#because they were besties...............................................

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

baby, can i please taste?

genre: smut, very little plot

warnings: periods, blood, mentions of scent, mentions of masturbation, oral (f.receiving dont yell at me!) , biting, unprotected sex, pet names

an: i literally texted bestie “is vampire chan period smut too much?” lmao yall might be grossed out. feel free to skip this one if that’s the case. but holy shit this got away from me and it’s.. so hot lol i screamed and giggled as i typed it. i’m nervous and embarrassed and giggly. 🙈 don’t look at me.

masterlist

‼ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⚠︎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ‼ adults only • mdni ‼ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⚠︎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ‼

you cuddled closer, your head against his chest, arm lazily thrown around his middle. you were both cozy on the couch, your latest drama obsession on the tv. he laughed at something on the screen, his stomach muscles flexing under the material of his shirt. it sent a shot straight to your core. how can the smallest thing turn you on? feeling his abs flex under your arm? it was also cruel that you were on your period. your body likes to play this mean joke on you every month. your period will start, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, your libido will rise. craving to be touched, but unable to do so. you groaned.

“what’s the matter, love?” his arm around you squeezed you tighter. “another cramp?”

he knew you were on your period. of course he did. he’s a vampire. he knows when it’s coming even before you do. he can smell it. he knows days before and he’s always prepared with your favorite snacks and shows. you loved that about him. but do you tell him what’s really on your mind?

you were silent for a moment, weighing your options. you didn’t think he would ever judge you. so you decided that you felt comfortable telling him.

“no.. not a cramp.”

you slid your hand under the fabric of his shirt, your palm splayed across his hard stomach. he stiffened. “baby don’t tease.” he said. “not when i can’t do anything about it.”

you hummed. “that’s exactly how i’m feeling.” you confessed. “frustrating, isn’t it?”

he sat up straighter, slightly pushing you away so he could look down at your face. “uh.. i’m confused?”

for a vampire that’s hundreds of years old, sometimes it takes him a minute to catch on. “i’m horny.” you said, deadpan.

he looked flustered. “oh.” he looked away from you, shifting his weight to hide his growing erection.

“does that bother you?” you asked. “that i’m on my period and i still want you?”

his gaze snapped back to you. this conversation made him nervous but he wanted to be very clear that you could never bother him. “of course that doesn’t bother me.” he said. “you could never bother me.”

“i don’t know.” you said. “i just thought maybe it would.. gross you out?”

“gross me out?” he scoffed. “why? because you’re bleeding?” he dramatically pointed at himself. “vampire. blood is kinda my thing.”

you laughed. “yeah but this is.. different?”

“how so?” he asked. “blood is blood.”

“yeah but this is coming from my..” your sentence trailed off, you couldn’t finish it.

“oh i know where it’s coming from.” he reached down to readjust his now fully erect tent in his pants. “and why would that all of a sudden make it gross? if anything.. it makes it better.”

okay now you were confused. “better?”

he closed his eyes for a minute, trying to compose himself. “you think that i don’t smell you?” he said. “every month i have to go an entire week with your scent being so much stronger. and i know it’s nothing compared to what you have to deal with during that week. that’s not what i mean..” he was rambling. “i just.. it’s the smell of your blood but it’s.. mixed. combined with the sweet smell of your pussy..” he inhaled deeply. his hands balling into fists. “i’m on edge all week.”

your clit pulsed with need. begging to be touched. “does.. the smell get stronger when i’m aroused?” you let your fingers explore the ridges of his muscle, rubbing your thighs together. “because this happens every month.. i always get needy around this time.”

“yeah it gets stronger.” his jaw was clenched. his nostrils flared. his eyes wild. “i know when you’re feeling that way. i.. i’ve had to excuse myself to the bathroom before to relieve some.. tension.”

you bit your lip. the mental image of him, locked in the bathroom, secretly fucking his fist to the thought of you on your period.. you couldn’t lie. it was hot.

“why haven’t you ever done something about it?” you ask. “why hide in the bathroom?”

he looked down at you. “i never wanted to make you uncomfortable. i didn’t want you to think i was some sort of.. deviant or something.” he chuckled nervously.

“i don’t think that.” your hand traveled down, ghosting over his clothed cock. “and.. what if i said i didn’t want you to hide?”

“then i would fuck you. with your permission, i won’t hold back any more.”

you squeezed his erection in your hand. “you have my permission.” you whispered, staring into his eyes.

and it was like something in him.. snapped. with a growl he scooped you up in his arms, carrying you to the bathroom.

he sat you on the counter. standing between your legs, he cupped your face in his hands. he kissed you deeply, his tongue invading your mouth. you clawed at his shirt, silently begging him to take it off. you wanted to see his beautiful body. he broke the kiss and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side. he leaned into the shower, turning the knob. the water started running, steam slowly filling the room. you looked at him.

“i figure you don’t want to have to wash the sheets tonight.” he said.

you nodded. “you’re so smart.”

he kissed you again, before pulling your shirt off and throwing it on the floor next to his. he kissed down your neck, down to your breast. he nibbled gently, careful not to cut you with his fangs, which were fully revealed now, poking at his plump lower lip. your hands tugged at his curls, your head thrown back.

he grabbed you by the waist, effortlessly lifting you off the counter and placing you on your feet. he delicately traced his fingers along your skin, kissing you once more. he always knew how to make you feel beautiful. how to make you feel like you were precious to him. and that’s exactly what you were.. precious.

you tugged at the elastic of his boxers, wanting to feel the soft skin of his cock in your hand. he helped you pull them down, kicking them to the side. he stood before you, fully naked, and devastatingly handsome. he was all muscle, especially right now, his vampire body was tight and on edge. you wrapped your hand around him, pumping him slowly. he groaned, his head falling to your shoulder. he let you stroke him for a moment, enjoying the way your small hand felt against him. but he was growing impatient.

he dropped to his knees, hooking his fingers in your panties. he looked up at you, keeping eye contact as he pulled them down your legs. you were slightly embarrassed by the sight of your pad, attached to your underwear, but he didn’t seem to care. he paid it no mind, setting your panties to the side. his big hands gripped at your thighs, his mouth watering. your scent was so strong, his face only inches from your center, with no more obstacles in his way. he could taste his venom on his tongue.

he gazed at your pussy, the look on his face almost.. hypnotized? he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on your mound, fighting the urge to bite. “baby..” his voice was rough and deep, gravely with desire. “fuck.. angel.. i want you so bad.” his hands traveled around to squeeze your bare ass. “we better get in the shower before i make a mess on the rug.”

he stood up, kissing you, his erection poking at your skin. he held the curtain open for you, offering you his hand to hold as you stepped in. “careful baby.” he said. “and don’t stand in the water yet. i don’t want anything washed away.”

your cheeks flushed at his admission. he stepped in after you, opting to stand in the water himself, the droplets cascading down the ridges of his chest and tummy. he wasted no time in dropping to his knees again. he kissed along your thighs, looking up at you through his lashes. “can i?” he asked. he kissed his way over to your hip and then back across to the other side. “baby can i please taste? please?”

you nodded, spreading your legs wider for him. his pupils were so dilated that his eyes almost looked black. his dark eyes gazed upon your bare pussy again, his hands coming up to spread your lips apart. he inhaled, closing his eyes to fully appreciate your sweet scent. his cock jumped, slapping softly against his tummy, begging to be touched.

his fingers spreading your lips apart, he leaned forward and let his tongue slowly lave against your clit. you whimpered at the contact, finally getting some relief. he let his tongue dip into your hole and his chest rumbled with a low growl. he lifted one of your legs and draped it over his shoulder, giving him better access. his strong arms wrapped around your thighs, helping to hold you up. he lost himself in the taste of you, he had never had anything so delectable in his entire existence.

his fingers dug into your soft skin, his tongue pressing deeper inside you, licking at your walls. the sounds coming from his throat were almost animalistic. he groaned and grunted as he savored you. one of your hands tangled in his curls, pushing him further into you, his nose brushing your clit. “fuck..” you exhaled. you rocked your hips, rolling them against his face, riding his tongue. with each pass of your hips, your clit rubbed back and forth against his nose.

normally, in this situation, he would slide a finger or two into you. but he refused to pull his tongue out to make room for his fingers. and you didn’t mind, you were lost in the pleasure, loving the way he made you feel. “channie..” you breathed. “fuck.. i’m gonna cum..”

his nails dug into your flesh, sure to leave little crescent shaped bruises. he moaned against you, the vibrations spreading through your body. he drank from you, while never having to use his fangs. you ground yourself harder against his face, practically humping his nose. his cock was painfully hard. he wrapped his hand around himself, slowly stroking as he continued to taste you. your body began to shake above him. he slurped against your pussy, not ever wanting this to end.

with one final moan, you came apart. your thrusting hips stilled as your body convulsed. a new taste landed on his tongue, and he lapped it up, not wanting to waste a drop. he continued to eat you, lost in the taste, refusing to let go. his fantasy had finally come true, he just wanted to enjoy it a little longer.

instead of pulling on his curls, you started to push. “channie.. to much..” you complained, starting to feel overstimulated. with one final pass of his tongue along your walls, he forced himself to stop. he leaned back, resting on his heels. his lips and chin were red with your blood, his eyes closed, a stupid blissful smile on his face.

“that was amazing..” he panted. his eyes finally opened to look at you. you giggled at him.

“it was.” you agreed. “did you enjoy yourself?”

“fuck.” he scoffed. “i wish i could do that for the rest of eternity.” he leaned back into the stream of water, rinsing his face clean. you admired the way the water clung to his lips, how his hair stuck to his forehead.

he slowly stood up, his hands finding your hips, his lips finding your lips. his cock poking between your legs. he was still so hard. “i almost came in my hand.” he confessed. “but i want to be inside you when i cum.”

he kisses along your neck, over your pulse point. “is that okay, baby?” he breathed against your skin. “can i cum inside you?”

you head was cloudy. dizzy with desire. “y-yes.”

“hold on to me, yeah?” he put your hands around his neck. you locked your fingers together, gripping him tightly.

he gripped you by your thighs and lifted you off the ground, you legs wrapped around him, his tip prodding your entrance. “i know you tired baby..” he cooed into your ear. “i’ll be quick.”

he gently slid inside of you, the stretch making you whimper. he gave you a brief moment to adjust to him before he started slamming into you. he bounced you on his cock, used you like a toy for his own release. “you’re so perfect baby.” he praised. “letting me taste you and use you during this time.” he grunted. “gonna let me pump you full.”

you were practically limp in his arms, your body exhausted. but still your pussy fluttered around him, loving the way he felt inside of you. “mmm” he moaned. “there she is. there’s my girl pulsing around me. you gonna cum too baby?” he kissed along your shoulder, along you neck, licking at your skin, looking for the perfect spot, warning you.

you moaned, unable to form any words, but still your high approaching. “there you go baby. i’m not going to last much longer. you feel so good.” he rambled. “cum with me baby. come on.”

and after a few more thrusts, and a carefully placed bite, you did. the feeling of his fangs sliding into the delicate skin of your neck, caused you to clamp down around him, your nails digging into his neck as you held on, your body shaking. he stilled inside you, his cock twitching, releasing all he had. he only took a couple mouthfuls from your before he released, licking across the wound to help seal it.

he held you for a moment, both of you panting. he carefully slid out of you, and placed you down on shaky legs. “can you stand?” he asked, your feet on the floor but your weight still being held by him.

you nodded. “i think so..” he cautiously let you go. you held onto his arms, but were successfully able to hold yourself up. he held your hands, slowly stepping backwards, pulling you into the stream of water. he turned the knob, making it warmer. he grabbed the soap, squeezing some into his palm and gently cleaning you up. he cleaned himself and then shut the water off. he reached out around the curtain and grabbed a large towel, wrapping it around your body.

“are you okay, honey?” he asked, tucking your wet hair behind your ear.

you looked up at him, smiling. “mhm.” you said, before leaning into him. he wrapped his arms around you, your face against his chest. “are you okay?” you asked him.

“i loved every second of it, baby.” he said, kissing the top of your head. “as long as you don’t think differently of me.”

you looked up at him. “of course i don’t.” you brought your hand to his cheek. “i love you.”

“and i love you.” he smiled, placing a gentle kiss against your lips. “now let’s dry off and go finish our show. i have to know what happens.”

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

♡ pls reblog if you liked it! it truly helps a lot and makes me smile :) ♡

©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.

[shinig6mis]

you are awful at video games.

you know this. tomura knows this. the entire internet probably knows this by now, considering you’ve spent countless nights on his stream getting absolutely obliterated in every match, no matter how much he tries to coach you. and he does try, though half the time it’s through gritted teeth and muttered insults, hands twitching as if resisting the urge to just snatch the controller away from you and do it himself.

but you’re having fun, and that’s all that matters, right?

wrong.

tonight, you're sitting cross-legged on his gaming chair, wearing one of his oversized hoodies (because he said it was cold and refused to turn the heater on). tomura is beside you, sprawled on his bed, hoodie pulled up over his head as he watches you struggle through a level you should've cleared twenty minutes ago.

his stream chat is ruthless.

how is she this bad

pls put her out of her misery

tomura blink twice if you're in pain

he sighs loudly, letting his head fall back against the mattress. "you're killing me, princess. literally dying over here."

"i'm trying!" you whine, gripping the controller tighter. "the combos are confusing!"

he peeks at the screen just as your character plummets off the edge for the hundredth time. "jesus. do you want me to suffer? is that your plan?"

"shut up," you mumble, brows furrowed in concentration. "i'm focusing."

he scoffs, rolling onto his side to face you. "you’re embarrassing me in front of everyone."

"oh no! what a tragedy." you stick your tongue out at him before turning back to the game, missing the way his eyes flicker down to your lips for just a second too long.

he clicks his tongue, tapping away on his phone as his chat continues roasting you. he’s about to make some smart ass comment when he notices something that makes his fingers tighten around his phone.

someone in chat just said you were cute.

he stares at the message, then at the dozens of others popping up after it.

she’s actually so adorable

lowkey wanna wife her

im down bad for ur noob bestie tomura

a slow, simmering irritation builds in his chest.

he’s used to his chat being unhinged. they say dumb shit all the time. but for some reason, the idea of random faceless losers thirsting over you is making his jaw clench.

you're his best friend. his pain in the ass. his.

not theirs.

he doesn’t say anything at first, just subtly adjusts the camera angle so you’re barely visible in frame anymore. but his chat immediately notices.

tomura MOVE

why u blocking the view bro

he’s gatekeeping her lmao

his eye twitches. "shut up."

"who are you talking to?" you ask, not looking away from the screen.

"no one," he mutters, fingers tapping aggressively against his phone screen as he bans a few particularly annoying users from chat.

but it doesn’t stop. they keep talking about you, and the more they do, the worse his mood gets. he watches, silently seething, as you laugh at something, completely unaware of the way his grip tightens around his phone. you’re just so oblivious, so utterly clueless to the fact that he’s sitting right there, trying not to be a jealous, possessive freak over something as dumb as this.

it’s fine. it’s whatever. he doesn’t care.

except he does.

and when you finally beat the level, turning to him with a beaming smile and expecting praise, all you get is a grumpy huff as he yanks the controller from your hands.

"my turn. you suck."

"hey! i just finished that level!"

"yeah, after thirty minutes."

he ignores your protests, shoving his headset fully on and gripping the controller like he's about to unleash hell. his fingers move expertly over the buttons, and within seconds, he’s speeding through levels like they’re nothing. his chat is going insane, but he barely pays attention, too focused on demolishing every enemy in sight.

meanwhile, you slump against his shoulder, pouting. "you’re so mean."

he stiffens for half a second before relaxing, pretending not to care about the way your warmth seeps into his side.

"and you're awful at games," he grumbles, but his voice is softer now, barely audible over the sounds of combat filling the screen.

he doesn’t push you away.

and when you stay pressed against him, he doesn’t complain.

© 2025 shinig6mis | do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my work.

[gabbytvclarke]

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

Part one here! ♥ Part two 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.

♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥ 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

[f1fansfantasy]

Sports Car - Oscar Piastri x Reader

Inspired by Sports Car- Tate McRae, the alley part isn’t the same but you get me.

Warnings and not is this particular order: smut, sex, kissing, touching, body fluids, fingering, friends to lovers, sex in a car, p in v, not using a condom (use protection).

Important: this is not my first language, there might be some grammatical errors and you can tell me if you find any.

Please do not read this if you’re minor, this is not for you.

-

Oscar and I were best friends, we had met at the Australian Gp back in 2023 and became closer since the first moment we saw each other.

I loved everything about him…well…I loved him..he just didn’t know it.

I tried to hide it, I was scared. It made sense, he was a celebrity, a f1 driver, an amazing person to top it all off….I was scared to lose him.

I loved to stare at him secretly when he turned around and changed in front of me, or was looking for his helmet and gloves in the McLaren garage. His big back, that grew a lot and kept growing, his fluffy hair, hazel eyes…koala eyes…and big arms he used to hug me whenever he saw me close to him.

Those addictive freckles that covered his enti- “Y/n?”- said Oscar, while driving fast in his McLaren back to the hotel we were staying at that weekend. I blushed and stared at him…fuck…I had zoned out.

I shook my head and acted like nothing happened. “You zoned out…everything’s ok?” He sounded a bit worried, Oscar had his hand on the wheel and his eyes on the road as he quickly stared at my body language, trying to interpret it the best he could.

I looked at him “yeah..sorry…didn’t notice” I said softly, trying and hoping that he didn’t read my mind at that moment. He realised there was something wrong as my eye contact with him wasn’t strong, it wasn’t normal…something was off.

He decided to turn right into this rich neighbourhood , middle of the night and park his car right in front of the sea. I had to admit the view was amazing, the moon made the sea shine and now I could see his face a bit more.

We were alone, in the darkness, the houses so big and far apart from the other no one cared about what happened there in the sports car.

I blushed as he stopped the car, took off his seatbelt and looked at me with a serious face “you aren’t ok, are you?” His voice was rough, probably from screaming on the radio of his f1 car.

I looked down and got a bit stiff “I’m sorry…I…I have a lot of things in my mind lately” I said softly.

“Are you stressed?” He asked softly “I want to help you Y/n, I know you’re struggling with something” he admitted as he rested his head on the seat and looked at me.

I swallowed and looked at the sea admitting to myself that my Aussie bestie was so hard on himself that he wouldn’t start the car without helping me first.

I felt my mouth go dry as I said the next words “I haven’t been with someone in a long time and I’m getting intrusive thoughts all the time because of that…all the time…it doesn’t stop” I closed my eyes and sighed, thinking that he would find it weird.

Oscar stared at me sweetly even if I couldn’t see him. I pressed my head against the backrest and hoped for the world to swallow me.

“Is that why you zone out that often?” He said softly and I nodded as I stared at my feet. “Is there any way I could help? Do you need help relaxing or..?” He said worriedly, his eyes analysed my body looking for a solution.

“Oscar…I…I’m lacking comfort..well..and more..more than a friend could give if you get me…this is more of a sexual need” I admitted softly.

After a few long seconds I heard a “I could help you if you want it…” he said softly and I stared at him feeling emotional. “Oscar that’s a lot to ask…you pay for my trips to go all over the world to support you, you are an amazing friend..” I said thinking he was offering it because of pity.

“I want to help..” he said sure of himself, worried about my state, his eyes sweet, caring.. “only if you let me…we can forget this happened if it makes you uncomforta-“ I shut him up.

“Nonono…it doesn’t…not me, I just don’t want you to do it out of pity” I said a bit broken..needy even..

He then understood the reason why I hadn’t spoken with him about it… she thought he would feel pity.

“It’s not pity, I’m your friend, I care for you..I want to see you do well, I swear it isn’t pity” he whispered as he tried to move his hand closer to mine, I allowed him as he interlocked our fingers, his skin warm on mine.

I looked into his eyes and realised he wasn’t lying, I sighed and looked at him “really?….” I whispered. “If you let me” he answered and caressed my hand, I looked into his eyes and nodded acknowledging the situation….he wanted this.

“Sure?” He nodded “ok….I will” I replied and then he fixed his seat, to go all the way back and lowered his window a bit, letting the cold air of the night get inside the car. “Y/n… if you want this come here…” he whispered and I looked into his eyes as I moved carefully on top of the center console of the car and sat on his lap, his thighs were comfortable.

I felt his hands on my waist as he adjusted me on top of him. “Is this ok?” He asked softly, I nodded as I looked down at him.

He put his seat back a bit to create more space and looked at me as he felt my waist, I loved his touch even if it was on top of my clothes. He moved closer and kissed my cheek, I smiled softly at him when he split “you’re sweet”, he blushed and smiled.

He touched my jaw and looked at my lips, without saying a word he saw the way my pupils grew and he moved closer to test me, so close that I could feel his breathing, my heart was pumping fast.

He teased his nose against mine and then with a hand on the back of my neck pushing me softly against him he kissed me like no one had ever done it before, it was a mixture of love and appreciation.

I slowly reciprocated the kiss, getting used to the feeling of the soft skin touching me and his arms lazily holding my body on his. I felt my cheeks getting warm and my lungs running out of air, I split to take a breather and I looked into his eyes, that was it. If I wasn’t in love with this man yet, now I was.

There was my Oscar, hair a bit messy, rosy cheeks…long lashes and shiny lips. I knew that was my place…I couldn’t tell hi- “how did that feel?” He asked as he placed his hand under my shirt and felt my waist, his eyes looking into mine for reassurance.

I touched his cheek and felt his body under mine, his thighs were strong under my frame and my core felt a bit too hot under the layer of fabric.

“That was good..I needed that” I admit shyly. He touched my hair and my waist “can I give you more?…I want you to relax…just stop me if you don’t want to keep going, I don’t want to make you feel unsafe” he whispered.

“I need you” I closed my eyes and breathed out…that was it…I was his.

He started kissing my cheek, my neck…he started a path, a circuit.

Like the ones he knew that well and knew how fast to go on a corner and what gear he should use.

His hands traced my torso and he looked into my eyes as he asked for consent as he lifted my shirt and left it on the passenger seat, he admired my chest and left a kiss on top my heart “i want to make you feel safe and loved…you deserve it Y/n” he breathed out and I touched his jaw and pecked his lips as a thank you, in his eyes you could tell he felt the feeling behind it.

Our hands started pulling the clothes off, shirt…bra…my shorts…his shorts… and everything started making a little mountain on the passenger seat.

I could notice his member under his boxers, he was feeling this make out session like I was, my panties had a stain on them and I got shy because I could feel it. His hand stopped on the elastic of them and he looked into my eyes as I was so close to him I could feel his breath, it was like we were in a bubble. “Can I?” He asked carefully, knowing there was no way back.

I nod and i felt how he discarded them as I moved myself a bit to make his job easier, that was it, I was naked in front of him. He kissed my neck for a moment and touched my cheek “you’re beautiful Y/n…I’ll take care of you ok? You just enjoy” I pecked his lips and smiled…fuck..the butterflies in my belly.

His hands got on his boxers and he lowered them down, I helped him to get them all the way off and with the rest of our clothes. “Mm nice” i whispered, a bit nervous, I haven’t done this in some time.

He smiled and slowly placed my hand on his member, I moved it softly and stroked it to stimulate him. I stole a kiss from his lips and went a bit faster, I could hear him begin to whine and softly moan for me, which made me start to become more aroused.

He looked so good, all perfect and horny underneath me in the Mclaren, absolutely made for me.

I spit on my hand and kept going, he asked me for consent and started teasing my core with his hand, I definitely underrated how big his hands would be on me as one of his fingers graced my entrance. “Hmm” The softest sounds started escaping my lips as my eyes closed.

The moans were getting louder and louder, his fingers started going faster as I felt how I drenched them in my juices. My hand stroked him a bit harder and he hid on the crook of my neck “Os…I’m close..” I breathed out “fuck…me too” he replied.

After a few moments he released on my hand as I felt the warm liquid on it and i shook until my eyes closed and I took a couple breaths as I rested against him, my body trembled from the orgasm and he took care of me until I came back to normal.

I felt his hand on my back as he caressed it “mmmh that was good…you did good” he whispered and i nodded as i kissed him softly. “Mm that was amazing” I blushed and he pulled my hips up for a second until he aligned himself under my body.

“Y/n…we don’t have to go all the way if you don’t want to…” he whispered as he touched my hips, hoping I wasn’t overstimulated and the touches weren’t affecting me in that way.

“What if I do?” i whispered and kissed his neck as he tilted his head back, it was intimate, not that sexual. He hummed and touched my waist. “Then I want this too…. Uhm I don’t think I have a condom” he whispered while looking into my eyes.

“Just pull out…” I whispered “I trust you” I touched his cheek as I looked into his eyes. He swallowed and nodded as he lowered me on his length after asking if I was ready and I felt how it slowly entered my body “hmmmm fuck” I took a couple deep breaths as I touched his hair and he caressed my hips “like that…good girl” I opened my mouth and closed it immediately.

“Oh you liked that?” He teased me, I blushed and I looked down….I couldn’t believe we were doing this.

“I maybe did” I answered snarky, he took my hips as he heard it and started a fast but nice pace considering I haven’t done it in a while…I immediately got dumb on him “fuck…God…ahh mmm fuck” I moaned as I could barely open my eyes, my chest jumped and I got so drunk on the image of him sitting legs open on that seat thrusting into me.

He smiled and went a bit faster as the moans in the car were getting stronger and the sweat was increasing, I held onto him as i had a smile on my face and my legs were as I open as they could be on that seat around his hips, his hips drilling into me.

“Oscar…Oscar…clo-close” I was drunk on the feeling as he nodded and allowed me to collapse on his chest as he felt me finish, he cared for me first and then I felt him pull out and do on his belly, not in me…he kept his promise.

After a couple seconds he took some breaths as he held me and touched my hair, he stared at me with adoration. “So good…you did perfect…how do you feel?” He whispered as he kissed my forehead.

I pecked his lips and hugged his torso “thank you….that was amazing…i love you” I was so tired it escaped my lips and I didn’t notice, he looked at me and his heart started beating faster…she loved me? I had a chance?….

“Y/n please look at me” he begged in a whisper, his eyes deep as the sea in front of us. I did, his eyes looked dark, his pupils consuming all of them. “Yes?” I yawned mid answer.

He touched my cheek “do you really love me or did you love what we did?” He asked…hoping it was the first answer, our bodies still stuck against the other, warm and sticky.

“I wont lie because you know me” I whispered, my voice soft as i touched his cheek, he nuzzled it “I love you…I can’t hide it…not anymore after this…I also loved what we did if I’m honest” I admitted and turned red as a Ferrari “how can I not fall for someone like you?” i wondered out loud.

He smiled and touched my hair “I love you too…I want to take care of you, like tonight but for everyday…in every way I can y/n” he said softly and i felt a tear on my eye “don’t cry for me” he kissed my forehead, I felt home.

“Do you want us to be more or is this too soon?” He asked and i looked up at him and i pecked his lips with a smile and teary eyes “not too soon for me”.

He chuckled and wrapped me tightly in his arms “I love you Y/n” and I nuzzled on his shoulder and answered the same “love you Os”.

*this is only meant to be here, all rights reserved*

[ma1dita]

don't blame the kids

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader prev -> not your goddess | next -> trouble's coming for you words: 7.6k summary: (established relationship (kinda lol)) The one where you both chaperone a trip to Mount Olympus. The Olympians are bigger gossips than you thought they'd be. (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader) a/n: the Chapter—set during the winter solstice; tldr: your dads are besties + hera is a good judge of character.... more d & trouble as requested, enjoy! eh ill edit this once i get back from class later tonight, taglist & ao3 update to be posted then as well

—

Your head falls against the metal of the school bus with an audible thunk. The sound of discordant cackles wakes you up from a dreamless sleep, making you jam your mouth shut and feel your spit go stale on this chilly winter morning.

“Rough night?” 

Keeping your cool despite the pounding headache, you mumble out an incoherent reply to your younger brother, whichever one he was. The old leather seat sighs as one of them sits down, the added weight jostling your legs as you groan and open your eyes to see two blond heads staring at your tired form. One of them peers from over the seat in front while the other leans over your lap, rifling through your backpack for snacks—there’s no such thing as personal space with these two for siblings.

You blink slowly as your vision clears, the cold grayscale interior of the bus still too bright on your eyes.

It’s too early for this shit.

“You’re talking to yourself again,” Pollux grins, noticing briefly that you’ve made an internal thought external. He hands his twin a granola bar from your backpack and leans back against your shoulder.

“Need this weekend to be over already,” you mumble, “just wanna sleep a bit longer and forget all of this. You two helping me later or are you gonna do that juggling bit again with the bottles of ambrosia?”

“Too bad it’s just begun,” Castor chuckles, before flopping back into his seat, then calling out, “and we’re playing the water glasses, thought it would make dad laugh—HEY!“ You tossed your water bottle at him and missed only because he conjured it into his hand and not your intended target of his skull. 

“We’ll be around if you need an extra hand up there,” Pollux murmurs over a hot chip, the crunch reverberating into your ear, “Are we gonna talk about why your boyfriend is on the opposite end of the bus?” Or why he didn’t come to cabin 12 last night… The stealth of sons of Hermes aside, the twins always know when he drops by— Luke usually leaves bags of stolen candy and tiny trinkets tied to their doorknobs when they lose teeth. To be honest, they’ve known the tooth fairy hasn’t existed since they were ten, but Pollux has one last molar he was looking forward to cashing in for a Push-pop.

“Nope.”

“Good talk,” he nods, before belching so loudly you shove him into the aisle, “Ow!”

The rest of the bus is filled with quiet chatter and excitement as you decide to take the chance and get up to survey the handful of campers who join you for the winter solstice. Some of the younger ones are crammed like sardines with bobbing heads as the bumps and turns of the Long Island Expressway rock them in and out of sleep, which is a privilege you were just robbed of. The others that are still excited to see their godrents move animatedly as they clamber over each other and practice their performances for later, a dissonant symphony of prose and instruments out of tune, vines growing from the Demeters’ row, and multiple charcoal pencils rolling along the floor towards the driver sitting up front.

There’s only so much you can hide on a bus, and now that you’re awake…

“Beck!” you hiss as the smell of burning hair wafts through the enclosed space, “No fire on the bus!” The dark-skinned boy looks at you sheepishly, fanning his younger sibling’s singed eyebrows and cracking open a window. Ironically (no pun intended, but while we’re here, ha!) Hephaestus will love his kids even if all of Olympus goes up in smoke. You wish you could say the same for the rest of your campers. The ones left to consider—like those of Hermes, watch the blur of the road whizz past their peripherals, lacking their usual sense of merriment and mischief in knowing their father will be a no-show even on the one day a year they’re allowed to visit. Though a worthless trip off the island is way better than cleaning wine glasses with the nymphs—to them, kitchen duty ends when one’s fingers are about to fall off the bone. 

Making a mental tally of your kids in case any of them have decided to fall out of the vehicle during your much needed break (demigods can get into twice the amount of trouble mortals can in half the time after all), you notice Annie’s waving you over towards her and her seatmate who is coincidentally the only person you wish would drop into the East River.

You make your way over feeling like you’re walking to your death, with your knees buckling with the movements of the bus, momentarily stumbling to a stop in front of their row and conjuring a juice box for Annie with a small smile. Your boyfriend(? — could you still call him that? You remember falling asleep in the storage room counting the sleeping bags, waking up in your bed alone and not much else) looks up at you expectantly as if you’re the one who should have something to say now. You avert your eyes quickly. 

Even on the shortest day of the year, being under his gaze makes time pass slowly like being dipped in molasses. The feeling sits at your throat uncomfortably, and your resolve makes your stomach feel like an endless pit.

“Yeah, Annie?” you say simply. You don’t mean to, but the smile on your face fades ever so slightly. They both notice and don’t say anything—one in contemplation and the other in disappointment. 

“You look awful.”

Okay, what the fuck. Between the thousand-yard stare you gave your wall this morning and the amount of time you spent slathering makeup on at the crack-ass of dawn, you would think that at least your eyebags were concealed enough.

But Annabeth Chase is nothing if not honest, and even if you were the best actress she’s ever met (which you are), there is no way of hiding heartbreak. 

Can you call this that? 

Heartbreak. 

You’re still unsure of if it’s really over—can you say that Luke broke your heart if there’s no way of being certain? What is a break, anyway? Are there terms and conditions you should follow? Is this the part where you two just never talk again and it’ll always feel like this?

But if the boy sitting across from you broke your heart, you think you’d be able to tell—so let the evidence show (or lack thereof) that you’re pretty sure he took it with him, wordlessly and selfishly like a son of Hermes would. With no remorse. 

Let’s not call this heartbreak then. Perhaps the more accurate word to describe your expression is despondence—he chips away at you further with how he looks at you now. Luke catches himself admiring the way you’ve done your hair and the glitter on your eyelids and then honey meets amethyst as your eyes lock. In between an obvious sigh and the way you bite your tongue, he realizes that despite your beauty always rivaling that of Aphrodite (at least in his honest opinion), there’s something hollow in the way you look back at him this morning. He doesn’t know how to feel about that either. 

You both didn’t end off on a good note yesterday—and that much, plus the rare occasion of sleeping alone in the months you two have been together was disconcerting, to say the least. 

“Thanks for that. If that’s all, I’m gonna go back to my seat,” you deadpan, turning back towards the front of the bus. 

You can’t even look at him, you realize. In the almost five years you’ve known Luke Castellan, your favorite thing to do was just look at him, from the way his nose scrunches when he laughs, to the fluttering of his eyelashes when he gets tired, because one of the easiest parts of loving him was by just watching him to see if he was looking right back at you.

And you can’t even do that, because it comes with a whole bunch of feelings you have no time to unpack right now. You decide to focus on the scar that spreads across his cheek instead when Luke calls your attention back towards them. He says your name so softly you almost miss it, gentle, like how someone talks to a child. It’s infuriating.

“I thought you were driving the bus today?” 

Somehow a simple interaction like this feels like the hardest performance of your life. Breakups never came easy, but dear gods, why right before the winter solstice of all days— you mumble a reply so quietly even Annabeth leans a bit closer to hear, “Didn’t sleep well. Big day today.” You brace against the seatback in front of them, tightening your core as the bus whips around a bend.

“Thought it’d be safer if I got one of the satyrs. Had to promise him unlimited access to the kitchens for a month though.”

Almost slamming into a full stop, your eyes widen as your body hits leather, properly leaning over the both of them as the daughter of Athena holds onto your leg and one of Luke’s hands grabs your arm.

“Gods. Look how that’s going,” the younger girl jokes, before looking up again to see her brother and you staring at each other motionlessly. Everything goes quiet—you don’t hear screaming campers or see Clarisse shaking one of her younger siblings upside down for a candy bar. Your knees shake slightly under the weight you figuratively carry on your shoulders. How will you show face to the gods when you can’t even keep a smile steady?

Time stops for a moment, and if it’s only been 12 hours, you’ve already lost count— but its felt like a lifetime since he held you like he might still care. It’s hard to tell, the both of you are too stubborn and it reminds you of a time when all of your conversations went like this—vitriol and annoyance leaking from each word, but at least when you were fourteen it felt like the build up to something great.

But what happens after great is exhausted? The comedown is a terse conversation that almost flies over Annabeth’s head—said in a way that adults do when everything is veiled and heavy, not meant to be seen by prying eyes and younger hearts. 

“I didn’t mean for it to turn out this way,” Luke mutters from beside her. You retract your arm like you’ve been burned and shake your head, “Well, it did.”

The wise girl starts to put the dots together, face scrunching as she deciphers the hidden meaning behind your exchange. She should’ve known Luke didn’t actually want to sit with her and talk about her latest chess match—the son of Hermes loves a good game but has no interest if he’s not the one winning. They both watch you rush back to your seat, the swaying of the bus pushing you farther and faster until you fall away out of sight. 

When she gathers her thoughts, the words lay heavy on her tongue like a hot iron until she spits it out at her older brother. Annabeth Chase sparingly cusses, you see, mostly under her breath and really only when she’s stumped by a situation, especially since she’s only just turned eleven a few months ago—but she looks at him like a foreign object she doesn’t know how to dissect.

“You’ve got nerve, Luke. How do you always fuck up this bad?” Her dark braids drag over her shoulder as she turns to look the other way, away from him.

Luke swallows dryly, biting down on the flesh of his cheek. Between his plan for today and his impeccable timing of monumentally screwing up his relationship with you? 

It’s like Annabeth hit the nail on the head, and he couldn’t agree more.

—

“Alright, places everyone,” you drone, tapping your pen against your clipboard like a gavel before a session in court. The Hall of Gods is just as unruly as your campers when you don’t water down the juice boxes, you realize—Olympians are mulling about the throne room, chattering and making it known that they’d rather be doing who knows what on the only day of the year that it’s mandatory for them to be parents. You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose as you silently agree—there are much better uses of your time that you can think of right now, like making sure to hand Michael his epi-pen before lunch and hoping Connor and Travis aren’t scamming every seller blind at the street-markets of Olympus.

Everyone else is enjoying their free time and you’re…here, watching Apollo, god of music and truth, annoy his twin by sending birds to fly circles around her head. 

Cacophonous laughter startles you, turning to see Hades watching the chaos with his arms crossed over his chest. Draped in black, his chill expression looms over the papers in your hand as he peers at the schedule.

“Siblings, am I right? Sorry you have to deal with mine.”

“Divine Hades,” you bow your head slightly, “they’re erecting your pedestal for the solstice as we speak, I apologize in behalf of—”

He waves a hand dismissively, “No need, child. I know you’re just doing your job. I can wait.”

“Well, I can’t if they’re all acting like children,” you mutter, the both of you watching Zeus bicker with Hera with increasing volume before she storms out, not before addressing the god of the Underworld with a nod.

And he smirks, letting out another laugh that the sound of it quiets the Olympians and sends them towards their seats like obedient students in a classroom. The nymphs are finished pushing the newly-fashioned slab of a throne into position, twelve turning into thirteen and Hades makes his way over as well, gesturing back at you, “Remind me of your name again?”

You say it calmly, clicking your pen. Your dad is sprawled out on his throne, legs over the side as he stares at the ceiling, “Alright princess—let’s get this show on the road.”

“Will we be waiting for…” your voice trails off, briefly looking towards the door.

“Nonsense. I’m sure you can brief her afterwards,” Zeus booms, and you swallow. There goes your lunch break.

“Of course. And Hermes?” You ask, eyes flickering to the only empty seat.

“Working.”

Clearing your throat, you stand tall to address the deities in the room and though you can’t look any of them in the eye, (besides your father that’s already guzzling his fourth cup of ambrosia at eleven in the morning) it does not deter you from what you came here to accomplish. Might as well do the job well if there’s nothing else to look forward to for today.

You go over the schedule of events like an automated system, not stopping even when Ares starts sighing at the end of your sentences and Demeter sends daggers toward Hades with her eyes. It’s enough to wonder why those without children present today even stay. Formalities, you presume.

“Any questions? Good, I’ll see you all in here at four o’clock,” you quickly say, not giving them a chance to interject—spinning on your heel to walk out of there with even a shrivel left of your patience. 

You find yourself running through your list again by the time you reach the end of the hall: you need to grab the tapestry that cabin 6 wove for their mother’s shrine from the bus, Lee needs help bringing in the harp after lunch, and your brothers need enough wine glasses to fill with water for their performance since they haven’t mastered the conjuring trick so well yet.

Her presence imposes itself upon you before you spot her perched next to the windowsill—the queen of the gods is not meant to be a decorative wallflower, after all. 

“D-divine Hera,” you stutter and stop short, “Would you have a moment to go over the schedule?”

“I know the schedule, child. I’ve been here longer than you. What is it, your fourth year running this thing?” She’s expressionless, maybe even a bit bored with the topic as she looks down at you. You stare at the peacock feather shawl that hangs off her shoulders.

“Third, ma’am.”

Hera smiles (or at least it sounds like she is, talking to her has always felt like twirling on a minefield), “It doesn’t surprise me that all of this falls on a woman. Where’s your husband?”

“My what?” 

You don’t mean to, but your knee-jerk reaction is to look her in the eye and the both of you are surprised by that. Hera’s perfectly arched brows are sky high now, but you haven’t been incinerated yet, so you can deduce that she might like you (or is still contemplating the matter), “The one with the pretty face, such a shame about that scar. You two were inseparable last year, I just assumed…”

With a face on fire, you clear your throat, “Oh. Luke and I aren’t…” Your eyes press closed, hot-red embarrassment brimming into tears you don’t expect to surface. Another reminder that he’s not your…anything right now.

“Mm,” she hums thoughtfully, “Sometimes I forget what year it is. Human societal norms and all that.”

A soft wind billows through the open air, and you hug the clipboard to your chest. You are not about to trauma dump on Hera. Though in a way, she might understand you more than you think.

“I sent him away, I guess. Sometimes it’s much easier to do things alone,” but even you don’t sound convinced. The side of Hera’s lip quirk upwards and she looks at you knowingly, “I agree. Though I guess there are worse things in life than sharing the hard parts with someone you love.” 

Looking down at your shoes, you’re not sure of what else to say. It reminds Hera of her and her husband, before time complicated everything. In the early years, every obstacle feels world-ending until it passes and all you can do is laugh with the person who was by your side. 

“I don’t have to be there later, don’t I?” the queen of the gods mutters. You shrug. Your opinion doesn’t matter, clearly, because she continues, “I don’t have any children in the show that are performing but…I want to be there.”

“I get that,” you say awkwardly, shaking your head to not fumble this conversation further, but she smiles, patting your shoulder as she walks past—it almost feels like a blessing. 

Or maybe she wasn’t even listening to you at all. 

She stops at the end of the hall.

“Trust is a fickle thing, child. It has more value once it’s been broken, and rebuilding it takes two sets of hands. Catch and fall, push and pull, go and follow.” Hera looks back at you again, her white dress swishing at her hips, “Do you agree?”

“I guess.” 

The queen of the gods looks at you thoughtfully, a girl humbly offering her heart out to her divine presence and wanting her partner, a son of Hermes at that— over any glory Olympus can provide. 

Oh, to be young and in love—it makes one invincible.

“Then I hope he makes it worth your while.”

She leaves you to your thoughts and they echo to meet her like a bittersweet greeting. Hera smiles, seeing them run through your head like a video on loop—replacing bloodied bandages in a dark train car, glitter and giggles in a locked room, burnt chocolate chip cookies, and face masks in the dim light of a bathroom. 

The ritual of marriage has definitely changed over the millennia the goddess has lived through, but what you and Luke share is what she considers to be its truest form—that of two souls choosing one another over and over.

—

There’s not a lot of things that can make the herald of Olympus stop in his tracks. He holds as many titles as the letters that fly through his fingertips—though Hermes delivers mail with gratifying ease. The job has always been second nature; being a father…not so much.

But all the power in the world cannot compensate for the fact that you cannot save your children from themselves.

So when he sees you leaning against one of the ornate marble doors outside the Hall of Gods that afternoon, he wills himself to join you in real time. Infinite versions of himself scatter across the Earth with every second that passes. But you look familiar, and well, the trickster loves solving a good puzzle.

“I know you,” he says matter of factly, yet he can’t put his finger on it. His voice is deep, like a howling wind; it blows your hair back even when he stands still in front of you. Your gaze lifts from your clipboard to travel across his face briefly, but you don’t look him in the eye. You can’t even if you wanted to—incineration by divine form and all, so you weren’t about to test your luck with him. Tempting though—you’ve heard enough about Luke’s father to want to burn holes through the god’s head like he could yours.

“Shouldn’t you be inside with the other campers for the rest of the show?” Hermes prompts again, despite your silence. He is the god of communication after all. But there’s not a single thing you could think of telling him besides, “Shouldn’t you? Your kids have been waiting all year to see you.” Mortal lifetimes pass in the blink of an immortal’s eye—but he can’t spare a few minutes to see his kids? Hermes shrugs, like it’s nothing of the sort. Nothing he can do about it. Olympus takes priority. 

“The work never stops. You would know that.”

There’s a startling shriek that escapes from the seam of the doorway as little Will Solace shuffles through the doorway shyly. He tugs at your sleeve, keeping his head bowed and mumbles your name, “Where’s the bathroom?” The god replies to the kid instead, looking at the tiny fractals of light that reflect off the boy’s hair, “Uhhh…down the stairs and to the left, fourth door.”

“Need me to go with you buddy?”

He squeezes your hand and shakes his head, undeterred by the fact he interrupted your conversation with an Olympian, instead going to hop down the stairs without looking at either of you, “Miranda tried to sing again. She should really just stick to plants.” 

Perhaps the presence of gods isn't as impressive to a mortal when their godrent regularly visits them.

“So why exactly did you want to speak with me?”

You cross your arms and lean against the cool wall and wonder why Luke’s dad is still in front of you. After all, he has to have better things to do than make conversation with a moping girl with a workload stacked to the heavens.

Hermes repeats your name slowly as if he’s memorizing the way it sounds coming off his lips, “You look a little lost. So much so that it made me take a moment here with you.”

“I’m right where I need to be unfortunately, so…thanks but no thanks.” He’s the god of many domains—finding lost things being one of them, good luck being another, among the others. He can feel—actually, he knows that you’re searching for something even if you yourself don’t know what it is. The force that summons him to you feels thick, like quicksand that pulls him in planting his winged feet to the ground. Hermes observes your standoffish attitude and wonders if he’s offended you somehow. 

Pushing down the yearning you feel for his son who sits inside the marble doors, you wonder if it would’ve hurt less had Hermes not made your want known to you, an ugly, embarrassing thing that feels like a lump in your throat. His caduceus vibrates loudly in his pocket and with a sleight of hand it appears in front of him, clacking buttons. It’s annoying to be treated like an inconvenience, especially in a time of need. Like father, like son, you suppose.

But unfortunately he’s right. You’re a lost little thing, mind scrambled from this hellish week and where you left off with Luke. You want him with you in all senses of the term, both right now as you glare at his father and in the way one breathes air through their lungs—autonomic, because you simply can't help it. Hermes looks at you again, scratching at his ear as if everything about standing in front of you is making his ears ring, “Who do you belong to again?” He’s trying to remember where he’s seen you before. The sound of trumpets pierce your ears when the door opens again, this time Castor catching his breath as he calls your name, “Hey. Where’s the little pipsqueak? 7’s going on soon.” Everyone seems to know you except him. 

How intriguing.

Rolling your eyes, you grumble, “Bathroom. Go back inside Cas.”

“See that’s the problem, Luke asked me where you are, should I tell him you’re…” The blond looks at who you’re speaking to and swallows, “busy?”

“That’s it. You’re Luke’s girl—” the frown that deepens on your face makes him pause, “I thought your name was Trouble?” The god looks even more confused, scratching his goatee—his son, through his nightly devotions, has asked for a lot of things from him in his short lifetime. The realization comes to the forefront of Hermes’ mind like a thumbtack pierced through a map as you respond. 

“Sometimes.”

In the past year, Luke’s narrowed it down to two things: to guide him onto the right path in life and to make sure you live well enough to be on it with him. That’s what was sacred to him—but Hermes could only see himself fulfilling one of them, if we’re being honest here: an unfortunate trick of the trade.

You grimace—maybe being in there and facing Luke would be better than having this conversation with his deadbeat dad.

“Only with him,” Castor smirks, and you shove your brother towards the stairs to go find Will. 

“How did you know that, anyway?”

Hermes chuckles, looking you up and down as if seeing you clearly for the first time, “His thoughts are even louder than yours. Even though he probably has nothing nice to say about me, he thinks about you all the time, that son of mine.”

“And what do you do then? Let it fall on deaf ears?”

“Listen, I’m not allowed to meddle,” he murmurs, a twitching hand ghosting over your shoulder. He wonders if can offer comfort —you know Luke better than the idea he has of him in his head, the glimpses of his son’s life that he’s allowed himself to see. You’ve been there these past few years to live it with him. Hermes swallows, retracting his arm to put it back against his side. The door swings open again—and it’s your father this time, cradling a wine glass that fills with ambrosia when he swirls it in his grasp.

“Kid, what’s the holdup—where’s the little sunspot and Thing 2?” Mr. D raises his glass with a grin, clapping his best friend on the back— “Hermes, my friend. Making a pit stop?” 

This just got even weirder—your head starts to spin a bit. 

Talk about a nightmare blunt rotation.

Between their lighthearted banter, Will and Castor skipping up the stairs towards you, and Pollux popping his head out of the doorway to yank the glass out of your dad’s hand (“SISSY! He’s drinking my musical instrument!”), you shut your eyes to center yourself. This might be the worst day of your life. Chaos becomes you and your blood is boiling at being surrounded by too many men when the only one you care about won’t even lo—

“Kid, you okay?”

Breathing heavily, you don’t realize you’ve clenched your hands into tight fists, and your dad doesn't know what to do. There's a thought that passes his mind as swiftly as his friend can scale the world that Luke would know what to do. Mr. D doesn't mean to, but he scoffs under his breath, shaking hand extending to reach out to an equally trembling shoulder and you flinch before it makes contact. 

"M'fine, I just need a second to think."

Pressing your palms into the pits of your eyes, your father watches you inhale a breath that seems to calm the storm brewing in your core, even for a moment, “Cas, take Will inside for his cabin’s performance. D, next time, don’t touch things that aren’t yours,” you say calmly as you conjure another glass of water and hand it to Pollux, not before taking a few sips to steady your resolve and perfect the tone of the vibrations. 

Sip. 

Too sharp. 

Sip. 

Perfect.

Putting the now fully functional instrument of water in your brother’s hand, he happily walks back through the door and now you’re just left with two gods that look at you somewhat impressed. 

“Can I help you with anything else, or are you both just going to waste my time?” Tapping your foot, your face is expressionless again, any previous traces of emotion wiped clean.

“Princess, you know you could talk—”

“Nope,” you protest, “Nothing’s wrong at all. Just ready to get this day over with.” It’s rude and to the point, but you have no patience left, “ and all offense D, I’m not gonna talk about my boy problems with you, and especially not you,” you grit pointing at Hermes, “neither of you would get it and I don’t even fully get it, and partially you two are the reason why we’re like this!”

“What did Luke do?” your dad says incredulously, eyebrows furrowing. He’s sobering up from the buckets of ambrosia he’s consumed—itching to find out about what the golden boy could ever do to agitate you like this.

The gods will never know what it feels like to love someone like this—every fiber of your mortal being constantly anticipating an end without knowing when that is. You sigh helplessly, “I don’t even know where to begin.”

“I don’t know who I am without you, and he only knows who he is because of you,” spitting the words out like acid, you seethe, “we’re not exactly normal teenagers, you know, so thanks for that. I can handle it from here.”

And you push past the both of them and walk through the marble doors like nothing even happened.

"Makes sense he'd fall for her," Hermes mumbles, “your girl is a force to be reckoned with.” If not a bit insane like his best friend. 

"Yeah. Just remember I can tear your boy limb from limb. Just because she can handle it doesn't mean she should. Pray your kid fixes it or fucks off. " It’s the truth—poor Penthus was just an example of Dionysus’ contradictory behavior. Ruthless punishments were like a walk in the park for your father. A jilted noise escapes Hermes's throat as if his own truth was trying to claw its way up his esophagus. The future of humanity rests on the shoulders of his favorite son, and for once, the messenger god is still---in fear? Guilt?

His thoughts are still trying to catch up with the rest of his body, but as he watches the door shut softly behind you, his winged shoes start to flap to signal his imminent departure.

“He's a good boy. He knows the worth of being loved by the right person at the right time. If he’s anything like me, he’ll cherish it while it lasts,” Hermes smiles as he fades from view, “and if he’s not like me at all—he’ll make sure it’s forever. But it looks like we’ll be in-laws, bestie!”

Mr. D groans, waving him off and conjuring another glass of ambrosia—when he walks in to rejoin everyone for the show, his boys are killing it on the musical glasses. He surveys the crowd, watching Luke Castellan only have eyes for you even in this dark crowded room.

“Shit.”

—

Nights on Olympus are prettier than what you’re used to. The stars are much closer than they would be if you were still on Earth, and they act as a natural nightlamp hanging over the enchanted ceiling of the ballroom you and your kids occupy for your one night stay. Yawning into your fist, you spot Charlie Beckendorf who’s already fallen asleep directly on top of his sleeping bag, sweatshirt on backwards and tennis shoes still on. Offering to take the last thirty minutes of his shift after watching him nod off earlier against a marble column while doing everything in your power to try to fall asleep was a no-brainer. But now that you were actually wanting to stay awake yourself, your eyelids didn’t seem to want to cooperate. 

Figures. Nothing you ever wanted has ever happened the way you wished for.

Sleep pricks at the corner of your eyes like dust from a sandstorm—presumably Hypnos forcing a hand on you getting rest. Here on Olympus he’s only a few doors away, after all.You rub your knuckles into the sockets of your eyes quite unkindly, hoping it’ll do the job. Even blinking is taking an added effort.

Patting your own cheek lightly to stimulate your senses, you cross your arms and decide to take another lap around the room. The rubber of your boots clomp louder with every shaky step and—

Tap-tap. Tap. T-tap.

D is rapping his knuckles against one of the glass doors on the perimeter like he’s playing the drums.

“Shhhh!”

Arms outstretched, you slip past rows of sleeping children, narrowly missing stretched out arms and fallen backpacks as you glare at him, “Are you trying to wake up all of Olympus?”

He looks at you with amusement, rumpled clothing and looking like a tiny, angry raccoon. You must’ve forgotten to take off your eyeliner, but he doesn’t mention it.

He brandishes two cigarettes in his hand and nods toward a door he left ajar leading onto the sprawling, wrap-around patio. And you swear you start floating towards him like an enticed cartoon character—surely you’re dreaming. 

Is there even a designated smoking area on Olympus?

“How long have you known?” 

The words almost slur out of your mouth as you swipe at his fist like a man starved—Mr.D can’t tell what exactly you’re asking. He’s known you’ve smoked since he found ash in the windowsill of his office. He’d known you and Luke have been having problems since you both started to sit at the opposite sides of the room during counselor meetings. Some things about you are harder to catch onto than others, and Mr. D is known for always being a little late to the party.

Dionysus, the god, was a late arrival to the Pantheon. Him as a father, he’s often late to discerning the happenings in his daughter’s life.  But he’s also known that boy has loved you long before he drunkenly stumbled onto his porch. Could smell it off of him— love makes people do crazy things after all. Out of all of your partners, he always thought the golden boy was just as bad—if not worse than you, gods willing. But you two were good kids, and the thought makes him chuckle, “I’ve always been able to read you, kiddo. I get there eventually.”

“Besides when I first showed up at your doorstep.”

“Shock of my life, actually. And that says a lot. You should be honored,” there’s a stupid smile on your father’s face now as he looks out onto the darkened horizon, glittering city lights on the floating mountain top. Olympus has changed in the years he’s been gone from it without him noticing. He looks over to you and realizes you have too—no longer fourteen with your hair sticky from Kool-aid, or multiple sun-tan tattoos. You always liked making a project out of your boredom.

Laughing gruffly—the base of your throat itches and you surface for air sounding like something being strangled. Blame it on the lack of sleep or teenage angst as he so aptly calls your temper tantrums, but he pulls you in to rub your back, leading you further down the walkway with a shushing, soothing coo as you whine, “What if this is the best I can be?”

“You’re nineteen, princess. A hell of a long way to go. To be honest, it gets worse as the years pass.”

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuck,” you groan, smacking your head against the cool marble. “That's like a blink for you. For me it feels like I’m constantly getting off on the wrong foot. How do you do it?”

He sighs and looks at you—and all of a sudden you see your father’s age in the way he grimaces. Left to do the dirty work, the things the gods don’t want to talk about, meant to endure because every ion of his existence has reeked of resilience. 

Because it’s what’s expected of him. 

You see the resemblance now.

His wrinkles are prominent and eyebags are heavy when he doesn’t fortify the image of a silly asinine man as he lets it all melt away in front of you.

You light a cigarette and puff life into the lit end to burn the other one, breathing out and handing it over. Smoke billows around the two of you as you lean against the marble railing—-but nothing has ever been so clear. It rolls through your lungs, warming you inside and out. You lean your head against his shoulder.

“I think you could shake this whole place up if you wanted to. Never met a more stubborn kid in my life,” your dad mutters, jostling when you elbow him, “I mean it. For a lack of better words, you’re a once in a lifetime kind of girl.” He’s not looking at you, but the sentiment wavers in the air and settles slowly until you learn to appreciate it. 

“You mean that?”

D has had a share of his own struggles, from being ejected from his mother and birthed from Zeus’ thigh, to being curb stomped by Hera herself, and of course the occasional trip to the Underworld. Suddenly your life pales in comparison. 

“Get that look off your face and stop thinking so badly of yourself. Life is not a dress rehearsal—just give it your best. I'll be in the wings for as long as you need me,” he swallows, “If you want that. I’m the only one dealing with this prison sentence, anyway.”

“I would like that.”

The god scratches his neck before dragging his Birkenstocks toward the door, swiveling to point at you, “Get to bed. You've got an early morning tomorrow.”

“I know. Is that an order?” 

“Yeah, twerp,” he mutters, lingering by the glass, “Quitting cold turkey is never fun. Things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end. I've always been more of the type to go and get it myself though.”

“Cold turkey,” you repeat, nodding distantly. 

Letting go means to accept that you let it in. And if you’re not ready to let it go, fight for it. 

For a bunch of wordweavers, you both suck at talking to each other. It must be an Olympus thing to talk in riddles, but you’ve never been deterred by a challenge. Your fragmented conversation means a lot more than he’ll ever know. With a newfound appreciation for your dad, you smile and take a few puffs of the cigarette, taking a seat against the wall to let everything sink in. The comfortable weight of nicotine in your lungs lulls you to sleep, a momentary reprieve from everything. 

You swear you shut your eyes for just a second. Just a moment—to rest them a tiny bit.

And Luke slips out the glass doors in the other direction towards the throne room without you noticing.

When you wake up, it’ll all be over.

—

It’s snowing by the time Luke comes back. Biggest day of his life—something he’s been waiting for for months now, and it was just too goddamn easy.

And yeah, Luke understood that it is so irrevocably wrong to steal from the gods. 

But then why was it so easy?

Of course, it was all thanks to you. You don’t know it, but you helped the pieces fall into their perfect places. Keeping you up last night with the fight and leaving you to your own devices all day kept you indifferent enough about him to not notice the smaller details—him switching the night shift schedule around to his liking and making you the only obstacle between him and the Master Bolt and the Helm of Darkness (well, Ares was too, but onto more important things).

Everything happens for a reason, right? 

Getting on your last nerve has always been easy, and though he hates seeing you cry—it almost makes him feel guilty that there’s a certain thrill that soars through him when you two fight. You love him like how you argue, with an unbridled passion he loves to sink his teeth into.

And he loves you. It’s as simple and as complicated as that. So despite the tear in his side that makes him clench his teeth, his first objective after his completed mission is to sidle over to your slumped form with a smile. Luke slings his jacket over your body and wraps his arm to bring your head against his shoulder. The grounds are weather-protected like at camp, yet a few stray snowflakes still catch onto your hair. You stir, “Lu?”

“I’m here. Not leaving you.”

If salvation could manifest itself into something akin to human form, perhaps it would still look like a god. Being saved is a feeling unfamiliar to Luke—the only person he was always sure could save your ass was himself.  But he wants this, you nestled against him for as long as you want, until his arms ache and pins and needles ravage his body. Luke knows he would crawl to the ends of this earth and the next if it means he’ll be with you. 

Gambling with fate will be worth it if he can find a way to make this love last forever. 

This has to work. You did what you had to do, he thinks.

Sniffing, he kisses your forehead and his jacket faintly smells of smoke. Snowflakes dot his eyelashes and he rubs your arms to make sure you’re warm, “Let you sleep longer. Looks like you needed it.”

“How long have I been asleep?” you say groggily. His thumbs wipe at your eyelids gently with the hem of a fresh shirt, “Don’t worry. I took care of everything.”

It makes him grimace, emotional manipulation and a quick escape—hello Hermes!

“I’m tired, Luke.”

He sighs, and you turn to him, the both of you knee to knee, slowly being illuminated by a blanket of cool toned hues from the rising sun, “I know. Let me make it better, baby.”

Wistfully, you tangle your fingers with his in the space between you as if sealing a vow. 

”Every future I envision includes you with me. I need you to know that.” 

Overwhelmed by the events of the night, hell, these past few months—Luke starts to cry. A single rivulet cascading on the cheek adjacent to his scar and you catch it by pressing your lips to his jaw.

“Could you still love me?”

Inching closer, he feels as if you’re not close enough even when you’re breathing against the nape of his neck like this and you mumble, “You’re saying that like I ever stopped, angel.” The line blurs with each breath he takes—to earn a spot to walk amongst the gods, to live a completely ordinary life, or to be stuck in the strawberry fields of Delphini Farms forever. Luke was never awarded the privilege to want for himself before he met you, the absolution to all his wrongdoings. He can feel the quaking of your jaw under his fingertips as he slowly turns you to face him and all you have left to give him is a shattered breath.

“No matter what?”

Pressing his lips to yours as an apology feels like being saved. Lightly, until he pours himself into it and you relent, until the only thing that matters to you is that he’s with you now. Luke would merge your souls right now if he could—a tangled mess of eight limbs and head to head and everything is as it should be.

“Even if you don’t sit with me on the bus,” you smirk. He scoffs, kissing you harder and locking his lips with yours feverishly before resting much gentler ones against your tired eyes, “Oh don’t worry. Can’t get rid of me that easily, Trouble.”

A new day breaks on the horizon the longer you stay out there. But he takes these last final moments and keeps them under lock and key for safekeeping. You leave Olympus in a few hours, and by then there’ll be no time for regrets—his perfect crime with his perfect partner.

—

"I weep because you cannot save people. You can only love them." -Hanya Yanagihara

[kmt123whatsthetea]

A sweet angel and her corrupting devils

Fred Weasley x reader x George Weasley

Requested by: @flowerhetal

Request: ��The twins with an inexperienced reader”

A/N: Thank you for the request! I hope you all had a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. I'm finally back and writing. Also, I really went on a tangent for this one, I’m very sorry. And I had to rewrite most of the book because I wanted it to be a BFB as Ginny's bestie, but by TOOTP Ginny is 14 and the twins are 17-18, and I knew someone would pick it up and yikes. So say hello to Ron's new bestie, who is legal. I’m gonna be honest, this one was difficult to write and I didnt like how slow it was because I was just pushing to get it uploaded after so long. I really don't feel like this is even in my top 10. Also, for some reason, the tag wouldn’t work so I’m working on that

T/W: Virgin reader, Twins kinda baby reader, Umbridge causing pain, Fingering, Praise

The Twins were such sweethearts.

Despite their joking nature, they treated you like a glass statue. Even when they picked you up, they handled you with care.

Fred and George were 3 years older than you. Being Ron’s best friend meant that, at first, the twins saw you as an annoying little sister, just without the trademark hair and freckles. But then the attraction became increasingly obvious. Fred and George would pay more attention to you and always wanted to sit beside you when you stayed for a sleepover. After a brief conversation between the two, they had realised that you had become another shared trait for the twins.

It was only fair that they agreed to share your attention.

As the years passed and you all got older, that attraction never faded. The twins flocked to you. Whenever a new prank was ready, you would never be a target. But they’d make sure that you were there to bear witness since they loved the sound of your laughter.

You started going to them more often, telling them about your day and listening to theirs. They never let anyone mess with you, saying that anyone who did would become the next target for their best prank yet. However, you didn't think that threat would extend to staff members.

When Delores Umbridge walked through the doors of Hogwarts School, she didn’t plan to let you all go about your regular business. She had a plan, which involved corporal punishment. They had found you buried under a pile of duvets in your room, missing both lunch and dinner. When they first stepped into your room, they didn’t think you were even there until they heard soft whimpers coming from the blanket pile.

Pulling back a few layers revealed your shaking form. Eyes red and puffy from hours of crying and arm red raw from both Umbridge’s quill and the insatiable urge to itch that comes with any scar. The mantra on your arm read ‘I shall pay more attention in class instead of daydreaming’.

Even when you tried to hide away and burrow back into the safety of the blankets, George cradled your face in his hands.

“Sweet girl, it’s okay. She got you too, did she? Why don't you come out and let me and Freddie look after you”

The effect they had on you was pure magic. They could talk you into anything with their soft voices. You slowly emerged, clinging to George like a baby koala while Fred took the chance to examine your arm. He cooed softly as he pressed a kiss to your palm.

“Baby, you’ve been touching it haven’t you? You know you’re not meant to scratch your scars”

All Hogwarts rooms had a first aid box. Nothing too fancy, just a few bandages and elixirs for those first years who couldn't wait to duel. Although Fred could have used a spell to soothe your wound, a simple bandage had that closeness and cozy feel to it. There's something romantically tragic about bandaging your lover's wounds.

His fingers applied the elixir like a massaging oil before carefully applying the bandage. All the while, your face stayed tucked into George's neck. George splayed his fingers across your back, his lips brushing along your ear.

“We just want to take care of you. That’s all we’ve ever wanted, sweet girl”

Fred set aside the bottle and sat on the bed, his hands finding your hips. He slowly pulled you from George's lap and onto his own, his chest against your back while his hands encircled your middle. You didn't mind when his hands drifted to your abdomen, they always made you feel so safe.

“I bet no other boy has ever taken care of you, have they?”

George cooed while his own hands stroked your thighs, slowly getting higher. When you shook your head, he moved forward to part your thighs and nestle between them, causing your skirt to ride up. Fred pulled your skirt up slowly, letting you object if you wanted to.

“We know how to take care of pretty babies like you. You just have to trust Georgie and I. You can do that, can’t you?”

They already knew that you were putty in their hands, but your meek approval made it so much better. George slowly pulled your panties down and put them in his pocket before he spread your legs more. Just a glance at you told him all he needed to know. You really were a virgin. He shot Fred a glance before both boys just stared at you. Fred pressed a kiss to your ear.

“Are you sure you want this, baby? To give yourself to us like this? We can’t go back afterwards”

Your meek voice filled their ears despite how quiet you were.

“I want you both. Please? Please make the pain go away”

George leaned forwards and kissed your lips, his hand trailing down to stroke your clit. He revelled in the surprised whimper that seemed to escape you. While his thumb rubbed slow circles over your button, his fingers glided down to tease your pussy. George gathered your slick and slowly pushed his finger inside. You were tight. Too tight.

“Baby, do you ever…play with yourself?”

You looked up at Fred first before looking at George, your cheeks pink.

“No, is that wrong?”

Oh, you were sweet.

Fred pressed a kiss to your temple while George's lips kissed the tip of your nose. They wanted to teach you everything. Every kissing technique, every position, every special toy. You would be their eager little student, desperate for kisses and praise. They wondered if you got wet just from being called their good girl.

“It's not wrong at all, sweetie. It just means that Georgie and I get to spend more time with you. Practice makes perfect, right?”

George's finger slid back inside of you, keeping a slow pace to let you adjust. Fred's hand toyed with your breasts, his thumb brushing over your nipples while his other hand rested across your middle to keep you still when you squirmed. Every moan filled their ears as if you were their own private singer. Pure music. George could feel how much of your juices was coating his fingers, you were wet enough for more. His second finger joined the first, your walls practically suffocating them. His fingers angled up and pushed deeper.

A loud moan left your lips, your walls clamping down on George's fingers. Your body squirmed in Freds grip. His hand left your nipples to cover your mouth. God forbid anyone heard and interrupted them. George kept his thumb on your throbbing clit, adding pressure to keep you spaced out.

When your moans slowly subsided, George slowly pulled his fingers out of you and brought them up to his lips. Fred kept you in a tight grip, his hand leaving your mouth to stroke your cheek softly. Your body trembled between them, eyes still closed and chest heaving for oxygen.

“You did such a great job, baby. Such a sweet girl. I bet Georgie’s fingers felt so good”

They waited a while before deciding to clean you up, wanting to take in the pretty sight for a while longer.

They liked how pretty their girl looked for them.

[fear-is-truth]

Hello Bestie (she says at the ass crack of dawn)

I feel like bcs he’s such the epitome of a gentleman, nobody likes to talk ab Kit Walker gettin freaky…man totally has a breeding kink tho hehe

mature content; MDNI 18+

ohhh yes let’s talk about KIT WALKER’s breeding kink.

he is the blueprint for a sweet, hardworking, all-anerican husband with just enough of a rough edge to keep things interesting. he’s got that strong protective streak, always putting his family first, and the way he treats women? gentleman to the core.

but yeah… man definitely has a breeding kink—he’s got two kids before you even enter the picture, and if you think he’s stopping there, you’re dead wrong. kit adores the idea of a big family, a home filled with laughter and little feet running around. and the idea of you carrying his baby? drives him crazy.

making sure you’re full of him—he’ll hold your hips down, thrusting deep and slow, dragging it out so you feel every inch, whispering against your lips, “that’s it, suga’... attagirl.” and when he finally spills inside you? he doesn’t pull out right away. ohhh no. he stays there, grinding lazily, making sure you take all of him.

one hands sliding over your stomach, the other gripping your thigh to keep you spread open for him. if you try to move too soon? he’s pinning you down with that lazy smirk. and don’t even think about trying to roll over or push him off—you know he’s got those strong arms wrapping around you, keeping you in place, murmuring, “stay still, lemme just—yeah, there we go—wanna make sure it takes.” his voice all soft but his hold anything but.

and god help you if you so much as whimper about being too full—because that just makes him groan, pressing deeper like he needs you to feel every last drop. “yeah? feels good, don’t it? s’cause you were made for me, angel.”

kit walker isn’t just fucking you—he won’t rest until you’re stuffed to the brim with him.

[somereaderinblue]

Jaw dropped at the guard saying that he hopes Tele grows as pretty as Ody like bestie (@ guard) what do you mean by this. What possessed you to tell that to the kid's parent. Why. Now I kind of need that scene ngl Odysseus deserves to have some catharsis and break a nose

Ykw? You guys deserve a treat. CW: blood & injuries

The moment those wretched words left the man's mouth, he may as well have handed Odysseus an obol to shove past his teeth.

Faster than a lunging viper, Odysseus unsheathed the xiphos from the guard's hip. The man had barely registered the theft of his own weapon before it swung in a well-practiced arc, slicing through flesh.

What was meant to be a scream turned into a wet gurgle lost amongst the blood spilling past his maw. Meaty hands instinctively shot to the gash at his neck, futilely trying to stem the waterfall of precious liquid life. He stumbled backwards, desperate to get away from the prey turned predator, desperate to find someone, anyone who could help him, save him, get him away from this wild animal-

He made it three more steps before Odysseus slammed the pommel of his xiphos against his temple, the concussive impact hard enough to be felt through his helmet.

Paris' prize was gone before his body hit the ground.

_________________________

Apollo himself must have taken mercy on him, the healers said. Had the cut been even slightly deeper, he would be one of Charon's passengers right now. Unfortunately, he would never be able to talk beyond pitiful wheezes and moans ever again.

Panicking, he'd frantically gestured towards the little king with bloodshot eyes. There! He was the culprit, him! He knew Paris to be a foolish prince, but he didn't think him a fearless one. How could he bear to stand anywhere close to that beast, much less bed him?!

"The only reason you're alive is because Odysseus found your body, you ungrateful dog!" Paris hissed, arms wrapped possessively protectively around his demure lover.

"His handmaiden confirmed that he was with his son in the nursery prior to finding you." Hector added.

His jaw dropped. 'Lies!' he coughed. 'Traitors!' that old hag was clearly conspiring with the whore!

"Control yourself!" Hector barked. "Have you no shame after allowing yourself to be ambushed and nearly slain, by your own blade no less?"

What could only be described as a whine tumbled past his lips. He had no voice; worse, he had no ears who'd listen. He would not be demoted, in fact he'd be lucky if he's kept in the palace as a stable hand. What use was a soldier who couldn't communicate?

At some point, the princes left him to wallow in shame and the healers similarly tended to other patients. That night, he tossed and turned uneasily as Hypnos eluded him, only to hear something rustling beside him.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and his throat spasmed painfully around a silent scream as a wolf loomed over him, eyes practically glowing red in the darkness.

The scant moonlight from a nearby window reflected off a smile full of teeth as Odysseus slowly, tauntingly pressed a finger over his lips. Sweaty palms shook and his fingers twitched while his muscles demanded him to run when he could barely even breathe.

"2 days." Odysseus' whispered words drove into his skull like nails. "2 days from now, I will gouge out your eyes."

The promise was spoken with the same certainty as one commenting there would be rainfall once storm clouds were spotted on the horizon.

"Nuh-!" 'No.' his wide eyes pleaded. 'No, please, mercy!'

Odysseus' grin widened and his stomach twisted as he realized that no amount of squealing spares a pig from slaughter.

"2 days." the wolf repeated before disappearing into the darkness.

_________________________

The next day, a guard ran out of the barracks, speed unfaltering even as he dropped some of his hastily packed possessions in his panicked dash.

He ran and never looked back.

[ohmygoly]

Aww I remember all of these pieces! I missed self care day, oops, but glad to see this late rather than never. My favorite is either Maruca (you drew her so well) or the cute one where they're all together and they all have blue in their hair cause that's also such a cute concept. Tam quietly laughing in the background heheege. But truly, Stina would value her friends more than almost anything in the world and thta should be acknowledged more! (Fitz and Tam being honorary horse girl members is so real and definitely canon, don't question it lol)

Today is the very last day of the Stina Ship week and we're ending it off with a plain and simple Stina self love/care day

(we dont talk about how I missed Stiana day I swear I'll get that fic out eventually)

Stina's version of a self care day would probably include much of her regular routine, doing the chores and work she knows she's gotta do first before she can fully enjoy her day carefree but if the Horse Girls have anything to say about that she's screwed They'll take her normal average, somewhat simple life and flip it on a dime for fun. Worst part is she's more committed to the bit than she is her hypothetical anger management therapist they all agreed they'd save up and get for her. Never mind the fact that Tam should be the one to get a therapist, noooo, apparently her issues top getting kidnapped

if she had to pick something to do (not a chore or work) for a day where she could choose to do anything in the world she'd spend that day with her girls (yes Tam and Fitz are included in the girl part, they're honorary girls)

They're HER idiots and she worked hard to befriend them.

[fabbyf1]

Hi Besties! 

I know I sort of just... disappeared, and I’m very sorry for worrying you.

To everyone who sent me an ask or dm checking on me: I really appreciate you. I'm not going to publish them, because I don’t think you sent them to me so that I would publish them, but thank you so much for caring about me and taking the time to send me a note of love and support. 

It means a lot to me to know that so many of you think about me and notice when I'm not around. I think we can all agree that that’s a really nice feeling. It says a lot about who you are as people and confirms the fact that we have built such a lovely little corner of the internet together. I'm a firm believer in the fact tumblr, and any other fan space or social media website, should always bring joy and positivity to your life. And if it's not, you should do something else. 

Nobody is getting paid to be here. We all choose to spend our free time here to relax, and unwind, and share a laugh with other people who share our weird little interests. I'm so grateful that my blog, and everyone who follows and interacts with me, has always kept it a light-hearted, supportive place. I know a lot of other big blogs can’t say the same thing, and they are constantly receiving hate and rude people in their inboxes. So thank you for helping me keep this a safe space where we can giggle and gossip and support each other.

Let’s address the elephant in the room. 

I disappeared from the internet for a lot of reasons, but mostly because... I am feeling very guilty and overwhelmed about my lack of writing. It's easier for me to disappear and avoid it altogether than to feel like I’m disappointing anyone. 

But let me be clear: these feelings are totally and 100% my own. Nobody is making me feel this way. Nobody is sending me anon hate, or demanding updates, or telling me that I've let them down. This is an expectation and standard I have put on myself, and I feel like I am failing myself when it comes to writing.

And that’s just something I have to deal with. 

Writing fanfiction has been a major part of my life since I was 12 years old (albeit, very bad fanfiction at 12 years old.) It’s a hobby that I will never move on from. And honestly, the older I get, the more I fall in love with it. I think fanfiction gets a lot of hate from people who don’t understand it or have never read it, but fanfiction is an important part of fan culture and brings so many people together. 

Some of the most powerful, impacting, and lasting words I’ve ever read were all from fanfiction. The words that haunt me, or that I think about over and over again are all from fanfiction. And I think that’s why I put so much pressure on myself when it comes to writing. 

I don’t want to publish something that is not my best work. I don’t want to update something just to update it; I want it to be exactly the way I envisioned it, if not better. I want it to mean something to you. I want you to love it, or laugh at it, or cry to it, or whatever that fic or that chapter is supposed to bring out of you. 

I haven’t opened my google docs for more than 5 minutes in... months. 

Just thinking about it overwhelms me because I feel like I’ve backed myself into a corner that I don’t want to be in. It’s silly and not as dramatic as I’m making it seem, but I wish I could go back and delete a few paragraphs at the end of the last chapter of the mastermind fic, so that the next chapter could be something... different. 

And I know that I technically could do that, but that doesn’t seem right either, because it would be confusing to everyone who is current with the fic and especially those who have read it multiple times and are expecting the next chapter to be something. 

Silly, right? 

But I feel very trapped by my wip right now.

When I wrote my other long fics like Long Live or Vapor, I didn’t post them as wips and I could go back and completely change the course of the story if I wanted to. But you can’t really do that with a wip. (Again, I know I technically could, but it would be very confusing.) I had this entire story mapped out in a timeline of how I wanted things to go, and so far have followed that, but I’m feeling very... trapped by it now. That’s the only word I can think of to describe it. 

I’m going to find a way out of this writing slump I’m in. I promise you will. I have to. The fic, the characters, you, and I deserve this fic to continue and to grow into what I know they should be. I’m just struggling a lot with the idea of writing this next chapter because I wish it could be something different. 

I’m not sure any of that makes sense, but maybe you get it. 

I’m sorry I disappeared. 

When my fight or flight kicks in, I always choose flight.

I’m going to try and be better. 

Thank you all for loving me. 

[the-owl-tree]

some key players from my fan clans. these two are doofuses together

[text + additional lore below]

Text reads:

Lifeseeker (He/Him)

Youngest deputy of BoarClan, son of Dawnstar and Sandstar.

Sailor's mouth, swears a lot. Very crass and can come off as quite rude.

Met Mallardsong as -Paws and instantly hit it off. Besties.

Once sabotaged a betrothal for her at her request.

Mallardsong (She/Her)

Youngest sister to Swiftstar, is very happy her older sister will inherit leadership and not her.

Mischevious and playful, will often skip her lessons to hang out with her friends.

Excellent singer, hence her name.

Loves to perform, usually has Lifeseeker sit in for her rehearsals.

Calls him Seeker for short, but teases him [about his full name] because she can.

Other fun facts about these two-

Very disruptive at gatherings when sitting together, Sandstar once had to pause delivering news because Mallardsong (Mallardpaw at the time) had made Lifepaw laugh so hard he was choking.

The joke wasn't even that funny it was like the equivalent of that Spongebob 24/25 gag.

Dawnstar loves Mallardsong, she's very friendly and lets Lifeseeker invite her to the camp all the time as a guest. She knows how important Swiftstar's family is to him, so if it helps with their peace negotiations, who is she to stomp all over her son's choice of friends?

Lifeseeker sabotaged Mallardsong's betrothal by challenging her fiance to a match at the gathering and thoroughly destroyed him, like humiliated him. To the point it would be an active detriment for the 'royal family' of CardinalClan to maintain the betrothal.

The magistrates were not happy, Mallardsong was.

They often make excuses to meet up and ditch work, neither are very interested in leadership and would much rather just hang out.

[sequinsmile-x]

My Shattered Edges Glisten

When she finds out she and Aaron are having a little girl, Emily is delighted. But her joy is dulled when people keep telling her that her daughter will be just like her, an edge to their voices letting her know they don't necessarily think that's a good thing.

-x-

Hi besties,

I had my annual full body MRI yesterday, meaning I was in a giant magnet for an hour with nothing but my thoughts so naturally mommy issues came out.

I'm dedicating this one to pagetbrewstersswife who recently pointed out Elizabeth is tagged in more of my fics than JJ is...which is something that both says everything it needs to about me as an author and a fact that has lived rent free in my head ever since.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this, and as always let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 4.6k

Warnings: mommy issues, pregnancy

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

When she was young, Emily’s father would read her Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. It started because she’d seen the cartoon and loved it. She’d become obsessed with the story and the larger than life characters. 

Her mother thought she was too young for it, that parts of it would be too much for her, but her father had always said she could handle anything. He’d sit next to her on her bed or she’d curl up in his lap in his office, and he’d read her a chapter at a time. He’d do voices for the characters and act silly in a way he never did when it wasn’t just the two of them. They were some of her favourite memories of him, a reminder that even though he was stern and harsh, his edges sharp if ever she was in trouble, he loved her in the best way he could.

After he died, she tried to remember her love for him by reading other fairytales and watching their movie adaptations, but it wasn’t the same. Love was always at the centre of them, and even when she was young she’d roll her eyes at the cliches and the convenience that came with a happy ending. It had never been her experience of love. Her parents had loved each other, she knew that, but not in the way she wanted to be loved. It had felt like a love of convenience, something that had suited them but would never suit her. She didn’t have to be good at what she did to know that’s why she’d always looked for love in the wrong places, why she’d always sought it out in partners and jobs that were never good for her in the long run.

She’d always looked for love in the wrong places until she found it exactly the right place - with Aaron and Jack. She had stitched herself into the tapestry of their lives, their family pulled together with unbreakable threads of gold that were made of love and trust. It was the family she never thought she’d get to be a part of. The family she and Aaron had built from scratch from the scraps of their lives. Their monsters were both dead and gone, buried after their oh so human deaths, leaving the two of them and the family they were building with nothing but love and happiness. 

A family she was now adding to. 

She runs her finger back and forth over the ultrasound picture in her hand, and she smiles when she feels a fluttering in her belly, a new sensation she wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to. 

“Hi, sweet girl,” she says, pressing her lips together in an attempt to try and suppress her smile, sure her cheeks would split open if it got any wider, “You’re kicking around in there, huh?”

A little girl. They’d found out that morning, Aaron’s hand tight around Emily’s as she had the anatomy scan she’d been worried about for weeks. They’d talked about whether they wanted to find out what they were having, and Aaron was happy to follow her lead. She wanted to know, impatience fizzing under her skin at the thought of waiting another 20 weeks to find out if she was having a boy or a girl. 

When the doctor told them that the baby was a girl, Emily cried. She knows she would have cried either way, that she would have been happy either way, but it felt like an answer to a question she’d never quite known how to ask. As tears sprung free and rolled down her cheeks she’d looked over at her husband to see him crying too, his eyes shining like honeyed chocolate, making her hope there and then that their daughter would have his eyes. 

“You’re never going to stop looking at that, are you?” 

She smiles as she looks at her husband and shakes her head, “No,” she replies, patting the couch next to her to encourage him to join her, “I’m not. Not until I can look at her face all the time instead.” 

“I don’t blame you,” he says, smiling as he sits beside her, his arm around her shoulder as he stamps a kiss against her temple. He looks at the ultrasound picture in her hand, “She’s beautiful.” 

She rolls her eyes at him and tilts her head to look up at him, “It’s an ultrasound picture, honey. She looks like any other baby in an ultrasound,” she scrunches her nose as she brings it closer to her face, “Although, she does look like she has my nose.” 

“Exactly,” he says, kissing the tip of her nose and making her smile despite herself, “She’s beautiful,” he kisses her, his lips stamped against hers, “Do you want to tell anyone, or keep it between us?” 

“I want to tell people,” she says, taking his hand and placing it on her bump, linking their fingers over it. She loved that she actually looked pregnant now, not just like she’d had a big meal or was bloated, “It makes it feel more real,” she furrows her throws at herself, “That sounds ridiculous I know.”

“It doesn’t sound ridiculous,” he replies, kissing her temple and her cheek, “Is she moving?” 

She nods against him, “Yeah, she is. It feels strange. Amazing. But strange,” she turns her head to kiss his jaw, “Soon she’ll be kicking so hard I won’t be able to sleep.” 

“I’ll stay up with you.”

She laughs at his promise, but she knows he means it, that even if he fell asleep, it wouldn’t be from a lack of trying, “You’re sweet.” 

“No one can ever know,” he winks at her, “We’ll tell the team tomorrow?” 

“Yeah,” she replies, smiling at the thought of it, “We’ll tell them tomorrow.” 

___

Penelope practically pounces on them the moment they arrive at work. 

“Did you find out?” 

Emily chuckles as she drops her purse down onto her desk, “Morning, Pen, nice to see you too.” 

Derek and JJ chuckle Emily casts a glance at them before looking at Penelope again, who had least has the decency to look a little embarrassed as she looks back and forth between her and Aaron. 

“Sorry,” she replies, clearing her throat before her face breaks out into another smile, “But I’m just so excited. Is it a boy?” She gasps as she gets herself more excited, “Is it a girl? Will I finally have a niece to spoil?” 

“What do you mean by finally?” JJ quips from behind them, her raised eyebrow and teasing smile enough to let Penelope know she’s only joking.

“Girl’s stuff is cuter than boy’s stuff,” Penelope replies as she shrugs, “It’s a known fact,” she turns back to Emily and Aaron, “So, did you find out?” 

“You should tell her,” Dave says, appearing out of seemingly nowhere as he sits on the edge of Emily’s desk, “Before you have to explain to the FBI why their best analyst died of heart failure.” 

Emily smiles and looks up at Aaron, who smiles softly at her, and she looks back at their friends, “We’re having a girl.” 

Penelope squeals so loudly it draws the attention of everyone else in the bullpen, and then she pulls Emily into a tight hug, “Oh I am so excited for you.” 

“Thanks,” Emily replies, hugging her friend back, “But if you hug me any tighter you might squeeze her out of me.” 

Penelope nods and stands back, “Right, sorry,” she says, smiling at Aaron, “I’m just so happy for you both.” 

“Thanks, Garcia,” Aaron says, smiling in a way he rarely did in the office, “We’re happy too.” 

“Congratulations,” Dave says as he pats Aaron on the shoulder and gives his congratulations as the rest of the team all take turns to hug Emily, “Is Jack excited?” 

Aaron nods, “He said from the start he wanted a little sister.” 

“He asked me yesterday how many days until he gets to meet her,” Emily says, her hand on her bump as she sits at her desk. 

“Her,” Penelope exclaims, her smile wide, “She’s going to be gorgeous.” 

“And a handful if she’s anything like princess over here,” Derek adds, his smile teasing as he tilts his head towards Emily. 

It makes her breath catch in her chest for a moment, but she shakes it off, knowing her friend is only trying to get a rise out of her, “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Come on, Em, I’m sure your mom could tell some stories from when you were young,” Derek adds, and it draws a laugh out of the team, “Remember those high school pictures baby girl found years ago?” 

She rolls her eyes, “That was a phase.” 

JJ hums, “One of many I’m sure.”

“Let’s hope she has Hotch’s temperament,” Dave adds, his smile wide, “Otherwise she might drive you insane with her wilfulness and her inability to follow orders.” 

“Although Hotch can be stubborn,” Spencer throws in, and they all hum in agreement as JJ speaks again. 

“She really could end up being the most stubborn person to ever walk the planet.” 

Emily’s shoulders stiffen, her frame so tense Aaron can see it from where he’s standing, and he clears his throat, drawing the conversation to a close with nothing more than a raise of his eyebrow. 

“We have work to do.” 

Emily flashes her husband a grateful smile as their eyes meet. She can see the concern weaved through his features and she nods to let him know that she’s okay. She tries to shake it off, repeatedly tells herself that her friends unknowingly picking at her biggest insecurity about being a mother, one she hadn’t even shared with Aaron, was nothing more than a poorly timed joke, but it lingers. Sits under her skin and keeps her awake at night as it shifts back and forth, leaving her restless as she lays in bed with her hand on her bump as she silently promises her little girl that she’ll do better even though she hasn’t even held her yet.

She’s still thinking about it days later as she stands in the kitchen making dinner, the minutes ticking down until her mother arrives for the evening. Emily sighs, pausing chopping vegetables to place her hand on her bump. Elizabeth had just got back to the country after a placement in Europe. She knew Emily was pregnant, she’d replied to an email she’d sent her months ago when they could never quite catch each other on the phone, her response nothing more than a line wishing her congratulations before she moved on to telling her all about her placement, but she hadn’t seen her since then. 

It made Emily nervous. She’d changed her outfit several times before she’d come downstairs. She’d switched from shirts that didn’t make her look pregnant enough to shirts that made her too pregnant, before she’d settled on a sweater that once belonged to Aaron. It was loose everywhere but over her belly, the material only the slightest bit taut over the peak of her bump’s curve.  

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” 

She looks over her shoulder at her husband and nods, turning back to the kitchen counter, “I’m okay.” 

He wraps his arms around her from behind, letting her lean back against him, “We can cancel on her if you want.” 

She chuckles humourlessly, “She’ll be just a few minutes away,” she says, kissing his cheek, silently letting him know she is thankful for him, “We both know it’s easier if we just let it happen at this point.” 

“And you’re sure you want to tell her the baby is a girl?” 

She’d thought about it. Thought about not telling her mother she was having a little girl, but she wanted to tell her. To pretend, even for a few minutes, that they had the relationship she wished they had.

“I do,” she replies, “I don’t know if she’ll care,” she blows out a slow breath, “But I want to tell her. Plus, I’m sure Jack will tell her the moment he gets a chance,” She chuckles as she turns to look at him, stepping away from the counter for a moment, “I wonder sometimes what it would be like if we had a relationship where she’d be one of the first people I’d want to tell.” 

He wishes he could fix it for her, that he could make her mother see the damage she had done, but he knew he couldn’t. He leans in to kiss her, his hand on her bump, “One day, this little one will know what it’s like to have that relationship with her mom.” 

She smiles at that, “Let’s worry about her being born before we start thinking about her having her own babies,” she says, cupping his cheek and tugging him in for a kiss, “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he replies, and the doorbell rings as he speaks. She tenses in his arms immediately, any progress he’d made in calming her down gone in a moment, “Do you want to let her in or finish chopping the vegetables?” 

She loves him for giving her the option, for giving her some semblance of control over a situation she felt like she had little control over, “I’ll finish in here.” 

He nods and kisses her forehead, “I’ll keep her busy until you’re ready,” he walks away out of the kitchen, shouting up the stairs for Jack as he goes, “Jack, your Grandma is here.”

She hates that she feels jealous of her son’s excitement, his yell followed by his thunderous footsteps as he runs from his room, and she tries to think of a time she’d ever been excited to see her mother. She blows out a slow breath and rubs a circle on her bump, hoping more than anything that one day her children would never dread a visit from her like she did from her mother, that they wouldn’t go into flight or fight mode just at the smell of her perfume if they walked past someone else wearing it in public.  

She hears the front door open, followed by the rumble of the voices of her family whilst they greet her mother, the sound of Jack’s voice loud enough that she hears it clearly from the kitchen. 

“Grandma, guess what? I’m getting a baby sister.” 

Emily chuckles to herself and looks down at her bump, “Well, looks like your brother told Grandma for me, sweet girl.” 

She takes her time before she walks out of the kitchen, fixing a smile on her face as she enters the living room. Elizabeth and Jack are sat together, the little boy excitedly talking at his grandmother about school, and Aaron is sat separately, the spot next to him waiting for her. 

“Hi Mom,” Emily says, her hand on Aaron’s knee the moment she sits down, her nails digging in through his pants like the joint was her own personal stress toy, “It’s good to see you.” 

“Lovely to see you too Emily,” she says, looking her up and down, her eyes focused on her bump which was more pronounced now she was sitting, “You look…healthy.” 

Emily feels Aaron tense next to her and she squeezes his knee even tighter, her smile as polite as it was fake, “Well, I am almost 21 weeks pregnant.” 

“Jack told me you’re having a girl,” Elizabeth replies, smiling down at Jack who nods excitedly, “When did you find out?” 

“At my 20-week scan,” Emily says, settling into Aaron’s side as he wraps his arm around her, his love and comfort laying over her like a blanket. She knows what her mom hasn’t said, the question of why she didn’t know already lingering in her eyes as if they had a relationship where they shared these things, “I knew we’d be seeing you today so, thought it would be nice to tell you in person.” 

“Well, I’m excited to have a granddaughter,” she says, and Emily knows enough about her mother to know that isn’t all she’s going to say, that she isn’t done with what Emily is sure is going to be an insult disguised as something else. 

“Thanks, Mom,” she says anyway, forever forced to play her part in the little game they’d played since she was too young to know she’d picked up the pieces. She looks up at Aaron and smiles as he links his fingers through hers on his knee, “We’re excited too.” 

“And I’m looking forward to watching you raise her,” Elizabeth says, carrying on as if Emily hadn’t spoken, “It will be like karma for everything you put me through.” 

Emily clenches her jaw so tightly she’s surprised it doesn’t shatter, that it doesn’t break into enough pieces to stop her from asking the question she already knows the answer to, “What do you mean by that?” 

“Oh come on Emily,” she replies, laughing as if they were all in on the joke, as if it was a joke at all, “We all know she’ll end up being exactly like you.” 

___

She sneaks off upstairs the moment her mother leaves. 

She’s grateful that Jack asks Aaron to do their bedtime routine instead of her because it gives her some time to recalibrate. It was something she’d done for as long as she could remember. She’d find somewhere to hide out after a run with her mother, somewhere quiet where she could find some peace until she found her footing again. Her safe place had once been her father’s home office. They’d escape her mother together in there and he’d pull a copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland out of his desk and read to her. Back then he’d been her hero, but as she got older, after he died and she learnt to deal with her mother alone, she realised he should have done more. That he should have stood up for her and told Elizabeth to back down instead of trying to be her partner in crime against her. 

After he died, she would hide out in his office. Her mother never redecorated or repurposed it so she’d sneak in there after a fight with her and curl up in his chair. As she got older, she had somewhere just for her where she could cool off if needed wherever she’d lived. Ever since they’d moved into this house, her and Aaron’s bedroom had been her sanctuary. A room untouched by anything other than love and comfort that allowed her to calm down whenever she needed it. 

This time, she finds herself in her daughter’s partially decorated nursery, sitting on the floor and huffing out a breath as she tries to get comfortable, idly thinking to herself she likely wouldn’t be able to get up without the help she would have once refused. She looks around, smiling at the stencil Aaron had drawn out on the wall, an outline of the rabbit that was ready for him to paint at the weekend. The crib their little girl would sleep in was still in its box, leaning against the wall. Emily can imagine countless nights to come when she’d sit in this room, on the loveseat that hadn’t arrived yet, her daughter against her chest as she refused sleep. 

She sighs sadly as she thinks about her mother’s comments which hadn’t stopped in the living room. They’d carried on over into dinner to, a garnish Emily didn’t want or need, every attempt to compare her to her unborn daughter, to imply all those things were wrong or bad, leaving a crack in her heart. 

There’s a quiet knock on the door and she turns her head to look at it as it opens. If Aaron is surprised to find her sitting on the floor he doesn’t say anything, his usual admonishment left only in a slight raise of his eyebrow. 

“I thought I’d find you in here.” 

She hums and looks back at the box the crib is in, “It’s peaceful.” 

“Want me to leave you alone?” 

She once again finds herself loving him for giving her the choice, for knowing her well enough to do so. There was a time when she would have sought out solitude, but she wanted him with her. She shakes her head, “No.” 

He sits behind her, his hips bracketing hers as he pulls her back towards him and supports her back. He kisses her temple and wraps his arms around her, settling his hands on her bump, “Want to talk about it?” 

“I don’t know,” She laughs humourlessly, the sound catching in her throat, “I was expecting her to say something like that.” 

He holds her tighter, protection and love threaded through his muscles, “It doesn’t make it any easier to hear.” 

“No,” she replies, “It doesn’t,” she swallows thickly, “The team…the team said it too. And I know they were joking, but…,” she chokes on a sound she can’t name, every worst fear she had about her skills as a mother stuck in her through, “Would it really be that bad if she ends up being like me?” 

He frowns, the wrinkle of his forehead something she feels against her own, “Oh god no, of course not. I hope she’ll be like you in every possible way.” 

She looks up at him, and she only realises she’s crying when he wipes his thumb over her cheek, her sadness caught against the callouses that had only ever treated her like she was made of the most precious of stones. 

“Really?” 

He nods, and smiles softly, “Really.”  

She presses her lips together but it doesn’t stop her chin from trembling, it doesn’t stop her voice from cracking as she replies, “Why?” 

It breaks his heart, makes love for her pour out of the cracks her question leaves behind. He didn’t know how she couldn’t see it. How she couldn’t see that she was everything, not just to him but to Jack too. She’d brought him to life, had helped him slot all the broken pieces of him back into place with her smile and her kindness. There were times when he couldn’t believe that he was the one she’d chosen to do this all with. It felt like a privilege to love her and he’d make sure he spent the rest of his life making sure he was worthy of it. 

“Because you’re the best person I know, sweetheart,” he says, running his knuckles down her cheek, “You’re smart and kind and brave,” he leans in to kiss her, barely pulling back before he carries on, “You’re everything. And Jack, and this little girl,” he says, placing his hand on her bump, “Are so lucky to have you as their mom.” 

She scoffs, or laughs, she isn’t really sure, but she shakes her head, “I…I don’t know what I’m doing. How does that make them lucky?” 

“No one knows what they are doing, Em,” he says, smiling when she shakes her head at him, “But they are lucky. Our kids are so lucky. I can’t wait to see you in her. I see you in Jack all the time.”

She sniffs and wipes her cheek with the heel of her hand, “Really?” 

“Really. Before you, Jack was always so cautious. I know that was partially my fault after Haley died. I was so worried about something happening to him that it wore off on him. He never wanted to do anything. He never even wanted to ride his bike in case he skinned his knees and upset me.” 

She chuckles as she thinks about just a few days ago when she pressed a Batman bandaid against Jack’s knee after he came off his bike in the park, “So what you’re saying is, I made him more reckless?” 

“No, I’m saying you’ve made him braver,” he corrects and his seriousness makes the teasing smile on her face slip away, “You’ve made both of us braver,” he tucks some of her hair behind her ear, “Your mom is wrong. All the things she was talking about? Those are good, amazing things and I hope our daughter takes after you in every way possible.” 

She shakes her head at him and leans forward, pressing her face against his neck to breathe him in, ignoring the pull in her neck at the odd angle. 

“I keep thinking of all the ways I’m like her,” she says as she pulls back from him, “Like my mom,” looks down at her bump, at the place where her little girl was safe and warm, “I hope in 30, 40 years the baby doesn’t sit and worry about all the ways she’s like me.”

“You’re not like your mother, Em.” 

She wishes it was true, wishes that she wasn’t half her and half her father, but it wasn’t. She saw reflections of them both in herself all the time, be it her father’s nose or the way she took her coffee exactly like her mother did. They were imprinted on every part of her and all she could do was do her best to be better in spite of those things, to pile all the good she could think of on top of it all to muffle out the bad. 

“I am. Or at least, part of me is. I look like her. I can control a conversation like her. I’ve got her sense of humour,” she shrugs sadly, “I can’t escape the part of me that came from her. It looks at me in the mirror every morning. It…sparks something in me every time I want to prove I’m right.” 

He couldn’t pretend he didn’t know what she meant, that he didn’t see his own father in him sometimes. In the smile they shared that he’d passed on to Jack, in the dimples Emily always told him she loved. 

“All we can do is hope we’ll do better.” 

She nods, somehow taking his place as the comforter in this conversation, pulled out of the slump her mother had forced her into at the familiar look in his eyes, the sadness thinking of his father would always draw out of him. She hated that this was something they shared. Their childhoods were as different as they could be, but the outcome had been the same. Two people determined to do life alone because it felt like the safest option until they found safety in each other. 

“We’re already doing better,” she says, cupping his cheek and stamping her lips against his. They fall into silence for a moment, and she pulls back to look at the rabbit stencil on the wall, smiling softly as she thinks of a story about a young girl who had chased after a rabbit on a warm summer day, “I have an idea for a name.” 

She turns to look at him, a hint of sadness lingering in her eyes that makes him want to call her mother and give her a piece of his mind. He swallows it down, like he had countless times before, because he knows she doesn’t need him to fight her battles for her - she’d always been able to do that herself. 

She needed him to do this. To provide the comfort he’d always give her willingly, his reserves of it as infinite as his love for her. 

“Yeah? What is it?” He asks, running his hand up and down her back. She smiles and nods, her teeth sinking into her lips as if she’s trying to contain her excitement. 

“Alice,” she replies, smiling softly as she thinks of her father, of the part of her that was him, the part she’d pass down onto her little girl, “I think we should call her Alice.” 

[quinloki]

Commit the crime of Common.

Indulge in the sin of “It’s been done before”.

Revel in the joy of “tale as old as time”.

Feast on the popular tropes and the “obvious” combinations and flood the tags with it.

Break the rules beneath your feet like chaff, and throw off the weight of “Uninspired” uttered by those who don’t know the terror of sharing one’s soul like this.

Describe that lace in exacting detail if the desire to do so moves your pen across the page.

Summarize the event you had been building to for months with a few sentences and be done with it.

Claw the messy depths of rage and sex and love and squeeze them between your fingers until the sensations make you sick.

End a story on a cliffhanger because you told the tale exactly how you needed to.

Leave loose ends on the floor to sprout on their own or wither and die. You do not owe them your time when you cut your ideas before a live audience.

Let the B plot became the A plot.

Write something people predict easily.

Kill the hero.

Use minimal tags.

Dangle the C plot like a cat toy and chuck it off the cliff when it becomes a problem.

Turn rude comments into blackout poetry and make them prizes.

Make your characters Mary Sues and then block people who call them that derisively.

Write yourself into the story so blatantly your bestie cannot comfortably read the sex scenes with you in the room.

Do not let the boorish caterwauling of cravens tell you different.

The value of your creations are not determined by how well you followed the rules, or how unique they were. They will never be for everyone - even the most beloved of all media sours between someone’s teeth.

You don’t have to change the world with your story, but don’t let the world change your story either.

[insomniakisses]

The three best friend ( Leah, G, Keira) and lucy hc hc with omega! R im joining other anon on this

Hi bestie ur amazing hope you’re well today !! 😘

- 💋

Im good bestie, hope u are too? 🥰

Joining the pack Hcs

Alphas - Leah, Georgia, Lucy and Keira

They were talking about finding an omega for a while, never agreeing on how to find one it what to look for.

They never planned to add you to the pack.

They didn’t see any comparability, sure you were attractive and sure you were on the same team and friends but that didn’t mean you’d be a good mate for them.

They all have big opinions and personalities, you had to be able to handle that.

They didn’t think you could, until you proved that you could handle them very well.

It was england camp when it happened, high stress and emotions with impending ruts for them had them all arguing.

They were miserable to be around and always caused fights.

It was during Lucy snapping at one of England’s newest members that you spoke up, voice loud and authoritative.

She’d froze immediately looking at you like she’d seen a ghost when you told her to behave and stop acting like a spoiled pup just because her dick hurt.

You had lectured the other 3 after, and they had say there like grounded pups while you did so.

It shocked everyone that you’d silenced them and made them act their age, even forced Lucy to appolagies.

When their ruts hit they immediately sort you out, arguments forgotten because something had stirred in them the other day and now they needed you.

After the mating was all done and you were wrapped up in between the 4 alphas they asked you to join the pack officially.

You happily excepted, how could you not?

The next day everyone knew you were theirs with the 4 mate marks on your neck, their cum in you and their growing possessive and protective nature towards you.

The only thing no one thought about was that you all played in different parts of the world…

[ultimategenshintournament]

Ultimate Besties Tournament: Round 4

Propaganda below cut

Ragbros (submitted 2 times):

From a storytelling perspective, in a game where the premise is reuniting with your lost sibling, these two are excellent foils as siblings who are technically separated but always within reach of each other. I bet that drives the traveler batty, that these two could technically reconcile at any time but Don’t. If you guys aren’t using your free ‘reconcile with your sibling’ card, then give it to them. And one’s even got connections to Khaenri’ah and the Abyss Order! Are these two good siblings to each other? Well. No not really. But the way they were best friends when they were kids and are now bitterly awkward after Diluc’s fratricide attempt (I know he was in a terrible headspace but cmon man. Should’ve at least apologized afterwards.) yet still hang out even in the beginning of the game (see: hanging out in Venti’s story quest and family vacation in GAA 1) is very entertaining. The mask is off now, Diluc. Do you still care about your brother? Kaeya’s internal conflict is very tasty too, still considering Diluc family even if he doesn’t really count himself a Ragnvindr anymore (if he ever did…), and it’s a wonderful narrative metaphor for his conflict of whether he considers himself a Mondstadter despite loving his second home. Kaeya’s a character with a lot of depth from his origins alone, but his personal relationships with the other Mondstadt characters really elevate that and his internal struggles, and none are as important as the family that welcomed him into Mond in the first place. With the exception of the travelers (and Paimon!), I think this is the most important platonic relationship in the game.

Ragbros angst and love makes the world go ‘round

The Protagonists (submitted 4 times):

they're found family and both are extremely underrated and paimon is way too overhated. JUSTICE FOR MY OVERHATED QUEEN AND HER IRRITATING OLDER SIBLING!!

That’s their baby sister ur honor

they pals :)

Paimon haters go suck a lemon I love my emotional support pixie and always will; "BECAUSE THATS WHAT IT MEANS TO BE BEST FRIENDS" I'M SOBBING; They have such sibling energy fr tho. Only thing keeping Traveler sane on god

[gay-jewish-bucky]

#i'm continuing this version on this reblog chain but i'll do the anonymous perspective on the other one bc i have Thoughts #so. the reviews are going well.. until they aren't #it's not the reviews themselves that go bad or that people dislike (homophobes aside. considering this sex act list and the reviews both #were their official “coming out” it did draw its share of negative attention once someone let the homophobes in on it. but the love and #support had outweighed it a lot and honestly.. bucky and steve were both used to being judged. and they both had been through worse #things than being judged. so none of this was really life altering) the problem was actually two problems in one. and later on bucky would #look back and realize that his - bucky's - own mental health was a big part of why steve had hesitated on saying yes to the reviews #it wasn't just about steve's privacy (although that was another part and in retrospect maybe he should have been a little more understanding #but after the shit they had been through - that he had been through - bucky had just been excited to do something fun. something #that combined important parts of his life: his rediscovered jewishness and his steve (and their already indescribable sex life holy fuck) #it let him express himself and he had - at the time - thought it would make him feel like he was taking something back. that he would be #taking something back. something he'd lost for 70 years to ice and strangers and violence and-

#he didnt want to think about it. it wasn't supposed to end up like this. the list hadn't caused any problems but the reviews.. they had #started out fun and helpful (something he had explained to steve one night when steve yet again told bucky that he didnt understand why#he wanted to tell the world about what they did in the bedroom.. and the kitchen. and the living room and the bathroom and the hallway and- #yeah. steve didn't get why bucky wanted to share all of that. and bucky had explained that it wasnt just about the list and it wasnt just #about the sex or getting to lowkey brag. highkey. (hush he was a lucky man) it was about being able to express himself in a way he had neve #been allowed to. not just because of.. things.. but also because of the time they grew up in. it was about showing people that they were #also just people. who were in love and had fun and sometimes clumsy sex. it was about controlling the way he was seen. to really #understate it. and even that.. wasn't entirely correct. the last part. it was hard to explain why it had felt helpful and good initially #it just had. and if it was helpful then wasn't that good?? steve was always trying to help bucky find things that affected him positively #maybe steve's lack of full support of the idea was a warning. a bad sign. if steve - who always supported him - wasn't entirely sold.. buck #thinks - from where he's curled up under a mountain of blankets on their bed - that maybe he should have hesitated too

@mieczyhale bestie i am so very invested in this, on the edge of my seat, your brain, again, is phenomenal

Thinking about Bucky finding this Cosmo article, listing Hanukkah-inspired sex acts.

While initially excited to try them out with Steve, the article is largely a disappointment. It's lazily put together and some don' even have titles, Steve!

Feeling as though the concept has a lot of potential, Bucky decides to spend the next year coming up with his own list, complete with pun or joke titles for all of them, posting it for others to try.

With Bucky taking the role of the NJB (Nice Jewish Bottom), he tests them out with Steve, and blogs about their experience with each (complete with awkward and funny moments).

1. With Your Dreidel I Will Play Strip Dreidel - Rules Nun: nothing Gimmel: lick one of your partner’s exposed body parts Hay: remove all clothing from your upper or lower half Shin: remove one piece of clothing 2. Miracle of the Oil Give your partner a full body rub down with massage oil, progressing to the prone bone position, combining erotic massage with slow and deep anal or vaginal stimulation 3. Latke But Don’t Touch Both partners are naked, one is tied to a chair, being hand-fed latkes, any oil or toppings that drip onto them must be licked up 4. O, Hannukah Partners have penetrative sex in the candle position with the penetrating and receiving partners in vibrating cock rings (for people with vaginas: use a vibrating clit clamp) 5. SufganiHOT Cover and/or fill your partner’s ass and genitals with strawberry-flavoured lube and eat them out 6. Let’s Gelt it On “Buy” sexual favours of your choosing with gelt as currency 7. Maccabeat It Mutual masturbation while reflecting on the Hanukkah candles 8. Light My Menorah Using the shamash of body-safe (paraffin or soy) Hanukkah candle, the partner bottoming straddles (with or without penetration) the partner topping and drips melting wax on their chest (you can reblog the list by itself here!)

Open Fic Prompt!