, as though he had been born for this.

Amelia felt that familiar pull. It was the same feeling she had gotten watching Lando in Formula Renault all those years ago — a sense that she was witnessing something special. Piastri surged ahead, eventually crossing the line first, claiming the win in the season opener.

“Damn,” Max muttered, impressed. “Kid’s fast.”

Amelia leaned in closer to the barrier, watching as Piastri celebrated with his team, their joy radiating from every hug and high-five. She turned to Max, who was watching her closely, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Don’t get too attached,” he teased. “He’s not yours to claim yet.”

“I’m not trying to claim him,” she replied, her tone steady, though there was an undeniable certainty in her voice. “But I will. When the time comes. And I think...” She trailed off, watching Piastri for a moment longer. “It will come for him very soon.”

Max grinned, shaking his head fondly. “Always thinking ahead, kleine zus.”

Amelia’s eyes remained on the Australian driver, a quiet feeling settling deep in her chest. She couldn’t quite place it.

“His manager?” she asked, her gaze still on Oscar as he laughed with his team, the world around him seeming to pause for a moment.

“Mark Webber,” Max replied, his voice neutral, but his expression unreadable.

“Ah.” Amelia’s lips tipped upward into an amused smile. Mark Webber, who had been central to Red Bull's rise in the sport. She glanced sideways at Max, then back at Oscar. “Mark Webber,” she repeated, her voice soft. “It’s strange, isn't it? Fernando and Mark; rivals. And now, I’m working at Red Bull thanks to Fernando, and Oscar is under Mark’s wing.” She looked at Max, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. “Formula One is a funny place.”

Max grinned, clearly entertained by the thought. “You can make connections out of anything, can’t you?”

Amelia let out a soft laugh, her gaze returning to the young driver in the distance. “I guess I do,” she said, her voice quieter now, a subtle sense of realisation setting in. “And somehow, they always seem to circle back to Red Bull.”

It was funny how Formula 1 worked that way: legacies, rivalries, and new beginnings always intertwined.

—

iMessage — 00:42am

Amelia Brown

Are you in Woking?

Lando Norris

Yes…?

Amelia Brown

I’m home alone. Come over. I am still angry at you, but I’m ready to talk to you now.

Lando Norris

Ok im omw like right now

NEXT CHAPTER

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