#Last 2 weeks until I'm 27

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 2

Masterlist || AO3

Pairing: Millionaire Joel Miller x Female Reader Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.  Chapter Summary: Try as he might, Joel just can’t shake the memory of you. Try as you might, you can’t stop thinking of the woman tied to his desk. CW: The slow burn is burning. Mentions of death and underage drinking. Topless in public, this is a love story about BDSM after all. Reader does have some physical descriptions, so maybe more of an OFC, or just pretend you have pouty lips and a slightly upturned nose. Double POV (reader and Joel). AN: Thank you SO FUCKING MUCH for all the love on chapter one of this story. I literally cannot believe it surpasses 1000 notes in just a month, you're all insane and I love you. Dividers by @saradika-graphics. Biiiig shout outs to the bb's who have been so supportive of me spiralling and panicking this last month over the next chapter. I'd be in a deep dark cave without you @mermaidgirl30 @littlevenicebitch69 @lotusbxtch @evolnoomym @joelmillerisapunk and @milla-frenchy . Thank you! I feel like I'm giving some sort of Oscars speech and if you're still reading this, you're the real MVP. XO Word Count: 8.5k

~ Joel - 27 Years Ago ~

Joel’s stands in the garage of someone he barely knows, surrounded by drunk and rowdy classmates from his high school. He’s a senior, graduating in just a few weeks and moments like this are one of the perks of being the star designated hitter and first baseman, everyone wants you at their party. Someone hands him a warm, flat beer that was pumped poorly from a keg as they pat his back roughly in congratulations. Joel’s not sure how a bunch of seventeen year olds managed to get a keg, most likely an older brother, but he drinks the shitty beer all the same. Speaking of brothers, he hasn’t seen Tommy in a while. He’s only fifteen and he promised their mom he’d keep an eye on him. The younger Miller shouldn’t be at a seniors party, but that's where those perks come in again, because if Joel was good, Tommy was better. In fact, he was so much better that he’s played up a whole age group his entire life, always right beside Joel. Tommy was the back catcher, and tonight he got the eleventh inning game winning out at home for them to win the state championship. 

He finds Tommy chatting with a group of girls, all of whom are incredibly beautiful. They’re going to be very disappointed when they find out how much younger he is than them. Joel smiles into his red solo cup as he takes a sip of stale beer. He tucks his free hand into the pocket of his light blue wranglers and walks over to the wall of the garage. He leans back and crosses one cowboy booted foot over the other. The brim of his cowboy hat grazes the unpainted drywall behind him. Texas, and the country, in the late nineties was where everyone wanted to be, and Joel Miller could have been the poster boys for teenage country boys in 1997.

Brooks & Dunn plays on someone's CD player in the corner, laughter and people talking overlaps until it’s just noise to Joel. He stands back, watching his younger brother effortlessly charm the five pretty girls around him. All of them in tight blue jeans, lacy white tops, denim vests and cowboy boots. He grabs one by the hand and Joel overhears, “I’ll teach ya how to two step, shame to not know in a place like this.” Then the motherfucker winks at her like he’s some sort of cowboy Casanova. Joel lets out a silent laugh through his nose and sips the beer again shaking his head. 

Just as Tommy pulls the pretty little blonde over towards the unmarked and unofficial dance floor in the corner of the garage the song changes. Slow guitar, followed by the unmistakable twang of Tim Magraw’s voice. Joel didn’t know it then, but that song would change the course of his life and intertwine itself in the very fabric of his being.

‘Dancin’ in the dark, Middle of the night’

That’s when he sees her, tall and slender, deep olive toned skin and pale green eyes. Her dark curly hair cascades over one of her shoulders. She’s laughing with another classmate, and even though he can’t hear the sound of it over the noise of the party, he can tell it’s a light and melodic sound, and he wants to spend the rest of his life drawing that out of her. 

‘Takin’ your heart, An holdin’ it tight’

He puts his warm beer on the work bench beside him and takes off his black felt Stetson, placing it over his broad chest, hoping the comfort of his favourite hat would slow the rate at which his heart is beating. 

‘Emotional touch, Touchin’ my skin, And askin’ you to do, What you’ve been doin’ all over again’

She looks over at him, smiling shyly, and before he knows what he’s doing he’s walking over to her. His legs move on their own accord, knees shaking as he approaches the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

‘Oh, it’s a beautiful thing, Don’t think I can keep it all in, I just gotta let you know, What is that won’t let me go’

Everything in the room fades as she fully comes into view. Beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe the girl in front of him. She radiates a warmth that he’s only ever known his mother to radiate. It’s the first time he’s ever seen this girl, but she feels like home. This is it, that one thing that everyone says you’re supposed to feel. The thing his grandpa told him when he was younger, “Son, you’ll just know. It sounds ridiculous, but when I saw your grandma it was like a pull behind my belly button. I just knew, and I’ve known everyday since then.”

“Howdy, ma’am,” Joel says, tipping his hat to her before placing it back on his head. 

She giggles, confirming his earlier thoughts. It really is the sweetest fucking sound he’s ever heard. “Hi.”

He holds out a hand to her and she takes it, her skin is so warm and smooth. In that moment he knows that hers will be the last hand he ever holds. Fire flushes through his veins as he continues, “I’m Joel, what’s your name?”

“Oh, I know who you are Joel Miller,” she flirts, not letting go of his hand. “I’m Tiffany.”

“Tiffany,” he repeats, his voice going deeper as he says it. It’s egotistical but he loves the way girls shiver just a little when he lowers his register. “And how is it that you know who I am?”

She slides her hand from his and reaches up to grab his cowboy hat, plopping it onto her head. “Star first baseman and designated hitter, everyone knows Joel Miller. Look around, look at all these girls lookin’ at you, cowboy.”

For the first time in his life Joel finds himself blushing, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Tiffany. 

“I only see one girl.” She rolls her eyes and swats at his bicep at the cheesy line, but that was it for both of them. From that point they were inseparable. 

They both turned eighteen a few months later, and just ten months, and a thirty two hour labour after Tiff turned eighteen, a tiny little Sarah came into the world all pink and screaming. Joel hears that song again as he watches Tiffany hold that little bundle of blankets, ‘Better than I was, More than I am, And all of this happened, By taking your hand.’

They get married when Sarah is just a few months old. Both his beautiful curly haired girls in white dresses, Tiffany grabbing that same black Stetson off his head during their first dance. He holds them both, swaying from side to side, a hot tear rolling down his cheek at how goddamn happy he is. ‘And who I am now, Is who I wanted to be, And now that we’re together, I’m stronger than ever, I’m happy and free’.

Things for their little family of three are perfect. They buy the house with the white picket fence and the wrap around porch. Joel gets a job working construction and enjoys a nightcap with his beautiful young wife on their front porch every night. They make love often, slow and sweaty, Joel worshiping her soft copper toned skin inch by glorious inch. Tiffany wraps every minute of her day around Sarah and being a sweet, devoted housewife. Nothing seems to stand in their way. Until the diagnosis shortly before Sarah starts Kindergarten. 

Tiffany is too young, they’re all too young. This isn’t something that happens to people their age, they haven’t had enough time. Joel spends the next few months in a haze, it has to be a bad dream. The appointments, the treatments, the call to 911 when the illness starts to win. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. 

He holds Tiffany until the very end. Sponging a soft kiss to her forehead, whispering his goodbyes as they shut off the machines keeping her here. “You’ve been so strong, my love. You fought so hard. I know you’re scared to go, I’m scared too, but we’ll do it like we do everything else. Together. I’ll be ok, Sarah will be ok. Just rest now. I love you.” 

As she takes her last shaky and shallow breath, a sound will live with him until he takes a breath that matches hers, that song echoes through his hollow chest. ‘It’s your love, It does something to me, It sends a shock right through me, I can’t get enough’.

You - Present Day

You roll to a stop outside Mister Miller’s house for your second day of cleaning. As you look towards the impressive house your pussy flutters at the memories of yesterday - the almost pornographic noises that were made in that office, his soft and kind eyes as he apologized profusely in the kitchen. You were supposed to go to a study group last night, but instead you got lost in a rabbit hole of porn where women are tied up and fingered. You got yourself off four times thinking about a man you’re not even supposed to know, wishing it was his thick fingers hitting that spot inside of you that you can’t reach on your own. You felt guilty about it last night and now being back in his home you have that same sinking feeling again. 

Stupid. Sacrificing my future for a fantasy. Never again. 

You let yourself in the house and look at the list in your cleaning app. You pop in your AirPods and start listening to your favourite true crime podcast; thankful for the new episode, a gruesome distraction as you scrub baseboards and lightswitches. The episode ends and in an attempt to not let your mind wander to the gorgeous man that lives here, and the depraved new things you’ve discovered about yourself, you start an educational audiobook about civil rights law. You might want Joel Miller to strap you down and whisper filth in your ears, but you are a good person, and your aspiration in life is to help people who face discrimination on a daily basis. 

You breeze around his home, checking off each task and before you know it it’s almost one in the afternoon. You have almost your whole list complete, his soft sheets are in the dryer (and yes, you are incredibly proud of yourself for only putting the luxurious white fabric to your face twice on the way to the washer). You only have the patio furniture to spray down and the kitchen counters to wipe. That’s when your stomach growls, almost as if to remind you that it’s the perfect time to take a break while the dryer finishes. You haul all your stuff out to your car and lock up, sitting in your front seat as you take out your lunch container.

An engine revs in the distance and your heart skips in your chest. Before you even have time to wonder if it’s Joel’s car, one of the black garage doors slides open and Joel’s obsidian coloured Aston Martin rolls by you, stopping with precision on the shiny cement floor of the garage. You avert your eyes, focused on your container of chicken noodle soup. The left side of your face feels the warmth of his gaze fixed on you. Without looking over you can tell he is studying you and it takes everything you have to keep your eyes on your measly lunch. 

The afternoon sun is blocked as Joel raps his knuckles on your window. You glance over at him, looking up through your lashes. He’s looking at you intensely but you can’t quite place his expression. As always, his deep brown eyes are locked on yours, he could either be happy to see you or incredibly disappointed in you. But one thing is for sure, he’s calculating your every need with those warm and inviting eyes. He knocks again so you crank the handle to roll your window down a crack.

He raises one eyebrow at you, both hands rest on the roof of your SUV as he leans forward to speak to you through the small opening in the window. “Seriously?” His voice is laced with sarcasm. 

“What?” You say, “Can’t be too safe.”

He blinks at you before continuing, “What'd ya doin’ out here?”

You lift your tupperware container a little, willing the tingles between your thighs to stop, “Eating my lunch.”

He rolls his eyes, running his hand along his greying scruff. “You’re eatin’ lukewarm soup in your car in the middle of February.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement, but his voice is warm and curious, and you start to realize that the look on his face isn’t happiness or disappointment, but concern. 

You nod, “Yes.” His eyes dance around your face and you swear your heart is beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. Fluttering so fast that it’s traveling up your throat and you wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it. 

“Get out of the car. Come warm that up and eat inside.” His voice is thick with concern, entire face soft as he looks at you. 

You swallow your heart back down to where it belongs, “I’m not allowed to do that, Mister Miller.”

His cheeks redden a little and some of the softness in him disappears, “Don’t call me that, it’s jus’ Joel to you.”

“I’m not even supposed to know your name, Mister Miller. I can’t call you by your first name.”

He shifts his weight onto one foot and points a thick finger at you through your window, “Don’t. Either you call me Joel or nothin’ at all. Come inside,” he drops his pointer finger to the door handle. He pulls on it to find it locked. “Seriously?”

“I told you, I can’t be too safe!” You can help but think how cute he looks all flustered - shaking his head at you for being cautious in a neighborhood where you could probably scream your credit card number and no one would use it. If anything, the wealthy homeowners on this street might transfer you money when they see the state of your vehicle. 

“You’re eatin’ inside.” He says flatly. 

“I told you, I can’t. We aren’t allowed to do that. You’re a client, Mist - I mean. Sorry, I just can’t. We aren’t allowed.” You glance towards the clock on your dash. At this rate your break is going to be over before you finish eating. 

He jiggles the door handle again, as if he can convince the metal to bend and unlatch itself with just his sexiness alone. “You like rules, don’t ya?”

He’s got you there, you do enjoy following the rules. You nod and hum a noise in agreement. 

“Unlock the door, please,” his voice has changed, he’s being more commanding now. A deeper, huskier sound leaving his lips. The sound seems to latch onto something deep in your mind, strong fingers wrapping around the control center of your brain, guiding you to do his bidding. You blink the feeling away. 

“Mister-,” his eyes flash with darkness, “Sorry. I can’t. It wouldn’t be right to eat in your house, plus my break is almost over.”

Joel releases your door handle, raising his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose and lets out a breath, as he drops his hand back to the top of your vehicle an amused smirk flashes across his face. “Do you consider yourself to work in customer service?”

“Yes,” you say nervously.

“And isn’t the main rule of customer service that the customer is always right?” His lips form a tight line and a deep dimple carves into one of his tanned cheeks. Your brain flashes back to one of the videos you watched last night, a man sucking on a woman's nipples as he rubbed her clit, her arms and legs strapped to a padded table. He had a dimple, but he had nothing on Joel. 

“Yes,” you croak and then clear your throat gently, shifting in your seat at the fire building behind that bundle of nerves between your thighs. 

“Then unlock the door, darlin’ and eat inside.” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, turning and walking towards the house. He stops on the front step, opening the large glass front door. You follow, flip flops slapping on the concrete, carrying your powdered chicken noodle soup and plastic spoon up towards his fancy home. When you reach the threshold, he holds out his large hand palm up and you place the old, stained tupperware with your half eaten soup into it. He looks down at it and then back at you, eyes trailing along your body and it feels like he’s running a torch over you. “Is this all you have to eat?”

You nod, giving him a tight lipped smile. 

He cocks his head towards the kitchen and one pushed back curl that’s laced with a few greys falls into his eyes with the movement. In order to stop from pushing his loose curl back you squeeze your fists gently and head towards the stool you sat on yesterday. As your flip flop hits the tile you stop and look back towards your car nervously. “I, umm, I forgot my shoes.”

His large, warm palm comes to your lower back and he pushes you gently towards the kitchen. You sit as he transfers your soup into a matte black bowl and places it in the microwave. He opens a cupboard and pulls out a loaf of fresh bread, as you go to protest he flicks his eyes up to yours and something about the expression on his face tells you not to argue with him. He pops the two carefully cut pieces into the toaster. He breezes effortlessly around the kitchen for someone so broad and masculine. You didn’t realize someone making toast could be so sexy. The microwave beeps and he grabs a gold spoon from a drawer before wandering around the island, placing them both in front of you. His arm brushes yours as he pulls away and your heart flutters at his touch. He walks back around the kitchen island and grabs a glass. 

“Still or sparkling?” He says as if that’s just a normal question to ask when you get someone a glass of water. Just another thing that proves you don’t belong here. The toaster pops and you jump a little. He chuckles as he grabs the toast, slathering it with butter. “Still or sparkling, darlin’?” 

You breath hitches, he’s called you darlin’ twice now. Is that just that southern charm you hear about so often, or is it more? You shake the thought from your head, there’s no way someone like him is interested in someone like you. “Still is fine, you don’t have to trouble yourself.” 

You take a spoonful of soup, blowing on it gently before putting the spoon in your mouth. Joel is watching you in the same way he was yesterday. Assessing. Observing. Calculating. It feels like he’s looking into your very soul. He slides the plate of toast and then a glass of sparkling water over to you from across the island.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “You didn’t -”

He holds his hand up, stopping you in the same way he did yesterday. “I wanted to.”

You feel your cheeks redden and you have to look away as you take a bite of toast. He’s too handsome standing in the kitchen with the afternoon sun highlighting his features. He’s wearing a black dress shirt today, the top few buttons undone, accentuating the perfectly groomed salt and pepper hair on his chest. You swallow your bite of warm, salty, buttery toast, allowing your eyes to flutter closed at the delectable flavour, holding back a moan. 

Joel clears his throat and crosses his arms across his broad chest, “So how did ya get into cleanin’ houses?”

You look up at him through your lashes. Why is he being so nice to you and taking care of you? He apologized yesterday. And after you told him it was fine he left you a massive tip. He said he wants to do this, but why? He’s rich and handsome and you can probably safely assume that that icy blonde from yesterday was his girlfriend. Unless…could she possibly be a mistress? You decide that that must be it. She’s his mistress. He has a wife. He’s just like every other rich man, cheating on his beautiful and age appropriate wife with someone much much younger than him. He’s probably terrified that you might find out who his wife is and tell her. That tip was hush money.

“I’m saving money,” you say and then shake your head, willing the thoughts in your mind to calm down. “For law school.”

“That right?” He says, raising an eyebrow at you as you take another spoonful of soup.

“Yes, I want to be a lawyer. I graduated a semester early and needed some money before going back to university. Assuming I even get accepted. This job meant I could work part time so I could study to take the LSAT again and also make good money.” You take another bite of the toast, mainly to make yourself shut up. 

He watches you the entire time, nodding along, his eyes constantly assessing. “Take the LSAT again?” he asks.

“I passed it already and applied to schools but I haven’t heard back yet. Law school is pretty competitive, so I’m going to take it again and hopefully have a better mark for the next round of college applications.” You’re talking too much, you need to shut up and just eat, but Joel doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away. No one has ever listened to you like that, not even your parents.

“Next round?” He asks curiously. 

You feel your cheeks redden. You don’t want to admit to this obviously successful man in front of you that you probably won’t get accepted to any of the eight universities you applied to. “Yes. It’s competitive, and I probably won’t get in. So I’m preparing to be better the second time.”

“Where did you apply? If that’s not too forward of a question.”

“No, not too forward. Umm, a few places. Strength in numbers, I guess. Harvard, Yale, Columbia, Berkeley, Duke, University of Toronto, but I don’t think I’d survive a Canadian winter. I also applied at Notre Dame and University of Texas here in Austin.”

Joel laughs at you mentioning the Canadian winter and once you’re quiet, he looks down at his expensive dress shoes, “I, umm, I know some higher ups at UT Austin if you need me to put in a good word.”

You smile at him when he looks back up at you, “I don’t think that’s quite how it works, Joel. But thank you.”

The two of you are silent for a moment while you finish your first piece of toast. You glance up at him and he’s looking at you with that same hint of pride he had yesterday while you drank your water. He’s making you feel like eating toast is something to be proud of. You can’t explain it but his facial expression wraps around like a corset. Pulling its metaphoric laces and making you sit up taller, holding your head up higher. With just the shimmer in his deep brown eyes you feel like you could take on the world. You need to break the silence so you say, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he says, leaning back to rest on the countertop behind him. His arms uncross, his strong hands wrapping around the countertop on each side of his body. 

“What do you do for a living? To have all this?” You gesture around the house as you sip your sparkling water.

“A few things. I used to own a construction company, sold it a few years ago to retire but I got bored pretty quickly. Now I own a few properties, I rent them out.” You nod as you listen to him, eating your lunch. One hand rubs at his patchy, salt and pepper beard nervously before saying, “I also own a club.”

You let out a little giggle into your water glass, immediately praying that he doesn’t think that was you being rude. Of all the professions that could have come out of his mouth, owning a nightclub was the last thing you expected. Joel smiles at the sweet melodic sound leaving your lips and relief washes over you. “Why’s that so funny?” His voice is light at his inquiry. 

“It’s not,” you say after swallowing your water. He furrows his brows at you. “You just - I mean, I guess I don’t know you, but don’t seem like the nightclub type.”

“You’re right, you don’t know me. But you’re also right that I am not a nightclub type,” he states. Something about the way he says it makes you sense that that’s as far as you’re going to get with it, but you also realize that the club is probably how this man meets young women to bring home.

You put your spoon down and place your hands in your lap. “Can I umm, ask you something else?”

“Of course,” he repeats. 

“What’s with that little dinosaur toy on your coffee maker?”

He smiles and reaches over to grab it, rubbing his thumb along the faded and scuffed brown paint of the little toy. He looks down at it and a hint of sadness seems to fill his coffee and amber eyes as he looks at you. “My daughter, she umm, she got it for me from the prize box in Kindergarten after her mom -” he stops mid sentence, sadness lining his features. Joel’s not married, you roll your eyes at yourself internally for thinking the worst of him. And truthfully, you of all people know he’s not married. You clean his house, you’ve been in his bedroom, and there are no women's clothes. You’ve also been in all the spare bedrooms and there’s no chance another person lives here with him. He continues, choosing his words almost carefully, “Well, just after she was gone.”

“I’m sorry, Mister,” his eyes flash onyx for just a second, he looks lethally sexy and you swallow your words before starting again. “I’m sorry, Joel.”

“It was a long time ago,” he says, placing the dinosaur back. He runs his fingers through his salt and pepper curls, letting out a little sigh. There’s a shift in him, like suddenly the world is heavier. He tries not to let it show, and maybe most people wouldn’t notice, but you see it. The slight fall in his face, a little slump in the shoulders, a breath held for just a second too long. He clears his throat gently and says, “I’ll be in my office. Eat your lunch for me, please.”

Joel

Joel closes the door of his office and rests his forehead against the smooth wooden surface. He can’t remember how much he spent on these doors when he built the house, but he would set any door that separated him from you on fire if he had to. 

Get it together, Joel.

He closes his eyes and only sees you. The way your glossy, pink lips formed a little O as you blew on your soup. The way the gold plated metal spoon slid softly along your tongue. His cock twitches in his pants and he feels the urge to throw all the spoons in his house away. 

Great, you’re jealous of a spoon. 

He shouldn’t be home. He signed a contract, and more importantly, you signed a contract. In order to protect him and you there is to be no contact between the cleaner and the client. That’s what you consented to when you took your job at Maid Discreetly, and now he’s caused you to break that contract not once, but twice. But he cannot seem to get you out of his mind, and as he sat in a meeting at his club he couldn’t focus. You were here, cleaning his home in that form fitting white polo shirt and those black pants that hugged at your hips in all the right places, and he just had to know if you were as beautiful as he remembered. Just a quick peek, he convinced himself as he made up some bullshit excuse to leave. 

When he saw you sitting in your rusty SUV you looked so innocent and pure, you were more than beautiful. The afternoon sun lighting up your high cheekbones and slender, slightly upturned nose, it gave you an almost angelic glow that temporarily took his breath away. If he had to describe you in two words he would say that you were simply ravishing. For the first time in almost thirty years he wished he still had the calming comfort of that black felt cowboy hat. But that soft Stetson went with her because she loved it so much. 

As he caught his breath and looked at you from his garage, he was overcome with an urge to bruise and corrupt you. He’s a bad man for the thoughts he's been having about you. He can’t help himself, but even in his most twisted of fantasies, he’d never do anything you didn’t want him to. But, fuck, he’s sure he could mold you into exactly what he wants in a submissive. 

Joel isn’t new to the world of kink; he’s had many subs, all of whom have referred to him as Mister Miller. However, his name has never sounded so fucking sweet as it did coming off your lips. Those two little words leaving your pouty, pink lips feel like that first sip of whiskey after a long day, and it might kill him if he doesn’t make you his. 

He sighs into the white wood of the door before standing and walking to sit behind his desk. He drops into the soft leather chair and lets his head fall back onto the headrest and closes his eyes. What is it about you? Why can’t he stop thinking about you? You’re way too young. Way too sweet. Way too…sinless. And even though he can’t explain it, and he knows you don’t know it, you’re way too “exactly-what-is-going-to-ruin-his-entire-life”. 

You’re not someone he can just play with. No, he’s good at reading people, and you’re the kind of person that deserves being invested into. You’re also not someone who is going to stick around. You have dreams and well laid out plans on how you’re going to achieve them. He can’t cage you in, he’ll have to let you spread your wings and fly no matter how much he sees himself as the man he used to be reflected back in your eyes.  

He opens his eyes and pictures you kneeling in the corner, perfectly manicured hands that he pays for you to have done weekly folded on your lap as he works. He imagines calling you over with a curl of his fingers, you crawling across the plush carpet and resting your head on his lap as he responds to emails, takes calls, or plans events. He could reach down and run his fingers through your soft, silky hair as you nuzzled deeper into his lap with your cheek. “My perfect, sweet girl,” he’d hum.  

His body falls forward, forehead hitting the sturdy wooden desk with a thump. Jesus Christ, Joel. 

It was one thing when he only found you beautiful - he could live with being attracted to you, he could find a way around it or stuff that attraction down, maybe he’d find a new sub to distract himself with. That would be easy for him, but then you had to open your mouth, you had to speak so passionately about your future. Why couldn’t you just be pretty like all the other women he plays with? You might be one of the most driven people he knows: the way you push yourself, already planning for the next “no”. And that kills him, ruins him really that you are programmed to think there will automatically be a “no” and that you’ll have to endure another round of LSAT’s and college applications. You’re smart, and he wants to kill whoever made you feel like you need to push yourself this hard. 

His phone vibrates in his pocket; annoyance courses through his body until he sees his brother's name across the pristine screen of his newest iPhone Max. 

“Ya?” He says harshly. 

“Everything ok with the alarm?” 

Joel’s mind goes blank, “What?” 

Tommy is silent for a second before he responds slowly, “The alarm? You left in the middle of a meeting because of an alarm.” 

Joel shakes his head. Right, the alarm. The bullshit excuse he made up so he could leave to see you. “Ya, right. Ya, it’s fine. Got it all, umm, all fixed up. Should be back soon.”

“You ok, brother?” Tommy asks suspiciously. “You seemed, I dunno, distracted today.” 

“I’m fine,” Joel snaps. 

“Alright. Well, come back soon, pretty big night here and we need ya.” 

Joel hangs up without saying goodbye. He’s the owner, he knows it’s a big night, but he’s sort of busy having an existential crisis over possibly being in love with his house cleaner. Whoa, in love? Pump the fucking brakes. Joel’s heart stops beating for a second at the thought of it. He can’t possibly be in love; he doesn’t fall in love. No, he decides, it’s just because she’s new, and exactly my type, and it’s been a long time since I found someone that’s my type.

Just as he stands from his desk, he hears the hose outside turn on. You must be at the pool furniture part of your list. He takes this moment to sneak out of his own house, because he’s a weak man when it comes to you, apparently. He slips into the Italian leather front seat and lets the new car smell waft over him; he loves the smells of a new sports car and has never owned one long enough for it to stop smelling that way. It’s a matter of status to him. He takes a good hard look at himself in the rear view mirror. That’s enough now. For both of your sakes. Leave her alone. 

You 

After spraying down the pool furniture you rush inside to warm up. Seriously, who needs their pool stuff cleaned in the fucking winter? As you jog up the stairs to grab Joel’s freshly laundered sheets, you blow into your cupped palms. The warmth spreads from your frozen fingertips to your palms. Joel’s office is empty; he must have left while you were outside. Your brain swirls with unanswered questions as you pull the fitted sheet back onto his king size bed. Why would he come home? First of all, he knows you’re here this time and second of all, he knows he’s not supposed to be here. So why? And then there’s his calculating stare, always watching and usually with a flash of pride in his features. Did he come back here just to talk to you? Maybe even to get to know you? 

It’s safe to say that you’re more confused than ever, and you make a mental schedule of studying and reading to keep you busy later tonight so you won’t spend hours trying to google him again.

It takes way too much effort, and a silent promise to yourself to get back to the gym, but you manage to wrestle the oversized duvet back into its cover just as three o’clock rolls around. You jog down the wide, open staircase and your phone bings in your back pocket. Jamie’s name is splayed across your cracked screen, the sunset from your last trip to California shining back at you. 

What are you doing tonight? Want to make a bunch of money serving drinks topless?

You laugh to yourself. Truthfully, nothing Jamie asks you seems to surprise you, and some sort of odd job where you’re topless or in a sexy outfit is practically a guarantee as a condition of your friendship. As you reach for the black envelope on the kitchen island you text back. 

What?

You barely have the thick parchment of the envelope open when she responds, like she already had the text locked and loaded and was just waiting for you to try to fight her on it.  

Remember Laren? My cousin? She has a topless catering company and needs help tonight. It’s at some exclusive VIP poker game downtown. 4 hours, $300 + tips.

You respond as a thousand dollars falls out of the tip envelope. 

I’m in.

Jamie picks you up a few hours later and parks her blacked out Range Rover in the alleyway behind a shiny black building in the heart of downtown. You’re once again surrounded by wealth and success thanks to Jamie. The dress code tonight is a black pencil skirt, black heels, your tits, and a bow tie that Laren will give you. Speaking of whom, Laren is holding open a staff door for you and Jamie with her hip, waving the two of you into the warmth of the building. She pulls you both into a big hug, “Thank fuck! You two saved my ass tonight. Gotta love having friends and family with great tits!”

“You’re so weird,” Jamie says, brushing past her and into the building. You follow her in before Laren ushers you towards a service elevator. 

“They’ve already started, you’re part of the second shift. I think the first set of girls made about four hundred each in tips, helps if you serve the guys that are winning though. The first round of games is almost over, winners move on soon.”

“How were their tits though? As great as ours?” You joke. Underneath the calm and collected mask you’re wearing you are definitely nervous. All these strange men are going to see you half naked, you know nothing about poker or serving drinks. Your two friends laugh as the elevator opens to a small changing room. Girls from the first shift are putting their tops back on, handing the bow ties back to Laren who gives them to you and Jamie. 

She cocks her head towards a swinging door, “Just through there when you’re done. Go to the bartender for a tray and table assignment. Two girls per table and only six seats so it should be pretty easy. Make sure you smile!”

“Yes, ma’am,” you and Jamie say teasingly as you strip off your tops and bras. She flips you the middle finger as she heads back out to the poker game to supervise. The cool air of the room stiffens your nipples, nerves fluttering behind your navel as you put the bow tie on.

You overhear the girls that are leaving talking about the men, “Did you see the one with the curly hair at the table by the bar?”, one says. 

The other responds, “He was so fucking hot. Total daddy, I think he owns this place.” 

A third pipes up with, “Fuck, I should have flirted more. I could use a sugar daddy.” 

As they walk towards the elevator the first girl says, “Did you know that this is a sex club? Too bad we can’t go explore the rest.” They giggle as they leave and you take a steadying breath. You’re going to be topless, in a sex club. 

“Ready?” Jamie asks, adjusting her bowtie around her slender neck. 

“Did you know this is a sex club?”

She laughs, “Ya, it’s like an exclusive kink club apparently. Laren said it’s owned by two brothers who are insanely hot. Maybe I should see if they need a maid.” She winks at you as you both walk towards the swinging door. 

You step into the dimly lit room and find the bar directly across from you. After rolling your shoulders back and down, you cross the dark hardwood floor to the bar. Everything in the room is black or deep forest green. Black paint covers the walls, your heels click against the sturdy black wooden floors, even the poker tables and chairs are black. A pop of deep green velvet only along the seats and table tops. It looks soft, like one of those fuzzy blankets you have on your couch and you fight the urge to run your hand across one of the empty tables as you pass. 

The bartender hands Jamie a tray first and then quietly tells her to go to the table in the far right corner. She sways her hips like the sultry goddess she is as she walks to the table. Relief floods through you when you notice that none of the men have raised their eyes, they’re focused intently on the card game. This isn’t some sleazy club like you initially thought when you heard ‘sex club’ leave the lips of the other servers. You relax a little at being able to just be yourself tonight, maybe a bit more naked than you’d usually be but yourself nonetheless. 

You take the black marble serving tray as the bartender points to the table closest to the bar. The curly hair man that the women were talking about in the change room faces away from you. Your heart leaps in your chest. Joel. As you approach the other server standing behind the table, he starts to turn his head. Time stops, your heart speeds up, and it starts to feel simultaneously too hot and too cold in the room all at the same time. It’s almost as if he’s turning his head in slow motion. As you catch his side profile he has the same hooked nose, in the dim light of the room you can’t see any greys along his temples and he doesn’t appear to have a beard. After what feels like an hour, his eyes finally meet yours and you let out a breath, although you aren’t sure if it’s disappointment or relief leaving your lungs. It’s not Joel Miller.

“Mind bringin’ me another Macallan neat, sweetheart?” His eyes stay locked on yours as he smiles at you sweetly. He holds the crystal glass out for you and you take it with a soft ‘yes, sir.’

Something about those eyes, and the way they flash darkly at being called sir, feels all too familiar. In the time it takes for you to take the six or seven steps to the bar you convince yourself that it’s just your brain seeing him everywhere. You tell yourself that when you bring this drink back he’ll look nothing like the man you caught knuckles deep in a woman as she cried out, nothing like the man who was so gentle and sweet, yet slightly bossy and commanding with you this afternoon. 

That’s definitely it, you say to yourself with finality. You’re just cock drunk over a cock you’ll never have. 

The bartender pops the whiskey open and the hair on the back of your neck stands up, you can feel someone looking at you. Almost feel their stare heating the right side of your body. It feels as if all of your exposed skin is being covered by the gaze of whomever is looking at you, shielding you protectively from the view of the other men. The bartender's eyes flick to the corner of the room and then back to you while he hands you the drink. The shift of his gaze confirms that you weren’t imagining it, there is someone looking at you. You place the whiskey on your tray and spin cautiously to the right, stopping dead in your tracks when you lock eyes with Joel Miller. He looks dangerous, sitting at a low table along the wall, his face just barely illuminated by a single candle on the dark wooden table top. His fingers are laced together, forearms of his black dress shirt resting on the knees of his black dress pants. His lips are pressed in a thin, disapproving line. 

He stalks over to you and you wish your tray was empty so you could shield your tits from him. The way he moves is almost menacing, like a jaguar stalking his prey, his eyes are almost black in the low light of the room. Your nipples stiffen under his intense gaze, your mouth fills with saliva and you gulp loudly. You stand frozen, the whiskey for that man you had convinced yourself isn’t related to Joel forgotten about on your tray. He plucks the drink off the marble slab, the glass looking like one of those disposable paper cups you have in your bathroom in his hand. He takes two long strides and drops the glass beside the man. 

“Thanks,” he starts to coo, a ten dollar bill clasped between two fingers. After realizing it’s not you, he adds a confused, “Brother?” 

He tries to pull the money back, but Joel is quicker. Snatching it from his brother's grasp and tucking it into the breast pocket of his dress shirt. Joel turns back to you and steps in closely, your lower back hitting the cold marble bartop and you gasp, arching your back and naked breasts towards Joel. His jaw flexes as he fights to keep his eyes level with yours. 

“What are you doin’ here?” he says in a harsh whisper. 

“I’m working,” it comes out a lot more bratty and defiant than you intend it to. 

“Not here you ain’t.”

You take a small step forward, your hard nipples lightly grazing the soft fabric of his black dress shirt. “I’m not leaving.” 

His hand circles your bicep and you twist out of his grasp. “You’re makin’ a scene, darlin’.” 

“You are, Joel. I’m just trying to make money.” He grabs you more firmly this time, not tight enough to hurt you but enough for you to know he means business. 

What’s his problem anyway? He doesn’t own you. What you do outside his home is none of his business. He can boss you around via an app every other week, but that’s it. That’s where it ends. You glance desperately over at Jamie to find her back to you as she speaks softly with a man who’s waiting for the next round of poker. Her hand grazes his bicep flirtatiously, she makes it look too easy to get what she wants from men. Joel guides you towards the staff changing room, keeping your body in the dark edges of the room. He’s breathing heavily through his nose, like an angry dragon and you’re honestly surprised smoke isn’t billowing out of his nostrils. 

In the bright lights of the changing room you feel more exposed than ever. You want to lift your tray, but in order to prove to him that you don’t care what he or anyone thinks you don’t. In fact, you stand up taller, holding your head high and pushing your chest out. It’s infinitesimal but he looks down just for a nano second. You smirk when his eyes come back to you. 

“Put a shirt on.” 

“If none of the other girls have to put a shirt on then neither do I.” You pop your hip out and pull your arm free from his large calloused hand and rest it on your hip. 

“Don’t fight me on this.” 

“I’m not fighting. You are. So all those other girls are fine, but I’m not? Why? My tits aren’t big enough for you?” 

“That’s not,” he pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a breath with his eyes closed. When he reopens them his eyes land softly on yours. “I just need you not to be here. Please.” 

Bright red anger sparks along the sides of your eyes. Seriously, who does he think he is? “You aren’t the boss here, Mister Miller.” 

“Do NOT call me that.” His neck flushes the same colour as your vision. You stand your ground, eyes narrowing into glaring slits. What is his aversion to being called Mister Miller, and why does it turn you on a little bit to rile him up when you use it?

“You aren’t my boss or my dad, Joel. You can’t make me leave or tell me what jobs I can or can’t take.” You’ve figuratively dug your heels in, you aren’t leaving. He can’t make you. Only Laren or whoever owns this sex club can ask that of you. “You can’t kick me out like you own the place.” 

“Actually,” he says darkly, “I can.” 

“What?” You say through a nervous breath, eyes widening. 

“I own the place. So I can kick you out, and I am kicking you out. Get your shirt.” 

Your shoulders fall slightly. You feel about two feet tall with the realization that he doesn’t want you here. This afternoon you thought that maybe he cared, he seemed like he cared, and now you’re half naked and he wants you to leave. He watches as you unclasp your bow tie and slide on your bra and shirt. 

You look over at Jamie’s clothes and it dawns on you that you didn’t drive here. Your face falls as you blink around the room and then towards Joel. 

“What’s wrong?” he says through thick concern.

“Nothing. I just…” 

He steps towards you, he’s so broad, his presence so large that you start to feel almost claustrophobic when he’s this close, but you never want him to step away. You’d happily let him smother you with his innate Joel-ness. “You just what?”

“I didn’t drive here,” you say quietly, looking down at your hands. Your left thumb nail immediately finds purchase along the cuticle of your right thumb. 

His strong palm cups your chin, lifting until he’s looking at you again. You’re becoming more and more used to the amount of eye contact Joel seems to make. He seems constantly dialed in on you when you’re in the same room.

Yes, I would be very happy to let him smother me. 

The harsh lines of his face soften, “I can get you a car. They’ll meet you at the staff door.” 

You nod into his hand and find it exceedingly hard to stay mad at him when he looks at you that way. He drops your chin and turns his large, broad body back towards the swinging door. He looks over his shoulder and says, “I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me.” His voice is soft and sad, almost as if he’s full of remorse and just hoping you won’t hate him before heading back into the poker game. Any bit of anger is flushed from your system, replaced with the disappointment of having to leave wherever Joel is.  

You drag your feet to the elevator and then towards the staff exit. You let the heavy door close behind you with a loud bang as a blacked out SUV pulls up. The driver says your first and last name as he opens the back door for you. You look towards the black building one last time. 

“I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me.” 

JMKink is written in shiny metallic black on the door and all the information of the evening hits you at once. JMK. Joel Miller Kink. Joel Miller, insanely handsome millionaire, owns a sex club.

Next Chapter

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[gabbytvclarke]

The dog and the postwoman PART THREE: I don't want you, I crave you

Part one here! ♥ Part two here! ♥ Part four here!

• Summary: Arthur Hill invites y/n to join himself, George, and of course Arthur TV on a platform roulette video. Arthur gets a little braver. • Pairing: Arthur TV x female!reader (Also friend!George Clarke and friend!Arthur Hill) • Fluff with VERY SLIGHT smut, friends to something more... I thought I'd splice in some slight jealous!Arthur too for fun • Warnings: alcohol, swearing, innuendoes, brief vomit mention, slight cheekiness/NSFW mentions • Word count: 12,889 words Note 1: Arthur Hill will be either referred to by his full name or just ‘Hill’ again Note 2: I picked the place at random and researched a few pub names and places, I'm sorry if some details are inaccurate!

♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥

It had been almost three weeks since Chris uploaded the pub golf video, three weeks since the shipping between y/n and Arthur begun, three weeks since #y/nTV began circulating on social media amongst the UK YouTube commentary fans. Y/n and Arthur continued to speak as ‘just friends’, or at least that’s what they told anyone who asked, but felt themselves getting closer and closer. They hadn’t seen each other in person since the morning after they met as their schedules were busy, but they played a couple of Minecraft sessions off camera together and began texting daily.

------

Y/n is only about four minutes away from the station where Arthur Hill, George Clarke, and cameraman James are waiting. She's running late, but late is never quite as perfected as Arthur TV himself.

In comparison to Chris’s shoot, y/n feels more at ease for today. She’s not quite sure whether it’s because there are fewer people and a lack of an uncomfortable uniform, or if her nerves are just deafened by the thrill of seeing Arthur again. Her mind buzzes with intrigue on where the adventure will take her today.

From a more predictable 27 minutes away, Arthur’s mind is also racing. Not just because he’s rushing, weaving around commuters like a chased gazelle, but because he is also just as excited to see y/n. Beautiful, hilarious y/n. The girl he’s missed since day two of officially knowing her. Her sweet soft voice plays on loop in his head from their Minecraft sessions, which had lasted late into the night and when hushed voices were a must. He too has enjoyed reading the viewers’ speculations and support.

His favourite recurring comments are oddly from the ‘y/nTV deniers’; who claim that he couldn’t possibly be into y/n as he touches her and jokes with her a lot like he does with his other friends. ‘If he really was into her, he’d be shy’ is their so-called proof. He finds it amusing how they think that that’s evidence, when in fact physical touch is his love language. Sure, he loves his friends and touches them a lot and sure, y/n is his friend, but his love for her is different. Love. He hasn’t said it out loud to anyone yet, not even to himself, but he’ll very soon realise that what he feels for her definitely love.

“There she is!” A beaming George calls as y/n scurries to the boys. He gives her a quick gentle hug before she scoots to Hill to give him one too.

“Hey bestie,” Hill grins, “We haven’t started filming yet. We usually start rolling when we see Arthur making his grand entrance through the crowd.” She pictures his wide eyed expression and athletic body gliding through her fellow train riders, finding the image hilarious. She introduces herself to James and vice versa in the meantime. “Do you know where we’re going yet?” She then asks the group.

“Nah, we wait until we start filming before we find out.” George replies, as Hill’s head dances around while he looks for the disorganised creator. “Ah, he’s just texted. He’ll be here in just a few minutes,” George confirms. Just a few minutes, y/n tells herself in her head. Those minutes feel like hours, that is until a wavy fringe can be seen bouncing amongst the flocks of people in his way. The recording officially begins.

“Fashionably late as usual, we wouldn’t have it any other way,” Hill starts. He turns to the camera and introduces the video as well as his ‘co-stars’, leaving y/n for last as the new guest. While he goes in depth about the concept of the series, Arthur greets the other two. He and George dap and bicker about the agreed meeting time. Arthur then turns to y/n and pulls her into a gentle hug. She can smell his aftershave again and he can smell her familiar perfume. “Hey you,” he utters quietly, a smile evident in his velvet voice.

“We meet again,” y/n replies as they move away from their short embrace, his stubble softly grazing past her cheek as he stands straight. They share a sweet gaze before both realising they are in fact not the only two people in existence. The rouletters learn their destination is Aylesford, Kent. With a dangerous 6 minutes before departure, they rush to grab their travel drinks and make their way to their first train.

Y/n enters the carriage first and nabs herself a window seat. The boys are still making their way down the aisle when Arthur calls shotgun for the other window seat, despite being behind Hill, making sure he sits opposite y/n. Hill instead sits to y/n’s left, George situates himself next to Arthur. They all crack open their drinks of choice as James sits beside the four, filming away. Y/n made sure she had a bigger breakfast before she left, knowing full well how hammered the boys get in these videos. They drink and chatter amongst themselves, which mostly means that George and Hill gang up on Arthur, while y/n laughs but looks at him with empathy.

The train passes a field full of sheep and the group begin telling as many sheep related jokes and puns as possible. “I’m woolly looking forward to exploring today,” Hill attempts.

"Really? I'm feeling a little sheepish" George adds, pulling a smug face towards the camera.

"Sheers everyone!" Arthur joins in, holding up his drink. George and y/n join in the cheersing with a 'waaaay'.

"I don't get it." Hill mutters quietly. George acts out using a razor, doing an impression of the motorised noise, giving Hill intense eye contact.

"Sheeps get sheered," Arthur says, accompanying George's actions, his eyebrows low as he too looks at Hill, almost with disappointment.

"I'm baaaaaffled that you didn't get that Hilly," y/n chimes in with a smirk. Arthur smiles proudly, a swift bounce in his eyebrows in amusement as he cheerses her again.

They approach their first changeover stop and follow Hill, who holds out his phone like it's physically dragging them to their next platform. They have plenty of time before this train leaves, so they don't rush this time around. James points the camera to George as he walks ahead with Hill, they mostly discuss Hill's already slightly tipsy state as the camera also catches 'y/nTV' behind them through their shoulders.

"I was wondering if you'd like to play a horror game with me on my second channel," Arthur asks, "everyone's begging me to have you on something of mine." Of course y/n accepts. They still have plans for y/n to guest star on the Bach and Arthur podcast, but they're still working through their current pre-planned episode schedule and Bach is on vacation. Arthur leans into y/n's ear, “I’m so glad you’re here by the way,” he whispers.

“Me too,” she replies with a genuine smile, internally bracing herself, “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me out for that coffee!”

“You’ve… what?” Arthur forgets to walk for a moment, before his wide eyes dart to her.

“This way you two!” Hill calls out, the pair not realising that they’re walking the wrong way. They awkwardly laugh and scurry closer to George, Hill, and James.

Before the pair can continue their conversation, James points the camera to them. Arthur thinks quick on his feet and pretends that they were discussing something else. “Personally I think Arthur’s going to throw up first.” He states about Hill.

“It’s definitely one of you two,” George replies with a grin peering over his shoulder at the pair, “y/n in particular was wobbly as fuck at the pub golf!”

“If I remember correctly, your team came last Clarkey.” Y/n quips, sneering. George pretends he's fainting in response, letting out a high pitched sigh.

“This one guys!” Hill interjects, pointing his phone towards their next train. James moves to the back of them to film the group boarding the carriage from behind. Y/n kindly offers the window seat to the others, which Hill takes. George just shrugs and sits next to him. Arthur gestures to let y/n take a window seat again and then plops down next to her.

“Right then,” Hill starts, plonking the carrier bag on the table, still containing beverages and passing a can to each contender, “Drink up darlings!”

Y/n examines the contents, “God, I didn’t realise the alcohol count is 5%, we’ll be dead before we get there.” She states with a nervous laugh.

“Turns out y/n is the one who’s sheepish,” George points out, with a wink to the camera before his eyes go wide, “editor, keep all the sheep jokes in so that makes sense!”

As Hill and George are in deep conversation with the camera solely pointed at them both, y/n gestures to the arm rest between her and Arthur. “Mind if I move this?” She asks him quietly.

“Oh, sure!” He responds with an equally low, but enthusiastic voice as he lifts the arm rest out of the way. She shoots him over a faint thank you as they both turn their attention to the boys. Y/n rests her hands on the seat, either side of her thighs. While they listen to the Elvis impersonations George and Hill make back and forth for some reason, Arthur too drops his hand down by his side. Placing his hand fanned out on the chair, his pinky finger gently touched y/n’s. She looks down at the small connection for a brief moment, then shifts her gaze up to Arthur’s face only to see his chocolate eyes are already on her. His loving smile confirms it, it was a deliberate move. She shoots him a small grin back but immediately looks away so he can’t see the redness burning on her cheeks.

“How far are we now lads?” She asks kindly, as if her mind wasn't racing. Hill narrows his eyes at the digital notice from across the carriage, his lips moving slightly as he reads.

“Two more stops,” he confirms, “then we’re at lovely… where are we going again?” he lets out an awkward giggle before George chokes on his drink.

“Aylesford,” he answers between a mix of chuckling and coughing, wiping the spill off his lips. Arthur just grins and shakes his head as y/n laughs from behind her hand.

Arthur goes to grab his drink to take a sip, being right handed, but he places his hand back down so he’s in contact with y/n again and reaches instead with his left hand. Luckily it goes unnoticed, except for y/n of course. She glances to Arthur and can see a red tint in his cheeks. It could well be the alcohol, but it’s most likely the touching. It’s barely a pinky-promise and already the two are melting in their seats.

As the train slows down for the gang’s last changeover stop, they can’t help but notice the large amount of people waiting on the platform. “I think that’s the platform we need for the next train.” Hill murmurs with dread.

“Is there an event on or something?” Arthur asks.

“Hell yeah! They’re waiting to see us four legends, and y/n.” George jokes with a smirk. Y/n turns to him with a sad face, poking out her bottom lip for extra effect.

“Might be a bit packed.” Hill worries out loud. As the train slows to a halt, they all collect their empty cans and bin them on the way off the carriage. They head over to the other platform and join the herd. “The next train’s in half an hour if you’d all prefer to wait.” Hill offers.

“I’m pretty hungry, not gonna lie, so I’d rather stand for a couple of minutes and get there sooner and grab food.” George complains. James puts the camera in his bag, as they all figure it’s too crowded to film yet.

“I didn’t realise you guys ate proper meals on these videos, I thought it was drink drink drink.” Y/n points out.

“We usually eat shortly after arriving,” Arthur gently explains, “that’s why we seemingly go from zero to a hundred drunk towards the end, because after a while our lunches wears off.” Y/n nods, genuinely interested.

Arthur places his hand on the small of her back, his lips right up to her ear. “It’s because George gets really pissy when he’s hungry.” George doesn’t hear as he’s too busy frowning at his phone, googling the nearest restaurant from the Aylesford station. Even though Arthur whispers to her a lot, y/n still feels flustered over his warm breath blowing down her neck.

Their next train pulls up and the hoards of people clamber on. The gang all manage to squeeze themselves on but are have no choice but to stand by the doors. No one else is stood with them there, thanks to other passengers using the space for a couple of suitcases and a bike. Arthur reaches his hand behind y/n to hold one of the stanchion poles, standing close to her to keep her steady as the train moves.

James whips a smaller camera out, filming the four as they awkwardly stand in silence. Hill jokingly shifts his wide eyes around, all of them purposefully not speaking or engaging in eye contact for comedic effect. The train jerks around at one point and y/n instinctively grabs onto Arthur’s T shirt to ground herself, one by on his belly and the other by his back. She can’t help but feel Arthur’s firm torso against her knuckles as she grips the fabric. She immediately apologises and re-steadies herself, letting go. “You’re all good,” he chuckles shyly, secretly wishing she’d grab him again. His grin shrinks into a small side smile as he leans down. “You can hold me anytime you need.” He whispers cheekily, his lips grazing her ear. Thankfully the camera was put away again by this point. She can’t believe her ears. Those drinks must be getting to his head already, he drank more cans than the others did on the last train, after all. He stands straight again, still smiling. She tries looking nonchalantly out the window, as if what he said isn't driving her crazy.

“We’re stopping here,” George grumbles as the train slows down. The camera is back out and filming as the four step off and make their way to the exit.

“Right, so,” Hill speaks to the camera casually.

“Riiiiiight soooo!” George interjects immediately, mocking Arthur’s YouTube intro. Hill then starts doing it too.

“Riiiight soooo, um, we’re here in Aylesford, um-”

“OK, I do not go ‘um’ THAT much!” Arthur calls out as they all follow Hill’s lead.

“You do sometimes” y/n replies while cackling. George nods in agreement.

“Oh, shush you!” Arthur huffs with a grin, poking her side while Hill tells the audience which pub they’re heading to first.

However before they actually go there, they first stop off at a fish and chips shop just 15 minutes from the station, to shut George up. George gets himself a large portion of chips, Hill and James get mediums, and Arthur shares a large portion with y/n. They all walk an eat off camera as they slowly make their way to the first pub: The Chequered Inn. The walk is mostly silent while they feast, until they're all finished and the camera instinctively comes back on.

"Watch this," George giggles to the camera, evil written all over his face. He rushes quietly behind Hill and steps on the heal of his shoe, making his foot pop out and his clean white sock stamping on the concrete floor. "Oh fucking hell!" He yells with his head thrown back, the camera zooming in on Hill's now stained sock, before zooming back out and capturing the other three laughing. "Come here!" Hill shouts as George immediately runs away, almost getting them both ran over as they sprint across the road.

"They're like children," y/n chuckles, her eyebrows raised in surprise at the display. The camera is on them now, as they stand like embarrassed parents watching their sons fight.

"Yeah, children with weird shaped and sized heads." Arthur adds with a closed mouth smile.

"What?" Hill calls out as the boys walk back to the adults, both out of breath.

"Nothing!" Arthur replies angelically.

They all enter the first pub, Hill ordering a Guinness for each of the four of them, as y/n and George find them a table. They spot a booth and slide in. James stands with the two Arthurs up at the bar, hoping to capture any awkward interactions with the barmen.

"Giving the people what they want, are we?" George whispers to y/n with a smirk.

"What d'you mean?" Y/n asks, genuinely confused.

"Don't tell me you haven't seen the swarm of 'y/n and Arthur' posts sweeping the nation!" He responds.

Y/n slowly nods and begins to giggle. "I honestly didn't realise we were being weird, I'll try and make things less awkward between us." As they sit in their booth whispering to each other, they're very unaware of how close they're sitting. George with his arm draped over the back of y/n's part of the rounded booth chair, leaning over and face close to hers, only so they can hear each other over the general clatter of the pub.

Arthur glances over from the bar as Hill pays for their drinks. He sees the close proximity between the girl he has feelings for and his best friend and he begins to doubt whether or not she actually likes him, or whether she's close with all her guy friends. "Ready?" Hill asks him, slightly firmly due to how long he's been waiting for Arthur to grab the other two pints. Arthur unclenches his jaw, mutters a quick apology and joins Hill in bringing the drinks over.

George moves himself around to the end of the booth, allowing y/n to follow suit as the Arthurs slide in, and James sits on the other end. As Hill explains what 'splitting the G' is, George moves his arm so it's on his lap and no longer behind y/n. They all watch as Hill is first to drink, the foam landing almost perfectly as they cheer. Arthur is next, but he just over drinks it. He tries protesting but the other boys won't allow it.

"So close Arth!" y/n sighs teasingly, patting him on the back gently. Arthur snaps his head round to narrow his eyes at her playfully as he pushes her pint closer as if to challenge her. She gives it a go but massively undershoots it, not drinking near enough.

"Sooo close [nickname]!" Arthur mocks, purposefully quivering his lower lip as he looks at her with exaggerated pity. He rubs small circles on her lower back, pretending it's part of the sympathy act when really he just wants the closeness. Y/n laughs as she buries her head in her hands, also overplaying her reaction. She's secretly enjoying the contact though, it feels natural and almost domestic.

As the attention is on George and his split attempt, Arthur is unaware of the slight frown in his face. Hill leans to Arthur's ear, "You can probably stop rubbing her back now," he whispers with a cheeky grin. Arthur, who didn’t realise he's still doing it, casually drops his hand down from y/n's back, resting on the seat instead. He keeps his composure the whole time however, as to not draw attention. George perfectly splits the G and raises his glass as the gang applaud him, Arthur only donning a small smile.

George gets a phone call and attempts to have the conversation inside, but he can’t hear very well and so excuses himself and heads outside. Now he’s out the way, y/n sees an opportunity to go to the toilet. “I promise it’s not to vomit!” She giggles.

“It’s not pub golf, feel free to spew as much as you need.” Hill explains with a sneer, a sentence that’s oddly comforting. Once she’s out of sight, Hill examines James as his full attention’s on his phone, after having recorded enough clips in this pub. Knowing the coast is clear, he then turns to his fellow Arthur. “What was up with you earlier then?” He asks, a worried tone with a hint of accusation.

“What?” Arthur responds, his gaze darting away from where he last saw y/n and snapping to Hill.

“You, earlier. Staring at y/n and George,” Hill continues, looking around to ensure neither of the two return, “there’s no way you think THAT'S happening. Come on man.”

Exhaling slowly, Arthur’s shoulders relax. “Fine, they looked a little cozy and I didn’t like it.” He murmurs, feeling embarrassed at his own insecurities. “Y/n is absolutely George’s type too and it would kill me if it turns out she likes him.”

“Arthur mate, you’re so smart most of the time, but hear me out on this. You’re being dumb.” Hill puts his arm around him and jostles him a little, staring at him sternly in his eyes. “She is so into you.”

Arthur looks to Hill, surprised to hear someone say those words in a serious tone. Usually he didn't believe others when they told him before, because it seemed like they were just teasing him.

“You’re probably just anxious because you have a crush on her, and he’s one of your best friends. Our thoughts can be cruel to us sometimes.” Hill adds as he squeezes Arthur’s shoulder.

Arthur looks down to the table, slowly nodding as he feels almost ashamed for his worries before. He feels guilty for mistrusting y/n and George, and was definitely letting his worries get to him. “Thanks, you’re right, I think.” He chuckles sheepishly. Deep down though, he won't believe it truly unless she tells him or makes a bold move to show him.

Y/n returns to the table with her usual sweet smile. “You two look very serious,” she starts, “everything OK?”

Hill sees an opportunity to be a pain in the ass, “Arthur’s just worrying over silly things.” He responds with a smirk. Arthur burns his eyes into Hill.

“Worried? What’re you worrying about Arth?” Her happy expression sours as she dons a concerned look. Hill excuses himself and goes to the toilet, patting Arthur on the back as he leaves.

“I’m fine, Arthur’s just being a dick as usual.” Arthur shyly explains. Y/n’s smile creeps back.

“That I can believe, but you didn’t seem yourself earlier,” she replies, turning her body to face him more and leaning closer, “are you sure you’re OK?” Her voice low and laced with care.

Arthur thinks about being honest, about explaining that he got himself worked up over nothing, but he spots George returning from outside out the corner of his eye.

“I’m OK, thanks though y/n. Just a little tired I think, I’ll be fine after a few more drinks though.” He squints his eyes shut as he shoots her a smile, a weight further lifting from his shoulders.

“You alright Clarkey?” Y/n asks as he scoots back in next to her.

"Yeah, just my mum." He replies with a friendly smile. Arthur looks at George, then to y/n, and is internally slapping himself for seeing anything other than a brother-sister dynamic between the two. He finds a new found confidence, although that could be also due to the Guinness from earlier taking effect.

"Oh, was she telling you how great I was last night?" Hill quips with a wink as he rejoins them too.

"You disgust me." George retorts with a low grumbly voice, pretending to be disappointed.

As they exit the pub one by one, Hill addresses the group; "Hope you guys are wearing comfy shoes, as this'll be quite a trek." They all nod, not minding a long walk. However, the next pub, Little Gem, is only a one minute walk away. In fact, it was caught on camera in the background while Hill made the joke. They all burst out laughing 56 seconds later when the adorable little sign is spotted, and they all enter.

The downstairs area is quite busy, so Arthur and y/n head to find a table upstairs while George volunteers to help Hill bring the drinks over this time. They spot a cozy corner and Arthur pulls a chair out for y/n, then taking a seat next to her. "This place is cute." Y/n remarks, her voice beginning to wobble, wearing a smile as she looks around the place.

"You'll fit right in then." Arthur states, beaming with rosy cheeks. Y/n turns to him in surprise, not expecting another bold statement from him already.

"Hmm?" She hums, her eyebrows high, the corners of her mouth slightly curving up as she slowly realises what he said.

"'Little Gem'. That could even be your nickname," Arthur adds. Y/n stares into his eyes, which are adoringly heavy as he leans in closer and continues, "because you're a rare find and your e/c eyes are beautiful, like gems."

Her mouth falling open slightly, her stomach flipping, all she can utter is: "Arthur..." under her breath. He chuckles in response, turning redder.

"So beautiful." He repeats quietly as he pecks a kiss to her cheek, right by her ear. His eyes still on her, watching her nervously stutter as she finds herself in a fit of small giggles. He figures that if he had misread the situation, she’ll shut him down nicely, but she hadn't and that’s why he can’t stop smiling.

“This is a quaint little corner.” George declares, snapping them out of their intimate peace. He sets their pints down as Hill follows, James filming from behind them. The guys take their seats. "Little Gem is the smallest pub in Aylesford." Hill informs his friends.

“To the Little Gem!” Arthur cheers, raising his glass, the others clinking theirs together as they echo him. “The most beautiful thing in existence!” He continues, shooting y/n a very sly wink before taking a few swigs. George and Hill figure it’s just Arthur being his odd self and don’t think too much about it. Y/n on the other hand can’t handle it, her face heating up.

“God y/n you’re bright red, you struggling already again?” George jabs, causing her to get the giggles again.

“Yeah, this is worse than your pub golf tolerance!” Arthur chimes in, making her cheeks burn more.

“I’m fine! There must be something in the Aylesford air or something!” She retorts, all flustered.

“Didn’t help that the first lot of drinks on the train had such high alcohol levels to be fair.” Arthur chuckles.

“And it’s very warm and romantic in this snug little corner.” Hill adds, wiggling his eyebrows.

After drinking their beers and engaging in general chitchat, Hill excuses himself and hurries off. The three speculate that he's soiled himself or wet himself, or both. George looks over the railings to see Hill has ordered a large tray of shots and watches him carrying it up the stairs. "Oh god, what's he planning?" George mutters to the pair as they watch Hill approach the table.

Once he's sat down, he announces: "I thought seeing as we're the only ones up here, we can play a cheeky game of 'never have I ever'!"

"Yaaaay." Arthur cheers quietly, the other two looking excited.

"OK I'll start," Hill begins, with a smirk, "Never have I ever... shagged a surfboard." George and Hill dart their eyes to Arthur.

"Y-You can't do ones that are only aimed at one person!" Arthur whines, half laughing, half surprised. Y/n stares at Arthur with a mix of shock and amusement, annoyed that she somehow hadn't heard this story yet.

"Oh yes we can!" George interjects with a cheeky giggle.

"Arthur, your turn." Hill directs.

"OK," Arthur pauses for thought, "OK, never have I ever filmed a video with someone I didn't like." A couple of 'oooh's murmur across the table and everyone takes a shot.

"Y/n! Really!" Arthur yells, the drinks already ramping up his volume, "I can't imagine you hating anyone!"

"I don't! I don't hate them, we just didn't gel!" Y/n cries in defense.

"You'll have to spill the tea later" George chuckles, giving her a gentle nudge with his elbow.

"OK, never have I ever..." Y/n starts, "... Gave a girl the ick because I was IDed on a date." She grins at Arthur.

"Oi! We said no obviously targeted ones!" Arthur shouts, pointing his finger at her as he watches her laugh.

"Who's we?" Hill asks mischievously.

"Yeah, you're the only one bitchin'." George teases in a condescending tone, his arms crossed.

"How did you know about that?" Arthur whispers to y/n, a playful smile across his face.

"I saw you talk about it, I think in a video with Cam." She explains, still amused.

"Anyway!" George calls, eager to take his turn. He looks at the other three players, a certain glint in his eye. "Never have I ever really liked someone I filmed a video with."

Y/n takes a shot without hesitation. The two Arthurs both ask if he means having a crush on someone, which George nods before downing a shot himself. Arthur hesitates, then also takes one.

"Really?" Hill enquires, clasping his hands together like a movie villain. "Anyone want to fess up?" The three all yell 'no', almost in unison.

The game continues for a while, turning into a game of 'who can get the others drunk the quickest', all picking specific declarations to target the others, but none of them taking the game too far or revealing actual secrets. Once the shots are all gone, the recording stops while the four give the alcohol a chance to sit in their systems, before heading off to the next pub.

As they head out, all but George are slightly beyond tipsy. "OK guys, this pub is actually quite a long walk away." Hill warns, before winking at the camera. He leads the group, George right behind him scrolling through his phone. Y/n and Arthur walk side by side. "I can't believe how many weird experiences you've had," Arthur chuckles as he looks at her, more interested in her than ever. The game revealed some truths that Arthur hadn't learned yet.

"I guess I'm a wild one!" She chuckles as she shrugs.

Arthur wraps his arm around her and pulls her closer to him as they walk, he leans down with his lips right by her ear. "I'd love to see your wild side" He whispers, then easing his grasp.

Before she can react, Hill makes a sudden turn to The Bush, the third pub, which is only a two minute walk from Little Gem. "Where are you- oh my god." George groans. Hill laughs, holding his arms outwards as if he'll get an applause.

"'The Bush'?" Arthur asks with a hint of immaturity.

"Please don't use this pub as another nickname for me." Y/n quips, just loud enough for Arthur to hear, making him throw his head back with an unapologetically loud laugh.

The noise of the pub paired with the copyrighted music leads the group to head out to the pub garden. They take their seats at one of the tables under a large parasol, out of the English sun, just a few hours before it begins setting.

Hill asks y/n this time to help him carry out the drinks, some fruity ciders. They head back inside where there's already a small queue.

"So, you enjoying your platform roulette debut so far?" Hill asks.

"I'm loving it so much, thanks again for the invite."

"Good good, though I doubt you're enjoying it as much as Arthur," He teases.

She narrows her eyes, confused. "What?"

"You and Arthur, the flirting. It's cute honestly," Hill explains, y/n looks down embarrassed, completely unaware of how obvious they were being, "I don't think I've ever seen him this chirpy."

"Really?" She asks, a smile growing.

"Well, apart from your pub golf video and its unseen bits," he continues as y/n shyly picks at her fingers, "Arthur's the happiest person I've ever met, and you managed to make him even happier. Wow."

Meanwhile outside, George taps Arthur on the back while he scrolls through emails on his phone. "Mate, you need to ask her out." George states, point blank.

"Who?" Arthur attempts, even trying to look confused by frowning. George rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

"You know exactly who I mean," George snaps back, Arthur exhales and drops his shoulders, "what are you waiting for?"

"I don't know, I'm just nervous that she's not into me. I don't want to ask her out and she says no and doesn't want to even be my friend-"

"You really think she doesn't like you back?" George scoffs, smirking as he looks into Arthur's eyes through furrowed brows. "You don't see the way her eyes sparkle when she looks at you, or the way she blushes when she laughs at your jokes. She didn't tell you off when you kissed her cheek even-"

"You saw that?" Arthur yells, his voice breaking. He clasps a hand to his mouth as George shushes him.

"Yes and I've known y/n longer than you. Trust me, if she didn't like you, she certainly wouldn't let you do that." He pinches Arthur's cheek and lightly jiggles him. Arthur swats his hand away. "I've never seen her with a crush before, until she met you."

As they spot y/n and Hill slowly walking to their table with the drinks, George and Arthur sit up straight in an attempt to look like they weren't just discussing anyone.

Y/n sits opposite Arthur. For the first time, she notices how Arthur's gorgeous chocolate eyes light up when they share a gaze. Arthur spots the flush on her cheeks that George had mentioned just earlier.

With the camera rolling, George decides to make the others play a game of 'name that tune'. He starts by humming the instrumental part of 'Late for the Reservation', kindly giving Hill some free advertising.

"Oh! Late for the Reservation!" Y/n guesses excitedly. George nods while Hill bows his head with a shy smile. He turns to the camera.

"This sounds planned but it wasn't, but you can listen to Late for the Reservation now!"

The group carries on the game for a little while, Hill surprisingly being awful at guessing despite his field of expertise. Arthur downs the rest of his drink and suddenly clears his throat.

"Sorry guys, I've just got to make a quick phone call. I'll be right back." He explains, before rushing through the pub to get to the front door.

The other three continue their game. Y/n begins humming 'Lily'. She can see in George's eyes that he gets the song right away, but he pretends not to to see how long it takes Hill to guess it.

After a further 10 seconds, George bursts out laughing. "There's no way you're not getting this!" He snorts, while y/n continues humming with a grin.

"I genuinely don't know!" Hill cries while laughing awkwardly, causing the other two to chortle.

"It's YOUR song!" They both yell.

"Oh, Lily..." Hill mutters as he slowly puts his head in his hands, chuckling with shame.

Suddenly, y/n's phone buzzes. "Oh, it's Arthur," she states to the guys, "it says: 'Come to the front, you NEED to see this!'" She takes the last couple of sips of her cider before standing up, her head rushing.

George's phone also buzzes, he reads the text in his head and elbows Hill to show him. He reads it too and nods. "You guys coming?" Y/n asks the pair kindly.

"I would but my head's swirling." Hill lies.

"And I'd better stay in case he falls into a cider-induced coma." George adds. James puts is camera down and enjoys his drink as y/n shrugs and heads to the front of the pub.

"Hey Arth!" Y/n says joyfully, startling Arthur as he puts his phone away quickly.

"There you are!" He beams, putting his hands in his pockets. She steps fully outside and leans against the wall, next to him.

"What are we looking at?" She asks sweetly, looking around the street for a cute dog or something.

"Oh, um actually, I wanted you to come out here to have some alone time away from the guys and the camera." He explains, struggling to maintain eye contact.

"Ah, OK," y/n responds, a little confused but not judging, "is everything alright?"

A smile creeps up on Arthur's lips. Even when he's being weird and awkward, y/n isn't fazed and just shows care for him.

"Everything is great, absolutely fine," he replies, his eyes soften as he looks at her, "in fact, my life has greatly improved ever since I-"

"OH MY GOD IS THAT ARTHUR TV?" A random voice screeches from across the road. The pair snap their heads to the source of the noise and see a small group of teenagers. The girls giggle as they shove each other before running up to them. The boys of the group stay back and watch. "Oh my god I watch your videos all the time!" One of them calls out. Amongst the girls' excitement, one of them pushes y/n out the way as they ask Arthur for a selfie. Y/n stumbles a little but steadies herself against the wall.

"Woah, careful!" Arthur chuckles, trying to keep a peaceful vibe whilst secretly being annoyed that y/n got shoved. The pushy girl takes a selfie with Arthur, just the two of them. "Hey, um, can you take a picture of us with him?" One of the other girls asks y/n.

"Of course I can," y/n kindly obliges, taking the phone off the girl and snapping multiple photos. One of the girls posing with Arthur suddenly goes wide eyed.

"It's y/n from yt/n! Oh my gosh!" She calls out. Her and another girl who’s standing with Arthur suddenly rushes to y/n's side for a photo. "I loved you in pub golf, you and Arthur had such funny moments!"

Y/n gets flustered, as she's not as big as the other guys and still isn't quite used to being 'spotted'. Arthur offers to take a photo for the girls, beaming at y/n's humble reaction.

"Wait, is George inside? George Clarke?" One of them asks, looking at herself in her phone's front facing camera and adjusting her hair. Y/n and Arthur nod.

"And Arthur Hill," Y/n adds with a grin, "they're in the pub garden." They girls squeal and all rush inside. Y/n and Arthur look at each other and exhale at the same time. They then hear the excited screams from the other side of the pub.

“What were you saying?” Y/n asks politely. Arthur prepares to answer but spots the teenage boys coming over, presumably to fetch the girls. They send y/n and Arthur some awkward and apologetic looks as they enter the pub too. Shortly after the teenagers are all seen again exiting the pub, with Hill, George and James emerging from behind them. The girls all call out their good byes and wave as they head the opposite direction to the gang’s next destination.

“OK, this time the pub is quite a while away.” Hill explains to the group.

“Is it the Village Club? Because I can literally see it from here.” Arthur chortles, spitting a little.

“Oh fuck sake, you ruined my joke!” Hill yells halfheartedly, but loud enough to echo.

As they all walk, George murmurs to the camera: “Y’know one of these days it’ll really be a long walk but no one will believe him,” in a false serious tone.

Y/n, hearing this, jogs to join George and James. “Yeah, like the boy who cried walk.” She adds with a grin, and she hears Arthur laughing from behind her.

However when they get there, they soon realise that it’s a social club and was full of members. Although they’re all tipsy, they’re sober enough to decide to give it a miss as to not ruin the members’ fun.

“Well then, let’s have a look at what else we can do while we’re here.” Hill announces as he scrolls through his phone. “Aha! OK, so there’s an Aylesford Friars just 14 minutes away from here and it’s like a historical landmark.”

“14 minutes away or 14 seconds?” George mutters.

“It’s… thatta way!” Hill exclaims enthusiastically and directs the gang to walk back on themselves.

Arthur and George walk side by side while the camera is on them, y/n joins Hill at the front to help with directions.

“How’d things go with Arthur just now, outside the pub?” He asks her, keeping his voice low, then chuckles to himself at the name ‘The Bush’.

“Well, he seemed kind of nervous or something, but then those fans came over, so I never found out." She replies quietly, “Why?”

Worried he’ll reveal too much, he tries to think fast but no thoughts were coming, just ‘The Bush’ or the truth. Luckily for him (and Arthur) James joins them with the camera.

“Uhh, I need a woman’s touch with directions,” he explains, passing y/n his phone while making direct eye contact with the lens.

“The Chequers Inn is just here,” she calculates, gesturing to the pub beside them, “so if we head straight for about 9 minutes we’ll be there.”

“See? Aren’t those eyes amazing?” Hill asks the camera, like a quiz show host trying to flatter his guest.

Y/n suddenly feels a buzz in her own phone. She hands Hill’s back to him and checks her notifications. It’s a text from Arthur:

'Yes 👀✨'

She immediately looks over her shoulder and locks eyes with him, to see he’s already looking at her with a dorky smile. He nods at her to confirm it, she does have amazing eyes. She then watches as he types another message on his phone, a couple of seconds later it comes through:

'Beautiful little gems 😍'

Fighting a blush, she decides to respond, completely ignoring the camera while Hill talks nonsense to it. She sends:

'Mr Frederick, are you flirting with me?'

She turns her head again to watch him read it. He frowns as he concentrates, the words a little blurry to him from all the drinks, but a cheeky smile soon creeps up on his face. Quickly facing forwards again as to not look too needy, she hears George moan: “You’re not seriously texting each other are you?”

“No.” Arthur lies with a half smile, not convincing anyone. He’s not even trying.

George whispers, but y/n still overhears: “Oh please, who else do you smile like THAT for?”

She beams to herself, before her phone vibrating catches her attention. From Arthur:

“Let’s be real, when am I not flirting with you”

Wow, this man is filled with liquid confidence. Or regular confidence, it’s hard for her to tell.

The Friars Aylesford Priory is a beautiful place. Surrounded by gorgeous gardens and holding a cute tea room and gift shop inside, the group slowly potter around. James captures scenic shots and clips of the four, Hill making a mental note to pair the montage with one of his songs.

Arthur takes his time to read a lot of the information dotted around, having to lean in closer and furrow his brows as he struggles to read with is beer goggles. This however, makes for a perfect photo opportunity and y/n snaps one without his knowledge. She can send it to him later for his Instagram. She takes a few more pictures of the place in general.

While they’re in the outdoor gardens, she walks alongside Arthur in a peaceful silence. Unbeknownst to them, George takes a photo of the two of them walking side by side and immediately sends it to them both. Y/n is first to check her phone. “George took our photo,” she says, smiling up at Arthur. He decides to check his phone too, figuring it’s the same message.

“Aw yeah, that’s a lovely photo of us,” he replies with glee, his voice raising in pitch.

“We have a collection now, the first being our cuddle on Chris’s sofa.” Y/n jokes as she saves pic to her photos.

Arthur giggles, feeling his face burn. “That reminds me actually, did Chris show you his pictures from the pub golf?” He then asks. Y/n shakes her head.

They both stop walking as Arthur holds a finger up, signifying to hold on for a moment while he scrolls through his photo album. “They’re the rejected ones of the group pictures he made us take halfway through,” he explains, “look at this one then scroll to the next. Notice anything?” He hands y/n his phone and smiles from ear to ear as he watches her look.

In the group photos, Arthur was on the far left but at the front, whereas y/n is on the far right and stood further back. In the first photo, Arthur is looking over his shoulder and smiling across at y/n as her eyes are on the camera. When she swipes across, the next photo shows her looking sweetly at Arthur while he smiled at the camera. Arthur chuckles quietly as y/n bites her lips between her teeth.

“We can’t keep our eyes off each other, what do you suppose that means?” He asks genuinely, tilting his head. He reaches for his phone and takes a long inhaled breath as he brushes over her fingers with his.

Her heart skips a beat as his hand lingers on hers for a couple of seconds. “I… I don’t know,” she replies, now struggling to keep eye contact. “I can’t speak for you, but for me personally I-”

“Sorry to interrupt baes,” Hill interjects awkwardly, “but George is hangry again and I thought we could head to a bakery and chill for a bit before checking out the night life.” Arthur’s eyes were wide, but soften into a more polite look, trying to hide his disappointment. Y/n on the other hand is relieved because she isn’t sober enough to find the right words yet.

They all head to a cake shop nearby, Hill talking Arthur and James’s heads off while George keeps y/n company.

“I’m sorry if my greed ruined any hashtag y/nTV moments back there,” George whispers, “it was looking quite serious, but my stomach is literally rumbling.” He isn't kidding.

“It’s OK really, I suck at serious conversations,” she mumbles back. She goes on to tell him what happened.

“Arthur gives hints really well, but he sucks at taking them,” George explains with a shrug, “if you can’t find the words, maybe you can show him with actions?” This gives y/n food for thought. Her mind starts racing with what she can do rather than what she can say.

“Thank you Clarkey.” She quickly gives his forearm a grateful squeeze.

George is the only one who orders at the bakery, the others not feeling up to eating anything sweet at that moment. It becomes pretty clear how George can throw back so many drinks but remain relatively sober compared to the others. It’s a smart tactic.

While George munches away, Arthur plays a game of chess on his phone. Y/n watches over his shoulder, both of them in total silence. Meanwhile, Hill scrolls through his phone, looking for karaoke bars and nightclubs, feeling in the mood to sing and dance.

"There isn't much available in terms of night time fun..." Hill murmurs, "But we could catch an 8 minute train to Maidstone, which seems to have more to offer for us youngsters."

George wipes his lips, "Yeah I'm down for that mate."

"Same here," y/n chimes in with a smile. They all look to Arthur, but he's too engrossed in his match. Sensing the silence, he peers up to see everyone's eyes on him. He blinks for a couple of seconds before nodding too, although he's not entirely sure what he just signed up for.

They make their short walk to the station, the train arriving at the perfect time. Sitting in a six-seater area, Hill explains to the camera: "We are heading to Maidstone now, they seem to have more things for us to do there."

Arthur, who is sat next to Hill and opposite y/n, whips his phone back out to play more online chess. George and y/n try tallying up their drinks so far and talk about the best part of Aylesford.

"I liked Little Gem, it was really cozy and cute." Y/n stated with a smile. It's the only moment on the short train ride that makes Arthur look away from his phone. George crosses his arms with a smug look on his face.

"I enjoyed that place too," he adds, "yeah, I saw a really cute couple share an intimate moment there. It was nice to see." His grin grows wider. It's the kind of statement that's only innocent to those who aren't aware of the context, the clever prat. Arthur, back to staring at his phone at this point, widens his eyes for a brief moment. Until now, he didn't know that George saw him peck y/n's cheek.

"I liked scoping out the MILFs at the social club." Hill adds, smiling playfully.

"Oh my goodness..." Arthur mutters, shaking his head.

They arrive at Maidstone and head straight for the Wetherspoons nearby, being only a two minute walk away.

"Ah, another one of your famous hikes ey Arthur?" George quips to Hill as they all walk, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"Yep, I'm thinking of renaming this series to 'long-walk roulette'." He replies, matching George's tone.

Meanwhile, James captures shots of the four walking together, with y/n and Arthur closer to the camera. "Did you win your match?" Y/n asks him.

"Yeah, although I think it'll be my last game of the day now we're drinking even more." He chuckles in response.

Reaching the pub, named The Society Rooms, Hill heads to the bar with James as the other three find a quieter spot outside. Hill orders a bunch of shots on a tray again, and carries them out to the group.

Donning a mischievous smirk, he declares: "Who's up for a game of 'say it or shot it'?" George pinches his nose bridge.

"We basically played this in Aylesford." He grumbles.

"No Georgie baby, that was 'never have I ever'." Hill scolds in a soft motherly tone. "You can go first then." Passing a shot to George.

"Fine by me, sugar tits." He mumbles back, holding the shot ready.

"George," Hill begins, "who, out of the women you've collaborated with, do you think is the most attractive?" George thinks for a second, before taking his shot.

"Y/n," Hill turns his attention to her and hands her a shot, "what's the name of the creator you collaborated with that you HATED?"

Sighing, she shakes her head. "I didn't hate them." She mumbles, but takes her shot anyway, her eyes getting heavy.

"Right then, Mr Television... Would you give up chess for sex?" Hill asks, the sudden randomness catching the others off guard.

"Oh my god!" Arthur yells in shock. He looks at his shot and pauses, "I do love chess, but yes. I would." His face begins to burn up again as he avoids looking at y/n.

"OK then Hill," George says, having a think of an annoying question to ask, "what's the name of the last girl whose DMs you have a'slid?"

"Fuck that." Hill immediately replies, downing his shot.

The game lasts quite a while, almost getting enough footage for an entire separate video, the sky now dark. George slides one of the last remaining shots to y/n, he stares at her through narrowed eyes, "Y/n."

"Yes George."

"Out of everyone here, who would you rather bang?"

Arthur's mouth falls open as Hill lets out an "Ooooooooo"

Y/n laughs and miraculously thinks fast. "Out of you three or everyone on the premises?"

George lets out a chuckle. "This table." He doubles down.

Y/n exhales slowly, looking around at the three men as if she doesn't already know. Arthur watches her intently, he swallows when she locks eyes on him. She teases them. "I think..." She starts, taking a long pause before downing the shot and smiling smugly. The boys all react disappointedly, just as she hoped.

Hill picks up the remaining shot and places it in front of Arthur. "Arthur, is there anyone you've collaborated with that you would love to make sweet love with"? He leans back in his chair, proud of his question.

Arthur folds his arms, wearing a casual smile. "Yes." He simply answers. The other three go wide eyed.

"Who?" Hill asks.

"I've already answered my question, it's someone else's turn now." Arthur states, moving the shot away, pleased with himself. The disappointment nearly smacks Hill across the face.

Hill, slightly annoyed he didn't get a funnier reaction our of Arthur, passes the shot to George. "Clarkey, how big is your willy?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." he replies with a wink.

They head to a nearby cocktail bar name Social Chill Bar, to get 'white girl wasted' as Hill puts it, although it's safe to say they are all already quite drunk at this point. Within the 4 minute walk, George manages to walk into a lamppost, Arthur attempts to climb up a different lamppost, and y/n trips over her own feet. All of which is caught on camera.

Spotting the bar up ahead, George tells the others to look sharp, so they don't get turned away for being too drunk already. It works, although Arthur gets IDed again, another fantastic moment for the video. George immediately heads for the toilets, whereas Hill heads to the bar with James to buy a couple of pitchers. Y/n and Arthur pick a table that's tucked more away from the others.

"IDed again Arthur, now I've got the ick." Y/n jokes. Arthur rests his arm on the table, twisting his upper body to face her.

"Hmm," he taps her arm playfully, "that would mean you were into me beforehand." He quips before hiccupping. The pair start giggling.

"Touché," is all y/n can muster as the laughter dies down. Hill and James join the table.

"Where's Clarkey?" Hill asks, "Having his famous Clarkey shit?"

"Probably, he is in the toilets." Y/n replies, amused. However as if on cue, George emerges.

The group all giggle and make jokes as they share two pitches between them. Due to a loud hen party that also enter the bar, they don't spend too long or record too much.

"There's a karaoke bar like a minute walk away from here." Hill informs the table. They're all keen and work on their 'sober' look to ensure they get in that pub too.

Standing out side the Royal Albion pub, Hill decides to do his outro there as the bar is blaring copyrighted music. The four say good bye to the camera, followed by a good bye and thank you to James, who kindly declines the offer to join them and gets an Uber home.

They successfully enter the pub, which is quite lively as they four nab themselves a table near the karaoke area. Y/n and Hill go to the bar to order drinks, y/n ordering her go-to and a Southern Comfort for Arthur.

Meanwhile at the table, Arthur is sat next to George and can't contain it anymore. "I'm in love with y/n," he blurts out.

George laughs at the sudden statement. "Steady on Arthur, you've only met her once before."

"Yes," Arthur holds his finger up in a 'well actually' way, "but we've been texting nearly everyday since we first met, and even played games online together."

"Fair enough mate," George shrugs, happy for him, "but what are you gonna do about it?" Arthur curls his finger and dabs it against his mouth while he ponders.

While waiting for their drinks to be made, Hill turns to y/n with a snigger. "You ready to watch Arthur dance? It'll be make or break for you."

"I've seen plenty of clips online already, he sure can throw that ass back." Y/n replies as they both chuckle. The bartender hands them their drinks as they search for their table.

A drunk woman approaches the mic and sings a very original rendition of Celine Dion's 'My Heart Will Go On'. The four sway at their table, while random couples slow dance. "I'm gonna put some songs and names down, who's up for singing?" Hill asks. Arthur is quick to put his hand up, whereas George and y/n shake their heads.

"I'd need to be at least thrice as pissed." Y/n explains apologetically, "But I'm up for dancing." The two Arthurs go up to the table where they write down their songs, Hill explains to the karaoke host that one of the songs he wants to sing is his own and he'll use the instrumental saved on his phone and hold it near the microphone. The host is intrigued and allows it.

When they rejoin the table, y/n asks what they're going to sing. "It's a surprise." Hill grins before Arthur can answer. They spend the next few minutes being entertained by the mixture of singers, some good, some bad. George takes a fancy to a cute girl who sang 'Love Story' by Taylor Swift and after some encouragement from the three, he approaches her when she's at the bar.

"Next up with have Arthur Hill with 'You're Beautiful'!" The host calls out. Y/n and Arthur cheer him as he approaches the microphone. As the instrumental plays, Arthur stands up, adjusts his shirt, then extends a hand to y/n. "Wanna dance?" He asks, his face donning a sweet smile.

Of course, y/n accepts the invitation. She takes his hand, the contact still feeling as electric as it does sober, as they join the other pairs that are already dancing. Arthur's not quite sure where to put his hands, so y/n gently takes them and places them at her waist, she then rests her hands on his broad shoulders. He chuckles shyly at her and begins swaying with her, copying what the other couples are doing.

'She smiled at me on the subway She was with another man'

Spending a lot of time looking at their feet so he doesn't tread on her, Arthur's cheeks begin to ache from smiling. As they slowly rotate, y/n locks eyes with Hill. He winks at her while still singing effortlessly.

'But I won't lose no sleep on that 'Cause I've got a plan'

Arthur looks back up to y/n as he quietly sings along, his glossy eyes peering lovingly into hers. "You're beautiful" the sweetness causing y/n to giggle as she starts singing along too.

'I saw your face in a crowded place And I don't know what to do'

Arthur not wanting to sing the next lyric, pulls y/n flush against him as they continue to slow dance. A little winded, she instinctively hugs her arms around his waist. He then readjusts so his arms are wrapped on top of hers and lowers his chin onto her shoulder.

As the song continues, Arthur clasps his hand around y/n's wrist and gently pulls her arm out so he can hold her hand, still holding each other with the other arms. They sway like this for the rest of the song, Arthur singing along to "You're beautiful" again into y/n's ear in a low, soothing voice. She can feel his heart thud against her as he draws small circles against the side of her hand with his thumb, and she's certain he can hear her heartbeat over the speakers. They dance like this for the rest of the song, both with their eyes closed contently.

George, while still sitting up at the bar with the swiftie, records Hill as he sings, then records a separate video of the lovebirds dancing together. He uploads the clip of Hill to his story, captioning it with 'never heard him sing this before', but sends the other video to y/n and Arthur privately. "They're in love, but they haven't confessed to each other yet." He whispers to the sweet girl, while casually leaning on the bar top. She likes this hopeless romantic side to him and gives him her Instagram handle.

When the song ends, y/n and Arthur pull away from each other, gazing into each others eyes as the rest of the pub guests applaud Hill. Arthur puts his hand to his chest and makes an exaggerated 'phew', his dorky way of joking with her about how nervous he was. Her left hand still clasped onto his right, she giggles at his wholesomeness.

The host congratulates Hill on his rendition of the song. "And next up we have... Arthur... TV, with 'She's So Lovely'!''

Arthur is snapped out of his daze, "Oh! It's my turn!" He shrieks, his voice far too loud now the song is over. He gives y/n's hand a squeeze and jogs to the 'stage' area.

He clasps the microphone and clears his throat. "Hi, this song is dedicated to someone amazing I met a few months-" he's cut off by the song starting, he shrugs and laughs. The girl George was talking to joins her friends to dance, so he jogs to y/n to dance with her, as does Hill. Arthur's eyes switch between looking shyly at the floor and peering over at y/n as she dances with two of his best friends. A smile evident in his voice every time he watches her laugh as they twirl her around and sing along. Y/n can't believe how good he sings, his voice soft as ever and hitting every key, except for the odd occasion where his voice breaks.

George steps away to record Arthur singing, to put this on his story too. No caption this time, just tagging Arthur and the pub. Hill grabs y/n's hands and swings their arms side to side. Before the song is even finished, George shows y/n the number of replies to his story with speculations about she's there and if Arthur's singing about her. In the video, it's obvious he had his eyes on someone, except for when he looked at George's phone, but y/n was out of view the whole time.

When the song is over the pub give him a round of applause, with y/n, George, and Hill cheering him extra loud. Arthur takes an awkward little bow and rejoins his friends. "That was amazing!" Y/n screams, the clapping dying down.

"I'm glad you enjoyed, really." He gently pats her on the back, unable to draw his eyes away from her. Another person begins singing another Taylor Swift song, so George quickly peers around for his 'pub girl'. He spots her running back to the dance floor with her friends and she waves him over. He's gone in a flash. "Ohh I span too much," Hill groans as he sits back down at their table, his face turning pale.

"Do you want some water Hilly?" Y/n asks him caringly. He exhales out a risky burp and nods his head.

"I'll grab it, you keep an eye on him. D'you want another drink?" Arthur kindly offers. Y/n wobbles a little as she takes a seat next to Hill and rests her hand on his shoulder.

"I think I've had enough for tonight, maybe a water for me too please?" Y/n replies, patting her stomach with her free hand.

"Good point, three waters it is then." Arthur grins as he weaves around the dancers to get to the bar.

Y/n checks her phone to see the notification from George. She opens the video of her and Arthur slow dancing. As his face pivoted into view, her heart melts at how happy he looked. His head tilted and rested against hers, his eyes closed, his mouth slightly upturned at the corners. She then watches how safe and secure she looked as her face came in view. "He's a really good guy," Hill slurs, peering over at her screen, "if you don't date him, I will." Y/n laughs as she hearts George's message.

"Oh Arthur," Y/n replies, sighing.

"Seriously though, girls have screwed him over in the past. And these are girls he only liked a little bit." He hiccups then clears his throat, taking y/n's hand and gently swinging it around. "With you, he's just... different. In a good way."

"I really like him." Y/n mumbles, chuckling as she watches Hill continue to pull her hand around. "But I need to hear it from him, and soberly preferably. I mean, I might just seem good through the beer goggles." She sniggers.

Hill shakes his head. "No, no, no. He talks about you all the fucking time y/n, drink or no drink. Trust me, he really likes you."

They spot Arthur awkwardly juggling three glasses of water towards their table. "Speaking of the devil!" Hill croaks, immediately downing half the glass.

"Oh no, what were you guys saying?" Arthur asks, his voice riddled with a nervous laugh as his eyes dart between the two of them. Y/n gestures as if it was nothing, but Hill has other ideas.

"Just about how much you like y/n." He bluntly states with a shrug. Arthur and y/n's eyes go wide.

"W-what? What d'you mean?" Arthur stutters, spraying a little water.

"Yeah," Hill smirks, shrugging again, "you know, you think she's a great content creator. That's all." He then gulps down the rest of this water and exhales loudly. "Thanks guys, I feel much better." Sliding his glass to the far end of the table, he then gets up and excuses himself.

“That was weird,” Arthur says, raising an eyebrow. He takes a seat next to y/n as another singer takes the stage. “How come you want to stop drinking? Are you not having fun anymore?”

“Actually it’s the opposite,” y/n giggles, “I don’t want to forget how fun today’s been and if I drink any more, I’ll probably black out.”

“That’s fair enough.” Arthur relaxes and a smile grows back on his face.

George returns to the table. “Hey you two, on the water already?”

“Yep, I was just telling Arthur that I’m having too much fun and don’t want to forget the day.” Y/n replies.

“Oh yeah, I remember you told me once, that alcohol doesn’t wipe your memory but stops you creating them, right?” George queries.

Y/n nods, “that’s right.”

“You are aware that most of today was caught on camera though.” George replies, to which y/n starts laughing into her hand.

George peers to the empty seat next to y/n. “Where’s Hill?”

“The other Arthur has gone to the toilet I think.” Y/n replies.

“Shit. I better make sure he hasn’t passed out or something, I think it’ll be his turn to sing again soon.” George hurries to the toilets. Arthur shifts his chair closer to y/n.

“So, if he’s the ‘other Arthur’, does that make me ‘Arthur number one’?” He asks, wearing a cheeky smile as he drums her arm with his fingers.

“Of course, you’re always number one.” Y/n wholeheartedly replies. Arthur’s eyebrows arch upwards as he lets out a quiet ‘aww’. He squeezes her hand.

“I know I’ve said this already but I’m so glad you came today. I was worried all the comments and posts about us would put you off, honestly.” Arthur explains, his words still slightly slurring.

“Oh no, not at all! I get shipped with everyone.” Y/n awkwardly chuckles in response. “Although not as much as with you.”

“Indeed.” Arthur slowly nods, his heavy eyes focusing on her lips. “It’s because you’re so good to everyone.”

George rejoins the pair. “The karaoke host is kindly letting Arthur plug his phone into their laptop, so his backing track will play on the speakers properly.” He explains.

“That’s really generous!” Arthur replies enthusiastically.

George nods as he takes his seat. “That’s where he’s been, not dead on the bathroom floor like I thought.”

The host reintroduces Hill to the stage, explaining that he’ll be singing his own song, which greatly interests the crowd. “I’m gonna find my sweet swiftie.” George shouts as he darts off.

“Shall we dance again?” Arthur asks y/n, standing to his feet and offering his arm.

She stands too, looping her arm with his. “I thought you’d never ask!” She yells in a jokey tone. Arthur leads her to a secluded corner by one of the speakers, hoping to have a little privacy.

‘I started learning piano Just so I could write songs about you’

They arrange themselves into another slow dance position. Arthur’s left hand on her waist and with the other, gently holding her left hand up and out to their side, y/n rests her free hand on his shoulder again. They sway in total bliss to Hill’s beautiful love song. Arthur mouths the words to y/n, gazing deeply into her eyes with a soft look. She feels a warm swirly feeling in her chest, which both surprises her and soothes her at the same time.

Never would y/n have ever pictured her adult self bar hopping and getting drunk with friends, only to end the night with slow dancing, especially with someone like Arthur. But she’s never met anyone like him before, and neither has he with her.

Y/n spots George with the cute girl he’s been chatting to throughout the night, they look really sweet together as he peers down at her with rosy cheeks, them in a similar dance position. Y/n gestures towards them with her head, and Arthur looks over his shoulder. The pair slow to a halt and watch for a while, although they still have an arm around each other.

“He looks so smitten and happy!” Y/n calls out over the music, her eyes still locked on them proudly. Arthur turns his head to look down at his dance partner.

“Yeah.” He whispers with a soft smile, although y/n can’t hear him over the speakers. He hesitates before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, his lips buried in her hair. She beams, her pulse quickening.

They resume their dancing as the second chorus comes on.

‘I don’t want you, I crave you I fucking need you’

Arthur stares at y/n through hooded eyelids, the ‘need you’ part really hitting home for him. Y/n returns his gaze, noticing a slight change in his facial expression, but isn’t entirely sure what to make of it.

‘Your face is at the forefront Your name grips onto my tongue’

His eyes a little glossy, he looks deeply into both her eyes, darting between the two. His face drops slightly, donning a nervous expression as the next words are sung:

‘But I’m too scared to ask If I’m buried at the back’

Sensing his hesitation, y/n lurches up and plants quick a kiss to Arthur’s lips. He reciprocates, and when she stands flat again, he stares at her for a couple of seconds, a half smile fading onto his face. It felt exactly how he dreamt it would.

‘I don’t want you, I crave you'

He lets go of her briefly only to cup her cheeks as he crashes his lips down into hers.

'I fucking need you’

Their lips slowly but passionately work in rhythm as y/n wraps her arms around his torso. One of his hands slides up to grip the hair at the back of her head, the other wraps around her shoulders, holding her tighter. He turns his head slightly so he can pull her even closer as he deepens this kiss, his nose digs into her cheek and his stubble tickles her skin, but she welcomes the feelings. She tastes his Southern Comfort and he tastes her drink, creating a cocktail of their own. The flashing colourful lights of the pub reflect the fireworks in her head.

The song finishes, as does their kiss. They pull away from each other, breathless, still in each others embrace. There’s a shared look of adoration in each others eyes, mixed with something else. Want. Arthur’s eyes appear darker than usual, peering down as his mouth is still slightly open. Y/n looks up at him through her eyelashes.

The applause from the other pub folk snaps them back to reality, a soft shy smile creeping on Arthur’s lips as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind y/n’s ear. Y/n can’t help but giggle, goosebumps lining her skin.

They make their way back to the small crowd. George’s babe says good bye to him as she leaves with her friends, not before she gestures at her phone to him.

Once they’re gone, George turns back to y/n and Arthur as Hill rejoins them.

“Finally!” George bellows, a grin on his face.

“Aw George, did you get a kiss?” Y/n asks sweetly, heart still racing as Arthur puts an arm around her waist.

“No,” George smirks, “but I know who did.” He holds his phone up to show a photo of y/n and Arthur. The picture looks so romantic, like it was from a romcom.

“Oh my!” Hill shrieks, his eyes wide but accompanied with a smirk.

Y/n and Arthur look at him with a mix of surprise and embarrassment, and a small hint of pride.

“Don’t worry guys, I took it. I spotted you making out when my girl went to grab her drink.” He says as he forwards the picture to them both. “Just remember to give me photo cred when you hard launch to the world.”

Arthur and y/n look to each other and share a laugh, the tension seeping out.

“Proud of you mate,” Hill says as he slaps Arthur’s back. “Wish you’d done it during recording so my video could go viral, but whatever.’

The group decide to head back to the station soon after, with Hill’s queasiness creeping back up on him. The train rides are pretty quiet, most of creators exhausted from the day, except Arthur. He talks the majority of the time, with y/n listening intently and nodding, all the while scanning through the photos she’d taken throughout the day. George is scrolling through his story replies, Hill has fallen asleep with his head gently rattling against the window.

Sitting beside her, Arthur leans across. “When did you take that?” He asks, pointing at a photo of y/n from outside the Aylesford Friars.

“George took that, I think while you were learning Aylesford trivia.” She giggles in response.

“It’s beautiful.” Arthur replies with a smile. He then watches her scroll through the rest of the day’s photos and videos, landing on the pic she’d saved of their sweet kiss.

“Wow.” He mutters, leaning even closer to her. “That was amazing.” He then whispers, almost seductively.

“Get a room.” Hill groans, his eyes fluttering open.

“Yeah, or at least a different carriage.” George mumbles.

Arthur huffs and sits up straight, a sheepish smile spreading across his face.

“Saw you dancing away with your pub girl.” He says to George.

“Yeah, tell us all about her.” Y/n chimes in, leaning forward on the small plastic table and resting her chin on her hands. Hill grumbles and seemingly dozes off again, as George tells what sounds like the beginning of a modern love story.

When they arrive back home, George and Hill say their good byes to the pair, after Arthur kindly offers y/n a walk back to hers.

Y/n, seemingly a little more sobered up, feels the cold of the British night hit her fast. She tried to hide it, but Arthur can tell. “Oh, here.” Before she even looks at him, his hoodie is off and he hands it to her.

“What? Won’t you be cold?” She asks bashfully.

“Absolutely not,” Arthur kindly replies, looking at the floor as they walk, “I have enough alcohol in my system to keep me warm.”

Y/n stops for a moment while she slips it over her head, that familiar aftershave once again embracing her senses. “And besides, I’m still a little heated from earlier.” He chuckles, wiggling his eyebrows as they continue.

She swats at his arm playfully as she laughs. “I’m glad you enjoyed it as much as I did.” She states.

“What’s not to enjoy?” He looks at her, “the hottest girl in the world giving you the best kiss in the world?” The evening just gets better and better.

“You’re too kind. It was really good though.” She hugs herself a little tighter, butterflies fill her stomach as she remember this kiss vividly.

They continue walking in a comfortable silence, Arthur reaches for her hand and squeezes it. “We’re quite close to my place actually,” he starts, his voice low and pensive, “if you’d like to come over?”

Y/n hums as she thinks about it. “I don’t see why not, I kept my schedule clear over the next few days in case I needed to crash at someone’s. Or recover.”

“My… my roommates are out of town too, so it would be just us.” He shyly adds, peering down at her with darkened eyes. Interesting.

♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥

[PART FOUR]

A/n: Thank you for the support and for reading again hehe, I'm sorry this took so long but I've been so swamped with work recently If you're from Aylesford or Maidstone, I apologise in advance if I butchered your town... part 4? 👀 ♥ Tag list: @ooostarwarsfandom501st @themdera @rougetv @essieswurld - Gabby xo

[criswritessometimes]

the hand has 27 bones, each of mine misses each of yours.

contents - gn reader, no use of (y/n), reader can't sleep, fluff

author note // i recently got a rammie plush as an early christmas present and, it inspired me to write this; enjoy!

part 2 !!

to: schlatt <3

going to bed. love you, big guy. 

delivered: 11:36 pm

this was the longest you and schlatt had been apart in your almost 3 year relationship. he was in japan for a month filming a project with jack manifold and ludwig. he wanted to bring you with him, but between the amount of time they were going to be filming and your work schedule, it just didn’t work out. so, here you were in the middle of the night alone, laying in the bed that you share with him, alone. you stare at the text on your phone and look at the clock on your bedside table. it read 4:04 am. you weren’t staying up for schlatt to text you back; that would form an unhealthy habit. however, you were tossing and turning, so you decided to look at your phone for a bit and hopefully fall asleep while using it.

screen time be damned, you swipe back to the text left on delivered. your fingers hovering over the keyboard, thinking of something to say, anything. you click on the top banner and click the call button. your phone shows the photo you took of him cuddling with jambo on his chest while they were relaxing on the couch a few weeks ago. you put the call on speaker, so you’re not holding it to your face. it rings, it rings again, and once more until it clicks, “hey this is schlatt! sorry i missed your call, text me if it’s important or i’ll try and call you back when i can. thanks!” it was his voicemail. you hang up. just listening to his voice was enough for now. you put your phone back on the nightstand to try to get some sleep and not get upset over how much you missed it. holding onto the rammie plushie that schlatt gave you early in your relationship, you roll away from your phone to sleep on your side. you can’t help but feel the lump in your throat that’s squeezing it at the same time, your lips sharply downturn, or the tears welling in your eyes, and it all comes out. you silently cry in your hands and the plush that you were holding and squeezing tighter and tighter. you try to wipe your tears, but they keep falling as you try to calm yourself down. as you do, you hear the silence of your shared home. schlatt wasn’t snoring or recording late at night.

you take a few deep breaths as you try to prevent yourself from having another meltdown over the situation. you hear a scratching at the door and a tiny ‘meow?’ at the door. jambo and soup liked cuddling with you and schaltt, so by this time of night, they were usually in bed with the both of you. you sit up in bed and get out of it, padding to the door in the dark to open it. you open the door very slightly, and Jambo pokes his head in meows, looking up at you; he comes in and winds his tail around your legs. you giggle, wiping some more tears, and bend down to pick him up. holding him like a baby, you walk back over to the bed, leaving the door open in case soup wants to join the party. you sit back in bed and put jambo on top of the covers, and he curls up almost immediately, being comforted by the smell of the sheets. as you’re about to pull the covers up, you hear your phone buzzing. turning it over to see the screen, it’s lit up by schlatt's contact poster. you answer it, putting it on speaker as you settle into bed and pet jambo.

“hey toots!” he greets; you smile hearing his voice, “you ok? sorry i missed your call, we were looking at footage from today.” “yeah i’m ok. i just missed you. the bed is too big without you in it. i'm swimming in it.” you tell him, trying to get him to laugh at the last part. he does, “awww honey, i’ll be home soon. how many more days was it? 4?” “yeah,” you nod. “but are you ok doll? you sound exhausted.” he asks, in a more serious tone and concern lacing his words. “i haven’t been sleeping super well without you here,” you admit, a little ashamed, “i know it sounds silly but you help me sleep more then you probably think.” “you sleep like a rock with me.” schlatt agrees. you sigh into the phone, “yeah.” there’s a pause, and you can feel schlatt thinking. “have you slept love?” he asks. “not tonight.” you tell him hesitantly. you hear him sigh, “aww baby, isn’t it almost 5 over there?” “yeah but i have the day so i’m just gonna tough it out today, like sleep wise.” you confessed. “i hate that you have to do that doll.” he says. “it’s been worst but since you’re coming home in a few days i feel better, and i have jambo and soup so it’s not all bad.” you tell him trying to not make him stress out to much about you. “hey tell you what, i just hung up my michigan hoodie before i left, sleep with if it still smells like me. i know that’s the main reason you steal my hoodies.” he offers, you can hear his smile at the end of the sentence teasing you. “ok maybe you’re right,” you admit, albeit in a better mood than when you answered the phone, “thank you baby.” “of course toots, i’ve gotta go to dinner, give jambs and soup a kiss for me alright. i love you, talk to you later.” schlatt says, ending the call. you agree to his request and tell him you love him before you hang up.

you throw the covers off and walk over to his side of the closet. when opening the door, you see the navy blue hoodie. grabbing it, you hold it and shove your face into it, smelling it deeply. you could tell he didn’t wash it as it still had this smell on it. you throw it over your head to put it on and are enveloped in the warmth from him. you walk back over to the bed and cuddle back up with your rammie plushie. jambo is curious to see what you have, coming over and sniffing you. he also smells schlatt on it and walks on top of you and curls up on your chest, purring away. chuckling at the sight, you were glad you weren’t the only one missing schlatt. 

[sweetimpurity]

I Think I'll Keep You 3

Notes: Thank you for your patience and your kindness! I've been finishing school and I'm graduating next week so I'm BUSY! But I love you guys and I hope you enjoy! I recommend rereading the last section of Chapter 2

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 next chapter>>

w.c. 8k. rated p for plot

Miguel storms back to his dorm, across campus, clutching his jacket around his bare torso. Feeling like an absolute idiot for losing his cool. Losing control. What is it about you that makes him act this way?

It’s like you’re trying to knock down the walls he’s built around himself all his life. Running to his building as rain starts to sprinkle, he makes it to the lobby, rushing around, pacing in the elevator getting up to his floor, his mind on total lockdown. As the doors open, he steps out, eyes widening, heart thumping, instantly seeing Peter and a few other teammates down the hall walking his way. Before another thought crosses his mind and before they can spot him, he steps back into the elevator as the doors are closing, slamming on the buttons for the lobby. His heart beating out of his chest. 

It’s starting to pour by the time he gets back downstairs, racing out before anyone he knows will see him. He’s sure they’ll get a bloody nose if anyone tries talking to him now. He keeps his head down, pushing through the doors outside and walking in the freezing rain, running at a certain point, crossing the courtyard and running to the other side of campus towards the athletic building. His Nikes splash in shallow puddles along the uneven parking lot, his dark eyes squinting as rain pelts down from above. His long legs bring him closer to the doors, closer to sanctuary, out of the freezing rain. Soaking his jacket, his hair, dripping down the bridge of his nose, fluttering in his eyelashes. 

He pushes through the doors, sighing audibly in a mixture of relief and annoyance and realizing how fast he was running. He pushes through the next set of doors, walking down the dark hallways of the building. Sneakers squeaking softly on the linoleum as he reaches the team's locker room door. Rain drips down from the curls that flopped onto his forehead and down the nape of his neck. Droplets glistening off his cheeks and his nose as he flicks on one of the locker room lights. He has no idea why he came here. Maybe it’s just the only place no one else is. 

He runs a hand through his hair, slicking it back from the cold rain, a few stray hairs springing out around his face. His mind flashes with images of you. Your smile, the pink tint of your lips, the peachy soft roundness of your cheek. His breath is heavy and his cheeks flushed from the cold. He gets to his locker, figuring maybe he should just… just do anything… 27… his fingers slip over the lock as rain drips from his curls… he could run around the field until he passes out…15… the color of your eyes… he could work on those drills he just gave the team the other day…10… the joint of your hip… the team does have a big game coming up this weekend… the lock won’t unlock… 27… the crook of your neck… he could go back to his dorm and work on that grant proposal he’s been needing to start…15…he could go to the lab and keep working on his thesis project… your gasping whispers of his name… 10… he could go to you right this second and tell you he’s sorry… 27… maybe that would make things better…15… the sound of your whimpers… the pitch of your moans… he could kick a ball around until it fucking pops… holding you close as you come down… 10!!... kissing you as you’re trembling… Why won’t the lock unlock? “Fucking unlock!!” He bellows and tugs on the lock in anger. His anger is blinding, numbing, controlling… his fist slams into the front of his locker. The bang of impact ringing throughout the empty locker room.

Instant pain shoots up his arm but he doesn’t care. He hits the locker again… and then again… and a few more times until the pain is too much to bear. Bang. Bang. BANG! Until his knuckles are worn raw. Punching, beating, denting the big “C” painted on the front of his locker. Captain. Leader. But he feels like a fucking loser. Punch, punch, PUNCH! Until he can’t anymore. “Ah… fuck!” He grunts and clutches his hand. Knuckles busted and fingers tingling hot and numb. “Fuck fuck ah… ngh…” He winces and groans in pain. “Shit…” He sighs and slumps his shoulder against the lockers. His hand throbbing and searing, clutching his hand to his chest in pain. His head rests against his locker, and he can feel the dents from the punches against his arm. Squeezing his eyes shut in pain and trying to stop the tears. Clutching his right hand and beating himself up in his head for being such a baby… for freaking out… for having feelings like this. Even when he’s alone, he won’t let himself cry over this. 

“Ah…” He winces, looking down at his hand, trying to move his fingers but the instant swelling makes it practically impossible. Hissing softly at the pressure and pain between his knuckles. 

Maybe this was necessary. Maybe this was the only way he’d slow the fuck down for one second to get his head on straight. He’s standing there and going over the events of tonight in his head. All that shit with Dana… then seeing you, kissing you, touching you… leaving because he couldn’t bear to listen to what you were saying. It was too much. It was too real. And the kind of conversation he actively tries to avoid. He can hardly remember what you said, it all feels like a blur right now. He can’t even remember what he said right now either. Probably some douchey stuff. “Ow, fuck…” He sighs and winces, holding his hand close to his chest. 

He sits in silence only when he catches his breath enough to suppress the sounds of pure agonizing pain. He feels embarrassed. He thinks you probably hate him now too. You must. How could you not after the shitty things he said. Sighing, he sits down on the bench in the middle of the locker room. His hair still dripping down the back of his neck uncomfortably. 

What the fuck is wrong with me?

He thinks to himself. Watching the purple bloom over his fingers and feeling the searing hot pain. 

Why did I just do that? Freak out. Is it because he knew what you were about to say? That you… you might be in love with him? After all the needy nights, the sneaky meetups and the lazy mornings, why is he so afraid? He can’t help but think of one specific morning... a week before you'd left… after a long night entangled in the sheets.

“You’re so warm…” You had said. Wrapped in his arms after sleeping beside him all night long. Naked and soft in his thick arms. His chest pressed against your back, his head resting in the crook of your neck. He smiled softly to himself, wrapping his arms a little tighter around you. He wanted you to feel warm. He wanted to be the one to warm you. 

“You’re so soft…” He hummed into your neck. Nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. You smiled, feeling so wanted, so safe and secure. No one had ever made you feel this way. And Miguel just kept doing it. When you were in his bed, he was always holding you. Always touching you. The sex was usually rough and desperate, and that was good… that was… incredible. But there was something about seeing him like this. Soft and quiet with all his attention on you. You were just dreaming of the day that these hookups would turn into something more. Trying to be patient but feeling like it would happen very soon.

“That tickles…” You whispered, squirming in his grasp as his breath and his lips tickled your neck. “Shhh…” He shushed you ever so softly, encasing you tighter in his arms and grazing his lips all around your neck and your shoulder. Knowing it’s tickling you, that it’s making you squirm. “Hah…” A soft puff of tense air left your lips at the feeling, unable to resist the urge to squirm and escape his tantilizing torture. “So sensitive…” He whispered, his hand coming up to softly grasp your throat, his lips moving up the side of your cheek before going back into the dip of your neck, biting down softly. You’d never experienced something so intimate, so romantic. You just closed your eyes, accepting everything he’s giving as you usually do. Except right now it feels like he’s giving it just to you. It’s for only you to have. His arm that’s under you wrapped around, his fingers teasingly tracing down your hip. 

“Hey, don’t start anything. We both have class soon…” You said with a smile and he nipped at your shoulder. “Mm.” He grumbled defiantly into your neck, breathing in your scent, your shampoo mixed with the sweet smell of your skin. When was he not trying to start something? To fill you up and keep you in his bed all day after having you all night. “You’re not making me late to class again…”  You said softly, still smiling as warmth spread over your cheeks. He smiled as you brought that up again. You just couldn’t seem to let that go. “It was one time…” He hummed playfully. “One too many…” You said with a sort of mischievous smile. “One too many…” He echoed your words in a breathy laugh, scoffing at your teasing. His voice is deep with sleep, fingers brushing down your chest, against your soft plush tummy and to your side, his fingertips pressing pleasantly to the little love-handles at your back, up to your shoulder blades and down your arm, his fingers encasing the back of your hand, so gentle, so soft. You’re still crushing on him hard except this time around he’s fucking you like he owns you and holding you like he made you. He sighed against your neck. 

“You know what’s better than being late?... Staying in bed…” He said all smugly. “You know what’s actually better than being late?... Being on time…” You retorted back and he laughed softly. He can play this game. “You know what’s better than being on time?...... Staying in bed.” He repeated and it made you laugh. “You already said that one!” You pouted, feeling the vibrations of his laughter against your back. “You know what’s better than staying in bed?... Going to class…” You said quick and giggled. It didn’t really mean anything anymore but it was fun and you wanted to win this back and forth. “No way, that’s undeniably incorrect.” He smiled, leaning up on his elbow to look more at your face as you were laughing. You looked so cute. He just couldn’t resist. “You know what’s better than going to class?” He asked and you turned back a bit to look in his eyes. “What.” You brow raised knowing he was about to say something stupid. He really wanted you to stay in bed. He smirked. “Sex with me…” It made you roll your eyes when he said it. You should have known. He smiled and moved to climb more on top of you, looking down right into your eyes. The blush that washed over your cheeks and the way you tried to look so unimpressed. “You know what’s better than sex with me?” He whispered. Was there such a thing? “Sex with you.” 

You looked up into his eyes. The tension got thicker the longer he just looked at you. Your eyes rolled again, trying not to break out into a big smile. He said it so easily. Before you could even form another thought his lips were on yours. His hand coming to your cheek, fingers soft upon your face. He kept it quick, knowing you actually didn’t want to be late for class. He was only teasing. But he kissed you again… and then again. Soft pecks. That kiss he kept doing. Like his lips couldn’t stop coming back for more. Your eyes fluttered open when you realized he’s not stopping. “Mm!” You hummed, pressing softly against his shoulder and he finally relented, pecking your cheek before getting off of you. Chuckling and laying beside you on his stomach, hooking his arm under the cold side of his pillow. 

Your phone buzzed on his bedside table. Catching both of your attention. You picked it up, opening it for the first time this morning. He watched over your shoulder as you unlocked the phone and went to your messages. He tried not to look too much. He did glance at the screen a few times. A certain tension building inside him. Wondering who could be texting you. He wanted to ask, or just outright look at who was texting you but he didn’t want to seem like he cared. His dark eyes flicked to the side of your face, the wisps of hair around your ear and your hairline fanning to your cheek, the slight blush from sleep and his flustering touch. The thought of anyone else seeing you like this, being with you like this…. It made him want to kill any guy who so much as looked your way. Or texted you first thing in the morning…

“My mom is just… driving me crazy…” You sighed and he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Your mom?” He managed to say, physically feeling himself relax finding it was just your mother texting you. The knot in his chest unraveling. He remembered you talking about some plans to go home for the weekend. A family reunion type of thing. 

“Yeah she’s… I love her but she gets sort of… crazy when it comes to plans…” You said and sent one last text before setting your phone back on the bedside table. “Well she just probably wants to see you…” He said and it brought a smile to your face. “Yeah… I just feel bad when she tries to take care of everything...” You said softly. Thinking of your mom, the kind of brave and determined woman she’s always been. “I told her, I don’t need anything fancy, I just need to see her and dad and my siblings and that’s it. And we have all the time in the world once I’m there. I mean… until it’s time to come back to school obviously…”

“Yeah…” He said softly, but it sounded like his mind was somewhere else. 

You have a large family. Lots of siblings. And Miguel doesn’t have that. He has one brother of course but he doesn’t even speak to his parents unless he needs to. It was interesting for him to hear about the conversation with your mom and your relationship with her. How you always spoke of your family with such love and tenderness. He’s never experienced anything like that in his life. 

“You have such a…big family.” He said softly. You couldn’t really tell with what tone he was saying it. Whether it was simply an observation, a judgment, or some sort of longing. “I do…” You sighed with a smile. You are the oldest of six which Miguel was flabbergasted to learn. “It’s not something I expected, but once you told me, it made sense.” He stated. And you couldn’t help but be curious as to why he thought that. You turned over on your side to face him more, his eyes meeting yours and the look on his face was a little surprised like you caught him off guard turning around like that. Making a direct connection with him. “Made sense, how?” You asked with a smile, curious about how he sees you. His face felt hot. The way it got hot a lot when you looked at him like that. Like his body knew something his brain didn’t. So he tried to explain while he feels like the wind is being knocked out of him. “Well… you… are very…” He starts and you’re expecting him to say what a lot of people say. That you’re dependable, you’re mature, you’re independent, helpful, capable. Because that’s how everybody has always seen you. Like anytime anyone looks at you, they’re trying to get you to help them in some way. “…patient.” He said. And you’ve never heard that one before. You smiled softly at him and he felt relieved. “Five siblings, I mean you’ve got to be patient, right?” He said and smiled, trying to make it all just a light joke, looking around a bit and away from the way you’re gazing in his eyes. But what he said was pretty profound. Tells you he’d thought about you and the kind of person you are. He’d thought about more than just sex with you. You looked in his eyes, a smile dancing on your lips. It distracted him a bit. 

“How does that make you feel?” You suddenly asked him. “What.” He asked, not knowing really how to answer a question like that. “How does my patience make you feel?” You reiterated slowly, looking right in his eyes like you’re staring right into his mind. He thought, getting distracted by that look on your face. The look that for some reason let him know whatever answer he gave you would never be the wrong one. 

“It…makes me…feel….”

“Fuck.” He sighs, the memory dissolving in his mind as he shoves it away. How could he be so stupid? Why did he say that kind of stuff to you? It’s like he doesn’t even remember that being him. Like he’s looking at someone else’s memory with you. He becomes someone else when he’s with you. But you looked so happy and he remembers how warm and soft you were. Holding his swollen, mangled hand, he winces at the pain still throbbing. It’s not getting any better, it’s only getting worse. 

It’s radio silence for the next few days. Midterms come and over the week you’re finishing up exams and tutoring students to do well. More students than ever are taking advantage of the tutoring program that you basically resurrected from the dead. So that’s a good feeling at least. You’ve been spending basically all your time in the library, both doing your own work and meeting with any students that need help. And just hanging out with a few tutoring friends. There are some new tutors that just joined the club a few weeks ago and it’s made this whole thing much more fun, hanging out with people that are like minded in that way. Wanting to help other people. 

You haven't heard from Miguel. You don’t know what became of him on Sunday night. And he didn’t reach out or anything on Monday to talk. Discuss what happened. Will you ever talk to him again? Or do you have to pretend none of this ever happened and he never existed in the first place. Your Sunday night heartbreak turns into Monday numb and Tuesday rage. Now it’s Thursday and you’ve thought of all the things you’d say to him if he showed his face again. But deep down you know it’s only the kind of thing you’d never be able to say. Like scripting the perfect comebacks in the shower and kicking yourself for not thinking to say it in the moment. 

It’s hard not talking to him. Not seeing him basically everyday. Because before this past weekend you were seeing him every second you both had to spare. You’re mad at him but you miss waking up in his arms. You miss the late night texts, him wanting you, coming to you and making you feel things you’ve never felt before. Maybe you’re delusional. Was that all this was? Sex and pillowtalk? After what he said Sunday night it seems that way and he made you feel bad for ever thinking otherwise. You’re not stupid, you know that friends with benefits exist and fuckbuddies are such a common thing. And you didn’t even need to be his friend if he really didn’t want you to be! There was never even a need for some conversation about labels because to you it just seemed so obvious! No one could fake that desperation and need. That wanting passion you both shared. The things he said as you gave him everything. Your body, your thoughts, your heart. His whispers of wanting you and how good you make him feel. 

Of course he felt good. He was fucking you raw almost every night and you let him because you’d fallen in love with him. But were you even friends to begin with? Did he see you as anything more than a body to do whatever he wanted with? You thought he wanted you. You were his. He told you that. 

This week has been hell but you push forward. Trying not to isolate yourself and staying in touch with some tutoring friends. Unfortunately, Miguel is so popular that you always find yourself running into his friends too. But you’re realizing more and more that no one knows about you. It’s like Miguel didn’t want anyone to know he was with you. Not even his closest friends. 

You’re sitting in the library for a tutoring session. Last minute cramming before the last exams later that day. Typing on your laptop, a student at your side and helping him on a calculus study guide. Elbow leaning on the table, watching him work, checking what he’s doing as he’s doing it. “Simplify it first, then use the formula…” You say softly and he does as you say, erasing some and correcting himself. “And then just the same on the next one?” He asks and you nod. Patient. That word is in your mind. Remembering when he said it. You were a little too patient with Miguel. 

Miguel’s watching all of this happen. Standing behind the library door, hidden mostly and only peering in through the window in the door. He finally caught up to you after days of trying to get to you. He tried multiple times to catch you in the library this week but he always missed you. Every night he debated texting you but ultimately decided he wanted you to text him first. Mostly because he had no idea what to say. He just wanted you back. For things to go back to the way they were. He’s pissed himself off. In his mind it’s like he’s convinced himself you don’t want to talk to him. 

The library is mostly empty except for you and your tutee. He wants to get you alone right now but doubts he can. Especially when you’re in the middle of doing something. But what you’re doing can’t be as important as what he needs to say to you. As important as him. His hand is aching badly as it has all week since Sunday night. Hidden in his pocket. He hasn’t done anything about it. He’s been taking ibuprofen but it’s not doing much.

If he has to wait hours to talk to you, then so be it. He won’t let this go on any longer. You’re going to talk to him whether you have anything to say or not. Somehow he’s managed to turn his desperation into anger. He leans against the wall outside the library door. Staring at the pattern on the floor. Fidgeting with the seam inside his jacket pocket. Sighing deeply, he feels uneasy thinking about what he’s going to say to you. What you might say to him. He’s got to act tough so he doesn’t lose control of the conversation. If he does he’s sure he’ll lose you. Because he knows deep down that he’s the asshole here. It’s his fault. And he’s scared to beg you for another chance. 

These feelings are foreign to him. Never before has he acted this way over someone and he doesn’t know why. Is there something wrong with me? He thinks. That always seems to be his first thought. A while goes by and his mind swirls with thoughts of you.

He’s lost in thought and only glances up as he hears the doors at the end of the hall swinging closed. Someone must have walked by him. He pushes off the wall, instantly going to the window in the library door and seeing you’re finally alone. His heart thumps in his chest. Clenching his swollen bruised hand in his pocket. He sighs and forces himself to walk inside. 

He gets halfway to you before you suddenly look up. Stopping him in his tracks. And it’s like he suddenly feels like he’s doing something wrong. Eyes locked and breath caught in both your chests. 

It’s been four fucking days. Not a call, not a text. Nothing. And now he’s here. You look away first. Back down to your laptop to continue typing. And he continues walking, stopping at the edge of the table across from you. 

It’s silent. Not a word dared spoken until…

“I need to talk to you.” The tall man finally speaks, towering over the table. Silence follows as you think about how to go about this. You thought about this moment all week. All the different scenarios and possibilities. You imagined melting into his arms as you’ve done a million times by now. But thinking back to all those moments it’s like none of that ever mattered because it didn’t matter to him. How can you trust him again when he treated you like he wanted you and then told you, you were never supposed to happen. After he finally spoke, it lit a fire inside you. “I’m busy right now.” You say softly, keeping your eyes locked on your laptop screen. While this time away from him has been hell and you’ve been heartbroken over this, he’s also been a total dick. You don’t want to let him get away with it. You don’t know how you’re going to do that but you try not to bend completely to his will. Your attention is directed back to your keyboard, typing away and ignoring him. All those comebacks are stuck in your throat. Miguel frowns, watching you. 

He’s been trying all week to find you. To talk to you. Trying to find sneaky ways so that he doesn't have to beg for your attention. And now seeing you ignore him. He wants your attention and he’s gonna get it. 

After a few beats of heavy silence, he walks around the table. You don’t look up, not even sparing him a glance. Glaring at your laptop screen and seeing his movement in your peripherals. He silently walks to the seat right next to you. Pulling it out and slipping down into it to sit beside you. His hands shoved back into his pockets as he sits like he intends to stay. 

“Y/n… hey...” He says gently, trying to get your attention. Turning in his chair slightly to face you more, his knee pressing softly into the side of your thigh. He can see your anger, he can feel it too. “I’m not talking to you.” You say without looking at him. “Well I’m talking to you…” He says so softly, one could mistake the tone for sweet nothings. You sigh, closing your laptop with a click, you grab your bag. Ready to just leave and brush him off if he’s not going to take the hint to leave you alone. “No…no.” He says softly and reaches across you, taking your bag, lifting it over and onto his side. So you can’t get to it. 

An annoyed huff escapes your lips, crossing your arms and staring straight ahead to avoid him. You’re not good at confrontation. Never had to do something like this before. 

His hand comes up to brush your hair back behind your ear. The backs of his fingers brushed across your cheek. And you brush his hand away when he does it. Is he really trying that right now?

“Stop it.” You sigh, pushing his hand away absentmindedly so he opts for resting his arm on the back of your chair. “Come on… let’s talk about this.” He says and you’re starting to fume inside. Now he wants to talk? After you begged him not to leave, begged him to talk to you Sunday night? You look over at him angrily and he keeps his arm around the back of your chair. His broad shoulders give him an advantage. “What do you want?” You glare at him and he sighs. He knew you might be angry but he’s never seen you look at him that way. “Why did you even come here? Just to make things worse?” You frown and keep your arms crossed, closed off from him. “I came here to speak with you.” He says calmly, trying to maintain the control he’s been losing all week. “Well you’re not doing much speaking.” You sigh. A beat of silence follows. 

“I want you to come over… tonight…” He says in that soft tone again. In his mind the both of you just need some time and things can go back to normal. “We can cool off and then you can come over and we can just move on from this.” He says and leans back a bit as if that’s that. Everything’s fixed? 

“What are you talking about?” You look at him like he’s from another planet. “Can’t we just move on from this?” He asks, patience running even thinner. “This has gone on long enough… I’m tired of it… come over…” He says again and he doesn’t even realize how disappointing this all is to you. 

You sigh softly. Feeling let down. He couldn’t even apologize. Couldn’t fix the problem he created. He didn’t come here to explain, or apologize, or to check up on you. The words just start to flow now. 

“So you just came here to get your dick wet, is that it?” You say and stare him dead in the eyes. But his expression changes, brow raises in a certain surprise. He wasn't expecting you to say something like that. 

“No… I… I wanted to…” He starts but it’s like he can’t find the words. “I just wanted to see you.” He says feeling like he’s teetering on a very dangerous line right now. And silence follows. 

Why must he be so confusing? It’s like he’s making it your fault that he has no idea what he wants or how he feels. This week started with you feeling so small and insignificant. You told yourself that he’d never talk to you again after the things he said. That he really regretted being with you. That you were never supposed to happen. Just like he said. But now he’s back and he doesn’t even apologize? He just wants to act like none of it ever happened? Like he didn’t break your heart? 

“Why did you ask me to tutor you? That day?” You suddenly ask as it’s something you’ve been wondering and these are the things he’s not good at talking about. He knows all of this started with him acting like a greedy douchebag but he didn’t expect to feel this way towards you. He doesn’t want to tell you the real reason he invited you to his dorm a month ago. The real reason being he wanted a quick easy fuck with someone who seemed eager and innocent. He feels like a fucking jerk. “I don’t know…” He sighs and shakes his head, looking down at the table then back up at you. All your words just seem to come spilling out now.

“Well you knew that I liked you...” You state as if it should be obvious. “What do you mean?” He asks and your brow furrows. Is he serious? “You… you knew that I liked you. When you asked me to tutor you? A month ago??” You ask hopefully, trying to confirm what you hoped to be true. You had thought he knew you had feelings for him all this time. You even hoped those feelings were returned. “N-no I… I mean I assumed maybe you might have. I didn’t really think about it too much” He says a bit nervous about where this is going. His cool control slipping. But everyone likes him so it just makes sense that you would like him too. That’s why you didn’t refuse him. And it’s all getting twisted up in his head. “Didn’t think about it? Like… it wasn’t important to you whether I liked you or not?” 

And the silence falls over the both of you right then. “Well then what is this? What have we been doing?” You frown at him, waving your hands in the air a bit because you just can’t understand how you got to this point and he just keeps acting so oblivious. And he’s losing control. 

“No. Wait. I didn’t say it right. I-” 

“Why did you start doing all this then? If you didn’t even like me in the first place?” 

His eyes go wide, not having an answer that wouldn’t make you feel even worse. “I don’t know…” He says again. He doesn’t seem to know a goddamn thing. “Was it just to string me along?! Is this all just a joke to you?! Are you trying to make fun of me or something?” You press for answers, feeling more heartbroken the longer he doesn’t give you a real answer. “No! It’s not! I am not trying to make fun of you!” He exclaims, shaking his head. This isn’t going how he wanted. This is spinning out of his control and he’s on the verge of all this collapsing. If this happened with anyone else he’d just forget it ever happened in the first place. But he couldn’t forget you if he tried. He doesn’t understand that feeling. 

“You’ve just admitted you didn’t even like me when you first started this… and after a month of me giving you nothing but sex, you still just ‘don’t know’?” 

“No, that’s not what I mean.” 

“That’s exactly what you just said! And apparently I was never even supposed to happen in the first place.” You throw his own words back at him and he scoffs before scrambling to explain himself in a way that won’t make you hate him even more. 

“I freaked out… I don’t know why I freaked out. Can’t you just forget it? What I said was stupid I don’t even know what I was thinking…” He insists. “Seems like you were thinking a lot actually. That this was your plan all along. You don’t want a relationship, you just want a fucktoy…” You scoff and stand up from your seat, to which he immediately stands up too. His earlier confidence is crumbling. 

“Come on, I was… drunk!” He scrambles to justify his outburst Sunday night. 

“You said you weren’t drunk or were you lying about that too?” You move past him to grab your backpack from where he put it trying to keep it from you. 

“Can you just come over? Let’s forget about this, this is a waste of time.” He begs and follows you around as you’re collecting your things off the table and shoving them into your backpack. 

“I don’t think it’s a waste of time…” You say softly and shove your computer inside. “Yeah, well I do… you have wasted my time!” He raises his voice, trying to get a rise out of you but when he sees your disapproving expression he knows that wasn’t the right move. With one last zip, you’re starting to leave the empty library. And he follows frantically.  

“W-Wait! Just wait… w-what do you want me to do? You want me to block Dana’s number? I’ll do it!” He’s speaking fast and frantic, reaching for your hand and holding it to stop you from leaving him.

“I don’t want you to block Dana’s number… I don’t care.” You sigh, completely over all of this. It’s too confusing. He’s a mess you’re not sure you want to be a part of. 

“I’ll block her right now… you can watch me do it!

“Oh my god… enough…” 

“Please.”

“Enough!!” 

“I’ll cut her off… I don’t even want to see her anyway, I hate her…and we didn’t fuck on Sunday if that’s what you think!”

“Dana is not the problem”

“Dana must be the problem.”

“I’m telling you, she’s not!” You yell at him. And he finally shuts up, watching you wide eyed as you keep scolding him.

“Do you even hear yourself? D’you ever think that the problem might just be you? Are you incapable of just apologizing or do you genuinely not believe this is all your fault??! All of your problems just have to be other people’s problems right?!” And he flinches as you yell. 

He’s stunned by your words and the volume with which you just scolded him. He knows he deserves it but he just can’t stop himself from arguing. He doesn’t want you to hate him even though he deserves it. 

“Well I’m not perfect, okay? I can’t be…I can’t be perfect.” He pleads softly, holding onto your hand like a lifeline. A silent plea for you to not let go of him now.

“I’m not asking you to be perfect!” 

His eyes stay wide. Staring at you like you’ve just told him a deep dark secret. 

“I’m asking you to stop being a selfish asshole!!” 

Your voice doesn’t echo in this place padded with old books and hardwood. It's sturdy and final. And finally it seems like you’re getting through to him. Maybe he’s understanding.

“Don’t tell me you don’t feel the same. Do not tell me I was making it all up in my head. I’m not the one misreading things. You are.” You say. Your voice is softer now. Fragile as you can see he’s thinking about all that you just said.

Tell her you’re sorry, Miguel. He thinks to himself. He knows everything you’ve said is what he needs to hear. He knows he hurt you. What he said was not okay. And now he’s made you upset and angry too. 

“You’re right I… about everything…” He mumbles. Sighing and looking down. His fingers slipping away from your hand. Letting it go. Letting you go. 

“I… I’m sorry.” He finally says. And you let his apology sit. Allowing yourself time to decide if you’ll accept. If he deserves it. The silence is deafening. 

“I-I just…” He sighs deeply. At a loss for words. He just feels so stupid. Rubbing his forehead down to his cheek frustrated. Sighing ashamedly as he tries to think of what to say that could fix this. “You asked me… to tell you what I’m feeling and I-I don’t know…” He says softly. And you stare at him wide eyed as he admits this.

“What is that?” Your voice snaps him out of his thoughts for a moment. Looking back up at you confused. “Your hand.” You say, your eyes locked on his busted hand as he rubs his face. He pulls it behind his back. He doesn’t deserve your sympathy. “It’s nothing I-” He painfully clenches his hand behind his back. The guilt is overwhelming. Please don’t feel bad for me. He thinks to himself. You’ve been far too patient with him. 

“Show me.” You demand softly, looking in his eyes. And you’re serious. He sighs softly and brings his hand out, holding it out sheepishly to show you. The hand that’s held you, the hand that’s touched you… it’s cut up and bruised. 

“What happened?” You ask sternly with a hardened expression when you finally see the cuts in his knuckles and the bruises. His hand is mangled, swollen, purple and clearly would cause anyone lots of pain. “Don’t lie to me.” You sternly say. And he doesn’t dare lie to you again. “I just… punched my locker.” He looks down ashamed. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him like this. Broken and defeated. It’s not a good feeling, you don’t like seeing him like this. “When did this happen?” You ask firmly and he answers in a sigh. “Sunday.” Shoving his hand back in his pocket. It makes sense that he would have thrown a fit after he stormed out Sunday night. He must have been going about his week with his hand like that and not doing anything about it. “Did you go to the hospital?” He shakes his head at your question. Averting your gaze. “It’s gonna get worse if you don’t.” You insist and he just nods. For fear of his voice breaking if he found any words.

“I’m sorry Y/n… I’ll just go…” He says softly and steps back, and once again it’s like everything inside him is telling him to leave. You stand there. Not wanting to stop him this time. Watching him as he goes. 

“You should go to the hospital.” You say soft and serious as he walks past you. Staying still and not attempting to stop him from leaving. You’ve made your point. And he didn’t win. But neither of you won tonight. He nods softly and keeps his head down, walking past you to leave the library. And he’s going to try his hardest not to bother you again. You’re so kind, so patient, so real. And he fucked up the one good thing he had going on. The one thing that made him feel good. Instead of belittling you, he should have acknowledged that he has some messy feelings of his own. 

So he leaves. And you’re left standing in the library. You stood up for yourself. You told him off. But why do you feel so empty? Maybe it was seeing him so broken. When it comes to things that are good for him, he seems to forget himself. 

He leaves the library silently. Walking down the dim hallways of the building and then outside. It’s raining again. It’s been raining pretty much all week. Pulling his hood up, he walks down the front steps of the academic building. Walking through the rain and not even bothering to run this time. Letting the rain pelt his sweatshirt, soak right through to his skin. He feels so stupid. He feels confused. And he feels sorry. But you deserve better than him. 

Getting back to his residence building, he gets in the elevator. Staring at the floor and leaning his head against the wall as it travels up to his floor. He scoffs when the conversation replays in his head. His own words echoing and hearing himself act like such a dick. He didn’t know what other way to approach you other than to try and make things go back to normal. He wants things the way they were.

But he’s realizing the way things were is not fair to you. It’s not like all month the two of you just happened to cross paths. It’s not like you were sleeping with each other because there was no one else. It’s because neither of you can stay away from the other. It’s this messy obsession fueled with fire. He could touch you blind and know the pulse at your throat, the tips of your fingers, the plush of your stomach. He’d know the whispers of your voice, the fan of your breath over his cheek, the taste of your tongue. So then why is he so afraid? If he’s memorized every shimmering stretch mark, every inch of your skin, the sound of your voice, then why does he keep pushing you away? 

He wants you to be his… but he wants to be yours just as much. 

Miguel sighs as the elevator finally dings and the door opens. He keeps his head down, walking down the hall to his door. Unlocking it and walking inside. His hand hurts like hell. The cuts are just starting to heal but his fingers are still busted and swollen. It’s hard for him to open and close his hand all the way. 

His phone rings, vibrating in his pocket as he peels off his wet hoodie and kicks his shoes off. Pulling it out from his pocket, he sees who’s calling. He didn’t expect it to be you. And it’s not. It’s his Father. 

His heart sinks further, letting it ring, staring at the caller ID. This is the last thing he needs right now. Sitting on the edge of his bed, holding his vibrating phone in the palm of his hand, his eyes start to sting. Hot tears welling up and brimming in his eyes. When the ringing finally stops he drops his phone on the bed and drops his face into his hand. A shaky sigh trembling in his chest, swollen, hurting fingers clenching painfully on his lap. His arms wrap around himself, leaning over and down into his bed. He’s so tired. And he’s alone again just like always. He doesn’t feel bad for himself, he feels bad about himself. What is it about him that drives everyone away? You just answered that question for him tonight. It’s just him. 

...

“It… makes me… feel… steady? Like… like there’s nothing to worry about. Or like… y’know…” He sighed, flipping over to lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling as you looked over at him across the pillows. The words felt trapped in his chest but they flowed like a river from his lips. “Like things feel slow...in a good way.”

…

He remembers saying that. He remembers meaning every word. Right now he feels anything but steady. He's collapsed.

His tears dry after a while and he keeps trying to just fall asleep and forget all of this. Even for just a few hours. But he can’t seem to just fall asleep. His head hurts and all he wants is to rest for once after this shitty week. But his running mind won’t let him. 

His eyes crack open to check the time, his alarm clock blaring red in the darkness of his room. 2:17am. “Ugh…” He sighs, letting his head fall back onto the covers. He’s been sitting like this for hours now. 

Knock knock knock. 

He hears the knock on the door, flinching and sitting up slightly on his elbows. Watching the door and wondering if he’s hearing things. But there it is again. Three soft knocks. 

“Miguel?” Your soft voice sounds from the other side of the door and he sits up completely. Eyes wide and heart thumping. This is his last chance. He can’t mess it up this time. He immediately gets up and turns on his desk light, running a hand through his hair and going to the door, unlocking the bolt and opening it. He doesn’t care if it seems desperate, he is desperate. 

He looks smaller somehow. Or maybe you just feel bigger in some way. He’s staring at you as he stands in the opening of his door. And his immediate instinct is to try whatever he can to make things better. 

“Y/n… I’m sorry… I shouldn’t hav-”

“Put your shoes on.” You shush him softly. You didn’t come here for an apology.

“What?” He steps forward, not understanding your request. It’s 2am and you’re both half asleep anyway.

“Put your shoes on please.” You say again. “And a hoodie or something, it’s cold outside.” 

His brow furrows in confusion but he’s not going to argue with you right now. You’re here and talking to him so that’s what matters. Using his one good hand, he pulls his sneakers on at the door, grabbing his hoodie off the back of his desk chair. “Where are we going?” He asks and passes through his door to you. He’d go anywhere if it meant he could be with you right now. A soft hopeful expression on his face. “We’re going to the hospital.” 

To be continued…

images from pinterest

Taglist: @miguels-cock-piercings @queerponcho @club-danger-zone @bossva @softcrayon

@m4dyy @nommingonfood @bruhhvv

@jessies-unrelagated-thoughts @mauvecherie-writes @haveclayeveryday @kimivixen

@jadeloverxd @chiikasevennn @mvlanchqly @resident-cryptid

@x0tw0d57 @vampyboys @miguelspriscilla

@francesca-the-1st @migueloharacumslut @daisy-artfield @peachey-pie @izakopanyi2

@rinnako @ohara-whore @migueloharasbbm @razertail18 @laysmt

@tojiragdoll @maiyart @wazawazooo @mun-2996 @marshhbs

[thatwritterbeach]

One messed up bat pt.1

Dc masterlist all other parts found here

Batfam x femreader Jason x reader eventually

Warnings: angst, self harm, self hate, depression,

Summary:Y/n gets caught self harming by Damian, and Tim calls in some backup

A/N: I do not own dc booohooo ooc Tim, I don't spend much time watching/reading his robin sorry **^ so I can't remember if it's canon or from a fic but at this point who cares the storyline is all fucked so in this story I'm saying that Jason tried to call dick for help with his mom but dick was asleep/didn't pick up so Jay went alone and died, now Dick CAN NOT miss a phone call it sends him into a panic attack, thank you for coming to my trauma talk

ok so we all know the timeline is shit so this is the ages for this story only found it on a reddit post, fight me at dawn if you don't like it

Bruce Wayne (Batman) at 45

Barbara Gordon (Oracle) at 27

Dick Grayson (Nightwing) at 25

Jason Todd (Red Hood) at 22

Tim Drake (Red Robin) at 18

Damian Wayne (Robin) at 11

Y/n 21

not my gif^

(2 weeks ago)

"Y/n, you can't keep acting like a child you're twenty-one," Dick whisper shouted in the corner of the batcave.

"Dick, I'm not going to apologize for helping people-"

"You disobeyed a direct order. You could have been hurt, you can't be that kind of influence to Tim and Damian."

"You don't even live here, Dick, you can't just-"

"You're benched until further notice."

"You can't-"

"Benched," Bruce confirmed stepping over to them.

(1 week ago)

"Hey, Dick, do you have a sec," she asked into the phone then immediately bit firmly into her hand to hold back a sob.

"You're still benched," he said without remorse.

"That's not-you know what never mind." She hung up on him and threw the phone onto her bed heading to her en-suite bathroom to release the itch.

(present)

"Beloved! Beloved, look I-," Damian shouted with glee but cut himself off with a scream when he opened her unlocked bathroom door. He thought she was doing her face masks not...in the bathtub with blood dripping from her arms into pink bubble filled water.

"Damian wait," she called after his retreating form. Shit, shit. She hurried to drain the water and throw on her over sized t-shirt just managing to pull some boxers on when Damian burst back in with Tim, practically dragging him into the space.

"Damian what's the problem-"

"Fix her," he shouted with haste and was about to shove Tim into the room when he noticed y/n standing there looking fine.

"Damian, I'm ok, I promise," she tried to convince him softly. He looked from her to the tub, not even a drop of evidence in sight.

"No, you-I saw the blood. Tim she cut herself I saw it," he told the older boy trying to lunge for her arm but she side stepped him.

"Damian, give us a minute," Tim tried to gently shoo him away. Damian shook his head aggressively and latched himself onto her side, clinging to her like a koala. She combed her fingers through his hair and gently detangled him.

"Dami, Tim and I just need to have a quick chat, he's gonna fix me right up, aren't you, Tim," she asked, sending him a look that clearly gave direction.

"Yeah, kid, I'll take care of her, she'll be right as rain."

"You won't hurt yourself again?" He was giving her puppy eyes, looking his own age for once and it pulled on her heart strings.

"I won't," she agreed patting him on the head and crossing her fingers behind her back with the other hand. Damian gave her one last hug then hurried out of the room. There was an awkward silence as Tim stood blocking the doorway, his jaw ticking and toe nearly tapping.

"You know I have to tell."

"Please don't." She shook her head then grabbed the first aid kit beneath the sink.

"Let me," he said softly, taking it from her and getting out the supplies. When she set her arm on the counter for him to work he sucked in a breath. "Those are deep," he accused.

"I wasn't trying anything. I'm not stupid, just a heavy bleeder." She rolled her eyes where he couldn't see and hissed when he dumped alcohol on her arm.

"They almost need stitches."

"Butterfly stickers are fine," she said digging them out of the kit one handed.

"I at least have to tell Dick-"

"NO," she said so firm he actually stepped back to look at her.

"I have to tell someone, I can't watch you 24/7."

"I don't need babysat," she seethed.

"I can tell Bruce or I can tell Dick first. Either way you aren't doing this alone."

"I cant stop you?"

"Not a chance."

"Dick told me I needed to be a better influence for you. Sorry for fucking that up, but to be fair there's worse things about me. I tried to call him a week ago, I was feeling the um...the 'itch' so to speak but as soon as he picked up he told me I was still benched. I was so pissed that he immediately thought that's what I called for I told him never mind and hung up. You can't tell him that, after Jason you know he-"

"Hates missing phone calls," Tim finished for her. **^

Tim had every intention of telling him, he knew it would hurt but come on, she tried to get help. Of course she didn't ask anyone in the house, but he wasn't about to be offended she didn't ask the child or his newly adult self for help, and he sure as hell got the not wanting to tell Bruce.

"Why not Alfred?"

"Hmm?"

"Why didn't you go to Alfred for help."

"He deals with enough shit from the rest of you, coming in half dead each night."

"That doesn't mean you come second, and sure as hell not last, we love you."

"Yeah, well it doesn't feel like it most of the time." He was finished with her arm and she resisted the urge to yank it away from him. One of Jason's flannel was on a towel hook on the wall and she quickly put it on to hide the bandages.

"I'm gonna go make sure Dami's ok," she said gently moving him out of the way. The second she was gone he hurried back to his room for his phone, that he'd left on the charger and yanked the cord out. He hit speed dial 3, Dick's cell, and held the phone to his ear while he headed out on his balcony to totally not scale down the wall instead of taking the stairs. Dick picked up on the 4th ring with a tired sigh and a 'this better be good' Tim told him to wait a sec while he got way out of hearing range.

"Did Y/n call you last week?"

"Uh, yeah, why?"

"Did you jump her case and not give her a second to speak?"

"You sound a bit pissed timbers, cut to it and tell me what I did. I haven't slept in 37 and a half hours."

"And you call me an idiot," he snorted.

"Tick tock bro," Dick mumbled head already sinking into his pillow.

"She'd been cutting herself and she called you to ask for help, well, she didn't say that word, but she was calling to tell you what she'd been doing to herself," Tim stated with little to no remorse for the heart attack he'd just given his brother.

"She what," Dick shouted throwing off the blankets and grabbing his go bag.

"I assume you'll catch the next train?" The sound of Dick falling and cursing while he hopped into pants could be heard and Tim nodded and hung up. Thankfully because the author said so Dick had switched from his police job to a remote roll in Wayne industries he just stayed in Bludhaven to have his independence and not deal with Bruce more than he had to. Alfred insisted he come for monthly dinners and he did.

Tim went back inside to hunt for Y/n and Damian and found them having mugs of hot chocolate together on the kitchen counter.

"So, you're ok," Damian asked in a small voice using a stir stick to hold his marshmallows under the liquid.

"I told you, Tim fixed me, and he probably ran off to call Dick so he could come make double sure I'm ok. You don't need to worry, I promise I'll always be here to have hot cocoa with," she replied, crossing her heart and holding out her pinkie to him. He hooks his with hers and to her surprise continued to hold on, not moving to actually hold her hand but simply letting their hands rest on the counter pinkies linked. Not wanting to interrupt Tim quietly made his way back out, he still had some calls to make.

Jason picked didn't pick up on the first call, or the second but finally on the third he answered out of breath and with gunshots loud in the foreground.

"The hell dya' want," he all but shouted into the line dodging hits and getting in several of his own.

"Sorry, I'll call back later-"

"No, talk now, I got it under *way too loud thud* control."

"Just uh, get here as quick as you can, nobodies dying so-"

"Make it quick but don't freak, got it." And he hung up. Next was Bruce who surprise surprise didn't answer a call or text, so Tim left a message.

"Get off Selena and come help your kid," he said with more aggression than snark. (this doesn't feel at all like something Tim would say but i'm not familiar enough with his character to fix it)

This time when he went to the kitchen it was just Y/n on the counter Damian had gone who knows where.

"So who all did you tell?"

"Just Dick so far, he's on his way. Jason was in the middle of a fight so he's coming later but I didn't tell him and Bruce didn't pick up-"

"Shocker, dude nabs all these kids then can't be bothered to spend time with them outside of a Halloween costume," she scoffed rolling her eyes.

"You're not wrong but-"

"Oh, don't start Stan." She waved him off hopping down to wash the mugs not willing to leave them for Alfred.

9-20-24

[ylangelegy]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ take my word for it ♡︎ jeonghan.

── .✦ jeonghan uses futureme.org to schedule send you e-mails until june 25, 2026. here are some of them. ⋮ happy hannie day, everyone! 👼 + lowercase intentional. format is mm/dd/yy. can be interpreted as romantic/platonic.

💌 09/27/24 ... "ha! i bet you thought you heard the last from me, huh? you won't be able to escape me that easily. hehe. you'll be getting more of this, but i won't tell you when you'll be getting them 'cause otherwise it won't be a surprise. i can already imagine the look on your face while you're reading this. don't frown; you'll only get wrinkles."

💌 10/03/24 ... "you probably expected i'd have an e-mail scheduled for tomorrow. but i can't have you expecting these little messages, can i? eat something good on my behalf. i'll know if you don't celebrate my birthday~"

💌 10/13/24 ... "you once asked me if i would feel bad about the boys touring without me. honestly? i still don't know the answer. ㅋㅋㅋ sorry if that's underwhelming. but one thing is for sure— they're going to do well. make sure to keep an eye on them! just because i'm gone, it doesn't mean you can stop watching them!"

💌 12/28/24 ... "it's the week between christmas and new year that's always weird, isn't it? it's because you're sandwiched between two holidays and time doesn't seem real. i hope it's not too cold wherever you are. as for me... well, you can just check the internet for the weather in my place. hehe. belated merry christmas, advanced happy new year, and everything in between."

💌 02/04/25 ... "i'm sure you're going to get a bunch of valentine's greetings and flowers, so this is me beating all of them by greeting you on february one (suck it, losers). as for flowers? here: 💐"

💌 02/14/25 ... "(of course i'd still get you real ones. duh.) (unless cheol didn't get the delivery right. if that's the case, i'll kill him.)"

💌 04/01/25 ... "Hello. This is PLEDIS Entertainment. We would like to provide an update on SEVENTEEN member Jeonghan... who misses you lots. 🤡 ㅋㅋㅋ happy april fool's! i almost wanted to joke that i would be coming home early, but i think that would make you really upset. be thankful i'm feeling nice as i draft these up."

💌 05/26/25 ... "ten years? criminal."

💌 07/13/25 ... "hey, hey, hey. today's a very important day! do you know why? i'll give you some time to guess. if you get it wrong, i'll be very upset. there's a second mail that will come tomorrow, so make sure you get the answer right~"

💌 07/14/25 ... "spoiler alert: yesterday was just a normal day. ㅋㅋㅋ i just wanted you to think of me. did it work? i hope it did. because i'm sure that i'm thinking of you right now."

💌 09/27/25 (1) ... "wow, time really flies. one year down, one year to go. i still have a couple more of these up my sleeve, although i'm sure that doesn't surprise you. anyway. eat well, okay? and take care. that's a threat."

💌 09/27/25 (2) ... "sorry. i always forget to say the words that matter the most. but you know what they are, don't you?"

💌 10/04/25 ... "fuck it. miss you. there."

[aruanism]

any personal hc's for aruani?? either be modern setting or canon!!

Headcanons :3

btw tysm for asking! i didn't answer last night because i knew it'll take me too long to write (it was like 12 am)

Castes

- Since Armin is part of the lowest tiers of the castes system, he's very undesirable; Annie on the other hand, is undesirable because she's scary. The two of them get together because there's no competition and only mutual pining lolz!! The two are just "I thought you didn't like me because I'm a geek!" and "What? No! I thought YOU didn't like me back and kept walking the opposite way because I was the delinquent!"

- The day their relationship was already becoming a rumor, no one dared to approach Armin because of the students' fear of being beaten up by his girlfriend

- Annie posted a soft launch pic on her socials with a picture of Armin's face covered in kiss marks (only one side of his face minus the eyes)

- That post of hers literally did nothing lol people still found out it's armin because of the glasses and fuckass bob

- Armin has a lot of extracurricular activities which led to minor arguments between him and annie, though they eventually make up over sweets

- I do think that Armin's family is kinda well off and that his parents aren't dead; both of them are researchers! Armin buys Annie the things she loves the most. (Applicable in modern universe as well)

Cadets

- Armin and Annie would forage berries and edible flowers, then make them teas and jams that they made a profit off of. At times, they go out together on dates and to buy supplies that they need.

- After curfews at night, Armin sneaks off to the girls' dorm and gossip about the boys. Armin sits down on Annie's bed along with her (then the two lovebirds cuddle together after until 2 hours before their official wake up time to avoid suspicion which the girls don't know about !!!)

Post-canon

- The two got married in Paradis. Annie was 27 and Armin 26. It was a simple celebration and Historia officiated the wedding (queen perks)

- THEY SHARE A ROOM!! However, they don't share a bed sometimes since Armin spends his nights in the office

- Armin and Annie did not have pets as ambassadors

- After finding a permanent place to live in, the two had two children, one kitten, and a puppy (adopted at the same time and already had a bond)

Modern (I have lots of modern based aus 😞 that'll be for another post if someone asks)

- Annie met Armin at a coffee shop as a student part-timer barista and she found him attractive lawlzers. Turns out he's a mutual friend, so she got his number from Mikasa

- The two's first date was at a museum

- Annie dreamt of meeting Armin weeks prior

[ataleofcrowns]

CH11 Release Dates

Hellooo, hope your summer is going well so far 🌻

It's been a while since I gave a solid update but I wanted to wait until I was absolutely sure I could finally announce the CH11 release dates.

I'm at 62k words at the moment, having finished A's route and filling in the last scenes for D's route as well. The drafts for each LI route will be finished within the week, but there are some portions I'm not completely happy about, so I will have to take time to do rewrites as well. I've already been doing a LOT of editing of the past month lol.

But, I can finally get started on writing the last 15-20k words that consist of the main plot for this chapter!! It does mean that if I want to make it in time for an early access release, it might be a situation where only the LI routes are released for Patrons, and then the full chapter will be released together with the public release.

Hopefully it won't come to that, but I've never written a chapter this huge before, so I'm letting you know just in case that ends up happening!! As for the release dates:

Tier 3, Crown: August 17

Tier 2, Successor: August 24

Tier 1, On the Run: August 27

Public release: August 31

So there you have it!! I'll also be opening up beta reader applications during the coming weekend, so keep an eye out for it.

That's it for now!! Until next time 💖

[amayaonly1]

Verses Unwritten: A Rap Odyssey

Eminem x Rapper!OC

Verse 2

About: Eminem grapples with his post-rehab struggles, battling self-doubt as he attempts to reignite his creative spark. The blank page feels heavier, like it carries the weight of everything he'd lost. Then Dre introduces him to Genji, a name that stirs something distant in his memory. Now, as she steps into the studio, calm and unassuming, Eminem can't help but wonder if their collaboration can help him reclaim the fire he feared he'd lost.

"Verses Unwritten: A Rap Odyssey" Chapter List: Verse 1 | Verse 2 | Verse 3 | Verse 4 | Verse 5 | Verse 6 | Verse 7 | Verse 8 | Verse 9 | Verse 10 | Verse 11 | Verse 12 | Verse 13 | Verse 14 | Verse 15 | Verse 16 | Verse 17 | Verse 18 | Verse 19 | Verse 20 | Verse 21 | Verse 22 | Verse 23 | Verse 24 | Verse 25 | Verse 26 | Verse 27

Disclaimer: This work is a work of fiction, and any involvement of the character Genji is purely fictional and not representative of any real person.

Eminem sat slouched in the studio chair, staring at the soundboard, lost in his own head. The air felt stale, the hum of the equipment barely masking the silence in his mind. It had been weeks since he'd come back from the edge, back from the overdose that nearly wrote his last chapter, let alone on his daughter's birthday. Getting sober had been like crawling through broken glass, a raw and relentless fight that didn't end just because the pills were gone. The hardest part wasn't staying clean - it was staying himself. He'd spent the better part of a decade as that guy: a walking grenade, spitting venom and breaking charts. Now, as he tried to inch his way back, he couldn't tell if he was rebuilding or just picking up scraps of who he used to be.

The notepad on his lap sat, filled but neglected. He tapped his pen against it, frustrated. The beats Dre played knocked were gritty, grimy, the kind of shit he'd once feasted on. But they weren't pulling anything out of him. Lines would come, then fizzle out when the music starts. What was the point of coming back if he couldn't bring fire with him? Was this it? Was this the part where he watched everything he built fall apart because he couldn’t find that edge again?

"Yo, Em, you good?" Dre's voice cut through the fog, like it always did. He'd been patient, as much as he could be. He'd seen Eminem spiral, seen him crash, and now he was watching him claw his way back. But he wasn't one to let excuses fly. He stood at the console, hand resting on a beat pad, looking at Em like he could see the storm brewing under his skin.

The said rapper grunted, somewhere between a shrug and a nod. "Yeah. I'm good. Just… stuck."

Dre didn't press him right away. Instead, he cracked his knuckles absentmindedly, like he was thinking through something. "Look, I get it. You’re grindin', but maybe too hard. That's all I'm sayin'."

Eminem looked up, one brow raised. "And?"

"And," Dre leaned back against the console, a smirk playing at his lips. "I got someone I want you to meet."

Eminem shot him a look. "Man, I don't need no cheerleader. I need somethin' real."

"She's real. Trust me." Dre's tone didn’t budge. "She's got that thing, man. Could be good for the album."

Eminem frowned, dubious. Not that he didn't trust Dre, as someone who owed much of his career to the man, but he's already got Jeff who'd been with him for a few years. It'd take him at least this album before he even thinks of collaborating with someone outside of his circle

"Who is it?"

"Genji."

The name hit like a trigger. He'd heard of her years ago. One of the pioneers who'd sparked Japanese hip hop, a scene that didn't even exist until she came through in the late 80's and flipped it on its head. She wasn't just a name overseas either. Behind the scenes, she'd worked with the biggest players in the game: Dre himself, Snoop, Big Daddy Kane, Rakim, even Pac back in the day. She was someone whose influence was stitched into beats he'd rapped on without even realising it.

Still, he couldn't help but feel the doubt creep in. He'd always admired people who built something out of nothing, and she had done exactly that. But what was she supposed to do here? Help him? After everything? He wasn't sure if it was pride or fear making his throat tighten.

"She's got credentials, yeah," he said slowly. "But what's she gonna do for me, Dre? This ain't Japan."

"You'll see." Dre pushed away from the console, grabbing his phone off the table. "Just trust me on this. She's comin' through tomorrow."

The door clicked shut, leaving the rapper alone again with the hum of the equipment and the blank page in front of him. He turned back to his blank notepad, exhaling slowly. He stared at it for a long while, like the silence might eventually give way to something. But when it didn't, he dropped the pen and leaned back, closing his eyes, still trying to process what happened mere seconds ago. If Dre believed in her, there had to be something there. But deep down, a voice whispered: What if even she can't fix this?

The studio was quiet, save for the faint static buzz of the monitors warming up. Eminem was already there, slouched in the same chair, but this time he wasn't blank. He’d filled half a page overnight; half bullshit, half something. Enough to feel like he wasn't starting from nothing.

The door creaked open, pulling him out of his thoughts. Eminem's eyes lifted from his notes just as Dre walked in, motioning someone forward. "C'mon in."

She stepped in, and for a second, the rapper wasn't sure what to expect. There she was standing in the doorway with a kind of soft confidence. Slinging on her shoulder was a black canvas drawstring bag, her brown hair was tied back, and she was dressed low-key: a beige loose-fit sweatshirt, slim-fit denim, and white Reebok shoes. But there was something deliberate, yet composed, about her presence. She didn't look at the floor or try to prove herself with swagger. She just smiled faintly, the corners of her mouth curling up like she already knew what kind of room she was walking into.

This was Genji. The girl who’d revolutionized a sound halfway across the world. The one Dre and Snoop had talked about like she was family, even back when she was just a kid making waves. He'd respected her from afar for years, the way she'd built her lane, stayed true to it, and worked with legends without chasing the spotlight.

"Em," Dre said, gesturing her forward. "This is Genji."

Her smile was small but genuine, and when she looked at Eminem, she held his gaze longer than most people did. Relaxed, but deliberate. "Hey," she greeted quietly, her voice smooth and calm. "Nice to finally meet you. Dre's told me a lot."

"Yeah?" he replied, tilting his head as he eyed her cautiously. "Dre's been talkin' you up for a while, too."

Behind her, the said man chuckled under his breath. Crossing his arms, like he predicted what was to come, he added, "Told you, she don't need hype."

"He's overselling it," Genji said softly, her tone sincere. "I'm just here to help."

There was no arrogance, no false modesty either. It threw Eminem off. He was used to people coming into the studio hungry and ready with something to prove. But she was different: quiet, almost mild, but not meek. Yet, her words landed like she meant them. She didn't even need to impress anyone like the rest. She was the impression.

For a moment, he hesitated. Part of him still didn't know if this would work. He admired her, sure. But after everything he'd been through — everything he'd lost — what if nothing could pull him back? What if not even someone like her could light the fire again?

"Alright," he said finally, gesturing toward the chair across from him. "Let's see what you got."

Genji smiled faintly and stepped forward, the quiet confidence in her steps carrying more weight than words ever could. He watched her, pen still in hand, a flicker of something unfamiliar breaking through the fog.

[aster-blogging-dracula]

Reading BlueCatWriter's Dracula along with Dracula Daily

Ok so I've been meaning to read all of @bluecatwriter 's wonderful Dracula hc fics in order for a long time but I never have time to get with it so I decided to read it along with Dracula Daily this year.

If anyone else wants to do the same, here are the dates (or aproximante dates*) for each fic. (idk if someone has done this already but oh well) (BlueCat if you read this feel free to correct me if i got any date wrong)

*(Since there's 2 pre-canon fics and 2 days of may before dd, i'm setting those fics on those dates. Dates of undated fics are also adjusted to not overlap with date of other fics)

*(The order during the varna stay is a bit wacky since the book gets pretty vague for 2 weeks there but I tried to adjust it as well as possible.)

1-A picnic in may. May 1st 2-Home before you know it. May 2nd 3-I too can love. May 16th 4-Three letters. May 19th 5-The prisioner. May 28th 6-Tonight is mine. June 29th 7-Stay awake. August 14th 8-In sickness and in health. August 24th 9-Full of vague fear. August 24th 10-A golden afternoon. August 31st 11-A doctor’s confidence. September 2nd 12-I come to my friend when he call. September 2nd 13-Blood she must have. September 7th 14-After the transfusion. September 7th or 8th 15-Sleeping beauty. September 10th 16-The wolf in the window. September 17th 17-Sympathy. September 18th 18-Things will be different. September 19th 19-My only son. September 19th 20-Come, my husband. September 29th 21-These others. September 29th 22-Lucy’s second death. September 29th 23-How good and thoughtful. September 29th 24-Brandy, bath, and beadtime. September 30th or October 1st (preferably the former since the dd entry is slightly shorter that day) 25-A pale orphan. October 2nd 26-You will not call in vain. Between September 30th and October 11th?? 27-Renfield’s death. October 3rd 28-Safe for one more moment. October 3rd 29-A week in varna. Between October 15th and October 27th? 30-Waiting. Between October 17th and October 27th? 31-Hungry. Between October 17th and October 27th? 32-Judge moneybag. Between October 15th and October 27th? 33-How i miss my phonograph. October 24th 34-Mem. get recipe for mina. Between October 15th and October 27th? 35-Farewell, sweet friends. October 30th 36-Starlight on the sereth. October 31st 37-Step into the light. Between October 15th? and November 6th (if reading in one sitting wait until november 6th)

38- Love multiplying. November 7th onward

Omg guys it's may already I'm so exited for this. This year I know I will be up do date with everything even tho I'm busy with my End of Degree Project because the dracula fixation i caught last year is a part of my life now I have been planning this so long guys.

[usmsgutterson]

Okay, five hours ago I was like "tim gutterson timeline where?? me make one" and now. we have this. a timeline is in the post but it's rough, and this is more of a post that has a lot of information and headcanons in a rambled out format because whenever something gets stuck in my head, I write how I talk and I don't feel like editing this to make it shorter, so. yeah.

OKAY SO!! Going off of the assumption that's part canon and part headcanon that Tim would've joined the military at least within the year he graduated, you can't just join the army ranger snipers on a whim. You usually start in a differing unit (typically something like infantry, as far as what google said) and then you join the rangers and then you have to either volunteer or be recommended for sniper school, and it is a whole fuckin process that I have so much in my little head about. this is 20 gallons of information in a 10 gallon head and I feel like I'm going to explode.

OKAY, SO!! I have this little thing in my brain that's telling me Tim would've worked for at least three or four years in infantry before completing the ranger assessment and selection program, then he'd spend at least another three or four years working in the rangers before getting himself into the army ranger sniper school in one way or the next. As for length of schooling I've seen anywhere from 4-8 weeks.

for deployments I've seen varying lengths, but commonly I've seen around 3-6 months with the max being twelve. Leave is also pretty short for army ranger snipers (2-4 weeks) for I'm assuming mental reasons--they're trained to keep sharp all the time and short amounts of time for leave before they're back in combat keep their minds as sharp as possible.

Doing the math on that so far, if Tim joined the military at 18-19 years old, he would've been working in infantry until he was 21-23, then went from infantry to working in the rangers and worked with them until he was 25-27 before going through the sniper training and becoming a sniper around the same age as he was when he would've been recommended for sniper school.

Say he leaves the military entirely after his three total tours as a sniper, he would've been discharged when he was around 26-29 and in the military for around a decade. My math might be wrong (I have a brain that likes to go weeeeeee every time something kicks my interest up so. often times my head moves faster than my fingers can type and math has never really been my strongest suit) but even then, even if it's wrong, I feel like the latest he would've left the military would've been around 30 years old.

Okay, so to put years and dates and shit to this timeline, here we have the roughened out timeline of Tim Gutterson:

1980: we'll say around 1980 for a birth year bc Jacob Pitts was born in late 1979 so 1980 isn't that far off. I feel in my chest that Tim was born somewhere between September and December because I know people born in between September and December (with the only exception being october, I do not know anyone with an october birthdate) and the ones born in September, particularly, are the same breed of sarcastic Tim turns into after he leaves the military, a.k.a the one we see in the show.

1998: tim graduates high school yay!! He takes the ASVAB and goes about the whole of the military recruitment process, joins infantry to start.

2002: okay so going with the four year thing, Tim would work in infantry until around 2002-ish, at which point he takes the RASP and joins the rangers.

2006: after working in the rangers for four years, he gets recommended to join the snipers yay!! yay for timothy!! he's around 26 at this point and after sniper school he joins the 75th ranger regiment.

also 2006: let's say his first deployment occurs in the same year as when he becomes a sniper. It lasts six months and he gets about a months worth of leave in the aftermath. for ease of purpose and also ease of math, let's say that this deployment begins in June of 2006, ends in December, and the leave takes him from december to january.

2007: he gets deployed again in late january, and the deployment lasts until around the middle to late middle of July. It's his second and final deployment to Afghanistan, and after two weeks of leave, he's deployed again in August.

2008: after being on deployment through his 27th birthday, he comes home in february of 2008.

The timeline for military stuff ends right there if you're following the loose canon that exists (I say loose because the wikipedia states that Art only indicated a t l e a s t three tours total as an army ranger sniper. At least is not an exact number but instead the absolute minimum number of tours he did as a sniper.) but for me?? personally, I don't. I feel like he'd have at least another tour or two under his belt because he seems the stubbornly dedicated type and he knows that leaving means going back home when there's not really a home to go back to I feel like he'd prolong it at least a little bit.

If you follow the shows canon, Tim kind of just fucks around a little bit until he goes to Glynco when he's around 33-34 years old. It's said in the show in the first season that Tim is the office newbie who's been there less than a year when Raylan comes in, but I subscribe to the headcanon that Tim would've worked for six or so months, if not a full year, in an office down in georgia before he was transfered to Kentucky.

OKAY, TIMELINE ASIDE, tim would've seen a lot of shit in the like, decade or so he worked in the military. I've been reading on reddit a little bit and the bond we see in season four during Tims scenes with Mark makes a lot of sense--it was a common theme in what I did read that the army ranger snipers had a lot of cameraderie with each other and from what the reading I did told me, a lot of them went on to miss it after they left.

I need to stop rambling now so I can focus on the fic i'm trying to write but like,, if anyone wants to blab at me about this, blabbing is encouraged because tim gutterson is not leaving my head until I go to sleep, and I'm not going to go to sleep for at least a little while yet.

[softstarlite]

The Casualty of Love

CHAPTER 2

Summary: He's back home. You have almost forgotten how warm his eyes were and how big your crush for him was.

Warnings: Age gap (Javier is 40 and reader is 27), talks of baby loss, talks of pregnancy, angst, cheating, mentions of cancer, mentions of death.

Rating: +18 (not explicit)

Word Count: 2.9k

Chapter 1 / Masterlist

A/N: here you go guys!! Second chapter is up!! I'm feeling so much better from my stupid cold. I would like to keep a schedule with posting, my goal is to post at least one new chapter every week but I had a cornea transplant less than 5 months ago (I still have 14 stitches on my right eye) so sometimes I need to rest my eye from screen time or the pain sometimes gets too bad and I need to rest in general, so I don't know if I'll be able to meet my goal every week, sorry in advance. I hope you guys like this new chapter!! <3 <3

Divider by @saradika

Javier wipes the sweat of his hands on the front of his jeans for the fourth time in the last hour since he started getting ready to go to Maria´s house, he looks at his reflection on the mirror, he can feel fear engulf his body, fear of disappointing Maria, he wasn't the same man he was when he left for Colombia. That day…

His mom, Alma, had been diagnosed with lung cancer four months before it happened, when Lorraine had told him that she was pregnant, he was shit scared, how could he be a father? He didn't know anything about being one, he was only 27, he assumed that he had at least 5 or 6 years more before even thinking about having a family of his own.

He didn't hesitate to get on one knee and proposed to Lorraine, part of him was happy that his mom would be able to meet at least one of her grandchildren; the doctors had already prepare them for the worst, the cancer was very aggressive, and even if his mom was still young, only 44, they had detected it very late.

The night before the wedding Lorraine showed up at his parents ranch, crying her heart out. They were sleeping in different houses since it was bad luck to see each other before the wedding. He got really worried, he didn't believe in that tradition, she had been the one very keen in doing it so it was already rare that she had showed up there unannounced but even more that she showed up crying.

“Lor? What happened?” he had been sitting on the front porch when she appeared, he got up from his seat quickly and headed to her putting his hands on her cheeks “What is it Lor? Is the baby okay?” he asked her with so much worry in his voice.

Lorraine only kept saying sorry and shaking her head no again and again. “Please baby, tell me what is happening, are you hurt?” he pleaded her.

“I'm sorry Javi… I'm so sorry… There´s no baby…” she said, not able to meet his gaze.

“What? Baby…” he could feel tears in his eyes already, he thought that she had lost it, he never would've thought that she had done what she did. He tries to make her look at him ¡. “Baby…Lor, look at me. Baby it's not your fault, we need to take you-” he was interrupted by her.

“No, Javi… There's no baby, there never has been a baby…” she took a step away from him, feeling shame in what she had done.

“What? Lorraine, this is not funny… Stop it” that was the only possibility in his head, she must have been pranking him, she would never hurt him this way, she loved him, right?

“I'm so sorry Javi, baby…” she tried to reach for him now but he didn't say anything and just walked inside without a word.

The next morning no one could find Javier, until his mom saw a little note on the kitchen table where he had written that he had accepted the job with the DEA in Colombia that the rest could be explained by Lorraine.

You were only 14 when you were sat down by your mom and Alma and got the news about her sickness, that was your first heartbreak, but definitely not your last. You loved Alma like a second mother, she was there when you said your first words, she had been the one encouraging you when you took your first steps… You couldn't imagine a life and a world without her, without her smile or her kindness… No, it had to be a mistake, the doctors mixed up some papers and they gave her the diagnosis of someone else, she couldn't leave you…

When Javier left, you weren't given the real reason from the adults around you, they told you that he and Lorraine weren't together anymore and he had to go work in Colombia, that was it. Obviously, living in a place like Laredo you heard the truth very soon, and felt heartbroken all over again for him, as big as your crush for him was, when you saw how excited he was when he talked about anything related with the baby in the weekly dinners your families shared, it filled your heart to see him just happy, so you couldn't understand how Lorraine had been able to break him like that, she said that he loved him and wanted to spend her entire life with him but then do that? How can you be so cruel to someone that you supposedly love?

A year later from Javier´s move to Colombia, Alma passed away, you only remember crying for three days straight without even sleeping. You remember your mom telling you that “Javiercito is coming for the funeral, he'll be here tomorrow morning”, then the next thing you remember is been dressed in all black, that made you think that Alma would´ve hate it, then not been able to see the casket through the tears and the last thing you remember of that day was how Javier had put his arms around you, caressing your hair and telling you how much Alma loved you and that would never leave you. It never did, you could feel her love everyday, in little things like the chirping of the birds outside, the warm sun, the little desserts you would bake with her recipes, etc…

That was the last time you saw Javier, when you were 15 and crying for the biggest lost in your life.

He parks his truck on Maria´s driveway and gets out with a nervous sigh. After he knocks on the door twice, you open the door with a big smile, fuck, he thought you wouldn't be here. He didn't have a problem with you being here, on the contrary, he was very happy when he saw you the other day, it had been way too long without seeing you. But the problem was that you had grown up… And fuck, did the years had treat you amanzingly. You were a full on woman now, and he didn't like that, because it made his body feel things that it shouldn't. If Maria or his own father could read what had gone through his mind since he first saw you a few days ago, he would definitely be six feet under.

“Hey! You're here!” you say with that big smile on your face. He doesn't say anything, just nods and gives you a tight smile back.

“Come in!” you move a little to give him enough space to come inside. “Mom is still cooking what must be her twentieth dish” you chuckle. He slips inside but you hadn't anticipated how broad his shoulders were so he bumps one of his shoulders into you.

“Oh, sorry” he apologizes and you can't help but feel a million goosebumps all over your body. “She shouldn't have trouble herself…”

You shake the feeling away, you weren't a stupid teenager anymore. “yeah, tell that to her” you smirk knowing he would never dare.

He walks to the kitchen with you behind, he remembers the way as if no time has passed, as if he hadn't gone through more than a decade without putting a foot in this house. When he makes it past the arch of the kitchen, he sees your mom, her back facing him, he can see the grey conquering her whole hair. For a moment he can almost see his own mom beside her cutting some vegetables.

Seeing his silence, you decide to clear your throat to make your presence known to your mom. She turns around starting a sentence that sounds like a question about who was at the door, but as soon as she sees Javier there, before her, her mouth shuts and she freezes. Knowing they'll need a moment, you walk around them to the stove to continue to stir whatever dish your mom is making now, so it doesn't burn while they catch up.

“Javiercito!” she almost screams, launching herself into him, a hand on the back of his head and the other arm across his back.

“Maria…” is all that he can get out of his mouth, apart from the biggest breath out that he has ever let out. He didn't even know that he was holding that breath for so long.

“Déjame verte bien mijo (Let me get a good look at you, my son)” she pulls away from him and pushes him a little back by the shoulders, then looks him up and down like she was examining that he isn´t missing anything.

“Ma, esta bien, no le agobies (Mom, he's fine, don't bother him)” you say from the stove, not even looking at them.

“¿Bien? (fine?) Have you seen him? Está demasiado delgado, gracias a dios que prepare suficiente comida. Siéntate, mijo. (He's too skinny, thank god i´ve prepare enough food. Sit, my son) I'll bring you some food right away” She says, patting his cheek and signaling with a hand to the kitchen table, then she goes back to the stove and replaces the place you were filling.

You chuckle and shake your head in disbelief. “Do you want something to drink, Javi?” you ask him while opening the fridge to get a beer for yourself.

He talks again after feeling overwhelmed by the situation. “Sure, whatever you´re having” with that you pull out another beer for him and after uncapping them, you hand him one. “Thanks” he says, not meeting your eye.

You sit across from him on the kitchen table and take a sip of your own beer. Your mom puts a bowl of Pozole in front of each of you, and while you eat, she and Javier talk about a million things, how things around the house had been since your dad died, how you and her go to Chucho´s every now and then, how you help Chucho everytime the fruit trees need harvesting (which brings a blush to your cheeks when Javi asks if that's right and looks at you), and of course your mom starts to let Javi know about all the gossip he has missed in Laredo, which by his face, he couldn't care less to be honest but i guess your mom didn't want to pick that up. He just nods and hums while eating, while your mom tells him about how the girl from the Gonzalez´s was seen in the local theater every week casually talking and giggling with the guy working there; after a bit something pricks his ears, specifically when your name is mentioned.

“And you wouldn't believe all the commotion that it caused , pff, nos tuvimos que quedar en casa varios días antes de que ella se atreviera a enseñar la cara (we had to stay at home for a few days before she was brave enough to show her face)” she says while picking up both of your bowls to bring to the sink. You don't know where to hide in that moment, you couldn't believe your mom was telling him about that.

“Ma…” you say, trying to make her drop the subject. She obviously doesn't want to catch your desperation.

“What? Sorry i was lost in my head for a moment” he says not realizing that you don't want the subject to be brought up.

“Ay mijo, te estaba diciendo (i was telling you) about how she used to go out with the Lopez´s boy, Diego, and she heard from Doña Lucía about him and a girl, that no one knew, been seen in Jacinto´s ice cream shop, then she decided to confront him that same day, but she instead saw him and the girl on the town square just there,” she makes a dramatic gesture with her hands like she was physically pointing at them right there. “just sitting on a bench, muy acaramelados los muy sinvergüenzas (very lovey-dovey, those scoundrels). Doña Lucía told me that she just took the lemonade in the girl's hand and threw it to him, allí delante de todos, ¿tu te crees, mijo? (in front of everybody, can you believe it, my son?)” she shakes her head in almost disappointment.

“Well, if I'm honest with you Maria. Creo que le hizo poco, yo le hubiese dado un buen puño” you can see how his hands become fists, and his jaw becomes more tense. Javi feels a fire inside of him that he hasn't felt since he left Colombia, he already knows that if he crosses paths with Diego Lopez, he won't be exactly kind towards him.”Wait, he cheated and you had to hide at home?!” he asks, now looking at you.

“I didn't hide, she did” you say pointing towards your mom, who's washing the dishes, with your head. “I was just going through a breakup like a normal person” you shrug your shoulders to try to take some weight off of the conversation.

He nods, understanding now the situation. “Good, you shouldn't feel embarrassed, it's his loss” he huffs “He must be as stupid as he was when he was a kid” he says more to himself than to you, it makes you blush again.

“Javier Jesús Peña!!” your mom scolds him from the sink, turning her head towards him. Javi for a moment feels like a teenager again, being scolded by Maria and his mom for saying a bad word in the kitchen of Pena´s ranch while they make empanadas.

“What? No podes defender al desgraciado, hizo daño a nuestra vampirita (you can't defend that bastard, he hurted our little vampire” he chuckles sincerely now. You gasp at the mention of your old childhood nickname he gave you for being obsessed with the book Dracula when you were 9 years old.

“You don't want to play that game, Peña” you challenge him, squinting your eyes at him, but a little smile in your lips betrays your facade. He laughs with his whole belly now, throwing his head back. You decide right then that you like seeing him laugh sincerely a lot.

After some hours of more delicious food and banter, Javier informs you that he needs to go back to the ranch before his dad comes looking for him for leaving him all day alone with the chores.

You walk him to the door, his arms full of mountains of tupperware full of leftovers that your mom had insisted him to take for himself and Chucho.

You open the door for him since he has his hands occupied, those hands that you´ve been stealing glances to all day, you wonder how rough they would feel around your own hand, around your neck, around your- “Thanks for um… everything” he says interrupting your thread of thoughts.

“Don't mention it” you give him a shy smile, like he could´ve read what you had been thinking. Next thing you know, your mouth is working by it´s own mind, you ask without thinking.”Are you going to the barbecue at Doña Lucia's house this Sunday after church?” when you realize how eager your voice sounds about the prospect of seeing him again in less than two days you add “I believe she invited Chucho the other day, and i'm sure she did it in person with the sole purpose of having you at the barbecue and confirm the rumors of you being fully back home” you chuckle trying to play it cool, god you felt like you were 15 again, drooling for him.

His dad had told him about the gathering but he wasn't planning on going, but now, seeing the slight spark your eyes got when you asked him about his possible attendance, he couldn't think of a better plan for Sunday. “Yeah, my pops told me the other day. I take you´re going too?” you nod with doe eyes and he can't help his eyes for going down to where you tongue tips out of your mouth to wet your lower lip, he gulps and can feel a drop of sweat going down his spine; his mind wondering how you tongue and your lips might feel against his own, against his neck or his chest…

Your mom suddenly yells your name from inside the house. “Dani is calling you, mija!!” you both can hear her voice coming from the living room where the telephone is.

“Dila que voy ma!! (tell her i'll be right there mom!!)” you yell towards her, turning your head over your shoulder, then you turn towards Javi again. You guys keep looking into each other's eyes for what feels like a second and an eternity at the same time until you decide that if you don't stop it, your mom will come over and ruin the moment even more. “I'll see you on Sunday then?”

He nods and then does something that makes you melt into a puddle of water into the ground, he kisses your cheek and with a breathy and deep whisper wishes you a good day to then turn around and walk to his truck on the driveway. You can't help but to stay right there frozen with your heart going way too fast and an almost shocked expression, watching how he puts the leftovers on the passenger side then gets behind the wheel and drives away; it isn´t until your mom calls your name again that you defroze.

Next chapter

[mousemannation]

NASDAQ-100 Open Post-Match Press with Roger Federer March 27, 2004 / March 28, 2004

NASDAQ-100 OPEN

March 27, 2004

Roger Federer

MIAMI, FLORIDA

THE MODERATOR: Questions in English first, please.

Q. I have one that's not directly related to the match. What are the advantages and disadvantages that you find playing without a coach?

ROGER FEDERER: Well, I think it's difficult to answer. I think there is definitely some on each side. The negatives ones, I think you have to try to, you know, put them little bit on the sides if you are with a coach or without; the same as the positive things, you have to put them more in front. You look more at those and take them, because it makes you play better tennis. I think you will always have both ways.

Q. What are some of the pluses and the minuses?

ROGER FEDERER: Well, I mean, totally depends what kind of person you are and what for you a coach or no coach should do, you know. So, I mean, I'm not going to start saying what is good and bad in a coach or not having a coach, so it's very difficult to say.

Q. Are you close to finding a coach?

ROGER FEDERER: No, I'm not.

Q. What are you looking for in a coach?

ROGER FEDERER: Well, somebody, you know, who can help my game to bring it to a better level and give me advice. That's what I'm looking for in a coach. But right now, there's nothing going on.

Q. Could you see going the whole year without a coach? Could that be a possibility?

ROGER FEDERER: Well, obviously. If things don't work out, I'm not stressing myself out. So you never know what happens. But, you know, so far it's been all right. I know I can play an entire year without a coach, so...

Q. Is Stefanki someone you've given thought to?

ROGER FEDERER: Let's put it this way, I've thought about many coaches. Everybody who might be a candidate crossed my mind. But really haven't been close at all to have taken any decisions.

Q. I saw you here around noon, so you've been here at least seven and a half hours at this point. You had a long wait yesterday. Can you just talk about that, just the process of waiting to play this match.

ROGER FEDERER: Well, you get used to it as a tennis player. At the US Open, I had to wait for three days until I could play a little bit. Then I had to come off after a set. So you get used to it. Sometimes it's fun, you know, sometimes it's really boring. But we're here in a group. You can entertain yourself. You know when the matches take long, at least you're here early enough to prepare. It's all about being professional.

Q. What is your scouting report on Rafael Nadal?

ROGER FEDERER: Luckily, I played him in doubles last week so I know a little bit more about his game than I would have. So at least I don't have to see him play anymore because I know how he plays now, and I'm looking forward. It's gonna be a good match. He's definitely one of the guys that will be around in the future.

Q. His scouting report, if he had to play you, was if he plays as well as he's capable of playing and you have a bad day, he can win. Otherwise, he says, he loses. What is your reaction to that?

ROGER FEDERER: Well, I mean, I guess he wants to take some pressure off himself, which is kind of normal. Because maybe people expect already too much of him. I don't know, people expect him maybe to beat me on a good day, which I think is totally possible. But he's right, he should push it away from him. Tomorrow he's definitely got a chance. Today wasn't my best, and I got to improve.

Q. Can you feel the target on you, people aiming for you because you're No. 1, even more so than when you were No. 2?

ROGER FEDERER: I feel it is more of an enjoyment, being No. 1, than, you know, feeling pressure. I think I've also shown it with my results. I really just try to, you know, while I'm No. 1 in the world, I really want to enjoy it and give as much back to the game as I can.

Q. Do you sense opponents taking more risks against you because you're No. 1?

ROGER FEDERER: Some of them might change their games, you know, because they think that maybe playing with me from the baseline is not the best idea because then I will come to the net and they have to make the passes all day so they'd rather come in themselves. I feel they maybe play a little bit more aggressive than against other players, certain players. But I think their best, they play their game and on a good day, that's sometimes good enough.

Q. How concerned were you out there down 3-1 in the third?

ROGER FEDERER: Very. Very concerned. I was not feeling well today. I mean, incredible winds here. So it's very difficult to play. It's tough to get the rhythm. He started to play well, I thought, in the middle of the second. So was a tough one, and I didn't think I'm gonna turn this around today.

Q. The miss-hit you had would be because of the wind primarily?

ROGER FEDERER: Yeah, wind and fatigue and just not used to play; first day I played was yesterday. So I'm really missing, you know, to hit enough tennis balls.

Q. You had a cold or flu?

ROGER FEDERER: Yeah, I was sick. I had a fever and threw up and those kind of things, so...

Q. And you missed your flight? You were, what, a day late coming here?

ROGER FEDERER: No, just a couple of hours.

Q. How much practice time did you miss then?

ROGER FEDERER: Two, three days.

Q. You have problems with your feet?

ROGER FEDERER: No, the tape was coming off. Didn't disturb my game. But just had to take it off.

Q. What did you say to yourself at 3-1 in the third that changed everything?

ROGER FEDERER: Well, the wind was getting stronger and stronger, you know. I didn't have my confidence on my forehand. I couldn't hit three or four balls in a row, so I felt like he was really starting to -- not to hardly miss anymore from the baseline. The beginning, you know, he was giving me a lot of easy points. I thought, "Geez, this will be very, very difficult, you know, hopefully I can just get a good start to one of those games on his service." That's what I got right away at 3-1, so, got a little fortunate today.

Q. (Inaudible)?

ROGER FEDERER: No mistakes, tried to move and at least hold your own serve so you don't get down two breaks. But you got to hope on mistakes from the opponent.

Q. A couple days ago Andy was in chatting with us. We were talking about how difficult it is for players at the very top of the rankings to have any kind of relationship because they always want to keep a certain distance because of the competitiveness. He said, "If Roger called me up and said, 'Why don't we go out for dinner,' I'd love to do that, I'd have no problem with it." Would you?

ROGER FEDERER: Sure (smiling). I mean, we shouldn't talk, like, in a triangle, but I agree, it is very difficult because, you know, usually we stay at different hotels or we're very busy. We've got our own, you know, people around us. I think, you know, I go out with the Swiss players; he probably goes out with the Americans or his clan. I'm talking about any player now. You know, it's a professional sport so you want to do everything just for that day so you're ready. We get along well. We never had a problem together. I could imagine myself having a drink with Andy, I have in the past so...

Q. Do you feel you would have won that kind of match like today like two years ago?

ROGER FEDERER: Well, you never know. Obviously, I'm a better player now, mentally stronger, physically stronger. But I cannot say because last year I lost it 7-6 in the third in the quarters. But, you know, different opponent, not so much wind.

Q. You used to hate the wind when you were younger?

ROGER FEDERER: Yeah, well, you see it. Tennis is just not as much fun as it is without because you cannot risk as much, you cannot hit the ball as hard as you want. You've got to really calculate everything you do. So that takes away a little bit of creativity, I think. I've learned to use the wind to my favor. That is important to my game.

Q. When you say that Rafael maybe wants to take pressure off himself because there are a lot of expectations on him, do you see in what he's going through maybe what you went through?

ROGER FEDERER: Sure.

Q. Do you think, is that part of what -- maybe you see that where other people would not?

ROGER FEDERER: Yeah, but, I think, you know, his ranking , he has already proven himself at his age, you know, to be ranked as good as he is, I think he's already actually proven that he's a great player. He doesn't right now need to beat all these top players just to show them that in three years' time he can be No. 1 in the world and win Grand Slams. I think all he needs is time, and I think he's a very quiet guy and confident on the court. I felt the same way at his age. So looking forward to playing a player like him, you know, because I think he's a good player. Tomorrow maybe I'll tell you he's a great player, but I first got to play him, so...

End of FastScripts

---

NASDAQ-100 OPEN

March 28, 2004

Roger Federer

MIAMI, FLORIDA

THE MODERATOR: Questions, please.

Q. Your thoughts on the match? What was he able to do to get you out of rhythm?

ROGER FEDERER: Well, I think it's always difficult to play someone for the first time, first of all. But I think, you know, overall he played a very good match. He was the better player today. It was tough for me to, you know -- I mean, I had time to get the rhythm, but, you know, he played very aggressive and I couldn't quite play maybe the way I wanted to.

Q. Were you surprised how aggressive he did come out? It seemed like every shot he was hitting was perfect.

ROGER FEDERER: He doesn't hit the ball flat and hard. It's more with a lot of spin, which makes the ball bounce, bounce high, and that's a struggle I had today. I tried to get out of it, but kind of couldn't. I thought in the beginning I maybe wasn't going for my shots enough, where in the end I thought I was hitting the ball better. But I felt the match maybe kind of went his way, and, you know, he hit some really incredible shots. That's what youngsters do, so... (Laughter).

Q. Are you surprised such a young guy could come at you like that?

ROGER FEDERER: No, no, I'm not surprised. I've heard a lot about him and saw some matches of him. I think this is not a big surprise for everybody.

Q. You played a lot of tennis this year already. Do you feel more tired physically or mentally?

ROGER FEDERER: My fatigue right now has got nothing to do with all the matches I've played this year. I've been sick, and this was my problem for the imperfect preparation for this tournament. Yesterday I was (going) a lot in the wind. Today I played against a player who was just better. That was my problem for this week. Now I have time to rest and prepare for Davis Cup.

Q. Do you feel better physically than yesterday, or do you feel the same?

ROGER FEDERER: Different. I had a lot of pain in my whole body from the match of yesterday because I couldn't prepare the way I wanted to. But, you know, I didn't feel as tired as yesterday. But tough to explain. Just, you know, I felt what was missing today was just the reactions and maybe the fight in the corners which were not the same than maybe I'm used to.

Q. What do you think is the biggest weapon Nadal has?

ROGER FEDERER: I think his forehand, you know, is for sure his biggest shot in his game, and his all-court speed.

Q. It wasn't long ago you were 17. Can you imagine playing with that attitude against the No. 1 player in the world?

ROGER FEDERER: Was it not good?

Q. It was great. His attitude today, I mean. Could you imagine you at 17 years old...

ROGER FEDERER: Well, we have to get a tape when I played Moya, Moya in Marseille when I was 17. But I think, you know, he's a different character on the court. He relies much more on his fighting spirit, like Lleyton does a little bit, you know, I compare him at his age. So, you know, everyone has their attitude. I think it's a definite good one to have very much success early in his career.

Q. As the world No. 1, still only 22, does it frighten you that he is almost five years younger than you?

ROGER FEDERER: Well, what can you do (smiling)? I think he's put a lot of hard work into his game. We all know that, you know, the youngsters from today - because we feel young, but there's always younger players than you, and, you know, we all remember when we were 17, we already felt we were great players. Then suddenly, you're around for a few years and you feel like, "Well, now I've proven it to everybody I'm a good player." It's totally different view of the game, especially I think interesting are the first three years. So I think he's enjoying his tennis. That's exactly what he should do. We'll see how strong he will be in two years. But, I mean, the start to his career so far has been incredible.

Q. Did you sense that he was nervous at all? Did you see that in him?

ROGER FEDERER: No. In the beginning maybe little bit, when you walk on court. I think he's kind of a little bit shy, you know, on court. He looks at me as an incredible great player, you know. I just felt more of a respect level than nerve.

Q. I guess this win for him tonight must feel, in a way, like it felt for you when you beat Sampras, that sort of major victory, that major breakthrough. How important is that kind of victory to your career?

ROGER FEDERER: For me, it was -- I think it's -- I don't know if you can compare. Mine was in Wimbledon, you know. Definitely this is also big tournament, but, I don't know, it's tough because I'm still not much, much older than he is. Sampras, for me, was more of -- I think more than I am for him. He's got different idols, I think (smiling). For me, I think this win counts little bit different for us.

Q. How will you prepare for the Davis Cup?

ROGER FEDERER: How I will prepare? The way we always do (smiling).

Q. When do you go to Switzerland?

ROGER FEDERER: I don't know when I'm leaving, when I'm arriving to the team. They started practicing on Monday, which is tomorrow. They will start the practice tomorrow, and I will join them when I get back to Switzerland. So when that will be, I don't know.

Q. Do you think the heat stroke that you got in Indian Wells, although you've got a thick head of black hair, do you think of wearing a cap in those conditions perhaps next time?

ROGER FEDERER: It's a good point which I thought about. But it's really the first time I've experienced something like this. I've played in some heat in my career. So, I mean, I'll try to continue playing the way I did. If I will get it a second time, then I'll put even more thoughts into it (laughter)... and start playing with a cap, thanks to you (laughter).

Q. What's closest to your heart - to win Davis Cup or the Gold Medal in the Olympics this year?

ROGER FEDERER: Olympics would mean more to me.

Q. Do you go with any particular plan today and you couldn't make it happen, or you went just to see? Considering that you do not have a coach right now and you're coaching yourself, how did you prepare for the match in this case?

ROGER FEDERER: Well, I think the difficulty was that I've never played him, so that makes it more difficult. He's a young player who takes, you know -- you never know what he will do next because he's very unpredictable. He will suddenly take a lot of risks. That's what he sometimes did and surprised me. So for me, you know, it was important to, you know, to try to play aggressive. But I felt, you know, the conditions were very slow out there and maybe lost a little bit of my confidence in the early -- beginning of the match. I came to the net a few times and missed my chances there. He passed me well. So this is actually when maybe already I started to lose a little bit, you know, of confidence, when the match went his way. I started to take more chances from the baseline and maybe I played a little bit too much from the baseline with him instead of maybe coming to the net more. It's definitely got something to do with his game as well; he didn't allow me to. That's the way he played.

Q. How do you think you'll do at the French Open on clay this year?

ROGER FEDERER: Myself?

Q. Uh-hmm.

ROGER FEDERER: Long way to go. I don't know. Looking forward to it, you know. I can only do better than the last two years. I didn't win a set, so... (Laughing). My goal is to do better and hopefully win a round. But I've proven in the past on clay, you know, it can also work out for me. It's definitely one of the -- I have high hopes in the French Open this year.

End of FastScripts

[snowdice]

Big Bang Editing Story [Day 124]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story years ago, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag ‘proofread stories.’ I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41 Part 42 Part 43 Part 44 Part 45 Part 46 Part 47 Part 48 Part 49 Part 50 Part 51 Part 52 Part 53 Part 54 Part 55

I have been sick as a dog since I last worked on this story. I'm not even doing any work today lol. I just want to get this chapter finished. Will probably do a couple rounds and then cook myself dinner, so there may be a gap at some point. Mostly I'll just be, like, reading when not posting. Wish me luck.

“Good day for a picnic,” Helen commented as she handed over the basket Thomas had requested from her a few days before. He was taking Logan, Patton, and Virgil to the cliffs today and it was perfect weather for it. Spring was truly here, which meant that those of Thomas’s duties that had laid dormant over the harsh winter were about to start up again.

The world had been on pause for a bit considering no armies or agents from any kingdom could get through the snow the last few months, but the concerns of last fall were showing their heads once again.

Thomas had just gotten word a day ago that the queen of Lamir had routed out a second assassin hiding in her ranks over the winter. The assassin had been sent shortly after it was made clear that the queen wouldn’t bow down after the assassination of her mother. Luckily, the assassin sent for Queen Cecil had not managed to complete her mission during the winter months.

While there had been no similar attempt on Prijaznia soil, Thomas couldn’t help but feel it was only a matter of time now that the snow had melted. They were already working on increasing security in the coming weeks and, though it was doubtful an assassin had managed to hide in the castle all winter without revealing themselves, they’d be closely scrutinizing all of the newer staff members.

It would be a stressful time in the coming months, which is why, despite everything Thomas needed to do, he was still going to take his son and his son’s friends on a picnic today. Logan had already started taking on royal duties as of late, but he still hadn’t taken them all on quite yet. Considering this was last summer before Logan was of age, they should at least try to take advantage of it where they could. Patton was a year younger, but the sentiment held for him as well.

Then there was Virgil. Despite their best efforts, they still didn’t know enough about Virgil, but Thomas was fairly sure he’d never had a summer to enjoy until now.

“Thanks for prepping lunch for us,” Thomas said to Helen with a smile.

“No problem,” she said waving them off. “I put in some of Virgil’s favorites.”

“Great,” Thomas said. “Do you know where the kids are?”

“Patton said they were going to go pet the cats, so I’d guess they’re in the gardens.”

Thomas thanked her again and told her to have a good day before exiting the kitchen. There was a nearby door that led straight towards the part of the gardens Patton and Logan had always favored. He figured they’d either still be around there, or they would have wandered towards the stables by now knowing that they’d be taking horses to the cliffs. So, he decided to simply walk the normal path from the door to the stable, hoping to find them.

His prediction ended up being hilariously correct. They were indeed on the path Thomas had chosen. It was clear they (or at least Logan) were attempting to make it to the stable. However, as was typical, a portion of the party had been waylaid by whimsy.

Logan was standing further down the path, arms crossed and frowning as he watched his friends. Patton and Virgil were surrounded by cats. Patton was sitting down, holding two of them in his lap and watching Virgil’s legs being swarmed by the rest of them, maybe two dozen in total.

Virgil looked confused, but not unhappy about the presence of so many cats. He was leaning down to try to pet them all.

Logan met Thomas’s eyes as he approached and waved a frustrated hand at the two of them. Logan couldn’t help but smile.

“Virgil fed one of them,” Logan complained as though he wanted Thomas to somehow go into the past and prevent this crime.

Patton and Virgil looked over at Thomas, noticing him when Logan addressed him.

“You’re going to make Princess Marisol jealous,” Thomas said. Logan frowned at Thomas as he used the ‘Princess’ label for the cat.

“Princess Marisol decided not to come,” Virgil said with a shrug. He continued to pet one of the cats.

“She’s probably sleeping on my pillow,” Logan said, sounding grumpy.

Thomas just chuckled. Princess Marisol was technically Logan’s cat, at least that’s what the kids said, and she did spend much of her time in the royal rooms. However, she was very clearly actually Virgil’s cat. Virgil just spent a lot of time in the royal wing as well.

In fact, Thomas still didn’t know where Virgil was supposed to be sleeping. He and Mr. Deknis had gone so far as to tail him a couple of times, but he always ended up sleeping in Logan’s room those nights.

Knowing Virgil, he might just sleep in the walls. Though that still did not answer the question of where his parents or guardians were. They still had not figured it out. Thomas would assume he was an orphan who’d snuck onto castle grounds for safety, but Virgil had told Mr. Deknis during their first meeting that he was supposed to be in the castle, and it had not been a lie.

Then again, it had slowly become apparent that Virgil was good at dodging the multrum’s powers. It was starting to seem more likely that he’d somehow inserted a second meaning into his answer to Mr. Deknis that night than he somehow had some ghost guardian no one was able to locate working in the castle.

“She deserves the pillow more than you,” Virgil said, bringing Thomas’s thoughts back to the situation at hand. The look of audacity on Logan’s face made Thomas chuckle.

Thomas cut in before it could become a fight. “I could get Princess Marisol a pillow, so she doesn’t sleep on yours. Or we can get you a new pillow if you’d prefer, Logan.”

“It’s not about the pillow for her,” Logan argued. “It’s about her inflated sense of superiority.”

“She deserves it,” Virgil declared. Thomas could tell he was just trying to rile Logan up, and Thomas was sure Logan knew it too, but still his son reacted exactly in the way Virgil wanted him to.

“You have enabled and encouraged this behavior from the start!” Logan seethed.

“She’s a princess.”

“She is not a princess!”

Patton shook his head while squeezing the cats in his arms, completely used to this behavior. He ran a chin idly over one of the cat’s heads while watching the argument.

“We’re never going to make it to the picnic at this rate,” Thomas said to him, “and after your mother made all of this wonderful food.”

“You’re the dad,” Patton said. “Make them stop.”

And, of course, Patton did just mean that he was Logan’s dad with that statement. However, when he glanced back up at the silly argument still going on between his son and the cat covered boy, it did almost look like a fight between siblings.

Especially with the dark hair and stubborn but mischievous look in Virgil’s eyes, Thomas could almost imagine the boy being his own child.

He shook away the thoughts and glanced at the picnic basket in his hand.

“We do have a lot of food in this basket,” Thomas said, pitching his voice up so that Logan (and more importantly) Virgil would hear them clearly.

Virgil immediately turned to look at him, abandoning all interest in antagonizing Logan to look at the basket curiously.

Thomas was never sure if he should be amused or worried about how food motivated Virgil often was.

“What’s in the basket?” Virgil asked.

“I’m not sure,” Thomas said. “Patton’s mom made it. We’ll just have to see once we get to the picnic area.”

Virgil nodded in understanding and began to gently extract himself from the droves of cats. Logan rolled his eyes, but didn’t seem inclined to continue the argument he’d been dragged into. Virgil and Patton got to their feet, and they continued on their way towards the stables.

The horses Thomas had requested be prepared for their trip were already in saddles, though the stable hand who had been handling Mr. Apples seemed a bit dirtier and more exhausted than the rest.

The stable hand seemed as happy to hand Mr. Apples over to Virgil as Virgil was to have Mr. Apples handed over to him. Thomas received Bella with a smile and Logan and Patton got their own horses as well.

The cliffs were about half an hour's ride from the main castle. There was a mostly well-maintained path to them, though it was easy to get lost if one didn’t know the way. Mr. Apples knew the way perhaps better than Thomas himself and seemed annoyed by the fact that Thomas was trying to lead the way. Virgil and Thomas ended up side-by-side whenever the path allowed it to placate him.

Thomas still marveled at how willing Mr. Apples was to let Virgil ride him, especially when he tossed his head in Thomas’s direction, a horse’s equivalent of giving Thomas a stink-eye.

“Are you excited for the picnic?” Thomas asked the boy beside him.

Virgil glanced over at him and nodded.

“I am too,” Thomas said. “It’s always beautiful this time of year. I’m glad I could find the time to take you all there this year.”

“Are you very busy?” Virgil asked curiously.

“I am king,” Thomas reminded, “and now that the world isn’t snowed in anymore things will be busy.”

“With the war?” Virgil asked.

Thomas paused for a few seconds. “Yes,” he confirmed. “With the war, but you don’t need to worry about that.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Virgil asked.

“You’re just a kid,” Thomas said.

“I’m 14,” Virgil said.

Thomas glanced at him. “Exactly,” he said, “a kid, and luckily, you’re in a place that can afford you the luxury of being one.”

“What do you mean?”

“The war has been mainly fought on Mocnejsi soil in recent years. Our boarders have held strong against invasions. Unless something goes horribly wrong suddenly, it would take a long time for the main conflict to get here. The only real threat in the castle would be assassins sent after me personally.”

“Right,” Virgil said. There was an awkward pause in conversation before he spoke again. “You’re winning the war then?” he asked.

“Something could always happen,” Thomas said, “but for the most part, yes, we have quite the advantage right now.”

“Oh,” Virgil said.

Thomas shook his head as they were coming up to a narrowing of the path. “Anyway, today is a day to not think about war. Today we’re going to have a lovely picnic and do some bird watching.”

“Right,” Virgil agreed from behind Thomas as Bella took the lead (to Mr. Apples discontent.)

When the path widened again, Thomas did his best to direct the topic to lighter subjects and soon they made it to the cliffs.

Chapter 57 (Virgil)

Virgil had never been to a picnic. At least, that’s what Patton had informed him when Virgil had described his past experiences of eating outdoors. Logan had agreed even though he’d admitted that the definition of “picnic” was only eating a pre-packaged meal outdoors which Virgil had done plenty of times.

From what Virgil could tell, the main difference was just how much stuff one brought to a picnic.

In addition to the basket full of food (that Virgil still hadn’t gotten to look in yet), the king had brought a large soft quilt that he had Logan and Virgil spread out on the ground for them all to sit on.

Patton and Logan had also packed some things themselves to bring along. Logan had brought along a book to read, and Patton had brought along a board game (thankfully not checkers but something Virgil did not recognize). Virgil hadn’t brought anything (except for the fire knife he was definitely not supposed to have and was definitely not letting the king see) because he hadn’t known he was supposed to bring things. He wouldn’t have known what to bring anyway.

The blanket was soft and a much better alternative to sitting on the ground, especially because, while there was grass at the top of The Cliffs, there were also a good number of rocks.

The king set the picnic basket in the middle of the blanket once it was spread out and then lowered himself down to sit on one side. Patton quickly followed him, already fiddling with some of his board game pieces, though he wasn’t setting it up yet. Virgil highly doubted that Logan was going to be allowed to read his book unless Patton eventually got bored of the game.

However, they would, hopefully, be allowed to make use of the basket the king had brought along.

Virgil followed the king and Patton’s lead and got to his knees on the blanket across the picnic basket from the king. He peered at the basket curiously.

He didn’t quite know what picnic food was, but Patton had told them they’d be getting ‘picnic food’ and he was very curious about what that meant.

King Thomas smiled at him. “Let’s see what Patton’s mom packed us, huh?” He reached for the basket and flipped it open as Logan sat next to Virgil. “There is a lot more food than usual in here,” the king said, sounding amused. “Let’s see.”

He began to pull out packaged food and glanced in each package to identify it before setting it out.

“We have a few types of mini sandwiches,” he said, putting them down, “and some pasta salad.” He set down the bowl.

“We also have… er something else.” He showed it to Logan.

“They’re hot cauliflower bites,” Logan said instantly upon seeing them. Virgil perked up in excitement. That was one of his favorite foods.

“Ah,” King Thomas said, but shrugged and set it down. “We also have two desserts apparently: cookies and mini apple pies. That last one’s a bit extra for a picnic.”

“They’re very good,” Virgil said happily.

“And we also have.” King Thomas paused, looking confused. “Chicken alfredo?”

“Yes!” Virgil said.

“Why do we have chicken alfredo for a picnic?”

“It’s a Virgil picnic,” Logan groaned. “She packed us a Virgil picnic.”

“Hey, at least momma sent us something too,” Patton said.

“I think I’ll stick to sandwiches for today,” King Thomas said. He looked at Patton and Logan. “Do either of you want…?”

“No,” Logan said. Patton shook his head.

The king nodded and offered the entire covered bowl of chicken alfredo to Virgil. “Here, this one’s yours,” he said.

“Really?” Virgil asked tentatively. It wasn’t exactly strange for people here to offer him food, and he’d expected and anticipated getting to eat on this venture, but the king of the country offering him an entire bowl of his favorite food was something else.

“It’s not really my idea of a picnic food and you seem excited for it,” King Thomas said with a warm smile, still holding it out.

Virgil took it reverently. Despite the time it had taken to get to the cliffs, the bottom of the container was still warm. Virgil assumed it was one of the heating spells the kitchen sometimes used.

“Thanks,” Virgil said, setting it in his lap.

“Of course, Virgil,” the king said.

The bowl was enough for four people to have a little bit, but for one person it was a lot. Still, Virgil was offered a little of every other food in the picnic basket (and he ate a good number of the hot cauliflower bites).

“Where do you put all of that?” the king asked when Virgil finished polishing off the chicken alfredo bowl.

Everyone else seemed to have finished eating long before Virgil, though Patton still had a small plate of grapes, and he occasionally popped one in his mouth. King Thomas was currently setting up the board game they’d brought on the blanket between all of them.

Virgil shrugged in answer to his question. “It’s good,” he said, “and I don’t want to waste any of it.”

“You know we can just take the leftovers back to the castle and eat them later,” King Thomas said. “You don’t have to eat it all now.”

Virgil just shrugged again, watching as the king set out a group of 8 figures on the board.

“Here, which character do you want to be?” the king asked Virgil, gesturing at the group of figures. Virgil had not noticed the figures were different at first glance. They were all copper colored and about the size of his thumb, but they had slightly different shapes. He squinted at them each carefully, finding they all looked like people, but with different clothing. Some worse pants and some skirts, a few had hats, and one was even carrying a book.

After a few moments, he pointed at one that looked like it had vines wrapped around its arms and was wearing a floppy hat that almost covered its eyes.

“That’s the druid,” King Thomas told him with a grin. “Good choice, and luckily not one that anyone usually fights over.” He glanced at Logan who didn’t react to his father’s gaze. He just plucked the figure clutching the book off the board for himself.

Patton and the king picked pieces for themselves. Patton picked one with an apron that kind of reminded Virgil of his mom and the king picked one that was in a suit of armor before putting the other 4 figures away.

Unlike checkers, this game wasn’t just for two people, and so no one had to sit watching people play while bored out of their mind.

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They played a practice round so Virgil could figure out how the game worked, though honestly it wasn’t that complicated, so it wasn’t really necessary.

The theme of the game was all about stealing. They were supposed to steal special tokens from other players as well as characters in the game and the first person with 20 tokens won.

The other three players argued that stealing was not the point and not the main mechanism of the game, but considering Virgil was consistently winning the entire time, he would argue they were just playing it wrong. He managed to collect 20 tokens before anyone else. In second place at this time was Logan with 9 tokens.

Logan insisted on continuing to play the game to determine 2nd and 3rd place, so Virgil ended up watching them play for a bit. Virgil didn’t mind sitting and watching other people play this game, mostly because he still had the joy of victory running in his veins.

Thomas was definitely going to lose, he noted. He kept wasting his money feeding the nonplayer characters who lived on his lands. Virgil didn’t mention this faulty strategy to him in case Virgil ever played him again.

When Logan took too long thinking about his next move, Virgil took in their surroundings.

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He’d been a bit too distracted by the prospect of food and then trying to understand (and then win) the game to truly take in The Cliffs. They were settled a good distance away from the cliffside but Virgil could still see how quickly the edge dropped off. He couldn’t see the large river he was told was at its base from where he was sitting, but he did see a few of the promised wild birds (including doves) flying around. The king had promised they’d bird watch for a bit, and Virgil figured that would happen after the game was over.

A cool spring breeze brushed across Virgil’s face, and he put his hand in his hoodie pockets to warm them. Instead, his fingers hit something icy cold.

For a moment, he didn’t remember what it was. The crescent shape of it was familiar when he put his hand over it, but he had never felt it cold before.

It was the protection charm: the first charm Virgil had ever made with Logan so many months ago. It was meant to ward off small threats as well as warn you about larger threats by changing temperature…

It had always been warm.

“What?” Patton asked, having noticed Virgil suddenly tense. Virgil, despite how he drilled into his friend’s heads to stay alert had gone soft. He’d let himself be distracted by a full belly and warm blankets and fun games.

He didn’t answer Patton. He filtered the other boy’s worried face out as well as Logan’s face as he glanced at him and the king’s still focused on the game for now. He filtered out the picnic blanket and smell of food still lingering in the air and the vine covered figure set in the middle of the board on the winner’s space. He filtered out the sound of the breeze and the breath of his companions and the distant chirping of birds.

And he heard a whoosh.

Chapter 58 (Patton)

If Patton hadn’t already been looking, he probably wouldn’t have had any idea what happened.

Everything had been fine. Virgil had been sitting cross legged, idly watching the conclusion of the game they’d been playing when his posture had suddenly changed. Patton had looked over at him only to see an expression on his face he didn’t recognize, but it didn’t seem good.

“What?” Patton had asked, but the question didn’t seem to register to Virgil.

Logan had glanced up confused and also noticed Virgil’s face. He’d just opened his mouth to also ask what was going on when chaos descended.

Virgil was suddenly moving, crashing into King Thomas who hadn’t even looked up to see something was wrong at that point. Patton realized after the fact that Virgil had swiped up the board of the game they’d been playing as he jumped over it, the pieces previously stacked on it scattering all over the blanket. There were three thumps as some things hit the thick board, imbedding themselves into the surface.

When Virgil discarded the board in favor of the picnic basket, Patton saw there were small darts in it oozing a dark black liquid. The parts of the board they touched were dissolving, the grass under the new holes beginning to wilt rapidly.

Logan seemed to notice the oozing liquid the same moment Patton did and was quicker to realize what it was. He grabbed Patton’s arm and yanked him away from the board so hard he almost dislocated Patton’s shoulder, not that Patton was too worried about that. He scrambled away from it when he realized what it must be himself.

He could hear the sound of glassware smashing above them. Logan and Patton had rolled off the blanket in their quest to get away from the smoldering, melting board and apparently Virgil had pulled the picnic blanket fully over the king at some point.

Virgil himself was now gone from where he’d been the last time Patton had looked and it took him a moment to figure out where the boy had gone. The person who had been shooting poisoned darts at them had been drawn out of the wooded area they’d been hiding in by Virgil’s attacks.

They were cloaked in dark green from head to toe, explaining why they’d been difficult to spot when they were in the woods. Whoever they were, they were significantly larger than Virgil, possibly an actual adult or almost adult assassin, but they were also clearly a long distant fighter. They had not been expecting resistance let alone resistance in the form of a so quick he was almost a blur fellow assassin.

They had a bow strapped to their back, but they hadn’t had a chance to get it. Instead, they were trying to fight Virgil off with an arrow they’d managed to draw from their quiver. Virgil, meanwhile was lunging at them with a broken piece of plate in one hand and the picnic basket in the other.

Virgil dodged out of the way of the arrow striking towards his arm, though Patton didn’t think it was because he was afraid of getting scratched by an arrow, but because it may also be poisoned tipped.

Virgil was distracted by dodging for long enough that the older assassin managed to hit him in the face with the arm not holding the arrow.

He went down, but he took the older assassin with him, sweeping their legs out from under them. Patton hadn’t noticed (his mind working too slow for how fast they were moving) but they were on a slight incline. They went rolling in a tangle of arms and legs towards the edge of the cliff and skidded to a stop only a few feet away.

Virgil ended up on top, his piece of broken plate in his hands. He moved to slash it across the other assassin’s throat and managed to draw blood, but the assassin’s fist came out to shove at Virgil’s chest at just the right moment, causing the strike to veer off course and slice across the assassin’s cheek instead.

Virgil jerked to the side to avoid a second strike to the chest and went back for another slash. The other assassin rolled to the side as he did and the plate only managed to nick their ear. The point of the motion hadn’t been to dodge, however. They were lunging for the arrow they’d dropped a few feet away while they’d rolled. They grabbed it with their right hand and in the same motion stabbed back behind them towards Virgil.

Virgil rolled to avoid the hit, already slashing up with his plate as the assassin turned back towards him.

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He didn’t hit them this time but his swipe managed to stop them from stabbing him when they tried again. They shoved themselves back to avoid Virgil’s swing, putting a bit of distance between them. Both of them managed to make it to their feet during the momentary reprieve, but both also stayed crouched, eyeing each other.

They both lunged towards each other at the same time. The assassin went for a stab to Virgil’s neck with the arrow, but Virgil was already ducking down. This time, he wasn’t going for a kill shot. He grabbed the assassin’s wrist and at the same time drove his piece of plate into the assassin’s arm, slicing down from the elbow to wrist. The assassin spoke for the first time, cursing in a language Patton didn’t recognize as they were forced to drop their arrow.

Virgil took a moment to kick the arrow away from the assassin and it ended up falling off the cliff.

However, this pause gave the assassin enough time to regroup. Despite their arm bleeding profusely, they still decided to use it to backhand Virgil across the face viciously, leaving a long line of their own blood across his face.

Virgil lunged back forward, but the assassin was able to get a leg between them, kicking Virgil squarely in the chest and sending him flying back a few feet parallel to the cliff’s edge.

The assassin went to grab their bow and another arrow from the quiver still strapped to their shoulder.

Virgil, however, apparently went for another weapon too and he was much faster with a knife than any archer. A knife appeared in his hand, having been strapped to his ankle and was embedded into the assassin’s chest before they could even full remove an arrow from their quiver.

The assassin promptly burst into flames, fire catching their clothes (and from the smell of it their skin) ablaze. Panicked and dying, they stumbled two steps to the side. They stepped directly off the cliff.

There was a second of silence. They heard the sound of the body hitting the ground far below and then the flap of wings and screeching as birds below fled from the startling sound (and possible soon to be forest fire).

…

“Uh, Virgil?” King Thomas said. He had managed to get the blanket off his head at some point. When, Patton didn’t know, but seeing any of it was probably enough.

Oopsie.

Chapter 59 (Logan)

Logan and Patton had been useless during the fight, but that may have been for the best. Considering the skill differential when it came to fighting (and that differential had never been as clear as it was in this moment), that was probably for the best. They likely would have just gotten in the way.

The moment Logan’s father spoke, however, they both jumped into action.

They both knew their jobs in a situation like this. Patton pushed himself up to his feet ungracefully and all but sprinted over towards Virgil. Logan, on the other hand stood to face his father, putting himself very purposefully between the man who had no idea what was going on yet and the boy who was two seconds away from remembering what was going on.

“I can explain,” Logan said.

His father was still sitting on the ground. “You can explain,” he said slowly, “how Virgil just threw an assassin off a cliff.”

Logan thought pointing out that Virgil hadn’t thrown anyone off a cliff and instead had set them on fire with a magical knife causing them to walk off a cliff, would not be useful in this moment. He glanced back briefly towards where Virgil and Patton were standing and then turned back to his father. “Yes.”

“And what would that explanation be?”

Before even starting to speak, Logan found himself making large dramatic ‘explaining hand gestures’ that he’d thought he’d long since trained himself out of. When he was younger and in trouble, he always used to give himself away as guilty by being overly expressive with his hands (and arms).

“So,” Logan said. He was still not able to stop the hand motions. “Virgil was an assassin. He came here to kill you last fall, but he accidently went to the wrong room in the royal wing. Patton and I were having a slumber party and caught him in the act. Then we reformed him and now he doesn’t kill people anymore.” He paused and glanced back, remembering the body that had just toppled off the cliff. “Er, uh, he doesn’t kill people who haven’t shot poisoned darts at people recently anymore?”

“What?”

“Look,” Logan said. “You’re going to have to tell him you’re not going to execute him soon. Patton can only keep him from bolting for so long.”

[katsona-the-katsequel]

Specialized Extracurricular Execution Squad Activity Report

Part 4

6/27 (Sat) - Reporter: Akihiko Sanada

It seems like I've worried everyone. I'm grateful, but there's no need to worry. As a senior, I can't show any shame. Well, that's enough about that topic.

More than that, it seems that the number of Apathy Syndrome cases is increasing again. This time there were many cases where apparently a pair of a man and a woman became Lost at the same time. Maybe it has something to do with the characteristics of the next large Shadow...

Well, it's best not to jump to conclusions.

We'll find out when the next full moon comes. Oh, and I heard a rumor at school that's bothering me. Apparently, something called a "revenge request website" is becoming a hot topic.

It's the sort of urban legend that says that if you post something on the site, someone will take revenge for you...

Sorry, I can't really explain why this story is bothering me. I think it would be more persuasive if someone with a keen sense like Takeba explained it. If I find out anything else, I'll let you know.

6/28 (Sun) - Reporter: Junpei Iori

Hello, I'm Junpei.

The two seniors are out again today, so we'll be taking a break from fighting in Tartarus.

Yukari-chan's sharp intuition, you know... Well, it certainly seems like there are times when it seems like she has some weird intuition. The moment I started talking about Yuka-tan, someone asked me from behind, "Junpei, did you say something?"

I wish I could have the keen intuition to sense Yukari's approach, like Lucia from Fuuka.

Whenever I say something strange in a report, it always comes back the next day...Maybe this is also a woman's intuition?

Hmm, Yuka-tan is truly formidable...

6/29 (Mon) - Reporter: Yukari Takeba

Well, this is Takeba.

Well... there's a full moon in just a week. I won't be able to do it every day, but I've been gaining strength in Tartarus and I feel like I've made progress. But, as expected, the lack of information beforehand is a problem. All we know is that it's a full moon, and we can't decide on a strategy. If anyone knows anything, please let me know as much as you can. This was Takeba.

6/30 (Tue) - Reporter: Mitsuru Kirijo

This is Kirijo.

The day has already changed, and it's already July 1st. There's only one week until the full moon. I'm glad to see that everyone is preparing.

Takeba-san...Your opinion is valid, but I don't have any more information about the shadows right now.

I'm really sorry. I'll try my best to find out as much as I can in the future.

For now, I'll just state the characteristics of the next large Shadow that is currently known. If we go in order, the Arcana is Hierophant, the Pope. As far as I can deduce from the enemies that belong to this Arcana among the normal ahadows that appear in Tartarus, there is a high possibility that they will be good at magic attacks, especially geo-type attacks. If this is of any help, please use it to prepare for battle.

...I'm really sorry.

I'm taking care of you because I'm powerless. But, I'll ask you again. I'm counting on you guys.

7/1 (Wed) - Reporter: Junpei Iori

Hi, Junpei here. Oh man, I'm so fed up with you, Kirijo-senpai. It's okay, you don't have to take it so seriously. Lack of information is fine! Your opponent won't lack any! Besides, we've been on a winning streak lately, so isn't that just a good handicap?

As long as you always stay relaxed and enjoy the tension, it's all okay! ...or so I heard.

Oh, no, listen to that instead! Junpei's Belive It Or Don't Continued! Well, it was the middle of the night last night, and I heard some voices. There's a room next to mine, one of which is empty and the other one is occupied, and from there... I heard some kind of mumbling... I heard some kind of voice. It really freaked me out. So, I mustered up all my courage and put my ear to the wall. And then...

It was just the leader talking in his sleep. Anyway, I'm not getting enough sleep today. Wow.

7/2 (Thu) - Reporter: Fuuka Yamagishi

Good evening, this is Yamagishi. Ummm... Junpei-kun? I have a message for you from Yukari-chan, so... please don't get mad, okay?

... aren't you stupid?

One more thing... I mean, aren't you stupid? I-I did tell her. Phew, I'm not cut out for this sort of thing...

And from me, to Kirijo-senpai. Ummm, I can't really explain it well, but I think I'm probably fighting for myself. Please don't take it all on yourself.

That sounds a bit... arrogant. Sorry. I'll talk to you again after I've gathered my thoughts.

7/3 (Fri) - Reporter: Shuji Ikutsuki

It's Ikutsuki. ...Well, it's been a while since I've heard everyone's voices, and somehow there's a subtle discord. Well, even though we know the cycle of the large Shadows, there are still at least eight left, so I understand that you're feeling anxious about a lot of things.

However, in times of crisis like this, I want all the members to come together as one and face the difficulties. Isn't that what it means to be human? Right?

I'm not saying that if you believe, your wishes will come true, but it's your beliefs that give you strength when it really counts. I want you to think again about the meaning of your fighting. Because it's your beliefs... Oh, I'll stop here for today. It was a good talk.

7/4 (Sat) - Reporter: Akihiko Sanada

Ikutsuki-san...

I don't mind if you like puns. But if you're going to say it, then say it, and if you're not going to say it, then don't. It bothers me if you get stopped midway.

But what's the point of fighting...?

In my case, I don't have any grudge against shadows themselves. I simply hunt them down because they are a threat to people's peace.

I just don't like doing nothing when there's someone I could be helping in front of me. That's why I wanted power. If this power isn't enough, I'll keep improving myself until I get the power I need.

7/5 (Sun) - Reporter: Yukari Takeba

Hi, this is Takeba.

If I think back, maybe I said something weird? Hmm, if I take it that far, I might feel a little responsible.

For now, let's do as Sanada-senpai said and prepare for the next Shadow! Even I know that this is the most important thing. Anyway, we have no choice but to do it.

Actually, yesterday morning, I bumped into the leader on my way to school and we talked for a bit. He's usually a bit unsociable, but when I asked him, he answered me. Then I felt a little better. I realized that it's important to communicate your thoughts and receive them.

Anyway, the full moon tomorrow is the fifth large Shadow battle. The enemy Arcana is the Hierophant. Let's do our best!

7/6 (Mon) - Reporter: Mitsuru Kirijo

This is Kirijo.

Tomorrow is finally the full moon. It seems that many people, including me, are sensitive, but please concentrate and defeat the shadows.

...Yes. I don't know if it will help ease your tension, but let me share a little trivia.

It's about how we call the moon. The "full moon" during which large Shadows appear is an astronomical name that is determined based on the ecliptic coordinates of the celestial body. A full moon occurs when the difference in ecliptic longitude with the sun is 180 degrees. And the name "15th night" that you often hear is based on the date of the lunar calendar. In this case, even if the moon is not a perfect circle, the moon on the 15th is called the 15th night. And when it comes to the "age of the moon," it is calculated based on how many days have passed since the moment of the new moon.

According to this, tomorrow will be a full moon, the moon will be 14.8 days old, and the 15th night. On the 8th of last month, the moon was full, the moon was 15.1 days old, and the 16th night. How about that? It's pretty interesting, isn't it?

7/7 (Tue) - Reporter: Fuuka Yamagishi

Good evening, this is Yamagishi.

Today was my first time... well, to be precise I took part in a battle in June, but this battle was the first time I was able to join everyone from the start of the operation.

What can I say... in many ways, it was a valuable experience...

Today's location was on Shirakawa Street, east of Iwatodai... Ah, that's right. To borrow the words of the Chairman, it was an amusement hotel... Ugh, that's not a good place to report. It was a love hotel... Anyway, I sensed the presence of a large Shadow there. I asked everyone to head there. However, it seems that the enemy had a plan this time, and after defeating the first Hierophant type, we made the blunder of allowing the Lovers Arcana Shadow to attack us mentally... In the end, everyone was safe thanks to the leader's efforts, and Sanada-senpai said, "In the end, we figured out the enemy's position, so that was good," but if we think about what might have happened... we can't be at ease just because everything turned out okay. Also, I didn't really understand the details of the enemy's mental attack... but it seems that Yukari-chan and Kirijo-senpai were a little mentally damaged, so I'm worried. I've said this many times before, but don't try to handle everything on your own, feel free to consult me ​​about anything.

By the way... when the mission was over, Yukari-chan and Kirijo-senpai smelled nice of shampoo. Is that related to anything?

7/8 (Wed) - Reporter: Akihiko Sanada

Yamagishi, there are some things you really don't want people to know. Leave them alone.

Well, Yamagishi made that kind of report yesterday, but I think she got the best possible results. She was completely caught in a trap set by the enemy Shadow, but managed to escape it brilliantly.

Well, it's great that you have the determination to reflect on the problems and make improvements. I'll keep it up for the next operation. And Leader. You probably don't come to the strategy room often, and I don't know if you've heard this report, but you did a great job this time too. Get some rest.

...I know I'm saying this right after I've given you words of appreciation, but the final exams are less than a week away. You may not be properly prepared for the fight against the shadows, but please do your best. Good luck, Junpei!

7/9 (Thu) - Reporter: Junpei Iori

Hey, it's Junpei.

Ah, that's right. Final exams start next Tuesday, don't you think?

Well, I know studying is useless, so I'll just do my best... See you then...

7/10 (Fri) - Reporter: Mitsuru Kirijo

It's Kirijo... What's wrong, Iori?... I heard from Akihiko that you've been holed up in your room since returning to the dorms today. If you're not feeling well, there's a good hospital run by Kirijo. I'll introduce you to it, so go there early. I'm sure you've had a lot going on. I won't pry into your affairs, so don't keep your worries to yourself. Above all, there are only four days left until the final exam. I'm sure you have a lot to think about, but what we should be focusing on right now is the final exam material, not shadow fighting. I think I told you this before, but I'm thinking of a little reward for the top performers. Everyone, do your best and don't forget your duties as a student.

7/11 (Sat) - Reporter: Fuuka Yamagishi

Good evening, this is Yamagishi.

Today was a real cacophony... Actually, Yukari had asked me to look into the accident from 10 years ago, and I had a premonition that something like today would happen.

Maybe because I was looking at it from a third-person perspective, I feel like I understand both Kirijo-senpai's feelings of not being able to tell the truth, and Yukari's feelings of blaming her. And as for my own feelings...I told Kirijo-senpai directly, I'm happy that I'm needed. I don't have a reason to fight, but I do have a reason for wanting to be here. Isn't that the same for everyone? Is that not okay?...It'll be okay, right?

7/12 (Sun) - Reporter: Fuuka Yamagishi

Good evening, this is Yamagishi.

I'm a little proud that I've been talking for two days in a row, as if I've got all this equipment all to myself.

Today, everyone seems to be studying in their rooms. Sanada-senpai was out all day, but he came back after dark and it seems like he's also holed up in his room.

When will everyone be able to hear my voice? Maybe not until after the exams are over?

I've thought about it a lot, but I don't think anyone is to blame... We are all just doing our best to do what we can, but it's sad to see them separated like this.

Each person has something that only they can do. There are times and places when their power is needed. This is the case now, when there are so many people suffering from Apathy Syndrome, and in the case of SEES, and in the case of Personas.

Isn’t that what power is?

...I believe that everyone will understand without me having to say it. For now, let's do our best to study for the exam.

I have some research to do, so I'll just mess around with my device for a bit before getting back to studying. Well, good night...

7/13 (Mon) - Reporter: Yukari Takeba

Well, it's Takeba. Oh, exams start tomorrow. I thought I'd take a break and write up my activities for the first time in a while.

Ha. Seriously, after hearing that message from Fuuka, I can't not say anything at all, Fuuka is surprisingly cunning.

First of all, I'd like to say something about how everyone has been quick to avoid touching the sore spot and has not come to ask, yet have a strong aura of wanting to know what's going on.

I talked to the leader a bit about it, but I apologized to Kirijo-senpai for what happened the other day. Sorry for saying too much. There are still some parts I'm not entirely convinced of, but then there are people close to me who are suffering from Apathy Syndrome, and if I fight the shadows, I might be able to cure that, so I can't just sit back and watch. Yeah. That's right.

Oh, and thank you Chairman for your suggestion to go to Yakushima. I'm looking forward to it. Well, if you don't tell me a pun as a thank you, I'll be sure to not give you a cold shoulder just this once.

And then... oh, that's right. That idiot Junpei Iori is always complaining about swimsuits. He should be the only one without Yakushima, so I hope he gets a part-time job at the swimsuit section of a department store. This was Takeba.

7/14 (Tue) - Reporter: Akihiko Sanada

Today is the first day of the final exams. Thanks to the Chairman's timely suggestion, the atmosphere in the dorm seems to have improved a little. Of course, there is still that tense atmosphere that is unique to exam periods, but this tension is not unpleasant.

To be honest, it's painful to see a child being lured in by sweets to get in a good mood, but that's just how it is. I guess that's actually what we made such a fuss about.

Come to think of it, this was the first time we'd had such a big fight since the current second-year students moved into the dorms... I hope this is a rite of passage, and if we can get through it, we'll be able to build a new relationship.

Also, apart from the Mitsuru incident, Junpei seems to have been annoyed for some reason, but are you okay?

Well, I'm sure you're overwhelmed with your exams right now, so I hope you can calm down. ...I'm probably not the one to say this here, Junpei. I don't know what happened during the exams, but I think you should stop yelling things like "Kabara! Kabara! Yakushima!" on the main streets.

7/15 (Wed) - Reporter: Junpei Iori

Sanada-san, don't you know the expression "samurai compassion"? Well, I don't want to say it.

Well, the problem with the insurance in Edogawa was so confusing that I exploded with anger on the way home from school. As for my case, I can see the answer in my mind, so it's okay. Thank you.

7/16 (Thu) - Reporter: Fuuka Yamagishi

Good evening, this is Yamagishi.

Today was the third day of the exam. I was surprised to see that the history question that the teacher said "will be on the exam" during class actually came up. The teachers at Gekkoukan are surprisingly kind, aren't they?

The correct answer is that the reason the foreigners on the Black Ships were afraid of topknots was because they thought they would be attacked by guns.

This time, we had a fight with a large Shadow just before the exam, so Yukari, Junpei, and the leader didn't seem to be very prepared, and the second-years are struggling. But when they think about the ocean waiting for them after the exams, they feel a little better. Yakushima, huh... I bet the water is beautiful.

7/17 (Fri) - Reporter: Yukari Takeba

Uh, I'm Takeba. I just heard yesterday's report, and I thought the answer to that question was... a projectile, is that correct? Seriously? Wow, I should have listened to the lecture properly!

I chose the second one, "they thought it was a black fish cake." Because in the past, Westerners hated fish! Ugh, I failed!

Ugh, to be honest, I'm not that confident about today's physics lesson. I worked hard to memorize the formulas and laws, but I was wondering who discovered the principle behind contact lenses, which is a bit of trivia! I chose Da Vinci for now, but... God!

7/18 (Sat) - Reporter: Mitsuru Kirijo

This is Kirijo.

Finally, the final exams, which seemed long but were short, are over. I'll never forget the look of relief on everyone's faces when we returned to the dorms.

The day after tomorrow, our trip to Yakushima starts again, so I really wanted to go to Tartarus today, but I guess I wasn't in the mood for it. Well, I'll take my time to get ready.

Now, it's been a while since I last reported on the activities, but according to the Chairman, a boy named Ken Amada will be moving into the dorms during the summer vacation. He seems to have the potential for it, but... Apart from what Takeba pointed out the other day, it is not permitted to involve a boy from the elementary school in a fight. His Persona ability has not been confirmed, and even if he does have the ability and is willing to fight, it will be a while before he actually joins SEES.

Oh, and because of that, while Amada is in the dorms, no talk of shadows is allowed in front of him. Please be careful.

7/19 (Sun) - Reporter: Junpei Iori

Hiya! The southern islands are calling me! This is Junpei Iori!

Goodbye to the tense atmosphere we've had for a while! And hello to the new tropical sea breeze! Welcome to YAKUSHIMA!

Hello, is this Okinawa?

Wow, I've already finished preparing for my trip, and all that's left is to wait for the day to dawn! I know we're leaving early in the morning, but I can't sleep even at this time. Am I a child?

I just wandered around the dorms, and of course everyone was fast asleep. If the door was unlocked, I thought I'd sneakily check everyone's belongings, but as expected, the security was strong. Hmm, what a shame.

Even if I could check everyone's belongings, it wouldn't be much fun to look inside Sanada-san's or the leader's bags. Of course it's swimsuits!

Ah, I wonder what kind of swimsuits everyone is wearing.

Based on my image, first of all, Yukari-chan is wearing a swimsuit for competitive swimming or something sporty-looking? However, she doesn't seem all that excited this time, so I guess we can't expect anything sexy or anything like that. Well, I'm not expecting much.

7/22 (Wed) - Reporter: Akihiko Sanada

Fuuka... Hmm, that's difficult. A quiet girl like that can unexpectedly wear a shocking swimsuit. By the way, with a flat body type, a bikini might actually make her look more stylish, so let's hope a little. Kirijo-senpai! Of course it's a bikini! It can't be anything else! The color is black! Oh, and a queen-style one-piece with a plunging chest and back... wow, I can't decide!

7/20 (Mon) - Reporter: Mitsuru Kirijo

Ah, ah. ...Is it recording?

Okay. ...It's Kirijo.

Starting tonight, I'll be living on Yakushima. I probably won't be doing anything as part of the Specialized Extracurricular Execution Squad, but I brought some spare backup equipment just in case. I'll also record it as usual. Where should I start... Too many things happened at once today. I'm a bit confused too.

Yes, I was able to meet Father for the first time in a long time. I was relieved to see that he looks as healthy as ever. Everyone in SEES seemed surprised by Father's eyepatch, but that was Father's way of making amends. When dealing with bigwigs in the political and financial world, if he looks like that, he will be looked down upon as a "man who puts up a false front." He could have just gotten a prosthetic eye, but Father still doesn't take off the eyepatch so that he won't forget the accident.

By the way, Iori and the others were surprised by the maids too, but are they really that rare? Recently, Iori and the others have been featured on TV and in magazines, so I thought it was completely commonplace...

Anyway, at Iori's insistence, we headed to the beach as soon as we arrived. Hehe, Iori, I heard your report yesterday. Sorry about the bikini, but the color didn't live up to your expectations. It's true that there are always a lot of black clothes in the dorm, but that's because of my love of motorcycles. There are a lot of leather products, so naturally there's a lot of black. It's not that I particularly like black. Well, you'll have to make do with that swimsuit for the duration of this trip.

I guess there's no way I won't mention this. Father is amazing after all. It seems he knew everything I was doing. The truth about the experiment ten years ago that I didn't know, or rather, that I had avoided because I was afraid of finding out the truth. In fact, I had asked Yamagishi to try to break into Kirijo's mainframe, and he knew about that too.

Father...told me everything. Everything that happened ten years ago. And about the unexpected connection between Takeba and Kirijo...

I had no idea why Takeba was so passionate about the truth. Yukari's father, Eiichiro Takeba. He was the chief researcher at the time.

I'm sure she believed him... If the situation was reversed, I would do the same. I would believe in Father's innocence and seek out the truth. But what if that were to be betrayed...

No, there's no point in talking hypothetically. Only Takeba knows what's in Takeba's heart. I'm sure she wouldn't want me to sympathize with her so easily.

Takeba, believe me...I really didn't know about your father. ...What should I do? I don't have the words to say...

7/21 (Tue) - Reporter: Yukari Takeba

Hehe, I found the equipment.

Uh, it's Takeba.

...This has sound, right?

Geez, Kirijo-senpai, you're here to relax, so isn't it no good bringing something like this.

Uh (cough). I seem to be overthinking it, but I'm fine.

I mean, sorry about yesterday.

I didn't say it, but after talking with the leader who came to call me, I've made up my mind, too, yes!

Anyway, I still think I'll continue to believe. In that video, Dad himself said it was his fault, but if that's the only document left from back then, there's no way to prove that it's true, right?

So, I'll try to struggle a bit.

Also, either way, the situation won't change that we need to defeat the Shadows. I'll continue to fight as usual.

...I'm so embarrassed. I wonder if I should delete this report.

Oh, by the way, changing the subject, that Aigis girl? Robot? Isn't she amazing! I never imagined a robot that can summon Personas. This time she really is a "fighting force" in the literal sense. But why is she a girl? A girl who is a weapon seems a little cute, doesn't she?

Ah, is that voice Junpei? Seriously, there's no need to go out of your way to call him. That guy swims around all day, so why does he have so much energy? I guess I'll just have to go along with it. This was Takeba.

When did Mitsuru bring all this equipment? Well, I guess I'll use it too.

Well, tomorrow is finally the day we return to Iwatodai. Today, the last day, I think we were able to really relax.

For Takeba, she had to face the harsh reality and it wasn't really a vacation... But it seems like she's getting over it well. That's right... I won't say anything unnecessary. When we get back, let's get along as friends again. Once again, nice to meet you.

However, after all that, the biggest surprise was Aigis. As far as I know, that robot exceeds the most advanced technology today. And to think that it was made 10 years ago... Anyway, she's a new member of our team. Let's hope she does well.

Now it's time to settle the pick-up contest... Ah, no. That's not it. Forget it.

7/23 (Thu) - Reporter: Fuuka Yamagishi

This is Yamagishi now.

Welcome home everyone.

This is my first time living in a dormitory, but it already feels like home. Having a place to go back to, a place you want to return to... I'm a little happy.

Everyone is tired today, so we took a break from conquering Tartarus. I was tired too, but talking to Aigis kept me awake... and I ended up staying up late.

Aigis is really amazing. I'm a little good with machines, but I can't believe that this technology has not been known until now.

They say cutting-edge technology is created on the battlefield, but I can't help but think how difficult the battle against shadows was 10 years ago.

Ah, but Aigis herself seems more like a girl with a bit of a natural air about her than a weapon. How did you incorporate a mind into a robot? Mr. Ikutsuki also said that the core part is a black box and that he cannot touch it.

It's also strange that Aigis seems to know the leader. It means that he's having trouble recognizing someone who looks similar to him...

It's no good to take your friends' privacy so seriously, right? First of all, you have to think about how everyone and Aigis can get along.

Oh, that's right. Aigis's way of speaking is interesting, isn't it? It's not exactly military-like, but it's more like an honorific that she learned by mistake. When we swam together in Yakushima, she pointed at my swimsuit and said,

"I am concerned about the armor of that underwater weapon, but is it correct to understand that the emphasis is on maneuverability? If possible, I would like to try modifying it for underwater combat." This is the first time I've seen a robot that wants to wear a swimsuit.

Aigis, it's nice to meet you.

7/24 (Fri) - Reporter: Junpei Iori

Hi, Junpei here. What's up? You brought this report machine to Yakushima? That's fishy, ​​Kirijo-senpai! If I'd known, I could have brought you Junpei Iori's swimsuit watching hour.

Well... well, I can't run away, so I'll tell you... today is the day of the test results.

7/25 (Sat) - Reporter: Yukari Takeba

Uh, this is Takeba.

As of today, we have a new member...or rather, he's not in SEES, he just lives in the same dorm, but a new member has arrived. As the Chairman said before, Amada-kun is moving into the dorm.

...I'm a little, no, I'm really worried, but I hope that Amada-kun won't get caught up in a fight or something like that.

The Chairman seems to be pretty matter-of-fact about it, and seems to be like, "If you can fight, let's have you participate."

I feel like I understand my senior a little bit, so I believe that she has no intention of involving Amada-kun. But even so, you still say "at this point," right? Oh, no, I'm not complaining, I know that you're in a position where you have to say that, and that's what you're saying because you yourself are thinking about it. As the head of SEES, you have to think about all the possibilities.

Yes, it’s just a possibility.

So, for now, please take this as my personal opinion as Yukari Takeba. I am against letting Amada fight. Unless Amada himself has a very good reason to fight, I am against it.

Please remember that.

7/26 (Sun) - Reporter: Junpei Iori

Hello, it's Junpei!

Hehehe, having a great summer!

But I'm always like this. I have an innocent heart that is happy to take a day off!

That's the image I want as a healthy high school boy! So, summer vacation starts today. Ah, the long and painful midterms, the long and painful final exams, the occasional but painful quizzes, the painful first semester, Wow! Well, anyway, summer vacation starts today. Let's have fun starting tomorrow!

…Huh. Well, I know it's stupid to make a fuss by myself, even if I say so myself.

However, I just couldn't help but make a fuss today...

Ai-chan did a simulation of what would happen if the number of Lost continued to increase, in other words, if we don't do our jobs properly... but the results were worse than I expected, and I'm feeling depressed.

It feels like a huge responsibility.

7/27 (Mon) - Reporter: Yukari Takeba

Uh, this is Takeba.

What's up, Junpei? You've given it some thought. Yes, that's right, it's a big responsibility. Well, keep that in mind and work hard. Just don't do stupid things.

8/3 (Mon) - Reporter: Yukari Takeba

Come to think of it, I didn't see the leader today, but he's doing intensive training for the sports club. He'll do his best, too. Maybe I should go to the archery club's voluntary training too...

7/28 (Tue) - Reporter: Aigis

Hello, this is Aigis.

I completely understand the system for this activity report. Mitsuru-san, there is no need to look at me with such a worried expression. Even though I look like this, I am good with machines. ...Would you be surprised if I was weak with machines? I don't know why you have such an impression, but in any case, it will be fine. I am completely safe.

However...though I understand the system, but what should I talk about?

Among the various things that happened that day, is there anything that you want to tell everyone or that you feel you need to teach them...?

Well, the one thing that I think needs to be reported in the sense that it is different from usual is the physiological changes that occurred in Sanada-san when he confronted Amada-san.

The pulse rate becomes unstable, there are changes in the secretion of adrenaline and other brain substances, and the parasympathetic nervous system seems to be somewhat inhibited...huh?

Even if you know that, is it better not to say anything?

Is that...consideration...?

Because the boundary conditions are unclear, I cannot reach a complete understanding, but I will try.

7/29 (Wed) - Reporter: Fuuka Yamagishi

Good evening, this is Yamagishi.

I'm a little tired today. Ah, but how can I put it, it's a pleasant tiredness?

Anyway, I'll give you a quick report on what happened tonight. A while after entering the Dark Hour, my Lucia picked up a Shadow's signal near Naganari Shrine. It was an irregular Shadow that appeared in places other than Tartarus, as I had heard. I asked Sanada-senpai to rush to the scene, and then we all rushed over to support him... Whew. I'm still excited. To my surprise, Koro-chan was there, and he activated his Persona ability and defeated the Shadow!

Koro-chan always guarded his master's place. That alone was impressive, but I never imagined he was a Persona User...

Oh, to continue. Koro-chan was pretty badly injured, but he's currently in the veterinary hospital, apparently resting. I was surprised to see so much blood, but I guess Kirijo-senpai's first aid was good. Anyway, Koro-chan is safe. ...That's a relief.

Oh, and there was one more thing that surprised me. Aigis can understand dog language! You said that it's a means of communication other than words...like gestures? Isn't that right? I'd like to ask her more about that next time.

7/30 (Thu) - Reporter: Akihiko Sanada

Yes, the full moon is coming up soon, but is everyone prepared? We only have one week left to prepare. We don't have much time, so let's get pumped. Is that okay?

By the way, Aigis said the day before yesterday...do you think I look different in front of Amada? Yes...maybe.

Junpei says that I'm more mature and cocky than him, and Amada himself doesn't seem to want to be treated like a child, but I think that I couldn't be more childlike.

His gaze is so straight and so pure that it hurts...I wonder if I'm qualified to return his gaze head-on.

Everyone is pure when they're children. But when it comes to our age, I somehow feel that we can't get by on pureness alone. But I'm not ready to live a cunning life either. I guess that half-heartedness makes him feel inferior to innocent children... Well, I would never say that I want to become an adult who is used to the dirty things that most people see. But... Aigis has a keen eye. Your consideration for human relationships may be greater than that of our leader or Junpei. Aigis, are you really a robot? There must be a small person inside you... right? That's even more frightening to imagine.

7/31 (Fri) - Reporter: Mitsuru Kirijo

It's Kirijo.

I've been busy with chores for a while, but I think this is the first time I've reported since Yakushima. Hehe... I'm being lazy, which is unbecoming of a club president.

I'm late in replying, but I understand Takeba's opinion about Amada. To be honest, I'm also against letting a child like that take part in the battle.

I myself have been on the front lines of the battle against shadows since I was a child. I just can't imagine that that contributed to my healthy development. I know I'm boasting, but I'd like to be praised for not becoming too distorted.

Now, as for the report, there's nothing in particular...Oh, that's right. The vet contacted me regularly and said that Koromaru is progressing well. It seems Yamagishi and the leader were worried about him. I'll just report it here.

It's almost time for the full moon. Everyone, make sure you're prepared.

8/1 (Sat) - Reporter: Junpei Iori

Hey, it's Junpei!

Only 5 more days until the full moon! I'm really fired up this time! I was watching Koromaru and I was moping around until the other day, which is pathetic. I can't lose, can I?

By the way, Leader, the actual game is tomorrow, right? I can't go to cheer you on, but do your best!

8/2 (Sun) - Reporter: Fuuka Yamagishi

Good evening, this is Yamagishi.

I have some good news for you today. The leader won a top prize in the National High School Myoo Cup, a tournament for sports clubs!

Even though it was summer vacation, it was worth it to train hard every day. Congratulations.

...That said, the person in question was still like, "I don't really care." Ah, but recently I've started to understand the subtle changes in his expression. Today he looked really happy.

I'm embarrassed to say this so formally, but I feel like the leader always helps me, from the first time he rescued me from Tartarus to when I fell into an enemy trap during last month's operation. It might be strange considering we're the same age, but I think the closest feeling we have is one of "respect."

I'd like to do my best to be of some help to him in the future. Junpei said he won't lose to Koro-chan, but I have to make sure I don't lose to everyone else either.

For now, I'm doing image training for the next battle. What to do if the enemy loses their presence, how to lead them if I detect multiple enemies at the same time, etc. If you have any opinions, please feel free to tell me.

Well, this is Takeba. Anyway, congratulations on winning, leader! You did a great job. The Myo-o Cup is a pretty high level, isn't it? If you keep going like this, I think you can make it to the national tournament. Will you be popular in the second semester? Ah, aside from that, I'd rather report something like this: "I happened to see this kind of person'' on TV, but I did see a strange person.

8/4 (Tue) - Reporter: Junpei Iori

He was at a takoyaki shop in Saitodai Shopping Arcade, stuffing takoyaki into his mouth with incredible force. He had an athletic look, and I'd say he could be considered good-looking, but his face as he devoured it... It's what's inside that counts. This was Takeba.

Hi...Junpei...it's hot.

It has been really hot since the afternoon, but the night was a tropical one just as expected! I wasn't expecting anything like that. I wish it would go against our expectations and snow!

Ugh, the heat is making my brain overheat, seriously.

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[sonkitty]

Timestamp Notes and Theory for Episode 1: The Arrival

This post was last updated 08/27/2024.

I am heavily referencing this wonderfully helpful post: timeline rundown. I am also referencing this post, The Main Bookshop Clock's Hands are BACKWARDS and Other Revelations!

Below are my notes for an overall forming theory and then getting into the specifics of episode 1. I have a few different notes of what I think the time is from the referenced link above, will be naming the days, and guessing some order.

Reminder that I'm growing more confident in my theory that Crowley earns his red streak from a Big Miracle performed the first time Gabriel arrived with a cardboard box.

...

This theory is very tentative.

Episode 1 is an out-of-order mix of Saturday, Sunday, and Monday. Most of it is Monday.

Maggie and Nina might not have "existed" until Monday. In Before the Beginning, we are informed of the concept of "pre-aged" stars, so these characters might be like that. They are "pre-aged" humans, whether that's from the Big Miracle Crowley did or was part of or the Metatron messing with the book that holds most or all of this story or Adam creating a pocket reality or whatever.

The clothing for Maggie and Nina is the story's main clue that most of episode 1 is Monday. Their clothing also gives clues for the other days.

In that timeline rundown link, my interpretation of events is that before Crowley enters Heaven in the present day, the clock by Aziraphale's desk works such that the ornate hand is the minute, and the other hand is the hour.

This functionality reverses no later than Maggie and Nina being shown using fire extinguishers on the demons in the bookshop. From that point onward, the ornate hand will be the hour, and the other hand will be the minute. I took some extra time and effort to check the 1941 minisode and season 1 out of curiosity. The clock hands match the meaning for after Crowley returns from Heaven in episode 6, where the ornate hand is the hour, and the other hand is the minute. If my conclusions are correct, the main bookshop clock hands are actually reverting, in episode 6, to how they operated before Season 2, Episode 1 started.

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Extra ideas:

Something of significance happened 8 months ago because that's how long Maggie has not paid her rent. My main best guess is that is when Hell kicked Crowley out of his flat.

The week that Season 2 covers reset at least once or the overall story is a time loop of different timelines stitched together, including season 1.

With at least two significant games happening in Good Omens 2, the humans are game pieces, and the setting is the game board. Hence, these elements are allowed to shift as part of the games. The games are The Sideburns Scheme and Earthly Objects.

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Episode 1: The Arrival

The present day part of episode 1 starts on Monday sometime before 4:20PM.

When Aziraphale receives Maggie's note, it's difficult to find the clock, but it is there. The time is, conceivably, 3:58PM. If the hands are not reversed yet, the time is possibly 11:20AM. Based on the season overall and maybe the bookshop closing at 3:30PM, I do think 3:58PM is the correct time.

In t he record shop, Maggie's watch is visible when Aziraphale visits, but I find it very difficult to read since it seems to fluctuate during the scene itself. Based on what I can read of it, I hesitantly think it goes 12:25PM, 12:32PM, 12:00PM, 11:25AM, 11:57AM. With such fluctuation, I don't trust it. But still, I'll acknowledge that I tried to check it. Again, based on how the whole series goes, Aziraphale's bookshop clock looks to have the more likely correct time.

Aziraphale receives Maggie's note.

Aziraphale goes to the record shop and talks to Maggie.

...

Crowley in St. James' Park. According to the referenced timeline rundown post, chimes indicate 5:00PM. I could not find all 5 but will trust that person's judgment better than mine since it's not the type of thing I even knew to check for at all. I think this day is Sunday, not Monday, and happened before the past two scenes of Aziraphale receiving Maggie's letter and their conversation in the record shop. Crowley has earned his red streak, receives his mail, and will throw the mail away later.

Back to Monday...

Maggie enters the coffee shop, talks to Nina.

Nina reacts to the events happening outside.

For now, my guess is Gabriel's naked arrival sequence is actually still Monday, possibly two different versions of Monday due to how the extras shift in the background. It could be both Saturday and Monday instead, but I haven't been able to figure it out. I lean more toward two different versions of Monday.

...

Aziraphale getting up from chair to answer door, 4:20PM.

Maggie and Nina comment on what they saw.

Michael on phone in Heaven. My current speculation thinks this phone call is also Monday but actually more like 10:04AM, rather than between 4:20PM and 4:26PM. My reasoning is admittedly very biased in trying to fit the pieces where I want them to be. Such a time would allow Shax to receive news that events in Heaven are related to Gabriel, then pass that along. She has not been given the specifics of the threat on the Book of Life. I would rather think such is the order of things than that Crowley's supernatural time zone is off from bookshop time by something close to 5-6 hours.

...

Gabriel receives hot chocolate in bookshop, 4:26PM.

...

Crowley throwing mail away, then looking at phone by his car in isolated street, 10:35AM. This day is Monday morning. This scene took place before the Whickber street scenes but not Michael on the phone in Heaven. This scene is the morning after Crowley met with Shax on Sunday when she gave him his mail. The mail is supposed to connect the scenes as close to each other in the sequence of the story.

...

Crowley answering phone, his watch shows 11:35AM. I think this one is Crowley making Shax wait for an hour to manage his personal space with his sideburns. So, still Monday morning before most other scenes.

...

Aziraphale looks in the cardboard box. When he asks what was brought, the clock says 4:30PM. The fly was in the box.

Aziraphale calls Crowley. Gabriel still has hot chocolate to indicate not a lot of time has passed.

Heaven, Matchbox Muriel Scene #1, Muriel finding the matchbox. At this point, Heaven seems to line up with the time that is happening in London on Earth. Muriel finding this matchbox at something like 5:00PM. This speculation is, again, me being biased on trying to fit things where I want them to go. It is based on a basic work day of Earth ending at 5PM for many. Since Heaven doesn't seem to sleep and always has daylight, Muriel could have been between shifts of what they were working on to somewhat mimic an Earth office environment. Also, this part would fit the time between the last time-stamp shown and the next potential time-stamp shown.

Crowley enters the coffee shop, presumed Monday due to Nina's employee and Nina's clothing.

Crowley sits down, and there is a sign that isn't behind him yet. In the next cut of him sitting, there is a "TODAY'S SPECIALS HONOLULU ROAST" sign. That sign has Nina's handwriting. The other sign above it doesn't. The shift could be a sign of the differing timelines. That is the more plausible and easy idea in play.

Due to my retying studies, knowing that Crowley performed The Perfect Entrance Trick on the way in, and knowing that the spaces read Crowley due to his sideburn lengths, I'm starting to suspect those silly Tied Hands can perform tricks. In this case, this event is like a little trick he and the space perform with each other to make something appear.

Plus, the sign seems to be acting as an assist while Crowley's Tied Hands manage a Table Connection Reflection (best guess for the name from me). The full text of the sign is visible when Crowley says, "Charmed." It's the last cut with his hand touching its reflection on the table before he leans forward in the next cut.

A previous draft of this post considered that the sign was a hint to a potential Saturday visit, but I have since changed my mind. I think it's Monday during the whole scene. It could be two different versions of Monday, or it could be trickery because Crowley's a demon playing around with the space, or it could be both of those things, but I'm still guessing it is Monday.

Crowley and Aziraphale exit the coffee shop and encounter Maggie with the record. They then finish crossing the street.

Maggie gives Nina the record. Nina says "Back again?" to indicate the day is the same one as shown earlier. Maggie's dialogue mentions getting a "...final something. End of the day."

...

In the bookshop, Crowley removes his sunglasses and starts the scene with, "I wasn't gonna say this out there..." The main bookshop clock is not visible during this scene. The other one that occasionally shows up is visible and blurry when Gabriel brings out the yellow feather duster. I have it at questionably 5:25PM. For almost all of this scene, the framing is making it clear that Crowley's red streak is there.

...

Bookshop, private room scene #1 of the season. I'm not sure which day most of this scene is when considering both Saturday and Monday. There is a clue about Monday with just dumping Gabriel and the Something Terrible in the dialogue. There is a clue about Saturday due to Crowley's mostly lacking red streak. So, it seems to be a mix of both days, playing out the same way, and then something happened after Crowley's exit to change things.

Crowley has a subtle demonic hiss and says, "You're on your own with this one." That's Saturday because the timing and framing is showing that he hasn't earned his red streak yet.

The first cut after the door is shown as opened is Gabriel pretending to be Crowley. I theorize that the day there is also Saturday, or at least represents Saturday.

Then in the next cut is Aziraphale pretending to be Crowley. By then, the day is Sunday, or the cut at least represents Sunday. He passes by the cardboard box, leaving it untouched and unquestioned. While Aziraphale does not have a more saturated streak of red hair, red that is more red, he does have a brighter streak of hair where the more saturated streak tends to appear above Crowley's left eye.

Additionally, the clothing is more blue, much like Crowley's clothing in the park scene earlier this episode where I speculated the day was Sunday.

These characters are editing the story to indicate Crowley will storm out on Monday.

They also cut what was found out about the box and actions taken that involved putting the Book of Life into the matchbox without setting off the alarms in Heaven yet. They make themselves forget, leaving themselves clues to solve their own puzzle.

Crowley would have earned his red streak through a Big Miracle that happened at midnight on Sunday with a full moon.

...

Once Crowley has three visible fingers touching his sunglasses, the storyline has returned to Monday, as it then joins with the Monday clothing Maggie and Nina are wearing. They watch Crowley from the window.

Crowley shouts "Ten!" and the lightning shoots out from him.

Maggie and Nina end up locked in the coffee shop.

In Heaven, Michael and Uriel talk. Eventually, Saraqael and Muriel arrive for Matchbox Muriel Scene #2.

Back on Earth, Crowley arrives at his car in the isolated street at night.

Beelzebub summons Crowley to Hell.

Having exited Hell, Crowley starts driving to return to the bookshop.

In the coffee shop, Maggie and Nina run to hold out their signs. A passerby does not stop to help them.

Crowley driving, changes three traffic lights.

Maggie and Nina talk about the record shop's history.

...

Crowley arrives and restores power to the coffee shop. The time is 21:02 (9:02PM) on Nina's phone.

...

The story wants it known that the apology dance happened at 9:06PM. The clock by Aziraphale's desk is as clear as it will ever be on that point.

...

When Crowley finishes the dance, the other clock behind him is visible, and that time looks more like 9:00PM.

...

After Gabriel says, "Where did you come back from?" the bookshop clock looks a little burred but now more like 8:01PM. We've gone back an hour. There are too many other indications this day is still Monday for me to think we've reverted to Saturday. Crowley's hair being charged with so much red is the main one. The scene is also too cohesive for me to think that the events within it are out of order.

As Gabriel is saying, "Is it big on the outside?" still seems to be 8:01PM.

Crowley telling Gabriel no, still seems to be 8:01PM.

Aziraphale suggesting half a miracle, seems more blurry but 8:01PM.

The clock is intentionally too blurry just as Crowley is describing how small they have to make the miracle.

...

With the camera panning down during the miracle, the time seems to be 9:01PM or 9:02PM.

...

The clock is intentionally too blurry with Crowley saying, "I don't know. Probably."

As Gabriel gets up from the chair, the clock has switched back to just after 8PM.

Crowley, preparing to stand on chair, still just after 8PM.

Crowley, jumping down, still just after 8PM.

In Heaven, the alarms go off.

...

So, the way I read it, after Crowley returns at night, the clock can only ever be trusted on the point that Crowley danced at 9:06PM. The characters telling us this story aren't concerned about the clock consistency or clarity for a lot of the scene, but they definitely want us to know that Crowley danced at that specific time. That's why they are making it as clear as possible and not so much the other times.

If you want to get more specific, Crowley is telling us the time was 9:06PM, and he is more certain of that than the other characters because of the clock being so clear. He's the one in the best position to sense-with-his-eyes that clock at that time. His layered play in the games probably wanted that time too.

From here on out, the story is actually more honest about the order of present day events. Background humans will act or be positioned oddly. Sometimes the clocks will have questionable times and continuity errors, but the story will flow forward, naming or hinting to previous events affecting those being experienced in the present. Aziraphale will tell us that the scene between him and the Metatron happened already when things are shown out of order in episode 6.

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That's all for this post.

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More: Timestamp Notes for Episodes 2-5