paloma Ꮺ

[cryloma]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ┊ @, cryloma, requests / open !

── ' ∞ fucked my way up to the top ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ultraviolence

paloma, twenty , lana del rey enthusiast, willne, ab, coffee, jewellery, lamps, pink, flamingo stan, angel, arthur hill, love, baths, diary's, welsh, mdni, animals, bears, stars, science, hairspray, curlers, adidas, bags, levi's, apple juice, minecraft, harry potter, au's, harry lewis, tv shows, memes, sugar, soft

── ੈ✩‧₊˚ check out my latest fic !

. . . masterlist requesting & blog rules!

[cryloma]

Thanks for 200 followers everyone x

[buttlesangel]

batman AB 🦇݁ ˖ִ 1

a/n: wooooo batman ab is here after ages, hope u guys enjoy, this part is lowkey just an intro and also omg its so hard incooperating alfies personality with batmans like r u chalant or non chalant IDK! hope u enjoy guys... also apparently alfie can cook now.. idk

@ghostwrittenbygrace @dilfslutsstuff @kislnd @lenneyswhore @cigarettesafterbooks @teleskinnd @obaltineobyss @luvbuttlestv @sdmnpact @lostdeerinthemist @ghostedindigo @bladerunr @buttlesbunnie @lenneyology @blooqz 

The heels of your 12cm black patent leather pumps are killing you by the time you stumble out of the lift on the fourth floor, the cheap leather pinching at your pinky toes in that specific way that makes you want to kick them off and walk barefoot across the marble lobby. Four weeks at the London Herald and you still haven't broken them in properly, four weeks of running coffee, transcribing interviews that should have been yours, and being treated like a piece of dirt on the bottom of someones shoe.

Your boss, Marcus, has been on one all day. “Get me Batman. Get me an exclusive. I don't care if you don’t think he’s real, you will find him.”

As if Batman just shows up for interns.

You fumble with your keys, the strap of your bag sliding off your shoulder and taking your blazer with it, revealing the wrinkled silk blouse underneath. You'd spilled printer ink on your skirt at noon, and there's a coffee stain on your collar that you'd tried to hide with a scarf, but the scarf is now stuffed in your bag because the office was roughly the temperature of the sun.

"Rough day at the office?"

You don't even jump anymore. You know that voice, low and amused.

Alfie Buttle is leaning against his doorframe, across yours, arms crossed over his chest. He's wearing a white collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, black slacks that sit perfectly on his hips, and a watch that probably costs more than your annual salary. His thick, curly brunette hair is tousled in that deliberate way. The small moustache and slight beard give him a roguish look, and those green eyes are crinkled at the corners with barely suppressed laughter.

"You have no idea," you groan, finally getting the key to turn. "Marcus is going to actually murder me. He's obsessed with this Batman story. Thinks it's going to win him some award. He only wants me to do this because I’m the only one desperate enough to wait up at 3 in the morning to catch glimpse of something that very well may not even be real. “I want a story, make it good, interesting, find out about his personal life”. Does he really think, on the 1% chance i actually find him, he will talk to me about his personal life? What a twat!

You mimic your boss's tone, pitching your voice lower, and Alfie's mouth twitches. He pushes off the doorframe, unfolding that tall, athletic frame, broad shoulders, defined arms that strain against the cotton of his shirt when he moves.

"Sounds like a dickhead," Alfie says, stepping closer. He smells like sandalwood and something metallic, sharp. "What's he expect you to do? Go to a crime scene and ask him about his hopes and dreams?"

You snort, leaning against your door, too tired to care about posture. "Basically. He thinks because I'm young and" you make air quotes "'approachable,' that Batman's just going to swoop down and confess his life story to me."

"Shame," Alfie says, his green eyes catching yours. There's something there, a flicker of intensity that makes your stomach flip before he blinks and it's gone, replaced by that easy, sarcastic humor. "Could be a good story. 'Batman Life Story: Exclusive with the London Herald's Most Approachable Intern.' Solid material, surely."

"Don't mock me," you laugh, but there's no heat in it. You like when he teases you. It's become the highlight of your evenings, these hallway chats. "I'm serious. I spent three hours today staking out this warehouse in Canary Wharf because Marcus got a 'tip' that Batman was sighted there. Do you know what I found?"

"I’m assuming not Batman."

"Rats. I found rats. And a very angry security guard who threatened to call the police on me for trespassing."

Alfie winces sympathetically, but his lips are fighting a smile. "Well that's a bit shite. You’ll get him next time Marcus gives you another tip, I'm sure."

"Shut up," you say, but you're giggling now, leaning your head back against the door. "I'm going to get fired. Or worse, demoted to the obituaries section. I'll spend my career writing about dead people's cats."

"Well," Alfie says, reaching out to adjust his cufflink, platinum, simple, probably inherited along with whatever fortune his family clearly has, "if it's any consolation, I don't think Batman would give Marcus the time of day anyway. Seems like a smart bloke. Probably has excellent taste in avoiding twats like him."

"You think?"

"Definitely." His eyes travel over your face, softening slightly. "Probably prefers the company of… someone like you. Prettier. Better hair."

Your cheeks heat up. This is new, this directness. Usually, he keeps it to banter, to the edge of flirtation that you brush off because surely the man with the Aston Martin downstairs and the rolex on his wrist isn't actually flirting with the girl who can't afford dry cleaning.

"You're ridiculous," you say, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You know you look a mess, mascara probably smudged, blouse untucked, hair falling out of the professional updo you'd attempted at six this morning.

"And you're exhausted," Alfie counters. "Come on. I've got wine. Or tea, if you're too good for alcohol on a Tuesday."

You blink. In four weeks, you've never been inside his flat. You've seen the delivery men come and go, seen him leave at odd hours in suits that cost more than your rent, seen him return with bruises on his knuckles that he claims are from "boxing" and "the gym." He's friendly but closed off.

"I shouldn't," you say, even as your feet ache in agreement. "I've got to—"

"Stare at your laptop and panic about Batman?" He raises an eyebrow. "Come on. One glass. I'll even let you complain about Marcus some more. I've got excellent listening skills. Tragic, really. Wasted on investment banking."

"You don't do investment banking," you point out, finally pushing your door open to drop your bag inside. "You never actually say what you do."

Alfie smiles, slow and secretive. "Mysterious, aren't I?"

"Annoying," you correct, but you're stepping out into the hallway, pulling your door shut. "Fine. One glass. But if you're a serial killer, I'm going to be very cross."

"Fair enough." He unlocks his door, solid oak, heavy, with a security system that beeps when he enters the code, and gestures for you to enter. "After you."

His flat is exactly what you expected and nothing like it at the same time. The view of the Thames through floor-to-ceiling windows is breathtaking, the furniture modern and clearly expensive, but there's clutter too, books stacked on the coffee table, a jacket thrown over the back of a chair. It smells like him, that sandalwood-metal scent.

"Nice place," you say, trying not to gawk at the art on the walls. Is that a real Banksy? "Inheritance, right? You mentioned..."

"Family money," Alfie says easily, moving to the kitchen. "Boring story. Great-great-grandfather made a killing in shipping, grandfather diversified into investments, father continued the tradition."

He says it casually, dismissively, like the wealth that radiates from every surface is an embarrassment rather than a boast. You watch him pour wine, red, probably older than you are, into crystal glasses, his movements efficient and practiced.

"Must be nice," you say, then wince. "Sorry. That sounded bitchy."

"Not at all." He hands you a glass, his fingers brushing yours, warm and slightly calloused. "It's weird. I know it's weird. I don't talk about it much because... well." He shrugs those broad shoulders, the muscle shifting under the shirt. "People get strange when they know you've got money. Either they want something, or they think you're a wanker by default."

"Are you?" you ask, emboldened by exhaustion and the wine already warming your throat. "A wanker?"

Alfie laughs, a real laugh, head thrown back, showing the strong column of his throat. "God, probably. On my bad days. But I try to make up for it. Sometimes."

"Well, listening to your neighbor complain about her terrible job is a good start."

"See? I’m a saint." He leans against the counter, watching you with those green eyes that seem to see too much. "You're good at complaining, by the way. Very... passionate. I feel like I know Marcus n wanna batter the shit out of him, and I've never met the man."

"That’s a very sweet way to call me a bitch" you say, settling onto a barstool, kicking off your pumps with a sigh of relief. "When it comes to him I am, he’s a fucking dick who thinks Batman is going to solve all his problems cos his shitty articles get no reads."

Alfie smiles at you, his fanged grin showing. ”You’re not a bitch reader” He trails off. “And so…  what do you think?" Alfie asks, his voice dropping slightly. "About Batman?"

You swirl your wine, thinking. "I think... I think he's not real. And if he is, probably dangerous. But also..." You look up, finding his gaze intense and focused on you. "Also maybe necessary? The police are overwhelmed, the city's a mess. Someone has to do something, I guess. Even if it's a man in a bat costume battering people in dodgy alleyways."

"A bat costume," Alfie repeats, his mouth twitching. "You think it's a costume?"

"Isn't it?"

"Could be a very committed fashion choice."

You laugh, the stress of the day starting to uncoil from your shoulders. "You're impossible."

"And you're tired." He sets his glass down, moving to the fridge. "Have you eaten?"

"I had a granola bar at my desk around... two? Three?"

Alfie makes a disgusted noise. "Are you serious? I'm making you pasta."

"You don't have to—"

"I want to." He's already pulling ingredients out, artisanal pasta, fresh basil, parmesan that he grates with practiced ease. "Besides, if you pass out in the hallway from malnutrition, I'll have to explain to the building manager why there's an unconscious journalist blocking the lift. Very awkward for my reputation."

"You have a reputation?"

"Mysterious billionaire," he says dryly, chopping garlic with alarming speed. "Very reclusive. Probably up to no good."

"Probably," you agree, smiling into your wine.

He cooks while you talk, you tell him about the other interns, about the story you actually want to write (corruption in the housing authority), about your tiny hometown and your dreams of being a real journalist, not just a coffee fetcher. He listens with that focused attention, asking questions at the right moments, mocking you gently when you get too self-deprecating.

"You're not just a coffee girl," he says, plating the pasta with a precision that suggests training you don't want to think about. "You care. That's more than most."

"Is that your way of saying I'm annoying?"

"It's my way of saying you're..." He pauses, sliding the plate across to you, his green eyes holding yours. "Interesting. In a city full of boring people, you're out here chasing rats in warehouses because your boss told you to. It's admirable. Or stupid. Possibly both."

The pasta is incredible. You eat like you haven't seen food in days, and Alfie watches with amusement, picking at his own plate, drinking his wine.

"So," you say, around a mouthful of spaghetti, "if you're not a banker, and you're not just living off family money... what do you actually do? Late nights, mysterious bruises..." You gesture at his hands, where a faint discoloration marks his knuckles. "Boxing, you said?"

"Among other shit," he says smoothly. "I keep busy. Investments to manage, charities to pretend I care about, the occasional need to blow off anger boxing."

"Healthy."

"Isn’t it?" He meets your eyes. "You should try it. Punching things. Good for stress."

"I'll stick to wine and complaining," you say. "Safer for my nails."

"Priorities."

"Exactly."

After dinner, he walks you to your door. The hallway seems smaller now, intimate, and you're suddenly aware that you're barefoot, carrying your shoes, your blouse untucked, looking nothing like the professional woman who left this morning.

"Thanks," you say, turning to face him. "For the food. And the... you know. Listening."

"Anytime," Alfie says, and he means it. There's no mockery in his voice now, just that genuine interest that makes your chest tight. "I'm usually around. Insomniac. Feel free to knock if you need to complain about Marcus at 3 AM."

"I'll try to restrain myself."

"Don't." He's close now, close enough that you can see the flecks of gold in his green eyes, close enough to smell that sandalwood scent. 

"Alfie—"

"Get some sleep," he says, stepping back, that casual mask sliding back into place. "Big day tomorrow. More rats to find."

"More Batman to chase," you agree, unlocking your door.

"Yeah," he says, something unreadable in his voice. "Good luck with that."

You glance back, but he's already turning away, disappearing into his flat, the door clicking shut with a finality that makes you shiver.

Inside your apartment, you kick off your skirt and collapse onto your bed without bothering with the lights. Through the thin wall, you hear movement, drawers opening, the sound of something heavy being moved. You think about those bruises on his knuckles, the way he listens when you talk about Batman, the way he seemed to know exactly what to say.

But you're too tired to think deeply, and the wine is warm in your blood, and tomorrow you'll have to face Marcus and his impossible demands again.

You fall asleep to the sound of your neighbor moving silently through his flat, and somewhere in the city, sirens wail in the distance.

You don't see him leave at midnight, dressed in black, sliding into the shadows of London like he belongs there. You don't see the cape, or the mask, or the way he moves.

You will, though.

Eventually.

But for now, you're just an intern with sore feet and a crush on her mysterious neighbor, completely clueless that the story you've been chasing has been across the hall all along, listening to you complain, watching you with green eyes that see everything, waiting for the moment when the mask will have to come off, and the truth will finally come out.

And somewhere in the dark, Batman patrols the streets, thinking about your laugh, and your messy hair, and the way you looked at him like he was just a man.

Just Alfie.

Just your neighbor.

[cryloma]

crystal shops

authors note: thought this concept was kinda cute, crystals are very cool i might invest in some soon! double post, on a roll! x

warnings: none

alfie had been in the shop for exactly four minutes and already looked like he wanted to leave.

not in a dramatic way, not in an annoyed way either, he just had the expression of someone who’d accidentally wandered into a place where they weren’t welcome.

the place smelled aggressively of incense and there were shelves full of crystals with little handwritten signs underneath them explaining what each one apparently did.

“promotes emotional clarity,” he read quietly from beside you. “encourages spiritual healing.”

he picked up another card.

“helps release negative energy.”

you looked over your shoulder at him. “don’t start, alf.”

“i’m not saying anything, relax, darlin’. ”

“you’re about to.”

he put the card back down carefully.

“yeah cause a rock will know if i’m stressed.”, he mumbled to himself.

you laughed despite yourself and turned back to the shelf.

“you’re so closed minded.”

“i’m not closed minded, girl, i’m literally here aren’t i? if i was closed minded i’d still be sat in the car.”

you picked up a bracelet from one of the displays and held it out towards him.

“what about this one then?”

he looked at the little label attached.

“‘improves communication in relationships.’”

he raised an eyebrow.

“bit late for that now, angel.”

“unfortunately.”

a few minutes later you wandered over to another shelf and realised he’d gone quiet.

alfie was standing in front of a display by himself reading the labels with a level of concentration he absolutely hadn’t had five minutes ago.

you walked over beside him.

“thought none of this was real?”

he glanced at the card in his hand.

“apparently this one helps with sleep.”

“oh?”

“yeah.”

another pause.

“you’ve been sleeping bare terribly lately.”

you looked at him.

“don’t make it weird,” he said quickly, putting the crystal back down. “i’m just saying if the magic rock works then jobs done, girl.”

“and if it doesn’t?”

he shrugged.

“then we’ve lost twelve quid”.

[cryloma]

Can we get Alfies girl being the most dramatic person in the heat x

Also do you do anons? x

Hello! I did this here! I hope you like it! <3 x

Also I do! I haven’t made a list yet but feel free to choose one x

[cryloma]

heat exhaustion ©cryloma

authors note: been really inactive and this might be my last post until i have motivation as my cat has passed :( still feel free to send requests or whatever, i will get round them soon x

warnings: heat wave, dramatics ( not really, it’s understandable ), sweaty kissing ─ ꫂ᭪݁˚꩜⋆₊ alfie buttle

you always said you’d preferred summer over winter. but not this.

it was currently 35 degrees and you were melting.

you were lay on your bed in a starfish position, the quilt was chucked and abandoned on the floor and your fan was aiming directly at you. it was blowing hot air.

alfie had tried to enter your bedroom and bother you, but you had kicked him out three times. even if you did really love him, the heat made you agitated.

alfie, fed up of no company, came back in, “it’s my bedroom too, girl”, he smirked as he got comfy next to you.

you loudly groaned and cocked your head to the side, “you’re giving me your body heat, alf!”, you whined and pushed his arm of you.

“chill it with the dramatics, darlin’,”, he scoffed with a playful smile.

you rolled your eyes and he leaned down and connected your lips. you audibly gasped and pressed your hands on his sweaty shoulders to push him away.

he smiled and slipped his tongue in, knowing it was going to wind you up even more. you pulled away, strings of saliva conjoining your lips together.

“no!”.

“what’d you mean no?”, he frowned.

“i mean no, it’s too hot for that”, you grimaced and shook your head.

“you don’t want me anymore?”.

“you’re such a child, alf. and don’t act like you aren’t hot, i see the sweat dripping of you, i can smell it as well”, you smiled to yourself.

he swatted your arm and pressed a kiss on your forehead, “love you too, angel”

[w2sprincess]

Hes just so 💘💖💓💕

[kere-28]

DAMNNNNNNNNUHHHHHHH

[finchytv]

arthurtv x reader who makes them in the new tomadochi life game and ofc arthur’s mii immediately falls in love w/ readers mii

MII AND YOU

── ARTHUR FREDERICK ✶⋆.˚

summary: arthur interrupts your vlog about tomadachi life and asks you to make him in the game only for his mii to fall inlove with your mii straight away

content: fluff

notes: I acc want this game SO BAD!! I wanna make the ukyt lot the basterds n sansa stark (my brother said it’d look like a Fortnite lobby.) but my friends have made me in it and I’m with one of the Arthur’s in both worlds

The clip starts with you tucked up in bed, duvet pulled over your legs and your Switch balanced against your knees.

"Right," you tell the camera, turning it around. "I need to show you my Tomodachi Life island because I've become slightly obsessed."

The screen is immediately chaos.

Tiny Miis are wandering around. Someone's running laps outside the apartments. Someone else is having a crisis.

You zoom in on the tower.

"So this is my island."

The camera gets closer.

"I've got Liv."

You tap on Liv's apartment.

"Obviously."

Then another.

"Edward Cullen."

Another.

"Sabrina Carpenter."

Another.

"I think I've got, like, three different fictional murderers in here."

A pause.

"I don't know what that says about me."

The bedroom door opens.

You don't even look up.

"Hello."

A familiar figure appears before immediately throwing himself face-first onto the bed beside you.

Arthur groans dramatically into a pillow.

"What are you doing?"

"Tomodachi Life."

"What?"

You turn the Switch towards him.

"My island."

Arthur lifts his head.

The more he looks at it, the more curious he seems to become.

"Who's that?"

"Liv."

"And who's that?"

"Edward Cullen."

Arthur narrows his eyes.

"Have you made me?"

You stare at him.

Then at the camera.

Then back at the game.

Then back at him.

"Oh."

"What?"

"I haven't actually."

Arthur sits upright immediately.

"You haven't made me?"

"No."

"You've made Edward Cullen."

"Yes."

"You've made Liv."

"Yes."

"You've made Sabrina."

"Yes."

"You've made a vampire."

You laugh.

"Arthur,"

"You've made a fictional man."

"You are being incredibly dramatic."

"I'm not being dramatic."

He points dramatically at the Switch.

"You made Edward Cullen before your actual boyfriend."

"Well Edward Cullen doesn't complain this much."

The camera catches Arthur looking genuinely horrified.

"Wow."

You start laughing.

"Fine. We'll make you."

"Good."

Arthur scoots closer instantly.

"Make me handsome."

"You don't get to decide."

"It’s literally me though."

“Okay buddy.”

You open the Mii creator.

"Hair first."

"No, that's not my hair."

"It's close enough."

"It's not."

"It's pixel hair."

"It matters."

You let out a deep sigh before turning to the camera, “you lot see what I have to deal with.”

Ten minutes later you're still editing.

"No."

"Oh my god."

"My eyebrows aren't that thick."

"They literally are."

"They're not."

The viewers are forced to watch the two of you debate eyebrow accuracy for an embarrassing amount of time.

Eventually the Mii is finished.

You hold up the Switch.

"There. Arthur."

Arthur studies it.

"Hm."

"Hm?"

"The jawline could be stronger."

"It's a Mii."

"The jawline."

"It's a Mii."

Arthur finally nods.

"Okay. That's me."

You save him onto the island.

His apartment appears.

Arthur immediately looks at you.

"Can I meet you?"

"What?"

"In the game."

You laugh.

"You sound desperate."

"I am."

You tap around until both Miis are wandering the island.

"Look."

"Where?"

"There."

Your Mii is standing near the fountain.

Arthur's Mii exits a building.

The tiny characters start walking toward each other.

Arthur immediately sits forward.

"Oh my god."

"They've literally just met."

The Miis stop.

A little interaction bubble appears.

The two of them chat for a few seconds.

Then separate.

Arthur gasps.

"They spoke."

"They did."

"That's us."

"It's not us."

"It is."

You keep playing.

Arthur still looming over your shoulder.

A few minutes pass.

The camera is mostly focused on the game while you explain random island drama.

Then suddenly Arthur's apartment icon flashes.

You pause.

"Oh."

"What?"

"I think you've got a problem."

Arthur sits up.

"What?"

You enter his apartment.

His Mii is standing in the middle of the room looking flustered.

A pink thought bubble appears.

You and Arthur read the text at the exact same time.

'I think I'm in love with Reader.'

"NO WAY."

Arthur practically launches himself off the bed.

"NO WAY."

You start laughing so hard the camera shakes.

"It's been FIVE MINUTES."

Arthur is absolutely losing his mind.

"The game knows."

"The game doesn't know anything."

"The game knows."

"It's been like, five minutes!"

Arthur points triumphantly at the screen.

"My Mii saw your Mii and immediately fell in love."

You can barely speak.

"This is genuinely the funniest thing that's happened all week."

Arthur is already invested.

"What do we do?"

"We do nothing."

"No, no, no."

He points at the screen.

"We help him."

"Him?"

"Me."

"You are not him."

"I am him."

You stare at him.

Arthur stares back.

The Mii on-screen is still standing there dramatically in love.

You start laughing again.

"Why is digital Arthur exactly the same as real Arthur?"

"Because he's based on a winner."

"He's based on a freak."

“You take that back.”

The little Mii on the screen is still standing there looking hopelessly in love.

Arthur sighs.

"Look at him."

"I'm looking."

"He's struggling."

"He met me six minutes ago."

"He met the love of his life six minutes ago."

You snort.

"Oh my god."

Arthur is already sitting closer, shoulder pressed against yours as he watches the screen.

The camera catches both of you hunched over the Switch.

You tap out of the apartment and send the Mii back outside.

For a few moments nothing happens.

Arthur watches the screen.

You watch the screen.

The camera watches the two of you watching the screen.

"Boom."

Arthur points.

Your Mii is standing outside the fountain.

His Mii walks around the corner.

The tiny characters stop.

A speech bubble appears.

The two Miis start chatting.

Arthur immediately leans forward.

"There they are."

"They've found each other."

"How cute they're talking."

You grin.

"They do that."

"No but they're talking."

You laugh.

"They've spoken before."

Arthur ignores you.

The conversation lasts a few seconds.

The Miis smile.

Then they turn and walk away.

Arthur sighs dramatically.

"No!"

"What?"

"They should've kissed."

You nearly drop the Switch.

"What?"

"They should've kissed."

"They've had one conversation."

"Okay…?"

"That's not how relationships work."

Arthur points at the screen.

"It is in my heart."

You laugh so hard the camera shakes.

"You're ridiculous."

"I'm invested now."

"Clearly."

A few minutes later you're showing the vlog another part of the island.

"Edward Cullen's been in three arguments today."

"No shock there."

"Arthur."

"I'm just saying."

You open another apartment.

Liv's Mii is apparently hungry.

Arthur doesn't care.

"Go back."

"What?"

"Check on me."

You stare at him.

"You?"

"The Mii."

"Oh my days you're actually unbelievable."

You click on his apartment.

His Mii is pacing around the room.

A thought bubble appears.

Arthur immediately grabs your wrist.

"What does it say?"

You read it aloud.

"'I'd like to be friends with Reader.'"

Arthur freezes.

Then slowly turns towards you.

"Friends?"

The look of betrayal on his face is so genuine.

"Friends?"

"It's not me that said it."

"Friends?"

You can barely breathe.

"The man's in love."

"The man's confused."

Arthur points accusingly at the Mii.

"You've fumbled."

The game asks if you'd like to help.

Arthur immediately sits up straighter.

"Yes."

"We don't even know what he's going to say."

"Yes."

You click the option.

A little cutscene starts.

The two Miis meet near the fountain.

Arthur watches with the intensity of someone watching a penalty shootout.

The friendship works.

The game announces they're now friends.

Arthur throws his head back.

"Right."

"What?"

"Now we're getting somewhere."

You stare.

"Somewhere?"

"We've built a foundation."

You laugh.

"A foundation?"

"Relationships are important, Reader."

"You're talking about Miis."

"I'm talking about love."

You nearly fall off the bed.

The next half hour of the vlog is basically just the two of you checking on the island every thirty seconds.

Most of the residents are having completely normal problems.

They're hungry.

They need new clothes.

They're having arguments.

Meanwhile Arthur's Mii seems to have one concern and one concern only.

You.

Every time his apartment lights up Arthur sits upright.

"Oh."

"No."

"Oh."

"No."

You open it anyway.

His Mii is standing there with another pink thought bubble.

Arthur practically climbs over your shoulder.

You read the text.

"'What do you think Reader thinks about me?'"

The room goes silent.

Then Arthur slowly lifts his head to the camera.

"You see?"

"What?"

"The game knows."

"The game doesn't know anything."

"It knows everything."

His Mii has known your Mii for less than an hour and has already become obsessed.

Somehow that feels familiar.

"You know what's really concerning?" you say.

"What?"

"Your Mii is exactly like you."

Arthur grins.

"Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment."

"I'll take it anyway."

taglist - @dwrites20 @chrismmmd @franklyoceanics @wroetofinchy @aanyam123 @zo-zo4 @smzyyx @willows-kiss @fayenotwebster @georgesclarkey @narcejars message/comment to join!

[enfermizada]

Skipping the storyline and going straight into the fucking part..

[buttlesbunnie]

MY HERO ── a.buttle ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

summary: a stranger comes to your rescue during an awful encounter with another man

content: sexual harassment (not by alfie) , swearing , mentions of a break up & cheating , angst w/ comfort

notes: i really don’t like this lmfao but dee thinks it’s alright and i need to post something so here we are

TODAY HAD TO be the worst day in history — well, for you, anyway. Just a week ago, you’d found out that your boyfriend of two years had been seeing another girl for four, which technically made you the other woman. Upon confronting him about it, he flipped the entire thing around onto you, ultimately ending the break up under the guise of ‘knowing you were seeing multiple other men’.

You were emotionally exhausted, sitting on the train by yourself with a pathetic meal deal in front of you that wasn’t even that appealing anymore.

It was late, like sundown moon out kind of late, and the train was barely occupied, just you and another guy in the compartment.

He was visibly tall and muscular, a cap on his head and his nose buried into his phone. You weren’t glancing at him too much, trying not to appear like a total freak, but he was very attractive. He had facial hair framing his mouth that looked rough and coarse, and his hand smothered his phone.

You took the same approach that he did, using your device as a distraction. However, every time you went on it, you were reminded of your just-turned ex.

Old snap memories from a year ago, Instagram highlights, old wallpapers that you had saved to your phone, ancient text messages from your parents about whether he was coming for tea.

It made tears well in your eyes, and you let out a little wet sniffle, wiping them as they fell and leaving your phone face down, resting your head on the window.

That was a bad call.

You should’ve kept your phone open, so you had an excuse to ignore the weird man that had added himself to the carriage with you and the other passenger, but you hadn’t.

His posture was awful, and he reeked of must and other unpleasantries.

The entire carriage was empty, apart from the table opposite you, of course, and he still decided to sit next to you.

You shut your eyes, trying to focus on the music blaring in your ears, but his presence lingered like a bad omen.

You could feel him fidgeting next to you, like he had an unstoppable itch. It made you uncomfortable, because you could never predict his next move.

His voice carried, appearing over the noise of your music.

He was talking to you, but you were ignoring him.

“Oi!” He exclaimed, two fingers touching the side of your head and knocking it to the side.

Eyes shooting open, you clutched everything tighter to yourself; your phone, your airpod case, the jacket wrapped around you.

Your eyes were wide with panic and fear, and you slowly removed one airpod, not wanting him to react physically again.

“What? Sorry, I couldn’t hear you.” You tried being polite, your voice small and meek.

“‘Coz you’ve got your headphones in you daft bint!” He laughed obnoxiously, “Wanna give me your number?”

“Um …”

Your eyes darted around, catching sight of the other man across the aisle.

He still had his eyes trained on his phone, headphones on too, but you could tell he wasn’t really listening to anything. Like he’d turned his music down to hear the commotion without truly acknowledging it.

He was alert and aware, but not engaged.

“No, I have a boyfriend, sorry.”

“Oh, so what? You prudish? Come onnnn.” He groaned. “Wanna go bathroom?”

“No, thank you.”

“No? Why fucking not?”

“Wh— I— I just said, I have a boyfriend.” You spluttered, feeling tears burn in your eyes from fear, your hands trembling on the table in front of you.

“Like you girls care. All you lot always going out.” He laughed, reaching a hand out and grazing a finger under your chin.

“Please don’t.” You curled in on yourself.

“Oi, mate.” The man across the aisle finally spoke up, “Leave her alone, yeah?”

The relief that flooded your body was insurmountable.

“What? Who are you?”

“Does it matter? Just leave her alone. She clearly doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“You’ve got some right cheek talking to me like that, why don’t you fuck off?” The creep's voice was beginning to increase in volume, and someone at the complete other end of the carriage had gotten up and disappeared through the sliding doors.

“Nah, come on, get up.” He slid out of his own chairs, gesturing for the man to stand and leave, “You’re making her uncomfortable. Go.”

“Bro, she clearly wants it.”

“No, she doesn’t. Get up. Leave.”

“What’s your name? What’s your name?”

“Alfie?”

“Alfie, yeah? Fuck off.” He suddenly swung an arm over your shoulders, making you writhe in an attempt to get him off of you, “Trynna enjoy—“

You weren’t expecting Alfie to react physically, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t relieved when he latched his hands around the fellas jacket and yanked him off of his seat.

It did startle you, but you settled fairly quickly when it clicked to you that the man’s stale existence had gotten further away from you.

“Get out.” Alfie sneered, pushing the man away.

“Do you wanna fucking go?!” He shouted, causing an entire scene.

Alfie stayed pointing to the train doors. The outside world was slowly coming to a halt as the train prepared for pulling into the station.

He was quick to grab his belongings and put them in the overhead space next to your suitcase and sit down in the seat next to you.

“Oh, I get it.” The tramp began cackling, “You wanna have a go too? That’s fine, leave some for me after, mate.”

Your skin crawled at the objectifying, disgusting manner in which he spoke about you as if you weren’t right there. Or maybe that’s why he was saying it, because he knew you were right there.

“Seriously, shut the fuck up and fuck off.” Alfie snapped, his patience wearing thin.

He was a large man in stature and presence. Now that he was speaking and not taking up a singular seat in the carriage, his occupancy was blatant and loud, fighting against the obnoxious behaviour of another male.

Thankfully, the person that had left the carriage previously, had returned with a train conductor and security officer, who began to take control of the situation, and escort the man off of the train when it finally came to a stop.

You witnessed him being put in cuffs out of the window. He was still shouting and kicking as he went, throwing degrading phrases in your direction, and even going as far to spit at the window.

You flinched, like it could magically get through the glass and land on you.

“Hey, you okay?” Alfie then asked, drawing your attention away from the outside world and the peace that had now settled in the carriage.

“Yeah, um, thanks.” You smiled, your voice breaking from emotion, “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“It’s alright.” He shook his head, “He was a fucking creep. I’d be a little upset too.” He smiled, trying to add some lightness to the situation.

“Well, thanks for, yknow …”

“Obviously. I weren’t gonna let him treat you like that.” Alfie said, “… Do you want me to stay here? Or I can move back?”

“Oh, no, you’re okay here if you want.” You shook your head, “Don’t feel like you have to move because of me.”

“I just … didn’t wanna make you feel any worse.” He shrugged, settling into the seat beside you. “What’s your name?”

“Reader.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Alfie, but—“

“Yeah, I know.”

“Cool.” He clicked his tongue, nodding and hesitating to speak before committing to it, “Are you okay? Like, before this all happened? You were crying already.”

“Oh, um, yeah … My boyfriend broke up with me today so I’m going back up to stay with my parents for a bit.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He frowned, “That sucks. Um … his loss?”

“Yeah, I guess.” You shrugged.

“Well, you are stunning, so it is his loss.”

You blinked at him for a moment, stunned by his words, and the blunt, forward nature he’d said them in.

“Shit, sorry.” His cheeks went bright red, “I didn’t mean to come across like that.”

You smiled softly, a little flushed yourself, “It’s okay. You’re not too bad yourself.”

“Yeah?” He grinned, displaying his sharp fangs for canines, “Cheers, girl.”

You continued to share cheeky, shy smiles with each other for the rest of the journey until you had to get off a couple stops before.

“Do you want my Instagram?” He blurted out suddenly.

You paused, turning back around to him, “Sorry?”

“My Instagram. Do … Do you want it? It’s no worries if not, really, I just thought I’d shoot my shot—“

“Yeah, go on then.” You nodded, handing him your phone.

Thankfully, he finished up just in time for you to step off the train, waving bye to him through the window before glancing down at your phone.

Alfie Buttle.

Jesus, he had quit the following already. And he was verified?

You got a notification of him following you back, and sending a swift message.

alfiebuttle: let us know when you get back x

yourusername: okay x

A large grin spread across your face before you shut the screen off and made your way out of the station.

[cryloma]

Wowza

[smzyyx]

can you make an alfie fic🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

Hey girl I actually really REALLY hate ab so I do not write for him 😭😭

But ik that there are other very talented writers who do, @buttlesbunnie @cryloma @honeytot @buttlesangel @macsangel @georgesclarkey and more that I can’t think of of the top of my head

Feel free to ask them 💕

[smzyyx]

A Day At The Seaside

Arthur Frederick x reader - fluff

a/n - Got me giggling to myself and shit (exams in a week btw, im fucked)

Dad!Arthur

also I'd say that Anjali is like 3 in this, I hope I captured the way that 3 year olds talk

masterlist

c/w - children?? idrk😭 it is hella fluffy tho

Anjali had been asking about the beach since six forty-five in the morning, which was when she'd appeared at your bedroom door in her pyjamas, holding a plastic spade and announced, "we go beach today!"

Arthur had tried to reason with her about how it was too early but she somehow climbed onto the bed and walked on top of both of you without acknowledging a single word he'd said.

She sat between your heads and repeated herself, and honestly it was too early to use energy and convince her and you both had been wanting do do a day trip anyway.

You were in the car by half eight with a couple bags in the boot and Anjali in the back seat giving her stuffed sea turtle Biscuit, that Arthur bought for her from the Natural History Museum, a full briefing on what to expect, her little voice going the entire journey while you and Arthur sat in the front in a comfortable, warm, slightly-sleep-deprived way.

His hand finding yours in the center without either of you thinking about it.

—

The beach was surprisingly very pleasent. Warm and golden and not too busy, with good sand and the sea glittering in the distance.

The moment Anjali's feet touched the sand she was off, running towards the beach with everything she had, which frankly was not a lot considering that she was tiny.

Her spade was swinging wildly, her yellow sun hat was slightly askew, and she giggled and looked back to see if anyone was following her.

Arthur was after her immediately because she had absolutely no sense of safety and the water was freezing. He caught her around the middle, scooped her up, and she laughed very loudly, kicked her legs against the air and went: "Daddy put me down!"

He explained as best as he could why she couldn't go in the water yet, and then there was a pause, a real considering pause.

"Then what we play daddy?" She asked looking up at him with her big dark eyes, her arm somehow covered in sand.

Arthur smiled and took her spade out of her hand, "Well we could make a sandcastle, so the crabs can live in it!"

She paused again and considered this, "Big one?"

Arthur tried to hold back a laugh, "A Massive one, with lots of pretty shells!"

Anjali giggled at the way his hands spread out to emulate how big the sandcastle would be and turned around to face you, who was now setting out the blanket, "Mummy make sandcastle please?"

You smiled at this, "Let me set up the bags, then I will come and help you and daddy okay baby?"

She was extraordinary at sandcastles for a three-year-old, which was a biased opinion, but you stood by it.

She had very clear opinions about the number of towers — four, and then when Arthur had carefully helped to construct four she walked around it and assessed it, holding a bucket full of shells which you helped to collect.

She placed a few shells on each tower with a surprisingly careful manner, humming to herself, which was very adorable to watch until one of the towers accidentally collapsed — there was a very harrowing pause.

She turned around, two more shells left in her buckets and had an exaggerated frown on her face, "Mummy, daddy is bad at sandcastles.

Arthur's face screwed into outrage at this comment causing Anjali to just giggle and grab his nose.

She decided to rebuild the tower by herself this time because "Daddy is silly" and filled the bucket herself, tongue out with concentration, and upturned it with such cadence that when it held its shape she gasped like it was a miracle she hadn't seen coming.

"MUMMY LOOK, DADDY LOOK," she said, with equal urgency each time, pointing at it to make sure you were seeing the right thing.

You both looked and said it was brilliant every time and meant it every time because watching her face was genuinely brilliant.

Arthur pressed shells into the sides of the towers and told her that's what they did in castles a long time ago, used whatever they found nearby.

So Anjali picked up a piece of seaweed and looked at it very seriously and tried to put that in too, he helped her find a spot for it and the castle was honestly the best one you'd ever seen.

The sea, when you finally got there, was cold and not clear blue in a very British way.

As Anjali stepped into the edge of the water she screamed at the temperature but then waded further in immediately because she was completely fearless about things that probably should have given her pause.

Arthur got her under the arms and lifted before he got in any deeper.

He held her over an incoming wave and the noise she made was so purely delighted that a couple further down the beach looked over and smiled.

He kept lifting her, again and again, arms not complaining once, and she kept demanding it again and again the moment she landed.

Then at one point he spun her — picked her up and spun her with her arms out and her head thrown back, she laughed so hard she could barely breathe. You waded in beside them and she pointed at you with immediate authority, and then it was all three of you.

Anjali began throwing handfuls of water at both of you with no particular aim, and you splashed her back which she found outrageous for exactly half a second before she launched the biggest two-handed splash she could manage back at you.

She then turned and did the same to Arthur.

Arthur put on the most exaggerated, annoyed face ever and then splashed her back.

A bit later on, Arthur, because he could never fully switch off the part of his brain that found everything interesting, started telling her things while you stood in the shallows. About how the waves worked, how the wind out at sea pushed the water and it travelled all the way to the beach, how the tide came in and out because of the moon pulling on the water.

Anjali listened with her brow furrowed like she was doing serious buisness, standing in the water with her hand in his, looking out at the horizon like she was trying to see where the waves started.

"The moon pulls it?" she said. "Like magnets?"

"Yes, actually exactly like a magnet, brilliant Anj", the pride on his face when she said that was something you had to look away from slightly because it was too sweet.

As they got out of the water, Anjali spotted a jellyfish.

She found it on the wet sand at the water's edge, stranded there, translucent and still, and she went over to look at it with the fearless curiosity she brought to everything.

She then immediately turned and came back to you both at speed, which wasn't something she did often. "Mummy, daddy," she said, very serious, taking your hands and pulling, "there is a creature." You let her lead you and Arthur over and there it was.

A small moon jellyfish, pale and luminous on the sand, very much out of the water it needed to be in.

"That's a jellyfish Anju," Arthur said, crouching down to her level.

Anjali looked slighlty offended, "I know a jellyfish."

She looked at it again with her brow furrowed. "It lives with fishies," she said.

"Yeah," Arthur replied, trying not to combust at hoe adorable and intelligent his daughter was.

"Why it not in the sea daddy?" she asked, looking up at him with a very intense concentration.

Arthur explained that sometimes they got washed up on the beach by the waves and got stranded,

Anjali looked at the jellyfish for a long moment and then looked up at Arthur with an expression of absolute resolution. "We must help it," she said. "It needs to go home."

Arthur looked at you. You looked at Arthur. "Rescue mission," you said, and he nodded like this was a perfectly normal thing to be doing, which with Anjali it was.

He found a big flat shell from further up the beach and explained to Anjali that they couldn't touch it with their hands because jellyfish could sting even when they weren't in the water.

Anjali listened very carefully and held her hands behind her back the whole time to be safe, which was the most responsible she'd ever been about anything.

Very gently, Arthur scooped the jellyfish onto the shell and Anjali stood close watching every move, saying "careful, careful, careful" under her breath, and you all walked together to where the waves were coming in and he lowered the shell to the water and let the jellyfish float off.

It drifted back into the sea returning to where it was supposed to be.

Anjali watched until she couldn't see it anymore, shielding her eyes against the sun. "Bye jellyfish," she said, very softly. Then she looked up at you both, satisfied. "It home now."

—

Fish and chips was always the plan and Anjali had known this since before you'd left the house, which meant the entire walk up from the beach she was vibrating slightly, holding both your hands and swinging between you and counting "one, two, free, one, two, FREE".

She ate her first chip with enormous seriousness, "yummy chips!"

You were all sitting on the blanket with the sea glittering at the bottom of the hill, everything smelt of salt and vinegar.

Everything was good until a seagull landed a foot from Anjali's tray that was placed next to her, and locked eyes with her.

Before you could say anything it had taken a chip and was back in the air.

The look on Anjali's face passed through shock, comprehension, and pure outrage in about two seconds, and then she blew the most extended, raspberry directly at the retreating seagull, pointing up at it with one finger, cheeks puffed out with the effort of it.

"He TOOK my chip," she said, turning to you, deadly serious. You told her that was very rude of him. She agreed it was very rude, and then turned back to blow another raspberry at the sky as a final statement on the matter.

Arthur had tears running down his face from the effort of not laughing, and you weren't doing much better, Anjali ate the rest of her chips with one eye on the sky for the rest of the meal.

You changed her on the beach afterwards into a dry, clean frock, her hair curling at the ends from the salt water, cheeks pink, and she looked so perfectly herself that it was almost hard to look at directly.

She decided she wanted to jump over the waves at the water's edge while you and Arthur sat back on the blanket together, his arm around you, watching her. Every wash of shallow water that came in she'd track carefully, wait for her moment, and jump with both feet, landing with a splat and immediately spinning around to check your scores.

Arthur called out nine and you called ten and she looked between you and decided you were both right and turned back to wait for the next one.

She sang while she waited — a song of her own invention, tuneless and completely confident, about chips and the jellyfish going home and Biscuit the whale and seagull who was rude.

The sun was getting low and a golden sheen coated the air.

Arthur pressed a kiss to your temple and you leaned into him, neither of you said anything because there wasn't really anything that needed to be said.

Anjali jumped a particularly good wave, landed it, spun around with her arms out. "DID YOU SEE," she shouted.

"Ten out of ten," Arthur called back, without hesitation.

She pointed at you. "Very amazing! Ten," you confirmed.

She turned back to the sea, planted her feet, absolutely delighted with herself, the hem of her dress dripping, her hair wild and the whole beach golden around her.

a/n - like and comments and reblogs are very appreciated <3 lmk if u wanna be on the taglist

taglist: @whisperturnedecho @forchencookie @willnees @pretendyoucantseeme @tyna-19 @canyouseethesainz @roc-haze @wherethezoes-at @cheekytv @beauty-nd-the-geek @dopeysunflowers @formulaal @pookietv @happyclifford @sapphiccaa @rubi-radio @madsclarkey @sturnl0ve @norrizzandpia @thankyoulovely @williamlenneys @ghostlyracoon @lostdeerinthemist @majknn @aanyam123 @ghostedindigo @wroetofinchy @finchytv @fayenotwebster @narcejars

[buttlesangel]

i am drunk and i need alfie buttle to fuck my pussy

thanks

[wr2shw]

hello angel

description: harry gets his wisdom tooth removed and think he’s in heaven when he sees you

pairing: harry lewis (w2s) x fem!reader

genre: fluff

your husband has been complaining about a very intense toothache for a week now, you have told him multiple times that he should go to the dentist to get it fixed but he keeps on postponing it.

“here you go, haz.” you say, placing a plate of eggs and toast in front of him. he stares at the breakfast in front of and then looks up and give you a tight smile. “is something wrong? did i undercook the eggs again?”

“no.” he says his voice small, you frown and give him a confused look. “the toothache is unbearable.”

“aww harry, i told you to go to the dentist.” you tell him, “are you scared to go?”

“what? no.” the answer came way too quick. you cross your arms over your chest and raise an eyebrow at him. “i just don’t want to go alone.”

“oh well i can come with you.” you tell him, “i mean someone would have to drive you back home. i will book an appointment for today.”

___

you decide to call ethan with you, just in case you need help carrying harry. you, harry and ethan take a car to the dentist clinic. "hi, i have an appointment under the name harry lewis." harry asks the receptionist.

"hello, mr. lewis, dr. green is ready for you, if you would follow me." she tells him, before leaving he turns to you and ethan and give you guys a nervous smile, ethan gives him two thumbs up and you give him a big smile.

"right, i am keeping my camera ready." ethan announces as he gets his camera out.

"for what?" you question him, frowning.

"for when he gets high and start syaing stupid shit." ethan explains, smiling to himself, preparing to see something very assuming. you shake your head and smile softly.

it takes 2 hours for harry to final come out of the surgery, you and ethan make your way to his room, ethan already recording. you greet his doctor and ethan makes his way towards harry. the doctor tells you his surgery went well and gives you instructions regarding his aftercare.

while you are speaking the doctor, ethan starts talking to harry. "harry, mate, how are you feeling." ethan asks him.

"effannn." harry slurs, streching ethan's name. "i am sof fine." he continues, his words muffled because of the cotton in mouth. "how are you, mate?"

"i am good, i am good." ethan says, laughing at him.

after talking to the doctor, you make your way to the duo. you stand beside ethan and smile at harry. as soon as harry looks at you, his eyes widen and he gapes at you, his mouth slightly open. you give him a loving smile and say, "hey, haz." you give him a little wave.

harry quickly shifts his gaze from you to ethan, he motions ethan to come closer, "she is so pretty, does she know me?" harry 'whispers' in ethan's ear, making you laugh.

"yeah, mate, she knows you very well." ethan tells him, giggling.

harry looks at you and motions you to come closer, you way your way to other side of the bed and sit on the edge of his bed. "you are really pretty." he tells you, his voice filled with genuine adoration.

"aww, thanks, harry, you are pretty too." you say smiling at him.

"not as pretty as you, never as pretty as you." he says, his hand finding his way to your hand. "you are married?" he asks, when he feels your ring.

"yeah, i am." you say, laughing lightly.

"lucky bastard." he murmurs under his breath, angerily. "do you like him?"

"i actually love him." you tell him, trying your hardest to sound serious.

harry's lips morph into a pout. "when he dies, will you marry me?" he asks, making both you and ethan laugh. "what? you are literally an angel, i am very sure your husband prayed to all the gods in the universe to marry you."

"that's really sweet of you but i don't want him to die, i love him too much." you tell him, his frown deepening.

"can you kiss me?" he asks you, giving you his best puppy eyes. you giggle before leaning in and giving him a soft peck on the lips. "wow." he sighs.

"you like it, haz?" you ask him and he nods vigorously, you lean in and give him another peck.

"fuck, your husband might be the luckiest person alive." he says, jealously very evident in his voice.

you laugh to yourself and decide to put your husband out of his misery and tell him, "haz, you are my husband."

he stares at you like you have just told him that chelsea's won the premier league then he turns to ethan. "i am married to an angel?!" he asks, not believing you at all.

ethan, who is currently wheezing because he somehow finds this very funny, tells him, "yeah, mate, you are married to y/n."

"y/n." harry says your name like it's a prayer. "it's a beautiful name for a beautiful face, y/n." you just smile and lean down to kiss him again. "if you keep kissing me, i will faint, this is the best moment of my entire life." he tells you, making both you and ethan laugh.

you guys finally go home after 30 minutes, the anesthesia slowly wear off over the period of 2 hours. "you feeling better now?" you ask him, and he nods. "good, let me know if you need anything, and finish your soup because you cannot have solid food for another 2 days."

"2 days?!" harry asks and sighs before taking a sip of his soup. "did i do something stupid while i was high?"

you giggle before answering, "ethan's got a whole video that he promises to post on sidemen intagram, so you should brace yourself for that."

he runs a hand through his hair and says, "oh no, oh on, i said something stupid, didn't i?"

"a few things." you say and you both laugh.

he wraps an arm around you and pulls you in for a cuddle, "thank you for everything." he whispers.

"i don't mind taking you to the doc, harry." you tell him, rolling your eyes slightly.

"no, not that, thank you for existing and thank you for being with me. i love you." he says, kissing your forehead.

"stop." you say, tears forming in your eyes, "i love you so much."

[cryloma]

FEEL GOOD

─ ꫂ᭪݁˚꩜⋆₊ will lenney ཀ།† ꒰ㅤㅤ requests / open ꒱

authors note: i feel like i’m on a role! i also feel like i only write smut :/ it’s okay thought because we can all be freaks together! currently watching outer banks again, feel like writing for rafe but i probably wouldn’t do him any justice, but happy reading everyone!

summary: you were always insecure about your stretch marks, until you started dating will. he made it obvious how much he loved them. . . in multiple ways. . .

warnings: insecurities ( stretch marks ), beauty standards, slight angst, oral ( f!receiving ), p in v, unprotected sex ( oops! ), cumming in pants, spitting. ᭄ 18 + mdni ੭

growing up was hard, especially with all of the beauty standards. unfortunately, you were one of the people who gained and lost weight all the time. nothing was ever steady.

with this, deep purple stretch marks developed pretty much everywhere. on the inside of your thighs, your hips, even some faint ones around your breasts.

being intimate was a struggle, you knew what men wanted. a perfect body.

in your eyes, you were never perfect.

until you met will.

he would get on his knees for you, he loved every inch of you, and made it known.

will’s got you pinned on the bed, thighs spread, his hoodie shoved up to your chin. you’re trying to hide, hands tugging the fabric down to cover the stretch marks on your hips and belly, silvery lines you’ve always hated.

“stop,” you mumble, cheeks burning, looking away. “they’re gross.” his eyes narrow and intense, and he pulls your hands away, pinning them above your head.

“gross?” he snaps, almost angry. “these?” he traces the marks on your hip, fingers rough, claiming. “baby, i’m fucking obsessed.”

you squirm, doubtful, but he slides down, kissing a line across your belly, lips lingering on each mark.

“gonna show you how much i love ‘em,” he mutters, tugging your panties slow, dragging them down your thighs, eyes locked on the stretch marks like they’re art.

“will,” you whisper, nervous, but he’s already kissing your hips, tongue flicking over a mark, then another on your thigh, biting softly.

“these are mine,” he says, voice low, hands gripping your hips, thumbs rubbing the marks. he dives in, tongue lapping at your folds, slow at first, then deeper, plunging into you, nose brushing your clit.

you gasp, hips bucking, and he groans against you, the vibration making you moan.

he’s relentless, sucking your clit, licking every inch, his hands never leaving your stretch marks, stroking them like they’re sacred.

“taste so fucking good,” he mumbles, tongue circling, and you’re shaking, pleasure building fast. watching you writhe, your moans loud and needy, gets him hard, cock throbbing in his sweats, leaking through the fabric.

“love seeing you like this,” he pants, lips on a mark, then back to your pussy, eating you like he’s starved.

you’re close, trembling, and he doubles down, tongue fast, hands pressing your thighs wider, thumbs on your marks. “come for me,” he growls, and you do, hard, crying out, body shaking as you drench his face.

he moans, louder than you, and you realize he’s cumming too, untouched, soaking his sweats just from watching you.

he kisses your thigh, then your belly, soft on a mark. “still think they’re gross?” he teases, grabbing a cloth to clean you, pulling you close.

“fuck, you made me blow my load in my pants.” he grins, winking, and you laugh, insecurity gone, melting into his arms, loved completely.

“you think you can take another one, pet?”, he traces your jaw gently, looking at you with pure lust in his eyes.

you can feel yourself getting even wetter than before, if that we even possible. he just made you feel so good. you slowly nod your head, “yes”.

that’s all will needs before he lays you flat on your back again.

your heart was racing, this wasn’t a new thing, but every time he fucked you ruthless and made it worth your while.

he pulled down his joggers and revealed he had no boxers on. his hard dick sprung on, pre-cum leaking from the tip. “you see what you do to me, angel?”, he carefully palms himself.

you spread your legs for him again, giving him the best view of your glistening core, you was aching for him. it only gave him the ego boost which he didn’t need.

will was still stroking himself before leaning over you, “i’m gonna fuck you through the mattress”, he whispers in your ear before peppering kisses along your jaw. quickly, he finds your sweet spot, sucking extra hard. he was definitely leaving marks.

you whimpered out a moan and tugged his hair, “please”.

will smiled in the crook of your neck before lining himself up at your entrance, “yeah? gonna make you feel reallll good, pet”.

in one smooth thrust, he had your back arching.

you let out a breathy moan and will squeezed your hips, “i never want you to utter a bad fucking word about yourself”, he pounds into you while tracing the lines that haunt you.

he leans down and connects your lips passionately, still thrusting into you hard. your mouth is still letting out whines and pleas, begging him to go faster.

will picks up on this and flips you over, you on your stomach, ass up in the air. he lands a harsh smack on your ass cheek before smoothly picking up his pace.

he grunts as he gets close, “gonna let me come in you, angel? fill you up good?”, he pants.

you feel the familiar knock tying in your stomach, “f-fuck! yes!”, you cry out. “come for me”, will commands and releases inside of you at the same time.

he slows down his pace and pulls out, careful not to hurt you.

you turn over onto your back, a small smile on your exhausted face, “what are you smiling at, pillow princess”, he huffs out a laugh and places a sloppy kiss on your forehead.

[yoooofamily]

𝓕𝓪𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓨/𝓝 𝓕𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮 𝓗𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓢𝓮𝓮𝓴

Summary - You and Faith are invited to participate in Sidemen Hide and Seek and it turns into the Y/N and Faith show.

Based on this request

Also might continue this dynamic with Faith for a series kinda thing for AB's girl

Pairing - Alfie Buttle x Reader + Faith Kelly Payne x Reader (Platonic/Big Sister!Faith)

Warnings - One mention of a shitty ex.

Word Count - 2k

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

Since Alfie had become more and more involved with the UK YouTube scene and subsequently moved to London, you had too. When Alfie’s channel began taking off, he’d encouraged you to post more too, you ended up being more on TikTok than YouTube, but the both of you had so many amazing experiences thanks to it. Holidays to some of the most beautiful places, being included in some of the biggest videos with the Sidemen, the Fellas etc. 

Since then, you’d also met a lot of the girls, and Faith had really become that older sister to you. She’d taken you under her wing when you started spending more time in London, even more so when you moved into the penthouse with Alfie. You’d have nights out, lunch dates, girly sleepovers where Ethan got booted into the guest room and you’d watch the classics, Angus, Thongs and Perfect Snogging, Wild Child, Mean Girls, Legally Blonde and the likes. 

Today you were taking part in a Sidemen Hide and Seek video, this time at Faith and Ethan’s house. Obviously she knew all the best places to hide, and you’d planned everything beforehand. You were winning this, and the 10k prize fund. You both had planned to split it and spend it on a girly holiday to Greece to live out your Mamma Mia fantasy. 

Today, Ethan would start out as the seeker, every person he found would be able to look around and give Ethan hints on where others were. There were a few rooms off limits to the hiders, Olive’s room obviously and Ethan and Faith’s. 

What Ethan, and the other Sidemen, didn’t account for was Faith finding a loop hole. Since Faith and Ethan bought their home they’d had a bit of work done on it, one thing was the little box room being converted into a walk-in wardrobe. The wall had been knocked in, a door added and the ten by eight feet room had been made into a wardrobe, perfect hiding place. 

-

The group was standing out in the garden while Ethan does the intro to the video. 

“You hiding with me then, girl?” Alfie asks, arm draped over your shoulders. 

“Er, no? Faith, obviously.” You deadpan, winding him up. 

“Actually? You’re ditching me for Faith?” 

“Yeah? She’s my wifey, we’ve got a plan, ya know,” you shrug, “we’re winning this one, babe.” 

Alfie looks at you, genuinely offended you’re ditching him to work with Faith. “You’re not even going to work with me and win us 10k? Imagine the holiday we could do with 10k!” 

“Exactly,” Faith grins, pushing Alfie’s arm off your shoulder and pulling you into her side, “when we win, we’re going to Greece. No boys, just us girls, right, babe?” 

“You got it dude.” 

“Nah, what? Ethan, your Mrs is nicking my bird! That’s not allowed. Surely that’s in the rules somewhere. Sidemen bible or some shit.” 

“Them two are getting found first, mate,” Ethan laughs, “I got kicked out of my own bed last weekend so they could watch Angus, Thongs, and Perfect Snogging. I’m getting my revenge, brother.” 

-

As soon as Ethan shouted go, you and Faith had run around to the front of the house, throwing everyone off. You’d kicked your shoes off at the door - shoes off always - and hid them behind the cubby where Olive’s shoes and jacket are hanging up. No evidence left. 

The whole set up is unreal. Faith’s things on one side, Ethan’s on the other, a big mirror on the wall between with LED lights, perfect for a full outfit check. It looks like something on Pinterest. 

“I’m actually so jealous,” you say, the two of you sitting with your backs on the mirror, Go-Pros set up on the floor in front of you. “This is like your own version of Hannah Montana’s closet. Alfie’s getting told I want one of these when we decide to buy an actual house.” 

“I feel like a proud mum when I think about you and AB doing grown up stuff, like when Olive learns something new or goes pee in the toilet.” 

That causes the two of you to fall into a fit of laughter, comparing you and Alfie’s milestones to her three year old going to the toilet. 

The sound of footsteps outside the room has the two of you silent immediately, Ethan narrating to the Go-Pro in his hands. But as always, when you’re not supposed to laugh everything just becomes so much funnier. 

You pull the neckline of your hoodie up over your mouth, shoulder shaking as you try not to laugh out loud, but Faith keeps looking at you and it’s making it worse. Ethan is right outside the door, telling the camera how no one better be in his room since it was off limits. 

-

It feels like hours you’re sitting in the wardrobe, so you do what most girls would do, you look through Faith’s clothes. 

You end up trying on a dress she has hanging up (hiding the Go-Pro when you were changing), one she’d worn to a Sidemen party at the beginning of the year. It’s a stunning pale blue, just under the knee, tight in all the right places. It’d look unreal with strappy heels and accessories. 

“Can I borrow this for Alfie’s birthday dinner in a few months?” You ask, turning and checking yourself out in the mirror, basically giving the camera a fashion show. 

“Have it, babe.” She replies simply. 

“Oh, no, I can’t just have it. I’ll get it dry cleaned and give you it back.” 

“You’re not taking it, don’t be silly. I’m giving you it.” She sounds like your mum when she says that. “Plus, it looks absolutely gorg on you.” 

-

A bit more time passes, more people being found, more of them looking for you and Faith. 

“We’ve decided we’re starting a podcast. The Big Sister podcast.” Faith narrates to the camera. “I’ve been like Y/N’s big sister since she started coming to London, and I think we’ve got expert knowledge on everything girls need.” 

“Boys, periods, body positivity, not listening to shitty people online,” you list off, “not listening to shitty people in general, actually.” 

-

“Right, Ethan’s obviously ginger, yeah?” You start your point, only for Faith to snort a laugh and nod her head. “So, Alfie’s got a couple moles on his back and shoulder and that, right? I swear. To. God. I need to act like that boy’s mum on holiday.” 

Faith just listens to you rant in your faux podcast segment. 

“And I’m like ‘Alf, you need more SPF, babe.’ and he’ll go ‘yeah, in a minute, girl’. Does that minute ever come? No. No it does not. I’ve basically got to sit on him and force him to get it put on. What guy doesn’t want his Mrs hands rubbing all over him? I swear man, that boy.” 

-

“Who was your worst ex?” Faith acts like she’s reading questions off her phone, still playing into the fake podcast bit. 

“Hands down, the one before Alfie. Like, no joke. Man- No, boy was a fucking waste. I literally got to near the end of the relationship and I was like ‘I don’t even want to spend time with you anymore’. He- You  know when a guy just drains your soul? I was just like ‘don’t touch me, don’t talk to me’. Everything was an argument. Nothing was ever enough. He wanted the whole baby, house, marriage straight away and I’m like ‘mate we are eighteen years old. I am a child!”

It’s night and day between your ex and Alfie. It’s so easy with Alfie, every day he makes you laugh until you cry, he loves you like it’s the most natural, easy thing in the world, any argument is petty, silly bullshit that’s solved by a cuddle and an apology. 

“D’you think Alfie is your person?” 

“A hundred percent,” you nod without a doubt, “I made him watch Grey’s Anatomy so he’d get why I was calling him McDreamy.” 

“You two are so cute, man, I love it.” 

-

“D’you know when you’re planning an ‘everything shower’ and your man’s like ‘oooh, shower?” You wink at the camera suggestively, imitating Alfie’s deep voice. 

“Oh my god! I know.” Faith agrees. 

Neither of you are being very quiet talking and agreeing so vehemently with one another, it’s a shock you haven’t been found. 

“I’m like, ‘babe, I’m about to shave everything below my eyebrows, exfoliate every inch of my body, wash my hair, deep condition, hair mask. The works. By the time I’m done with all that, I’m a sweating mess, never mind blow drying my hair, moisturising while sweating my tits off. The last thing I want is you thinking you’re getting lucky.” 

“Thank you.” You nod, and speak to the camera. “To all the boys watching, your girlfriend doesn’t want you in the shower when she’s having an everything shower.”

-

“Nah, but I do actually fancy him so much though,” you gush about Alfie, now on the topic of your men. “Like he calls himself ‘leng and wham’ and I’m like ‘yeah, babe, you are’. And, oh my god, don’t get me started on when he’s got a fresh trim. The barber’s just left and I’m like ‘sooo, couch? Kitchen counter? Bed? Floor?”

A lot of your conversations will probably get cut from the final edit of the video, thank the Lord, but you’re only being honest. Your man is stunning. 

“Oh my god, the fresh trim,” Faith agrees, “or when he’s just back from the gym, I swear.” 

“Oh my- yes. I love it.” 

“I’m actually so terrible when I’m ovulating though, like I’m ready to jump him wherever, whenever.” 

“Honestly, same, and then I end up crying when I think we’re in no position to have a baby right now.” 

-

You spend ten minutes texting Ethan and Alfie, teasing them to come find you. Eventually you grow bored of that, and end up laying down like a starfish in the middle of the floor. 

“I fear we might have hidden too well,” you yawn, throwing your arm over your eyes to block out the light. 

“Nah, just think about the beach, the sun, the drinks. We are winning this one, babe.” 

- 

You end up falling asleep on the floor, it’s probably only been like 45 minutes but between the laughs, the fake podcast episode and how warm and cosy it is in the room, you’re out like a child after a sugar crash. 

Faith snaps a photo of you snoozing on the floor, blocking out the background so they can’t figure out where you are  and sends it to Ethan and Alfie. 

Faith- Might want to tell us we’ve won already. You’re so shit, you’ve bored Y/N to sleep. 

Ethan- Where the fuck are you two, I found everyone else ten minutes ago. We’ve all been walking around in circles. 

Faith- looool, you suck. Send proof everyone else has been found and I’ll tell u. We’re not that stupid, boyo. 

Ethan sends a video of all the Sidemen and friends in the video in the garden complaining about how no one could find you. 

Faith nudges your leg to wake you up. “Y/N, we’ve won.” 

You grumble and roll over onto your front,  happy you’d won but, God, it’s so cosy in the wardrobe. “Have we actually?” 

“Yeah, babe, get up.” She chuckles, gently kicking the arm that’s covering your eyes. 

-

When you get out to the garden, you’re shielding  your eyes like the sun’s offensive.  You’re not met with cheers yet, but questions of where the hell you were. 

“That’s classified,” Faith gloats. 

“Yeah, you’re not privy to that information, I’m afraid.” You continue. 

“I actually feel bare betrayed right now.” Alfie grumbles, fake glaring at you and Faith. “Ten grand we could have had and I’m seeing none of it.” 

“You can see the pictures of me in a bikini in Greece when me and Faith go,” you shrug, walking over to condescendingly pat his cheek. 

Ethan does the sign off for the video, then turns to you and Faith, both of you grinning victoriously. “I actually hate you two together.” He laughs, “Y/N you’re banned from my house. No more sleepovers. I’m not getting mugged off like this when I pay the mortgage.” 

“Fuck off, I’ll be here tomorrow booking a holiday with your wife. Now, send me my 5k, bitch.”