You heard him shouting from the pitch, emotions raw,  just before he covered his face with both hands and started pacing in tight, frustrated circles. The Argentinians were celebrating wildly right in front of him, cheering, bodies jumping. His jaw was clenched so tight it looked painful, eyes squeezed shut like he was physically willing himself to not explode publicly. Then one of the opposing players said something in Spanish – you couldn’t hear or understand what –and Jude lashed out, slapping the back of the player’s head in a flash of blind frustration.

You and Denise both shot to your feet at the same time. His mum muttered something under her breath that sounded a lot like “for fuck’s sake, Jude,” her hand flying to her mouth as you all watched the brief altercation unfold. Luckily the England lads were quick, pulling him away, keeping him wrapped up and shielded from the cameras as best they could.

He finished his post-match interviews and finally made his way over to the family section. You could tell from the way he kept hiding his face under the brim of his cap that he was pissed off he couldn’t stop the tears. Pissed off he couldn’t stop those late goals. Pissed off he couldn’t score more, contribute more, do whatever it took to push England over the line. He would have sacrificed almost anything tonight to get them to the final.

He hugged his parents first. Denise held him tight, rubbing his back in slow circles, whispering things only a mother could say. Mark gripped him hard, proud even in defeat, murmuring quiet words of reassurance. But their comfort seemed to ricochet off Jude’s body. He was vibrating with anger, with frustration, with a deep, burning disappointment that lived in his chest after every loss with England.

When he finally sat down next to you, his hand automatically latched onto your thigh, gripping like you were the only steady thing left in his world. You watched as his knee bounced restlessly, as he ran his hand over his face again and tugged his cap even lower, trying to disappear under it.

“Jude, hey… hey… look at me,” you said softly.

He turned his head slowly, propping his chin on his fist. The muscles in his jaw ticked hard. He was devastated, that much was clear in his red-rimmed eyes. But underneath it you could see the anger simmering; at himself, at the way it had slipped away again, at the fact that no matter how hard he ran, how much he gave, it still wasn’t enough to cross that final line for England.

You reached out and gently wiped under his eye with your thumb. He turned his head and pressed a soft, grateful kiss to your palm, lingering there for a second like he needed the contact to soothe his very soul. Then his eyes drifted away again, distant and unfocused, staring down at the now-empty pitch where the Argentina celebrations had finally started to die down.

The silence between you stretched, heavy and painful. His hand stayed on your thigh, thumb brushing back and forth absently, like he needed something to anchor him to reality and not let him get lost inside his head.

“Can you come to my room later?” he muttered eventually, voice low and rough, barely above a whisper. “I don’t… I don’t wanna be alone tonight.”

You nodded instantly, heart twisting at how small he sounded. “Yes… yeah, of course, baby. Whatever you need. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He let out a shaky breath, shoulders dropping ever so slightly. “Don’t wanna keep crying out here,” he admitted quietly, almost embarrassed. “Not with everyone still watching. Just… need it to be you. Need it to be quiet.”

You squeezed his hand, leaning your head against his shoulder for a moment. “I’ve got you. I promise. As soon as you’re back at the hotel, I’ll come straight to you. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

Jude turned his head slightly, pressing another soft kiss to the top of your head. His voice was barely audible when he spoke again.

“Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you tonight.”

You got to his hotel room just after the sun had set, the sky outside still bleeding orange and pink. He’d texted you very bluntly earlier, the way he got when the pain was still too fresh to soften for anyone, even you.

Consequently, you weren’t expecting him to be in a fantastic mood when you finally knocked on his door. He always came down to the lobby to collect you, no matter how tired he was. Not tonight.

“Who is it?” came his voice, sharp.

You could hear him moving inside, pacing, up and down the room like a caged animal.

“It’s me, bab–”

You hadn’t finished your sentence before the door swung open. He pulled you inside and shut the door behind you before you could even blink. His chest was heaving. The second you were over the threshold he let go of you, stepping back like he needed space but also couldn’t stand being far away from you. There were fresh tear streaks down his face that he was angrily wiping away with the heel of his hand. He was being so hard on himself. It broke your heart all over again.

“Do you think I had a shit game?” he asked bluntly, voice a little cold, eyes burning with more tears.

“What? No, I—”

“Good. Because what more could I have fucking done?” He started pacing again, hands tugging at his hair. “I ran until my legs felt like they were going to snap. I covered every blade of grass. I created chances. I defended when I had to. And it still wasn’t enough.”

You sat on the edge of his bed, watching him, heart aching as the words poured out of him.

“Jude… you gave everything out there. Everyone saw that. I saw that.”

“Yeah?” He stopped pacing for a second, eyes flashing. “Well it wasn’t enough, was it? The second goal was right in the middle of the fucking goal. Right there. We had six defenders on the fucking pitch. Six! I’m not a defender! How did we let that happen? How did I not see it coming? I should’ve been there. Should’ve been closer to the ball. I should’ve done more.”

You tried to keep your voice steady. “You can’t carry the whole team on your back every single—”

“I wasn’t trying to carry the whole team,” he cut in, voice rising. “I was trying to win! And we were winning. We were in control. And then it just… slipped. Again. Like it always fucking does–”

He cut himself off with a bitter laugh, shaking his head. His eyes were glassy again, angry tears threatening to spill over. He wiped them away roughly, like they personally offended him.

“Baby, you’re being too hard on yourself—”

“Don’t,” he snapped, but there was no real anger directed at you, just frustration spilling out of him any way it could. “Don’t tell me I’m being too hard on myself. I know what I saw out there. I know what I felt. We were better than that. I was better than that. I always think I can do more and then it’s the same story. We get so fucking close and then—”

You stood up slowly, reaching for him. “Jude, hey… look at me.”

He shook his head, running a hand over his face, body shaking with the tears he was trying to hold back.

“I’m so fucking tired of this. Tired of getting to the last stages and watching it slip away. Tired of the ‘nearly men’ narrative. Tired of people saying we don’t have the mentality when we just went toe-to-toe with the world champions for ninety minutes. What more do they want from us? From me?”

His voice cracked on the last word. He stopped pacing for a second, chest rising and falling fast, fists clenched at his sides. The room felt too small for all the fury and grief rolling off him.

You reached for him again, and he let you pull him in, but his body stayed rigid, vibrating.

“What can I do to make it better then?” you asked softly, stroking his back. “If you don’t want me to criticise the self-blame, then how can I help?”

“I don’t know!” His voice cracked, frustration and pain mixing together. “You can’t. I’m just– I’m so fucking angry and–and–”

He cut himself off, breathing hard. For a second it looked like he might pull away. His face crumpled, eyebrows knitting together as a choked off sob escaped him.

“Baby…baby it’s okay–”

“It’s not okay. Nothing feels okay,” he sniffled, tucking his head into your neck. You stroked his back, not sure what to do next. He was so fragile but so angry. You’d never seen him like this before.

“I know and I’m so sorry, Jude,” you whispered, kissing the top of his cheek as you held him close. “Tell me how to help you. I’ll do anything to make you feel a little bit better. Just tell me what you need.”

He lifted his head for a second, wet eyes meeting yours. He looked over your face slowly, like he was searching for something, before his gaze lingered on your lips. You wanted to say something else, anything to help pull him out of the spiral, but he was so focused on your mouth that the self-deprecating words had finally stopped pouring out of him.

“Baby?” you breathed softly.

His grip on your waist tightened almost painfully within seconds. He pulled you flush against him, mouth crashing down on yours in a bruising kiss. There was nothing gentle about it. It was desperate, angry, hungry, like he wanted to drown how he was feeling out with how good your lips felt against his.

You gasped into his mouth and he swallowed the sound, walking you backwards until your back hit the wall. One hand slid into your hair, tugging hard enough to tilt your head back as he deepened the kiss, tongue sliding against yours with desperate need.

“I don’t want to fight with you,” he murmured against your lips, voice rough with emotion, almost apologetic even as his body pressed harder against you. “I’m not trying to take it out on you. I just…”

He broke off, breathing hard, forehead pressed to yours. His eyes were still glassy with frustration and leftover tears, but there was something else burning in them now – a desperate, almost feral hunger he only had for you.

“I need you,” he rasped, voice cracking. “I need you to remind me who the fuck I am. Need you to make me feel like me again. Strong. In control. Not this… this version that keeps fucking up.”

His hand slid down to grip your thigh, lifting it around his hip as he ground his hardening bulge against you. “Want to fuck you so deep you forget every other name but mine,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear, voice dropping into the filthy, dominant tone he only used when he was desperate. “Want you screaming for me. Want to feel you fall apart on my cock so I can remember who I am. The one who takes what he wants. The one who always wins with you.”

He kissed you again, harder this time, biting your bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue.

“Tell me you want this,” he breathed, eyes dark and wild, hips rolling against you in a slow, filthy grind. “Tell me it’s okay to be rough tonight. Tell me you can take it. Because I need to feel like me again, baby. Need to feel like I own something. Like I own you.”

His fingers dug into your thigh, possessive and trembling with the emotions still raging inside him.

“Please,” he whispered, forehead still pressed to yours. “Let me have you like this.”

You hesitated for a second, searching his eyes. You weren’t entirely sure this was the healthiest way for him to process everything he was feeling…the anger, the grief, the powerlessness from the pitch. But this was Jude, and you didn’t think you could ever say no to him when he looked at you like that, desperate and aching and needing to feel something real.

You cupped his cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear, and nodded.

“I can take it,” you whispered. “I’ll take anything you give me. You know I will.”

Relief and hunger flashed across his face at the same time. He squeezed your thigh again, leaning down to kiss you slightly softer at first, but quickly turning deeper, tongue sliding against yours with need and dominance.

“That’s because you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” he murmured against your lips, his accent thicker with emotion. “My beautiful baby. Always know what I need. Always let me have you exactly how I want.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you. Your eyes were already glazing over, the soft, submissive look he loved so much taking over. It didn’t take much when he spoke to you like that.

“Yeah?” he asked, almost teasing even through the emotions still raging in his chest. “You gonna let me fuck all this frustration out on you, baby? Let me remind myself who the fuck I am?”

You nodded, already a little breathless. “Yes, Jude.”

That was all he needed. In one smooth, powerful movement he spun you around, pressing your front against the wall. Your cheek met the cool surface as he yanked your jeans and panties down your legs in one rough tug, barely giving you time to step out of them. His big hands immediately palmed your ass, squeezing, spreading, smoothing over your hips like he was reclaiming every bit of skin for himself.

“Fuck, look at you,” he groaned, pressing his still-clothed erection against your bare ass from behind, grinding slow and hard. “Perfect arse. So fucking pretty for me. Bet you’re so wet already and I’ve barely touched you.”

You whimpered as his lips attacked your neck, sucking and biting while his hands slid under your t-shirt, pushing it up so he could feel your skin. One hand stayed on your hip, holding you in place, the other moved up to cup your breast. “Tell me you’re my beautiful girl,” he growled against your ear, voice thick. “Tell me this pussy belongs to me. Tell me you’re mine.”

“I-I’m your beautiful girl, Jude,” you moaned, pushing back against him. “Belong to you… only you.”

He let out a low, satisfied sound and bit down on your shoulder, grinding his cock against you harder.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice dropping even lower. “Gonna fuck you right here first. Gonna make you take it so deep. I’m the only one, aren’t I? The only one who makes you scream.”

He shoved his own joggers down just enough to free himself, thick and hot, pulsing with the need to be inside of you. You felt the head of his cock drag through your folds, teasing your entrance.

“Tell me again,” he demanded, lips brushing your ear. “Tell me who you belong to while I fuck you against this wall.”

“I’m yours, Jude,” you gasped, pushing back against him. “Only yours.”

He wanted to tease you for longer, but how could he when you were so good and obedient for him? He thrust into you in one smooth, powerful stroke, burying himself deep. His hands stayed on your hips as he watched himself disappear inside you and groaned. The stretch was intense, overwhelming, and you cried out, hands bracing against the wall. Jude moaned as you clenched around him, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he stayed still for a second, letting you adjust.

“Fuck… always feel so tight,” he moaned lowly. “My pretty girl.”

Then he started moving with deep, rough strokes that pressed you harder into the wall with every thrust. One hand stayed on your hip, gripping tight enough to leave behind red marks, the other slid up to wrap around your throat, a possessive hold that had your eyes rolling back already. “Say it again,” he growled against your ear, hips snapping forward. “Tell me whose pussy this is.”

“Yours,” you moaned, voice breaking on every deep thrust. “It’s yours, Jude. All yours.”

He groaned, the sound vibrating through his chest as he fucked you harder, deeper, the obscene slap of skin on skin filling the room. His pace was relentless but never cruel.  Every thrust  was purposeful, like he was trying to fuck the frustration and self doubt out of his system and into you.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised, lips brushing your neck between strokes, his voice loving despite his actions being quite the opposite. “Taking my cock so well. Letting me use you like this. Fuck, I needed this. Needed to feel like I can still make you feel good. Still make you mine.”

You whimpered, pushing back to meet his thrusts, and he rewarded you with a particularly deep, grinding stroke that made your knees buckle.

“Tell me you love it,” he breathed hot against your ear. “Tell me you love when I fuck you like this. When I take what’s mine.”

“I love it,” you gasped, cheek pressed to the cool wall. “Love when you fuck me like this, Jude. Love being yours.”

He let out a long moan and wrapped a strong arm around your waist, pulling you back against him so he could thrust even deeper. His free hand slid between your legs, fingers finding your clit and rubbing slow, gentle circles.

The difference between his relentless thrusts, but slow and gentle hands made your vision start to cloud white with stars already. “J-Jude I’m gonna come–”

“No you’re not, baby,” he rasped, slowing his hips enough to tease you. “Not until I tell you to. Hold it for me. Good girl… fuck, you squeeze me so tight when you get close. You’re so fucking wet for me.”

“Please–” you whimpered, thighs trembling.

“Nuh-uh. Not allowed until I get to come with you,” he murmured, sucking on your neck. “You’re gonna hold it for me, aren’t you, angel?”

You nodded frantically, trying desperately to hold off your climax by squeezing your eyes shut. He gave you a small mercy, pulling his fingers away from between your legs and bringing them up to your lips instead.

“Open, baby. Taste yourself for me.”

You obeyed instantly, parting your lips and sucking his fingers into your mouth, moaning around them as his hips sped back up to the punishing pace. The taste of yourself on his skin only made everything feel more intense.

“Fuckin’ hell… just like that, baby,” he moaned, tilting his head to watch your pretty lips envelope his fingers. “Look at you. Sucking my fingers while I fuck you against the wall. My perfect girl.”

The sounds he was making, the low and desperate groans and breathy curses, were not making it any easier to hold back. You whimpered, opening your eyes to give him a pleading look. He exhaled through his nose as he bit his lip, eyes rolling back slightly, the look on your face nearly sending him hurtling towards his own orgasm. He suddenly pulled out, spinning you around to face him. Before you could protest, he kissed you hard, tongue sliding against yours as he lifted you up, pressing your back to the wall again.

“My beautiful girl is gonna make me come too quick,” he murmured against your lips, a dark chuckle vibrating through him. “Especially if you keep looking at me like that. We’re gonna change position so I can hold it a little longer. Yeah, angel?”

He spoke to you slowly like you were stupid, and you were, you suppose considering he’d just fucked you dumb against the wall. Normally you’d fight back, push against the power play because he loved when you were bratty, but that wasn’t what he needed tonight. He wanted complete submission, and you’d give him anything he wanted.

“P-please,” you whined, chasing his mouth when he pulled back slightly, hands clutching at his biceps. “Need you back inside me, Jude…”

“Oh, my needy little baby,” he smirked wickedly, nuzzling his nose against yours, eyes still burning with a mix of frustration and hunger. His hand smoothed up your arm, and wrapped loosely around your throat. “Open your mouth for me,” he whispered. You parted your lips straight away at his command, tongue out, eyes locked on his. His gaze darkened, pupils blown wide as he looked at you, waiting for him. He leaned in closer, hovering above you, and let a slow, thick string of spit fall from his mouth onto your waiting tongue. You moaned softly as it landed and swallowed it down without hesitation, eyes never leaving his.

Jude groaned deeply as his thumb stroked up and down your throat, feeling you swallow.

“Fuck… that’s my good girl,” he praised, voice hoarse. “Swallowing for me so pretty. You’d take anything I give you, wouldn’t you?”

You nodded, lips still parted, breathing a little faster. 

“I want all your clothes off. Get on all fours on the bed. Now.”

You nodded again, still too drunk on submission to speak, stripping off your T-shirt and bra as fast as you could. Jude kicked his joggers and boxers off, throwing his own T-shirt across the room. He was leaking as he stroked himself slowly, watching you climb onto the bed.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his voice softer than it was before. “Can’t believe you’re all mine sometimes. Look at you… arching that pretty back for me already.”

The second you were on all fours, you automatically arched deeper for him, presenting yourself. Jude climbed onto the bed behind you, leaning down to press hot, open-mouthed kisses down your spine. His big hands settled on your hips, squeezing gently as he lined himself up. You were trembling with need now, feeling cold and empty without him inside you.

“Such a good girl,” he praised, dragging the thick head of his cock through your soaked, oversensitive heat again. “You love when I use you, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, pushing back against him desperately.

He didn’t make you wait this time. In one powerful thrust he buried himself to the hilt, stretching you open again so suddenly you cried out louder than before. Jude moaned loudly, the sound almost animalistic as he bottomed out.

“Fuck– so tight. So fucking good,” he growled, pulling back almost all the way before slamming back in. His pace was brutal from the start – deep, hard thrusts that rocked your entire body forward with every snap of his hips. The sound of the headboard hitting the wall echoed through the room.

He reached forward, fisting your hair and pulling your head back to arch your back more.

“Scream my name, baby,” he demanded. “Want to hear you. Want the whole fucking hotel to know who’s fucking you this good.”

“Jude– oh my god, Jude!” you cried out as he hit the specific spot inside you over and over. He knew your body better than you did. You could’ve sworn you could feel him in your stomach.

“That’s it. Louder. Let me hear how much you love my cock,” he groaned, one hand coming down hard on your ass with a sharp smack. The sting made you clench around him, and he moaned loudly. “Fuck yes. Again.”

He spanked you again, harder this time, the sound echoing as he kept pounding into you relentlessly.

“You’re mine,” he growled, voice breaking with pleasure. “Say it. Tell me who this pussy belongs to again while I fuck you stupid.”

“It’s yours!” you sobbed, tears of overwhelming pleasure spilling down your cheeks. “It’s yours, Jude– only yours– fuck!”

He let out a wrecked moan and leaned over you, chest pressed to your back as he fucked you even deeper, one arm wrapped around your waist to hold you in place while his other hand reached down to rub your clit again in tight, fast circles.

“Come for me,” he ordered, rough and desperate. “Come on my cock like the good little slut you are for me. Let me feel you. Scream my fucking name when you do.”

You shattered hard, screaming his name as your orgasm crashed through you, walls clenching violently around him. Jude fucked you through it, hips never stopping, groaning loudly as your climax milked him.

“Fuck– that’s my girl. So good. So fucking good for me,” he panted, voice breaking with pleasure. “Gonna fill you up. Gonna come so deep inside you. You’re gonna take every drop, yeah?”

“Yes– please, Jude– please come inside me,” you begged weakly, still shaking from your orgasm.

With a final, deep thrust and a loud, broken moan of your name, Jude came hard, burying himself as deep as possible as he spilled inside you, hips stuttering with the force of it. He kept grinding through it, like he couldn’t bear to stop, whispering filthy praise against your ear the whole time.

When he finally stilled, he stayed buried deep inside you, chest heaving against your back, arms wrapped tightly around you as he pressed soft, reverent kisses along your shoulder.

“God… I  fucking love you,” he whispered, his voice shaky. 

“I love you too baby,” you manage to get out, body feeling limp and hazy with the come down. 

The switch happened so quickly you could barely keep up. The anger drained out of him at once, probably with his orgasm, you’d tease him later when you spoke about it. All Jude felt when he heard your soft voice was exhaustion and a sudden wave of nauseating worry. He carefully pulled out, a soft hiss escaping both of you, and immediately turned you around in his arms so you were facing him. His hands were gentle now, too gentle, as he cupped your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, voice cracking. His eyes were wide, searching your face desperately. He was so expressive with his face, eyebrows furrowing in the sweetest way. “Baby, tell me the truth. Was I too rough? I didn’t mean to– fuck, I was so angry and I just… I needed you so bad.”

You shook your head, still catching your breath, but he was already looking you over, hands sliding down your body with careful tenderness. He turned you slightly, eyes scanning your hips, your ass, the places he’d gripped hard.

“Shit… there’s marks,” he whispered, sounding devastated as his fingers traced the faint red imprints of his hands on your hips and the light handprint on your ass. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be that rough. This time it wasn’t just…it wasn’t just dominance or playing. I was actually angry and I took it out on you and I–”

“Jude,” you said softly, cupping his face to stop his spiral. He looked up and met your eyes, bottom lip between his teeth with worry. “I’m okay. I wanted it. I wanted you. You didn’t hurt me. You’ve been more rough before, you’ve left marks on me before. Don’t worry. You’re okay…I'm okay..”

He still looked torn, eyes glassy again but this time with guilt instead of rage. He pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you so tightly it was almost crushing, burying his face in your neck like he could hide from what he’d just done.

“I know I’ve been rough with you before,” he mumbled against your skin, his voice shaking. “But that’s always been… playing. Power play and acting and shit. This time it was real. I was actually angry and frustrated and I took it out on your body and I– fuck, I’m scared I hurt you because I couldn’t control it. I never want you to feel like you have to take my bad days. I’d never hurt you just because I’m upset or angry. You’re the one person who makes everything better and I just used you like that and I feel sick about it.”

You stroked his back slowly, pressing soft kisses to his temple and the side of his head.

“Jude, listen to me,” you whispered. “I wanted it. I wanted all of you – the anger, the need, everything. You didn’t use me. You let me be there for you in any way I could. And I’m okay. I promise. You know I like it when you act like that.”

He made a small, upset sound and held you even tighter, legs tangling with yours as he pulled you fully on top of him. His hands roamed gently over your body now, soothingly checking every place he’d been rough, pressing soft kisses wherever his fingers found faint marks.

“I’m sorry,” he kept whispering between kisses. “I’m so sorry, baby. I love you. I love you so much. You’re everything to me.”

You kept holding him, fingers running through his hair, letting him cling to you until the guilt slowly started to ease and he could finally breathe again. He eventually settled with his face buried back in your neck, breathing you in like you were oxygen, one hand still gently rubbing your hip where he’d gripped you earlier.

“Stay like this,” he murmured. “Don’t let go. Please.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I love you, you’re okay Jude.” He let out a long, shaky breath, finally relaxing completely in your arms. "I love you more," he whispered, voice slurring with sleep. "M'sorry baby..."

He was still feeling bad about how rough he was. In reality, you think it could've been the best sex you'd ever had. You were going to tell him that, but the change in his breathing told you he'd already fallen asleep. You press one last gentle kiss to his forehead, "there's nothing to be sorry for, my love."

tags: @chabelitalace @thesizzler @hvnsinureyes @harryskissies (let me know if u want to be added/removed from the taglist)

Can’t stop thinking about how riding him would be so hot.

Like, yes, we know he’s fucking attractive but i think sex with him is hotter because he wants you to use him to make yourself feel good and he doesn’t mind one bit.

He keeps himself trimmed instead of waxing or shaving completely because he pays attention when you’re riding him and knows how good you feel when you’re grinding your clit on his pubes and he’s just grinning from ear to ear when he hears your moans.

“Does that feel good, baby?” his hands moving to your ass to help you grind harder and faster.

Your hands are on his chest, legs spread wide on each side on his hips, hips rolling back and forth on him, you can feel his cock stretching you a bit more with every movement, your lips are parted letting out whines and moans and your head is thrown back from how much pleasure he is giving you.

“Mhmmm, you feel so thick and are so big, Jude,” you catch your bottom lip in between your teeth, he’s looking up at you with a smile and his hands start wandering over your body, touching every inch of skin he can reach.

“All for you, baby, just wanna make me girl feel so good, hm? How’s that needy clit? Is it feeling good, darling?” he coos, voice dropping as he makes eye contact with you.

Your brows scrunching in pleasure from his words and his touch.

“Mhmmm, yeah, so, so good. God, you’re so hot,” you sigh, hips now moving in circles, pressing down on him firmer.

Jude’s hands place on your hips, his thumbs stroking your skin slowly.

“There you go, baby, use me, make yourself come on me, okay? You deserve it, honey, come for me,”

Oh and he never stops talking. He knows you get off on his voice too so he doesn’t stop, not even when you’re crying out right on the edge of approaching an orgasm. He just loves praising you and mix it with dirty talking.

“Harder, baby, rub that wet pussy on me,”

“Deeper, you can do it, can you? Take that cock deeper, baby, it’ll make you feel even better,”

“You have no idea how beautiful you look up there bouncing on thy dick, does it feel good, angel? I bet it does, you can’t stop moaning,”

“Look how hot these tits are bouncing for me, sweetheart,”

He’d wet his fingers while looking deadly into your soul and then slowly lead them to your clit and draw a slow, gentle motion to help you come faster.

“So, so pretty, there you go, making that pretty clit feel good, yeah?” he says softly.

And after you’re a mess on his chest trying to catch your breath his hands are rubbing your back helping you calm down and he’s whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

“You did so good, baby, such a good girl, I’m so proud of you,”

“I love you, honey, you alright?”

“Do you need water? Are you comfortable like this?”

Always checking up on you, trying to make you feel safe and comfortable around him before, during and after sex.

He collapsed into her, burying his face deep into the crook of her neck and chest. The impact nearly knocked the wind out of her, but she wrapped her arms around him instantly, pulling him as close as humanly possible. A quiet, shuddering sob escaped him, vibrating against her skin.

"We were so close," he whispered, his voice cracked and fragile, sounding nothing like the confident star the world knew.

Y/n closed her eyes, pressing a tender, lingering kiss to the top of his head. She held him firmly, guiding his ear closer to her chest so he could hear the steady, rhythmic beat of her heart—a reminder that regardless of the score, he was home.

"I know, baby," she murmured, her own voice thick with emotion. "I know."

She didn't try to fix it with platitudes or tell him it didn't matter; she knew it mattered more than anything in the world to him right now. She simply held him, letting him unravel, letting the weight of the loss pour out of him in the safety of her embrace.

As they eventually pulled apart enough to leave, Y/n caught the eyes of a few teammates. She offered them a small, sad smile—a silent acknowledgement of their shared grief—before guiding Jude out of the stadium.

The ride back to their hotel in Atlanta was silent, the city lights blurring past the window. Once inside the privacy of their room, the door clicked shut, sealing out the rest of the world. The silence here was different—it wasn't the silence of a stadium, but the intimacy of two people who knew exactly how to hold each other together when everything else felt like it was falling apart.

The heavy silence of the hotel room was broken only by the distant hum of Atlanta traffic outside. Jude looked exhausted, his muscles tight and his spirit bruised, but the sight of Y/n taking care of him brought a flicker of warmth back to his eyes.

"Just relax on the couch, baby. Drink plenty of water," she murmured, pressing a cool bottle into his hand. "I'm going to get your bath ready."

Jude leaned back, the cushions swallowing his athletic frame. He reached out, catching her hand and pressing a lingering, tender kiss to her knuckles. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice still raw.

A few minutes later, the bathroom was filled with a thick, swirling steam that smelled of eucalyptus and salt. When Y/n called out that it was ready, Jude didn't just walk in; he lingered in the doorway, his gaze scanning her body.

"Aren't you gonna join me?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave.

Y/n blinked, surprised. "Oh… I thought maybe you'd want to be alone. To just clear your head."

Jude shook his head slowly, a small, determined smile playing on his lips. "I wanna be alone with you."

He reached out, his large hand gripping her waist to tug her toward the tub. There was a new urgency in his movements. Without breaking eye contact, he stripped off his shirt and pants, tossing them carelessly onto the tile. Then, his hands moved to her, his touch gentle but firm as he peeled her clothes away, leaving her bare and shivering slightly in the humid air.

Jude stepped into the tub first. As the scalding water engulfed his sore muscles, a loud, guttural groan escaped his throat, his head falling back against the rim. After a moment, he extended his hand, beckoning her. Y/n climbed in, the heat stinging her skin before settling into a deep, soothing warmth. She settled between his legs, her back pressed firmly against his broad, wet chest. Jude wrapped his arms around her, linking his fingers over her stomach, pulling her tight against him.

For a long time, they just sat there, the only sound the rhythmic dripping of the faucet and their synchronized breathing. The tenderness was thick, a sanctuary of shared grief and love.

Y/n sighed, tilting her head back to press a soft, lingering kiss to his damp shoulder. "I'm sorry it wasn't your year this time," she whispered.

Jude leaned in, kissing her shoulder in return, his lips grazing her skin. "Thanks, baby. It just gets to me… how close we were."

Y/n shifted slightly, turning her head to look up at him. "Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"

The question hung in the air. Jude didn't answer immediately. He stared at her, his dark eyes locking onto hers for three long seconds. In that silence, the atmosphere shifted violently. The tenderness evaporated, replaced by something heavier, darker, and far more primal. The grief was still there, but it had morphed into a desperate, hungry need to feel something other than defeat. He looked at her not as a source of comfort, but as prey.

Y/n felt a sudden, electric buzz ignite low in her stomach, a thrill of submission and desire shooting through her as she recognized the predatory glint in his eyes.

Before she could breathe, Jude leaned down and captured her lips in a bruising kiss. He didn't just kiss her; he invaded her, his tongue sliding deep into her mouth, licking and tasting her with a starved intensity. His hand shot up to her neck, his fingers gripping her firmly, tilting her head back at an angle that forced her to open up to him. He deepened the kiss, his tongue swirling against hers, claiming her completely.

A loud, needy moan escaped Y/n's throat. Driven by the sudden surge of heat between them, she twisted her body around in the water, her wet skin sliding against his. She gripped his muscular shoulders for leverage and swung her leg over, straddling his lap. The friction of her soaking wet pussy pressing against his hardening cock through the water sent a jolt of pure electricity through both of them.

The water in the tub sloshed violently as Y/n began to grind her hips, her soaking wet pussy sliding rhythmically against the hard length of his cock. The friction was electric, the heat of the water amplifying every sensation. They remained locked in a deep, messy kiss, their tongues dancing together while low, guttural moans vibrated through their chests.

Jude’s large hands shifted from her waist to her hips, his fingers digging into her soft skin. With a sudden, firm surge of strength, he pushed her down harder against him, forcing her pussy to crush against his shaft. Y/n let out a sharp, needy gasp, her back arching as the pressure intensified.

"Jude… please," she whimpered against his lips, her voice trembling with desperation.

Jude pulled back just an inch, a lazy, half-lidded smile crossing his face. He was still physically drained from the match, the exhaustion clinging to his muscles, but the sight of her undone and begging for him ignited a familiar, competitive determination. He wanted her to feel every bit of the passion he had bottled up.

He shifted his hips slightly, teasing the swollen head of his cock against her clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in slow, torturous circles. Y/n whimpered, her hips twitching in search of more. Then, with a slow, steady thrust, he began to slide inside her.

Y/n let out a long, loud moan, her eyes fluttering shut as she sank down onto him. He was thick and filling, stretching her walls as he buried himself deep within her. She paused for a moment, her breath coming in ragged hitches, allowing her body to adjust to the sheer size of him filling her completely.

Jude let out a heavy, satisfied sigh, dropping his forehead against her chest. He breathed in her scent, the tension finally leaving his shoulders. "Just what I needed," he rasped, his voice vibrating against her skin.

They stayed still for a heartbeat, the only sound the dripping of the faucet and their heavy breathing. Y/n looked down at him, her heart swelling with love and desire. She leaned down, whispering into his ear, "Let me do the work… you just relax."

She began to move, lifting her hips slightly before slamming back down onto him. Jude let out a deep, guttural groan, his head snapping back against the rim of the tub. Y/n picked up the pace, riding him with a rhythmic intensity that sent waves of pleasure crashing through them both.

The air in the bathroom grew thick and heavy with steam and the scent of sex. The water sloshed wildly around them, spilling over the edges of the tub and soaking the bathroom floor, but neither of them cared. Jude’s hands remained locked on her hips, guiding her movements, pushing her down deeper with every stroke to ensure he hit her G-spot.

Y/n reached forward, cupping his face in her hands and pulling him into another searing kiss. She moaned into his mouth, her internal muscles clamping tight around his cock, milking him with every upward and downward motion. The friction of the water and the tightness of her pussy drove them both toward the edge.

The tension built to an unbearable peak. Y/n’s movements became faster, more frantic, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Jude’s grip on her hips tightened, his knuckles turning white as he felt his own climax rushing toward him.

"I'm… I'm close," she sobbed, her body beginning to tremble.

"Do it, baby… come for me," Jude groaned, his voice a raw command.

With one final, powerful downward thrust, Y/n’s walls spasmed violently, her orgasm ripping through her in crashing waves. The sensation triggered Jude instantly; he let out a loud, primal shout, his body stiffening as he shot his warm cum deep inside her, filling her to the brim.

They collapsed against each other, chests heaving, their bodies still joined and twitching in the cooling water, completely spent and finally at peace.

After a few minutes of drifting in the cooling water, Jude finally stirred. He stood up, the water cascading off his lean, muscular frame in sheets, and reached down to scoop Y/n up into his arms. He carried her out of the tub with an effortless strength, his chest heaving slightly as he carefully dried her with a plush hotel towel, his touch lingering on her curves before he quickly dried himself.

He didn't let her go far. With a predatory glint returning to his eyes, he carried her the short distance to the bed and laid her down gently against the white linens. Jude didn't waste a second; he crawled between her legs, his lips finding her stomach. He kissed his way down, his tongue tracing a wet path over her navel and lower, until he reached the damp heat of her pussy.

Y/n let out a sharp gasp as his tongue flicked upward, licking directly into her slit. Jude groaned, burying his face in her folds, his tongue working with a rhythmic, hungry intensity. He ate her out with a focused passion, his tongue swirling around her clit and dipping deep inside her, tasting her arousal and the remnants of his own cum. Y/n’s fingers tangled deeply in his hair, pulling him closer, her hips bucking off the mattress as she neared another peak.

Just as she felt the tension coil tight, she gently pulled him away, her breath coming in ragged hitches. "No… I wanna reward you," she whispered, her voice thick with affection. "You worked so hard baby, and you did so good."

Jude looked up at her, dazed and wanting, but Y/n firmly pushed him back onto the pillows. He sank into the mattress, his muscles finally giving in to the exhaustion of the day. Y/n shifted, sliding down his body until her face was inches away from his cock, which twitched in anticipation, already hardening again for her.

She didn't hesitate, leaning in to give him a sloppy, messy, slow suck. She swirled her tongue around the head of his dick, letting thick saliva soak the shaft, making it glisten under the dim hotel lights. She took him deep into her throat, moaning around him, the wet, suctioning sounds filling the quiet room.

Jude let out a string of curses, his hands gripping the bedsheets as the sensation overwhelmed him. While her mouth worked on his head, Y/n’s hand reached down, her fingers stroking the base and his balls, ensuring every inch of him was stimulated.

She paused for a moment, pulling back just enough to look up at him, maintaining intense eye contact. The sight of her—devoted, wet, and focused entirely on his pleasure—was the breaking point. Jude’s head fell back against the pillow, a guttural sound escaping his throat.

"You're gonna kill me, baby," he rasped, his voice breaking.

With a few more powerful, deep sucks, Jude stiffened, his hips jerking upward as he came violently in her mouth. He filled her throat with hot, thick spurts of cum, his entire body shuddering with the release. As the orgasm faded, he felt his bones turn to jelly, the last remnants of the day's stress and grief finally evaporating.

Y/n swallowed him completely before crawling up his body, leaving a trail of wet kisses across his chest and stomach until she reached his lips. She kissed him softly, a tender contrast to the heat of moments before.

"You did so well," she murmured against his mouth. "Go to sleep baby, you have to rest."

Jude offered her a tired, genuine smile, pulling her tightly against his chest. He reached over to the bedside table, clicking off the lamp and plunging the room into a soft, warm darkness. Wrapped in each other's arms, the silence of the Atlanta night finally bringing them peace, they both fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

----------------

the problem with quiet nights was that eventually, they became too quiet.

not the peaceful kind of quiet. the kind where both people were comfortable enough to do absolutely nothing, but somehow still managed to be bored out of their minds.

the movie had ended nearly twenty minutes ago, the credits had long disappeared from the screen, and the empty bowls from dinner were still abandoned on the coffee table because neither of them had the energy to get up and move them.

jude was lying beside her, one arm tucked behind his head, casually scrolling through his phone like he hadn’t been staring at the same few apps for the last ten minutes. she knew because she’d been watching him do absolutely nothing while claiming he was “relaxing.”

she, on the other hand, was staring at the ceiling, silently searching for something—anything—that could save them from another hour of sitting in comfortable boredom. they had already watched two movies, spent far too much money on food they definitely didn’t need, and wasted at least forty minutes arguing over what to watch next.

somehow, she had gotten her way. a tragedy jude had been silently mourning ever since the opening scene.

“i still think my choice would’ve been better.” he announced, finally tearing his eyes away from his phone to stare at the blank TV screen like he was still personally offended by the movie.

she slowly turned her head towards him, raising an eyebrow. for a moment, she just stared at him, waiting for him to realize how ridiculous he sounded.

“jude,” she said, pressing her lips together to stop herself from laughing. “you spent the entire movie complaining.”

he stared at her in disbelief, giving her leg a light nudge with his foot, like the tiny gesture alone was enough to defend himself.

“i did not,” he insisted, his voice carrying the kind of offense usually reserved for much bigger accusations.

she let out a small laugh, shaking her head as she turned towards him. “you sighed every five minutes.”

he opened his mouth to argue, but she continued before he could. “not even subtle ones either. full dramatic sighs.”

the corner of his mouth twitched, already knowing she wasn’t finished.

“you said the plot made no sense,” she said, far too pleased with herself, leaning back against the sofa like she had just presented undeniable evidence. “you paused the movie to ask me how much longer was left.”

before he could defend himself, she stretched her leg out and gently tapped his with hers, the satisfied smile on her face making it obvious she knew she had him.

“hey,” he protested, looking down at where she’d bumped him, then smoothly right back at her.

“what?” she blinked at him, putting on the most innocent expression she could manage, even though the smile threatening to appear gave her away.

jude narrowed his eyes.

“did you just kick me?” he glanced down at where her foot was still resting against his leg, looking genuinely betrayed.

“you’re a professional footballer, jude. surely you can handle a tiny kick.”

for a second, he just looked at her.

then the corner of his mouth lifted, that familiar smug little smile appearing like he’d suddenly found a way to win the argument after all.

“i can handle a lot more than that for you, baby.” he said, his voice dropping into a teasing murmur, far too confident for someone who had just been complaining about a harmless kick.

“are you seriously trying to flirt your way out of losing an argument?” she asked, her voice laced with amusement, a smile tugging at her lips as she watched him.

jude didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed.

“maybe,” he simply smiled, reaching over to steal a piece of popcorn from the bowl between them like he hadn’t just been caught trying to charm his way out of losing.

the argument was over. well… as over as anything could be with jude. he never actually admitted she was right, and she knew better than to expect him to, but eventually they both decided the movie debate had gone on long enough.

so they moved on. by doing absolutely nothing.

he went back to scrolling through his phone, occasionally showing her random videos he found funny. she pretended not to care, then laughed at almost every single one. he stole some of her snacks. she stole them back. he complained like she had committed a serious crime despite the fact that he was the one who started it.

somehow, this became their activity for the next fifteen minutes. which would’ve been fine… if they weren’t still bored.

she looked around the living room, then at him, then back at the living room… then back at him.

she shifted closer to him, closing the small space between them until she was tucked against his side, mostly because she had run out of ideas and partly because being bored was easier when she was annoying him.

jude’s eyes left his phone, narrowing slightly as he looked down at her.

“why are you doing that?”

she blinked. “doing what?”

he gave her a look, the kind that said he already knew she was planning something.

“that.”

“she glanced down at herself, pretending to be confused. “i’m sitting next to you.”

“no,” he said, setting his phone down. “you’re plotting.”

a laugh almost escaped her. “i’m not plotting.”

he looked down at her, his expression changing slightly — not surprised, just amused, like he already knew she was lying.

“careful.”

she looked up at him. “what?”

jude’s mouth twitched as he watched her, already suspicious. he set his phone down beside him and tilted his head slightly.

“you’re either about to ask me for something or start trouble.”

she smiled, completely caught but not even trying to deny it. “maybe both.”

“i knew it.” his lips curved into a small smile as he looked away, like he was trying not to encourage her. then he shifted slightly beside her, turning his body more towards her as he waited, already knowing she was about to suggest something.

“jude,” she whined, letting her head fall back against the sofa. “we need to do something. we’ve officially reached the point where we’re bored of being bored.”

he didn’t answer immediately but his attention was fully on her now. his phone had been long forgotten somewhere on the sofa, abandoned the second he realized she was definitely up to something.

she turned her head towards him.

“jude.”

he looked at her, already knowing from her tone that she wasn’t going to let this go. “i heard you.”

she waited a second, then shifted closer, eventually resting her head against his shoulder as she waited for his answer.

“and?” she asked patiently.

jude looked down at her, a small smile tugging at his lips. he shifted slightly on the sofa, getting more comfortable as if he genuinely needed time to consider the most important decision of the night.

“i’m thinking.”

she stayed quiet for a moment, her head still resting against his shoulder, waiting for his so-called “thinking” to lead somewhere. the silence stretched. she looked up at him.

“are you actually thinking, or are you just sitting there looking like you are?” she asked, watching his overly serious expression for a moment before a laugh threatened to escape. the way he looked so focused made it almost impossible not to laugh.

then his expression turned offended.

“wow,” he lightly squeezed her cheek between his fingers, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “the disrespect.”

she let out a small laugh, turning her face slightly away from his hand. “you’re so dramatic.”

“i’m hurt.”

“you’ll survive.”

“barely.”

she rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

then she went quiet. not bored quiet. thinking quiet. jude noticed.

“why do i feel like that silence means trouble?”

her smile grew wider as the idea fully formed. she lifted her head from his shoulder, turning towards him with sudden excitement.

“i have an idea.” her eyes lit up as she brought her hands together in a quick clap. “hear me out.”

his eyes immediately narrowed. he knew that tone. the last time she had said “hear me out,” it had never been followed by anything normal.

“i don’t like where this is going,” he said, though the small smile on his face betrayed him.

she ignored him, a grin spreading across her face as she pushed herself up from the sofa.

“hide and seek.” she said it like she had just come up with the greatest idea in history.

jude stared at her. for a moment, he genuinely looked like he was waiting for the rest of the sentence. “…hide and seek?”

she nodded, completely serious. he blinked, glancing around the room before looking back at her.

“you’re serious,” the small smile on his face gave away that he wasn’t actually against it — he was just trying to understand how they had gone from being bored on the sofa to this. “we’re really doing this?”

“yes, go hide.”

he stayed exactly where he was on the sofa, staring up at her like he was waiting for her to reveal that this was a joke.

“that’s it?”

she looked back at him, confused by his confusion.

“that’s it.”

“you’re not even going to explain the rules?”

“jude, it’s hide and seek. i think you’ll manage.” she gave him a shrug.

a slow, confident grin spread across his face as he finally pushed himself off the sofa. he straightened to his full height, looking down at her like he’d just accepted the challenge of a lifetime.

“don’t come crying to me when you can’t find me,” he said, his voice full of mock confidence. “you clearly underestimate my hiding abilities.”

“please,” she said with a quiet laugh, waving a dismissive hand. “i bet i could find you in under a minute.”

he looked at her in complete disbelief, “you really think i can’t hide?” his eyebrows shooting up for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. she had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing.

“jude…” she looked him up and down, making a very obvious show of it before meeting his eyes again. “you’re six foot something.”

he frowned.

“six foot one.” he corrected, as if the extra precision somehow strengthened his case. he folded his arms, looking at her expectantly. “so?”

she blinked. “…and you think you’re gonna disappear?”

he didn’t hesitate.

“yes,” he answered with effortless confidence, like the answer was painfully obvious. the corner of his mouth lifted into a smug smile as he shrugged one shoulder. “i fail to see how’s that relevant.”

she looked at him for a second. then another. trying—unsuccessfully—to keep a straight face.

“jude…” she shook her head, a laugh already escaping her. “because you’re built like a lamp post.”

the silence that followed lasted all of half a second. then she completely lost it. a burst of laughter escaped her as she bent forward, one hand flying to her stomach while the other reached for his arm to steady herself.

jude instinctively glanced down at himself, turning slightly as if checking whether she might somehow have a point.

“…i’m not built like a lamp post.” he looked back at her with complete sincerity, sounding genuinely offended by the comparison.

she completely lost it. she managed between laughs, shaking her head. “i can’t believe you actually checked.”

she was still laughing when he looked at her for another second, clearly deciding that words weren’t going to win this argument. a small, determined smile tugged at his lips.

“right,” he muttered.

before she could say anything else, he turned on his heel and took off down the hallway. she stared after him, completely caught off guard. for a second, she just stood there, trying to process what had happened. then she blinked.

“did you just run away?”

a few seconds of silence followed. then his voice echoed from somewhere upstairs. “you said hide!”

she pressed her lips together, already fighting another laugh.

“jude,” she called back, already knowing this was going to be a disaster. “you’re supposed to hide, not announce your escape!”

she shook her head, still smiling as she made her way upstairs, listening carefully. the confidence he had disappeared with was honestly impressive. he had spent the last five minutes insisting he had “hiding abilities,” and now she was about to find out if that was actually true. she walked slowly down the hallway, looking into each room. the house was quiet. too quiet.

“jude?”

no answer. she let out a quiet huff of amusement and continued down the hallway until she reached the bedroom. she pushed the door open slowly, peeking inside. nothing immediately caught her attention. she stepped in, looking around the room.

“okay,” she whispered, mostly to herself. “you’re really trying this time.”

a small movement near the window caught her attention. she stopped. slowly, she turned her head towards the curtain. she took a few steps closer, already trying to hold back a laugh. and then she saw it. jude was behind the curtain. or, more accurately, jude had attempted to be behind the curtain. because while the curtain was doing its best to hide the upper half of him, his legs were completely visible underneath.

she just stood there. looking at him. looking at his very obvious legs sticking out. then back at the curtain. she had to press her lips together to stop herself from laughing. the funniest part was that he wasn’t even moving. he was completely still, probably convinced that his plan was flawless. a six-foot-something professional footballer, hiding behind a curtain like he had just mastered the art of invisibility. she stared for another second.

“jude.”

silence.

she looked down at his legs again. “seriously?”

behind the curtain, he stayed perfectly still. which somehow made it even worse.

“your legs are out,” a laugh slipped from her lips. “like…really out.”

for a moment, she expected him to admit defeat. instead, his voice came from behind the curtain.

“they are not.” he was far too confident for someone whose hiding spot had already been exposed.

she rubbed a hand over her face, completely speechless, before glancing down again, just to make sure she wasn’t somehow imagining the very obvious pair of legs sticking out.

she slowly pointed at him. “your entire body is outside the curtain.”

she could practically hear him trying to come up with a response. he slowly looked down, as if he was only now checking whether she was telling the truth. his eyes landed on his very visible legs sticking out from underneath the curtain.

“…how unfortunate.” he said it with complete seriousness, like he had just discovered a major flaw in an otherwise perfect plan.

she burst into laughter. jude sighed, finally stepping out from behind the curtain with as much dignity as he could possibly recover. he straightened his shirt, acting like nothing embarrassing had happened.

“i was warming up.” he said it casually, with the kind of confidence that made it obvious he expected her to believe him.

she pinched the bridge of her nose, still trying to process the fact that he had just called standing behind a curtain “warming up.”

“you know warming up usually involves moving, right?” she blinked.

he looked at her, completely unfazed. “i was mentally preparing.” he scratched the back of his neck and glanced away briefly before meeting her eyes again.

“for what?

“the next round.”

before she could answer, he walked past her with a suspicious amount of confidence. she turned around, watching him with disbelief as he started walking away again. “you’re going again?”

“obviously.” he glanced back at her, like the answer was obvious.

“i found you under a minute.” she let out a small laugh.

there was a brief pause where he looked like he was deciding how to respond. then, with complete confidence:

“i was testing you. wanted to see how quickly you’d figure it out.”

“right,” she said slowly, clearly not believing a word of it. “round two, you have sixty seconds.”

“that’s not enough time.” he looked offended.

she shrugged, already amused. “maybe don’t choose a hiding spot where your legs introduce themselves first.”

jude clicked his tongue, folding his arms across his chest.

“the curtain let me down.” he sighed dramatically, sounding genuinely disappointed by its lack of cooperation.

she tilted her head, amusement clear on her face. “of course you’d blame the curtain.”

he looked like he was about to defend himself again, already preparing another explanation. she waved him off, trying not to laugh again.

“go now, i’m counting.”

he opened his mouth, probably ready with another excuse, but she was already covering her eyes and facing the wall.

“one…”

the second she started counting, she heard his footsteps disappear down the hallway.

“two…”

a door opened somewhere nearby. she paused for half a second.

“three…” she raised an eyebrow.

the closet. or maybe the bathroom. then came a small thud. something had definitely fallen. let’s hope it wasn’t jude.

she bit back a laugh.

“please tell me that wasn’t you,” she whispered to herself, even though she already had a feeling it was.

“four…”

knowing him, he was probably standing completely still, hoping the noise would somehow disappear. there was silence. then she heard it. a quiet sound from somewhere in the house — like he was trying desperately not to laugh. she smiled, shaking her head as she continued counting.

“five…”

by the time she reached the end, she already had a feeling this round was going to be just as ridiculous as the first. she lowered her hand and turned around.

“ready or not…” she paused for a moment, letting the silence build. “here i come.”

she walked towards the open doorway, glancing down the hallway. she checked the bathroom first. nothing. she stepped inside for a second, looking around just to be sure. she paused, her eyes moving from the shower to the bathtub.

“okay, progress,” she muttered, almost impressed. “good. at least we’re not at the point where you’re hiding in the shower.”

she left the bathroom, glancing back down the hallway. it was quiet. then she noticed the guest room door. it was slightly closed. a smile tugged at her lips. that was suspicious. she walked towards the room, her steps quieter as she approached the door. she pushed it open slowly, looking around. the room was empty. no movement. no obvious signs of jude. no feet sticking out, no curtains involved, no disaster waiting to happen.

she had to give him that much — he had learned from his mistakes. she stayed quiet for a moment, letting herself believe he might have actually pulled it off. then she noticed the closet. the one place in the room that looked like it was trying very hard not to be noticed. it was closed. completely closed. suspiciously closed. she walked towards it, already smiling.

she reached for the handle. jude heard some movement, his confidence disappearing almost instantly.

silence.

she opened the closet door. he was standing completely still, hidden between the clothes, trying his best to blend in. for a second, neither of them said anything. then she raised an eyebrow.

a pair of broad shoulders were sticking out between the jackets, making absolutely no attempt to look like they belonged there. she stood there for a second, taking in the scene. the effort was there. the execution, unfortunately, was questionable.

“jude…”

“what?” his voice came from inside the closet, completely calm.

she glanced at the clothes surrounding him, then back at the very obvious person hiding between them.

“you’re not a jacket.” she blinked then burst out laughing, the sound warm and effortless.

his confidence faltered for the briefest moment. not because she had found him — he expected that eventually. but because she had insulted his entire strategy.

“i was going for the same idea.” he frowned, pushing the clothes away from his shoulders as if they were somehow responsible for the situation. he looked more offended by the clothes’ failure to hide him than the fact that she had found him.

“the idea was to blend in,” she gestured towards the clothes around him. “not become the largest item in the closet.”

she paused, looking him up and down. “you’re literally the reason the jackets look small.”

he shook his head, still trying to recover from the attack on his hiding skills.

“alright,” he stepped out of the closet, fixing his shirt and pretending he hadn’t just been exposed between her old jackets. “enough about my strategy.”

she opened her mouth.

“nope,” he said quickly, pointing at her before she could say anything else. a small grin appeared on his face.

“your turn to hide,” he walked past her towards the hallway, clearly enjoying the fact that the attention was finally off him. “let’s see how good you are.”

she followed him into the hallway, watching as he turned around and covered his eyes with one hand, leaning casually against the wall.

“you have one minute,” he announced, sounding far too confident for someone who had just been found hiding between jackets.

“don’t peek.” she smiled, already backing away.

he let out a quiet laugh. “relax. i’ll give you a chance.”

“a chance?”

“yeah,” he glanced back slightly — not enough to actually see her. “wouldn’t want to ruin the fun.”

the second he started counting, she slipped away quietly.

“one…”

she walked quickly down the hallway, keeping her steps light.

“two…”

she reached their bedroom and pushed the door open carefully, making sure it didn’t make a sound.

“three…”

she glanced around the room, considering her options. the closet was too obvious. behind the curtains would be too predictable. and after his first attempt, she wasn’t about to make the same mistake. her attention dropped to the space beneath the bed.

perfect.

she crouched down and slowly lowered herself onto the floor, trying not to laugh at how ridiculous this felt. once she was underneath, she pulled herself farther back, settling into the shadows. she covered her mouth, holding back a laugh as she imagined jude walking around the house with all the confidence of someone who had definitely forgotten he had been defeated twice already.

“forty-four…”

his voice echoed faintly from the hallway. she stayed completely still. this time, she was winning.

fifteen minutes later, he was still searching. and somehow…

he still hadn’t found her. at this point, he wasn’t even looking for her anymore. he was looking for an explanation. he stood in the hallway, hands on his hips, completely confused.

“okay…” he looked around the empty rooms. “this is getting ridiculous.”

from beneath the bed, she had to bite down on her lip. she could hear the frustration in his footsteps as he walked around the room again.

“i know you’re somewhere,” he called out, his voice echoing through the bedroom.

a few seconds passed. nothing. jude waited. still nothing. his patience started wearing thin. he let out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his hair as he looked around the room again.

“baby…” his voice softened, but there was still a hint of defeat in it. “please come out now.”

“i’m starting to think you’re not even hiding anymore,” he called out, his voice carrying through the room. “i think you’ve moved out. i miss you.”

she nearly laughed. she was enjoying this. it was almost impressive how quickly he had gone from “i’ll find you in seconds” to acting like she had vanished from the entire house. fifteen minutes ago, he was confident. now he was negotiating with silence.

she couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“jude…” her voice was quiet, but it was enough.

the second his name left her lips, the room went silent. a pause.

then—

“aha,” his voice changed instantly. the frustration disappeared, replaced by pure victory. “i knew it.”

she immediately regretted giving herself away.

“wait—”

before she could move, he dropped down beside the bed. “found you.”

she tried to pull herself farther back, but it was too late. his hand reached under the bed and caught her ankle gently.

“jude!”

“nope,” he laughed, carefully pulling her out as she tried to hold onto the edge of the bed. “you actually thought you were going to win?”

with one last pull, jude slid her completely out from under the bed. she dissolved into laughter, sprawled across the floor while he looked far too pleased with himself.

“fifteen minutes,” he said proudly. “but i got you.”

she shook her head. “you begged me to come out.”

his smile faltered for a second. “that was a strategy.”

for a second, she just stayed there, lying on her back, looking up at him. he stood above her with the most satisfied expression she had seen all night. she barely had time to take a step before his hands caught her around the waist, stopping her.

“hey, jude—”

he laughed as she protested, lifting her just enough to make her lose her balance before gently dropping her onto the bed. she landed with a soft bounce, breathless with laughter, looking up at him as though she couldn’t quite believe he’d actually followed through. before she could sit up, he leaned over her, trapping her beneath him with a grin that screamed victory.

“next round is on the bed,” he announced confidently. “you know i’m winning this, baby.”

she shook her head, completely entertained by the confidence he had somehow regained. then she dropped her head back against the pillow, trying to understand how he had turned a simple game into such a big event. he leaned closer and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, gentle and quick, like he was celebrating his very important victory. when he pulled back, he still had that satisfied look on his face.

she pushed herself up onto her elbows, the smile still lingering on her face as she watched him. “we’re having a rematch tomorrow.”

jude let out a quiet laugh, clearly amused by how determined she was.

“shhh,” he lifted a finger to his lips, silencing her before she could start planning the rematch already forming in her head. “we have a long night ahead.”

he reached for her and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb brushing lightly against her cheek as he enjoyed the moment. she took advantage of his distraction, tugging him closer and stealing a quick kiss that left him momentarily speechless. he didn’t let her pull away so easily, chasing after her lips for another kiss. when they finally broke apart, her lips traced a playful path to his cheek, leaving a soft peck there before she leaned closer to his ear.

“still counts as a win for me.” she whispered, the quiet triumph in her voice making him chucke softly.

“enjoy your victory, baby,” he whispered back, a quiet challenge in his voice. “i’ll have mine soon enough.”

she settled back against the bed, watching him with an amused expression as he carried himself like he had just won a championship—which he hadn’t.

but she wouldn’t trade it for anything. not the teasing. not the ridiculous competition. not the way they could spend hours doing absolutely nothing and still feel like time moved too quickly.

JULY 11, 2026 ; Miami, Florida...

The Miami sun was beating down on your glowing skin, its light dimmed by the oversized sunglasses you shielded it with as you walked. Later today would be England vs Norway, and your boyfriend was most certainly going to be centre-stage, as usual.

It was the most heartwarming thing to watch him succeed so beautifully and admirably on the biggest platform within the sport, and you felt so privileged to be the woman by his side. The woman of the man who millions of other women yearned for, those who could only dream of being in his arms every night.

The World Cup so far had been incredible—you'd enjoyed every moment, and with the exciting state of Jude's team, there were only positives to be celebrated and praises to be made about this period in his career. Enjoyable so it was, except for one small thing. Ridiculous, really, for it truly was small, but there were certain decisions managers made and rules they put into firm place that you just couldn't get on board with. There were the silly decisions they made regarding the events and players on the pitch, there were the criticisms that you believed were much too harshly declared, and then there was what you believed to be the stupidest of them all.

It had been said before—by Ancelotti, by Alonso, even by Arbeloa earlier this year—and now, Thomas Tuchel had been very serious when he'd declared the same thing.

❛England players may have sex with their partners at any time during the World Cup, except on match days.❜

No, of course you didn't need to be put through the mattress by your man every day of the tournament, but Jude Bellingham never made it easy for a lady to be in his presence without her succumbing to a burning arousal, and even though he was your boyfriend of five years, that arousal somehow burned evermore.

Tuchel had thought the statement quite an obvious and sensible one, a good compromise in comparison to the initially considered approach where the players' partners would be entirely banned from visiting the players' hotel rooms. He realised that approach would be going too far, and that psychologically it would actually affect the men more to be forced away from their women. However, he still believed in sexual abstinence on the day of the game, to preserve energy and focus.

You on the other hand, along with several of the other WAGs, believed that to be a nonsense theory.

These were high-level, elite athletes, with stamina greater than most, and after doing so much exercise, dealing with so much adrenaline, also had sexual needs more than most. It would be cruel to deprive them of such a necessary release—you believed it was almost like a form of therapy, surely? A catharsis drawn from their very bloodstream, bodies needing oxytocin and dopamine to calm their restless and excitable hearts. One round of sex wasn't going to do any harm to their roles on the pitch.

And so, with that strong belief in mind, you found yourself cornering your unassuming boyfriend in the recovery room of England's designated private training base.

Jude took his athleticism very seriously, always adhering to rules in the interest of playing as skilfully and as successfully as possible. It always paid off, so he wasn't about to start messing with what had so far been working in his favour.

But you knew him well enough. You knew that your assumption was correct—that ejaculatory release could only be beneficial, because restriction and pent-up sexual frustration could only ever be a negative thing. You felt that you'd be doing your duties as a devoted, supporting girlfriend, if he'd hear you out and allow you to.

You'd been sitting with the other WAGs, watching your men run up and down, stretching their muscles, groaning with the exertion. Your eyes never left the gorgeous artwork that was Jude's body, and you hadn't realised you were quite literally biting your lip at him in public, sighing with need, pupils dilated though hidden by your sunglasses. You were wearing a tiny white summer dress with white kitten heels—likely a little too overdressed for merely attending training, but most of the other girls were with you on that.

And when a break was finally called—fifteen minutes, to be back there immediately afterward—you didn't wait a moment to pounce on him.

As he skipped over to you, all sweaty and slightly breathless, you did something very uncharacteristic. You hugged him despite the sweat, despite your ivory white mini dress, the one you cherished so dearly. Usually, Jude would shower before touching you after training or after a game, and that wasn't because you cared more about your appearance than your boyfriend—it was because he got so sweaty sometimes that it left wet stains on your summer-coloured clothing, and the paparazzi were always waiting around the corner.

Jude was surprised at the way you wrapped your arms around his neck without restraint, not even hesitating to allow his half-drenched shirt to collide with the pristine quality of your dress.

"Hey, baby, what's this?" he chuckled, holding your waist tight as you clung to him.

"Come with me," you whispered, stood up on your tiptoes to reach his ear. “Inside.”

He furrowed his brows in intrigue, wondering if something was wrong; and then you pulled away, took his hand, and strolled off inside the training complex, en route to your destination.

You entered into the recovery room, its purpose for ice baths and hydrotherapy, therefore of no use to anyone at present. And it was when you shut the door behind you, turning to give him that tell-tale smirk, that Jude realised exactly what you were up to.

"Hi, baby," you grinned, waiting for him to say something as he looked you up and down in amusement. Sure enough, your dress was already stained with patches of his sweat.

"I don't even think I need to ask what you're plannin' here."

"No, you don't, because asking wastes time, and we only have fifteen minutes, so c—" You began to walk into the corner you'd been eyeing as the perfect spot, where a wide couch sat before the wall, but Jude took you by the wrist and guided you back to face him.

"Darlin', we're not doin' that in here," he said plainly. His expression was still amused, but he was being serious, because he was still stuck on his refusal to rule-break.

"Why?" you pouted. "You have to hear me out first."

"Alright, whatever—go on," he smirked.

You interlaced both hands with his, and explained your own theory. "So, it's my personal opinion that Tuchel is viewing sexual intercourse in entirely the wrong way."

Jude raised a brow.

"He's saying it's gonna affect your performance, right? That it'll reduce focus and deplete you of energy, or whatever?"

"Orgasms do suck the life out of me sometimes."

You rolled your eyes. "After the fourth round! Not with a quickie. Nobody said we had to fuck all day and night, but I completely disagree with the statement that sex negatively affects performance." Now you stepped forward, dropping one of his hands to run your digits over his collarbone, a sensual smile on your lips. "I think, that really, it can only make a positive difference."

Jude was grinning wide now, entertained by this display of scientific theory governed by nothing other than the empirical evidence of your hormones.

"Do tell," he joked, provoking you to continue.

You giggled. "Well, we all know how difficult sexual frustration is," you sighed, dropping his other hand now and reaching over the crotch of his shorts, where a growing bulge could be felt beneath. "Surely it's unfair for a manager to force his players to deal with such a thing..." As you spoke, you rubbed and squeezed the weight of him, heart racing as you experienced the familiar feeling of his length hardening further under your touch. "And if you're too frustrated... it might only end up backfiring on the team. Tuchel wouldn't want that, would he?"

Jude shook his head, still smirking, because he refused to visibly fold at the way you spoke and fondled him, even while internally he was going insane.

"And you wanna break that rule in here, yeah?" he asked. "In this room?"

"Mhm. Right now, pretty please..." you sung with faux-innocence into his ear, on your tiptoes again to lean into his chest, still kneading your hand over his shorts.

"Pretty please, hm?" he repeated, with a slight mocking tone that sent a deeper rush of arousal through you. Your panties were clinging tight to your glistening folds—you were surely smothered in arousal beneath that fabric.

"Jude..." you whispered, leaning further forward to brush your lips over his neck, breathing in his scent as your tongue darted out within a kiss to the skin.

You heard him hiss, and he felt your reaction, your widening smile just beside his Adam's apple.

“So," he murmured, "first you’re tryna get me to do somethin’ the boss has made illegal, and now you’re tryna get us caught doin’ it too.”

“J…” you beamed innocently, stepping away now and rocking back and forth on your heels. "We won't get caught..."

He shook his head, rolling his eyes with a smile that expressed just how predictable this was. Never would you play by the rules, no matter how high-stakes the game ahead. And again, you truly were a firm believer in your own opposing theory that pre-match sex could only be beneficial to England’s star player. It would excellently boost morale, and that was the most crucial quality in this stage of the competition, right?

Without needing to give another plea, you twirled 180 degrees, before strutting over to the smallest corner of the room, past a row of red light therapy beds. Jude followed in tow.

And there you stood by the plush grey couch, admiring it as the most ideal, most comfortable piece of furniture to have a quickie on. It was almost like it had been placed there for that very purpose. The universe knew to give you the idea that you should enter this specific room, because the act really was what Jude needed, even if he might have fought it initially. Now, he was coming round.

"Sit down, handsome," you smiled, guiding him to do so, and even despite another amused eye roll, he did. He sat up against the back of the couch, settled into the furniture with a demeanour that gave away what words didn't need to. He was on your side now.

You giggled as you straddled him, legs bracketing his strong, muscular thighs. "’m gonna ride you, baby—'n I'll be quick, I promise."

"Better be, sweetheart," he murmured, smacking your ass harshly. You yelped, arching your back and taking that as an incentive to begin rocking over his clothed dick. As you did, you watched him raise his right wrist slightly, checking the time on his watch. "Just under ten minutes now, c'mon. If y' need it that badly, y' gonna have to start speedin' up."

You were grinding down harder now, his dick straining through his boxers, your pussy perfectly prepped in its drenched arousal. There would be no time for foreplay—although it was true that you pretty much always needed it with Jude.

Wasting no more time, you tugged at his waistband, pulling both layers down just enough to free his achingly hard cock. It stood up with a pop, thick veins running all along from base to tip, precum leaking from the slit and down the underside. You almost physically salivated at the sight, as though a dog in heat had met its human form.

"Can't be starin' too long, baby," Jude smirked, rubbing his thumb over your cheek. You were lost in your own world, always amazed by how lucky you were to have this perfect asset waiting for you every single day.

You chuckled, grinning as you pulled your soaked panties to the side and rubbed the weight of him along your dripping sex. The head of his dick provided the perfect friction, and you spent a few moments too long just gliding it up and down your folds, the anticipation of him filling you almost as satisfying as the fullness itself.

Your eyes were clamped shut, revelling in the feeling, but you had a sharp awakening when you felt Jude's hand suddenly slam down on your asscheek again. He was never intentionally too harsh, but your ass was just too pleasing, too pretty to look at...

"C'mon, princess," he ordered, with a raised brow. "Would've been easier if I'd fucked you against that wall, no?"

"No, baby, shut up, 'm fine, just let me—ohhhhh..." Finally, you eased down onto him, hands immediately gripping his shoulders with the impact of his girth stretching your tight walls.

"Aw, that's it..." he both cooed and groaned, hands settling at the curve of your ass to guide your position.

"J, you're so—oh, mmm, God..." You babbled incoherencies while you slowly took every inch, and of course he talked you through it.

"Yeah, that's it, c'mon now, baby... Nearly there..." "Just a little more... Takin' it so well..." "Pretty pussy, squeezin' me so tight..."

His words only made you even more insatiable, and as you finally sunk down, his girth nestled perfectly in your heat, you began to bounce. There really was no time to waste, and you hadn't planned on going slow.

"Oh, yes, fuck, that's my girl," Jude moaned beneath you, gripping your hips and your ass so tight that you were certain there'd be bruises if he kept it up.

"Yeah, you love how I bounce on you like this, baby? Feels so good, J..." you whined as you lifted your hips up and down, chasing your peak. You raised your hands to meet your clothed breasts, kneading over the tissue, but wishing the style of fabric had instead allowed for your man's easy access, because his hands on your bare skin was nothing short of heavenly.

The feeling of him filling you up was another slice of heaven, and on his dick you moaned like a whore, rocking back and forth, making figure-eights with your hips.

"So fuckin' tight for me, sweetheart," Jude muttered under his breath, looking up into your ever-fluttering eyes. "Y'so needy, always thinkin' about gettin' fucked..."

You giggled through another whine, placing your hands on his chest now to help with balance as you surrendered your body to him completely. You rode him with force, high-pitched sounds spilling out of your throat with each alteration in movement, and now it was even clearer to you: this was certainly what every player in this World Cup needed to proceed successfully. What could be more galvanising, more energy-inducing, than the inspiring motivation of a woman's sex? You knew Jude would be thinking about this throughout the rest of the day—you knew he'd get flashbacks during the game—but never did that mean a disruptive distraction. No—you were essentially his muse, his source of stimulation to drive him to success, that last piece of the puzzle on top of all the hard work he put in. As your pussy squeezed his aching length (for the fourth time in the last twenty-four hours, mind you), you ascended toward climax, riding impossibly faster while the outside world became a blur, nothing existing but the two of you...

"Oh, Jude, 'm gonna cum—" you nearly screamed, rubbing circles over your clit now, desperate to reach your peak. Beneath you, Jude was bucking up his hips with an eagerness mirroring yours, and with it he groaned profanities.

"Yeah, baby, fuck—need you to cum for me..."

"I'm so close, J, oh, yes..."

The couch, as sturdy as it was, creaked beneath you, and you bounced your ass down onto him as hard as possible, moaning without restraint as Jude grabbed and smacked at the flesh, wet snapping noises echoing throughout the room and surely through the hall. You leaned down to kiss him as you finally came, his tongue swallowing the extent of your lewd sounds, although you'd already made enough of a noise in the last few minutes.

He was so close too, and with a few more thrusts upward into your sweet spot, his orgasm crashed through his sensitive body.

"Shit, I'm gonna cum, oh—that's it, take it, baby..."

Hot ropes of cum shot up into your womb, filling you wholly as you sighed breathlessly into his neck, collapsing forward.

"J, oh my..."

Jude caught his breath too, blinking rapidly to bring himself back to earth. He'd obviously be fine to play tonight, but would he definitely be fine to resume training with his teammates in—he checked his watch again—just two minutes time?

"Shit, darlin', you've got me fucked up," he murmured in your ear, and you smiled wide, peppering kisses all over his face. He mirrored your expression, relishing in your facial kisses, but internally cursing the fact that he'd have to pull out in a moment. His cock was softened now, but your wet, cosy heat felt too heavenly enveloping him, and he wished the rest of the day could be called off so that he could spend it with only you and your ethereal body. In that room, so perfectly entwined, it really did feel like you were the only two people inhabiting the earth.

In reality however, you weren’t, and in a moment someone would be reminding you of that. While Jude's mind might have been still half-focused on his responsibilities, neither of you expected what came next.

Suddenly, the door creaked open from the opposite end of the room.

"Oh my God—fuck," you both cursed in unison.

Luckily, whoever it was couldn't see you both from that entrance, so, in your shock and panic, you each managed to detach, jump up from the couch and rush over to another corner just in time, fixing yourselves to look presentable.

But there was cum on the couch, and more dripping down your thighs. You'd clean the couch once the person had left, but what were you to do about the sticky mess on your legs? Jude was trying not to laugh, and you kept nudging him, needing to get him to shut up.

"Stop it, you idiot—they'll hear!" you whisper-shouted.

No use, of course; and now the individual was facing you. While earlier you'd praised the universe for granting you the perfect room for sex, you now cursed those same stars for putting you in this horrifying position. Because indeed, the individual facing you was none other than Thomas Tuchel himself.

As he looked you both up and down, you literally almost fainted and threw up at once. The two of you weren't indecent, thankfully, but it was incredibly obvious what you'd been doing. The flustered look on your faces told of that alone. Jude wasn't laughing anymore.

"Had a nice time?" he asked, with a sincerely raised brow.

You both stuttered, and in the awkwardness you decided it had to be Jude to deal with it, because you weren't the one on personal terms with the England manager. Quickly, you rushed into the bathroom just behind you, knowing that no action you made could be more embarrassing than what had just happened, and in there you leaned against the door, clamping your eyes shut in embarrassment.

After a few moments to collect yourself, you then cleaned Jude's cum from your legs, fixed up your hair and your dress, and once player and manager had left the recovery room together, you finally stepped out.

Attending England's training sessions would go on to feel a lot different from then on, and you only hoped that your reckless morning wouldn't make it past those four walls and into a headline.

Then the fans started up with “Hey Jude” and you had to look away quickly, blinking hard. The pride you feel swells up so huge it doesn’t fit in your chest, it spills over into these stupid tears every single time you hear the song, no matter how many times you see him do something like this.

“He looks exhausted,” Denise says quietly, her arm still hooked through yours, squeezing a little.

“I know. Bless him. I don’t know how he’s still standing out there. He gave that absolutely everything.”

You take some deep breaths with his parents, gushing over his performance as usual and wait for him to finish with everything else he has to do after the final whistle.

Soon enough, you watch him walk over showered and changed into the usual post-match tracksuits, his hood half up already like he’s already trying to shut the world out. Even from a distance you can see the heaviness in his shoulders, the way he’s moving a bit stiffer than usual, his tall frame carrying the weight of a country for ninety-plus minutes. He looks happy though. So, so happy. His dark eyes scan the stands until they find you three, and you can see the sparkle in them as soon as he spots you. 

He hugs his mum first, extra tight, murmuring something that makes her laugh and pat his back. All week she’d been saying watch your language, watch your tackles, watch your face so he wouldn’t get booked. You could see how proud she was of him, her eyes closing when they hugged. It almost made your heart burst. 

Then his dad, the two of them clapping each other on the shoulder like they always do, that quiet father-son thing that always makes your chest warm. Mark kisses his cheek, and your smile mirrors Jude’s bashful one. Only after that does he turn to you.

“There she is,” he says, voice a little rough from the game, his accent coming through even stronger when he’s tired. He smiles down at you, exhausted but sweet, and you stand up to meet him.

You cup his cheek, thumb brushing his sharp cheekbone, your other arm sliding round his broad back. He’s warm, solid, still carrying the smell of the grass mixed with fresh shower gel. “I’m so proud of you, Jude. That looked so tough out there.”

He leans down and kisses you, soft and quick. He’s never one for big PDA with the cameras hovering, but he never lets you feel unloved. Then his hand comes up, gentle as anything, tucking a bit of hair behind your ear. His eyes go all soft as he looks at you, the intense match-day fire dialled right down just for you. “Thank you, baby. Yeah… it was hard. Proper hard. But we got there. It was rough though, I’m shattered.”

You sit back down and he drops straight onto the seat next to you, no hesitation. His head finds your shoulder immediately, heavy and trusting, like he’s been waiting for this exact spot the whole night. You slide your hand up to scratch lightly at the back of his neck, the way he likes, and feel him let out a long breath, sinking further into you. The relief in his body is so obvious it makes your heart twist.

His mum and dad chat lightly for a minute — something about the referee, how proud they are, the usual post-match debrief — and Jude mumbles along, half in it, half gone. His hand finds yours in your lap, fingers threading together lazily.

After a bit he turns his head, lips brushing your ear as he lowers his voice. “Are you gonna come visit me tonight?”

You snort, playfully nudging his head away. “You look like you’ve been hit by a bus, babe.”

He laughs then, loud and bright, teeth flashing, his eyes lighting up with the loving mischief that always gets you. “What? I can’t get cuddles from my girl? After that?”

You raise an eyebrow, fighting your own smile. “Cuddles?”

His lip twitches, smirk spreading slow and dangerous. “Cuddles,” he repeats, all innocent like. “And a couple of kisses. Just three or four…”

You tilt your head, giving him a look. He’s dead on his feet, shoulders slumped, yet still managing to look at you like that. You ignore the heat pooling in your stomach from the way he's looking at you and try to think logically. The semi-finals are midweek. “You’re gonna cramp up at some point and whatever idea you’ve got of cuddles and kisses is gonna be straight out the window.”

“Can I not enjoy my recovery with my girlfriend? Is that against the law now?” He huffs dramatically, but his hands are already stroking up your sides, warm and familiar.

You huff at him, already giving in. “You’re so spoilt.”

He grins wider, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “You can never say no to me.”

And it’s true. You can’t say no to him. Not when he looks at you like that. Cuddles. Right. 

It wasn’t long before you found yourself being led by Jude back to his room in the team hotel in Miami. They’d just had a squad dinner, winding down after the match. As soon as players started to retreat he’d texted you and met you in the lobby. Other England camps weren’t like this in the past, you were so grateful the rules had been changed to let you see him, even if he should be resting.

He’d showered again, you could already tell by the cologne and body wash mix you could smell as you followed him down the quiet corridor. His hand was warm around yours, thumb brushing your knuckles every few steps. He still moved a little stiff from the game, the beautiful body of his carrying the bruises and the exhaustion, but there was this restless energy in him too, the win still buzzing under his skin.

Once the door clicked shut behind you, he didn’t stop talking. He kicked his slides off, flopping back onto the bed as he kept going, voice low and rough but nonstop the way it always gets when he’s over-excited.

“...and then after the equaliser, I swear the pitch felt like it was moving, the humidity was mad out there. But the lads were buzzing, it was so loud on the pitch. Harry pulled me over after and was saying something about the run we’re on now, and I was just thinking the whole time about that last chance, how I nearly messed up the touch but it just fell right. Then extra time, my legs were gone but you just dig deep, don’t you? Mum’s texts were killing me the whole week about watching my face and my language, I nearly got booked just for breathing heavy at the ref at one point—”

He laughed at himself, running a hand over his damp hair, eyes bright even though his shoulders were sinking deeper into the pillows. You perched on the edge of the bed, watching him, the usual warmth spreading in your chest.

He reached out and tugged you closer by the wrist, still mid-story. “—and then I was like, nah, we’re not losing this one. You get me babe? And then I was like—”

“Jude, take a breath, love. I was there and watching the whole thing,” you chuckle, adjusting to lie next to him on the bed. His arm slipped under your head straight away, pulling you in like it was the most natural thing in the world. His thumb moved slowly across your cheek, warm and a little rough.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” he murmured, half-laughing at himself again, voice dropping lower. “I’m just… excited. I don’t know. We left everything out there and…”

He trailed off for a second, eyes half-closed, but his fingers kept moving, tracing your jaw, then down the side of your neck, like he couldn’t quite settle even though his body was heavy with tiredness. Up close like this you could see every little detail: the faint sheen of sweat still at his hairline from how warm it was in Miami, the way his chest rose and fell a bit quicker than normal, a fresh bruise along his jaw starting to darken. You breathed in his warm skin scent that always made your stomach flip.

He shifted closer, leg hooking over yours casually, voice going soft and a little rough with emotion. “It’s mad innit? One minute you’re out there thinking your legs are done, next minute the ball drops and it just… happens. And now we’re in the semis. Semis, babe.”

His grin came back, tired but bright, the one that always made your heart do stupid things. He pressed his forehead to yours for a second, breathing you in like he needed it more than air. “Couldn’t have done it without knowing you were up there. Makes it all feel different.”

“I love you,” you whisper softly, thumb brushing his cheek, “and I’m so proud of you.”

“How proud?” he beamed, raising an eyebrow, a playful spark lighting up his exhausted face.

“Very proud. Like… prouder than you can even imagine. I think I’ve cried at nearly every game—”

Jude giggles, almost giddy, the sound low and warm in his chest. He loved praise, especially from you, it always turned him soft and a little cocky at the same time. “I know, my little crybaby,” he cooed, voice teasing and fond as he leaned in, pressing little kisses all over your cheeks, the tip of your nose, the corner of your mouth. Each one gentle and sweet, like he was savouring being close after the chaos of the match.

“Shut up,” you laugh quietly, trying to sound stern but failing completely. “You need to calm down, baby. You have to sleep.”

“My body’s tired,” he mumbles against your skin, kissing your cheek again, then lingering lower near your jaw, “but the adrenaline is just making me wired, man.”

You stroke his side, up and down in a slow, steady rhythm, feeling the solid warmth of him under your palm, the faint tremor of leftover energy in his muscles. His tall frame was heavy against you, one leg tangled with yours, but his hands kept wandering. Sliding under the hem of your top to rest against your lower back, thumb tracing lazy circles there. 

After a moment he shifts, propping himself up on one elbow so he’s looking down at you properly. The lamp on the bedside table casts a soft glow over his face, his beautiful brown eyes and pink lips slightly parted. He looks unfairly good for someone who just played extra time in a stadium that felt more like a sauna.

“So…” he starts, a smirk creeping back in. “About those kisses I was promised.”

You raise an eyebrow, fighting a smile again. “I don’t remember promising anything.”

“Oi, don’t lie to me..” He leans in closer, nose brushing yours, breath warm against your mouth. “I distinctly remember talking about three or four. Minimum.” His hand slides higher under your top, palm flat and warm against your ribs, thumb stroking just under the curve of your breast. “Come on, baby. I earned them, didn’t I? Scored two, dragged us to the semis… least you can do is give your man some proper kisses.”

He’s grinning again now, all cheeky and tired and completely devastating to your self-control . Before you can answer he dips his head and presses one slow kiss to the corner of your mouth, then another just below your ear, lingering there like he knows exactly what it does to you. 

“You’ve just wasted two kisses…and you look like you’re about to fall asleep.”

He groans in joking frustration, eyebrows furrowing to give you a little puppy dog look that always gets him out of trouble. “I just want cuddles and kisses before i sleep-”

He stops as you tilt your head at him, giving him another look.

“I swear, I swear! Baby, please…”

The pleading look on his face already has your stomach flipping, mouth a little dry. He’s so unfairly gorgeous like this. Tired eyes, messy damp curls,his toned body stretched out next to you, still radiating heat from the match. The way his tracksuit top has ridden up to show a sliver of toned stomach… it’s ridiculous how much you want him even when he’s half-dead on his feet.

“Fine,” you say, trying to sound stern but your voice comes out softer than you mean it to, “but you need to try and sleep too…”

He shifts slightly so you’re fully facing each other, one hand moving to your lower back, his leg still draped heavy over yours. “I can fall asleep kissing you.”

The kisses start off sweet and slow. Gentle presses of his lips against yours, his hand stroking your lower back under your top. His other hand in your hair, fingers loose and tired. Then they deepen.

Jude lets out a quiet, relieved sigh into your mouth as his lips part wider, tongue sliding in slow and warm. The kisses turn sloppy fast. Wet, lazy, unhurried in an exhausted way that somehow makes it hotter. His tongue moves heavy and deep, tangling with yours in long, messy strokes, licking into your mouth like he’s too tired to do anything but feel you. Every so often he sucks softly on your tongue or your bottom lip, pulling it between his before going back in deeper, slower, wetter. You can taste the faint mint from his post-dinner toothpaste mixed with the warm, familiar taste that’s just him. His breaths are heavier now, little groans vibrating against your lips as the kisses grow filthier. Your tongues sliding slow and slick, mouths open and messy, spit-slick lips catching every time you pull apart for air only to dive right back in.

He’s genuinely exhausted, you feel it in the heavy weight of his body against yours, the way his movements stay soft and sleepy even as they get more desperate. His hand in your hair tightens slightly, holding you there as he kisses you like he’s trying to melt into you. Deep, lazy swirls of his tongue, slow sucks, the occasional sleepy grind of his hips against your thigh. He’s half-asleep and completely turned on at the same time, and it’s doing dangerous things to you.

Your hand slides under his top to rest on his ribs, and the soft, needy sound he makes against your tongue makes you shiver hard in his arms.

“M’so hard for you,” he whispers against your lips, breathing heavily. He presses his hips forward, grinding slowly so you can feel exactly how turned on he is, the thick, heavy outline of his cock straining against his joggers.

“You need me to help you, baby?” you murmur, letting your hand trail down his stomach until your palm cups the hard bulge. He’s so warm, so fucking hard already, twitching eagerly under your touch.

Jude’s breath hitches, hips jerking up into your hand as he lets out a soft, desperate whimper. “Please…”

“But you’re so tired, Jude.” You stroke him slowly through the fabric, teasing, because you love when he gets like this…all soft, sleepy, and whiny for you.

“Baby—” he whines, the sound high and needy, forehead pressed to yours. His hand moves down to squeeze your ass, fingers digging in just a little. “M’never too tired for you… fuck, please touch me properly. I need it. Need you so bad..”

You push his joggers down just enough to free him and wrap your fingers around him. Jude’s whole body shudders, a broken moan spilling from his lips as you start stroking him. You start slow, firm pulls from base to tip, thumb swirling over the slick head every time. He’s so thick and hot in your hand, veins pulsing, leaking steadily now. You’re transfixed by the sight of him.

“Fuck… yes, just like that,” he whimpers, voice all sleepy. His head tips back against the pillow, eyes fluttering shut, mouth open as soft, desperate little sounds keep falling out of him. “Your hand feels so good, baby… don’t stop, please. I’ve been thinking about this for hours.”

You twist your wrist on the upstroke and he jolts, hips bucking lazily into your fist, chasing the pleasure even though his body is heavy with exhaustion. Every whimper is quieter, needier. He’s almost submissive in the way he lets you take control, thighs trembling, fingers clutching at your waist like you’re the only thing anchoring him.

You lift his shirt higher so you can see his toned stomach, selfishly maybe, but he looked so pretty. You keep going, stroking him faster, tighter, watching the way his abs clench and his chest rises and falls quicker. “So pretty Jude,” you whisper, and Jude lets out a broken whine, biting his bottom lip.

“Baby… I— fuck, I’m so close already,” he pants, voice cracking. “Your hand is gonna make me come if you keep— ah—”

You slide down his body before he can finish, taking him into your mouth in one slow, wet glide. Jude’s back arches off the bed with a loud, guttural moan, one hand flying to your hair, holding on tight as his fingers tremble.

“Oh my god— your mouth, fuck—” He’s losing it completely now, sleepy whimpers turning into desperate, broken sounds as you bob your head, tongue swirling around him, sucking him deep. “So warm… so fucking good. Baby, please— I can’t— you’re gonna make me come down your throat if you keep sucking like that.”

His hips twitch up gently, like he’s trying so hard to be good and not fuck your mouth, but his control is slipping. Whiny, breathy moans fill the room as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks, tongue pressing along the underside. Jude’s thighs shake, hand tightening in your hair, voice hoarse.

“Baby… slow, please, I’m so sensitive— fuck, I love your mouth so much…”

You slow down and look up, making eye contact with him. His eyes are glassy, half-lidded with exhaustion and pure bliss, lips parted, chest heaving. The sight of you between his legs like this seems to ruin him even more.

“You’re so beautiful,” he moans, voice cracking, thumb stroking your cheek gently. “My beautiful girl.”

He keeps watching you with that dazed, adoring look, hips rocking up in tiny, helpless movements as you suck him slow and deep. You swirl your tongue around the head, then take him all the way again, relaxing your throat until your nose brushes his stomach. Jude’s whole body trembles.

“Fuck— baby, look at you,” he whispers, voice hoarse and reverent. “Taking me so well… even when I’m this tired. You’re perfect. So fucking perfect for me.”

His praise comes out soft and broken, each word punctuated by a shaky breath or a little whimper. You can feel how close he is, the way his cock throbs heavier on your tongue, the constant little twitches of his thighs, the way his fingers keep flexing in your hair like he’s fighting not to lose it. But he stays so good for you, letting you control everything, just moaning and whining softly every time you swallow around him or suck a little harder.

“Gonna make me come if you keep doing that…” he pants, eyes fluttering. “Your mouth is too good, love. Too warm and wet and— shit—”

You pull off with a wet pop, strings of spit connecting your lips to his cock as you stroke him slowly with your hand instead. Jude lets out a wrecked, needy sound at the loss, hips chasing your mouth for a second before he catches himself. Before you can say anything, he’s tugging at you weakly, desperate.

“Too far away… come back up here, please.”

You crawl back up his body and he immediately pulls you in, kissing you deep and messy, tasting himself on your tongue with a low groan. His hands are everywhere, sliding under your top, squeezing your waist, your hips, like he needs to feel all of you at the same time. The kiss goes on and on, lazy and filthy, tongues sliding slow while he whimpers softly into your mouth every time you stroke him.

You keep working your hand over his cock, slow and slick, and Jude’s hips rock up to meet every stroke, his breathing getting shakier. He breaks the kiss just enough to rest his forehead against yours, panting.

“You don’t want to come yet?” you whisper against his lips, still stroking him lazily.

He shakes his head, eyes fluttering. “Wanna be closer to you baby, wanna make you feel good.. wanna.. wanna— fuck.”

His sentence cuts off into a broken moan. For a long moment he just kisses you again, deeper this time, one hand cupping the back of your neck while the other slides down your body. His palm smooths over your stomach, then lower, teasing along the waistband of your shorts like he’s giving you time to feel the anticipation. His fingers finally slip under the fabric, pushing your shorts and panties down your thighs in one clumsy but eager movement. He helps kick them the rest of the way off, big hands gentle on your skin the whole time.

Once they’re gone he settles between your spread legs, still kissing you slow and deep. His fingers drag through your folds and he curses softly against your mouth.

“You’re so wet for me, fuck…” He circles your clit slowly, almost lazily, but the way his breath catches tells you how much it affects him. “All this for me? After I played like shit for half the game?”

You laugh breathlessly, rolling your hips against his hand, and he smiles a tired, crooked grin before leaning in to kiss you again. His fingers keep moving, slow circles on your clit, then dipping inside you just enough to make you gasp into his mouth. He’s still so hard against your thigh, twitching every time you moan.

Jude buries his face in your neck, kissing and sucking softly while his fingers work you open. “Need to be inside you,” he mumbles against your skin. “Please, baby. Wanna feel you around me. Wanna make you come first… then you can ride me slow while I hold you. I just— I need you close. So fucking close.”

He curls his fingers just right and you arch into him, moaning his name. Jude whimpers in response, pressing his cock against your hip like he can’t help it. 

“Please, baby,” he breathes against your neck, voice hoarse and shaky. “I need to be inside you. Can’t wait anymore.”

You nod, pulling him up for another deep kiss as he lines himself up. “If you get tired just say, Jude,” you whisper against his lips. He looked so exhausted — eyes heavy, shoulders slumped — and part of you still felt a pang of guilt that he was going to be the one putting in all the effort tonight.

“You’re such an angel,” he whispers softly, pecking your forehead with heartbreaking tenderness, then leaning down for another deep kiss. “As if I could ever be too tired to fuck you.”

The head of his cock nudges against your entrance, hot and slick, and you both moan into each other’s mouths as he starts pushing in. He’s so slow and careful, even though you can feel how badly he wants to bury himself.

“Fuck… so tight,” he groans, forehead pressed to yours, eyes squeezed shut in concentration. Inch by inch he sinks into you, stretching you open until he’s fully seated, hips flush against yours. The sound he makes is relief mixed with pleasure, a long, broken moan that vibrates through his chest.

For a moment he just stays there, buried deep, breathing hard against your lips. His arms wrap around you, holding you close, desperate for the full body contact. You can feel how tired he is, the way his muscles are trembling from the long match and the effort it’s taking just to hold himself up. “You feel so good,” he groans. “Just for me, yeah? Tell me this pussy belongs to me. ”

“It belongs to you, baby. Only you,” you moan softly, clenching around him. “I belong to you.”

A shaky breath leaves him. He buries his face in your neck, sucking softly on your skin while he gives one slow, grinding roll of his hips. “Good girl… all mine,” he mumbles, the words slurred with tiredness. “I don’t share you with anyone.”

Then he starts moving with slow, lazy rolls of his hips, grinding deep instead of thrusting hard. Every stroke is deliberate, like he’s savouring every second even though exhaustion is weighing on him. His breaths are heavier, his arms shaking slightly as he holds you, sweat beading on his forehead and sliding down his temple. Still, he doesn’t stop. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper, and Jude lets out a soft, whiny sound again that makes you clench harder around him.

“Baby… yeah, just like that,” he pants. “Feels too good. You’re squeezing me so tight— fuck.”

His mouth finds yours again, the kiss sloppy and tired, tongues sliding lazily while he keeps that slow grind going. One hand stays gripping your hip, the other slides up to cup your breast through your t-shirt, thumb brushing your nipple almost absentmindedly, like even his hands are running out of energy but he refuses to stop touching you. He’s so vocal, whimpering your name, telling you how perfect you feel, how much he needs you.

You can feel him getting closer, his thrusts losing their steadiness, becoming a little more desperate. “I’m so close,” he whines against your mouth. “Come with me, baby. Please. Wanna feel you come around me.”

One of his hands slips between you, fingers finding your clit and rubbing slow circles. The combination of his cock dragging deep inside you, his fingers, his soft sleepy moans, pushes you over the edge first. You clench around him hard, crying out his name as pleasure crashes through you.

Jude follows right after with a broken groan, burying his face in your neck as he comes deep inside you, hips stuttering. “Fuck— love you, love you so much,” he mumbles against your skin, trembling through it.

Afterwards he collapses on top of you, heavy and warm, still buried inside. His arms wrap around you tightly, face tucked into your neck as he catches his breath. Soft kisses press against your shoulder, lazy and sweet.

“Best recovery ever,” he murmurs with a tired little laugh, voice muffled. “But I’m never moving ever again.”

You run your fingers down the muscles of his back, smiling as both of your breathing starts to even out, his body finally giving in to the exhaustion. You kiss his temple, open your mouth to respond, but he's snoring softly before you can even reply.

MUGGY. THAT WAS one word you’d use to describe the temperature in Portugal. It was slightly warm, but the air felt thick around you.

The group had started the trip on a negative note already, as Chip had accidentally claimed someone else’s bag and then spent an hour trying to find a decent car rental service.

There was a very amusing statue of Cristiano Ronaldo’s head outside the airport that the boys spent a brief while taking the mick out of before walking across the road to the main car park where the rental car was to be collected from.

Arabella was perched on Alfie’s forearm as he carried her around to stop her from whining about her feet aching.

Chip spoke in the lift, “The journey begins boys, who’s ready to get fucking—“

“I actually am pretty hyped about this one chat.” Alfie put on a funky voice.

“Yuck.” You muttered, causing Greg to laugh.

“For anyone wondering why AB’s mrs is here, it’s because she’s a controlling leech who won’t leave her boyfriend alone. Psycho.” Chip joked, “No, I’m messing. It’s because she wanted to come and they couldn’t leave Arab at home.”

“Buttle family outing.” Greg hummed.

“I’m not even part of the Buttle family.” You scoffed, holding your ring-less finger up to the camera, “Never have kids out of wedlock guys. They take the piss.”

Alfie gave you a dirty look, eyebrows furrowed and head reared back, “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.” You shrugged before wheeling your suitcase out of the lift behind you once it had come to a stop.

“Top ten coldest Reader moments.” Chip narrated, “Anyway, I’m excited for the vibes. AB’s gonna get his beautiful body out.”

“You’ve been saying this all day on the plane.” Alfie said, sliding his sunglasses on.

“God forbid a white boy try and hype up his boys.”

“You’re not even white.” You chimed in.

“I’ve never had a mate that’s been more attracted to me than you.” Your boyfriend adjusted the backpack slung over his shoulders before jogging lightly to catch up to you.

“Mummy.” Arabella whined, trying to reach out to you.

“What?”

“Hold.”

“No.”

You wouldn’t have been opposed had she not been in your arms five minutes prior and begging to go back to her dad’s.

“Please!”

“Bella, can I hold you?” Greg tried.

The two year old seemed to think about it for a split second before nodding, letting her dad pass her over to his mate.

Alfie began explaining some previous events while taking Arabella’s suitcase from you, “We were getting off the plane and this— the flight attendant goes ‘Can I ask you a question, are you single?’ to Greg, and then he was like ‘I am’ and she went ‘You’re hot’.”

Greg pulled out proof in the form of a brown napkin with a number written down and the words ‘I think you’re really cute, never done this before lol’.

“How cute.” You smiled, raising your shoulders before dropping them.

“Oh, yeah, Reader’s fuming ‘coz the other one tried it on with AB even though he was carrying Bella’s bag and she was carrying her.” Greg laughed.

“That was ballsy.” Alfie nodded before holding his hands up, “Wasn’t a fan. Don’t appreciate the attention. I’m a taken man.”

“I’m not fuming.” You said, “I’m slightly annoyed.”

“I’m fuming for you.” Chip said, “I want his sexy body all to myself.”

“… What?”

“What sessy?” Arabella asked, face screwed up to block the sun from getting into her eyes.

“Alright, that’s enough of that.” Alfie grunted as he slung his backpack forwards to retrieve her little white sunglasses with flowers on the side from the front pocket. “What do we say?”

“Thank you, Daddy.” She grinned as he put them on her face.

“Very stylish.” Greg hummed in approval.

“Sylis.” She tried to replicate the word.

“Yep.”

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“I reckon I can touch this.” Alfie announced once you were under some shade.

The roof was quite high up, and as tall as he was already, you highly doubted he could touch the surface. He’d be lucky if his fingers grazed it at all.

“No, no jumping.” Greg spoke like a wound up parent, “Let’s do something proper.”

Alfie swung his arms back before leaping upwards and managing to touch the ceiling.

Once he’d done it, you ordered for him to lift you up so you could do it too. You grinned as you flattened your palm to it before he lowered you back down, patting your bottom lightly.

You looked straight at the camera, “Editors, make it so I did that all on my own.”

The boys then began discussing the plans of the day, going through the details of their gym session that would inevitably be happening because they made sure to rent a house with a gym inside of it.

“I can do arms. I can do arms.” Chip said when Alfie denied his ability to work out due to his ‘boob job’. “Speaking of my boob job, I need help tying it up.”

“I’m not tying up your corset, bro.” Alfie shook his head, “That’s where I draw the line with friendship.”

Chip suddenly lifted his shirt, showing off the strange, corset-like binder he was wearing underneath to support him after the surgery.

The spontaneous rapidity of his movement caused you to burst into laughter, leaning on the handle of your suitcase.

“You laughing at my boob job? Fine, but let me laugh at yours.” Chip said.

“What? I didn’t get a boob job.”

“He’s saying ‘coz your boobs got bigger.” Alfie chuckled.

“Yeah, Chip, breast feeding will do that to you.” You kissed your teeth.

It was an undeniable fact that your boobs had grown in size since having Arabella, and though they’d shrunk down a little since you’d stopped breastfeeding, they were still a cup or two bigger than before.

“This might be a, uh, personal question, feel free not to answer on cam, have you made love with that corset on?” Alfie asked.

“Yep— Errr, to who? My hand?”

“To someone excluding you.” Greg added.

“Yes.”

“Wow. That’s true love.” You hummed.

“You wouldn’t have sex with Alfie if he got his boobs removed?” Chip turned it on you.

“Me and Alfie have never had sex.” You shrugged, “And never will.”

Everyone went quiet as the camera panned towards Greg, who was still holding Arabella, the living proof that your declaration was a lie.

“I’m joking. I actually like his boobs.” You reached out, squeezing at his pecs, “Honk honk.”

“Bro!” Chip laughed loudly.

Alfie slung his arms around you, jolting you to the side aggressively and cupping your tits before squeezing at them and making the same sound.

“Alfie!” You screeched.

“You two are so strange.” Greg stared in bewilderment.

“Mummy boobs.” Arabella giggled, stretching an arm out herself.

It caused a wave of cacophonous laughter from everyone, including Frampton as the camera began shaking from it.

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Chip was doing a car reveal for the video when an elderly couple walked past, the woman taking a second to wave and coo at Arabella. The toddler beamed, waving back.

“You have a very beautiful baby.” She spoke to you and Greg.

It caught you off guard for a split second before you realised how this looked to any outsiders. With you being the only girl with a group of boys, and Greg being the one holding Arabella, any strangers didn’t have a much better conclusion to come to.

“Oh, no she’s not mine.” Greg laughed before turning to Alfie, “She’s his and hers.”

“Oh, right! Sorry.” The lady laughed, “It’s just because you were holding her.”

You snorted, looking towards Alfie, who was standing there awkwardly.

“Either way, she’s very beautiful.”

“Say thank you, baby.” You whispered.

“‘Hank you.” Arabella smiled, squishing her eyes shut.

Once the couple had walked off, she prodded at Greg.

“Down now.”

“Yeah? You walking?” He hummed, lowering her so her feet were on the concrete and she was making her way towards Alfie.

“Y’alright?” He blinked at her.

“Hi daddy.” She grinned.

“Hi.” He chuckled, “What you doin’?”

“Walk.”

“I can see that.” He nodded.

“Big legs.”

“… What?”

“Make big.”

Alfie grinned at the sight of his daughter trying to explain what she was doing, “Stretching your legs?”

“Yes.”

“Good, you should.” He hummed before pointing to you, “Go walk to mummy and back.”

Arabella did as he said, toddling over to you, losing a bit of balance but clutched onto your leggings for stability.

You let your hand drop down and rest on top of her head.

“You okay?”

“Mhm.” She muttered, focusing on her feet as she manoeuvred the other way around and stomped back over to her dad.

“In you go!” He grunted as he picked her up and moved to put her in the booster seat.

She let out a loud scream, clutching onto the outside of the car, “No!”

“What the fuck was that?” Chip mumbled.

You peered your head around the back of the car.

“Why you screaming?” Alfie frowned.

Arabella started crying out of nowhere, clutching her dad’s shirt for dear life, “No alone!”

You huffed, walking around and crouching in front of her.

“You’re not sitting alone. We’re all getting in the car. Stop screaming and stop crying.” You gritted out, wiping his cheeks with your hand, “You’re being silly.”

She nodded, sniffling, “Silly.”

“She alright?” Greg asked.

“She’s being dramatic. It’s because she’s hot. She’ll cry at anything.” Alfie explained.

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In the car, thankfully, Greg managed to have her in a laughing fit as he spewed off random words that sounded German. You weren’t sure if they were actual German words, or he was just putting the phonetics of the German language together, but it had Arabella cackling like a witch in her booster seat.

Cameras had been stuck to the front window so that Frampton didn’t have to film in the car journeys, and he could just sit in the back row chilling. You and Alfie were on either side of Arabella, while Chip was driving and Greg was in the front.

It took Chip far too long to figure out how to get out of the car park, but once he had, the drive was smooth, which you were overly thankful for because you didn't want to deal with Arabella vomiting.

“Look at this plane tryin’ to land.” He pointed out.

“Ah, yeah,” Alfie faked enthusiasm to peak Arabella’s attention, “Look Bells.”

She craned her neck forward, looking through the skylight “Plane.”

“That thing looks like it’s about to go down.”

“Chip!”

“Sorry.” He paused, “Did you guys ever used to lips up your own hand before you’d ever kissed a girl back in the day?”

“Yeah …” Alfie seemed unconvinced, “It’d be good if you didn’t swerve when you did that and wipe out my whole family.”

“Yeah, sorry, bro.”

You placed your hands over Arabella’s ears for your next sentence, “I never made out with my own hand but I used to practice giving head when I ate a banana.”

“What the fuck?”

“Did you know about this?” Greg turned to Alfie.

He nodded with pursed lips, “Told her to drop the banana and come give some real slops.”

Thankfully the conversation came to an end just as Arabella began whining about having her ears covered, pushing your hands away.

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Upon entry, the house was lovely. The floors were a chilling cold which felt amazing considering the heat outside, and there was so much space in every room.

The gym had to be one of the largest rooms there, and was undoubtedly going to be the one the boys spent the most amount of time in. You couldn’t say the same. You wouldn’t say your ideal habitat was in a gym room with four men while your daughter did god knows what halfway across the house.

“Look at the basketball chair. This is the only reason I wanted this gaff.” Alfie grinned, sitting down in the chair that was indeed shaped and styled like a basketball. “Bells, come.”

Arabella waddled toward her dad, “Ball.”

“Yeah, big basketball chair.” He hummed, picking her up and setting her in his lap, “Reader.”

You lifted your head out of your phone, looking at the sight and then awing before getting a picture that would undoubtedly be used in an Instagram dump on one of your accounts.

“Yeah, you’ve been messing with basketball chairs the whole time I’ve known you.” Greg played along, “And now you’re getting your offspring on it. I rate it.”

Alfie pulled a face, “Offspring?”

“Yeah, Arabella’s your offspring.”

Alfie adjusted, swapping places so Arabella was sat alone on the basketball chair and he was free to test out the gym equipment and darts board.

He wasn’t very accurate with his throwing, but he towed you into a bet of giving him head tonight if he got a bullseye.

He didn’t, in fact he missed one of the shots and the dart clattered to the ground, but he still glanced at you expectantly.

“You missed.”

“I won’t miss tonight.” He jeered.

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After a game of crocodile dentist, which was won by your boyfriend, he got to pick the biggest room to stay in, and that had you feeling like a smug winner by association as you unzipped your suitcase.

“Reader making herself right at home.” Chip commented.

“My fella won, I get to reap the benefits of that. Cry about it.” You gave him a fake smile.

The boys all cuddled together on the bed, Alfie uncomfortably sandwiched between the two of them, to which you stared blankly while Arabella stood at your feet.

He saw them out so the three of you could get well settled in the room, waving them off.

“I’ve got a rule for this room; no dirty piggies allowed.”

Greg burst out laughing while Arabella giggled from the bed, snacking on her fingers.

“Ah!” You snapped at her.

Sheepishly, she pulled them away, knowing she’d been caught doing something she wasn’t allowed to do.

You and Alfie had been trying to get her to stop gnawing on her hand whenever she got bored or fidgety, because quite frankly, it was gross and no one in public wanted to see a toddler’s slobber everywhere.

“I might as well just fucking wait for everyone to pick and you lot let me know which one I’m in.” Greg huffed as you all made your way down the stairs, “You fuckin’ muscly, stupid football playing charity match prick.” He aimed at Alfie as he followed right behind him, “Get here, I’m gonna fuck ya!”

“That’s my job, Greg.” You sighed, shaking your head.

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On the way to the restaurant you were having dinner at, Greg grabbed a ‘traditional Madeiran hat’ from a shop and refused to take it off throughout the whole meal.

The American diner was great, it was well decorated and the seats were comfy. The boys seemed to be umming and arring over the quality of the food, but you didn’t think it was too bad, and neither did Arabella.

She was back on Alfie’s lap as he tore up little pieces of the chicken tenders and blew on them so they were an appropriate temperature for her to eat.

She took the torn off piece and leaned forwards, stretching across the table to dunk it into the pot of sauce that Chip had acquired.

“Bella!” You gasped at her audacity to just take from someone else, “You have to ask, baby.”

She blinked from you to Chip and then down to her chicken covered in sauce, “Have please, Uncle ‘Ip?”

The boys weren’t half as bothered as you were, finding the situation rather funny instead.

“Yeah, ‘course you can.” He nodded, nudging the pot further in her direction.

“‘Hank you.” She beamed, continuing to eat.

You shook your head at her as she waved lightly at you.

“You have … sauce all over your hand.” Alfie grimaced, grabbing a napkin and wiping his daughter's hand over, twisting at her fingers to make sure they were properly clean.

“It’s literally just chicken in cornflakes.” Greg shrugged.

“Yummy.” Arabella spoke with her mouth full.

You gave her a stern, disappointed look, and she glanced up to her dad, expecting him to say something in her defence. Alfie shrugged and then held his finger to his lips, shushing her, to which she copied.

“I might’ve had a slight fumble here.” Chip admitted.

“Definitely.” You agreed.

“Nuh uh!” Arabella, once again, spoke with her mouth full.

“Bella.”

She stared directly at you and began purposefully babbling loud, disruptive noises while smacking her lips excessively.

You shrugged, “Alright.” and then turned your body fully away from her, having your plate in your lap instead.

“Uh oh, Bella’s in trouble.” Chip sang teasingly.

“No, mummy!” Arabella hit your back.

“Oi!” Alfie lifted his daughter, manoeuvring her to face away from you, “What you doin’?”

“Mummy—“

“No. You don’t hit people.”

“Y’know, it’s mad weird watching AB be a proper dad.” Greg spoke to the camera, while Alfie continued to scold Arabella gently, “Like, not ‘coz I expect him to be bad at it, it’s just … I dunno.”

“Mummy.” Arabella patted your back softly.

You turned back to face her.

“Mummy, hug?”

“Are you sorry?”

She nodded and you opened your arms for her. She beamed brightly, wrapping her tiny, pudgy arms around your midsection.

“That was good, bro.” Chip said to Alfie, slightly shocked by the way he handled the situation so maturely.

Alfie shrugged, “Dad life, ennit?”

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The evening was beautifully chilled. You and Alfie were lounging in your bedroom while Arabella sat on the floor (by choice) in her pyjamas, while watching a childish YouTube video on her dad’s phone, something about surprise toy eggs covered in Play-Doh.

Somewhere between talking casually and doing nothing, your lips had found his and had begun moving the rhythmic dance that was to blame for starting the very activity that was the reason you were parents at such young ages.

You couldn’t help but grin into the kiss, your hands coming up to cup his cheeks while his fell to your waist, slowly but surely turning his body until he was hovering on top of you.

It was when his fingers snuck round your front to slide beneath the waistband of your leggings that the both of you had to pull away and stop yourselves.

“Not while Bella’s in the room, Alf.”

He closed his eyes, groaning in annoyance before spontaneously standing up.

Downstairs, Chip was still filming for the video, talking mindlessly to the camera beside Greg while the football played on the large TV.

It was a very amusing clip to see Alfie come jogging down the stairs carrying his two year old, rambling off the title of some YouTube video for her to watch, dumping her on the couch and then legging it back upstairs.

Chip got a shot of him and Bella in the frame together, staring at each other through the camera, though he knew it wouldn’t be half as funny in the video because his editors were going to have to blur her face, so the viewers weren’t able to see the humorous blankness of her expression.

“Well, now we’re watching a … I don’t know, actually.” Chip hummed, panning the camera to the TV, which was now displaying a video for Arabella.

She was watching it very intently, despite having barely a clue as to what was happening in it. He supposed she was just very enticed by the bright colour of the Play-Doh and the cute toys that came out of the plastic egg.

He then turned the shot to include Greg, who was sitting on the other side of Arabella, phone face down and also very attentively watching the YouTube video.

“Doggy.” She giggled as a plastic doggy was opened up from a blind bag.

“Do you know what sound a doggy makes?” Greg asked her, “Sound, AB?”

“Woof woof!” She mimicked what she knew.

“Yeah, high five!”

Her palm smacked against his, and he pretended that she was far too strong for him, clutching his hand to his chest and making her cackle heartily.

“Just me and Window Kid entertaining little AB while big AB and his mrs have a shag up there— They’re definitely doing that by the way.”

“What, shagging?” Greg tilted his head up.

“Yeah.”

“Hundred percent, bro.”

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After yours and Alfie’s … strenuous activities, you hopped in the shower together, in which he handed you his razor and encouraged you to help him shave as neatly as possible. Once that was done, he then offered to do yours, and in response you blinked and told him you didn’t need help with that, but he insisted (“Nah, girl, I can get all up in there, trust. Spread ‘em.”).

You threw on one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers to head downstairs and join everyone else while he settled on a simple towel.

Chip already had the camera on and recording as you descended, the pair of you looking like you were doing the infamous walk of shame.

“First of all, bro, I just did, like, a half an hour shave of my whole shit.” Alfie laughed breathily, “Gave Reader the razor and told her to give me a low taper ‘coz I was bored.”

“Nah, your boy does a full shave for a Chippo vid.” Chip mocked.

“Your boy has an everything shower.”

“Your fella begs to shave your bush.” You added, startling them both.

“What?! AB, what the fuck!”

“Nah, nah, I don’t support deforestation ‘n’ that—“

Chip wheezed, “—Deforestation—“

“—But she did mine, thought I’d be gentlemanly and offer to do hers.”

“Right, well, enough of that. Go in there. Go in there,” He pointed to the bathroom, “It stinks so bad.”

You stood far back, picking Arabella up off the sofa and holding her in your arms while Alfie walked towards the downstairs bathroom, going over Greg’s ‘overflowing/ flooding shit’ story.

“Mummy.” Arabella said quietly through a yawn.

“I know, baby. Bedtime, okay?”

She whined in protest, but still buried her face in your neck.

Just as Alfie poked his head into the bathroom, he gagged, coughed and immediately walked away, ignoring any of Chip’s pleas for him to come back and do it again.

“Reader, smell it! Smell it!” He said excitably.

“Shh!” You shushed the man while walking back and forth with your daughter, hoping that soothing movement would lull her to sleep, “Also, no. I’m not smelling Greg’s literal shit.”

On the way up the stairs, Alfie paused to talk to Greg, who was fully naked in his bathroom with just his head poking out of the door frame. While they were talking, Chip zoomed in on Alfie’s chest, the camera picking up all the little hairs growing across his pecs.

“Did an everything shower but couldn’t sort your chest out?”

“What are you doing?” Alfie giggled.

“Couldn’t sort the chest out?”

“Bro, trust the process with the chest.”

“Oh, you tryna grow something new?”

“Reader likes it, so I keep it.” He gave an unbothered shrug.

“Alfie.” You hummed, looking down at where Arabella was drooling excessively while gnawing on her fingers.

“Alright, another one of those nights.” He sighed heavily, “Let’s just get her down and see if she sleeps through it.”

“What’s this?” Chip asked.

“She’s got her last baby teeth coming in and they really hurt at night. I apologise in advance if she wakes you up by screaming and crying.”

“Shit, it’s one of those?” He winced.

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Thankfully, she had gone down without much of a fight, and you both tucked her in to the little cot in the corner with a kiss on the forehead and making sure that her cow plushy was hugged tight to her chest.

Back downstairs, Chip thought it was funny to walk around, fully bent in half with his hands clutching his ankles. He looked like something out of a horror movie, especially in the low light of the living room only being illuminated by the football back on the TV.

“Eugh!” Alfie groaned, pointing at him.

He’d put on a pair of adidas shorts for now, which you knew would be coming off when you went to bed.

“Imagine he starts running like that.”

You gasped, sitting up.

Alfie looked at you, “No, no, no.”

“I can run in a back bend.”

“No way!” Chip cackled, standing up straight now, “Do it, do it.”

You stood, tucking the shirt into the boxers so you didn’t flash anyone, and arched backwards until your hands were on the floor whilst your head was upside down. You then began moving at an extremely fast pace around the living room.

Greg screamed, tucking his knees to his chest on the sofa while Chip writhed uncomfortably and bounced from foot to foot.

“Stop, man.” Alfie chuckled as you came right up to him, “Bare weird, girl.”

“That’s fucking disgusting.” Greg cackled, “Please teach Arabella to do the same and then both freak AB out at the same time.”

“Bro, no!”

It was like perfect timing, because the moment you stood back to full height, Arabella began shrieking upstairs.

“There we go, that’s the teeth.” You huffed, already making the move to go upstairs.

“Does she get nightmares?” Greg asked, scratching at his beard.

“Uhhh … not really?” Alfie replied, “Only sometimes but a quick cuddle and she’s alright.”

“Bella.” You cooed, flipping the light switch on and crouching in front of her bed.

“Mummy daddy!” She sobbed loudly, crawling towards you while suckling on the ear of her stuffed cow.

“I know, I know.” You whispered, lifting her up, “Alf!” You called out.

“Comin’!”

By the time he’d wrapped up downstairs with the boys and scaled the stairs, you’d gotten comfy against the headboard of your own bed, Arabella pressed up against your chest while still wailing.

You were trying to lull her back to sleep, shushing down her ear while stroking at her back and head.

She kept rubbing her jaw against your collarbone, seemingly trying to soothe the pressuring ache inside of her mouth.

“Hey.” Alfie spoke softly, closing the door behind him and crawling into bed beside you.

Her harsh waterworks restarted at the sight of her dad, craving comfort from the both of you.

He snuggled closer, resting his cheek on your bicep while stroking his thumb over her cheek, wiping her tears as they fell.

“Daddy, hurt.” She cried.

“I know it hurts, Bells.” He frowned in defeat, “I know.”

She reached out for his finger, trying to put it in her mouth.

“No, we’re not allowed to do that, remember? No fingers and hands in mouths.”

The rejection only hit her harder as her face screwed up in distress.

You sighed heavily, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and adjusting so that you were sat better up straight.

A knock came from the door, and Alfie let the person know they were okay to enter.

It was Chip, and he was holding one of Arabella’s dummy’s.

“This was downstairs, I dunno if it’s gonna help.”

“Cheers, bro.” Alfie took it from him with a nod.

“We’re all coming bed now though— No pressure, don’t rush her to stop crying, just thought I’d let you know we’re shutting off.”

“Alright, see you in the morning.”

“Night Chip.” You smiled tiredly before whispering to Bella, “Wanna say night night to Uncle Chip?”

Instead of speaking, she raised an arm and waved as much as she could through the concentrated pain in her jaw.

“Night, Arab.”

And then the door was closed again.

Alfie tried to slide the rubber end of the dummy between Arabella’s lip, but she was having none of it, instead deciding to rear her head back with a sobbing whine.

“Bella, please, baby.” You muttered, “It’ll help, okay?”

She clung to you tighter, squeezing your shirt in her fist.

You gave Alfie a nod, signalling for him to try again.

This time, he was successful, and Arabella’s wails were dulled to a light sniffling and the occasional dribble of tears.

“There we go, darlin’.” He smiled, taking her off of you and proceeding to pace the floor to help her doze off.

She’d worn herself out with all her crying, so it didn’t take long for her eyes to shut and her soft snores to fill the room.

Once she’d been put back down in her cot, Alfie clambered back into bed in his boxers, wrapping you up in his arms tightly and dotting kisses along your hairline.

“G’Night.”

“Night.”

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In the morning, Alfie had been the one to bathe Arabella while you stood in front of the large bathroom mirror, doing your makeup and occasionally pulling faces at your daughter through the reflective glass.

She giggled loudly at you before swiping a hand out and covering Alfie’s cheek in soap suds.

“Bella!” He groaned, wiping them off using his shoulder.

“‘Oap!”

“Yeah, I know, girl. But, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t get it all over my face.” He muttered, tilting her head back and pouring water in little splashes over her hair to rinse it free of shampoo.

Once she was done and bored of splashing about, he heaved her out of the bath and wrapped her in her dressing down.

“Cold, daddy.” Her lips trembled as she hugged her hands to her chest.

“I know, let’s go get dressed.”

When you finished your makeup, you returned to the bedroom, finding your daughter in a pair of denim dungarees that had little butterflies stitched on, and a baby yellow t-shirt on underneath.

“Good fit?” Alfie asked while tugging a t-shirt on.

You hummed and nodded, pleased by his choice before rummaging around through your own clothes to find something to wear.

You decided on a pair of tiny shorts and a retro Adidas shirt that was striped with green and cream. The fabric was relatively thick too so it wouldn’t leave you too cold.

“Socks and shoes, baby.” You crouched in front of Arabella, shoving some socks onto her feet.

“No!” She whined, throwing herself backwards and trying to kick them off.

“Bella.” You said, tone firm but trying to be patient, “Stop kicking please.”

“Off! Off!” She screamed, fighting back as you pushed her foot into her shoe.

“What the fuck is going on?” Greg poked his head in whilst shrugging a plaid shirt on.

“She doesn’t wanna put shoes on.” Alfie huffed, sitting on the bed and pulling Arabella into his lap to hold her in place while you wrestled with her feet to cover them up.

She wasn’t just screaming anymore, she was bawling.

You pursed your lips, keeping quiet and ignoring her protests as you did the velcro strap and put her feet down.

“No!” She cried, tears streaming, “Don’t want!”

“You’re not walking around the streets barefoot, Bella.”

Alfie lowered her back down to the floor, and she dramatically threw herself onto it, rolling around and wailing.

Instead of giving her any form of attention, you walked around her and unplugged your phone from its place on charge at your bedside. Alfie sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her with a blank expression along with Greg.

“Daddy, off!” She tried, kicking her feet into his shin.

“Oi!” He snapped, reaching down and taking a hold of her ankles, “Do not kick me. Understand?”

“I want off!”

“You can’t. We’re going out. I’ll say it again, do not kick me. It hurts, it’s not nice.”

It didn’t hurt. She was only two. But he had to find some way to acknowledge her bad behaviour.

“Alfie, don’t shout at her.” You whispered while putting earrings in, “It won’t help.”

“I know, I know.”

She thrashed her legs again, and this time, Greg crouched down to her level.

“AB, look, mate.” He pointed to his shoes, “Look at my shoes. Aren’t they cool? We can both have our shoes on.”

“I don’t like it!”

“Yeah, I don’t like wearing shoes either, but we can do it together, yeah?”

She thought for a moment, and then began shuffling toward Greg, and then curled herself up in his arms.

“Aw, this is nice.” He grinned, “Thank you, AB.”

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In the car, Arabella was still in a mood with Alfie for shouting at her, and demanded that Greg sit in the back with her. She held his hand the whole time, babbling his ear off in short bursts all while he nodded along.

“Let’s go back to parrots, has anyone deeped how they can actually speak English?” Chip asked from the driver’s seat.

Alfie sighed, “They can’t, though.”

“Yes they can.” He mocked the sound of a parrot, making Arabella laugh.

“No, they can’t. They just mimic, like, the pitch— I can’t remember how it works but they can’t actively speak English, they can just mimic noises and how words sound. That’s why they only say words they hear a lot.” You explained, peering your head around the seat to talk to Chip.

“Didn’t realise we had David Attenborough in the car, fuckin’ hell.”

“I remember— ah, have I said this before? I don’t even wanna say it.” Alfie shook his head.

“Nah, just say it now. You can’t start and then not finish at all.”

“We watched the Romeo and Juliet film in English, um, like Leonardo DiCaprio one, and um, like, in lesson, I think there was a bit of boob on show at one point, and the second I got home, I bought that film on YouTube and I paused on that and just went nuts on it.”

“Alfie!” You groaned, your expression one of utter disgust as you shook your head.

“And I told my mates ‘coz I thought they’d find it funny and I’m pretty sure next time we were with a group of girls they went like ‘Oi, y’know AB fuckin’ wanked over Romeo and Juliet’ and they were all like ‘Ewwww’.”

“Good. That’s what you get for being with other girls before me.” You sneered jokingly.

“Fuck, she’s got you there.” Chip murmured.

“That’s actually quite romantic, bro.” Greg spoke up.

“Me wanking to Shakespeare or my mrs being mad I spoke to gal before her?”

“I mean,” He scoffed out laughter, “Both. I rate you for the wank, and I rate her for the possessiveness.”

“10/10 couple.” Chip added on.

“Yeah, 10/10 but they can’t get their daughter to wear shoes.” Greg joked, making Arabella give him a high five. “Wait, you know how girls, like, uh, read erotic books and toss themselves off—“

“A Court of Thorns and Roses.”

“Ball knowledge.” You smirked at Chip’s mention.

“Do you think some lads read books and wank?”

His question caused a wave of laughter and a light debate started before Frampton added in his own thoughts.

“My mrs is obsessed with Draco Malfoy and Hermione fan fiction.”

“Oh God!” Alfie groaned and laughed.

“That’s actually crazy, bro.”

“That’s like … that’s peak teenage girl fan fiction.” You giggled, starting to reminisce yourself “Like, pulling all nighters during summer just to read— Wow, what a time.”

“You used to read that?!” Greg exclaimed.

“Okay, personally I never indulged in a Dramione fanfic—“

“—Dramione—!”

“— But the first fanfic I ever read was a Ron Weasley one and I still remember it to this day.”

“What did you read it on?”

“Wattpad.” You shrugged.

“Aren’t there shit about me on there?” Alfie turned to you.

“I dunno, probably. There’s loads of Sidemen fanfics on there.”

“Really?!”

“Yeah.”

“Probably all for Wroetoshaw, mate.” Chip guffawed.

“Harry.” Arabella cooed from the back.

It went silent for a little until everyone began laughing again.

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Out of the car, there was a long trek down to the restaurant you were going to for brunch, and on the way you discovered that there was a car park further down, which would’ve saved you the entire journey.

Arabella whined at the sloping concrete, tugging on the bottom of Alfie’s shorts.

“What, Bella?”

“Up.”

“Oh, what, now you like me?” He sassed.

“Daddy, up.” She whined, burying her face in his leg.

“What do you say?”

“Please.”

After she used her manners, Alfie caved, lifting her up and settling her in his arms to carry her the rest of the way.

In the restaurant, one of the men that worked there recognised Chip through his collaborations with the Sidemen and then saw you all to a table. They pulled up a special highchair for Arabella so she didn’t have to perch on yours or Alfie’s lap the whole time.

The food you’d ordered was good, and you were relatively surprised when Alfie actually ate most of what he’d ordered, though you’d spent half of your meal trying to encourage Arabella to eat and your own food had gone cold.

“Reader, swap.” Alfie motioned, moving to take your seat so that he had the responsibility of feeding your daughter and not you.

“Are you sure—“

“Sit down and eat, please.”

There was an entire fish on the table that everyone was taking the mick out of, including Chip, who decided it would be funny to mimic a Jamaican accent while toying with it just as the waiter approached again.

“Sorry about my mate using it as a Jamaican puppet.” Alfie said, causing you to bark out laughter.

Towards the end of the meal, Frampton ended up losing the drone to a ridiculously tall tree. You all ventured down to the tree line and Alfie tried numerous different tactics to get the drone down, including shaking the tree, throwing more sticks up at it, and even attempting to scale the entire thing at one point.

“Alfie, get down!” You exclaimed.

“Why?!”

“Because I need you alive?!” You scoffed, “Seriously, come down before you fall down.”

Unfortunately, Frampton didn’t get his drone back, but the restaurant did give you all the meal for free, which was very lovely of them to do. So you returned to the car with full bellies and more cash in your wallets than you’d expected.

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The next adventure for the day was a cable car journey up a section of Madeira, and then to get back down you’d be put in little wooden sleds and pushed down sloping roads with two residents guiding you.

Chip upgraded you all to glass floors, which meant the entire cable car was made of glass and gave you a completely unfiltered view of the city around you.

Arabella kicked up a fuss about it, freaked out about being able to see the drop beneath her, so she sat on your lap and kept her gaze on the window looking outwards rather than down.

“AB, look, it’s fine.” Greg said, stranding on the glass floor and walking back and forth.

Of course it caused the cable car to shake a little, and Arabella screamed in terror, diving back into your neck and sobbing.

“Fuck, I thought it would help.” Greg put a hand to his mouth and sat back down.

“Bro.” Alfie laughed, shaking his head.

“Arab, it’s okay, I don’t like it neither.” Chip muttered, stroking her cheek.

“Want out!”

“I know, I’m sorry. It is my fault. I upgraded without thinking about it.”

“Should I lay my jacket out on the floor?” Alfie asked.

“No, just pass it over here.” You motioned.

He chucked it over, and you spread it out, covering the top of Arabella’s head so her view is restricted to you only. Her cheek rested against your chest, feeling for your heartbeat to soothe herself.

“This is the bread and butter of Madeira.” Chip commented, gazing out of the window once he was a little more comfortable, “Ronaldo would’ve just been living up in a house like this, then he probably went to that football pitch to kick ball.”

“Apparently he used to do keepie-uppies inside his … when he was a kid, on his way up to the mountain.” Greg gestured to the outside.

“Used to play crossbar challenge in that diner as well.” Alfie added with a little smirk, making you chuckle under your breath and shake your head.

“Do you reckon Ronaldo’s been to that diner?” Chip asked seriously.

“I … I think it’s a slim chance.”

Halfway up the mountain, Greg and Chip began farting continuously, being amusing to only them as you and Alfie sat shoulder-to-shoulder, jokingly covering Arabella like she was about to be attacked.

“Why we doing that? Why we all farting?” Alfie scratched his ear.

It was then that a little ‘poot’ came from your lap.

The boys went quiet as you lifted Alfie’s jacket from Arabella’s head, only to find her giggling to herself.

“Whoopsy mummy.” She whispered with her hand over her mouth.

Your head reared back in hysterical laughter while Alfie chuckled and pinched his nosebridge.

Greg was leaning forwards on his knees, tears pricking in his eyes as Chip clutched at his stomach.

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At the top of the mountain, Greg paid for a print out of the photo you’d all taken, and then got a round of drinks that he thought was going to be alcoholic based on the presentation of them.

They’d carved out a pineapple and filled the inside with a drink. Chip and Greg were sharing while you and Alfie did too.

Once you’d all finished your drinks, and taken a load of pictures together (mainly of you and Alfie, sometimes with Arabella) you ended up walking through a little museum that was surrounded by rainforest-like trees.

Arabella insisted on walking by herself, so you put her down and she waddled her way through the museum, stopping to look at only the most intricate of paintings.

The contemporary, modern pieces didn’t interest her in the slightest, but all the large ones with numerous colours had her looking at them in awe.

You stayed close to her while the boys lingered behind, doing a few bits for the video before continuing on outside.

“It’s butt plug man.” Alfie sniggered while pointing his camera at a statue of a man with a tear-drop shaped head.

“Where’s your one, Alf?” You hummed.

“I don’t have one.” He scoffed.

You looked at him sceptically, as if you knew otherwise.

“Where’s yours?” He retorted.

“In your boxers.”

“That was cold.” Chip chuckled, nodding in approval, “That was fucking cold— Y’know what?” He gave you a high five and you shrugged nonchalantly.

“I’m here all day. It’s just what I do.”

“We could be in Thailand. This looks like the places those monkeys, like, steal your shoelaces and shit.” Alfie explained, filming the area for his own vlog, “D’you agree, girl?”

You hummed and nodded, “I know what you mean, it does.”

“Yes.” He hissed, pumping his fist, “Mrs approval, that’s all I want.”

You all walked around outside for a little while longer, and you grabbed a few photos of Arabella staring out at nothing, along with a few of her next to her dad, before venturing into the next part of the museum which was designated to crystals.

You had to remind Arabella that she had to hold Alfie’s hand throughout the entire time, and if she let go then she’d have to be carried for the rest of the day. You didn’t want to risk her touching things and damaging them, so instilling this rule was your safest bet.

The boys weren’t too arsed, except for Chip, whereas you were mesmerised by all the beautiful colours and intricate designs.

“Isn’t it mad that nature can just do this.” You whispered, looking at the camera Frampton was holding, “Bella’s dossing about with her dad ‘coz he doesn’t give a shit but this is so cool to me.”

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Unfortunately, the queue for the sledding down the hill was ridiculously long, so you all made the unanimous decision to come back in the morning before it got popular.

There was a little convenience store around, so you all grabbed some snacks and drinks.

The monsters they had were tiny, just about the size of Alfie’s head and he could hold one between his thumb and first finger.

You would be lying if you said the size comparison didn’t have your tummy doing little flips, but you were also in public, so that was a thought you were going to have to keep to yourself.

Until Alfie looked at you, noticing the look in your eye and laughing, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“You little fuckin’ freak.”

“Did I miss something?” Chip frowned.

“Nah, nah.”

You giggled, unfurling yourself from his arms and going to get some stuff for yourself.

When you returned with a bottle of Dr. Pepper and a small tub of Texas BBQ Pringles, you found Alfie holding the tiny can to his mouth and uttering about wanting to ‘fuck it’.

You blinked, expression blank.

“Your mrs caught you, bro.” Chip cackled.

“Nah,” Alfie whispered, turning to you, “Nah, you too, girl. C’mere.”

“No. I see how it is.” You shrugged, “You’d rather make love to a can of white monster than the mother of your child. Fine.”

“I made love you last night, is that not enough?”

“I knew it!” Chip gasped, “I fucking knew it.”

“Mummy?” Arabella came waddling over to you holding a KitKat, “TeeTat please?”

“No, you’re already having Magic Stars.”

“Please!” She begged.

“No.” You repeated.

“I love the way you talk to her like she’s 20.” Chip chuckled, “Just straight up ‘no’.”

You shrugged, “If I baby talk her, it makes her think she’s close to getting her way.”

“Daddy.” She pouted, “TeeTat.”

“I know.” He hummed, “KitKat or Magic Stars?”

She huffed at being given an ultimatum, before shuffling off.

“AB.” Greg whispered to her at the counter.

She perked her head up, watching as he gestured for her to hand it over. A triumphant grin took over her face as she passed it to him, observing as he paid and then slid it into his pocket.

“I’ll give it to you later, don’t tell mummy or daddy.” He winked, ruffling her hair.

She giggled, stomping her feet excitable and nodding before running back to you, only to stack it right at your feet.

“For God sake.” You huffed as her lower lip trembled and tears brewed in her water line.

Alfie took your snacks from you so he could pay and give you the room to pick her up.

You were lucky to make it outside before she started properly wailing.

Finding a bench, you sat down with her on your lap and checked over her body, making sure she hadn’t cut herself anywhere or hit her head off the shelf.

“Oh, Bells.” You frowned as she cried, “You’re okay, chick. Big fall, hm?”

She nodded, coughing and leaning into your chest.

“Mummy’s here, you’re alright.”

“Hurted.”

“I know.” You cooed, wrapping your arms around her tighter.

She managed to calm herself down after you placed a soothing hand on her back and rubbed back and forth.

Alfie came out the shop with a white plastic bag, carrying everything for the three of you.

“Bells, we’re going hat shop. Wanna go get a hat?” He cooed, tickling under her chin.

“Daddy.” She sniffled, reaching for him.

“Oh, I know, darlin’.” He sighed, handing you the bag so he could carry your daughter around.

In the hat store, Greg got another hat and Alfie got a red bucket hat. Arabella ended up picking out a purple cap with little yellow flowers dotted all over it.

“That’s pretty, baby.” You grinned as they walked out in their new hats.

She grinned at the compliment, giggling shyly.

The walk back to the car was leisurely, the journey even more so as you pulled into the car park of where you were headed next.

“Ask me about my fit!” Alfie said to Chip.

“Oi, tell me about your fit.”

“Pwwwww … what?!” Alfie blew out air dramatically, causing a lot of chuckles and head shakes.

“I thought you were gonna run through it!”

“Ah, yeah yeah yeah,” Alfie nodded, “Head—“

“If you’re offering.” You smirked.

He pointed to you, “Behave. Head, CR7 bucket hat, priceless—“

“Boring!”

“Reader, shut up, man!”

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The water was fucking freezing. You had no doubts that it probably would’ve been lovely had the weather been above mediocre, however it wasn’t. The sky was grey and cloudy, and the water you were standing in shot goosebumps up your skin.

Arabella stood on the side in a little one piece that had a frilly skirt around the edge. She stared at the water like it might reach out and bite her.

“You coming?” You hummed, reaching out for her.

Alfie sat down entirely, submerging his full body apart from his head in the water, deciding to just soak himself to get over the constant shivers.

“Scared, mummy.” Arabella sniffled.

There was a little red mark on her knees from where they’d made contact with the floor of the convenience store earlier, and the physical evidence of her hurt made your heart weep, but you knew this was just what came with being a toddler. You were sure there were numerous times where you would’ve injured yourself in public and won’t remember it anymore.

“I know, it’s a little scary, huh?” You spoke with a light tone, trying to encourage her to get in, “But look, me and daddy did it. Do you wanna join us?”

“Bells, come join me, darlin’.” Alfie beckoned her closer.

“Bella, Bella, Bella.” Greg chanted for her.

She also had inflatables wrapped around her biceps, making her arms stick out a whole lot more than usual. It made her look kinda silly, but you were okay with her looking slightly ridiculous if it meant she’d be alive.

“Otay, I come.” She finally agreed, stepping one foot into the water before screaming at how cold it was.

You all laughed heartily at her reaction.

“Daddy’s coming to get you.” Alfie stood up to his full height, water dripping from his swimming trunks.

“Daddy, too cold!”

“Nah, you just gotta get used to it, Bells.” He said, picking her up under her armpits and holding her to his chest before sitting back down in the water.

Her cheeks puffed out immediately, and she flapped for a while before finding her dads shoulders and latching onto them.

“Good girl, baby!” You cheered, clapping.

“Fuckin’ell, she’s braver than me!” Chip guffawed, finally finding it within himself to submerge below his stomach.

“Let’s go swim, yeah?” Alfie kicked out into the deeper end, treading water and holding Arabella out by her hands, “Kick, okay? I wanna see big splashes from your feet.”

She grunted while trying to hold her head above water, but kicked as she’d been taught in her swimming lessons, creating a splash that would’ve been considered dramatic and big for anyone her size.

“If I let go, will you swim to mummy?”

Arabella nodded.

Alfie slowly let go of his daughter's fingers, however he kept his arms outstretched in case it all went wrong and he needed to intervene as soon as possible.

“Look at that!” Greg exclaimed as Arabella basically doggy-paddled toward you.

“Yay, Bella!” You beamed at her, lifting her into your arms once she reached you.

She coughed and wiped her face, squeezing her eyes shut before opening them again.

“Too cold, mummy.” She whimpered, lips chattering.

“Okay, we’ll get out.” You kissed her cheek, rising from the shallow end and stepping out, “I’m proud of you, though.”

You found her pink and orange towel poncho amongst the other items you’d brought out and left near the sun loungers, putting it over her head until she was wrapped and warming up again.

“Where’s she gone?” Chip threw his hands up.

“It’ll be too cold for her.” Alfie tutted before flipping off of a surface into the deep end.

Once she’d warmed up again, she wanted to go back in.

“Why doesn’t Uncle Chip hold you, yeah? Because he can’t go in properly?” You proposed the idea.

“Sounds good.” Chip nodded, taking Arabella from you.

He remained on his knees in the shallow bit, holding onto your daughter like his life depended on it, occasionally bringing her up and down out of the water to make little splashes.

You and Alfie had ventured far off into the deep end at this point, swimming around each other with teasing grins. The sensual looks were merely because you’d noticed his eyes giving your body a whole lot of attention, and he could say the same about you.

“You look so fit right now.” Alfie sighed, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Mmm, careful. We’re in public.” You tutted, your hands clasping at the back of his neck.

“I would literally fuck you right now if it was sanitary and you didn’t care.”

“In front of our daughter and your friends? Very classy, Alf.”

“Okay, maybe if they all fucked off, yeah.”

It caused you to laugh audibly and lean further into his touch, resting your cheek on his shoulder.

“Maybe you’ll get lucky tonight.” You murmured.

“Really? Two nights in a row?”

Teasingly, you shrugged, “I said maybe.”

“Fuck … you’re actually a nightmare.”

You scoffed, reeling back and slapping him playfully.

“Nah, a good nightmare. My favourite nightmare.”

“Okay, ew, cringe.”

“Bro!” He huffed, “Can’t a guy compliment his mrs anymore?”

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After another battle with another car park and struggling to get out, you managed to make it home safely. The boys gave a quick scan of the shitty bathroom that had been contaminated before getting changed to go out.

You sighed, shaking your head as you held Arabella on your chest on the sofa.

“Bro, just leave her here and come with us.” Chip suggested jokingly, “She’ll be fine.”

“Chip, I’m not leaving my two-year-old at home by herself so I can go out drinking. Besides, even if I did, I would be shitting it the entire time I was out. It’s okay. Have fun, me and Bella will have a little girls night at home.”

Alfie came jogging down the stairs in his new outfit, fitting a cap over his head and adjusting the belt that was holding up his black denim jeans.

“I’ll see you in a bit. Call me if you need me, I love you.” He rambled, pressing a kiss to your forehead and lips twice.

He felt guilty about you not being able to come out and drink with them on the strip, and he really did want you to come along with them. However there was a two-year-old that needed managing and Alfie was there for an actual video shoot with Chip, meanwhile you were technically only there because of him and his inability to leave you and your daughter alone for longer than three days at a time.

“Bye, love you too.” You grinned, kissing him once more before they left.

Indeed, you and Arabella had a lovely girls night in.

You put on some random cartoon for her to enjoy while you ordered some food.

You went through the photos you’d taken throughout the day, favouriting the ones you were going to use in your Instagram before looking back and finding your daughter passed out, drooling onto a pillow.

You smiled softly at the sight of her asleep, and reached over, caressing her cheek and dotting kisses along her face.

She truly was your peace on Earth and the reason you woke up in the morning.

Her being unconscious only encouraged you to wrap up downstairs and go up to bed. You switched off the lights, although you knew the boys were likely to return in the early hours of the morning and cause some sort of ruckus, and took yourself and your daughter upstairs for bed.

When Alfie came home that night, he immediately made his way toward your shared bedroom.

He knocked at first, just to give you a warning of another presence, before walking in. He half expected to find you awake and doomscrolling, but what he did find was even better.

You had completely passed out, sprawled across the mattress next to your two-year-old (despite her having her own bed in the room). And to make things better, you were in nothing but one of his shirts.

It was moments like these that really reminded Alfie of why he kept going, of why he did the things that he does.

It was all for you.

He shifted Arabella out of your bed and into her own before stripping down into his boxers and sliding into bed beside you.

With a whine, you ended up snuggling right up to him, latching onto his bare torso.

“Alright, girl?”

Your response was a muffled nothing, something you gave him whilst being in the space between half-asleep and full unconsciousness.

He snorted, letting you curl yourself fully around him before returning the favour, making sure everything was perfect in the little space of his family before letting his eyes shut for the night.

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As promised, in the morning of your last day, you got in the car and went straight to the basket ride down the mountain.

On the way there, you, Alfie and Arabella made sure to call his mum to wish her a happy birthday. She was elated to see her son and the family he’d created, uttering an emotional ‘thank you’ before letting you go to queue up and resume filming for Chip’s channel.

You were a massive fan of Alfie’s outfit today. It was just something about your man in a crew neck jumper that really did it for you.

He had Arabella in his arms again, being cramped into a little basket next to Chip with her in his lap was rather humorous to you as you giggled before being shoved next to Greg.

“Well, this is cozy.” You commented mindlessly.

“Reader, don’t say that. You’ll make me feel like your mistress.” Greg joked as the men on the back of your basket began pushing you down it.

“Mistress?!” You guffawed, cheeks beginning to hurt from how much you’d smiled already this morning.

“I don’t know what it’s called! What’s the male version of mistress?”

“Greg.”

“Ooo, yeah, true.”

Halfway down the road, you managed to pick up quite a bit of speed, which spooked you a little and you couldn’t help but wonder how Arabella was doing ahead of you.

You couldn’t hear her crying, which was a good start.

In fact, she was having a whale of a time. She was clinging tight to her dad while giggling down his ear, enjoying the feeling of the wind in her hair.

At the bottom of the hill, you all got out and reunited.

Arabella was beaming.

Her eyes were half shut and there were tears streaming down her cheeks from the wind hitting them, but she was grinning like the Cheshire Cat nonetheless.

“Fun?” You gasped at her.

“So fun!” She giggled, dancing around your feet.

There were some pictures to collect that had been grabbed on the way down, so once those were paid for and in your possession, you moved on to finding somewhere to grab a drink.

There was a vending machine nearby, to which Chip grabbed an original, and a white Monster, whereas you grabbed a diet coke for yourself and water for Arabella.

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You ended up going for brunch in a little cafe where all the boys ended up ordering far too much for themselves, especially Chip, who was already groaning despite there being half a plate of food left for him to devour.

Arabella was shovelling porridge into her mouth, rather strategically flicking the banana slices to the side and ignoring them.

“Eat them, please.” You said, picking up on her habit.

She whined but slid it onto her spoon with her fingers anyway.

“Thank you.”

“Here.” Alfie coughed, sliding one of his sausages onto your plate.

You gave him a bamboozled look, but the way he was leaning back into his chair and groaning told you that his eyes had been bigger than his belly once more. You rolled your eyes at him but indulged in the food he’d given to you anyway, cutting it up beforehand.

It was then that you noticed Arabella shifting uncomfortably in her seat and tugging at the hem of her skirt.

“Alfie, can you take her to the toilet please?”

He sighed and stood from the table.

“Don’t huff at me.” You retorted.

“Wh— I didn’t!”

“Daddy.” Bella slid off the chair, trotting from foot to foot excessively.

“Alright, I know. Let’s go.” He guided her towards the restroom after taking the bag you’d packed in case of any emergencies or accidents.

“He listens to you so well.” Greg cackled, “Honestly, I’ve never seen a man be more obedient.”

“Good.” You shrugged, “I didn’t carry our child for nine months and tear my vagina for him to sit around and do nothing.”

“Fairs. I hear it.” Chip nodded, reluctantly taking a bite of toast as to not waste so much food.

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The CR7 was not your first choice of afternoon activity, and it wasn’t entertaining to you or Arabella in the slightest, however, you did have a very amusing time taking the piss out of all the statues for looking nothing like Ronaldo in the slightest.

It was funny how an entire building dedicated to one person could get so many things about his facial symmetry and harmony wrong.

The only thing that did seem to catch your daughter's attention, was the massive statue of Ronaldo made from chocolate.

“Look at that Bells, all chocolate.” Alfie hummed.

“Yummy.”

“Yeah, but you can’t eat it.”

“Otay. No hungry.” She turned her back on both Alfie and the statue.

“Okay, you’re not hungry anyway, that’s good.” He chuckled as Greg keeled over, watching the two year old walk away from her dad like he meant nothing to her.

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Going back to the house and mucking about by the pool might’ve been the highlight of your trip. Just you, your daughter, your boyfriend, and his mates splashing about and cracking jokes left right and centre.

“Alfie!” You screamed as he jumped in right next to you, sending a tidal wave your way.

Greg, for some reason, had brought all the hats he’d acquired down, and was swapping between wearing them all in the pool.

Arabella was sitting on the side, her little legs dangling into the water, feet swaying back and forth as she watched you with a smile.

Chip was reclined back on a sun bed, still wearing his entire outfit (shoes included) and blowing into the air holes of her armbands, filling them up so she could put them on and go for a swim.

“Arab, here!” He exclaimed once they were done.

She toddled over to him, cautious of the wet decking around her and let him slide the rings onto her arm.

And then she was in; swimming around her dad, clambering up his torso and splashing you.

“Under!” She begged.

“No, you can’t. It’s not safe.” Alfie shook his head.

With a huff, she turned her back on her dad in the water, but still let him hold onto her.

“Hold onto my arm, here.” He patted his forearm.

Once she was latched on, he held his arm out and spun around, making her squeal in joy at the water coating her face.

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The time spent by the pool was brief, because Chip had other plans of going to see a statue designated to Jesus.

The skies had cleared up by the time you reached the monument, and a few jokes about God being the reason why were passed between your group.

You’d wrapped your hand around the meat of Alfie’s bicep, vlogging for him as he held Arabella in his other arm. Her legs were far too tired from all the kicking and swimming, and she was adamant about being carried for the rest of the day.

If anything, this trip had taught you that maybe paying the extra fee on a plane for a pushchair is worth it, and you’ll definitely be doing so next time you go away, because although Alfie had no issues hauling his daughter around all day, it did feel a little unfair to you that he didn’t have full mobility.

Unfortunately, all the boys were still super gassy, and Chip began chuckling loudly after an audible fart.

“You can’t fart on Jesus, bro.” Greg groaned.

“Wait, did you just emote on him?” Alfie chuckled, “Ah, so much of this is gonna be a toss up of who—“ He waved his hands up and down in a motion that had Arabella giggling, “Oh yeah, six sevennn.”

She cackled loudly, repeating the action.

“Your baby’s brainrotted, bro. Two years old and doing 67. Cooked.” Chip tutted, shaking his head.

You spent a few minutes taking photos, laughing as Chip did some rather questionable poses while Greg held his phone.

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The wind was mental, and you weren’t even properly on the coast.

You were stood on a hilly section as Chip and Frampton went back and forth about which Star Wars scene was filmed here, and whether it was actually here, or on a separate island just off the coast.

“Mummy, cold.” Arabella tugged on the sleeve of your shirt.

“I know, it is chilly, isn’t it?”

One look at Alfie and he was making a trip to the car and back, returning with a little blue GAP hoodie, zipping it up at her front so she was warm enough to still stand there as Chip got some content for his video.

You did end up making your way further to the edge of the hill, so much so that you could taste the salt in the air from the ocean.

Greg had snuck Arabella the KitKat he’d bought her yesterday, and she was currently sitting amongst the grass, breaking it up herself and making her way through it.

“Bella, wanna get a picture with mummy?” You cooed, sitting next to her and pulling out your phone.

She grinned at the camera as you snapped a few photos before putting it away and staying in your position on the grass, enjoying the view from the floor. It was also good to rest your feet for a little while.

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For dinner, everyone had relied on Alfie finding a good spot, and judging by the looks of things on the menus, he hadn’t done too bad. There were some good pasta options for Arabella and yourself, and the boys were most definitely eyeing up all the meaty options.

Frampton ordered a pizza, Chip a chicken parm, Greg some bolognese (matching with Arabella) and Alfie was sharing a large pizza with you.

The food was very good, and you were very pleased with Alfie’s decision.

Despite having a good meal, once you were all back at the house, your boyfriend was stuffing his face with dry cereal on a sun lounger hole while Greg splashed about in the pool again.

“Despite not doing much stuff, and it’s all been a little bit weird, I’ve had the best time of my life.” He said, leaning on the decking to talk.

“Well, ladies and gentlemen, on that note, we say goodbye to Madeira, and we say goodbye to you.” Chip spoke to the camera.

“Bye!” Arabella yelled obnoxiously while throwing one of her barbie dolls in pool.

“Yeah, she’s far too hyper, I’m not happy.” Alfie shook his head, watching his daughter mess about.

“It’s gonna be awful putting her to bed.” You commented.

“Oh, don’t even!” He groaned, throwing his head back, “Bells, do you wanna just go to bed now?” He tried, despite knowing it wouldn’t even remotely work.

“No!”

Carefully you made your way out of the large double bed tiptoeing through the doorway to not wake up the muscular man, you quickly brushed your teeth before making your way to the diary room

"reader" the voice greeted, her voice as robotic as yesterday

"voice" you smiled still in your pyjamas and slippers "has my order come?" you questioned voice still groggy from only just waking up

"please open the front door" she responded and you giddily ran out of the room all tiredness leaving your body

You were an early riser and you could tell even from only knowing him a day, alfie was the opposite, you poked your head back into the bedroom seeing his unconscious body, mouth half open and soft snores coming from him made you let out a small giggle

When opening the door, you were a little disappointed you had one large banner, a couple sheets of paper and 2 felt tips

"are the sidemen not loaded, the fuck is this" you questioned pulling the items in and placing them on the nearby coffee table "get more from b&m with 5 quid, cant even afford 2 beds"

~

9:03 AM

Waiting for alfie to wake up and interact with you was possibly the longest and 'boringist' experience you've ever had, having no phone or access to social media was seeming harder than you originally anticipated

You found yourself making a cup of tea and taking a head start on your team banner, even coming up with a team name 'give us another bed', you first wrote it in bubble letters, something you've never been good at since your primary school days

But it looked horror so you flipped the banner over to start again due to only been given 1

Your second attempt was a lot better, cursive in pink, you knew this definitely wasn't alfie's vibe yet he was still sleeping, so he doesn't have a say

9:45 AM

"the shop is now open" the voice spoke, startling you almost making you smudge your writing "please make your way to the diary room"

You moved quickly, looking into alfie again, he'd moved position, duvet fallen down to the waistline of his joggers allowing you to see his very toned abs and chest, making you flush before you snapped out of it walking into the diary room

"so this is where the budget went" you laughed seeing the large tablet in the corner showing multiple items up for grabs

"all teams have access to these items" the feminine robot told you, nodding as you scrolled through the items, chess board for arthur, guiness for beano, monster for alfie

You contemplated for a moment looking at the point rankings 4 for reader and AB, 2 for Bach and Beano and 2 for Danny and Arthur, you assume they had, had an extra challenge like you

The monster cost 1 point and you were already up by 2, you thought against it deciding to attempt to wake alfie up instead

~

10:03 AM

"alfie" you touched his shoulder, pushing him lightly whilst whispering "AB" you tried again when he didn't move, even going as far as to prod his cheek "its 10"

He didn't make any noise just turning to the other side away from you

"right" you sighed "can i confirm one white monster please" you spoke whilst looking at the camera "how much sleep does one man need" you groaned leaving the room again making your way back to your banner

Your monopoly board was still on the floor untouched since the night before, your eyes lit up at the sight a thought forming in your head, alfie still asleep and he owns 2 hotels on the board

You quickly removed 1 of the hotels pocketing it before you got caught, even though it was only the two of you in the flat, you giggled to yourself before opening the front door and seeing your ordered monster

~

10:18 AM

"alfie" you nudged him again receiving no response, you cheekily moved your hand holding the cooled can, placing it on the exposed side of his neck he immediately flinched

"what the fuck" he moved away, hand cradling his neck eyes softening a bit when he saw it was only you

"its 10" you giggled at his reaction "I've been trying to wake you for ages"

"its way too early girl, come back to sleep" he pulled the duvet down on your side trying to coerce you back into the large bed

"half of the days basically gone" you argued "got you a present if you get out of bed" you hid the monster behind your back smiling suspiciously at the larger man "please, I've made our banner" you pleaded again as he sat up properly, hair a mess and eyes threatening to shut again

"better not be ketchup or some shit" he looked at you as you walked backwards out of the room almost tripping over his open unpacked suitcase making him laugh and run and hand through his hair

~

10:26 AM

By the time alfie had made himself look semi-presentable, brushed his teeth and smoothed his bed head as much as he could, you had already left his monster on the kitchen island with a note made from your newly acquired paper and pens

to alfie from your new roomate, reader :)

He hadn't bothered getting changed yet, since you were still pyjama clad yourself, with your bunny slippers on, alfie could admit he thought you were majorly attractive especially with the bunny slippers

"this is so cute" he smiled when he saw the can and note causing you to blush and laugh, since he hadn't bothered changing he was still shirtless making you incredibly flustered just by looking at him

"it did cost a point" you sighed "but were still one ahead, so thats good" you pointed out as he cracked open the can

"ill savour it then"

~

10:59 AM

"let me see your banner" alfie asked slowly sipping on his drink waiting for your grand reveal "is that our name?" he laughed when he saw the cursive writing

"yeah" you smiled "they basically sent us nish" you gestured to the rest of the items on the table

"ask for a tree, they send a branch" alfie attempted a joke but only resulted in a cringed out face from the two of you

~

11:31 AM

By 11 you and alfie had both changed into day clothes, alfie was obviously repping the young LA clothes he always had, whilst you were just in plain jeans and a halter neck trying to combat the heat of the flat, since the sidemen had obviously forgot to install air con

"you want me to make some eggs?" AB questioned as he turned the hob on

"please" you smiled before looking back at what you could add to your banner "you think Arthur got his chess set?" you referenced the shop

"probably" alfie concentrated on his eggs "man cant live a day without playing, probably brought one with him" he laughed

"wonder what they'll add for me" you thought aloud whilst adding some stick figures of you and alfie to the banner

"well what's your favourite thing, like ever" he recalled your question from yesterday

"mhm" you pondered putting your pen down looking over at the muscular man "my bunny or cat, they're staying with my mum right now"

"nah, you have a bunny and a cat" alfie laughed "is your cat not a scrappy one?"

"oh she is, I have to keep them separate in my flat, its so sad" you saw him laughing over the oven "what's so funny?"

"can just imagine, you inbetween them fighting, like theyre your kids"

~

1:05 PM

"duos, please open your front door" voices robotic voice greeted you again, you and alfie were quick to race towards the door, him ultimately winning due to speed but you would argue he was closer

His large frame in the doorway did block your view of the outside causing more anticipation from you on what was on the other side

"fuck off" he grunted carrying in a large metal frame with Velcro stuck on it, your view was still blocked only seeing the work of his biceps and arms

"oh were playing battleships" you realised noticing the ships and x placeholders "im sick at this" you promised

"ill hold you to that"

~

1:45 PM

The first game was between Danny and Arthur vs Bach and Beano, voice lets you and alfie know that Danny and Arthur won, receiving 1 point

The second game is between you and alfie vs Beano and Bach

"we should go for the edges" you tell alfie looking at the large board in front of you

"okay yeah" alfie starts moving your ships placing some near the edges, some in the centre "good?" he questioned

"perfect" you highfived him waiting for the other team to confirm they were ready "whilst were waiting" you started turning to him with a grin "will you pretty please hang the banner up" you held up some tape you found hidden under the sink

"yeah girl, where'd you want it" his wording made him immediately laugh, you catching on and turning red as well as he covered his face

"above the sofa" you answered, watching him move still giggling at what he said whilst music started playing, signalling the other team were ready "alfie alfie" you shouted into the living room, observing as he ran back jumping off the sofa, leaving the banner half falling down

"reader and AB please go first" voice spoke from the speakers in the corner of the room

"go in the middle?" AB pointed at a spot looking to you for a nod "C3"

"miss" Beano's strong accent flooded the room, the only real voice aside from alfie's you'd heard in the last 24 hours

As the game progressed more coordinates were called out

"D2" - miss

"A2" - hit

"F4" - miss

"E5" - miss

"A1" - hit

"E2" - miss

You and AB took lead hitting 3 of their ships whilst they only had 1

"used to play this on snapchat games" you told alfie whilst placing one of the hits on the board "rip" he let out a laugh before pointing at an empty spot on the board

"they've probably gone there" he presumed noticing it was the only large space left on the board

You listened to him

"C3" - miss

"C1" - miss

"B4" - miss

"B1" - miss

"A4" - miss

Beano and Bach's laugh was deafening as they announced the outcome of your choice's

"what the fuck" alfie exclaimed watching as the board filled with miss after miss and bach and beanos kept hitting again and again

"they've gone down here" you pointed to the bottom of the board where the 6 line was, completely unoccupied, you still had 2 ships left to get, whilst bach and beano only needed 1

"we're so dumb" alfie laughed pacing around the flat head in hands

"D1" bachs voice flooded the room resulting in a groan from both you and alfie

"hit"

~

2:07 PM

You lost the game against bach and beano resulting in them earning a point

"i thought i was good" you smiled sadly referencing your earlier comment

"next game" alfie promised taking another small sip of his monster, having half the can left

"let me have some" you asked "need the advantage" he laughed and you thought he was about to hand you the can but he held it to you lips using his other hand to tilt your head back, your face flushed as you swallowed

"thanks" you mumbled watching his smile turn cheeky, smiling at your confusion

"AB and reader, please reset your board" voice asked you and alfie, immediately moving to replace your ships and face arthur and danny

"different tactic?" you asked alfie receiving a nod

You and alfie were very happy with the placement of ships, you'd gone differently to last time, they were more centrally placed

"A2" Arthur's voice came through the speakers

"ha miss" alfie responded jumping around the room

"D6" - hit

"F3" - miss

"B1" - miss

"E3" - hit

"F5" - miss

Again you took the lead against tv and aarons by the time they had hit 2 ships, you had hit 4 only needing one more hit to win the point

"we're gonna win" you exclaimed to alfie feeling cocky

"yeah girl" he grabbed your shoulders and shook you making you giggle

"B6" you spoke loud enough so the mics could hear you

"hit" danny's voice felt saddened and you and alfie ran around the flat screaming, so loud the others could probably hear you on the other floors

~

2:23 PM

You and alfie went to the diary room after your win, looking at the updated score board it was obvious people had bought things bringing their scores down

AB and reader - 4

Bach and Beano - 1

Arthur and Danny - 3

"still in the lead" alfie flexed his arms at the camera

"did bach and beano spend all their points" you laughed

"probably bought something period related" ab looked at the camera "girls ew" you pulled a face at him

"ill just fuck off then"

~

3:02 PM

"what do you wanna eat" you asked alfie whilst you lounged on the sofa, near but not quite touching "burgers?" you didn't let him answer jumping up off the sofa to the kitchen

"no ketchup" he demanded

"you have such a shit pallet, have Sabina and chip not cultured you"

"i like what i like" he smirked still drinking his monster

"does that not taste old yet?"

"its liquid gold"

~

4:15 PM

"reader" voice started in the diary room "how would you rate AB's cooking"

"10/10 for the gesture" you smiled "if i could have a man make me eggs every morning i would" you looked towards the door "flavour wise, 6/10, i don't know why that boys so afraid of flavours"

"AB" voice had kicked you out of the room instead brining your partner in "how would you rate readers cooking"

"10/10 i cant lie, this whole experience is a fever dream, got a rocket in my bed, making me burgers and telling me she owns a bunny named fluffy" AB raised his can to the camera "thank you sidemen"

~

4:46 PM

"should we buy Arthur's chess board?" you asked laying on the floor staring at the ceiling

"why?"

"piss him off" you laughed "just imagine him pacing 'im a grandmaster, i play chess'" you put on your best jersey accent "he taught me how to play"

"go on then" alfie watched you jump up and go to the diary room to confirm your purchase before looking to the floor where your abandoned monopoly game was "oi where the fuck is my hotel?"

~

5:05 PM

"you know what would bang right now?" alfie leant against the kitchen island "other than having my hotel back"

"i didn't take your hotel" you lied receiving a look from him

"toasted marshmallows" you let out a hum at his suggestion

~

5:17 PM

"so you live by yourself in the grotto?" you asked alfie "no pets?"

"nah, my mum has 2 dogs nearby, Pablo and Chica" he told you

"that's so cute, i would say they can meet my pets but i don't think that would end well" you laughed at the thought of your feisty cat and the two dogs going at each other

"buns would be in trouble" he joked

"she can fight" you promised

"feisty bunny"

~

5:41 PM

"gonna have a shower to kill time" you announced making your way to the bathroom

"ight" alfie responded shaking his monster can "last sip" he held it out to you

"you gonna let me do it myself?" you asked making the muscular man blush watching as he stood up and made his way over to you, he placed his hand on your chin lifting your head up as he pour the remains of the drink down your throat, it felt weirdly intimate compared to last time but in a good way

"your welcome" he took the can away from your lips before wiping the excess of your lips

~

5:55 PM

"your boys dropping game on a sidemen shoot" AB laughed into the camera in the diary room "think its working" he smirked

~

7:04 PM

By this point in the evening you and AB had both showered and were feeling insanely bored

"duos" voice's robotic voice blasted through the speakers "tonight a secret challenge will be taking place" you and alfie looked at each other in shock "please open your front door"

You both shot up, alfie beating you to the door again he opened the door to see nothing, absolutely nothing

"is there suppose to be something?" you questioned only receiving a shrug from AB

"only one duo has received the challenge" voice confirmed

"bet you its bach and beano" alfie looked at you

"tenner?" you held out your hand

~

7:07 PM

"bach and beano" voice said in their diary room, similar to yours but coloured differently "you have been chosen for the secret challenge" bach rubbed his hands together as beano stuck out his tongue

"we are honoured" bach knelt in front of the camera bowing to the voice

"your challenge is to sabotage one of the other duos"

"sabotage reader or danny aarons" beano's face was conflicted as he looked to bach

"can't do arthur and danny, gotta think about the pod" he spoke seriously making beano nod in agreement

Beano's hand reached out and hit a giant red button in front of the pair labelled reader opposed to the one on the right labelled danny

~

7:33 PM

"im all nervous and giddy now" alfie spoke jumping around the flat again

"we can" you thought about it for a moment "play monopoly"

"gonna give me back my hotel?" he asked walking over to you

"you know i don't even think you ever had one" you tried to lie but a smile ended up on your face

"nah girl give it" he pleaded "do i have to pat you down or some shit" he laughed raising his hand

"fine fine" you reached into your pocket feeling the hotel which you had transferred from your pyjamas when you got changed however you didn't pull it out, just giving him the bird

"nah your fucked" alfie laughed

"ill put my pyjamas on then we can play" you skipped away from him into the bedroom to receive your clothes as well as hide the hotel under his pillow

~

7:45 PM

"stop" alfie yelled when he landed on your property again "gonna flip this board in a minute, his shirt was long discarded due to the rising heat in the flat

"50 please" you held out your hand

"nah you still owe me my hotel" he shook his head "were even"

~

9:00 PM

"didn't make any other posters" alfie noticed looking at the half hung up banner from the floor where the monopoly board was

"i can do it tomorrow whilst your still asleep" you laughed

"that was a one time thing" he promised "ill be up bright and early tomorrow, before you"

"im sure"

~

9:46 PM

"so you do the fellas pod with chip and cal" you asked looking in the freezer for the small pint of ice cream you'd been given, forgetting about monopoly after AB complained about how much money he was giving you

"you're looking at the 3rd host" he took 2 spoons out of the draw, handing one over to you

"gonna have me on?" you asked "throw me some promo"

"depends how this goes" he laughed both of you shovelling ice cream out of the tub at the same time

~

10:05 PM

"done nothing and im so tired" you told alfie

"we played a very tiring game of battleships and almost bought a chess set to piss off arthur" he washed the spoons in the sink "we've had a long day"

"are you sponsored by young LA or something?" you asked randomly looking at his outfit "all your clothes are from there"

"code AB" he looked at the camera with a wink "myprotein too"

~

10:30 PM

"i fear only a doom scroll could save me from sleep right now" you laughed

"someone at tiktok is getting fired for this" he imitated one of those ad's you get every 5 videos from the kitchen whilst you laid on the sofa

~

10:45 PM

"what would you spend the money on?" alfie asked receiving no response, moving to look at you properly finding you fast asleep on the sofa, he stood there for a moment before placing his hands underneath you, and carrying you into your shared bed and pulling the duvet up over you

"better not clip this" he mumbled to himself before getting in his side only to find something hard under his pillow "fuck off" he laughed

User1: so excited to see what bach and beano do

ItalianBach: reader, im not sorry 🫢 -> Yourusername: you will be 🤜

User2: 24:03 that is arthur in readers body

DannyAarons: so i wasn't in this vid then?

Yourusername: what hotel?

User3: Hows AB done that then -> User4: dont even think he knows readers name

User5: where was danny and arthurs screen time?

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?”.

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.