authors note: sorta like this !! requests are always open :) x
warnings: flashing, nipples play?
it was ten in the morning when alfie woke up, he gently removed you from his hold and began making breakfast, enough for you to have when you woke up. alfie and you had similar schedules, but he always seemed to be gone in your eyes.
he quickly got ready after he was done, showering alone, wishing you were with him, and cleaning his teeth.
he head back to your shared room to grab some last minute stuff before him left, only to hear that familiar groan from you — you were stirring in your sleep.
alfie looked over his shoulder seeing you slowly blinking out the sleep in your eyes.
“mornin’ girl, made you breakfast, make sure to eat it”, he reminded you as he sprayed his after shave.
you simply hum as you rub your eyes tiredly “your leaving already”, you didn’t mean for it to come out so whiny.
alfie glances at you, your eyes still heavy with sleepiness and your hair a mess.
there’s a dryness in his from and a tent in his joggers from that view. it takes everything in him to not cancel on chip and fuck you right here.
“i’m off now, angel, get up and eat”, he walks over to you and presses a soft peck to your lips.
the lustful glint in your eyes tell him your not letting him go that easily. you plaster a lazy smile on your slips, “love you, alf”, you murmur quietly.
a small huff leaves his lips, “love you too, girl”, he pinches your nipple causing you to wince, “stop looking at me like that or i’ll get back in bed, angel”.
you laugh lightly and slap his chest away causing him to roll his eyes and stand to his dominating height. you blow him a kiss as he nears the stairs.
you slowly pull down your tank top ( no bra underneath, who wears them to bed! ). your nipples harden as they hit the cold air. “alf!”, you call out to him.
he turns around, his eyes widening at the sight of you in just those skimpy shorts that he loved so much. your legs were spread as you played with your nipples in front of him. you patted the empty space next to you, “get back into bed”, you smirked.
alfie swallows on nothing, “reader”
"yes, baby?" you tilt your head, voice and eyes innocent, contradicting the way your free hand is aimlessly rubbing yourself.
alfie sigh, shaking his head irritatedly as he throws his bag on the pile of clothes on the floor.
you grins victoriously, moving to the center of the mattress as he comes onto the bed. legs immediately going on either side of your thighs.
his big, strong hands grabbing at your hips, massaging the barely clothed flesh. fingers quickly making their way at your center. he chuckles lightly when he feels your wetness already seeping through the cotton fabric of your panties.
your arm reaches down, grabbing a hold of his clothed cock making you giggle, “i thought you had filming to do?”.
I need a frantic fuck. I need to stumble through a doorway with someone, kissing and nipping at each other however we can while ripping each others clothes off. I need belts fumbled with and shoes kicked off and clothing made just loose enough to get a hand under to touch. I need hours of sexual tension to end with me being pinned up against a wall with someone bottomed out inside of me as they desperately fuck me.
request: can you do a fic about enemies to lovers with alfie where they both hate each other? like they’re always arguing, insulting each other, and just causing problems. they always end up having to be around each other because reader is in the same friend group. reader is into alfie, which makes her hate him more because she finds him annoying. they go the bar together with their friends after shooting for a video, and end up kissing then leaving together early. then they have hate sex. literally filthy.
warnings/contents: smut, fingering, penetrative sex, praise kink, alcohol consumption, MDNI, power exchange, rough handling, degradation with praise.
a/n: okay i lowkey made her an editor, ik u asked for her to be there after filming a video but i think for the whole enemies vibe her being an editor worked better maybe...?? idk! i hope u enjoy tho sista!
The bar was loud, filled with the chatter of Friday night drinkers and the clinking of glasses. You sat wedged between Sabina, Flo and Yasmin at a large table, trying to ignore the presence of Alfie Buttle across from you. His curly brown hair caught the dim lighting as he leaned back in his chair, laughing at something Chris had said. You hated how his green eyes sparkled when he laughed, how his shoulders strained against the fabric of his t-shirt, how his defined arms rested casually on the table, fucking hell, he was gorgeous, no, he is gorgeous.
"Another round?" George asked, already halfway to standing.
You nodded gratefully, needing something to distract yourself from the way Alfie's jawline looked when he turned his head. It was infuriating how attracted you were to him, especially considering how much you couldn't stand his personality.
The tension between you two had been brewing for months. It had started when you'd confessed to Sabina and Flo that you found Alfie arrogant based on his YouTube videos. Of course, words traveled in your friend group, and somehow your comments had made their way back to him. His response had been calling you a "bitch who doesn't even know me" to Harry, which naturally had found its way back to you. Since then, every interaction has been laced with passive-aggressive comments and subtle digs, though you both maintained a civil front in front of the others.
"Rough day at work?" Alfie asked suddenly, his eyes meeting yours across the table. There was a smirk playing on his lips that made you want to slap it off.
"Nothing I couldn't handle," you replied coolly, taking a sip of your drink. "Unlike some people, I don't need to document every minor achievement for social media validation. You’re quite out of touch with the working class."
A few of your friends exchanged uncomfortable glances, but Alfie just chuckled, a low, annoyingly sexy sound. "Sorry, I didn't realize you were so passionate about your desk job. Must be thrilling to edit clips of ChrisMD hitting the cross-bar for the 67th time."
"At least I have a real job and don't need to rely on talking to myself at a camera for a living, should’ve stuck to gym tiktok lives mate," you shot back, with a frown.
"Alright, you two," Chip interrupted, placing a tray of fresh drinks on the table. "Can we go five minutes without the commentary?"
You and Alfie both fell silent, but you could feel his eyes on you. When you risked a glance, he was watching you with an unreadable expression before turning back to his conversation with Arthur.
As the night progressed, the group became more rowdy with each round of drinks. You found yourself relaxing slightly, the alcohol loosening your tongue and your guard. At one point, you went to the bar to order another round for the table, and Alfie followed.
"Let me help," he said, standing close enough that you could smell his cologne, something woodsy and masculine that made your heart race despite your best efforts to hate him.
"I've got it," you replied stiffly, trying to wave away the bartender who was approaching.
"Come on," he said, placing a hand on the bar next to yours, his fingers brushing against yours. You both froze at the contact, electricity zapping through you.
You pulled your hand away as if burned. "Don't touch me."
"Sorry," he said, though he didn't sound sorry at all. "Didn't realize you were so delicate, girl."
"And I didn't realize you were such a gentleman," you retorted, turning to face him fully. The proximity was doing things to your body that your mind protested.
He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur that only you could hear. "There's a lot you don't realize about me."
"Like what? That you're actually not as much of a dick as you appear in every video you post?" you challenged, your eyes locking with his.
His gaze flickered down to your lips for a fraction of a second before returning to your eyes. "And that you're not as judgmental as you pretend to be?"
The air between you crackled with tension, the noise of the bar fading into the background. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, see the flecks of gold in his green eyes.
"I think I'm a pretty good judge of character," you said, your voice softer than you intended.
"Is that right?" he murmured, leaning even closer. "Then what's your verdict on me, now that you've had the chance to know me in person?"
Before you could answer, Will called out from the table, "Are you two getting our drinks or…?"
You stepped back abruptly, the spell broken. Alfie straightened up too, a muscle working in his jaw.
"We're coming," he said to Will, then turned to you. "After you."
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of alcohol and forced civility. You and Alfie avoided direct interaction, but you were acutely aware of his presence across the table. When it was time to leave, everyone was deciding whether to go to another bar or head home.
"I think I'm done for the night," Sabina announced, leaning against Flo.
"Me too," Yasmin agreed. "I’ve got a brand event tomorrow."
As people began to say their goodbyes, you realized you and Alfie were among the last remaining at the table, along with Harry and Chris who were deep in conversation about something football-related.
"I should get going," you said, standing up and grabbing your bag.
"I'll walk with you," Alfie offered suddenly, standing as well. "It's late."
You blinked in surprise. "That's really not necessary."
"It’s fine," he said, echoing his words from earlier at the bar. "It's not safe for you to walk home alone this time of night."
You wanted to refuse, but Harry was already looking at you with expectation. "That's decent of you, mate," he said to Alfie.
"Fine," you agreed reluctantly. "But I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."
"Never doubted it for a second," Alfie replied with that infuriating smirk again.
The walk home was mostly silent, the cool night air doing little to sober you up. You could feel Alfie's presence beside you, his stride matching yours, the occasional brush of his hand against yours sending sparks through your body.
When you reached your building, you turned to him. "Well, thanks for walking me home, I guess."
"No problem," he said, his eyes unreadable in the dim streetlight. "Can I ask you something?"
"Depends on what it is," you replied warily.
"Why do you hate me so much?" he asked, his voice serious for once.
You were taken aback by the directness of the question. "I don't hate you."
"Could've fooled me," he said with a dry laugh. "The way you look at me sometimes... it's like I've personally kicked your fucken dog or summat."
You sighed, leaning against the wall of your building. "Fine. You want the truth? I watched some of your videos before we met in person. You came across as full of yourself and out of touch, it’s like you think you’re God's gift to the world."
"And now that you've met me in person?" he asked, stepping closer.
You swallowed hard. "Now I think you might actually be worse in person."
He laughed, a genuine, deep sound that made something in your chest tighten. "You know, for someone who claims to hate me, you spend a lot of time thinking about me."
"I do not," you protested weakly.
"Then why are you still standing here talking to me when you could be upstairs in your flat?" he challenged, moving even closer until you were backed against the wall, his body inches from yours.
"Because you're blocking my way," you retorted, though you made no move to push past him.
"Am I?" he murmured, his hand coming up to rest on the wall beside your head, caging you in. "Or are you exactly where you want to be?"
Your heart was pounding now, your breath coming in short bursts. You could see the individual curls in his hair, the slight stubble on his jaw, the way his pupils dilated as he looked at you.
"I hate you," you whispered, but it sounded weak even to your own ears.
"No, you don't," he said, his voice dropping to a low rumble. "You hate that you want me. There's a difference."
Before you could respond, he closed the remaining distance between you, his lips crashing against yours. The kiss was nothing like you expected, it was hungry, demanding, filled with months of pent-up frustration and desire. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you flush against him as you tangled your fingers in his curly hair.
You kissed him back with equal intensity, all the animosity you'd felt toward him transforming into raw, primal need. His tongue explored your mouth, claiming you, and you moaned against his lips, your body arching into his.
When you finally broke apart, both breathless, his green eyes were dark with desire. "Can we go up?"
"Sure," you said without hesitation. "Someone’s eager."
The walk up the stairs to your flat was a blur of hands and lips. When you stumbled through your door, your clothes were already half undone, your bodies pressed together in a desperate embrace.
Your flat was exactly as he’d expected it, white with pink accents, a small living room, a big tv, a table. But he had little time to observe as he backed you against the wall, his lips finding yours again.
His hands roamed your body, roughly gripping your hips before sliding down to squeeze your arse. You responded by digging your nails into his shoulders.
"Still think I'm a dick?" he growled against your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin.
"Even more so now," you retorted, gasping as his hand slid between your legs, rubbing you through your jeans. "You think you can just have anyone you want."
"Not anyone," he said, his fingers pressing against your clit with just the right amount of pressure. "Just you."
You hated how your body responded to his touch, how your hips bucked against his hand seeking more friction. "I hate you," you breathed, but it came out as a moan.
"No, you don't," he chuckled darkly, his other hand working to unbutton your jeans.
You wanted to argue, to deny it, but his fingers were already slipping beneath your underwear, finding you wet and ready for him. "See?" he murmured, his lips claiming yours again in a kiss. "Your body tells the truth even when your mouth won't."
His fingers worked magic inside you, stroking and curling in just the right way to make your knees weak. You clung to him, your head falling back against the wall as waves of pleasure washed over you.
"Look at you," he taunted, his thumb circling your clit. "So desperate for it."
He stuck another finger inside of you, making you gasp from pleasure. The dual stimulation has your eyes rolling into the back of your head, moaning and chest heaving.
"Shut up," you gasped, your hips moving against his hand. "Just... don't stop."
"What was that?" he teased, slowing his movements. "I couldn't hear you."
"Please," you whimpered, hating yourself for begging but needing more. "Please don't stop."
"That's better," he said, resuming his previous pace, driving you closer to the edge. "But I want to hear you say it properly."
"Say what?" you managed, your mind foggy with desire.
"Say you want me," he demanded, his voice low and commanding. "Say you need me to make you cum."
You bite your lip, pride warring with desire. "I want you," you finally whispered, the words feeling both wrong and right. "I need you to make me cum."
"Good girl," he praised, his movements becoming more deliberate. "Cum for me."
His words were your undoing. The orgasm hit you hard, your body convulsing against his hand as waves of pleasure washed over you. He held you through it, his lips finding yours again as you trembled against him.
When you came back to yourself, he was watching you with a smug expression. "Still think you hate me?"
"Mhm," you replied, but there was no conviction in your voice.
He laughed, scooping you up in his arms. "Let's take this to the bedroom, shall we?"
Your bedroom was just as he’d expected, feminine, tidy, with a large bed dominating the space. He dropped you onto the mattress, following you down before you had a chance to recover.
"You know," he said, his hands working to remove your clothes, "I've been wanting to do this since the first time I saw you."
"Liar," you retorted, helping him undress you. "You called me a bitch."
"Only because I heard you'd been calling me shit behind my back," he countered, his lips finding your collarbone. "Your tits make up for the fact you’re a bitch, I suppose."
You were naked now, and he took a moment to look at you, his eyes dark with desire. "Fuck," he breathed. "You're even better than I imagined."
"Imagined?" you challenged, reaching up to pull him down for a kiss. "You've been imagining me?"
"Every fucking night," he admitted against your lips.
His confession sent a thrill through you. "Wish I could say the same, it’s a bit pathetic of you," you whispered, your hands working to remove his clothes.
"Oh sure, or maybe you just don't want to admit it," he chuckled, helping you with his shirt. "You're too proud for that."
You made quick work of his remaining clothes, your hands exploring his muscular chest and arms as they were revealed. He was even more impressive than you'd imagined, you’d seen him on camera with his shirt off as well as in the charity match at the end, and fucking hell, everytime his shirt was off he was more bearable.
"Like what you see?" he asked, a smirk playing on his lips.
"It's alright," you said dismissively, though your hands told a different story as they roamed his body. "Could be better."
"Is that so?" he challenged, capturing your hands and pinning them above your head. "Show me how it could be better."
You struggled against his grip, but he was stronger, his body pressing yours into the mattress. "Let go of me," you demanded, though you secretly enjoyed the feeling of being overpowered.
"Make me," he challenged, his lips finding yours again in a demanding kiss.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, using the leverage to flip him over, straddling him now. "Like this?" you asked, grinding your hips against his.
His eyes widened in surprise, then darkened with desire. "Exactly like that," he growled, his hands coming to rest on your hips as you continued to move against him.
You leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear, feeling the slight stubble there. "I'm gonna ride you, so well that you forget about any other girl you've been with, hm?," you whispered, enjoying the visible shudder that ran through his body, the way his muscles tensed in anticipation.
"Promises, promises," he retorted, though his voice was strained with desire, thick with need that he couldn't disguise.
You reached between you, positioning him at your entrance, feeling the heat radiating from his hardened dick. You slowly sank down, taking his cock inch by inch, your pussy stretching to accommodate his big girth. Both of you moaned at the sensation.
"Fuck," he breathed, his hands gripping your hips tightly, fingers digging into your flesh. "You feel so good. You’re such a good girl f’me Darlin’."
"F- fuck you’re so big," you admitted, beginning to move, setting a rhythm that had both of you gasping for breath. You rolled your hips, grinding down against him, feeling every ridge and vein of his thick cock as it slid in and out of your dripping pussy.
His hands roamed your body, cupping your tits, teasing your nipples until they hardened. He pinched them between his fingers, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your lower stomach. One hand slid down your stomach, going lower and lower, his thumb finding your clit again, rubbing it in tight circles that made you cry out at the added stimulation. Your movements became more erratic, more desperate as you chased that building pressure.
"That's it," he encouraged, his voice husky with desire. "Ride me, darlin'. Take what you need. Use my cock to make yourself cum."
You did, chasing your pleasure, your body moving in a primal rhythm as old as time. The room filled with the sounds of sex, the wet slapping of skin against skin, breathless moans, whispered curses, and the creaking of the bed beneath you. You could feel your wetness coating his thighs.
"Look at me," he demanded suddenly, his hand coming to cup your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "I want your pretty eyes to look at me when you cum. I want to watch you fall apart on my cock."
His words sent you over the edge. The orgasm hit you hard, your body pulsing around his as waves of pleasure washed over you. Your pussy clenched and spasmed around him, milking his cock as you cried out his name. He followed moments later, his body tensing beneath you as he found his own release, his hot cum filling you.
You collapsed against his chest, both of you breathing heavily, your bodies slick with sweat. For a moment, there was only the sound of your breathing.
Then reality intruded.
You pushed yourself up, looking down at him. "This was a mistake," you said, though your body still tingled with pleasure.
"Was it?" he asked, his green eyes watching you intently. "Felt pretty right to me."
"It can't happen again," you insisted, moving to get off him.
He stopped you, his hands on your hips. "Why not?"
"Because– well… I don’t like you," you said, as if it were obvious.
"Okay… and?" he challenged, his expression unreadable. “Beggin for my oud isn’t exactly something you do when you don’t like someone?" He let out a little fanged grin, snickering at his little joke which you gave a half arsed blank stare in reaction to, trying to stop the corners of your lips twitching into a small smile.
You didn't have an answer for that. Instead, you leaned down, capturing his lips in a kiss that was just as passionate as the first, filled with confusion and desire and something else you weren't ready to name.
When you finally broke apart, he was watching you with a strange expression. "I’m stayin the night, s’a mission to get home," he said, not a question but a statement.
"You live 5 minu– you literally also live in Shoreditch," you replied weakly.
"So?," he repeated, his voice softer now. "Get comfortable." He smirked, gesturing to your own bed, like a twat.
Against your better judgment, you nodded with a small eye roll, settling back against his chest, his arms wrapping around you. As sleep began to lull you over, you couldn't help but wonder what this meant for the two of you.
Kneeling between Alfie’s legs as he sits on the couch, head rested against his inner thigh as you pump your hand over his pretty cock.
Alfie’s thumb strokes the back of your hand as he holds it, a small comfort you always appreciate.
You hear him take a quick breath as you rub your thumb over the tip of his cock.
His other hand comes down and gently, strokes your hair as you play with his dick, almost in a trance.
“Mmm… feels so good, sweetheart…” he smirks, pushing your face closer so your lips are almost touching his balls.
“Is that a hint?” You giggle, looking up at him through your eyelashes.
“Depends how you take it, bun…” his hand gives yours a slight squeeze.
Your movements don’t stop on his dick as you lean forward, placing a firm kiss to his nuts, before taking them into your mouth slightly, sucking them.
The combination of your hand and your mouth makes Alfie groan.
“Jesus Christ, girl…” he pants, hips twitching.
Each time you slide your hand up his cock, his hips jerk as if he’s chasing the motion… so you continue doing just that.
His breathing speeds up, you swear you heard a small whimper escape his lips as white ropes cover your hand and his stomach as he finishes, abs twitching slightly.
pairing: harry lewis x reader
synopsis: a chaotic night at sidemen hijingo takes a blurry turn when you lose all focus on the game and completely abandon your team to find cozy, clingy comfort on your boyfriend's lap.
word count: 3.8k
tags/warnings :alcohol consumption, clingy reader, established relationship, fluff
“Welcome to Sidemen Hijingo!”
The room erupted into cheers and applause as Simon’s voice echoed through the venue.
Purple and pink neon lights washed over the venue, reflecting off glasses scattered across each table. Conversations overlapped from every direction as everyone started getting comfortable in their seats, already laughing amongst their teammates before the game had even begun.
You were teamed up with Tobi, Becky, and Pie, seated right in between them with your first bingo card and drinks splayed across the table.
“I just know that today is going to end badly for me.” You said turning to Tobi.
“For as long as you follow the rules and don’t say Hijingo, don’t worry I got you.”
“Of course you do, ya big softie.”
Across the room, you caught sight of your boyfriend Harry, with his own team staring at you.
The second he noticed you looking back at him, he grinned and sent you a thumbs up.
You rolled your eyes, and turned back to Simon as he continued to list the rules, asked for team names and started the first round.
Immediately, everyone’s attention snapped towards the front to see the first number call out.
“Number Twenty-seven”
Chaos had well and truly commenced.
Round after round, drink after drink, mystery challenge after mystery challenge, nobody seemed capable of staying quiet for longer than five minutes.
Every few moments, another table would erupt into cheers or groans, followed almost immediately by someone insisting the game was rigged in their favour or against it.
Your team, somehow, was doing well.
Mostly because Tobi seemed to have developed an unnatural ability to spot numbers before they even properly registered on the screen.
The moment one appeared, he was already leaning forward.
“We’ve got that.”
“Tobi, this is getting ridiculous,” Becky laughed as she marked another square.
“I’m just efficient.”
“Of course, it’s literally thee TobJZL,” Pie added, though he was smiling into his drink.
Tobi sat back like he’d just been crowned champion of something far more important than bingo.
Across the room, another team erupted into cheers, followed instantly by loud, dramatic protests from somewhere else. The entire venue never really settled; it just shifted between different bursts of noise...
You found yourself smiling at it all without really thinking, resting your chin in your hand.
The drinks didn’t help.
Not in a way that made anything unclear or blurry.
Just in a way that made everything feel slightly softer at the edges. Easier to drift through. The loud voices around you started to blend into a warm, comfortable background track.
You took another slow sip of your drink, feeling the cool liquid hit your throat, and leaned back slightly in your chair.
Across the room, Harry’s table was in its usual state of controlled chaos.
George and Bach were deep in yet another argument about whether the system was “emotionally biased,” while Arthur looked like he had accepted that logic was no longer required for participation.
Harry was laughing through all of it.
He wasn't trying to steer the conversation. He wasn't really contributing to the argument.
He was just enjoying it—properly enjoying it—throwing his head back like the whole thing was the absolute best part of being there.
It made you smile before you even realised you were doing it, your gaze lingering on the way his eyes crinkled.
“Got it.”
Becky’s voice pulled you back as the sharp clack of the marker hit the table.
You blinked, shaking yourself out of the daze, and glanced down. “Already?”
“You were looking elsewhere,” she said simply, her eyes tracking the screen as she spoke, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.
“I was multitasking.”
“Sure you were.”
Tobi didn’t even look up from the card, his finger tracing the grid. “We’re two numbers away.”
That pulled your attention back in properly. The competitive spark finally nudged its way through the alcohol.
For a while, you actually tried.
You followed the screen. The calls. The reactions around the table.
You leaned forward when everyone else did.
You marked things when Becky told you to.
It almost worked.
Almost.
But the room was too loud, too vibrant, to fully settle into. There were too many things happening at once, pulling at your senses.
A sudden shout from another table pulled your attention sideways.
A loud cheer from somewhere else followed it a second later.
Then laughter — Harry’s distinct, wheezing laugh echoing over the music. His table was briefly visible between people moving around the venue, a pocket of bright energy in the crowded room.
You didn’t turn fully this time.
Just caught it in passing.
Enough to register the sound.
Not enough to completely lose track of everything else on your own table.
Still, Becky noticed the half-second delay.
She didn’t comment immediately.
She just slid the pen back across the table, her fingers tapping a quiet rhythm against the wood, and continued watching the screen.
A few beats later, she glanced side-long at you again.
Not annoyed.
Just… noting it.
Like she’d quietly started keeping count of something else entirely.
Tobi marked another number off the card with a flourish.
“We’re actually flying through this,” he said, leaning back slightly in his chair like he was inspecting his own masterpiece.
You laughed quietly, the sound muffled by the ambient noise of the room, your eyes still half-focused on the board.
For a moment, it almost felt like you were fully back in it.
Almost.
“Got it,” Becky said again, already reaching for the marker before Tobi even had a chance to react.
You blinked, looking between the card and her. “Wait—how are you both seeing these so fast?”
“We’re paying attention,” Tobi said, throwing a playful look your way.
“I am paying attention.”
Becky gave you a look, her eyebrows raised, without actually looking away from the screen.
“That’s not what I’m seeing.”
You frowned, shifting in your seat. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” Tobi added lightly, his tone teasing, “you’ve got a delay.”
“I don’t have a delay.”
“You do,” Becky said simply.
“I don’t.”
A beat.
The neon lights pulsed overhead, casting long shadows across the table. Becky finally turned her head slightly toward you, letting her marker rest.
“You do a thing.”
“I don’t do a thing.”
“You do,” Tobi nodded, chiming in seamlessly. “It’s consistent.”
You narrowed your eyes at them, trying to look serious. “What thing?”
Becky didn’t answer straight away.
Instead, another number boomed through the speakers, and both of them reacted instantly, their eyes darting to the card.
You were a fraction slower.
Not enough to lose the point entirely.
Just enough for Becky to notice the hesitation again.
“There,” she said, marking it with a definitive click.
“I was literally right behind you.”
“Emotionally behind us too,” Tobi added with a grin.
You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “That’s not a thing.”
“It is now,” Becky said.
You shook your head again, but you were smiling, the warmth of the room catching up to you.
Across the room, another massive burst of noise went up from the far tables.
Your head instinctively turned—
You caught yourself halfway.
Stopped.
Looked straight back at the card like you had just narrowly avoided a crime, staring hard at the little printed squares.
Too late.
Becky had already seen the movement out of the corner of her eye.
Tobi had too.
There was a long, deliberate pause at the table.
Then Tobi leaned back in his chair slightly, a mischievous glint in his eye.
“I think we should start charging her for every time she looks over there.”
You gasped, your jaw dropping slightly. “Excuse me?”
Becky hummed in agreement, tapping her chin. “We could increase team funding. Buy another round.”
“I am right here,” you protested, looking between the two of them.
“You are,” Tobi agreed, his smile widening. “Just… intermittently.”
“I am fully present.”
Becky finally turned to look at you properly now, leaning her elbow on the table and resting her chin in her hand.
“Are you though?”
“Yes.”
A beat.
Another number was called out by the announcer.
You didn’t look this time. You kept your eyes glued to the center of the table.
You were proud of that.
Genuinely.
Until Tobi spoke again, his voice dropping to a casual, conversational whisper.
“Harry’s laughing again.”
Immediately, your head turned.
Instantly.
Without permission from your brain.
There was a sudden, heavy silence at your table.
You froze, your eyes locking onto Harry's table for a split second before you realized what you'd done.
Slowly, you turned your head back around.
Becky was already smiling, holding back a laugh.
Tobi was biting his lip, trying desperately not to break.
You stared at them, your cheeks warming up under the pink lights.
“…That doesn’t count.”
Becky tilted her head, her smile spreading. “It absolutely counts.”
“It was informational,” Tobi added helpfully.
“I hate both of you.”
Becky reached for her drink, finally letting the full smile show now as she lifted the glass to her lips.
“We’re just saying,” she said lightly, the ice clinking softly against the glass, “you’ve got very fast reaction times…”
Another number flashed up on the big screens.
Becky marked it instantly, her hand moving without hesitation. Tobi followed a second later with a nod, checking it off his own mental tracker.
You leaned forward slightly, resting your hands on the sticky wood of the table, already trying to refocus your attention when the loud announcement suddenly cut through the room.
“Right — mystery challenge!”
The entire venue shifted at once, a collective wave of movement and chatter rising as the neon lights began to pulse a deeper shade of purple.
Becky turned to you immediately. Her expression changed, turning less focused on the card and more on you as a slow grin spread across her face.
“Ooo, go on then.”
You blinked, pointing a finger at your own chest. “Me?”
“Yes,” she said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Tobi nodded from across the table, leaning back in his chair. “You should go.”
“I should?”
“Yeah,” Becky said, already smiling. “You’ll be good at it.”
You hesitated, looking at the marker still in your hand. “Based on what exactly?”
“Vibes,” Tobi replied.
“That’s not a qualification.”
“It is here,” Becky said, shifting in her seat and standing slightly now to give you room.
Across the table, Pie gave a lazy thumbs up, his eyes crinkling as he took a sip of his drink. “Go on. Represent us.”
You looked between all of them, completely outnumbered. “You’re all just sending me up there?”
Becky laughed softly, the sound almost lost to the bass of the room. “We’re not sending you. We’re encouraging you.”
“That is the same thing.”
“No it isn’t,” Tobi said.
“It is emotionally,” you muttered.
Becky leaned in slightly, lowering her voice like she was letting you in on a secret over the roar of the crowd. “Honestly, it’s perfect timing. You’ve been way too locked in on the wrong things anyway.”
“I have not.”
“You have,” she said gently, her eyes darting briefly toward the other side of the room before she smiled back at you. “Go. Have fun with it.”
Tobi pointed a finger toward the front of the venue where a small crowd of people was already starting to line up by the stage. “Plus it’ll be chaos. You’ll like it.”
You hesitated for a second longer, the pink neon light catching the edge of your glass. Then the noise of the room rose again — laughter, movement, chairs shifting against the floorboards, people calling out to each other as they got up. And somehow, that decided it.
“…Fine.”
Becky immediately lit up. “Yes.”
Tobi nodded approvingly, crossing his arms. “Good choice.”
Pie clapped once, a short, sharp sound. “Proud of you.”
You stood up, still half-protesting under your breath, but already being gently waved forward by the encouraging hands of your own table.
“I hate you all.”
But you were already walking forward, joining the rest of the selected players weaving through the crowded gaps between the tables. And as you moved through the shifting crowd toward the front—
Your attention flickered, just for a second, across the room.
Harry was already right there among the rest of the group on stage — just another person caught up in the same chaos, like this was completely normal.
And somehow, that made it easier.
“Hi,” you said, almost under your breath as you stepped closer.
Harry turned immediately. A grin appeared on his face the second he saw you, looking like nothing about this was unusual at all. “Hello.”
You didn’t even think about it before closing the small gap between you. The hug was quick — natural, easy. One arm each, a brief squeeze, like it was just something that happened without needing permission.
“Well look who decided to participate,” he said as you pulled back slightly, his hand lingering for a fraction of a second.
“I didn’t choose to,” you replied immediately.
“Sure.”
“I didn’t.”
“I believe you,” he said, not sounding like he did at all.
You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. Around you, the rest of the group was shifting into place, laughing, talking, settling into that familiar pre-challenge chaos. Before either of you could add anything else, Simon’s voice cut through the room.
“Right — listen up everyone!”
Neither of you fully let go straight away. You stayed in that half-second of contact, still half-facing each other, while the room slowly shifted into attention around you. Simon continued explaining the rules, gesturing as he spoke about a rock paper scissors tournament. Fast rounds. Immediate elimination. Simple enough that everyone was already nodding along.
Still half in the hug, Harry glanced toward the front. “This is going to be chaos.”
“It always is,” you said.
A small laugh left him. Only then did the two of you properly separate — not abruptly, just naturally as attention tightened across the stage.
You barely had time to settle before Simon was already speaking again. “Right — everyone pick someone. Rock paper scissors. Winners move on.”
The stage erupted instantly. Fast rounds, loud reactions, and people dropping out almost as quickly as they stepped forward. It stopped feeling like separate matches after a while, narrowing down exactly how everyone expected it to until it was obvious, even before Simon said it over the microphone.
“Right,” Simon sighed, looking between the two of you. “Of course it’s you two.”
The room erupted immediately. You let out a small laugh, turning slightly to find Harry already looking at you, still smiling.
“Yeah, that makes sense,” he said.
You rolled your eyes. “Unfortunately.”
Simon raised a hand, and the noise dipped just slightly — enough for the moment to land. You stepped forward, Harry did too, and the rest of the stage blurred into background noise. Just the two of you now.
"Rock. Paper. Scissors."
Instant. You played. A beat.
Then—"I win!"
The room exploded. Harry immediately laughed, shaking his head as he stepped back. "Course you do," he said, the defeat fading into a proud, effortless smile as he looked at you.
You blinked, staring down at your own hand like the reality hadn't fully caught up yet. "...I actually won that."
"Yeah," he nodded, stepping closer to nudge your shoulder playfully. "You did."
Simon pointed a finger toward you through the roaring noise, his voice booming over the microphone. "Right—your team gets to pick a number!"
You caught Becky’s frantic signaling from across the room and called out, "Number Fifty-eight!"
The venue reacted immediately with a massive wave of cheers, groans, and shouts of disbelief. And then—
"HIJINGO!"
Your table erupted into absolute madness. Becky's voice sliced clean through the ambient noise even from a distance, screaming, "I KNEW SHE'D GET IT!" while Tobi threw his hands up, laughing hysterically at the sheer luck of it all.
On stage, Harry looked down at you, his eyes crinkling. "Not bad."
You gave him a small, satisfied look, soaking in the high. "Obviously."
Before heading back down, Harry gave your arm a quick, affectionate squeeze—a private beat of warmth amidst the loud chaos—before you both parted ways to return to your respective sides. You practically floated back to your table, met with high-fives from Pie and triumphant cheering from Becky and Tobi. For a couple of rounds, the adrenaline kept you completely locked into the cards, matching Tobi's hyper-focus number for number.
But the peak of the excitement eventually began to cool.
As the next few rounds ticked by, the game slowly settled back into its usual, rhythmic chaos. Numbers continued to be called, teams celebrated, and George—predictably—resumed his ongoing, passionate argument that the entire venue had a personal vendetta against him.
And that was when your attention, warm and slightly fuzzy from the drinks, began to drift across the room again.
Somewhere along the way, you completely stopped making a conscious effort to stay at your own table.
At first, Becky had been strict about it. She had marched over, physically guided you back by the shoulders, and reminded you that they still had a game to win. You had sat down, taken an obedient sip of your drink, and stared hard at the card. But the alcohol was making the room feel too warm, and Harry's table had a gravitational pull you couldn't fight. Less than ten minutes later, you had drifted right back.
This time, Becky didn't follow. Across the room, you caught her catching Tobi’s eye, pointing a finger at your empty chair, and dramatically dropping her head into her hands. They had officially given up on you.
Completely liberated, you stepped up right behind Harry’s chair, letting one hand settle absent-mindedly onto his shoulder.
Harry didn’t even look up, completely unfazed by your sudden reappearance. Arthur was in the middle of a sentence, George was still complaining, and the game roared on around you, but Harry’s hand instantly lifted from the table. Without a word, his fingers slipped between yours, locking your hands together like muscle memory.
To be fair, the boys had seen this happen countless times. Whenever the group went out drinking, there always came a point in the night where you became significantly more attached to Harry’s side than your own.
You stood there for a few minutes, contentedly swaying to the music, before gently nudging his shoulder. "Harry."
He finally looked up, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "Hm?"
You looked at him, then eyed the crowded, occupied chairs around the table, and then looked back down at him with a sleepy pout. "Can I sit here?"
A soft smile immediately tugged at his lips. "Yeah, sure baby."
Harry gave your hand a small tug, guiding you down until you settled comfortably onto his lap. His free arm wrapped naturally around your waist, your legs sideways across his lap.
"Comfortable?" he murmured against your hair.
You hummed happily, resting your head on his chest. "Very."
"Good."
And that was that. Across the venue, Becky slowly lowered her glass, watching you completely dissolve into George's latest dramatic story. She nudged Tobi, pointing with her chin, before gesturing to Pie—who was currently engaged in a very passionate conversation that seemed to be making perfect sense to him and absolutely nobody else.
"Yeah," Tobi laughed, taking a sip of his own drink as Pie joined in on a random cheer across the room. "She's gone, and he's completely tuned out. We're the only two left."
Across the room, the game had officially become background noise—at least for you. George was already in the middle of another joke, fully committed to a bit that seemed to get more ridiculous every time he opened his mouth. Arthur was laughing, Bach was laughing, and unfortunately, so were you.
“You cannot seriously think that’s true,” Arthur said through a laugh.
“It is true.”
“It’s literally not.”
“It absolutely is.”
George looked around the table like he was expecting support. Your hand immediately shot up. “I agree with George.”
“Thank you,” George said instantly.
Harry looked up briefly. “You don’t even know what he’s talking about.”
“Don’t need to.”
“That’s concerning.”
You pointed at George. “He’s got conviction.”
“Exactly!” George said.
Arthur laughed harder. Harry just shook his head before looking back down at the card in front of him.
One hand resting on the table. The other still loosely wrapped around your waist. Not because he was paying particular attention to it. Just because at some point you’d ended up there and neither of you had thought to move.
“You are encouraging him,” Harry informed you.
“I think he’s funny.”
“He already knows that.”
“Good.”
George looked delighted. Harry looked significantly less delighted. You grinned before settling further against his chest.
For a moment, Harry glanced down at you. Then at the nearly forgotten card in front of him. Then back at you.
“You’re supposed to be helping your own team, you know.”
You tilted your head. “My team seems fine.”
Harry snorted. “Right.”
And despite the fact that George was still talking, Arthur was still laughing, and numbers were still being called somewhere in the background—
Neither of you moved.
A few moments later, another drink appeared on the table.
Your eyes immediately lit up.
Harry noticed.
Unfortunately.
The second your hand reached for it, his got there first. His fingers closed around the glass before you could even touch it.
"Harry."
"No."
You stared at him. "You don't even know what I was going to say."
"I do."
"You don't."
"I absolutely do."
You frowned. He looked entirely unconvinced.
Without another word, he slid the drink slightly further away, out of your reach, before reaching for the glass of water beside him. The one that had been sitting there mostly untouched for the last hour.
"Drink."
You looked down at it. Then back at him. Then back at the water.
"You're no fun."
"Drink."
Arthur laughed. George pointed at Harry immediately. "He's doing that thing."
"What thing?" you asked.
"The protective boyfriend thing."
"I am not," Harry said.
"You are."
"I'm literally not."
Bach was already laughing. Meanwhile, Harry simply continued holding the glass of water out towards you. Waiting. Patiently. Like he already knew how this was ending.
With a dramatic sigh, you finally took it from his hand.
"There we go."
You narrowed your eyes, taking a slow sip. Harry looked entirely too pleased with himself.
Satisfied, he returned his attention back to the card in front of him. One hand resting on the table. The other found its way back around your waist without a second thought.
The game carried on around you. Numbers continued being called. Teams continued celebrating and complaining in equal measure.
And somewhere between the drinks, the laughter, and the constant chaos of the room, the rest of the evening seemed to settle into something comfortable.
summery: after discovering his wife has been sleeping with the one man he truly despises, declan o'hara finds an unlikely confidante in the girl who is sort-of dating his son. somewhere between secret birthday parties, private conversations, and seemingly being the only two loyal people left in rutshire, things get complicated.
note: reader description is kept minimal beyond mentions of long hair.
word count: 4502
divider credits: @strangergraphics
The O'Hara kitchen smells of coffee and vanilla extract.
Sunlight spills through the windows, catching on copper pans and glass jars and the thin layer of flour dusting the worktops.
For once, you're not here for Patrick. You’re here for Taggie.
Standing in front of a mixing bowl, you wonder whether cake batter is supposed to look like that. You suspect not, which is precisely why you’re in Taggie O'Hara's kitchen instead of your own.
"I've ruined it," you blow out a frustrated breath, dropping your arms down to your sides.
Taggie glances up from where she’s measuring ingredients, "you haven't."
"I absolutely have," you reply, peering down into the runny goo you’ve created within the few minutes you’ve been left unattended.
"You haven't," Taggie repeats, sounding entirely too confident in you.
You point at the bowl and she leans over, inspects it for all of two seconds, then gently takes the whisk from your hand.
"You've just put a bit too much milk in, that’s all."
"Is that bad?" you wince.
You've been staying with Aunt Lizzie for a couple of weeks now, long enough to learn that half of Rutshire's social life revolves around secrets.
This week's secret happens to be a birthday party.
Aunt Lizzie's party is tomorrow, a day before her actual birthday, and Rupert Campbell-Black had somehow convinced half of Rutshire to conspire against her.
The plan involves a surprise party and a very carefully curated guest list. You, meanwhile, have somehow ended up responsible for the cake.
Only, you can't bake.
"It’s easily fixed," Taggie's answer comes immediately, comfortingly.
You watch as she adds something from a small bowl.
"What was that?" you ask, continuing to watch as she mixes it until it looks like normal batter.
"A little more flour."
Thank the heavens above you have access to a professional who’s willing to help.
You groan dramatically, embarrassed by such a simple mistake, and Taggie laughs, the sound filling the kitchen.
“You are a genius, Tag,” you tell her, the smile on your lips growing when she blushes.
“Oh, not really,” she dips her head down as she pours the batter into a tin, her reddish fringe hiding her eyes from view.
You have a feeling nobody's ever really told Taggie she's smart.
“Honestly,” you say, scooping up what's left in the bowl onto your finger and bringing it to your lips, “cooking is a real science, baking even more so.”
You are halfway through licking batter off your fingertip when the slapping of bare feet echoes into the kitchen.
"Taggie!" an Irish cadence calls out before Declan O’Hara is stood in the doorway, fresh from the shower.
“Have you seen my shirt? The white one.”
He’s wearing only a towel, slung low around his waist. Water clings to his hair and drips down his shoulders, entirely ignorant of the effect it might have on any innocent visitors present.
Taggie doesn't even look up from where she’s placing the cake into the oven.
“In the airing cupboard,” she says absently, closing the door and double checking the temperature.
“I looked in the airing cupboard,” Declan replies, each word landing with quiet irritation, carefully contained.
“Then you didn’t look properly.”
He tilts his head to you then, a quiet exhale through his nose, as if protesting the implication that his daughter underestimates his competence.
You’re still licking frosting from your fingers when he moves, your eyes following him as he leaves without you really meaning to. A delayed, inconvenient realisation hits that you were staring at him the entire time he had stood there.
It’s mortifying, but you could hardly be blamed. How, exactly, did a father of three grown children still look like that?
“So, how are you planning to keep this all hidden from James?” Taggie asks, moving you both on from her fathers brief interruption.
“Oh,” you snap back into the conversation, a slight flush to your face, “hopefully everyone at Corinium will still be at work, and then everyone at Venturer will have the afternoon off,” you explain.
You’ve never really warmed to Uncle James, and staying with them these past few weeks has made that impossible to ignore.
He is, quite frankly, an awful husband.
“That’s very optimistic,” Taggie muses, bending down to give her puppy some attention.
“Yeah, well, Rupert's mostly organising that part,” you say, crouching to pet Gertrude, the older dog, before realising your slip up.
Patrick had attempted to catch you up on all the local scandals, but you’re still not really sure what had happened between his sweet little sister and the notorious politician.
Taggie, however, doesn't so much as blink. She is far too gracious to make you feel awkward for mentioning him.
"That's kind of him," she says, gathering up the dirty dishes to take to the sink.
“Yeah,” you smile timidly, helping her clean up all the mess you’ve created.
Taggie glances towards the oven, "I've got the cake from here."
“Are you sure?” you ask, eyes widening, “I feel like I kinda dumped this on you.”
“Of course,” Taggie smiles, “I don’t mind. Go see Patrick, he’ll still be in bed.”
“You are an angel,” you wrap your arms around her neck in a big hug when you feel her stiffen slightly. She laughs, though, patting your arm like you are something mildly chaotic but ultimately harmless.
You pull away reluctantly, already backing toward the door, “thank you!”
By the time you reach Patrick's bedroom, you're sure the house had acquired an extra corridor since the last time you’d visited.
When you spot him, he is indeed still in bed.
“Hey, lazybones, it’s almost noon,” you flop down on top of him.
“Hey,” he grins sleepily, reaching up to stroke your hair back, “what are you doing here?”
-
The morning of the party begins, as most mornings in the Vereka household do, with James being irritating.
You hear him in the bathroom practising his affirmations in the mirror, which he does religiously each day, reminding himself of his extremely important job as a television presenter for Corinium.
Tony Baddingham's number one guy.
Urgh. How does Aunt Lizzie live with him?
You’ve heard about the managing director of Corinium, though never in any context that made him sound particularly pleasant. Tony is a man who apparently runs his company like it is a kingdom and expects everyone inside it to behave accordingly.
All of it is very interesting, slightly intimidating, but not what you need to focus on right now. That doesn't help you get Lizzie to her party.
The difficulty with surprise parties, you are discovering, is that the surprise party has to remain a surprise. Unfortunately, the person being surprised by the surprise party must also somehow arrive at the surprise party and still remain surprised.
Which means your current task is to get Lizzie to Rupert's house at one o'clock-ish without telling her why she needs to be at Rupert's house at one o'clock-ish.
Eventually, James leaves for work and the house improves immediately, even with the chaos of your niece and nephew getting ready for school.
You stay on the sofa with a bowl of cereal you’ve mostly forgotten to eat, mentally running through the increasingly fragile structure of the day while you wait.
By the time you leave the house, the children are half-cooperative and Lizzie is in a familiar state of organising everyone else’s morning into something vaguely functional.
You fall into step beside her on the walk to the kids’ school, hands in your pockets, trying not to look like someone actively scheming.
For a while, your presence goes entirely unremarked upon. Lizzie's attention is occupied by her children running wild across the Cotswold countryside.
Eventually she glances at you.
“You’ve never voluntarily joined the school run,” she says, her tone slightly suspicious.
You shove your hands deeper into your pockets, “thought I'd keep you company.”
“Mhm,” she hums. It's the sort of response that contains absolutely no words of accusation and yet somehow feels vaguely accusatory.
The silence stretches.
“I have a favour to ask.”
“What is it?” she asks, turning her head towards you.
“Taggie needs something picked up from Rupert’s house,” you say, keeping your tone deliberately casual.
It is, of course, a lie.
“Oh?” is how Lizzie responds, eyes drifting back to follow her children running free rein up ahead.
“Yeah, and I thought,” you hedge gingerly, “since I don't know him that well and you do, you’d come with me?”
The truth is, you've spent the last several days exchanging secret messages with the older man who happens to be possessed of more sex scandals than you could count on both hands.
In your defence, every message had been entirely innocent. Unfortunately, "I've been secretly communicating with Rupert Campbell-Black all week" sounds considerably worse than it is.
“It would make it less awkward,” you add, a shy smile barely tugging at your lips.
“He has a reputation, but Rupert’s a good man really,” Lizzie says. She looks at you then and smiles, “but, of course. I'll come with you if you want me to.”
“I do!” you exclaim, then quickly reel yourself in. You need to act casual. So casual.
“Thank you,” you say, calmly this time, though a genuine smile stretches across your face.
As you approach the school gates, Lizzie seems more concerned with shepherding the children through than questioning your suspicious enthusiasm for helping Taggie.
By the time you're heading back towards the house, the morning has brightened considerably. The rest of the day passes in a blur, and before you know it, it’s already a quarter to one when the all-clear message comes through.
Rupert Campbell-Black: All ready
By just after one o’clock you’re both in the car, heading towards the party.
Rupert's front door is already open by the time you pull up, with him standing there in front of it, waiting.
"Why is he standing outside?" Lizzie asks, leaning over the steering wheel to get a better look at her friend.
"No idea," you shrug, feigning confusion.
Rupert ambles over with a big grin, on his way to open Lizzie's door. He greets her with a hug and an audible smooch on the cheek.
The moment Lizzie steps through the front door, the room erupts.
"Surprise!"
There’s applause and at least one party popper that goes off late, and Lizzie's hand flies to her mouth as she stares at the crowd gathered inside Rupert's entrance hall.
You leave her to the inevitable wave of hugs and celebrations, slipping through the crowd yourself.
Taggie catches sight of you first. "You did it!" she laughs as you pull her into a hug.
Caitlin is next, followed by Patrick, who receives an additional quick kiss on the cheek.
You glance across the room, at all the people here to celebrate Lizzie. Most of the faces belong to friends she rarely gets to see these days. Friends from Venturer. Friends James had gone as far as to ban her from fraternising with.
You spot Declan standing at the edge of the crowd, already working his way through a glass of champagne.
He doesn't look like a man celebrating. If anything, he looks like a man making a determined effort not to think about something.
His jacket has already been abandoned somewhere, shirt sleeves rolled up, one hand wrapped tightly around the stem of his glass.
Around him, the party swirls on happily, though Declan appears entirely separate from it.
He catches you looking, lifts his glass, then takes another long drink.
His wife is nowhere to be seen, not that you'd expected her to be. Most of the guests are from Venturer, and Maude O’Hara collaborates with Corinium now.
It's only when you catch him reaching for another glass of champagne that her absence starts to feel more meaningful.
“You did wonderful, darling,” Rupert approaches to wrap his arm around your shoulders, grinning down at you proudly.
“What? You did all the work,” you deflect, dipping your head when you feel your cheeks flush, “and Taggie made the cake.”
Rupert lifts his gaze from you, moving it to where Taggie stands besides you. “Did you, now?” he addresses her.
You slip out from under Rupert’s arm before you get in the way of whatever is happening there.
By now, you’ve had a few glasses of fizz and are starting to feel it in that light, floaty way that makes everything slightly softer around the edges.
Your heels are long gone somewhere in the reception room, abandoned in favour of bare feet on cool floorboards. There’s no hope of finding them anytime soon, and the need to find the loo is no longer something you can ignore.
When you find it, you push open the door.
Only, the room is already occupied… by your aunt and another man.
They are kissing in that unambiguous, completely unaccidental way that rearranges the room the moment you see it. For one suspended second, your brain refuses to attach meaning to the image in front of you.
Quietly, before they can notice you, you close the door again. Only once it is securely shut again, do you release your breath.
Crist on a crumpet.
Lizzie Vereker is cheating on her husband with Freddie Jones.
You stand there in the corridor for a second too long, staring unseeingly at wood-paneled walls.
Under any normal circumstance, this would be exactly the sort of thing you’d feel fairly certain about being against. But, in this moment, you can’t quite summon the outrage you think you’re supposed to feel.
Not that it’s really any of your business. It doesn’t affect your life in any meaningful way. You just want the best for your aunt, who always wants the best for everyone else.
You need somewhere quiet for a moment to process these thoughts, somewhere away from the noise of the party.
The library is dimmer than the rest of the house, all heavy shelves and soft light filtering through old curtains. It feels, briefly, like somewhere the world might not follow you into.
You close the door behind you and let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding.
Pressing your fingers lightly against the edge of the bookshelf, grounding yourself in something solid and real, you try to make sense of what you’ve just seen.
That’s when you realise you are not in here alone.
Declan O’Hara is sitting in one of the armchairs by the unlit fireplace, an empty champagne flute dangling loosely from his fingers.
Tilting your head slowly in his direction, you peer at him from underneath your lashes to find that he’s already staring at you.
If you’re being honest, you've had a crush on Declan O'Hara ever since you watched him punch a vicar on live television.
He'd called him a "filthy, hypocritical old git" beforehand, so you'd always figured the Reverend must’ve had it coming.
“Sorry,” you say automatically, turning to leave.
“No, don't," he says, standing as if he should be the one to leave.
You listen and remain where you stand near the door.
“Are you alright?” Declan studies you for a moment, “is it Patrick?” he asks.
There’s a flicker in his expression as he says it, something sharper underneath the calm in his voice. The suggestion seems to irritate him almost as soon as he’s voiced it, like he’s offended on your behalf by the idea of his son being the cause.
“No,” you say quickly. “It’s not Patrick.”
He nods, the tension easing from his shoulders slightly.
“He’s a good lad,” he says eventually. “Just misguided when it comes to relationships. I suppose Maud and I are hardly the best example.”
There’s something clipped in the way he says it, like he’s bitten the words off before they could soften.
“Oh,” you say, “Patrick and I aren’t really anything serious.”
You’ve never had any illusions that you and Patrick would ever turn into anything. What you two have is just a bit of mutual fun while you’re visiting your aunt, nothing more complicated than that.
“Right,” Declan nods, before the room stretches into silence.
You watch him, while he watches you.
“So,” you say quietly, “why are you hiding in here?”
Declan's jaw tightens, a flicker of something uncomfortable passing across his face as if he’s just remembered what’s been sitting wrong with him all afternoon.
“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” he says, his voice gentle despite the obvious tension to his body.
You’re still watching him carefully when he looks away slightly, his jaw clenching once more as he mutters, under his breath, “Tony fucking Baddingham.”
“Tony’s here?” you ask, your heart rate picking up at the mention of his name.
You’d hoped to have avoided that man during your visit here, after all the scathing descriptions you’ve heard of him. Now he’s here, uninvited, and bound to ruin your aunt's well-deserved celebration.
“No, no,” Declan steps towards you, “He’s not here.”
His warm palm lays heavily on your bare shoulder, a comforting effort to calm you down.
“He’s been sleeping with my wife,” he explains quietly.
“Oh,” you say numbly. Do you have any other words left in your vocabulary? If you did, you can’t think of them now.
Declan exhales a soft breath through his nose. A laugh, sort-of. “Yeah, oh.”
The rivalry between Corinium and Venturer is threaded through everything in Rutshire in ways you don’t entirely understand but are increasingly aware of.
And at the head of it all are Declan O’Hara and Tony Baddingham.
“I’m sorry,” you offer weakly, and Declan squeezes where he's still holding onto your shoulder.
“I bet you’re an honest man,” you say, keeping your chin down, but moving your eyes up to his. “I’m not sure someone like that deserves your loyalty.”
“It’s not quite that simple,” he grits out, not looking down to meet your gaze. “Maud has cheated on me before, and she always will. I’ve accepted that, I still love her,” he takes a deep, angry breath, “but with Tony fucking Baddingham?”
You lay your palm on his chest, unthinking. You just want to calm him down, like he had done with you.
When Declan's eyes shift back to yours, his gaze is intense.
“You’re a good girl, aren’t you?” he asks in a whisper.
When you nod, his focus drifts to where a shaky breath leaves through your parted lips.
“Yeah,” he agrees, holding his eyes there as he speaks, “you wouldn’t ever stray, were you committed to someone,” he hums. He leans down towards you then, closer than you’ve ever been before.
When you shake your head, answering a question he never actually asked, your lips come so close to touching.
The hand on your shoulder lifts, moving to grab a fistful of your hair. Declan holds it in a gentle handful at the back of your head.
“Fuck, you’re a good girl,” he breathes into your mouth.
You moan softly and he can’t hold back, crashing his lips down onto yours.
You fall against him, leaning into the kiss desperately when his hand in your hair tightens and his other curves around your waist.
The brush of his moustache against your tingling, sensitive lips is unlike anything you’ve felt before and you reach up onto your tiptoes to chase it.
You’re in your own world, kissing Declan O’Hara, so when you are suddenly lifted off the ground as if you weigh nothing at all, you gasp in surprise.
When you wrap your legs around his sturdy waist, Declan hums in response. The sound vibrates down through your whole body, making you shiver.
You can feel his hardness when you bear down, even through his trousers and all the bunched up fabric of your dress in the way.
You whine, your lips barely lifting from his for a moment, the need to be rid of these layers between you suddenly pressing.
“I know,” he murmurs against your mouth, taking a few wide steps backwards with you still in his arms. When you both reach the armchair he was sat in earlier, Declan lowers himself back into it.
You're in his lap now, sitting on his muscled thighs. Your lips leave his, one final lick up to touch the edge of his moustache with the tip of your tongue, before moving down to scrape your teeth at his jutting chin while your fingers fiddle with his belt buckle.
At the same time, Declan's hands smooth their way up your thighs and disappear underneath the skirt of your dress. You look down at the simple cotton, embroidered with tiny daisies around the hem. It suddenly feels absurdly innocent for a moment that has become anything but.
You feel his fingertips trace the lacy edge of your thong and shift your hips forward slightly, encouraging him to touch you there.
“Please…” you beg. Your teeth drag down his throat as your torso falls forward against his.
“Yeah? What do you want?” he asks, his voice the slightest bit strained, his irish vowels just a bit rougher.
“I don't care,” you whine. He's still not touching you.
“Tell me, sweetheart,” His thumb strokes so lightly at the fabric over your clit. You barely feel it, yet it still sends a shock of electricity to your core.
“Yes,” you hiss, “there.”
His thumb presses down harder, resting against your clit as it throbs at the contact.
“Okay,” he whispers, breath hot against your ear before he sucks the lobe into his mouth and swirls his tongue around it.
His cock is rock hard. You feel it jump beneath where your palm is absently resting over it and instinctively tighten your grip, squeezing it with slender fingers.
Declan hums, deep and rough, but you need more. You bear down more forcefully against his thumb, moaning wantonly.
His thumb stays where it is while two fingers from his other hand slip underneath the lace edge of your underwear, stroking you bare. You’re slick and needy, and you draw his fingers in so easily.
“Thats it,” he murmurs roughly, “you’re so wet,” he curls his fingers.
You moan, squeezing his cock too hard in reaction to the intrusion, far too lost in your own pleasure to pay much attention to his.
You swipe under the weeping head of his cock with your thumb in apology.
“Fuck,” he groans.
Without warning, Declan's hands leave you, his rough fingers trailing along your hips to grasp at your arse with greedy handfuls. When he pulls you closer, the front of your soaked thong meets his bare cock and you both moan.
You push up on your knees slightly, causing friction between you, then tilting your pelvis forward, you rock against his straining length.
Declan moves one of his hands out from beneath your dress to wrap around the length of hair between your shoulders. He tugs and it forces you to lean back, one arm reaching back to hold onto his thigh in order to stabilise yourself. Your other hand pushes the edge of his shirt up, exposing that impressive stomach as your hips stay grinding against him.
“Just like that, sweetheart,” He tells you. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”
“More,” you whimper, and it’s pathetic. You’re so needy.
“You want more?” he asks and you nod desperately, unable to answer verbally.
With the hand that was still kneading at your arse, he grips onto the back of your thong, fingers curling into the lacy fabric so he can tug it down and out of his way.
His eyes are half lidded as he leans back to watch you sink down onto him.
“Ah,” you gasp at the stretch of it, your nails scratching down the taut skin of his stomach, leaving behind little red lines.
You try to widen your thighs but are restrained by the lace wrapped around them, until Declan's hand smooths up your leg to rip them off of you.
“Oh, fuck, urgh,” you moan, throwing your head back as you fall fully onto him. You're pelvis to pelvis, Declans whole length buried inside of you.
“You’re so fucking tight,” Declan grounds out, rolling his hips against yours in the slightest, most intentional way.
You clench your muscles, pulsing on his cock, and he groans, low and long. When you're ready, you lift your hips before grinding down again.
With one hand now at your waist, Declans other travels up to cup your breast over the cotton of your dress. He squeezes and your stomach flutters in arousal.
You can hear the wet, squelching sound of his cock moving, but you're frustrated at not being able to see it go in and out, getting slicker and slicker with your mess. Declan, too, seems unsatisfied with being denied full access to your tits.
“Unzip me,” you lean down to whisper breathlessly into his ear, stroking his sweaty black hair back as you do.
Without a word, Declan reaches behind you with deft fingers and swiftly tugs the zipper down your back. He helps push folds of fabric over your head until you are free of it and bare above him, your long hair falling messily around your face.
The reality of the situation hits, and you realise that you're completely naked in a room with an unlocked door and several dozen people celebrating just beyond it.
Somewhere along the way, Declan's trousers had ended up pooled around his ankles. He kicks them aside now without a second thought, so at least you’re not alone.
He wraps his hands around your waist, helping guide you up and down as he thrusts up into your pussy. Eventually, one returns back to your arse while the other drifts down your side, thumb tugging down the centre of your stomach, over your pelvic bone, and stopping at your clit.
“So close, so close,” you chant, feeling the pressure mount as Declan fucks into you.
“Fuck!” he shouts, hot spurts of cum shooting into you without warning.
Your hips stutter, dragging slowly against his softening cock as you follow with your own orgasm.
When it’s over, you follow as he flops back deeper into the armchair, panting against him.
Declan hums in satisfaction, the vibration of it going through your whole body as he strokes your wild hair back.
But all you can think now is fuck, I’ve just shagged a married man.
authors note: i have been so inactive! im really hoping that i will be motivated to finish the next neighbours chapter for you all !! i will definitely post chapter 3 before i post my new series…
warnings: spitting, finger gagging, squirting
alfie has ridiculously large and pretty hands. he takes advantage of them, too. uses them with purpose.
purpose behind every teasing swirl of his fingers as he ghosts over your clit and circles your entrance.
each curl of his long digits as he fingers you until you see stars; until you're squirting on his bed and making a mess that he won't even hesitate to fuck you straight into.
he'll make you suck them clean as he sinks into you, praising sickly sweet as he pushes your tongue down and spits onto it before essentially finger-fucking your mouth.
until he's fully stretched you out, going intentionally slow sometimes just to see you gag on his fingers a bit longer.
his hands are all over your body as he fucks you. they never stop. never give you a chance to rest, to try and figure out where they might go next.
your clit, your chest, your face, your waist, ass, stomach, thighs. all over, non-stop. if he wants to touch something, it gets touched.
there's two options for where his hands go when he cums:
cupping your face, completely engulfing it in his soft grasp as he presses his forehead to yours; telling you how you feel so fucking perfect that he'll never let you get away.
cradling your cheeks and letting you suck on his thumb to cope with his pounding getting rougher as he gets closer to his peak all while praising how well you take him.
or, if he's feeling meaner or more possessive; one around your neck and the other on your waist to pin you in place.
fucking feral in the way his hips snap into yours and practically preaching that you're his girl, and his alone and he'll fuck you so hard you forget anyone who came before him.
if your hands start fidgeting and grabbing at him, he'll pin them down with his. lace your fingers together and squeeze your hands gently while he kisses you until you're dizzy.
his hands cradle you to his chest when you're done, stroking your head and cooing about how good you did. wiping up any tears or sweat that may be on you.
( content warnings : 18+ mdni , sexual content , cum play, dominance, praise, good girl kink, etc, )
( a/n ) : ffs this is taking too long can u guys, pls just lock in and like read this, i promise i'll be nice and accommodating to all ur anons from now on okay guys trust me 😢
AFTERCARE, what they're like after sex
Alfie's dominant exterior melts away into a surprisingly tender aftercare routine, though he maintains his fun persona even in the intimate moments. He'll pull you flush against his muscular chest, stroking your hair as he calls you his "good girl" or "angel" in that rough voice of his. His strong arms, which were just pinning you down moments ago, now wrap protectively around you as he checks in with that serious voice he reserves only for you "You alright there, bunny? Need anything?" He's surprisingly attentive, noticing every shiver and whimper, responding with kisses and whispered praises about how well you took everything he gave you.
BODY PART, their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's
Alfie is obsessed with his biceps and arms (why he LOVES going to the gym) he loves watching them flex as he holds you down or lifts you into positions. He'll often make you watch him in the mirror (his bedroom one ;)) as he flexes, grinning when you bite your lip at the sight. On you, he's absolutely fixated on your tits and thighs. He loves leaving marks there, claiming you as his, and will spend hours kissing your inner thighs before he munches on your pussy. He also loooooves grabbing your tits as you're in cowgirl, they're his favourite thing to look at, his eyes light up when he sees you in a low cut top. "These pretty n perfect tits belong to me, hm?" he'll growl against your skin as his fingers trace the marks he's left behind.
CUM, anything to do with cum, basically
Alfie is possessive about his cum, he sees marking you with it as claiming territory. His favorite is finishing inside you, watching it drip out afterward, which he'll often push back in with his fingers. "Look at that, angel. All mine," he'll murmur, his green eyes dark with satisfaction. He also loves finishing on your face n tits (once again, he just loves em), making you keep your eyes open as he covers you. The sight of you marked with his cum drives him absolutely wild, and he'll often take pictures on his phone (with your permission) to admire later when he's away from you in america or on boys trips.
DIRTY SECRET, pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs
Alfie secretly loves when you "accidentally" send him nudes while he's recording YouTube videos. The risk of accidentally showing them on the pod with all the different camera angles or having to abruptly end a video because you've sent him something that makes him hard gets him off like nothing else. He'll rush through filming, sometimes making obvious mistakes in his videos that his fans comment on, all because he's desperate to get home and punish you for distracting him. "You're gonna pay for that when I get home, girl," he'll text back, already adjusting himself in his pants.
EXPERIENCE, how experienced are they? do they know what they doing?
Despite his confident exterior, Alfie's experience was somewhat limited before you mostly one night stands that never went anywhere. But he's a natural, with an understanding of bodies and what makes people tick. He learns quickly, studying your reactions. "Tell me what you like, bunny. I wanna be the best you've ever had," he'll say, genuinely wanting to please you despite his dominant nature. His gym work means he has excellent body awareness and stamina, which more than makes up for his initial lack of technique.
FAVORITE POSITION, this goes without saying
Cowgirl is Alfie's absolute favorite, he loves the view of your tits bouncing with every roll of your hips. The power dynamic of you riding him, taking your pleasure while he lies back and watches, drives him absolutely insane. He'll grip your waist, helping you grind down on him, his thighs flexing as he meets your movements. "That's it, darling, ride me just like that," he'll growl, his green eyes glued to your chest. He can't resist reaching up to palm your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples until they're sensitive. His second favorite is reverse cowgirl, not just for the view of your arse, but because he can reach around to play with your clit while watching your back arch in pleasure, still getting a side view of your tits with each thrust.
GOOFY, are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.
Alfie maintains his dominant persona most of the time, but his normal personality occasionally shines through with unexpected jokes or commentary mid thrust. He once stopped mid sex to say "You're such a.. a fucken rocket n shit" before continuing as if nothing happened. These moments of humor, though rare, show the playful side beneath his dominant exterior and always leave you laughing even as he's stretching you open. He loves it when you laugh with him during sex, finding it incredibly intimate that you can share these moments together.
HAIR, how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.
Alfie keeps his body hair natural but trimmed, the brunette hair on his chest trails down to a thick thatch at the base of his cock, which he keeps neat but not completely bare. He loves it when you run your fingers through his chest hair or tug on it during sex. "Like that, girl? Pull it harder," he'll groan, his green eyes rolling back as you grip the hair on his chest. He's proud of his masculine appearance and wouldn't dream of waxing or shaving completely, finding it unnatural (as we know from snap)
INTIMACY, how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect
Despite his dominant, often rough approach to sex, Alfie is surprisingly romantic in his own way. He'll pause mid-thrust to kiss you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth as he murmurs how much he needs you. "You're mine, angel. All fucking mine," he'll say, his voice thick with emotion as he looks into your eyes. After particularly intense sessions, he'll hold you close, tracing patterns on your skin as he talks about your future together, his usual performance voice softening as he shares these vulnerable moments with you.
JACK OFF, masturbation headcanon
Alfie masturbates frequently when you're not around (i mean... come on), often to the videos you've made together or the pictures you've sent him. He loves edging himself for hours, watching porn that reminds him of you while imagining all the things he'll do to you next time he sees you. "Can't stop thinking about your tits n bein in you" he'll groan as he strokes himself, his muscular chest heaving. He's particularly loud when he masturbates alone, knowing no one can hear him as he calls out your name and talks dirty to the empty room.
KINK, one or more of their kinks
Alfie has a serious praise kink - he loves being told how good he's making you feel, how big he is, how no one's ever fucked you like this before. It inflates his ego and makes him even more dominant. "Tell me how good it feels, angel. Tell me how much you love my cock," he'll demand, his green eyes burning into yours as he drives into you. He's also into breath play, not choking, but covering your mouth or nose briefly to control your breathing, loving the way you look at him with complete trust as he takes charge of your very breath.
LOCATION, favorite places to do the do
Alfie's favorite place is definitely your shared bed, he likes the comfort of being in your space. But he gets a thrill from semi-public places, particularly places like pubs or bathrooms n shit. "Wanna fuck you right here. Mark this place as ours," he'll growl, bending you over the sink, The risk of someone walking in, combined with the memories of him and his mates mucking about, makes these encounters particularly intense for both of you.
MOTIVATION, what turns them on, gets them going
Nothing turns Alfie on faster than you challenging his dominance, even playfully. If you tease him about something or refuse to do what he says, his green eyes darken and his jaw clenches. "Think you're funny, don't you, bunny? We'll see who's laughing when I'm spanking your arse red," he'll growl, already hard at the thought of putting you back in your place. He's also incredibly turned on by you wearing his clothes, particularly his hoodies or t-shirts, which look baggy and sexy on your smaller frame.
NO, something they wouldn't do, turn offs
Alfie has a hard line against sharing you with anyone else, he's intensely possessive and the thought of you with another person, even if he's involved, makes him so upset. "I don't give a fuck, you don't belong to anyone but me? you know that, so why even try suggest otherwise?," he'll growl if you even joke about a threesome. He also won't do anything that truly degrades you, while he loves calling you names during sex (my dirty little slut etc.) and being rough, if he senses you're genuinely hurt or upset, he immediately stops, his dominant persona dropping as he checks on you with genuine concern.
ORAL, preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.
Alfie absolutely loves receiving oral (slops activated) - he'll grip your hair, controlling the pace as he fucks your mouth, watching with dark eyes as you take him deeper. "That's it, darlin. Take it all, mmph good girl," he'll groan, his thighs tensing. But he's equally enthusiastic about giving oral, loving the way you taste and the sounds you make when his tongue is inside you. He'll spend hours between your legs, his beard goatee thing leaving marks on your inner thighs as he brings you to orgasm again and again with his talented mouth.
PACE, are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.
Alfie typically favors a fast, rough pace, he loves the sound of skin slapping against skin, the way your body jolts with each powerful thrust. His build means he can maintain this pace for what seems like hours, his muscular arms and legs working tirelessly as he drives into you. But when he's feeling particularly possessive or romantic, he'll slow down to an almost torturously sensual rhythm, making you feel every inch of him as he looks deep into your eyes. "Look at me while I'm inside you, angel. Wanna see those pretty eyes when I make you cum," he'll murmur, his usual accent softening as he connects with you on a deeper level.
QUICKIE, their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.
Alfie isn't a fan of quickies, for him, sex is an experience to be savored, not rushed through. He needs time to work you up properly, to tease you until you're begging for it, to explore every inch of your body. "Why rush something this good? Got all the time in the world to worship your body," he'll say when you suggest a quickie before he has to leave for a recording session. That said, if he's particularly worked up from teasing you all day, he might pull you into a bathroom for a rough, quick fuck, but he'll make it up to you later with an extended session when he gets home.
RISK, are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.
Alfie is always down to experiment, especially if it involves pushing boundaries or exploring power dynamics. He loves trying new positions, new locations, new toys, anything that keeps things exciting between you. He's particularly interested in light bondage and impact play, loving the way you respond when he restrains your hands or when he spanks your arse. "Tell me if it's too much. But I think you like it when I'm rough with you," he'll say, testing your limits as you squirm beneath him. He's always attentive to your reactions, stopping immediately if he senses you're uncomfortable despite his dominant nature.
STAMINA, how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?
Thanks to his build and high sex drive, Alfie has incredible stamina, he can easily go multiple rounds without needing much of a break between them. He'll often set aside entire evenings just for sex, planning to fuck you in every room of the flat, in every position he can think of. "Gonna make it so you can't walk straight tomorrow, girl. Mark my words," he'll grin as he carries you to the bedroom for round three. He particularly loves edging both you and himself, prolonging the pleasure until you're both begging for release, then pushing you over the edge again and again until you're completely spent.
TOYS, do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?
Alfie isn't much for toys, keeping only a single, sleek vibrator in his nightstand. He rarely brings it out, and when he does, it's more for a specific purpose than for regular play. For Alfie, nothing compares to the feeling of you, the warmth of your body, the way you grip him, the sounds you make when he's inside you. He finds toys distracting, a poor substitute for the real connection he craves. "Why would you want plastic when you have me?" he'll murmur, his voice low and possessive as he pushes the toy aside to pull you closer. He wants to be the one to make you fall apart, to watch your face as he brings you to the edge with his hands, his mouth, his cock. The idea of using a toy on himself is a complete turn-off; he has no interest in detached, mechanical pleasure when he could be buried deep inside you instead. For Alfie, sex is about intimacy and connection, and toys just get in the way of that.
UNFAIR, how much they like to tease
Alfie is an absolute master of teasing, he loves working you up until you're desperate for him, then drawing out the anticipation even longer. He'll touch you over your clothes for what feels like hours, his fingers tracing patterns on your thighs as he whispers exactly what he plans to do to you. "Look how wet you are already. Haven't even touched you properly yet," he'll grin, his green eyes dark with satisfaction at your desperate whimpers. He particularly loves teasing you in public, a hand on your thigh under the table at dinner, a whispered promise in your ear at a party, knowing you have to wait until you're home for him to follow through.
VOLUME, how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.
Alfie is surprisingly loud during sex - he's not one to hold back, groaning and grunting with each thrust, his deep voice echoing through the room. He's particularly vocal when he's close to cumming. "Fuck, reader. So tight. Gonna fill you up," he'll growl, his muscular chest heaving as he pounds into you. He loves hearing you be loud too, encouraging you to scream his name as he fucks you. "Let the neighbors hear who's making you feel this good. Want everyone to know you're mine," he'll demand, his green eyes burning with possessive pride.
WILD CARD, a random headcanon for the character
Despite his dominant persona, Alfie has a secret soft spot for after-sex cuddles - he loves being the big spoon, wrapping his muscular arms around you as you both drift off to sleep. He'll often trace patterns on your skin, his voice softening as he murmurs about his day or asks about yours. "Never thought I'd have this, you know? Someone like you who puts up with my shit," he'll admit quietly, his green eyes vulnerable in the dim light. These moments of intimacy are rare but precious, showing the loving man beneath the exterior.
X-RAY, let's see what's going on under those clothes
Alfie is big, thick and long, with a slight curve that hits all the right spots inside you. he has prominent veins that you can feel when he's inside you. His balls are big, swinging with each thrust as he pounds into you. "Like what you see? This is all yours," he'll grin when he catches you staring, already hardening under your gaze. He's particularly proud of his size, loving the way you stretch to accommodate him, the way your eyes widen when he first enters you.
YEARNING, how high is their sex drive?
Alfie has an incredibly high sex drive, he's ready to go at virtually any time, any place. He thinks about sex constantly, his mind always wandering to you and the things he wants to do to you. He'll often get hard at random times during the day, thinking about your last encounter or fantasizing about the next one. "Can't stop thinking about that tight pussy. Need to be inside you again," he'll text you in the middle of the day, already adjusting himself in his pants. He particularly loves morning sex, waking you up with his mouth or fingers, his morning wood pressing against you as he murmurs dirty promises in your ear.
Zzz, how quickly they fall asleep afterwards
Alfie typically falls asleep quickly after sex, but not before making sure you're comfortable and satisfied. He'll clean you up gently, get you water if you need it, then pull you close against his muscular chest. "Sleep now, angel. Need you rested for round two in the morning," he'll murmur, his green eyes already heavy with sleep as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. He's a deep sleeper, his muscular body completely relaxed as he holds you close, his soft snores the only sound in the room as you both drift off in each other's arms.
John Tucker who has a cowboy hat hung above his bed, because if you’re gonna ride a cowboy he might as well dress the part.
John Tucker x Fem!reader
There’s three games you play one of you wearing the cowboy hat…under no circumstances can you let it fall off your head whilst you ride John.
“Don’t fall off the bull, sweet thing” he says, bucking his hips and slamming his dick into your cunt. You squeal, not expecting the sudden fullness, but you’re bouncing on top of him chasing his movements in hopes of meeting his thrusts and taking him deeper.
You might be on top riding the waves, but John Tucker has all of the control. One of his hands are wrapped around your wrists and anchored to his chest, his heart beat drumming against your palm all so he can show how much you get him going. The cowboy hats askew, his finger flicking the rim and his dick slips out of you, slick with your mixed arousal between your legs and his body beneath you. Your stomach tightens, thighs squeezing around his hips in a bid to keep yourself on top on him as if you haven’t got a weight on his chest.
“Be careful there,” he smirks, the usual kind nickname going unsaid as you rock back and forth over his shaft. A groan breaks free from his parted lips and he arches his back off the mattress, eyes fluttering shut for a breath. His other hand trails down the column of your throat, fingers tracing your collar bone and the valley between your breasts. He detours his wanted path, rolling your nipple and twisting it between the pads of his fingers. He mimics your moan, gaze flitting to your lips. Your chest’s sweaty, sticky, but his touch trails after the bead of sweat rolling down your stomach. A shiver trembling down your spine. His palm cups your pussy, smiling as you grind down on his hand for a bit of friction.
John’s already coaxed two orgasms out of you. He pulls you back down on his cock, warmth burning between your legs and your stomach tightening. The hat’s still on, barely. Your boys close, his movements slow and timed, both of his hands now settling on your hips. You keep your palms on his chest not wanting to break your connection with him. John’s fingers press into the soft flesh of your hips, but your mind’s a haze, thighs trembling as you let him guide you. Let him take care of both of your releases, your forehead resting on his shoulder as he rides out his own.
He slips out of you as soon as you remove the cowboy hat, arm stretched over the mattress as he you curl into his side. Your ear listening to his steady heartbeat, his lips pressing to your hairline. He smoothes his palm up and down your leg, hooking it over his hip so he can massage the tender and sore aches of being on top of him. All whilst you eye the hat on the floor.
The second game is can John eat you out with the hat still on? If it falls off his head, he don’t get no head.
The third being your favourite though. How long before the cowboy hat can fall off the bedpost?? You’ve still not beat your best time yet, but you’re more than game to try again. Might even drag it out to do over and over again…
Summary: You break up with Tucker because you are tired of being a secret, but when another guy hits on you at Malone's, he snaps and publicly claims you in front of his entire team.
Angst to fluff? But definitely Angst
Warnings: spoiler alert if you didn't read the books!, cursing, violence
A/N: Well, this would probably fit book Tucker rather than TV Show Tucker, buuuut. Truth is we didn't really see much of Tuck this season. Anyway, I hope you like it. Feedback is much appreciated! Take care of yourselves xx also, @airgoddess maybe you can enjoy this in the meantime
Words: 2.6k
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It was never supposed to be this fucking complicated.
John Tucker, Briar U's laidback forward was the kind of guy who took everything in stride. He had a heart of gold, infinite patience, and a Texas drawl that could melt the panties off a saint. But his life had recently become a massive, tangled wreck. Earlier in the year, a brief hookup with Sabrina James had resulted in an unexpected pregnancy. Tucker, being the thoroughly decent, stand-up guy he was, stepped up immediately, vowing to support Sabrina and the baby every step of the way.
But then, he fell in love with you.
Because of the fragile situation with Sabrina, you and Tucker had decided to keep your relationship off the radar. You didn’t want to add to her panic, nor did you want to deal with the relentless, vicious gossip of the Briar campus. But what started as a temporary protective measure had morphed into a heavy, suffocating weight. You were sick of hiding. Sick of slipping out the back door of the hockey house before his roommates could catch you doing the walk of shame. You were tired of feeling like a dirty little secret, and the brutal strain had caused a constant, underlying friction between you two.
Which led to the explosive argument in his bedroom just hours before the team’s victory party.
You were pacing the length of his floor, your arms crossed tightly over your chest, while he sat on the edge of his neatly made bed. He was watching you with those heavy-lidded, deep brown eyes, his large hands resting loosely on his spread knees. His unnatural stillness only fueled the anxious, clawing fire burning in your chest.
"I can't do this anymore, Tuck," you said, your voice trembling as you snatched your jacket off his desk chair. "I'm fucking done. We're done."
He went utterly, terrifyingly still.
"Come here, darlin'," Tucker commanded, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that usually turned your knees to absolute water.
"No." You zipped up your jacket with shaking fingers, refusing to look at him because you knew if you met his gaze, your resolve would snap in half. "I mean it this time. I am so fucking exhausted. I feel like a ghost in my own relationship."
Tucker pushed himself off the bed. His massive, muscular frame seemed to swallow the small space of the room as he stepped directly in front of his closed door, effectively trapping you inside. His dark auburn hair was a messy halo, and beneath his calm exterior, his warm brown eyes were flashing with a dangerous mix of panic and pure, unadulterated male stubbornness.
"We are not doing this, Y/N," he said slowly, his Texas drawl thick with absolute refusal. "We are not breaking up."
"I am the goddamn side piece in my own relationship!" you yelled, the frustration boiling over as hot tears finally spilled down your cheeks. "I know you have to be there for Sabrina and the baby. I want you to be there for them. You're a good man, Tuck, the best I know. But I can't be your hidden fuck-buddy anymore. I can't watch you rush out of the room to take her calls, or drop my hand the second we step outside because someone might see us. It hurts too much. It's tearing me apart."
A muscle feathered in his tight jaw. Tucker closed the distance between you in two long strides. You tried to step back, but his large, callused hands gripped your shoulders, hauling you gently but firmly against the hard wall of his chest. You were instantly grounded in his signature scent of sandalwood and citrus, a scent that felt so much like home it made a broken sob rip from your throat.
"You listen to me," he rasped, his voice vibrating against your collarbone as he lowered his head to look you dead in the eye. "You are not second place. You are never second place. You are everything to me."
"Tuck, please—"
"No, you're going to let me speak." He brought one of his large hands up to cup your cheek, his rough thumb catching a tear before it could fall. "I know it's hard. I know I'm asking a hell of a lot of you to wait for me to sort this mess out. I hate that I'm the goddamn reason you're crying right now. But I am a patient man, Y/N. I will wait out any storm to keep you."
You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head as you pressed your hands against his chest, trying to physically push away the one thing you wanted most in the world. Beneath your palms, his heart was hammering wildly against his ribs.
"You have to," you whispered, your voice cracking. "Go figure out your life. Be a dad. Do what you have to do without worrying about keeping me happy in the shadows."
You pulled out of his grip, intentionally ignoring the raw, devastated look that flashed across his handsome face. You reached around him, your hand wrapping tightly around the cool metal of the doorknob.
"I'm going to be at Malone's tonight," you said, your voice remarkably steady despite the fact that your heart was breaking into a million jagged pieces. "I promised Allie and Hannah I'd celebrate the win with them. But don't look for me, I need space."
You slipped past him, yanking the door open. You left him standing there in the middle of his bedroom, his jaw clenched tight and his broad chest heaving, his heart full of absolute, uncompromising refusal to accept that this was the end.
By the time you pushed your way into Malone's, your hands were still shaking.
And the absolute worst part of being best friends with Allie and Hannah? It meant you were automatically dragged into the Briar hockey team's inner circle.
They had commandeered the massive, wraparound leather booth in the back corner, and you were squished right into the middle of the loud, rowdy chaos. Garrett, Dean, Logan, and Fitzy were practically shouting over the music, toasting their shutout win and passing around pitchers of beer.
And sitting directly across the wooden table from you was John Tucker.
He hadn't said a single word since you sat down. He just sat rigidly on the cracked vinyl cushion, a half-empty bottle of Miller gripped in his large hand. For Tucker, the booming bass of the jukebox and the chaotic crowd seemed to fade entirely into white noise. The only thing in sharp focus was you. Every time you dared to glance up, those heavy-lidded, dark brown eyes were already locked on you, burning with a heavy, volatile intensity that made it impossible for you to draw a full breath.
You felt like you were bleeding out invisibly. You’d done it. You’d looked him in the eye, told him you were done being his dirty little secret, and walked away. Now, forced to sit so close to him, it felt like you’d carved out your own heart with a dull knife.
Hannah nudged your shoulder, shoving a shot of cheap tequila into your hand. "Drink up! You look like you're at a funeral, Y/N/N, not a party."
Allie leaned in over Dean's shoulder, her blonde hair catching the harsh neon light. "Seriously, what's going on with you? You've been miserable all week."
You forced a smile that didn't reach your eyes and downed the shot. The liquor clawed down your throat, "Just tired. Let's go dance."
You dragged them out of the booth and shoved your way onto the small, packed dance floor near the jukebox. The music was deafening, the heavy bass vibrating through the soles of your shoes and rattling your ribs. You squeezed your eyes shut, letting yourself get lost in the chaotic, grinding rhythm of the crowd. You laughed loudly with Allie and Hannah, desperately trying to project the image of a girl having the time of her life. But all you were really doing was trying to ignore the heavy, scorching gaze you could feel burning into your skin from across the room.
Tucker was watching you.
Usually, he was the anchor of his friend group—observant, laidback, the quiet guy who kept his head and his temper when everyone else lost theirs. Tonight, he felt like a coiled spring pulled back so tight it was about to snap.
Every breath he took felt like inhaling broken glass. You’d told him you were done. You’d looked at him with tears in your beautiful eyes and told him you couldn't be his second-place secret anymore. And the worst, most agonizing part? He knew you were absolutely right.
His eyes tracked your every movement through the strobe lights. You looked fucking breathtaking—flushed, wild, and utterly out of his reach—and he wasn't the only one who noticed.
A tall guy from the lacrosse team slid up behind you on the dance floor, his hands hovering dangerously close to your hips. Another guy, some frat bro in a backward cap, was trying to catch your eye, shouting some garbage pickup line over the loud music.
Tucker’s jaw locked so hard his teeth ground together. A dark, ugly possessiveness flared in his chest, incinerating every ounce of his southern patience.
They saw a beautiful, single girl looking to get wrecked and have a good time. They didn't know you belonged to him. They didn't know the soft, needy sounds you made when he sucked marks into your neck, or how perfectly your body bowed up to meet his. And it was his own damn fault they didn't know. He had kept you in the shadows to protect Sabrina's privacy and manage the baby drama, but in doing so, he had left you completely unprotected. He’d made you feel like you didn't matter. He'd practically served you up on a silver platter to every thirsty dirtbag in Malone's.
He watched, every thick muscle in his massive frame going violently tense, as the lacrosse player leaned in, his mouth entirely too close to your ear. Tucker saw you politely step back, your posture stiffening in clear discomfort, but the guy persisted. The asshole actually closed the distance again, flashing a cocky grin and reaching out to boldly wrap a hand around your waist.
That was it. Patience was officially dead.
Tucker’s grip on his beer bottle tightened until his knuckles turned stark white, the thick glass groaning dangerously under the pressure. With a harsh, ragged exhale, he slammed the bottle down on the sticky wooden table so hard the remaining liquid foamed over the top.
"Whoa, Tuck, where are you going?" Garrett asked, looking completely startled by the sudden, aggressive movement from the calmest guy on the roster.
Tucker didn't answer. He didn't even look at his captain. He was already moving, his broad shoulders cutting through the crowded bar, his dark eyes locked dead on the man touching what was his.
He parted the sweaty, grinding crowd like Moses parting the Red Sea, his massive frame shoving through the bodies without a single apology. The rational, endlessly patient part of his brain—the part that always played the long game, the part that had agreed to keep this relationship off the radar to deal with Sabrina's baby drama—was dead and buried.
Fuck the secret. Fuck the gossip. Tucker didn't care about the whispers, the rumors, or the stares that were bound to follow. He only cared about the fact that the woman he was completely, irrevocably in love with was slipping through his fingers, and half the bar was trying to swoop in and take his place.
You spun around, desperate to step away from the persistent lacrosse player whose hands were getting way too bold, but before you could tell the guy to back off, a blur of black and silver stepped into your line of vision.
You gasped as the lacrosse player was suddenly violently ripped away from you.
Tucker’s massive, callused hand was fisted in the collar of the guy’s shirt, lifting him nearly off his feet.
"Hey, what the hell, man?" the lacrosse player sputtered, throwing his hands up. He puffed out his chest, trying to look tough.
The words had barely left the guy's mouth before Tucker’s fist cracked across his jaw.
The sickening thud cut through the immediate vicinity of the dance floor. The lacrosse player stumbled backward, crashing into a nearby table and taking a couple of empty beer bottles down with him. The crowd gasped, forming an immediate, wide circle around you, but Tucker didn't even flinch. He stood over the groaning guy, his broad chest heaving, his fists clenched tight at his sides.
"Stay the fuck away from my girl," Tucker growled, his voice dropping to a low, lethal vibration.
The guy scrambled back, holding his bleeding jaw, and frantically nodded before disappearing into the crowd.
Tucker didn't spare him a second glance. He turned to you, the violence in his frame immediately shifting into a raw, desperate need. Large, familiar hands instantly gripped your hips, hauling you flush against his hard chest.
"Tuck—" you breathed, your heart doing a wild, violent somersault against your ribs.
"Mine," he murmured fiercely.
He pulled you seamlessly into the heavy rhythm of the music. His hands slid from your hips to trail possessively up your spine, sending a shiver of blistering heat straight to your core. He spun you around, pressing your back flat against his broad chest, his thick arms wrapping securely around your waist as he swayed with you.
He could feel you trembling, feel the exact moment the adrenaline bled out of your muscles and you melted against him. This was where you belonged. Not hiding in the shadows. Not sneaking out the back door of the hockey house. It was an undeniably intimate, blatantly sexual claim, loud and clear for the entire fucking bar to see.
Over by the booths, the reaction was instantaneous. Dean’s jaw practically unhinged, his drink freezing halfway to his mouth. Garrett actually choked on his beer, coughing violently while Logan thumped him on the back. Hannah and Allie exchanged wide-eyed, completely stunned looks. John Tucker, the quietest, most reserved guy on the roster, had just knocked a guy out and put on a very public, very unapologetic show.
Tucker spun you back around to face him, completely oblivious to the shocked stares of his teammates. He brought one hand up to cup your cheek, his rough thumb brushing over your trembling bottom lip, parting it slightly.
"I don't care who sees," Tucker said, his voice fierce, unwavering, and laced with absolute certainty. "I don't care how complicated it is. I am not hiding you anymore, Y/N. And I am sure as hell not letting you break up with me."
Before you could formulate a response—before your brain could even process the magnitude of what he had just done—he dipped his head and captured your lips in a searing, breathless kiss.
It wasn't a gentle, hidden kiss in the dark. It was a bold, desperate, world-stopping declaration. He kissed you like a starving man, his tongue parting your lips and claiming your mouth with a consuming, dominant heat that made your knees buckle. He caught your weight effortlessly, pulling your hips flush against the hard ridge of his arousal, showing his teammates, your friends, and everyone else in Malone's exactly who you belonged to.
When he finally pulled back, you were both breathless, your chests heaving together in the smoky air.
"You're my girl," he whispered fiercely, resting his forehead against yours. His brown eyes locked onto yours to make sure you understood every single word. "And nobody is going to steal you away from me."
alfie buttle x reader
summary: you and a stranger are forced to live together for a week with no contact to the outside world
notes: someone help me with a team name pls
trapped masterlist
Day One
11:45 AM
Your suitcase was heavy and way too full, the zip was threatening to re-open with every stair you climbed, the apartment building was large and full of cameras but you expected nothing less from the sidemen
Your friend Tobi had begged for you to be in their most recent video due to someone pulling out last minute, all you knew about said video was living with a stranger for a week and competing with 2 other duos to complete the most challenges successfully earning points for your team
You weren't a stranger to sidemen videos, you'd been in multiple over the years, leading to a major growth in your YouTube channel, where you posted weekly vlogs about your day to day life
"Thought you guys were meant to be loaded" you deadpanned the camera nearby as you lugged your suitcase up the stairs "cant afford a bloody lift"
You eventually reached the floor of your flat for the week, the door labelled 208 was unlocked, thankfully as you hadn't received any keys
The living room was large enough for a 3 seater cream sofa with a small coffee table placed in front and a large tv which seemed to have no remote
"You definitely skimped out on this one" you walked towards the kitchen opening the draws and cupboards to see 2 bowls, 2 plates and 2 pairs of knives and forks "definitely a second channel vid"
You continued to snoop before the letter box in the front door opened and shut with a clang dropping a single envelope on the floor, you hurried over quick to read the secret document
The front of the envelope read 'for readers eyes only' you quickly ripped it open not caring to save the envelope
"Reader, your new roomate will be arriving in 2 minutes, your first challenge is to scare them upon arrival" you laughed at the note before quickly moving to behind the front door where they would enter it was a boring place to hide but it was the first place you saw
The wait for the door to open felt way longer than it was due to the anticipation, you didn't know who to expect, you knew majority of the people in the uk YouTube scene partially due to how many sidemen videos you had appeared in
When the door opened you barely had chance to look at the figure entering before you screamed making them jump
"Fuck off" a large man said holding his hand over his heart "nearly gave me a heart attack" his voice was rough compared to yours
"Sorry" you laughed "it was my first challenge" your voice was sincere despite your laughter at his reaction "i'm reader" you held out your hand finally taking the mans apparence in
He obviously worked out regularly, he was a large man with his curly brown hair cut recently into a mullet, and a pair of coloured sunglasses covering his eyes, you wouldn't lie he was very attractive
"AB" he responded taking your hand and making a weak attempt at eye contact without blushing "have you been here long?" he questioned moving to look around the flat
"Just got here, cupboards are practically empty" you warned as he moved to the kitchen, leaving his suitcase near the front door next to yours
"It's nice though" he spoke turning back around to you "bit small for the sidemen" he laughed opening the fridge to see its empty
"That's what I was thinking" you smiled "so what kind of content do you make?" you asked wanting to get to know the man more
"Just do vlogs really" he laughed to himself
"Me too" you exclaimed "this is gonna be easy we've got so much in common already"
"Have you seen the bedrooms yet?" AB asked walking down the hallway you'd yet to discover
"No I've only had time to look around the kitchen" you confessed following him to the other side of the flat
The two of you stood outside 3 doors one labelled 'diary room' and when you opened the other two you found a bathroom and a bedroom containing a double bed
"One room" AB spoke slowly unsure of what to do in the awkward environment "one bed"
"Thats one way to break the tension" you laughed feeling slightly nervous to share a bed with the 6 foot man
~
12:15 PM
Later in the diary room you sat there in silence, looking around the room unsure what to do, AB or Alfie as he said you could call him had already done his first interview so now it was your turn
"Reader, how do you like the flat" a voice spoke making you jump a little
"It's very nice, were lacking a bit on basic necessities like food" you shifted in the chair trying to get comfortable "but overall, its nice"
"How do you like your new roommate?" the feminine robotic voice asked its tone remaining consistent
"He's great, seems like a good guy, im presuming we have 2 very different fan bases which will be interesting considering we do similar things" you truthfully looked into the camera, a smile making its way to your face
"Please return to the living room, your first challenge awaits"
~
12:25 PM
"AB and reader, this is your first official challenge together" you read from the card on the kitchen counter "you will be competing against the 2 other duos, so you need to try your best" you slid the card over to AB allowing him to read the rest
"You will be participating in the blind, deaf challenge, the blind participant must do all physical aspects of the challenge, the team who wins will receive 3 points" he read out making you laugh "please open your front door"
"Sounds like a torture method" you moved to the front door finding numerous ingredients, noise cancelling headphones and a blindfold
"I'm shit at baking" Alfie confessed holding his hands up "so i'll let you be in charge" he stepped back
"Okay, so do you wanna be blindfolded, so I can see?" you asked handing him the blindfold
"How the fuck do you tie this?" he struggled holding the black cloth around his eyes struggling to secure it on
"Lean down" you giggled moving to help the man
He complied quickly moving down to help you reach near his eyes
"You're actually tiny" Alfie told you now completely blind after you tied the back of the cloth into a knot
"Compared to you, who isn't" you organised all ingredients out onto the counter before placing your headphone on top of your head "I presume we're suppose to be making cupcakes" you assumed looking at what's in front of you
"Okay I can do that" AB hyped himself up forgetting you cant hear him "what do I do now?" he waited for your response "oh fuck, you cant hear" he laughed at himself
"So" you started talking at a volume way too loud for unprotected ears "im gonna hand you the ingredients i just need you to pour it into the bowl in front of you"
"Can do" he responded taking the first packet off you and tipping it upside down
"Great, that was really good" you praised "okay now the milk, be careful yeah" you grabbed his hand to carefully pass him the liquid, the constant contact with you made his face flush not use to this much physical touch "now the egg, can I help do you think that's allowed?" you questioned not wanting him to smash the egg everywhere
"not sure girl" alfie responded forgetting again you cant hear
"ill just guide your hand" you spoke taking his hand again and gently cracking the egg on the side of the bowl "were doing so good" you held your hand up to high five the man eventually noticing he cant see and moving his hand to hit yours "mixing time" without your guidence alfies hands plunged into the unmixed dough
"Ugh, that's a horrible feeling when you cant see it" he complained with a laugh
Eventually everything was mixed to your standards and you and Alfie had somehow managed to put the mixture into a tray and now you had to put it in the oven
"Okay move this way" you placed your hands on Alfie's waist trying to manoeuvre him around the kitchen "stop" he stopped moving in front of the oven and you lowered him till he placed it inside "done" you took your headphones off and he removed his blindfold
"That was easy" he high-fived you again "we've got this in the bag"
"I don't even know what the challenge was, fastest?" you questioned as it wasn't mentioned on the card
"We were rapid to be fair"
~
12:45 PM
The cupcakes had come out the oven perfectly, you jumped up and down in happiness
"AB please come to the diary room" the voice from above spoke and he swiftly moved to the room down the hallway whilst you moved to sit on the sofa
"The smell is making me hella hungry" you admitted to no one in particular hearing your stomach rumble
"AB how did you find the challenge?" the voice asked and AB sighed
"Gyal got a bit touchy, not that I minded she's an absolute rocket" he confessed holding his hands up jokingly
"Where do you think you've placed?"
"Easy number one" Alfie admitted "reader was great at directing i was great at listening for once, we had great teamwork"
~
1:20 PM
The two of you had to wait presumably for the other teams to finish their baking, you passed time by talking about your lives outside of social media
"What would you say is your favourite thing?" you asked looking at the man sat next to you lounging on the sofa "like ever"
"Uh" he thought about it for a minute "probably my house down in the woods, called the grotto, i love it" he smiled at you "white monster is very close second though"
"That makes sense" you told him truthfully "you seem like a wilderness guy"
"Got a gaff in London too, don't rate it as much though" he explained before asking his question "if you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live?"
"I like Australia, I've always wanted to go" you answer quickly "its always hot and has sunny beaches"
"That's not a bad shout" Alfie responded before he was cut off by the voice
"Players, the results have been decided" you and Alfie both perked up "in last place with 1 point is Arthur tv and Danny Aarons" you and Alfie looked at each other with hope "in first place with 3 points is AB and reader, AB and reader combined with readers successful challenge earlier you have 4 points total"
"Oh my gosh" you exclaimed moving off the sofa to jump in celebration
"Lets fucking go"
~
3:25 PM
"I'm so hungry" you told Alfie as you leaned on the kitchen counter
"Yeah when are they actually giving us food" he took a sip from his water bottle "it must be like illegal not to right"
"Surely" you agreed "had to hand in our winning cupcakes" you laughed
~
4:05 PM
"AB and reader please open your front door" the voice told you and you quickly moved racing Alfie to the door
Obviously he reached it first the handle almost flying off the door as he pulled the door open
"Food" you exclaimed happily as AB brought a variety of foods forwards "this will last us ages" it was just the basics, nothing fancy or particularly exciting, you were just super hungry
"Could be a worse selection i guess" he deadpanned the camera "don't know how i'll survive without a monster"
~
7:55 PM
Later you and AB had both made seperate meals but ate together at the kitchen island
"I'm excited for the rest of the challenges" you told him whilst blowing on your tomato soup looking at him a few feet away
"They're gonna throw in some twists, gotta keep it entertaining" Alfie responded
"Yeah I agree" you started "we should have a team name"
"You think?" Alfie questioned with a laugh watching you take small spoonful's of your soup
"We could make a team banner and everything" your eyes glistened with the possibilities whilst AB just laughed with you "im serious, this flat is so boring, we need decorations especially if were here for a full week"
"I get you, it is a bit bleak in here" he looked to the plain walls around you trying to imagine some nice prints or paintings
~
8:30 PM
"Voice" you greeted in the diary room trying to squeeze onto the small chair with Alfie
"Is that what were calling her, voice?" he asked with a giggle
"What else would you call her?" you retorted "anyways, we would like to request lots of paper, pens, paint and a banner"
"A whole trees worth pretty please" Alfie added staring into the camera "this is the only thing we will ask for"
"Ever" you promised with uncertainty holding your pinkie out to the screen
"Your request will arrive tomorrow" the familiar robotic voice answered making you light up in excitement as you looked up towards the speaker
"This is gonna be so good" you promised Alfie finally looking back at him and watching him mog the camera "trust me"
"I'm trusting" AB moved to fix his hair in the reflection of the camera lens
~
9:00 PM
"Who are the other teams again?" you asked Alfie, you two back in the living room again, you were trying to prolong going to bed as the thought of the two of you sharing made you super nervous
"Bach and Beano" he tried to recall from what the voice said earlier in the day "tv and Danny Aarons"
"I think Arthur and Danny are the biggest threat to us" you confessed "they're probably being super serious about the competition, well Arthur anyway"
The video flashed back to the previous challenge and the absolute carnage caused by the two youtubers, screaming, shouting and the mess they ended up having to clean
"I'm the only girl" you realised "so we have to win or the sidemen hate women" you smirked into the camera making Alfie laugh
Due to the late time you had both changed into your night clothes, you had your cute satin pyjamas whilst Alfie was just in a white tank top and grey joggers, a deadly combo
"FYI I can only sleep shirtless" he confessed when your conversation flattened out making you raise your eyebrows
"Right okay" you responded "fuck I forgot there is only one bed" you looked up at him
"I can sleep here" he patted the sofa making you instantly wince, it wasn't the comfiest thing ever, his back would be ruined in the morning
"That's actual cruelty, we can just stay on opposite sides of the bed" you told him, not wanting to cause him any unnecessary pain
~
9:45 PM
"Why the flip have you only got one bed" you looked into the camera "I hope every team is getting this treatment"
"Every team is getting the same treatment" the robotic voice confirmed for you
The video moved from you to AB in the diary room
"Nah, this is bout to be bare awkward, known reader for what 10-12 hours and shes gonna see me with my mouth tape, games gone"
"You sure you don't want me on the sofa?" Alfie asked for what seemed like the thousandth time not wanting to make you uncomfortable, his shirt was long discarded but you weren't complaining
"I'm 100% sure" you confirmed moving onto the large bed "its big enough for 3 people anyway and we can do the barrier method" you giggled at your own suggestion grabbing two spare pillows and placing it in between you two
"Cant even hit a doom scroll" AB spoke the sadness apparent in his voice as he laid next to you in the bed "way too early for sleep"
"We can play a game" you suggested sitting up to look at him over the pillow "I brought monopoly in my case"
"As long as I can be the dog" he sat up, his hair at the back flattening down due to the pillow
~
11:45 PM
You were struggling to keep your eyes open as you moved his piece around the edge of the board, you were almost 2 hours in and neither of you were close to winning or losing
"Ha you owe me 150" Alfie told you leaning back on his elbows on the wooden floor, accentuating his arm muscles in the best way which your eyes immediately drifted to
"Ugh" you groaned leaning over to pass him the monopoly paper, a yawn leaving your mouth
"You tired?" his voice softened as he asked the question
"A bit" you responded passing him the dice fighting off another yawn
"We can go bed if you want?" his accent came through a bit more making you laugh and nod
User1: justice for Beano and Bach
ABvloggin: that guy with the blindfold mogs everyone
-> ArthurFrederick: thanks man
User2: reader is so cringe
-> User3: faceless profile shut up
User4: can't wait for next sunday!
DannyAarons: never thought making cupcakes was so hard
Blossom's florist, apparently the matchmaking capital of Leeds.
Alfie had never had much luck with girls. 18 and never had a girlfriend. Painfully single even after his recent glow up. Maybe he just hadn't been looking in the right place. He had entered Blossom's with the intention of buying flowers and nothing more, but the girl behind the counter caught his eye and got stuck in his brain. He was hooked.
She was much the same. In Leeds for University, not expecting to find a boy she would fall so hard for. How could she turn away this opportunity the universe had handed right to her? Neither of them in their home towns, they were both just in the right place at the right time. Fate as some may call it.
Who knew such a beautiful relationship could bloom over flowers and some awful flirting.
summary: alfie’s protective of you, regardless of whether you’re together or not
content: baby daddy!ab , talks of sex , ‘locker room’ talk (i think)
notes: just throwing this out there as a trial thing, sorry it’s kinda short and ended abruptly, i just wanna see how it goes xx
wc: 1,164
ALFIE NEVER THOUGHT you would’ve been a topic of discussion on the podcast. You were a secret that he didn’t want to risk outing, so he made sure to skate around the conversations of partners and dates.
It wasn’t even like you were dating, but you were something. Whether that was because you were the mother of his child or for an entirely different reason was up to you and him to decide, but it wasn’t up for public scrutiny or debate.
You made your own content, majorly around being a young mum and the support that was around for you at the time, things you found that helped and anymore big sister advice that people requested on, so you having a child wasn’t the secret, it was more so the fact that he was a dad — more importantly, the dad.
Chip and Cal knew, of course, but that was still something he felt unsure of.
They didn’t find out voluntarily. They’d come over unannounced once and seen a couple baby toys strewn about his floor since he’d had the weekend with the little one.
He made them swear they wouldn’t tell anyone, not Stan, not any of the other YouTube lot. Not even their fiancées.
The secrecy of him being a father and you being the mother was for a reason. For your own safety. He didn’t want any of his fans harassing you or your kid just purely based on the fact you had some relations to him that didn’t suit their narrative.
So when Max Khadar began speaking about you, Alfie couldn’t help but get a little bit protective.
“Nah, that girl … What's her name … ohhh what is it.” Max muttered, “The one with the kid …”
“There’s a lot of girls that have kids.” Chip laughed.
“Reader! Reader!” Max exclaimed as your name finally came to him.
“Oh, her, right.” Cal nodded, giving Alfie a quick side glance to try and get the gist of how the younger man was feeling.
He seemed to have zoned in on Max’s face, paying an intense amount of detail to every little expression the guest made.
“What about her?”
Max gaped as he looked at Cal, a smirk on his face, “Are you joking? Bro, she’s leng.”
The boys across from him began laughing hysterically at the tone in which Max had expressed his physical admiration for you. Alfie wasn’t as amused, but he gave a short chuckle to not look too out of place.
“You fancy her?” Cal pushed.
“Fancy? Bro, I wanna take her out. You know, nice dinner, then go back to hers— ahhh man, she’s so bad. So bad.”
“Why are you fantasising about her right now?” Chip guffawed, crossing one leg over the other.
“This is nothing.” Max waved his hands about dramatically, “Trust, I wanna give her another kid.”
“Alright, bro, chill.” Alfie laughed it off, trying to act like he was preventing his friend from getting into trouble rather than trying to shut him up before he said something that really made his blood boil.
“There’s nothing chill about her.” Max shook his head, “She is … ‘coz there’s levels to it. You’ve got fit,” He put his hand down before putting his other one way higher in the air, “And you’ve got leng. Reader is up here. Genuinely, I-I-I-“
Alfie began mimicking his stutter, slyly taking the piss out of him. Cal and Chip cackled.
“I would have bare kids with her. A whole football team. Trust, I’m on that.”
“You’re on that?” Cal challenged, “What, have you DM’d her?”
Max just shrugged.
“Have you actually?” Alfie asked, though his tone reeked of a serious energy.
So much for being low-key.
Alfie kind of hoped that you would’ve told him if someone from an adjacent circle had DM’d you in a romantic or sexual manner, but he could also recognise that just because you had a child together, didn’t mean that he had any claim over you.
Not unless he did something about that, of course.
“Why you pressed? Chill.” Max put a hand out in his direction, “Nah, I haven’t, but I will.”
“Swear she’s got a fella.” Alfie hummed, sitting back and playing with the wiring of his mic.
“Say wallahi.” His face fell dramatically.
“I dunno.” He shrugged, “I swore she made a video saying, like, ‘get ready with me for a date’.”
Yes, Alfie had most of your videos memorised, and yes that video was when you went around to his for dinner.
“Yeah … you’re on that.” Max gave him a knowing smile, “That was you, bro. She went on that date with you.”
“What?” Alfie laughed, pinching his nose bridge, “No she didn’t.”
“You’re the dad too, I know it.”
“Shut the fuck up, bro.”
Alfie was getting slightly annoyed.
It was one thing to assume you were dating, but to say he was the dad (joking, or not) was pushing it. He knew if one person theorised it, then another would, and another and another until it became a rumour that either of you would have to address.
When that episode dropped and all the clipping accounts got to work, it was a nightmare.
Having you send him one of the clips on Instagram and nothing else was enough to send his heart rate through the roof.
alfiebuttle: just ignore it x
yourusername: oh yeah i’ll just ignore people talking about wanting to shag me and talking about you being matilda’s dad
yourusername: thanks for standing up for me btw really liked that you let him say he wants to impregnate me
alfiebuttle: i didn’t know what to say without it being obvious x
alfiebuttle: are you actually mad? x
Alfie watched the text bubble appear, waver for a little while before disappearing completely. He sighed before typing another message.
alfiebuttle: i’m sorry x
yourusername: whatever, just do your damage control
He sent a quick red heart before going through the main clipping accounts and dropping a few nonchalant comments along the lines of ‘you guys are so dramatic😹’ or ‘chill i was just guessing’.
He didn't think it’d do much, but he felt that remaining completely silent was more guilty.
After he was done reposting and commenting, he dropped you another message
alfiebuttle: everything okay tonight? x
alfiebuttle: how is she x
yourusername: she’s ok, proper tired today x
When he received a picture of his two-year-old daughter sat on the floor, beaming up at the camera, his heart melted and a grin overtook his face without him being able to control it.
alfiebuttle: ❤️❤️❤️
alfiebuttle: did you take her out? x
yourusername: yeah, went park for a little bit ‘coz she kept fussing x
alfiebuttle: cute, lmk when u go next. i’ll come x
yourusername: what if someone sees x
alfiebuttle: shit yeah 🫤
yourusername: its alright u can come round for tea tomorrow, she’s been missing you x
toy flesh [explicit 18+] — [part 1] Clark randomly feels someone sitting on his dick even when he’s alone in his room. pretty much. part one for that magic toy prelude in my masterlist
. . .
Clark thinks it has to be a one off thing. Has to be. A wet dream too close to reality that somehow got his dick a little too wet. A hallucination manifested in some relaxing body tremors that felt so good it ultimately had him cumming everywhere in his pants, untouched, with the book he was nose-deep in forgotten while he lied down and stared at the wall in wide eyed, wide-mouthed shock. What just happened? How did that just happen?
He holds out hope that maybe he’ll get to touch himself and get rid of this pent up energy, get it flushed out of his system, not feel the same unexplained touch of someone else’s body—someone else’s flesh directly on top of him. While he goes about his daily routine before work he doesn’t ever stop looking down at his dick like he’s checking in on it. See if it falls off or grows a bigger brain of its own. Pulls his waistband out to take a confused peak while he’s scrubbing his teeth, foam running down the corner of his mouth. Watches his dick swing around and reluctantly roll upward and harden again from the memory even as he’s ironing the fine lines in his button down shirt.
It felt juvenile. It felt ridiculous.
What grown man couldn’t keep it down and stay soft for a dull eight hour work day?
He has to fondle himself to the memory again before he leaves, cum uncontrollably splashing just about everywhere even though he prepares himself with a tissue right at the tip. The shirt he spent nearly fifteen minutes ironing had to get thrown in the wash and replaced with something wrinkly and unkempt, but at least it was free of cum stains.
Clark sighs as the elevator door opens up to his office floor, trudging over to his desk and setting his briefcase down. Skips right over to their break room’s coffee maker to brew up a sugary full cup for the day ahead of him. Jimmy gave him a greeting with a rougher pat on the shoulder, jolting Clark in a reactionary shiver when he thinks back to being touched in bed by no one or something while he was withering all alone in his room.
He pushes his glasses up his scrunched up nose, letting out an almost disgruntled sounding hey.
Jimmy squints at him, noticing the offbeat attitude of his close friend and coworker. “You good, man? Sleep alright last night or did somebody take a hot piss in your Froot Loops?”
“Slept… slept fine, it’s just I’m kinda going through stuff right now. I don’t know.”
Clark swallows and stirs his steaming cup after dropping another sugar cube in. Jimmy pats his shoulder once again, trying to get Clark to meet his eyes with a tilt of his head.
“You know… maybe it’s about time.”
“What?”
“You know, dude, maybe it’s that time. Time for you to get yourself laid. I think it could help flush out some of these nerves in your system. You seem so tense. I know a few girls that would hop on that train, if you know what I mean.”
Clark turns beat red rather quickly, taking a long sip to gather his thoughts and come up with a response.
“Yeah you couldn’t have been any more direct actually. I… listen I understand, but it’s not that. Trust me, I’m getting… more than you think. I guess. Cause something like, something happened last night, I don’t even know how to explain it. And I liked….. it. It’s just really weird so maybe now’s not the time to discuss—“
Jimmy laughs a long, boyish giggle and slaps one of Clark’s broad shoulders, pulling Clark further aside into the corner with a look around for any coworkers meandering.
“Dude, I knew it. You found yourself a lady. You’ve been getting some and you haven’t been telling me. That’s really lame of you man, I thought our friendship had no barriers—“
“I haven’t met a— look, okay, it was weird, and I mean really really weird. I don’t know if you’ll understand it or if it’ll just sound crazy.”
“Whatever crazy thing you’re about to say, I’ve probably done crazier,” Jimmy assures with a knowing nod paired with a grin. “Trust me.”
“Uh, okay….” Clark clears his throat and lowers his voice, leaning down to Jimmy’s ear level. “Have—have you ever like, came untouched before? Felt someone…. down there…. even though no one else was in the room?”
Clark stares at Jimmy now, loosening the tie around his collar like he’s already broke out in another sweat just thinking about it. Wondering if it might happen again. If he has some odd guardian angel that likes to fuck him and look after him all at the same time.
“You mean you finished, no hands, completely dry? You’re living the dream. Should be more grateful. Why do you look so terrified right now.”
Clark closes his eyes and pinches his brows in a long sigh before nodding to Jimmy to follow him to the bathrooms after setting his coffee on his desk. With uneasy paranoia he peers down to check for any feet on the floor in the stalls before he continues.
“I… I don’t think you get it. It felt like someone literally rode me, like, put me inside them and came on my dick and everything. I wasn’t doing anything! Wasn’t even hard before it started happening, I was just reading. I don’t know how else to explain this or make it any clearer to you!”
Jimmy looks astounded after every word, awestruck with an open mouth. Even flashes of envy pass through his eyes while he chuckles and shakes his head. Typical Clark and his way of complicating things. Overthinking what truly sounded like a gift. “Sounds like a you’re being haunted by a friendly ghost that just wants to hop on that thing, dude. So what did it really feel like? And can I get one too?”
Clark closes his eyes and his mind goes back to last night. In the comfort of his soft sheets, legs sprawling out and taking over the entirety of his bed. How right when the plot of his novel started taking off he felt almost a tickle. A wiggle of what felt like a smooth, slithery tongue. It was unrecognizable when it started, like maybe he had an itch down there to scratch, or maybe some blood began randomly flowing down south.
When it became unmistakeable, too soft and wet to deny what was happening to him, he slammed his book shut with the bookmark in place and spread his legs wider, feeling the sweat breaking out. Feels his dick happily jump right into the warm invisible hole teasing his tip. He felt the hole clench down and struggle to take him all, slowly inching up and down like a bunny on top of what it could take. He clenched a fist at his side and held his dick up with a thumb, raising his hips gently into the heavenly heat. How the pace it had going stuttered when he did, probably in shock that he had more of himself to give.
Clark remembers crying with pleasure, pre cum getting drained out of him so effortlessly, so smoothly. Drool picks up on his tongue while he’s nearly going cross eyed, the pussy on top of him bouncing harder, bouncing faster—
“It feels— it feels unbelievable. I mean it was incredible,” Clark answers Jimmy’s question that had awkwardly hung in the air. “Haven’t felt anything like it before. Something might be seriously wrong with me.”
Jimmy raises a brow. “Watching too much porn? Just take a break. Meet a girl.”
Clark’s full body shivers, goosebumps now swarming up his arms and the back of his neck, making all the hairs there start to stand up. He feels an eager hand all the sudden grab onto his bare cock and slick their palm down, cold and wet like the hand had a puddle of lube to gloss him down.
If it hasn’t visibly shown up as a wet spot on his groin through his trousers yet, by the feeling of it it’ll start showing a dark spot soon. If he didn’t take his dick out it would surely start a puddle that would only dry as a fresh stain.
Clark takes a deep, shaky breath, turning over to grab onto the tile of the wall, resting his forehead against it and gripping like he’s engulfed in pain. Like his surroundings started spinning all around him.
“Woah, Clark. Dude. Take it easy. What’s happening?”
Jimmy gets closer to check on his friend but Clark can’t take it, shooing him off with a hurried no, it’s fine—just get out of here. I need a second. thanks!
“You sure you’ll be able to hold up the rest of today? You have enough leave. I’m sure Lois would understand—”
“Just, just…. I need to take a— I’ll take a ten, okay,” he whimpers, clutching onto the humiliating bulge growing so fast he already was showing a hefty print. “Maybe a fifteen. I can’t—I don’t know.” The hand stopped slicking up and down his cock and he feels it tease him by rubbing his length up and down a pearly wet slit, not yet having him enter.
He shoos Jimmy away and hurries to a stall, slamming it shut and locking it with his back to the door while his dick bobs around for more of her attention. Tingles sprout in his belly while his whole body starts to tense.
“Uh, okay,” Jimmy mutters. “Well I’ll leave you to it I guess? Here for you buddy. Don’t piss off your ghost girlfriend. Maybe next time she won’t fuck you as good if you do,” he laughs.
“Shut. The door. And shut. Up!” Clark howls, fumbling with his zipper and rushing to roll some toilet paper up into a ball for his tip when he’s hanging out of his boxers. He distantly hears his friend mumble a jeez, so touchy. sorry and the door creaks open and falls closed. With privacy at last, Clark is able to heave and thrust his hips gently into the beautiful, tight wet heat, little abstract murmurs and whimpers leaving his throat while his dick gets wetter, and wetter, and wetter.
“Don’t—Don’t, don’t want you to stop,” he quietly begs. Veins popping on his temple from all the straining his body is doing. “But I… I have to get back to work.”
Whatever is wrapped around his cock doesn’t pay his words any mind, sinking down all the way to his balls and creaming on his base the more they start their rough bouncing. Like they’re angry, like they’re taking everything out on his cock. Clark wished he knew what he did wrong, or maybe what he did right to deserve this kind of treatment from someone he couldn’t even see.
“I’m not gonna last, I’m not, it feels so good…. feels too good…. I can’t handle this again, not right now,” he breathes. Sees his tip bead more floods of pre cum and slip down the base of his cock, getting his balls messy with slick. The sound is obscene, with every up and down motion everything can be heard. How wet the pussy around him really is. How his cock stuffs it all the way through. If somebody came in right now, they would think he’s having real sex with a real body in this stall right now. When in all honestly, Clark doesn’t know what he’s having.
“Oh my gosh, gosh you’re more wet this time, you’re getting it so wet…. You’re gonna get me in trouble, wait…. please.”
The pussy on top of his dick starts to quiver, tremble and squeeze him down harder than before. Like it’s finally found release after a record of an eight minute round of going nuts on him like he’s nothing but a toy built strictly for their use.
Some cum that isn’t even his starts dribbling down on him, and that’s when the floodgates start to open. Clark can’t hold it anymore, and he doesn’t know how bad it’s gonna be trying to both cover his load and then clean it all up.
He whimpers and squeezes his eyes shut once again, knuckles turning white while he holds on for dear life and busts another long, drawn out nut into whatever this thing is that’s tortured him yet again. He spits out rope after rope of cum in the waiting piece of balled up paper and tries to catch it all there but a few stray drips do manage to burst out too fast for him to act. He sprays a part of the wall and whines a little no, please, please no, you made me cum too hard again, I need to get back to work.
The come down is always humbling. Seeing exactly how foolish he was acting as the sweat under his arms and on his face visibly stains his clothes and his skin. He managed to wipe off his messy cum lines off the wall and stuffs another rolled up ball of toilet paper down his boxers to soak up whatever else is leftover in his pants.
When he feels ready enough he’s still catching his breath and trying to get his blushing face under control as he heads over to the sink to splash some water on his face. Presses on the soap dispenser over and over again until more than a mountain of soap is bubbling in his palm, lathering his sticky, filthy hands.
Clark fights everything inside him to try and act natural when he heads back to his desk. Ruffles his hair more than necessary, tightens his tie, rolls up his sleeves.
The cup of coffee he’d made had lost most of its heat but Clark was so preoccupied in his head he doesn’t notice, still gulping some down and logging back into his computer to answer more messages and emails that were left for him. His eyes zone in on an email he’d been CC’d in from Jimmy and Lois about an upcoming new hire’s start date for their vacant Office Assistant position.
The email read that Clark would be assigned as the one primarily training her since he’d started out in her exact title position a year ago. Clark adds a thumbs up to the email and closes out of it to start on another assignment, thinking in the very back of his head that if his dick can’t control himself while he’s training said new hire next week he’d be blowing his brains out, not out of his cock next time.
Jimmy side eyes him from across the room, mouthing a you good? much to Clark’s bashful shake of his head, assuring him with a roll of his eyes and a tired response of yeah, I’m fine. shut up.
Lois comes out of the blue up behind him and drops a fat stack of paperwork on Clark’s desk with a tight smile.
“New hire coming in next week. You got my email right?”
Clark nods and leans back in his chair, casual as he can muster.
“She’ll have to mostly rely on you for help and onboarding, since me and Jimmy have too much going on. Travel, deadlines, some new leads finally getting back to us for interviews. So you’ll take her under your wing for us, yeah?”
“Of course. It’s not uh, it won’t be a problem,” he answers under his breath, taking another sorry sip of his lukewarm coffee. He hopes the thing in his pants won’t be a problem.
“You sure? Jimmy said you didn’t look well. You can’t call out and leave her all alone here on her first few days, it’s gonna be overwhelming in the start—“
“Jimmy doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I’m fine. It’ll get taken care of,” he promised.
“Alright, then don’t get her sick, got it?”
Clark wants to slap Jimmy for even bringing up his frazzled state to anybody in the office, mortified over what had taken place barely ten minutes ago, and how unpredictable his dick was gonna act for a while. Or forever. Who even knows at this point.
“My germs are all mine,” he swears, hands defensively up in the air. “Count on it.”
Lois gives him another one of her hard stares that basically told him she’d make him eat his words if he dared showing up to the office coughing, sneezing, puking. Clark was only worried about leaving his desk for twenty minutes at a time to get his dick rode by the same tempting mystical source he had yet to fully identify, let alone begin to understand.
It never left his brain even while he worked, back of his pen stuck in his mouth to chew on while he wrote up more emails and forwarded ones from their general inbox. Hours had gone by until he had about forty five more minutes left until he could be freed and finally head home, and Clark really thought he was in the clear of having another accident during work hours.
That was up until the fucking tease went at it again. The warm, sopping wet tightness wraps around his tip and slips him in, no mercy given. His dick springs back to life effortlessly, and Clark wants to cry.
He holds his head by covering his face with both hands, scooting his swivel chair forward so his crotch was safely hidden underneath. He drools an ungodly amount at the tip, feeling how eager this round was for her, how quickly she ruts against him and has him crying softly into the sleeve of his shirt.
Clark’s mewling and groaning is muffled into his arm, too helpless to hold in any of his noise when they move in sways up and down, switching off between going deep and going shallow with their pushes. Clark is beat red all over again, giving up after several minutes of unabashed torture and shielding his wet crotch with his briefcase pressed up against him, running off back to the toilets this time to sit down and breathe while undeniably enjoying everything being done to him. Fuck the last thirty minutes of his shift. Fuck the emails and the phone calls and the scans and the letters.
Clark shuts his eyes and actually smiles for a change as he eggs on whatever higher power bouncing on top of him to keep going. Nods his head and can’t help his soft murmurings of please, yeah, yeah keep doing that, you do it so good.
It might be his new imaginary best friend, or it might be his first sign to go to a mental hospital. Whatever it was, since it’s made Clark cum this hard, he guessed it couldn’t have mattered too much if it always made him feel this good.
. . .
The weekend was spent the same way. Getting his dick milked while he lied back and screeched every time she squeezed on him some way, somehow. He doesn’t answer anyone that texts him for plans, doesn’t do the dishes or take care of his laundry like how he’d hoped. No. He whines and stutters and cries, barely able to get in the shower without his dick getting trampled on.
It’s not a long shot to think he could be developing something. A mental illness. A haunted curse that plagues him with orgasms at all times of the night and the day. He’s one more round away from calling somebody to perform an exorcism or splash holy water on him to escape this succubus that had to be laughing in his face at how easy he is to rile up.
When Monday comes around again Clark doesn’t want to take any chances traumatizing the new hire with all the blotches of cum stains littering his pants. With a scoff and a sigh he steps each leg into a second pair of boxers to make slightly more effort into covering up. Even packs a backup pair in case both pairs he’s currently wearing are soiled by the end of the day.
After a hectic first hour of scanning and distributing the stack of morning mail from the bin, he slips a stick of gum on his tongue and gnaws on the flavor with his mouth open when an unfamiliar silhouette teeters closer towards the edge of his desk from the entrance.
Clark doesn’t get to looking up until she’s clearing her throat, playing with a strand of her hair with a smile aimed at the ground.
“Hi, sorry if I’m interrupting your work. I’m actually starting today,” she explains, eyeing him up from head to toe. Clark rips his head up at the voice and clears his throat, sitting up straighter and pulls a polite hand out.
“Oh! Oh, yeah that’s right. You’re our new hire. It’s nice to meet you, I’m Clark.”
She takes his hand with a laugh. Clark wished he understood what was funny. He joins in on it anyway, anxiously chuckling while he doesn’t stop shaking her hand in his. Realizing it had been well over ten seconds of her soft palm held up in his own long, gigantic fingers, he slips his hand off of hers, lingering in the awkward air of the moment.
She nods and scans her gaze around, peaking at the state of Clark’s desk. The endless string of sticky notes, the protein shakes, the tie he’d already taken off his neck. “So am I in the right place, or—“
“Yup. Yeah, yeah you found where you should be. I’ve been tasked to uh, help you fill all this out. After that we can get you started on some basics,” he breathes out, pointing to the stack resting on the side of his desk, sticky note on top with her name on it. Clark finds himself trying a little desperately to keep himself more cool, more composed. She’s the kind of pretty that made him nervous, suddenly aware of his undone appearance, of every awkward move he makes. He stops chewing his gum with as much rigor, clenches his jaw and scratches the back of his neck.
“I started out in the position you’re in, it’s real easy to move up,” he mentions, gathering up the paperwork and attempting to straighten it out before a quarter of the pages fall from his grasp in a pile. Beat red, Clark doesn’t do anything but stare at the ground and sigh before sheepishly joining in on her laughs.
“You’re pretty organized, aren’t you?” she chuckles, bending over to pick up the few documents that landed on the floor. Clark’s jaw even drops when he catches the smallest glimpse of her hot pink colored thong poking up above from her dress pants.
“Yeah. Yeah I really am, you know. Organization is key,” he nods, tight lipped smile still on his face. He takes the pages she hands him over, watching her subtly arch her head to smell something in the air. Fuck. What the fuck? Did he even put on any cologne this morning after draining his dick for the hundredth time?
Before he could shoot himself in the head with more irrational insecurities his mind makes up she soothed his very visible worry with another laugh and a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Is it me? Do I reek like sweat or something—?”
“No, no. You don’t smell bad, you’re fine. I was just trying to figure out if you were chewing Spearmint or not,” she assures. “I like it. Promise. You do not reek of anything,” she snorted through another laugh. Clark beams, looking around everywhere but her face. Afraid his face could give his every fleeting thought away.
Thank god. “Uh, oh yeah. Yeah it’s Spearmint. You want a piece? I have a new pack,” he offers. To his surprise, she snatches up a piece out of his hand hardly before he gets to offer it to her. Blinks dumbly while she opens it up and tears the piece in half, stuffing one in her mouth and giving the other half back to him.
“Uh—“
She smiles at him, chewing the gum out of one side of her cheek. “I have this oral thing. A fixation I guess. Chewing or having something in my mouth really helps me.”
The thing about Clark is, he has manners. Has restraint. Thought he was a good boy that didn’t go on and chase any tail that came into his orbit. Especially not a new pretty co-worker. He doesn’t want to think about putting different parts of himself inside her mouth just to calm her down. Or the color of her thong. Or that wicked smile and addicting perfume to match. Something tries to draw him in closer, reason with his conscience like she’s teasing little signals, it’s not like you’re her boss or anything. if you flirt back no one would know a thing.
Clark stops his zoning out and nods his head to agree. “I get it. Having stuff in my… in my mouth cools me off too. Like—like stress.”
“You shouldn’t worry yourself that much. Seems like you’re wound up pretty tight.”
He feels like there’s this window into his thoughts standing clear as day right above his head, broadcasting every fleeting thought or mood. When he tries to look at her, stare at her back the same way she stares at him, he just wanted to run away before his own dick caught up with him.
Clark scratches his chin and sheepishly nods with his head down, agreeing with a gentle mumble, yeah you know, just normal stuff, kinda on edge. Not like he randomly cums in his pants or anything. He quickly finds a way to change subjects by directing his focus back to the work left in front of them and guides her to sit over at her new desk to fill out some new hire paperwork. She taps him on the shoulder and grins when she says his name to ask him questions. He dutifully answers everything he can, emails some higher ups to get her logins to some of their systems and trains her how they go through their mail and answer consumer’s inquiries over the phone.
She takes just about everything in a stride. Overwhelmed of course by certain things that have nuances and will take more time getting used to. Clark introduces her to more staff, waves to Lois, makes the new hire her own cup of coffee after showing her their break room. Jimmy tries to raise a brow, even wiggles both of them up and down at him from behind her back, but it only makes Clark kick him in the shin and gruffly threaten him under his breath as he’s passing by while she wasn’t looking.
Clark sends her off to her first break, telling her to meet him back at her desk for more training later. Watches absentmindedly as she picks up her purse, snatched up a lighter from one of the pockets and stuck a cigarette behind her ear, waving goodbye and strolling out to the elevator doors. Before the elevator doors close he could see her take the stick from her ear and put it between her lips, probably a habit she’s picked up from that oral thing, Clark figured. He wants to stop himself from picking apart her business but he’s too intrigued to stop, still lost in thought at his desk while he takes a break of his own.
After spitting his piece of gum out he chugs a few thick swigs of his protein shake, spaced out in blank thought. A corner of his mouth smiles when he feels the other half of that stick of gum she’d torn off and given back. His dick twitches but ultimately stayed soft, undetected in his pants. He’d shamefully started wondering how the hell his dick was so well behaved, so normal today of all days. Not that it was a bad thing. He just found it curious. Why was this the first time in days his dick wasn’t getting swallowed, rode, or came on by whatever invisible force that clearly had been having its fun tormenting him? And will it ever come back to fuck him again?
Once Jimmy finds Clark alone at his desk wiping fingerprints off his glasses, he swats his shoulder and bashed one of his knees to his swivel chair, causing him to start spinning.
“What the hey, dude—don’t—“
“This could be your shot. All’s I’m sayin,” he shrugs. Sees Clark stop his chair and shove his friend forward, only enough power to knock him off his feet a little bit. “Hey, hey! That’s all I’m saying, I said!” he laughs and defensively puts both his palms up to shield himself from any more of Clark’s wrath.
“You can’t say that stuff. Don’t. She’s new, okay! And… and she needs my help learning everything around here. She doesn’t need some big oaf getting in her business, abusing power, or being… being weird towards her,” he concludes.
“Hey, opportunities sometimes fall right out of the sky. This one just fell right into your lap. And you’re not a fat oaf dude. Pfft, you actually think being her co-worker is gonna affect anything?”
“Uh, yes it does in fact. It will literally affect everything. You think it’d be appropriate for me to treat her like that?”
Jimmy shrugs again, ruffles Clark’s curls and says he should think about reconsidering some of his rules and start breaking them in order to finally get something he wants.
When she’s back from her break her hair is damp, fresh perfume sprayed on her coat to get rid of some of the stench from her cigarette. She looks refreshed, albeit a little more flustered than she was before she left. Her boots squeak slightly on the floor from stepping out on the wet ground outside. He thinks about complimenting her boots, her coat, her hair, thinks about complimenting her everything. But his words fall short after his voice cracks from the very simple greeting of hey, welcome back.
“Hey, can I ask you for a favor after work? It’s totally fine if you say no or if you can’t. You don’t have to give me any reasons,” she assures.
Already eager to know what she’s going to be asking of him, his ears perk and his posture straightens up as he scoots his chair over to her desk.
“Yeah of course. What’s up?”
“It started raining pretty hard and the forecast says it won’t stop until tomorrow morning. I actually walked here to work, and if it’s not any trouble, would you be able to give me a lift back home?”
Clark swallows an upcoming lump in his throat, feeling his palms start to get clammy. The mere thought of the proximity was enticing. Having her next to him, in his car. Her trust in him helping her with something as intimate as having her get back home safely. He tries to answer casually, like he’s a nonchalant guy — as if the offer wasn’t any big deal, wasn’t making his heart start to beat a little faster.
What comes out though is a horribly rushed, clumsy, stuttered —
“Ohyeahofcourse, you don’t even have to worry about it!”
Jimmy’s teasing still echoes through the hallway of his brain. About opportunities. About how sometimes they seem to fall right out of the sky. How this one has fallen right into his lap.
“Thanks so much Clark, I appreciate it. You’ve been the sweetest guy. I’m really lucky to have you here to teach me everything,” she praised. Turning his cheeks pink in all of two seconds with a flat palm on his broad shoulder, squeezing gently and holding the warmest smile.
“We’re lucky to have you. You’ve been— you’ve been great,” he gulps, trying to bring the focus back to her. “We don’t have too much more to fill out, but um, I don’t wanna overwhelm you with any more new things today. Let’s wrap up this paperwork then we’ll hopefully get you on those phones to practice the last hour.”
“Great! I’m almost finished with those. And for the record I do promise where I live isn’t far, I don’t wanna be too much an inconvenience,” she laughs. Clark shook his head again, ready to protest the very idea that she was asking too much. In truth, she was so stupid pretty that if she asks him to say his ABC’s backwards he’d still give it his best shot. She almost cuts off his attempt to deny it, straightening up some of the last pages left to read over and sign.
“You are not any inconvenience. If you are, then please keep inconveniencing me,” he says, flashing a toothy smile at her. He prays to himself that it comes out right, and to his delight, she grins back, adorable face expressing back to him, well, then don’t mind if I do. “with anything you need, I’ll be here.”
Is he being too much?
“Thanks, Clark. I owe you.”
Oh? What should you owe me?
He shakes off any perverted thoughts and spares a glance at his watch.
“Are you hungry? It could be lunch time. Up to you. We don’t clock in and out, we just have timesheets, so breaks are pretty flexible.”
“Yeah, I could eat.”
Clark’s head screams well there’s a full meal right in front of you.
“Great.”
. . .
He sees her head off to the break room and start chatting with Lois, smiling at her welcoming disposition while she checks in on how her training is going. Clark knows he has the option to stay, to ogle while he ate at his desk, but he feels like he has too much steam to blow off before handling the rest of the day. With a long final exhale, he adjusts his glasses and snatched up his keys to head back home for his lunch hour.
Once he’s back at his apartment he immediately sheds his god awful shoes and his suffocating button down before he’s lying flat on his back in bed, staring up at the wall. Trying to manifest that magical touch and beckon it to come back. Beg for it even. Wonders to himself if there’s some hidden way he hasn’t figured out yet to trigger it, or if it’ll always remain spontaneous.
Clenching his jaw he angrily starts groping his crotch, trying to feel himself out. He opens one eye to peer down at his dick and see if he just thought about it hard enough he’ll bring it back to life, feel that beautiful all consuming weight drip on top of him again.
“C’mon. C’mon, please… You… you’ve fucked me every day and I took it all last night, now I want it, I need it. Right here, please?”
Clark strokes his cock while it sways back and forth against his belly, mind already feeding into an idiotic fantasy of his new hire bending over, showing him her pretty colored thong. Maybe she’d pull her panties up higher so they’re peaking out further above her waistline, or maybe she’d pull them over to the side….
He raises his hips off the bed to thrust into his fist at the thought, pants still strung down barely past his groin. Figures if he shows back up to work the rest of the day in different pants, it’s his business and his business only, and so be it.
“Oh god it was so good last time, wish you could touch me like that again…”
He knows it’s pathetic. Everything he’s doing, everything he’s saying. While he grips the tip and twists particularly tight, he shamefully whimpers out his new hire’s name while his dick starts to drip into pubes. Messy, sticky, but gosh he needed this. Clark deeply misses the warmth on top of him, the hot teasing, the bouncing, and the thrill of not knowing what will happen next—
“Oh my god….”
. . .
posting this cuz I’m so done looking at it already dear jesuslawd. if I should keep going somehow let me know I love coworkerXcoworker getting down and nasty. I like the idea of clark not knowing what’s going on and getting slobbered on by his work crush. fully no clue when/if the next part comes out oh my lawd. thanks soooo so much for all the love on the first little prelude:( im so obsessed with every reblog+comment
➶ summary : arriving at the airport for the first stop of the annual europe trip is chaotic enough but seeing alfie buttle there shifts everything slightly off balance. old history sits quietly under the noise of the group, while both of you commit to acting like nothing has ever happened between you even when it clearly still does.
➶ content warnings : EXTREME slow burn (sorry x), swearing, tension, jealousy, mentions of sexual experiences, light angst.
➶ bambi talks : finally!!!!!! i’ve had this entire series sitting in my notes app for way too long and i’m actually so excited (and slightly terrified) to finally start posting it <3 this is a proper slow burn so nothing is happening fast on purpose. i promise it all builds. it might feel chill at the start but stick with it because it definitely escalates and gets… messy in the best way. anyway i really hope you like it, and i hope it hurts a little bit too (affectionately).
the first thing you noticed when you woke up was the heat.
not outside. london was still grey and miserable through the cracked open bedroom windows, despite it being june. but the kind trapped inside your apartment after days of panic packing and ignoring the existence of airflow completely.
clothes covered nearly every inch of your bedroom. bikinis hanging over your vanity chair. a tangled mess of chargers and cords across your duvet. your suitcase sat open at the end of the bed, barely zipped shut.
you stared at it from the doorway, coffee balanced in one hand while your phone buzzed aggressively in the other.
liv <3
outside btw xx
you groaned softly.
“fucking brilliant.”
grabbing your bags and sunglasses, you shoved your feet into trainers before dragging your suitcase through the narrow hallway of your apartment.
outside, london hit you immediately. not weather, just noise. liv already half hanging out of an uber.
“you look horrendous.”
“you literally texted me twelve minutes ago.”
“and yet somehow you’re still late.”
You flipped her off whilst shoving your suitcase into the boot.
“morning to you too.”
on the drive to heathrow you attempting mascara in the reflection of the window, which should’ve been illegal for how little light there was.
“you’ve packed seven lip liners.”
“they’re different shades.”
“they’re all brown.”
“they’re emotionally different.”
liv laughed so hard she nearly dropped her phone.
“that’s insane behaviour.”
“it’s called preparedness.”
by the time you got to the airport the headache that cup of coffee and 4 hours of sleep had contributed to settled behind your eyes. And to make matters worse chaos was unfolding near the check in area.
george had a camera shoved in everyone’s face.
chip was loudly accusing arthur of nearly losing his passport.
yaz was sat on top of her suitcase eating a pret croissant like she hadn’t slept in three days.
sabina and flo were arguing over whose fake tan stained the Airbnb towels last summers trip.
you exhaled once then walked in.
“oi!” george immediately swung the camera. “late as usual.”
“you told everyone the wrong terminal.”
“content purposes.”
“your content is giving unemployment.”
chip wheezed laughing.
“see, this is why i like her,” he pointed at you. “she’s nasty.”
“thanks, chip.”
you hugged sabina first then yaz then flo.
george immediately shoved the camera back into your face.
“pre-europe predictions. who’s crying first?”
“arthur,” cal said instantly without looking up.
“correct,” you nodded.
arthur groaned. “i actually hate all of you.”
everyone burst into laughter.
the noise bounced around the airport terminal so loudly that a woman near by physically turned to stare at all of you.
you smiled despite yourself. This felt normal. Easy.
until it wasn’t.
you froze before you even fully registered the voice.
it happened so naturally it almost annoyed you.
like your body recognised him before your brain did.
alfie appeared beside George wearing a dark hoodie despite the overheated airport, sunglasses pushed into messy curls and one hand wrapped around the handle of his suitcase.
“missed absolutely fuck all, then?” he asked.
george immediately swung the camera toward him.
“tell the vlog who’s crying first on the trip.”
“probably her,” alfie answered absentmindedly.
alfie replied without even looking up properly but your eyes flicked to him anyway.
of course they did.
his landed on you at the exact same time.
not dramatic. not soft either. just aware. like you both clocked the same thing and mutually decided to ignore it in public.
last year.
you didn’t react to that thought. not on your face anyway.
“nice to see you too,” you said.
there was a beat.
not awkward enough for anyone else to fully notice, but definitely there.
alfie nodded once, small half smile like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to fully use it.
“alright?”
“mm.”
that was it.
no follow up. no explanation.
just two people doing a very committed job of acting like nothing happened on the same europe trip last year when absolutely everything did.
and doing a decent job of it, annoyingly.
sabina’s gaze flicked between you two for half a second.
she said nothing.
which somehow made it worse.
she knew so did liv. she just wasn’t cruel enough to say anything about it out loud.
“right,” george clapped his hands loudly, breaking it all up before it could become a thing. “security. move. we’ve got a plane to catch and i refuse to die in terminal 5.”
“you’re acting like we’re going to war,” yaz muttered, already walking.
“we are,” chip said immediately.
you fell beside liv and sab. movement meant you didn’t have to stand still long enough for anything to surface.
especially not him.
security split everyone into uneven lanes.
you ended up just behind liv and yaz without meaning to. sabina somewhere ahead laughing at something chip had said. george still filming. cal arguing about whether snacks were worth declaring.
normal noise. safe noise. but your awareness kept slipping backwards anyway. you didn’t look. you didn’t need to but you knew he was there.
“you still overpack?” his voice came quietly from behind you.
you didn’t turn.
“shut up.”
“that’s a yes.”
“your wearing sunglasses inside.”
“fashion choice.”
you finally glanced sideways at him.
“you look like you sell ket outside train stations.”
his laugh came out immediately. enough that it annoyed you slightly.
security passed slowly, shoes off, bags through scanners, the metallic rhythm of bins sliding forward.
“gate forty-two,” george announced loudly, already leading the charge. “everyone alive?”
“barely,” arthur muttered.
you dropped into a seat near liv when you finally reached the gate, suitcase at your feet.
your shoulders loosened abit.
just enough to notice they’d been tight in the first place.
liv nudged you with her knee.
“you’re quiet.”
“i’m tired.”
“you’re always tired.”
you looked at her briefly.
“that’s because i keep waking up.”
she snorted, scrolling again like nothing mattered.
you leaned your head back against the seat and let the noise of the group fill the space between you and everything else.
not peace.
just pause.
“i’m getting coffee,” you said, pushing yourself up slightly.
liv didn’t even look up from her phone.
“you’re always getting coffee.”
“because I'm always running on no sleep”
“valid,” yaz said, half asleep, curled into her hoodie.
george barely registered it. “get me one.”
“no.”
“why.”
“because,” you said, sticking your tongue out at him.
chip laughed. “i’ll come with her.”
“no you won’t,” sabina said immediately, grabbing his sleeve without looking up. “you’ll get distracted and buy like six packs of haribos and disappear.”
“that’s slander.”
you rolled your eyes. “i’ll be back.”
no one moved.
you waited a beat.
and then..
“i’ll come.”
it wasn’t loud. it didn’t need to be. the whole group clocked it anyway.
you paused, turning slightly.
alfie was already standing up.
one hand in his pocket, the other on his bag strap, like he'd stood up on impulse and was now trying to make it look like a normal human decision.
you looked at him for a second longer than necessary.
“fine.”
behind you, liv’s head lifted just abit. sabina noticed too. they didn’t say anything, just that small knowing look that they were very good at pretending wasn’t a thing.
you started walking.
the café wasn’t far, just tucked around the corner of the gate area. alfie walked slightly behind you for about three steps. then beside you. then matched your pace without comment.
the queue moved slowly. obviously.
you leant back against the wall with your arms folded. alfie ordered without fuss, then added yours like he already knew it.
you noticed.
“thanks,” he said when the drinks were handed over, smirking slightly.
you nodded once. “don’t get used to it.”
“wouldn’t dream of it.”
the walk back was quiet.
your shoulder brushed his arm as you turned a corner. accidental. you both clocked it immediately anyway. neither of you said anything. which, annoyingly, was kind of worse.
back at the gate, chaos had escalated in your absence.
“why is chip holding three muffins?” you asked, handing george his coffee.
“emotional support,” cal said flatly.
“they’re not even his,” yaz added.
chip pointed at her. “don’t expose me like that.”
“you exposed yourself,” sabina said.
you dropped back into your seat, placing your coffee carefully on the ground.
alfie sat down a second later.
not beside you.
just close enough that it didn’t feel like a coincidence, but not close enough that anyone could comment on it either.
liv’s eyes flicked between you two again. quick. observant. then away.
you took a sip of coffee and immediately frowned.
“this is actually vile.”
“yeah,” alfie said. “it’s airport coffee.”
“doesn’t have to be that bad.”
“it kind of does,” he said. “it’s the rules.”
you glanced at him.
he wasn’t looking at you.
which would’ve been fine, if it didn’t feel like he was still aware you were there anyway.
and somehow that was the whole problem.#ukyt#ukyt fanfic#18 and over#spicy#ukyt x reader#angst with a happy ending#angst#fluff#smut#social media
five times you and alfie have had problems, wc: 4.8k ૮꒰ ｡. ｡꒱ྀིა -> chapter two
authors note: this goes after chapter one but before chapter two, it’s like mini blurbs, chapter two should be out soon, have a few more adjustments, ( amber is the blonde girl from c one ) x
if i put poppy instead of amber ignore it, poppy was her og name!
warnings: swearing ꒰ ⸝⸝•ᴗ•⸝⸝ ꒱ @peanubeebe
one ─ ꫂ᭪݁ creeps
the stairwell is quieter than the street outside.
the second the building door shuts behind you, the noise fades into something dull and distant, leaving only the sound of your footsteps against the stairs as you start making your way up.
your grip tightens slightly around your keys.
you tell yourself you're being stupid now. dramatic, maybe. the man hadn't actually done anything.
just walked behind you for too long, close enough that every turn you took felt deliberate after a while.
still, the feeling hasn't properly left your chest yet.
you keep your head down as you climb the stairs, shoulders a little tense beneath your coat, trying to shake it off before you get upstairs.
"you alright?"
the voice catches you slightly off guard.
you look up.
alfie's a few steps ahead of you, having apparently come in while you were too caught up in your own head to notice.
he's slowed slightly, glancing back over his shoulder at you now, brows faintly pulled together.
you nod quickly. "yeah.", he doesn't look convinced.
you keep walking anyway, your footsteps quieter now as you reach the next landing.
"just tired," you add after a second, like that explains the way you keep glancing toward the stairwell behind you.
his eyes flick down the stairs briefly, then back to you again.
"someone bothering you?"
you hesitate, "not really," you say. "there was just this guy outside earlier."
he stops walking properly then, waiting for you to reach the same step as him before continuing up beside you instead.
"what guy?"
you shrug lightly, trying to downplay it now that you're saying it out loud. "i don't know. he was just following a bit too close for a while."
his expression changes slightly at that, something sharpening for a second before settling again.
"and you're saying that like it's normal?"
you let out a small breath through your nose, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. "he's gone now."
"still."
you glance at him briefly.
he's looking at you properly now, not overly dramatic about it, just focused in a way that makes you suddenly aware of how tense you still are.
you look away again first. “i'm okay," you say quietly.
then he nods once, slower this time. "good."
but he doesn't move ahead again.
instead, he stays walking beside you the rest of the way up, matching your pace without making a thing of it.
neither of you say much after that, just the occasional sound of keys shifting in your hands or footsteps echoing softly off the walls.
it should feel awkward but it doesn't.
his door's first. then yours.
you slow as you pull your keys out, and he lingers by his own door for a second instead of immediately going inside.
"you sure you're alright?" he asks again, quieter this time.
you glance up at him.
there's something gentle in the question now. not pushing, not expecting anything, just checking.
and for the first time since you walked into the building, the tight feeling in your chest eases slightly.
"yeah," you say, softer now. "i am."
he studies your face for half a second like he's making sure, then nods once.
two ─ ꫂ᭪݁ shopping failure
you regret not making two trips almost immediately.
the bags dig painfully into your fingers as you climb the stairs, plastic stretching tight where you're gripping them, every step making your arms ache a little more.
you'd convinced yourself it would be quicker this way, easier.
it isn't.
one of the bags slips slightly against your wrist and you stop halfway up the stairs with a quiet breath, adjusting everything awkwardly without putting anything down.
the corner of a cereal box pokes into your side from one of the tote bags hanging off your shoulder, and you're pretty sure one of the plastic bags is seconds away from splitting.
"for fucks sake," you mutter under your breath, mostly to yourself.
by the time you reach your floor, your hands are throbbing.
you somehow manage to get your keys out, balancing one bag against your hip while trying to unlock the door without dropping.
anything, but your fingers are stiff now, awkward from the weight.
the key slips once. then again.
you let out a frustrated breath, shifting the bags higher up your arms. and then one nearly falls.
"here"
you jump slightly at the voice.
alfie's standing a few feet away outside his door, having apparently just come out without you noticing.
his eyes flick down over the ridiculous amount of shopping hanging off you before he shakes his head a little, like he's trying not to laugh.
"why are you carrying all that at once?"
"because i thought i could," you mumble, already sounding defeated.
the corner of his mouth lifts slightly at that before he steps forward. "give me those."
"no, it's fine, really", you politely decline
he's already taking two of the heavier bags from your hands before you finish the sentence.
the relief is immediate.
you flex your fingers slightly once the weight's gone, wincing without meaning to.
"your hands are literally red," he points out.
you glance away slightly, embarrassed now that he's witnessed the struggle. "i almost had it."
"sure, girl.", he smirks to himself
you let out a small breath that almost turns into a laugh despite yourself.
he reaches past you then, taking the keys gently from your hand before you can protest again, unlocking the door easily now that someone isn't trying to do it one-handed while carrying half a supermarket.
"thank you," you murmur.
you step inside first, and he follows behind with the bags still hanging easily from his hands like they weigh nothing.
and annoyingly.
his arms flex slightly every time he adjusts his grip.
you notice it immediately.
the sleeves of his top sit just high enough on his arms that it's impossible not to, especially when he lifts one of the heavier bags onto the kitchen counter without effort.
you look away quickly before you stare too long.
"where do you want this stuff?" he asks, glancing around.
"it’s fine there."
he nods, setting the bags down carefully before straightening again.
and then he stops.
his eyes move around the flat slowly, taking it in properly for what's probably the first time.
the lamps instead of the overhead lights. the blanket thrown over the sofa. half-burnt candles near the window.
mugs sitting in mismatched pairs beside the sink. the soft music playing quietly somewhere upstairs.
everything about it feels warm.
it smells faintly like vanilla and coffee and something sweet from the bakery.
"this is nice," he says after a second, quieter than before.
you glance up at him. "what is?"
"your flat."
something about the way he says it makes warmth creep faintly into your face.
you shrug lightly instead, setting another bag down by the counter. "it's a mess."
he's still looking around slightly, like he's noticing little details without meaning to. and suddenly you're hyperaware of all of it too.
the cushions lottie insisted on buying, your heels lazily tossed on the floor. the flour still dusted faintly across part of the counter from this morning.
"sorry," you mumble automatically. "i haven't really sorted everything yet."
he looks back at you immediately. "why are you apologising?"
you shrug slightly. "i don't know."
the corner of his mouth lifts again.
three ─ ꫂ᭪݁ shower problems
you know something's wrong the second the water turns cold again.
not slightly cold. dead freezing.
you gasp quietly under your breath, immediately twisting the tap harder like that's somehow going to fix it, but it doesn't.
the water stays painfully icy against your hand, the pipes making that awful rattling sound that usually means nothing good.
"you've got to be joking," you mutter.
you stand there for another minute trying to convince yourself it'll warm back up.
it doesn't.
you try the sink after that. same thing.
then the kitchen tap.
still freezing.
you stare at it for a second, exhausted already, your shoulders dropping slowly.
of course this would happen tonight.
you'd had a long day, your hair still smells faintly like the bakery, and all you want is a proper shower and to go to bed without thinking too hard about anything.
instead, you're standing in the middle of your bathroom in pyjama shorts and a loose tank, trying not to lose your patience with a boiler.
you glance at the time on your phone.
it’s too late to call anyone but too cold to ignore it.
and unfortunately there's only one person next door.
you hesitate for a full minute before even leaving your flat.
then another before knocking on his door.
you already regret this.
there's movement inside almost immediately, footsteps approaching, and then the door opens.
alfie looks slightly surprised to see you standing there, though it softens quickly into something more familiar. his hair's a little messy, like he's been lying down already, grey hoodie pulled over his head.
"you alright?"
you immediately feel awkward.
"uh." you glance away for a second, already embarrassed. "this is really annoying, sorry."
his expression shifts into concern almost instantly. "what happened?"
"my hot water's stopped working," you say quickly, like if you say it fast enough it'll feel less embarrassing. "and i've tried everything but it's freezing and i just-"
you stop yourself, pressing your lips together briefly.
"sorry," you say again.
he blinks once, then lets out a quiet breath through his nose, almost amused.
"that's what you're apologising for?"
you shrug slightly. "it's just inconvenient."
"for you," he points out.
you look down for a second. "yeah, well."
there's a brief pause before he steps back from the doorway slightly. "do you need to use mine?"
your eyes lift back up immediately. "no, it's fine, i'll sort something out.
"you literally just came over here because you can't."
you let out a tiny breath at that, embarrassed now that he's saying it out loud.
he leans lightly against the doorframe, softer this time. "it's alright. seriously."
you hesitate.
"you sure?"
"yeah." he nods once. "course, girl"
there's still a tiny pause where you look like you might refuse out of politeness anyway.
then he adds, "i promise i don't mind.", and somehow that's what gets you.
"okay," you mumble.
his expression softens slightly like he knew you'd eventually give in.
"give me two seconds," he says, disappearing briefly back into the flat.
you stand awkwardly outside while you hear movement inside, drawers opening, something being moved around. then he reappears, holding the bathroom door open slightly.
"you can use that one."
"thank you," you say immediately. "seriously, i'm really sorry."
he looks at you for a second. "you say sorry a lot."
your face warms slightly. "i know.", you immediately think of all the times you got scolded for over apologising, bad habit.
the corner of his mouth lifts faintly before he steps aside fully to let you in.
his flat smells clean. it's quieter than usual too, softer somehow without other people there.
you try not to think about that too much.
"there should be shampoo and stuff in there," he says as you hover awkwardly near the bathroom door. "unless you've got your own."
"i brought mine," you say quickly, holding up the small bag you grabbed in a panic before leaving.
he nods. "right."
there's another tiny awkward pause.
"thanks again," you say.
"stop apologising," he replies automatically, though there's no edge to it.
you give him a small, sheepish smile before disappearing into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you.
the second the hot water hits your skin, you nearly cry from relief.
"oh my god," you whisper to yourself.
it's almost embarrassing how good it feels.
you stay under it longer than you mean to, letting the warmth loosen the ache in your shoulders, steam filling the room slowly until the mirror fogs over completely.
for the first time all day, your mind goes quiet.
you wash your hair quickly after that, trying not to take too long even though the heat makes you want to stay there forever.
eventually, reluctantly, you turn the water off. you reach for your towel and freeze.
nothing's there.
you stare at the empty hook for a full second like one might magically appear if you wait long enough.
then the realisation hits. no fucking way.
you left it in your flat.
you close your eyes briefly in immediate humiliation. "you are actually joking."
for a moment, you consider every possible alternative. none of them are good.
eventually, after far too much internal suffering, you crack the bathroom door open just slightly.
"alfie?" you call quietly.
there's movement almost immediately from somewhere in the flat. "yeah?"
your face burns instantly. "i forgot my towel."
there's a pause. then a small hum comes from him.
you lean your forehead briefly against the doorframe. "i know."
you hear him stand up. "i can grab one."
"i'm so sorry."
he laughs quietly at that, not mocking, just genuinely amused now. "it's alright."
you hear cupboards opening somewhere outside, then footsteps approaching again.
"i'm gonna hand it through," he says from outside the door. "and before you say sorry again, don't."
despite yourself, you smile slightly.
you open the door only enough to reach your arm out.
he's very clearly looking the opposite direction. like aggressively looking away.
his arm stretches out blindly with the towel in hand while his eyes stay fixed somewhere toward the kitchen ceiling.
a tiny laugh escapes you before you can stop it.
you take the towel quickly, your fingers brushing his for half a second.
he immediately retracts his hand like he's trying very hard to be respectful about the whole thing.
"thank you," you say, quieter this time.
then, still not looking at you, "you alright in there?"
something about the question catches you slightly off guard.
"yeah," you say softly after a second. "i am now."
his expression shifts slightly at that, though you only catch it briefly before shutting the door again.
and as you lean back against it for a second, towel clutched against your chest, you realise your heart's beating a little too fast for someone who just needed a shower.
four ─ ꫂ᭪݁ locksmith
the rain starts sometime in the afternoon.
not heavy, just constant enough that the windows blur slightly, soft tapping filling the flat while you sit curled into the corner of the sofa with your legs tucked beneath you.
the lamps are on even though it's barely evening yet, warm light settling across the room while some random programme plays quietly in the background.
lottie's beside you, half paying attention to the tv and half scrolling on her phone.
"that girl absolutely did that on purpose," she mutters suddenly.
you glance over. "what girl?"
she tilts the screen toward you briefly. "this one. there's no way she accidentally leaked her own private story."
you stare at the video for about two seconds before looking away again. "i don't understand influencers."
"neither do i," she says. "and i'm gay. i should."
you snort quietly at that, reaching for your mug from the coffee table.
there's a knock at the door, you assume it's a delivery.
you stand up slowly, setting your mug down. "if it's another parcel for next door i'm keeping it."
lottie hums absently. "good."
you pull the door open and stop.
alfie's standing there, one hand shoved into the pocket of his hoodie, hair damp from the rain.
he looks mildly annoyed, though it softens slightly when he sees you.
"hi," he says.
"hello?", you say cautiously
he lifts a set of keys slightly. or what should be a set of keys.
instead it's just one key hooked onto a broken ring.
"that looks bad," you say.
"locked myself out," he replies.
you blink sympathetically. "oh."
"yeah."
there's a brief pause while rain taps quietly against the stairwell window behind him.
"locksmith's coming," he adds after a second. "eventually."
you glance down the hallway automatically. "how long?"
"said forty minutes." he looks unconvinced. "which probably means two hours."
you let out a small breath through your nose at that.
lottie appears behind you then, immediately clocking the situation. "you're locked out?"
he nods once.
"well," she says lightly, "at least you're self-aware."
he laughs quietly at that.
there's a tiny pause before you speak again. "you can wait in here if you want."
his eyes flick back to yours immediately. "you sure?"
"yeah," you shrug slightly. "you'll freeze out there."
he hesitates for about half a second before nodding once. "alright. thanks."
you step aside to let him in.
he smells faintly like rain when he passes you.
lottie gives you a look the second his back's turned.
you ignore it immediately.
alfie hovers awkwardly near the kitchen for a second like he's trying not to intrude, his attention drifting around the flat in that same way it always does when he's here.
"you can sit down," you tell him.
"right." he rubs the back of his neck briefly. "sorry, i feel like i'm invading."
"you are," lottie says. you stare at her. she grins. "joking."
he laughs again, quieter this time, before finally sitting down on the armchair opposite the sofa.
conversation slips around naturally, moving from random complaints about work to whatever awful programme lottie had been watching before he knocked.
alfie's more relaxed than usual, hoodie sleeves pushed up his forearms, sitting back properly now instead of looking ready to leave at any second.
you notice he laughs with his whole face.
it's distracting.
you laugh softly into your mug at that, and alfie looks over instinctively when he hears it.
notices you laughing and smiles slightly too.
after a while, lottie stands up suddenly. "i'm gonna go sort my hair out before it dries weird."
you glance up. "your hair looks fine."
alfie snorts quietly.
"if you two fall in love while i'm gone, keep the volume down."
"charlotte," you say immediately. she disappears upstairs before you can continue.
the flat goes quieter after that.
alfie leans back slightly in the chair, glancing upstairs briefly before looking back at you. "she's terrifying."
"she likes you."
"that's her liking me?"
"yeah."
he lets out a quiet laugh. "right."
you smile faintly into your mug.
rain taps steadily against the windows while the tv hums quietly in the background, neither of you really paying attention to it anymore.
there's a small pause.
then, "you and her have known each other long?" he asks.
"since school."
he nods slowly. "makes sense."
you look down briefly, tracing your thumb absently against the side of the mug. "she's basically family."
his expression softens slightly at that.
"that's nice."
you glance back up at him. "what about you?"
"what about me?"
"you got people like that?"
he pauses for a second, like he wasn't expecting the question.
then shrugs lightly. "couple friends, i guess."
"the fellas?"
he looked utterly surprised at that, “you know about that?”, he says sheepishly
you smile slightly. "i did my research ."
you realise slowly that talking to him has stopped feeling nerve-wracking somewhere along the way. you don't think about every sentence as much anymore. the silence between things doesn't feel heavy.
he looks more relaxed too. more himself.
his head tilts slightly as he looks at you. "you're quieter than usual today."
your brows lift faintly. "am i?"
"bit."
you shrug lightly. "just tired."
he studies your face for a second like he's trying to decide whether he believes that answer.
then his phone buzzes on the arm of the chair. he glances down immediately, and the moment shifts slightly.
"locksmith," he says after reading it. "he's outside."
you nod once. "oh."
there's the tiniest pause after that.
like neither of you expected to feel disappointed by it.
he stands up slowly, grabbing the broken keys from the coffee table. "thanks for letting me stay here."
"it's okay, really."
he lingers for half a second longer than necessary.
something unreadable passes briefly across his expression before he nods once, almost to himself.
upstairs, you hear lottie moving around again.
alfie glances toward the ceiling briefly, then back at you with the faintest smile. "tell your mate i said thanks”
he heads toward the door after that, pulling it open before pausing briefly.
"see you."
then he's gone. the door closes quietly behind him. and somehow, the flat feels noticeably emptier almost immediately.
five ─ ꫂ᭪݁ power outage
you're halfway through folding laundry when the lights flicker.
ounce.
twice.
you pause, one of your jumpers half-folded in your hands, glancing up toward the ceiling briefly before going back to what you were doing.
the weather's awful outside. rain against the windows, wind loud enough to hear every now and then through the walls.
lottie had left about an hour ago for her date, disappearing downstairs in a coat she claimed looked "casual" despite spending forty minutes choosing it.
which leaves the flat unusually quiet. you don't really mind it.
there's music playing softly from your phone on the kitchen counter, the lamps casting warm light across the room while you move slowly between the sofa and the laundry basket.
and then there's a knock at the door.
you frown slightly, setting the clothes down.
for a second you think maybe lottie forgot something.
but when you pull the door open
it's alfie and amber.
your stomach sinks before you can stop it.
alfie looks mildly exasperated already, one hand pushed back through his hair while amber stands beside him with her arms folded tightly across herself like the hallway personally offended her.
"sorry our power's gone.", alfie says quickly.
right on cue, the lights in the hallway flicker out for half a second.
amber lets out a dramatic sigh. "this building is a fucking joke."
you blink once.
“think it's just my flat," alfie continues before she can say anything else. "the landlord said someone's coming out but it could take a while."
"and i am not sitting in the dark,", amber adds immediately.
there's a brief pause.
then alfie glances at you again, slightly awkward now. "could we maybe stay here for a bit?"
"oh." you shift slightly, immediately stepping aside. "yeah, of course.”
"thank you," he says, genuine relief crossing his face.
amber walks in first without another word, her eyes moving around the flat immediately.
"god," she mutters under her breath. "it smells like cinnamon in here."
you're not entirely sure if it's meant to be an insult.
alfie closes the door behind them, already looking faintly apologetic. "ignore her."
"i heard that,", amber says, dropping herself dramatically onto the sofa.
you quietly move the pile of folded clothes out of the way before she crushes them completely.
"thanks," she says absently, though she doesn't really look at you when she says it.
alfie notices.
you can tell he does by the slight tightening in his jaw before he looks back at you instead.
"sorry," he says again.
"it's okay."
and you mean it.
mostly.
he stays standing awkwardly near the kitchen for a second while amber immediately grabs the tv remote like she owns the place.
"why are your lamps so dim?" she asks.
you glance over. "they're just lamps."
"it feels like a yoga studio in here."
"ambs," alfie says tiredly.
she shrugs. "what? it does."
you busy yourself with gathering the last of the laundry just so you have something to do with your hands.
alfie notices that too.
"you were doing something," he says. "we can leave if -"
"no," you cut in quickly. "it's fine."
he studies your face briefly like he's checking whether you actually mean that.
then eventually sits down on the armchair instead of beside amber on the sofa.
you notice that immediately. apparently amber does too.
"alfie," she whines slightly, patting the space beside her. "come here.", alfie groans, "i'm fine here."
she sighs loudly like he's deeply inconvenienced her. "you're so annoying."
he ignores that entirely, looking over at you instead. "where's lottie?"
"date."
his brows lift faintly. "serious one?"
you shrug. "apparently."
instantly, his attention settles fully on you. it's subtle. but obvious enough.
conversation starts naturally after that.
small things at first. work, the weather, how terrible the building maintenance is. easy conversation. familiar now.
you sit on the opposite end of the sofa eventually, knees tucked slightly beneath you while alfie leans back in his chair.
he looks relaxed here. more relaxed than he does in his own flat sometimes.
"chip nearly set a microwave on fire once," he says at one point.
you blink. "how?"
"metal spoon."
"you're lying."
"wish i was."
"he's such an idiot,", amber mutters from the sofa without looking up from her phone.
there's something dismissive in the way she says it that makes the room feel slightly colder. alfie doesn't react much to it this time. just looks back at you instead as you smile faintly.
"i'm serious," he says. "whole kitchen smelled burnt for a week."
you laugh again softly.
and for a second, it feels easy. like before.
like the weird tension never started.
until
"alfie.", amber’s voice cuts through the moment immediately.
he glances over. "what?"
"i'm bored."
"okay?". she sighs dramatically, sitting up straighter now. "can we go do something?"
"my flat literally has no electricity."
"then let's go somewhere else.", he rubs his hand briefly over his face. "it's raining."
"so?"
"so i don't want to.", she huffs loudly, dropping back against the cushions again.
you suddenly feel awkward sitting there. like you're accidentally watching something you shouldn't be.
alfie seems to notice the shift immediately because his attention flicks back to you quickly, expression softening slightly.
"sorry," he mutters quietly.
"you apologise a lot too, actually," you reply before thinking.
his mouth twitches slightly.
"guess it's contagious."
amber looks up again then, eyes narrowing slightly between the two of you.
"are you flirting right now?"
the room goes still for about half a second. your face warms instantly. "what? no."
alfie lets out a quiet breath through his nose, sounding exhausted already. "amber."
"well, you're looking at her weird."
"i'm literally talking to her."
"exactly."
you suddenly become very interested in the sleeve of your hoodie.
alfie shifts forward slightly in the chair, jaw tightening faintly now. "can you not do this?"
"do what?"
"this."
she rolls her eyes dramatically. "oh my god, relax."
silence settles awkwardly after that.
you can feel the warmth drain out of the room slightly.
alfie leans back again slower this time, though his expression's changed now. more closed off. irritated.
amber notices too.
and instead of stopping, she gets clingier.
she gets up from the sofa entirely and moves over toward him, practically dropping herself against the side of his chair.
"babe," she says, dragging the word out slightly. "you're being moody."
he visibly winces at the nickname.
"don't call me that."
"why?"
"because i don't like it."
you look away immediately.
amber just laughs lightly like he's joking, resting her head briefly against his shoulder.
your stomach twists slightly.
and suddenly you feel stupid for ever thinking any of this meant something different.
alfie looks uncomfortable now.
properly uncomfortable.
his eyes flick toward you briefly, almost instinctively, and whatever expression crosses your face must say more than you mean it to because he immediately sits forward slightly, gently moving amber off him.
"alright," he says suddenly. "we should probably go check if the power's back.", he lies.
amber groans loudly. "finally."
he stands up quickly after that. too quickly.
you stand too, more out of politeness than anything.
"you don't have to leave if it's still out," you say quietly.
his eyes meet yours immediately at that.
and for a second he looks like he wants to stay.
then amber’s already grabbing his arm again.
"come on," she says impatiently. something closes off slightly in his expression after that. “yeah," he says quietly.
he heads toward the door while amber walks ahead first, already complaining again about the weather.
you stay where you are.
arms folded loosely across yourself now.
alfie pauses at the door before opening it, glancing back at you one last time.
"thanks for letting us stay."
"it's okay."
the door closes behind them softly.
and the silence afterwards feels far too big for the flat.
you stand there for a second longer than necessary, staring vaguely at the floor.
everything looks exactly the same.
but somehow it feels different now.
worse.
you sink slowly back onto the sofa, pulling your knees up slightly without really thinking.
and for the first time, the thought settles properly into your chest.
authors note: i have been speed writing, i barely edited this so there is probably grammar mistakes, im hoping to write an arthur tv blurb/oneshot soon! happy reading x @peanubeebe
it's around four when you get back, you're walking up the path with your arm linked through lottie's, both of you a bit too caught up in your own conversation to notice anything else straight away.
"i'm serious," she's saying, half laughing, half out of breath, "you cannot keep giving out free pastries just because someone looks at you nicely."
you smile, shaking your head slightly, leaning into her a bit as you walk. "it was a one off."
"it was fucking three times!” she corrects immediately, squeezing your arm lightly. "i counted."
you let out a soft laugh at that, the sound easy, relaxed, your shoulders finally dropping after the day.
"they were nice, and stop watching me, you know it freaks me out" you say.
"you're too nice, it’s gonna kill you" she mutters, but there's no bite to it, just that familiar tone she always uses with you.
you're still smiling when you reach the building, pushing the door open together, the conversation tading into something softer as you step inside.
the hallway is quiet.
and then you see him.
he's just outside his door, keys in hand, like he's only just got back himself. there's a bag slung over his shoulder, something about him slightly more put-together than usual.
alfie looks up and pauses.
just for a second, like he wasn't expecting you to be there at the exact same time.
you slow slightly without meaning to, your arm still linked with lottie's as she follows your gaze, her attention shifting immediately.
"oh," you say, soft, more to yourself than anything.
his expression shifts quickly into something easier, more familiar. "you alright?," he says, stepping back slightly from his door.
"good, yeah," you reply with a nod, a small smile already there before you can stop it.
there's a brief moment where no one really moves, then lottie gently unhooks her arm from yours, just enough to stand a bit more beside you rather than attached, her eyes flicking between the two of you in a way that feels far too observant.
"you sure?" he asks, glancing between you and her, though his attention keeps settling back on you.
"yeah," you nod, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. "just got back."
“right, you work at the bakery?" he asks, like he remembers while rubbing his small beard.
you look a little surprised for a second, then nod again, a bit softer this time. "yeah."
"how was it?"
"busy," you say, but there's a lightness to it, like you don't really mind. "not bad though."
he nods, like that makes sense, shifting his weight slightly. "yeah, i've just come back from—" he gestures vaguely over his shoulder, the bag slipping a little as he does, "a shoot. bit long."
"was it good?" you ask, before you can overthink it.
"yeah," he says, then shrugs slightly. "tiring."
there's a small pause, not awkward, just quiet
lottie clears her throat lightly.
you don't look at her, but you can feel it. the way she's looking between the two of you, the way she's very clearly clocked something you're trying not to acknowledge yet.
you shift your weight slightly, glancing down for a second before looking back up at him. "well, at least you're back now," you say, a little quieter, like it slipped out before you thought about it.
he smiles at that. not big, just enough to soften his face. "yeah."
another pause.
lottie makes a small noise beside you, something suspiciously close to a suppressed laugh.
you finally glance at her, just briefly, and the look she gives you is immediate and unmistakable, raised brows, the faintest smirk, like she's silently saying, well?
your expression shifts almost instantly, a small, warning look in return.
cut it out.
she presses her lips together, trying not to smile wider, but her eyes give her away completely.
he notices something, you can tell, even if he doesn't fully get it. his gaze flicks between the two of you, a hint of confusion there, but he doesn't question it.
instead, he just looks back at you.
and stays there.
you feel it.
it's subtle, but it's enough that you shift slightly again, your fingers brushing together absentmindedly, your attention dipping for a second before coming back up.
"we should probably" you start, glancing toward your door.
"yeah," lottie cuts in quickly, way too quickly to be casual. "we've got stuff to do."
you give her another look at that, a quieter one this time, but she just smiles faintly, completely unbothered.
he nods once, like that makes sense, though he doesn't move straight away. "yeah, course."
there's that small pause again.
then, "i'll see you around, girl" he adds, a bit softer.
you nod, a small smile returning despite yourself. "yeah. see you."
lottie is already turning slightly, heading toward your door, but not before giving you one last look over her shoulder, quick, knowing, and far too amused.
you follow a second later, pulling your keys out, very aware of the way your cheeks feel just a bit warmer than they should.
behind you, you hear his door open, then close.
and as you step inside your flat, lottie doesn't even wait.
"oh my god," she says immediately, low but intense, grabbing your arm again. "what was that."
you let out a quiet groan, dropping your bag down and shaking your head, trying to play it off even as you can still feel it lingering.
"nothing," you say, a bit too quickly.
she just looks at you.
and smiles.
like she doesn't believe you for one second.
a few days pass without much changing.
you see him once or twice in the hallway, nothing long enough to turn into a proper conversation. just small things, a quick smile, a "you alright?" as you pass. easy and normal. the kind of interactions that don't mean anything on their own, but still sit with you a little longer than they should.
it's early when you're leaving for work, earlier than you'd like, lottie just behind you, still fixing her sleeve.
"we're going to be fine," she says, "it's not even that busy today."
you hum softly in response, locking your door before turning, your attention already halfway down the hallway.
and then you stop.
there's something outside his door.
you don't mean to stare, but it's hard not to.
a bouquet. big enough that it's impossible to miss, wrapped neatly, deep red roses standing out against everything else in the hallway. they look fresh and expensive. they were for someone he loved.
lottie follows your line of sight almost immediately. "oh," she says, quieter now.
you don't say anything at first.
you just look at them, your brows pulling together slightly, like you're trying to place why it feels off. it's not your business. it's just flowers. it shouldn't mean anything.
but it does.
"someone's done something right," lottie adds lightly, though her tone shifts a little at the end, like she's watching you more than the flowers.
you let out a small breath, something that almost sounds like a laugh, but doesn't quite reach that point. "yeah," you say, nodding once.
your eyes linger for a second longer than they need to.
and without really thinking about it, your mind fills in the gaps.
the girl.
tall, blonde, effortlessly put together, standing in his doorway like she belonged there. the way she'd looked at you, like you were an interruption more than anything else. amber
it makes sense.
of course it does.
you glance away, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder like that's what you were focusing on the whole time. "we should go," you say, a bit quieter now.
lottie doesn't move straight away.
"reader," she says gently, not pushing, just enough to get your attention.
you look at her, expression neutral enough, like nothing's changed.
"it might not be what you think," she adds, careful, like she already knows you don't want to talk about it.
you give a small shrug, the kind that brushes things off without fully meaning to. "it's not what i think," you say. "it's only flowers."
she studies you for a second, then nods slowly, not arguing, but not fully convinced.
"right," she says.
you take one last glance toward the door without meaning to.
the roses haven't moved, obviously. still just sitting there, waiting.
you turn away before you can think about it any more, stepping toward the stairs.
"come on," you say, a little lighter than you feel. "we'll be late."
lottie follows beside you, close enough that your arms brush as you walk.
and as you head out, the image lingers anyway.
the bakery is quiet in that soft, steady way it sometimes gets mid-morning, where everything feels a little slower and the air smells warm and familiar.
there's no rush, no line out the door, just the low hum of the fridge, the faint clink of cups, and the occasional sound of someone passing by outside.
you're behind the counter, leaning slightly forward as you fold a small paper bag closed, sliding it across with a gentle smile. "there you go, jane."
"thank you, love," she says, her voice warm and worn in the nicest way, like she's been saying it like that for years.
she carefully takes the bag, peeking inside even though she already knows what's there.
"croissant again" you ask lightly, resting your hands on the counter.
"always," she says with a small smile. "you do them properly here."
you smile back at that, a little softer. "i'll take that."
lottie is just behind you, wiping down the side counter, only half paying attention to the conversation, but smiling anyway like she always does when jane comes in.
"you girls keeping busy?" jane asks, glancing between you both.
"trying to," lottie answers before you can, tone easy. "it's one of the quieter days."
jane nods, like she approves of that, then steps aside slowly, settling near the window with her bag.
you turn slightly, reaching for the next set of cups but the door opens.
you don't look up straight away, just register it in the background, the soft chime and the shift in air. it's only when you hear a voice that doesn't quite fit the space that your attention lifts.
"this place is so...hippie."
you freeze but your eyes flick up.
he's there and she is too.
the same girl from before, tall, blonde, put together in a way that feels sharp against the softness of the bakery.
she's looking around like she's trying to place what exactly is wrong with it, her expression not even subtle about it.
you feel something small shift in your chest.
"it's not," he says, a little firmer than expected, glancing at her briefly before looking back ahead. "just don't."
amber rolls her eyes slightly, not making a big deal out of it, but not backing down either. "i'm just saying."
he doesn't respond to that, just steps forward instead, moving up to the counter.
and then he sees you.
there's that same brief pause as before, that moment where his expression changes just slightly, like something softer settles in without him meaning it to.
"morning," you reply, keeping your tone even, though it comes out a little quieter than you expect.
lottie glances between the two of you immediately, picking up on it without effort, but she stays quiet, just leaning back slightly against the counter.
there's a small pause before you straighten slightly, shifting back into something more professional. "what can i get you?"
he glances up at the menu briefly, though it doesn't look like he's really reading it. "just a coffee. and" he looks back at you, then gestures vaguely toward the display. "one of those."
you follow his gesture, nodding. "yeah, okay."
you turn slightly, reaching for a cup, aware of the quiet behind you.
she has already moved away, sitting down at one of the tables with a small, impatient sigh, like she's already bored of being there.
you can feel it without looking.
you make the coffee quickly, something automatic in your hands, something to focus on.
"and for your girlfriend?" you ask as you place the cup down, the words coming out before you've fully thought about them.
"she's not my girlfriend."
it's immediate. you look up, just slightly.
he's already shaking his head, like he needs to correct it properly. "she's just. she's a friend."
you nod once, a small movement, like you accept that, even if you hadn't asked for an explanation.
"right," you say softly.
he glances back toward where she's sitting, then back at you, something unreadable flickering across his expression for a second before it settles again.
"she'll probably just-" he gestures vaguely, like he doesn't want to explain it fully. "yeah."
you don't push it. just nod again, sliding the rest of his order across.
he pays quickly, barely looking away from you for long, like his attention keeps drifting back without him noticing.
"thanks," he says, a little quieter now.
"of course," you reply.
there's a small pause, like there was something else he might've said if the moment had stretched a second longer.
but it doesn't.
he picks up the coffee, glancing back toward the table where she's waiting, already looking at her phone, tapping her nails lightly against the surface.
he hesitates, just for a second.
then, "i'll see you," he says, softer again.
you nod. "yeah."
he gives a small nod back, then turns, heading over to her.
you don't watch for long.
just enough to see him sit down, say something to her that you can't hear.
then you look away, focusing back on the counter, your hands moving without much thought as you straighten something that doesn't really need straightening.
lottie waits a second.
then, quietly, "interesting."
you don't respond straight away.
you just pick up a cloth, wiping down the counter slowly, your expression neutral enough.
"he said she's not his girlfriend," she adds, watching you carefully.
"i know," you say, tone light, like it doesn't matter.
and maybe it doesn't.
but the thought lingers anyway.
you don't go straight home after your shift.
you tell yourself you will. that you'll go back, maybe finally unpack something properly, sit down for five minutes without thinking about anything. but your feet don't take you there.
they slow outside the bakery, hover for a second, and then turn the other way like the decision was already made for you.
lottie had told you she needed to go brief shopping, leaving you alone.
it's colder than you expected.
not properly cold, just enough that it settles into your sleeves and stays there, quiet and constant.
you pull your jacket a little tighter around yourself as you walk, your bag hanging heavier on your shoulder than it should.
the london streets are busy in that late afternoon, people heading home, conversations overlapping, cars passing too close, but it all feels slightly distant, like you're not fully in it.
like you're just moving through it.
you don't rush, there's no point.
the closer you get, the slower your steps become, not obvious enough for anyone else to notice, but enough that you feel it.
like something in you is trying to hold the moment off just a little longer.
the hospital comes into view too quickly anyway.
it always does.
you stop just outside for a second, standing near the entrance, watching people come and go like it's any other place. some of them look tired, some of them don't.
some of them laugh. it feels wrong every time, how normal it looks from the outside.
you take a breath, then another.
and then you push the doors open.
inside, it's warm. too warm, almost. the kind that makes your skin feel sticky, like you don't belong in it. everything smells faintly clinical, clean.
you walk past reception without stopping, your steps quieter now, more careful. you already know where you're going.
you always do.
the corridors feel longer than they should.
white walls, soft lighting, the occasional sound of a machine somewhere behind a door. voices, low and controlled, like everyone is trying not to take up too much space.
you pass rooms without looking inside.
you've learned not to, it makes it easier.
you turn the last corner slowly, and there it is.
her room.
your hand rests lightly against the door, not pushing, just there. like you need a second to remind yourself how to do this.
because it never gets easier, not really.
you push it open gently, she's awake.
you can tell before you even fully step inside, just from the way she's lying there, eyes open, looking toward the window like she's been watching the same thing for a while.
she turns her head slightly when she hears the door.
and then she smiles, and it hits you the same way it always does.
because it's still her, just less.
"hi, baby," she says, her voice softer than it used to be, thinner, but still warm in that same way that makes your chest tighten.
you smile back, stepping inside, closing the door quietly behind you. "hi mummy”, your voice cracks.
you move closer to the bed, setting your bag down by the chair like you've done this a hundred times before, because you have.
your movements are careful without meaning to be, like everything here needs to be handled gently.
"you didn't have to come today," she says, watching you as you sit down beside her.
you shake your head lightly. "i wanted to."
she hums softly at that, like she believes you, like she always does.
there's a small pause.
you look at her properly now, and it's different every time.
not suddenly, not dramatically. just small things. things that shift slowly enough that you almost convince yourself they're not changing at all.
but they are.
her hands rest on top of the blanket, lighter than you remember. her face paler and a tired look resting on it. like everything takes more effort now, even just being awake.
you reach out without thinking, adjusting the edge of the blanket slightly where it's folded wrong.
she watches you do it, a small smile still there.
"you've been busy," she says. you nod once. "yeah. bakery's been normal."
"that's good," she murmurs. "normal is good."
you smile a little at that, though it doesn't quite reach your eyes.
"you've moved in properly now?" she asks after a moment. “mostly," you say. "still a bit of a mess."
she lets out the faintest breath of a laugh. "i'd expect nothing less."
you huff softly, looking down for a second. "it's not that bad."
"i'm sure it isn't."
her voice is gentle, teasing in that quiet way she's always had, even now.
you swallow slightly, there's so much you could say, about the flat. about work. about him.
but none of it feels important enough to bring into this room. so you don't.
you just sit there, your hand resting lightly against the edge of the bed, close enough that you could reach hers if you wanted to.
you don't, though, not yet. because that makes it feel too real.
and for a few minutes, you let it stay like this instead, quiet, soft, suspended somewhere between normal and something else entirely.
like if you don't move too quickly, it might stay that way a little longer.
you don't remember leaving the room properly.
one minute you're there, sitting beside her, holding her hand like if you just stay long enough it might change something, and the next you're standing outside again, the door closed behind you.
everything after that feels muted.
you walk through the corridors slower than before, your steps quieter, like you don't want to disturb anything even though no one's paying attention.
the same white walls, the same soft lighting, the same low voices but it all feels heavier now.
you keep your eyes down this time.
the automatic doors slide open when you reach them, and the outside air hits you straight away, cooler and sharper, a bit too real after how still everything felt inside.
you pause just outside without meaning to.
your hands stay in your jacket pockets, your shoulders slightly hunched like you're holding something in place.
then you start walking.
you don't rush. there's nowhere you need to be immediately, no one waiting. the world keeps moving around you anyway, cars passing, people talking, someone laughing too loudly across the street, but it all feels distant.
like it's happening on the other side of something you can't quite step through.
your mind doesn't settle on one thought.
it just drifts.
back to the room. to her voice.
your throat tightens slightly and you swallow it down.
you pass familiar streets without really noticing them, your feet moving on their own, following a route you've taken enough times that you don't have to think about it.
your reflection catches briefly in a shop window as you go by.
you glance at it for half a second, then away again, like you don't quite recognise the expression there.
you feel tired.
not the kind that sleep fixes. just heavy.
you think about going straight home.
about walking in, maybe sitting down, letting it settle. but even that feels like too much right now, so you keep walking a bit longer than you need to.
the sky's starting to dim slightly, that soft shift into evening where everything loses a bit of its colour. streetlights flicker on one by one, casting that faint glow across the pavement.
you pull your sleeves down over your hands, tucking your fingers into the fabric, more out of habit than anything else.
your mum's voice lingers.
not the words exactly, just the sound of it. the way she said your name. the way she still sounds like herself, even now.
it makes your chest ache in a way you don't really have a name for.
you blink slowly, your eyes stinging slightly, but nothing falls. it just sits there instead, like everything else.
when your building finally comes into view, you slow again.
going back means everything continues. the same routine, the same spaces, the same thoughts you've been trying not to sit with for too long.
you reach the door, pushing it open quietly, stepping inside.
the hallway is still, it always is.
you stand there for a second, just inside, your hand still resting lightly against the door after it closes.
the hallway is quiet when you step inside.
your eyes sting.
you blink it away quickly, pressing your lips together, pulling yourself back into something that resembles normal before you move.
it's fine. you're fine.
your steps are slower than usual, your bag slipping slightly on your shoulder as you adjust it without really thinking. your gaze stays low, fixed somewhere ahead but not really focusing on anything.
and then a door opens.
you look up.
he's stepping out of his flat, pulling the door shut behind him, like he's only just come out for something quick. his head tilts slightly when he sees you, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before it settles into something more familiar.
"oh, alright?”, he says, easy, like always.
you stop slightly.
"yeah," you reply, your voice quieter than usual, flatter.
he notices immediately. of course he does.
his brows pull together just a little, like he's trying to place what's different. his eyes linger on your face for a second longer than normal, catching the slight redness in your eyes, the way you're not quite holding yourself the same.
he doesn't look convinced.
"you sure?" he adds, taking a small step closer, not enough to crowd you, just enough to show he means it.
you shift slightly, your grip tightening on your bag strap. "i'm fine," you repeat, a bit more blunt this time.
the words sit there between you.
not harsh, just closed.
something in his expression changes, not hurt exactly, just confused, like he's trying to work out what he's done wrong without any of the context.
"right," he says slowly.
there's a small silence.
you don't fill it.
you can't. you wont.
your throat feels tight, your thoughts still somewhere else entirely, still in that room, still with her. everything here feels a bit too sharp in comparison.
he shifts his weight slightly, glancing at you again, like he's about to say something else.
"alf?"
the voice cuts through the quiet from behind him.
you don't need to look to know.
but you do anyway.
she's there. she always fucking is.
standing just inside his doorway, leaning slightly against the frame like she belongs there. the shirt she's wearing is his- you can tell without thinking about it too much- and it hangs loosely enough
her hair's a little messy, her expression glassy in a way that feels too intimate for the space you're standing in.
"come back to bed," she says lightly, like it's nothing.
like you're not even there.
your body goes still.
completely.
for a second, everything just stops.
your eyes flick between them, your expression not quite settling into anything just a brief, unguarded moment of something that looks a bit like shock before you catch it too late.
he turns back toward her quickly. "ambs" he starts, a bit sharper than before, like he didn't expect that.
but it's already happened.
you've already seen it.
and suddenly everything else, the flowers, the way he looked at you, the things he said, it all shifts slightly, just enough to feel wrong.
your chest tightens.
you don't say anything. you don't trust yourself to.
instead, you just nod once, small, like you're acknowledging something that wasn't said out loud, and step past him before he can stop you.
"see you," you murmur, barely audible.
you don't look back and you certainly don't wait.
you just walk straight to your door, your hands moving a little too quickly as you pull your keys out, the metal slipping slightly against your shaking fingers.
you can feel it now, properly, the weight of everything hitting all at once, the tightness in your throat, the way your vision blurs just slightly at the edges.
you step inside and close the door behind you a little faster than you meant to.
the click echoes louder than it should.
and for a second, you just stand there again, back against the door, your hand still gripping the handle like you need something solid to hold onto.
