⤷‧₊˚JULES •°. *

— 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚, 𝙞 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙖 𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙚 —

[juliestori]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐄…

𝗃𝗎𝗅𝗂𝖾 𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝖾;𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗌𝖿𝗃-𝗍 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄&𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗀 𝗎𝗄𝗒𝗍 𝗋𝖺𝗉 𝗉𝗈𝗉 𝖼𝗈𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗄𝖺𝗂 𝗇𝗂𝖼𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗈 𝗈𝖻𝗑 𝗉𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝗂𝗆𝗒𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗇𝖾𝗍𝗍 𝗁𝗌𝗆𝗍𝗆𝗍𝗌 𝗃𝗈𝗌𝗁𝗎𝖺𝖻𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗍 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆 𝗓𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖺𝗒𝖺 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝖾

𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒐𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍𝒔…

-𝗆𝖺𝖽𝗌𝗅𝗎𝗏𝗋 | 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗉𝖺𝖽 , 𝗃𝗎𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖾𝖾876 | 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍 , 𝗃𝗎𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 | 𝗍𝗂𝗄𝗍𝗈k

𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕…

ukyt,

outerbanks,

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧!

disney shows,

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧!

nickelodeon shows,

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧!

pretty little liars,

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧!

cobra kai,

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧!

sturniolo triplets,

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧!

[buttlesbunnie]

THE REAPING ── a.frederick ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

summary: nothing is more important to you than being the chosen one

content: mentions of death and violence , reader is specifically 18 years old , fictional district two victors & members

notes: THE FIRST CHAPTER AHHHH!!! so giddy to be bringing this to you, but apologies that there’s no arthur in this one. just needed to set the tone and mood for you guys, i promise he’ll be in the next one xx

A LOUD KNOCK on your door disturbed your slumber. The mattress beneath you was barely comfortable, whilst it wasn’t hard, the springs beneath the memory foam dug into your ribs uncomfortably when you lay on your front.

“Get up! It’s your big day!”

You hummed in acknowledgement of your father’s words, pushing yourself up and back onto your heels.

Without complaint or argument, you peeled yourself out of bed, making your way across the hall of your family’s town house.

The sound of hustle and bustle came from downstairs as you dipped yourself into the bath pre-made for you by your mother. The water was lukewarm by now, but still pleasurable enough to wake you.

You rested your head back against the old ceramic bath, tilting sideways and peering out of the window.

The sky was grey, and thick plumes of a colour nearing on black spilled into the air.

You could just about see the sharp slope of the imposing mountain that loomed in the background of your home district. Its snow-topped peak ascended into the low hanging clouds, leaving only the harsh, dark grey of its rocky landscape visible.

The anticipation of The Reaping was running through your mind, lighting a ferocious, burning fire in your stomach at the sheer exhilaration at the thought of being picked out of that blessed fishbowl.

Training techniques and methods were being recited in your head, eyes fluttering from one side of the window to the next as you envisioned yourself performing them to complete perfection and taking out anyone that got in your way.

A blade that would slice through the air, the whistle of a fired arrow, or even the swoosh of a sword as it was brought down into the chest of an opponent.

Anything sharp and deadly would be your best friend.

After letting your skin soak up the bath water for a decent amount of time, you reached for your bar of soap, gliding it over your flesh before scratching it clean with an old flannel.

Once you’d spent a significant amount of time in the bath, you stepped out, watching the now dirtied water swirl down the drain. The soft glugging of a fed drain came from the pipes, making you turn your back on the tub and begin to dry yourself with a towel.

In your room, your mother had laid out your outfit across the back of your vanity chair; a dark, denim, pleated, ankle-length skirt paired with an arsenic-grey cotton button up t-shirt with frilly sleeves.

You changed silently before perching on your seat, beginning to style your hair, pulling it up into the tallest, proudest ponytail of all.

A mimic of the one in the poster behind you.

You caught the eyes of an illustrated Athena Vaughn through your mirror, taking a moment to stare at the image and everything it stood for.

Pride and power with a hint of femininity.

She was the first female victor to originate from your district, and you yearned to have a legacy like hers.

Her hair was as dark as the mountainous coal used in the blacksmiths on the edge of the district’s territory, and her eyeliner was as sharp as the weapons you’d spent the past six years of your life training with.

You dragged your eyes away from the poster and back to yourself.

Analysing yourself in the mirror was such a waste of time, but you simply couldn’t help yourself.

Did your shirt look too creased? Was your ponytail high and neat enough? Was your skirt a decent length? Was your skin clean? Or did you look like you’d been ambushed by a swarm of tracker-jackers?

You tucked your shirt even, bunching your skirt up to grab the hem of your shirt from under it, pulling it taught and then flattening your skirt back against your thighs.

Deciding that you looked more than presentable, you slinked down the stairs, footsteps light, airy and silent as you’d been trained to do.

“Ah, there she is!” Your mother swooned, immediately approaching you, “Don’t you look marvelous?”

“Thanks mum.” You smiled, taking your place at the table as she placed a bowl of mushy cereal in front of you.

“Here, oh and a special something since it’s your big day.” She grinned, providing you with a serving of steaming hot chocolate and a side plate of biscuits.

“Sick!” You elated, pushing your cereal away and immediately dunking a plain, beige circle into the warm drink.

“Don’t let yourself take advantage of this.” Your father’s voice came stern from the head of the table, “During the games you won’t have access to these luxuries. In fact, we’re lucky the Capitol gift us even this.”

“Now, now, dear,” Your mother placed her hands on her husband’s shoulders, “Let her bask in privileges for now.”

“I’m only saying. Her brother did the same thing two games ago, and look where that ended him.”

You stiffened, halting your chewing and lowering your hand.

The air seemed to thicken and everything went quiet, bar the ticking clock hanging from the wall above the chopping board in the kitchen.

“Sweetheart.”

You lifted your head in your father’s direction.

“Do not let arrogance cloud your judgement. You’ve been training for this ever since you were little. Know that you are good up here,” He tapped the side of his head, “Don’t let it come out of here.” He pointed to his lips.

“I know.” You nodded rigidly, “I won’t be cocky.”

The front door swung open as one half of a set of twins burst into the home.

“Ah, there you are!”

Your older brother was dressed in his white uniform, baton sheathed at his hip and gun in hand and his helmet under his arm.

“Hi, Gabion.” You smiled, delighted at the sight of your brother.

“Sorry, needed to come and see you before The Reaping.” Gabion placed his gun down on the kitchen counter and slid into the chair next to you, “How are you feeling?”

You paused, “Excited, actually. A little nervous. What if another girl volunteers before me?”

“You’re quick.” Gabion said, “Get there first.”

“That applies to a lot of things, my darling.” Your mother reminded you, “Get to weaponry first, get to sponsors first, get to other tributes for an alliance—“

You huffed, rolling your eyes, “I don’t need an alliance. I can do well on my own. Another person would only slow me down.”

“You need alliances, Reader.” Gabion shook his head, “It’ll keep you in the games for longer. You don’t need to like them. Just tolerate them.”

“And then take their head off in the night.” Your father added.

You snorted at the thought, shaking your head in amusement.

“But, yes, your brother’s right. You need alliances.”

“Seb had an alliance.” You muttered, “And that’s the reason he’s dead.”

“No, your brother is dead because he was weak and couldn’t act quick enough.” Your father spoke adamantly, “Do not make the same mistakes as him. You are not weak, nor are you slow.”

You peered at Gabion, sneaking a glance as to what his expression might be saying.

His jaw was tight, muscles in his neck pulsing as his head hung low.

He looked to you after concealing himself, giving you a tight-lipped smile, “Like I said, get there first.”

You knew he wanted to say something, to counteract your father’s harsh, demeaning words, but he remained wordless. Though you and Gabion could argue until the sun rises again about the means in which your brother perished during his games, it would be futile and fall upon deaf, ignorant ears.

The shrill ringing of a bell sounded from outside, causing your mother to perk up.

“Ah! It’s time!” She clapped.

You hummed, quickly shovelling down two spoonfuls of cereal-slop before bidding farewell to your parents and making your way to the square with your brother.

He slid his helmet on, patting you on the back before splitting from you.

Girls your age and younger were gathered in one half of the square. The youthful group were stationed at the front, whilst you and your competitors were lined at the back.

It was between you and them.

Only one of you was going to be the ones to bring home a victory and make your families proud.

You’d be damned if you let someone else steal your glory.

You caught the eye of one of your friends, Marcia. She stood a few rows ahead, peering back at you with an all-knowing smirk. You grinned cockily, winking at her.

She was a year younger than you, but at 17, she held the same fierceness and desperation to prove herself as everybody else. Her time would be next year.

When heels began to click against the stage before you, Marcia turned her attention back to the front as everyone in the courtyard fell silent.

“Welcome everyone!” Savina Solstice’s sugary sweet voice echoed through the microphone, “Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds ever be in your favour.”

A few ‘whoops’ and cheers came from across the square.

“Now, the time has come for us to select one courageous young man and woman to honour and represent our beautiful District 2 in the 21st annual Hunger Games.”

You ringed your hands in front of you, rocking impatiently back and forth on the balls of your feet.

“As usual, ladies first.”

Your hand shot up immediately.

“I volunteer as tribute!”

Your head snapped to the side as several other voices called out alongside yours.

“Ah! How fantastic! We have numerous volunteers!” Savina praised, arms out towards you with her palms facing upwards, “Come now, all of you, first to make it to the stage.”

You were not expecting to be sprinting for your life already, but you took off before you could even think about it, refusing to round the stage and climb the stairs, instead choosing to mount the front of it and haul yourself up.

“Go on, Reader!” Marcia cheered, clapping with a few other girls.

It was an unfortunate let down to see that a second girl had taken the stage at the same time you had.

You scowled at the girl standing alongside you.

This was your year.

Not hers.

You didn’t care if she was also 18, you didn’t care if it was her last chance to prove herself. If she was that desperate, she would’ve volunteered last year, or the year before that.

“How meritorious to see the both of you so desperate to want to represent your homes!” Savina beamed, “What are your names?”

You recited your full name with your chest puffed out and your spine stood tall.

A couple boys and girls from your training classes applauded and whistled, making you grin at the encouragement.

“And yourself, dear?” Savina moved the microphone to the lips of the girl.

“Heddy Steele.”

“Wonderful, ladies. As I’m sure you’re aware, it’s up to your mentors to decide who gets to participate in this years games. Claudia, if you will?” Savina laid a hand out towards the woman.

Her skin was pale, eyes and cheeks sunken with the memories of her own games. Of losing her district partner in a way that had the Gamemakers plans written all over it. Still, she was prideful and headstrong.

When your name rang from Claudia’s lips, your body didn’t know whether to stand up straighter in gratification, or sag in relief of saving you from embarrassment.

Your peers cheered from below you, but Marcia was the loudest, hands raised well above her head for you.

A smug expression overtook your face as you turned to the girl who had failed.

“That’s too bad.” You pouted.

Her lip curled up in resentment, something spiteful threatening to crawl up out of her throat and be spat in your face, but the Peacekeepers dragged her off-stage before her words could reach your ears.

“And now, for the boys.”

A greater selection of boys volunteered and charged forwards, leaving five of them on stage for the male mentor, Barrett, to choose from.

One of these select few was a boy named Gauge. You’d spent a lot of time with him in training, and from what you knew and had witnessed, he was fairly skilled in both combat and survival skills.

If he was chosen, he would be either a fantastic ally, or a deadly opponent.

And you didn’t do allies.

There was a lack of surprise in your face when Barrett set his sights on Gauge and chose him to be the male tribute for this years games.

He joined you at the front, both of you sharing a superior smirk that said the same thing; ‘We are better than everyone else, and now we have to prove it. We will prove it.’

“And here we have our tributes for the 21st Annual Hunger Games!”

The crowd rejoiced and cacophonous cheers sounded through the square.

You beamed at the attention, adrenaline coursing through you at speeds which may be deemed unhealthy to any normal person. But you weren’t normal.

You were trained and ready and determined to do whatever it takes to win those games, violent or not.

The regular repetition of your days had finally accumulated into meaning something. Into being something.

When you were whisked off into the District Hall by Peacekeepers and kept in a solitary room, you finally allowed yourself to show a slither of emotion that wasn’t arrogance.

You grinned, humming a happy tune to yourself as you bounced from one foot to the other in miniscule movements.

Joy was radiating off of you, showcasing in the little ways like your feet pattering against the cold stone floor and your fingers buzzing with the excitement of becoming a name tribute in the Hunger Games.

The door swung open, revealing your parents.

Your mother was beaming from ear to ear, whisking you into her arms.

“I’m so proud of you!” She gasped out, “I knew the moment Clauia laid her eyes on you that it was going to be you. I just knew it. That other girl didn’t stand a chance.”

“We’re both proud of you, darling.” Your dad smiled gently, “You’re gonna knock ‘em dead. Literally.”

“I’m gonna try my best.” You nodded firmly.

“Your best is winning. Remember that. There’s no such thing as trying your best unless you come out on top.” He placed his hands on your shoulders, “You’re fast and know your way around a knife or two. You’re not dumb either, you have practiced survival skills. Don’t forget about them the way your brother did. Don’t let an alliance blindside you.”

You groaned, “I’m not going to have an alliance, dad.”

“Then you will die.”

You went rigid in his arms, eyes transforming from a hard glare to a softened gaze.

The unfiltered brutality coming from his lips made you blink in shock.

It had never been laid out to you like that.

The realities of what you were about to face had always been sugarcoated or glorified, because to your district, it was glory and it was honour. To even have a chance in the games was something to be venerated.

Your mother must’ve witnessed the flicker of uncertainty in your eyes as she interrupted, wrapping a hand around her husbands bicep, squeezing it in a warning manner, “No, you won’t die. Because the Capitol will love you, and anyone in that arena with you would be lucky to have you as an ally.”

The Peacekeepers infiltrated the room, cutting your time short as the train was loaded in at the station.

Your face fell in disappointment, “Gabion isn’t coming?”

“He has his duties as a Peacekeeper, honey. But he’s just as proud as we are.”

“Oh, okay.”

“We love you so much.” She pressed a firm kiss to your forehead.

“Love you, sweetheart. Make us proud.” Your dad gave you another nod and a smile, before they were gone, and you were being guided out of the District Hall and towards the train station.

The feeling of leaving District Two was uncanny to you. A distinctive moment that needed to be noted down in history to be remembered forever.

Saying goodbye to the greyscale buildings and constant smell of burning metal made you feel a little dampened inside, but then you remembered why you were leaving, and all of a sudden, it didn’t sound too bad.

Your shoulder brushed against Gauge’s as Savina led the way to the train.

The vehicle was sleek and silver, looking like it had recently been cleaned just for you.

This had the potential to be the one-way trip of your life, but you were immovable in your determination to make it back to your district.

Your parents would not lose another child.

You refused to let them down in such an embarrassing way.

You had the advantage here — the upper hand — as a result of the intensive preparations you’d endured for years beforehand. You’d be a fool to let something as stupid as arena conditions or a faulty alliance be the reason for your fatality.

[buttlesbunnie]

i just thought i’d come forward tonight and say that i’ve noticed an uprise in negativity within the ukyt community on here and it’s not very nice/ encouraging to witness.

whether you’re just a reader or a writer as well, it’s plain to see that writers have been getting an onslaught of awful commentary in their inbox.

yes, you have the freedom of speech, but that doesn’t mean you can abuse that freedom and turn it into something negative and hurtful.

these are real people behind the screens and to send hurtful words, shaming them for their writing, calling their writing shit, or just overall being a nasty person doesn’t make you a better one.

you have the ability on this app to scroll and ignore anything you don’t like. utilise that. instead of sending unnecessary hate, just scroll. not everything on here is perfectly finalised to suit you, and that’s also fine.

i really hope that the negativity comes to an end fairly quickly because it’s incredibly frustrating and upsetting to come onto this platform and see myself and my friends receiving a lot of hate just for doing what and talking about the things we enjoy.

on the other hand, thank you to everyone who has been so lovely and supportive to those receiving hate these past few days! your words mean more than you know and they certainly do not go unnoticed xx

[buttlesbunnie]

FORCED PROXIMITY #1 ── a.buttle ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

summary: walking into INSIDE, you did not expect to see your ex-boyfriend there too

content: exs to lovers , swearing , light angst , mentions of sexual experiences

notes: chapter one !!! wahoo !!! i did sack off anna just for this, but now i feel like it should’ve been lydia ‘coz she was kinda irrelevant … oh well

THE LAST THING you thought you were going to see when you first crossed the threshold into the INSIDE house, was a very attractive man behind a glass wall.

Admiring your surroundings, you noticed how it was only slightly different from the last season, as they previously had no one to greet and instruct them. You adjusted your brown flared leggings over your stomach and untwisted the strap of your white tank top.

“Hello.” You smiled, waving at the man and wheeling your suitcase forward.

He nodded at you and then gestured to the conveyor belt, “Luggage on there please.”

You grunted as you heaved your brown and pink polka dot suitcase onto the platform, watching it disappear.

“Do I get my stuff back?” You asked.

“It’s filtered through to make sure you’ve got no contraband.” The guard-guy explained.

“Filtered through? I’ve got underwear in there!” You scoffed, “I always knew the Sidemen were perverts.” You tutted.

“Through the doors please.”

“Bye, sexy guard-guy.” You muttered, opening the door and walking through the halls.

Nerves and excitement rushed through you simultaneously, making you glide your nails along each other as you moved, creating a soft clacking noise. The fact that it was silent had you thinking you were the first one there.

That was until you saw a distressed grey jumper and light grey joggers on a very tall and well-built man, sitting at the table in the communal area.

“For fuck’s sake.” You muttered, freezing in your spot.

His head turned to you, and you could’ve sworn time slowed down.

You hadn’t seen Alfie in about 10 months when you’d gone round to his to pick up the last of your stuff, and when you had, it was an emotional time where he tried to convince you to stay for a little longer and his pleading had you breaking down in tears in the car on the way home.

“Oh, hi.” Alfie said, standing up.

“Hey, Alfie.” You shuffled towards him. “Are we the first ones here?”

“Yeah, unless someone’s hiding.” He joked, and you let out a barely-there chuckle. “C’mere, girl.”

You sighed, accepting his arms around you.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t relax into his hold. Your own arms came around his waist, your cheek to his chest.

“How you been?” He asked, pulling back.

“Okay,” You nodded, dropping your arms back to your sides, “You?”

“Yeah, good. Moved to London, third podcast host … feelin’ good.”

“Yeah, I saw.” You hummed, “What’s the bedding situation?”

“Uhh, c’mon, I’ll show you.”

You followed him through to the bedroom, where there were 12 individual beds.

“Which one have you got?” You asked.

“One in the corner.”

“Right.” You hummed, taking your box of clothes and settling them on the bed furthest from his.

“Fuckin’ell, I’m not that bad, am I?” He snorted.

“Shut up.” You giggled back.

The pair of you made your way back into the main room, sitting on the extremely uncomfortable bench. He was on the bend, you were perched on the main stretch, zoning out at the wall across from you.

This couldn’t be happening.

You could not possibly be spending the next week in a house with your ex-boyfriend.

“So … You excited to be here?”

“Yeah.” You replied, “Will be interesting.”

“You’ll be good about the money spending. You won’t do too much.”

“Thanks.” You smiled awkwardly, “You won’t.”

He cackled, scratching the inner corner of his eye with his thumb.

“You’re gonna meal upgrade every day.”

“Probably.”

“Alfie.” You sighed, looking up at him and tilting your head with a scolding but amused glint in your eyes, “You can’t. Be sensible. You can hack rice and beans for a week. You don’t eat anything with flavour anyway.”

“Jesus, stop shitting on me, girl.”

Another head popped around the door at that moment, tall and tanned in grey joggers and a white t-shirt.

“Oh, shit!” Alfie laughed, standing up to greet Marlon.

“Nice to meet you, bro.” Marlon hugged him.

You stood up, hugging the newcomer next.

“Hi, I’m Reader.”

“Yeah, I know you. You did the uh- uh- PLT shoot, right?” Marlon said.

“Yeah, weren’t you doing the Nike shoot at the same time? Like across the warehouse.”

“Yeah, yeah. That was a busy day, man.” He chuckled.

Alfie sat himself on one of the stools as you sat on the end of the rock-hard sofa, watching the two men get giddy about seeing each other. You chuckled at their enthusiasm.

“Where’d y’all put your clothes at?” Marlon asked.

“On my bed— Oh, yeah, claim your bed.” Alfie answered, getting up to walk him through to the bedrooms.

You didn’t bother going with them, keeping your spot on the seat and gnawing on the tip of your acrylic nail.

This was hell.

It truly was.

You didn’t think INSIDE would be too hard, but now seeing that you would have to be here with Alfie, you were coming to the conclusion that you’d severely underestimated the psychological warfare that this experience was about to put you through.

Every time you looked at him, you were overwhelmed with warm flashbacks of the two of you. Ones where you were giggling in bed together at night, ones where you were throwing food at each other while trying your luck at baking, ones where he would hold you while laughing because you were crying over something silly.

Perhaps you would just have to ignore him for seven days.

If you even made it that far.

They came back from the bedrooms, sitting on the right of you.

“Reader, do you do just modelling or?” Marlon striked up a conversation.

“I do beauty content on TikTok and Instagram.” You answered, “Also I kinda went a bit viral for just ranting about shit. I had a video where I was in my bathroom just sobbing and shouting about not running out of time and stuff, it’s actually really funny looking back on it.”

“Running out of time?” He laughed.

You noticed Alfie’s eyes cemented on you as you spoke, not even giving Marlon a glance when he was speaking.

“Yeah, I felt like I was constantly being rushed in life and it sent me into a crisis where I realised I wasn’t— like, there was no need to be rushing. Anyway, yeah. That blew up. Clearly the people related.”

“So you’re famous for influencing and crashing out, got it.” He joked.

You laughed at him.

A bright pink tracksuit caught your eye as another contestant walked in.

“Indiyah!” You screamed, running up to her and hugging her tightly.

“Reader!” She grinned, hugging you back. “I did not know you were here!”

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here either!”

“Ah, yeah, Love Island.” Alfie said, greeting the girl with a hug, “I’m Alfie, nice to meet you.”

Gradually, the other contestants joined the house until you were in a full house of 12. You were all congregated on the ‘sofa’, you sat between Chian and Marlon, talking with the girls with your back to the boys.

Out of sight out of mind.

“What’s the minimum that you would like to go home with at the end of the day?” Eddie asked the group.

“How about this! How about this, nobody has ever gone home with over 500. So we can really—“ Marlon said.

“Set a record.” You added.

“Yeah!” Chian gasped.

“So if we all really lock in that we gotta be over 500,000, I think that’s reasonable.”

“It’s not gonna happen, but we should try.” Alfie commented.

“Yeah, not with you here.” You muttered.

“Oi!” He exclaimed, frowning.

“Do you two know each other?” Chloe asked loudly.

You nodded slowly.

Awkwardly.

“Did you used to date or something? You’re acting so awkward.” Alhan asked, analysing your body language.

You glanced over at Alfie, but he just stared back at you, as if expecting you to speak.

“Nah! You definitely did!” Chloe exclaimed, “Really?! Oh my God! Why did ya’s break up?!”

You huffed, getting up and removing yourself from the room.

That was not a conversation that needed to be had in a room full of strangers.

You ended up sat in the dressing room, busying yourself with fixing your makeup and running over the same mantra fifty times in your head.

‘It’s not that deep, it’s just for a week’.

“Reader, you okay, lovely?” Indiyah’s voice chimed sweetly.

You turned around, giving her a tight lipped smile and nodding.

“You sure?” She sat on the stool next to you.

“Yeah, it’s just that that’s not a conversation I wanna talk about, y’know?”

“Totally.” She nodded, “You don’t have to tell anyone your business with Alfie. She shouldn't have asked that in front of everyone, but I don’t think it was done maliciously.”

“Oh, no, me neither, but … still kinda annoying.”

“He did shut it down, by the way. When you left, he just told everyone to move on and not bring it up again.” She informed you.

“Yeah, but I didn’t what it being known because now I feel like it’s gonna cause unnecessary tension within the whole group, like, that’s between me and Alfie and it’s how I wanted it to be kept, but … oh well.” You shrugged.

“Well, even if it does get brought up again, we can just shut it down. Nope, nope, nope. Not a conversation that needs to be had.” Indiyah reassured you with a hug before managing to convince you to come back to the communal area.

Eyes were on you but you didn’t care, placing yourself between Chian and Indiyah this time, keeping yourself another person away from Alfie.

Just as you sat down, the Sidemen came into the room with loud hollers and cheers.

“Welcome to INSIDE!” KSI shouted, making everyone clap.

“Your prize fund starts at one million pounds!”

“But! There can only be one winner … So trust no one.”

Everyone shared guilty or suspicious looks.

“The shop is now open!” Tobi announced.

Immediately, Marlon, Expressions, Chloe and Alfie were rushing to the shop, whereas everyone else followed behind leisurely.

You felt a firm, large hand on your shoulder. When you turned your head, you saw Eddie.

“Hi.” You smiled softly.

“Hey, you alright?”

“Yeah, all good.”

“Just so you know, don’t feel pressured to answer anyone’s questions about your relationship with Alfie. That’s your privacy, no one else needs to know.” Eddie told you gently.

Considering the sheer size of him combined with the intimidating factor, he was actually very sweet.

You nodded, “I know. Thanks.”

In the shop, Alfie was up to the camera in the corner, muttering to it.

“Reader! Share crisps with me!” Indiyah grabbed your arm.

“If you’re buying them, okay.” You nodded, watching her go and speak to the camera, confirming the order.

Alhan began speaking then, “It’s the first day. Fuck the cushions, yeah? Just be smart with your money, put it towards your meal upgrades. Imagine a prosecco later.”

You raised your hand, wanting to speak.

“Oi, let Reader speak.” Alfie cut in through Chloe’s whining about wanting an alcoholic drink.

“If we keep this whole ‘saving money for meal upgrades’ going, then surely they’ll just raise the price of a meal upgrade? It’s, what? £5,000 now? Tomorrow, it could be £10,000 just because of our plan.” You theorised.

“It won’t be 10 grand, blud.” Expressions tutted, shaking his head.

“Cushions already are.” Saffron backed you up, “And we’ve been whining about getting them already.”

“I get what you’re saying. That’s smart. That’s smart.” Marlon nodded at you.

After everyone had order what they wanted, you all went off separately, the girls congregating in the bathroom.

“I don’t trust the boys.” Chian said immediately.

“Trust the boys about spending, or?” Lydia blended her lipliner in with her finger.

“Be careful, though, you don’t wanna create a boys versus girls thing already ‘coz that just gets messy.” You reasoned, “I think the boys will be good in challenges. Alfie will be, just saying, he’ll just force himself to lock in, but he’ll be shit when it comes to food.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he’s a proper fussy eater, so I’m just saying, he’s a guaranteed meal upgrade for every meal, that’s, what? Minimum £15,000 a day?”

“Can you talk to him about that? Get him to not?” Lydia asked.

“I can try.” You shrugged.

“I think boys … like, they need the energy.” Chian said, “So they’re not going to be stupid in voting the girls out.”

In the living room, the boys were having a very similar conversation.

“I think they’re smarter than us, bro, they’re smarter.” Expressions tapped the side of his temple.

“I don’t know, they’ve got Chloe from Geordie Shore and Saffron Barker. I dunno how much smarter—“ Alhan scratched his beard.

“Nah, Reader’s smart. She’s very smart.” Alfie but in.

“She is?” Ben hummed.

“Yeah, and her and Indiyah are already friends. Those two are a guaranteed duo.”

“Will Reader betray her, you think?” Marlon asked.

Alfie pulled a ‘meh’ face, scratching his beard, “I dunno— Nah, nah, she won’t. She’s far too loyal. I think— I think if it’s one of them to betray each other, it’ll be Indiyah betraying Reader. She’s too soft.”

“Reader’s soft?”

“Have you seen her, bro?” Expressions laughed, “Left the room when someone asked about her relationship with Alfie— What’s that about?”

“I don’t wanna get into it without her being here, but essentially, I was just a massive prick.” Alfie admitted awkwardly.

“Damn, bro.” Marlon tutted.

When lunch rolled around, a lot of the guys were in uproar about the pathetic meal of rice and beans, whereas you just took the styrofoam container and began eating out of it.

“Is it good?” Lydia nudged you, and you nodded.

“It’s just a bit boring, is all.” You hummed before skipping into the main room to sit at the table and eat in peace.

Everyone joined you after a while, Alfie (for some reason) stood directly beside you with his meal upgrade next to your basic one.

“D’you want some?” He asked softly.

You looked down at the sandwich seemingly composed of meat, vegetables and cheese, and shook your head.

“What, you being sensible?” He smirked, picking the meat out to eat.

“Well, yeah, not spending 5 grand on a meal upgrade when I can just hack rice and beans.” You shrugged, your reply blunt and dry, a bit like your rice actually.

He gave you an awkward smile and nodded, taking note of your bored tone.

Since he saw you for the first time in 10 months, Alfie was really hoping that he could reconcile with you in here. Surely the forced proximity would be good for him to make a move and try and fix things, but that wouldn’t be possible if you kept avoiding him or being dry. He knew that he fucked up a year ago, and he knew that you probably hated him, but he was still desperately in love with you, and he was 99% sure that would never change.

He needed to get you back.

He would do anything to have you back.

After getting changed into the blue tracksuits they’d provided you with, you were sent to the challenge arena for the first official challenge of the season.

KSI and Simon were stood either side of a wooden box that had a clear one on top of it, and holes for what you assumed was your head to go into.

“This is Too Close for Comfort.” KSI introduced, “Every round, two Insiders will be paired and asked a juicy question. In order to complete the challenge, they must truthfully answer each question. However, whilst doing so, a few distractions will take place. If the distraction is too much too handle, they can press the red button and step out of the challenge. But, doing so, will cost the team £10,000.”

The first ones to go were Lydia and Expressions, in which they were asked ‘Who do you think has a zero chance at winning?’ and ‘Shag, marry, kill’ with different footballers, all whilst cockroaches roamed their head and the box.

They did it successfully, and everyone else began having their go, Indiyah being the only to opt out once rats were placed in the box with her head.

“Okay, the final round. Reader, AB.” Simon announced, making you huff. “This time, you’re not gonna be facing the tank.”

The pair of you were whisked off and told to put on swim wear, him in black trunks and you in a black one-piece.

When you came back, the tank had been replaced with an ice bath.

“For fuck sake.” You muttered, looking down at the water.

“You have a very cold bath.”

You both took your robes off.

“Reader, you got this.” Indiyah cheered you on.

You held onto the rim of the tub, placing one foot and then the other, screaming at the cold.

“Shit! Shit!” You hissed, lowering yourself slowly out of fear of sending your heart into shock, “It’s so fucking cold, I’m gonna pee!”

“This is a joke.” Alfie sat across from you, teeth chattering as he gripped the edges of the tub, “You good?”

“Fuck, it’s so cold. What’s the questions, just go.” You flapped your hand.

“Uh, yeah, let’s bring in the eels first.”

“What?!” You screamed, immediately standing up, your knees knocking together from the cold.

“If you get out, that is 10,000!” KSI shouted.

You whined.

“Reader, Reader!” Alfie spoke to you, knocking his hand against your thigh, “Sit down, c’mon. It’s fine.”

“No, it’s fucking not!”

“Oi, oi, chill.” He tried to calm you, “Just sit down, don’t get out.”

You huffed and lowered yourself again, squeezing your eyes shut and not even watching as the eels were placed in the tub with you.

You screamed when one brushed your leg.

“Ay, ay, ay.” He patted your hand.

You unclenched your eyes, looking at him as he offered you his hand.

You took it without thinking, squeezing his fingers tightly.

“AB. What is your most embarrassing moment?” Simon asked him.

“Errr—“ He looked across at you, “Can I say nutting too early?” He said it knowing it would cause you to laugh, which it did.

You let out a little chuckle, eyes still clamped closed.

He was happy to have relieved you from stress for a quick second.

“I’ll take that.” Simon nodded, “Name drop of who it was with—“

“Alright, chill out.” Alfie scoffed amusedly.

“Reader?”

You hummed, nodding.

“You’re fairly open on TikTok about sex and the whole ‘big sister’ mode.”

Again, you nodded rapidly in a panic about the eels slithering around you.

“What’s your biggest kink?”

Your head snapped towards them, mouth gaping open.

The rest of the contestants laughed while Alfie rubbed his thumb over your knuckles.

“I can’t say that on Netflix.” You laughed awkwardly, “You’ll all get into trouble for airing it.”

“Yo, what?!” KSI cackled, “What the fuck is it?!”

“AB, say it for her!” Alhan said.

“No, then we’re all getting into trouble.” Alfie exclaimed.

“Size difference!” You shouted, “Can I get out now?!”

“I think she’s lying.” Simon spoke to KSI. “That’s quite tame, no?”

“Please please please can I get out?!” You squeezed Alfie’s hand tighter.

“We’re gonna have to push you for a better—“

You whined loudly, teeth chattering.

“I don’t know what you want me to say without getting you into trouble with the big Netflix guys!” You huffed.

“Is it that bad?”

You gave them a challenging look.

“Okay, okay, we’ll accept size difference, you can get out.”

You wasted no time hurling yourself over the edge of the tub and wrapping yourself in a robe and putting slippers on.

“Fuck the both of you.” You shivered.

In celebration of the challenge being complete, you were all given cushions to make the sofa a hell of a lot more comfortable.

Back in the main house, everyone set the cushions up on the couch and dinner was ready.

Once again, a dish of rice and beans.

Unfortunately, over half of the contestants ordered a meal upgrade.

Eddie ended up taking the steak whereas the rest of them got a burger.

“Do you want some steak?” He asked you.

“No, I’m okay, thanks.” You smiled gratefully regardless.

“Reader, why are you bare good? Like, proper goodie-two-shoes.” Expressions said, sat across from you.

You kinda blanked a little, not expecting such a spontaneous question.

“Ummm—“

“Clearly she’s not! Did you not watch that last challenge?!” Alhan laughed.

You blushed furiously, taking another spoonful of rice into your mouth.

“Yeah, what’s with the no-spending?” Chloe asked.

You shrugged, “I’m just not arsed. It’s rice and beans, better than what some people get. I can take it for seven days if it means I get to go out and have an entire, like, banquet afterwards.”

“Burger.” Alfie muttered, dropping half of one in front of you.

“I don’t want it.” You muttered.

“Oi,” He muttered under his breath, “Eat it.”

“No. I’m not following your money spending scheme.” You tried to joke out of it, picking it up out of your box and handing it back to him.

He sighed, not trying to create a scene in front of everyone and took it back, eyeing you as you leisurely ate your rice and beans.

At the end of the day, when you were all gathered around on the sofa, relaxing into it now that it was comfortable, the money showed on a screen, the number lowering and lowering until it was at £934,250.

You scoffed out laughter, “That’s so much in one day!”

Everyone was sat around trying to figure out what was the main reason, and it was decided on meal upgrades. You gave a disappointed look to Alfie.

“What?”

“You need to stop.” You said honestly.

“Stop what? Upgrading my meals? You know I can’t hack boring shit.”

“You eat plain chicken nuggets every day, you can deal with rice and beans for seven.” You pulled a face.

You were wandering the halls with a makeup wipe, taking off whatever was caked onto your face when you saw Alfie slipping out of Room 19.

You frowned at him and he smiled awkwardly at being caught.

“What are you doing?”

“I bought something and it told me to go to Room 19.” He replied.

“Alfie!” You hissed, “Stop spending money!”

“It was spontaneous! I won’t do it again, promise.”

“Liar.”

It was quiet between the two of you until you asked the right question.

“What did you buy?”

“Uhhh … Promise not to tell anyone?”

You held your pinky out for him.

He laughed at the childish action, knowing that you didn’t play about pinky swearing as he hooked his to yours. He stepped closer, and you were practically chest-to-chest, you gazing up at him.

“There’s an elimination tomorrow, I’m safe from it, and I got to pick another person to be safe with me, while picking three people to be nominated for eliminations.” He whispered.

Your hand slapped over your mouth.

“Did you pick Marlon?

“For safety?”

You nodded.

“Nah, I picked you.”

Your expression softened, hand falling away from your face.

“Alfie …”

He didn’t let there be any time to dwell on it, “Anyone you don’t like? Gotta pick three to eliminate so give me some names, girl.”

“I’m not doing that.” You shook your head, moving to walk away until he grabbed your arm and pulled you back.

“Reader.”

He said your name with such softness that you couldn’t help but stay.

“Can I at least tell you my plan?

You exhaled sharply but nodded.

“Indiyah spent 10K in the challenge, Chloe and the booze … but I dunno who else.”

“Expressions, but you didn’t hear it from me.”

“He pissing you off?” Alfie smirked, reaching out for your hand and rubbing his thumb across your knuckles.

“He’s just loud. It’s not even that he’s got energy ‘coz he’s not bouncing off the walls. He’s just jarring.” You shrugged.

“Look at you, my little angel but you’re chatting shit.” He chuckled.

“Shut up.” You scoffed, hitting him back and consequently having his hand drop from yours. “Also, don’t call me that.”

“What?”

“Your angel.” You murmured, “I’m not yours anymore, Alfie.”

He sighed, scratching the back of his neck, “I know, I know. Just … haven’t spoke to you in ages, it was an accident, sorry.”

You hummed, nodding, “Okay.”

“… How’s your mum?”

“Alfie …”

“Just conversation, girl.”

“It’s not one that needs to happen.” You whispered, ending it before it even started and walking off.

A lot of conversations that haven’t happened.

A lot of conversations that might still happen.

Who knows? Time will only tell.

[tangerineflavouredfentanyl]

[sheislucifer]

let me make myself very clear, on this blog its:

fuck donald trump

fuck ICE

immigrants are not illegal

free palestine

black lives have and will always matter

trans rights forever and always

pro choice

healthcare should be free

house the homeless

keep religion out of schools

LGBTQ+ rights

fuck the tories

if you dont agree, fuck off.

[gardenspells]

just a friendly reminder that this blog hates ICE

[buttlesbunnie]

never requested before but would you please be able to do an ab smut of him and reader in the woods near the grotto🤣 like holding her mouth to keep her quiet n shit🫦 i hope this isn’t too strange but i would LOOOVE this and haven’t stopped thinking abt it since he said ab having a tug in there LMFAO also love ur writing sm xxx

BREATHLESS BENEATH THE CANOPY ── a.buttle ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

summary: request :3 content: established relationship, vaginal penetration, exhibitionism kink, corruption kink (if u squint) , ab riding , oral fixation, making out, handjob , unprotected sex (big no no) , fluff at the end notes: when people ask why i want to live in the countryside i say because it's quiet and scenic. little do they know ... @an0nym0nst3r @luvbuttlestv @iamemiliatv @wherethezoes-at @lreadss @luvr4miya @golden-hoax @loveheart-123 @iheartsophie @theoreticallythe @ocea1cperl @abizzlex @ghostwrittenbygrace

─────── ALFIE HAD BEEN craving a touch of nature ever since you'd spent the whole week in London. He had been completely buried in work, having podcasts and YouTube shoots booked back-to-back, so you both decided to just stay there for a whole week. Well, you were back now, and the woods were just calling your name.

You set out early in the morning, just as the sun was rising beautifully over the horizon. He'd told you to put a bikini on under your outfit as he was planning on going to an area where there was a little lake, just so you could really get a feel for nature after being in the city for so long. You'd put a brown, white and pink polka dot set on, the top was a triangle style and the bottoms were tie-side, and just thrown a white summer dress on over the top, pairing it with some old grey trainers.

Alfie got some pictures of you in your outfit, as requested by you, before you set of. Thankfully, it was a lovely summers day, the sun shining wildly in the middle of the sky. He drove with the windows down, and the roof window open, letting in a heavy breeze.

As always, you connected your phone to the car, playing your music and tapping your hands on your thighs along with the beat.

"You're looking alright, y'know." Alfie smirked, taking his eyes off the road to let them flicker over your body, "'S that the dress I bought you?"

"Uh-huh." You hummed, nodding and looking down at it, "I was worried it wouldn't fit me."

"I wouldn't be worried about that, girl. Less fabric means more for me to see."

"Alfie." You huffed, rolling your eyes at his inappropriate remark, but you couldn't hide the amusement you felt at his normal behaviour.

His hand landed on your thigh, nudging the edge of the dress up so he had more access to your skin.

"Alfie, we're literally nearly there. Stop it."

"You're about to be nearly there in a minute." He chuckled at himself.

You couldn't help but burst out laughing at his comment.

He pulled into the car park, his large tires dragging along the gravel as he drove around, looking for a space. Finally, he found one, pulling a quick reversing move with his hand on the back of your headrest.

Jokingly, you leant forwards, biting his bicep.

"Oi! You fuckin' freak!" He laughed, bringing his arm back to his side and rubbing the skin that now had teeth marks in it. He gave you a daring look before pulling you in by your neck, kissing you.

"You're feeling frisky today." You muttered, smiling into the kiss.

"You look too good in that dress, darlin'." He teasingly bit your lower lip as you pulled back.

"Hmm ... behave." You hummed.

"Me behave?! You just bit my bicep—“

"Behave and maybe I'll give you head in the woods." You said bluntly before getting out of the car.

Alfie's face practically lit up, "Wait, seriously?" He got out the car in a rush, desperate to catch up to you, "Are you being serious? You can't joke about something like that or I'll start rocking a semi the whole day."

You shrugged, taking his hand and waltzing down the designated path.

It was strangely quiet considering it was a blazing hot day. Maybe it was because it was a week day and all the kids were at school and adults were at work. The only people that were about were the middle-aged and elderly who were also carrying hiking equipment, which was good because that meant they wouldn't be going anywhere near the water.

The walk was very calming, although the heat was starting to get to you as a light sheen of sweat covered your body. As you'd hoped, there was no one at the lake, meaning you and Alfie would get it all to yourselves.

He dropped the backpack down on the rocky shore before kicking off his clothes.

"What if people walk past. I don't want old people looking at me in a bikini." You complained, using your hand as a shield to protect your eyes from the sun.

"Reader, stop whinging. Just take your dress off." Alfie rolled his eyes at your dramatics, "Old people aren't going to judge you for wearing a bikini. I bet that they've all done filthier things when they were our age."

"No one's filthier than you, Alf." You mumbled under your breath as you kicked your shoes off and peeled your dress over your head.

"Can't insult me with the truth, angel." He shrugged before hurling you into his arms.

You screamed, immediately locking your arms around his neck as he carried you bridal style into the water.

"Alfie, do not throw me, I swear to God!" You screamed at him, "If you do, you're coming in with me."

"I won't!" He cackled at your dramatic panic.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Okay." You sighed, relaxing your arms around his neck.

"Joking." He said quickly, adjusting his hands so one was on your back and the other on your bum before launching you out.

You screamed until you hit the water, your body going under. You kicked and kicked until your head was finally out. You let in a huge breath of air, wiping your eyes.

"You fucking arsehole!" You shouted, splashing water in his direction.

"You're fine!" He laughed, "Reader, you're okay!" He swam over to you, heaving you up into his arms.

"That wasn't funny, Alfie!" You huffed, latching your legs around his waist and arms around his neck, clinging to him like a koala, "I could've died."

"Aww, my little drama queen." He fake cooed at you.

You glared at him and then jokingly smacked him on the back of the head.

"Ow!" He exclaimed, hitching you up higher and landing a harsh slap on your backside.

"Alfie!" You hissed down his ear, "People will see us!"

"There's literally no one around."

You rolled your eyes, resting your cheek on his shoulder and muttering, "My nose feels spicy now."

He threw his head back, laughing at your description of the sensation and then looked back down at you. "Kiss? To make it better."

You couldn't help but grin at him, accepting his pouted lips. He settled for two gentle pecks before kissing you properly. You held the back of his neck as you two kissed, lips locked together. He slid his tongue across your bottom lip, one of his hands trailing up your back while the other one stayed groping your ass.

You tangled your fingers in the hair on the back of his head, tugging it gently, making him groan into your mouth as your tongues slid against each other.

A familiar heat blossomed in your core, a wetness seeping out of you, one that you knew far too well. You wondered if Alfie could feel the warmth radiating off of you. If he couldn't before, he certainly could now as you rolled your hips into his abs. The ridges of his muscles provided a pleasuring surface as you continued to grind against him, panting into his mouth.

Suddenly, you felt the fabric of your bikini top loosen, and you immediately knew that Alfie had untied the back of it without you knowing.

You squealed, pulling away, a string of saliva attached your lips still.

"Don't even try and slam me for undoing your top, your were basically riding me." He challenged, staring at you with dilated pupils and a look that told you he didn't care for any consequences right now.

"Realistically, I can't ride you standing up." You panted.

You swore you blinked and you were in the woods. After your last statement, Alfie wasted no time in dragging you into the nearby canopy of trees and pulling you down on top of him. Your knees dug into the leafy earth beneath you, staining them with indents of little twigs and grainy pattern of dirt.

He hooked his stupidly large fingers into your bikini bottoms, tugging them to the side roughly and then forcing you down onto his abs again.

You let out a breathy moan at the initial, raw contact.

"Go on, I wanna watch." He said, voice husky and tainted with arousal.

"But people might see, Alf— Alfie!" You exclaimed as he tore your bikini top off, slinging it across a log near by.

He cupped your tits with both hands, squeezing and groping them. You couldn't stop the soft sounds that slipped free from your lips. Your hips started moving of their own accord, grinding down against his hard pack of muscles.

"Oh my God—“ You breathed out as your clit hit the risen part of his abs.

"That's it, angel." Alfie muttered, still massaging your breasts, "Atta girl."

Your hands were planted on his chest, holding yourself up for as long as you could until they went shaky like jelly. He didn't like seeing you struggling to hold yourself up, so he took a hold of your wrists and moved them so they were digging into the dirt on either side of his head.

You fell forwards with a yelp, your chest flat against his as he claimed your mouth into a heated kiss yet again. He pulled away to shove his fingers in your mouth.

You hummed in pleasure around them, movements now becoming sloppy and less co-ordinated as you grew more and more tired. Your head rested on his chest, drooling onto his collarbones and fingers as you continued to hump his abdomen.

He noticed your lack of energy and effortlessly flipped you over. The earth was soft beneath you, like a natural mattress of grass and dirt. He slid his fingers out of your mouth, replacing them with his tongue instead, connecting your mouths once more.

Your knees bent, legs rising up as you kicked his swimming trunks down. Your hand reached towards him, wrapping around his dick, making him moan against your tongue. You smiled into the kiss, matching the pace of your pumping hand to the pace of your making out.

You swiped your thumb over his tip, taking his precum onto the pad of it and smearing it along his shaft. You bucked your hips up, letting him glide through your folds, both of you moaning at the contact.

His dick was now wet and slippery with your arousal, making your fist glide smoother along him as you kept pumping. Your thumb traced a vein on the underside of his cock, his hips jerking, pushing it through your hand as he practically fucked your fist.

"D'you still want me to suck you off?" You hummed against his mouth.

"I mean ... I'll never turn that down. But right now, I just need to be inside of you."

You nodded, guiding him towards your entrance. He gripped the inside of your thighs, spreading them further apart as he pushed into you. You cried out loudly, back arching off the ground.

Alfie slapped a hand over your mouth, muffling your pleasured noises.

He leaned forwards, muttering in your ear, "Y'know, considering you're so worried and whingey about someone seeing us, you're not particularly quiet. Are you?"

You stared up at him, pupils wide and dilated as you shook your head, hair dirtying as it got mixed in with the ground — not that you knew or cared in that moment.

"I know you're a screamer, but I at least thought you would've quietened down in public." Alfie pulled his hand away from your mouth, moving to cup your jaw.

Your eyebrows kissed as his tip smacked your g-spot, your legs flying up around his waist.

"Legs apart." He ordered, but you just looked up at him defiantly. He tilted his head, tongue rolling on the inside of his cheek as he smirked at you, "Or I'll stop."

Your face fell, legs falling back to the floor, spread eagle just as he told you too.

"Good girl. Knew you'd listen. Always so good for me, aren't you?" He cooed, picking up the pace.

He pulled out so that just his tip was still inside you, before bullying himself all the way back into you, fitting snugly within your walls.

"Feels so good, Alf." You whimpered, toes curling as he hit your g-spot again.

"I know, angel. Can feel your pussy tightening around me. Fucking perfect, isn't she?" His lips grazed the shell of your ear.

Your moans were loud and unfiltered as you felt your orgasm impending, causing him to bring his hand back over your mouth, muffling them. His free hand snaked down, finding your clit and strumming it rhythmically in time with his thrusts.

Your panting became loud and whiney, shaking hands reached down and patting his abdomen, urging him to slow down as he continued to ram into you. But there was no respite.

"You can take it. That's it, angel. Good girl."

You were practically sobbing into his palm, the knot in your stomach impossibly tight with the promise of an orgasm and your toes curled, borderline painfully.

"You gonna come f'me? Yeah? Can feel it, pretty girl." His hand and his pace was unrelenting, not slowing down as he kept you on the edge. "Go on, make a mess of my dick."

Your release crashed over you as you cried out into his palm, hips bucking and rolling upwards, unsure as to whether you wanted him closer or to pull out.

"Fuck ..." He hissed, pushing all the way in as he came, filling you with his seed.

Alfie collapsed to the floor next to you, turning his head to look at the sight of you, wrecked and messy with swollen lips and tear tracks down your cheeks.

He brought his thumb up, wiping a tear away and then pulling you into his side, "You okay?"

"I don't think I've ever come that hard." You panted, kissing his chest endearingly.

"Well ... now I know all you need is a bit of ordering around." He smirked, tucking your hair behind your ear. "Should've told me you were into that, girl. Would've done it earlier if you'd've asked."

"I didn't really know myself." You giggled awkwardly.

"You sure you okay? I know I kinda pushed you at the end. Did you like it or nah?"

You nodded, biting your bottom lip, "It was kinda hot. But ... if we're gonna start doing stuff like that ... can we have a safe word? Just in case I really do want you to stop."

He nodded, frowning, "Yeah, of course. I was gonna suggest that myself. As long as you're sure you like it."

You kissed his cheek, smiling at him. He reached over, grabbing your bikini top and retying it for you. You adjusted your bottoms so your sex was covered and he pulled his swimming trunks back up.

Alfie sat up against a tree, legs apart as you snuggled in between them, cheek on his chest and arms around his torso. His large, beefy arms came across your shoulders and head, making you feel safe and protected.

Some leaves crunched from across from you and your head shot up. In the line of trees was an old couple, eyeing the two of you with a suspicious look. The lady looked over your messy hair embedded with leaves and the dirt all over your knees.

You brushed it off quickly, trying to pick the leaves out of your hair and gulped before smiling nervously at her. She gave you somewhat of a dirty look when the old man spoke up.

"Have we come off the trail?"

"Uh, yeah, mate. It's back that way." Alfie nodded, pointing in the opposite direction.

"Ah, thank you, son." The old man smiled before walking on, gesturing for his wife to follow.

When they were gone, you turned to Alfie with a mortified look, despite him suppressing his laughter. You whined, hiding your face into his chest completely, trying to bury yourself into his skin to disappear from the world. He burst out laughing, wrapping his arms around your head again.

"She definitely thinks I just gave you head.

"Well, y'know what I say girl. I don't like false rumours." He smirked.

You grumbled, slapping his side, "Not funny."

"Kinda funny."

It went silent for a while, the only sound being the trees rustling from the light breeze and the birds twittering above and around you.

"So ... slops?"

"Alfie!"

[sanluvsstuff]

limerence ⋆˚꩜｡

pairing: arthur frederick x artistfem!reader

summary: you meet a guy at your local aquarium, he's cute so you give him a chance. or how you losing inspiration led you to arthur

warning/contents: None, maybe use of y/n like once, it's mostly fluff

author's notes: this has been sitting in my docs for months and i finally got the motivation to finish. it's kinda bad and very late but at least it's done. maybe kinda repetitive but oh well. hope you enjoy <3

word count: 4k+

inspiration was running low for you. it was as if all your creativity had been sucked dry. commissions were piling up and your deadlines were getting nearer and nearer. yet still you couldn’t find it in you to even pretend to pick up a pencil. staring at the screen of your drawing tablet you sighed for what felt like the millionth time. 

“i just need to start.” you mumbled to yourself, your hand coming up to roll the stylus away from you.

you'd meant to pick up the stylus a whole 3 hours ago. now, you were left scrolling through tiktok on your phone trying to distract yourself from the anxious energy building slowly in your chest. 

this wasn’t the first time art block had hit you, and sure wouldn’t be the last. yet, this was the worst possible time for it; at the peak of your year when it felt like everyone was ordering prints or paintings, you couldn't even steady your thoughts enough to draw a stick figure. 

with a frustrated huff, you pushed your chair away from the desk, the wheels squeaking faintly against the hardwood floor. the clock on the wall glared back at you — 10:00 a.m. — a reminder that yet another morning had slipped away with nothing to show for it. your inspiration, the thing that once came so effortlessly, now felt miles out of reach. you needed to find it again, and fast.

pacing toward the kitchen, your gaze landed on a brightly colored flier lying carelessly on the table. it was creased at the corners, the bold london zoo logo smiling up at you. you’d picked it up on your last visit. though for the life of you, you couldn’t remember when that even was. still, something about it tugged at you. maybe the animals in their simplicity, their wonder, could pull you out of this creative fog.

and that’s how you ended up here: sitting on a bench in front of the aquarium, sketchbook sprawled open on your lap, a pencil dangling loosely between your fingers. the gentle hum of the water filters filled the otherwise quiet space, and the faint scent of salt clung to the air.

it was noon on a random wednesday. the zoo practically deserted, leaving you alone with the gentle dance of color before you. schools of fish drifted through the glass, their fins glimmering like ribbons as they twisted and turned in lazy, elegant motions. you watched, captivated, tracing soft lines and half-formed doodles of the creatures that swam close to the edge, studying the way their bodies caught the light.

so lost in your observation, you didn’t notice the man standing at the far end of the aquarium. his reflection shifted among the drifting blues and greens, his eyes flicking toward you every few moments. he hesitated, caught somewhere between curiosity and nerves, silently rehearsing a greeting he hadn’t yet found the courage to say aloud.

you hummed a soft tune under your breath, it wasn't anything special just the last song you were listening to on the commute over here. the gentle rhythm mixed with the bubbling sound of the water filters and the faint echo of children’s laughter somewhere down the hall. the aquarium’s soft blue light painted your skin in cool tones, reflecting little ripples across your face like you were part of the ocean scene in front of you.

arthur had been standing a few meters away, pretending to read a plaque about coral bleaching for the past five minutes. he’d come here to film some quiet b-roll for an upcoming insta dump; something cozy and aesthetic to break up his usual travel content on instagram. but the moment he saw you, sitting cross-legged with your sketchbook open and your head tilted in concentration, brows furrowed, the rest of the aquarium seemed to fade into background noise.

he wasn’t even sure what it was about you that drew him in. the small frown of focus as your pencil moved, the way you occasionally tilted your head to study the fish before scribbling again, or maybe the faint hum that kept slipping past your lips, soft and melodic. whatever it was, it made him want to capture the moment, but not through his lens this time.

“alright, mate, it’s now or never,” he muttered to himself, shifting himself slightly and taking a quiet breath before stepping closer.

you didn’t notice him at first, not until a faint cough. the kind people make when they’re trying to announce their presence without actually interrupting, pulled you out of your trance. you blinked, looking up.

he was taller than you expected, framed by the soft blue glow of the tanks. his hair was a little messy from the wind, his hands tucked into his pockets. for a moment, he looked almost sheepish, caught between wanting to say something and not wanting to intrude.

“sorry,” he said, the word tumbling out with an awkward chuckle. “didn’t mean to, uh, startle you. i just—” he gestured toward your sketchbook. “you’re really good. i’ve been standing over there pretending to be fascinated by fish for about ten minutes, but really, i was just watching you draw.”

you blinked again, a small, surprised laugh leaving your lips. “that’s… honestly kind of creepy when you say it like that,” you teased, though there was a warmth behind your tone, not accusation.

he groaned softly, running a hand over his face. “yeah, fair. not my best introduction, is it?” his accent softened the self-deprecation, his grin appearing shy but genuine. “i swear i’m not a total weirdo. i’m arthur.”

you tilted your head, smiling. “arthur,” you repeated, testing the name on your tongue. “well, arthur, i’m y/n. and you’ve officially ruined my fish-studying concentration.”

he laughed, the sound light and genuine, and it echoed softly against the glass. “sorry about that. i owe you a new muse, then. maybe…” he glanced at the tank. “maybe the clownfish? he seems like a nice guy."

you raised an eyebrow. “you calling me a clown, arthur?”

“only if you’re the pretty kind,” he said before he could stop himself; and when your eyes met his, he immediately looked away, cheeks dusted pink under the blue glow.

there was a beat of silence, the air between you a quiet dance of bubbles and distant waves of filtered light.

you closed your sketchbook and shifted on the bench, motioning to the empty space beside you. “alright then, not-weirdo arthur. sit. you can tell me why you’ve decided to stalk people at the aquariums today.”

he laughed again. a little breathless this time, and took the seat beside you. close enough that you could feel the faint warmth radiating from him.

“deal,” he said. “but only if you promise not to judge me too much while i ramble.”

“no promises,” you said, smirking as your pencil danced across the page once more.

for the next few minutes, you both sat there — two strangers watching the fish drift lazily in the glass world before you, the air humming with unspoken curiosity and something softer beneath it.

and as arthur started to talk about his life, filming, traveling, and how london always seemed dull until you started looking closer. you found yourself smiling more than sketching. maybe, just maybe, your inspiration hadn’t been lost after all.

the conversation lingered long after the fish drifted away.

arthur’s voice had that kind of calm warmth that made time feel slower. like waves against the glass. you found yourself listening more than talking, your sketchbook forgotten on your lap as he spoke about the little corners of london he loved, the hidden cafés and rainy streets, the way he chased light like it was something alive.

he wasn’t boastful, not even close. if anything, he seemed a little shy about it. shrugging off his own talent, brushing over achievements like they were footnotes. every now and then, he’d laugh softly at himself, and you’d feel your own lips curve in response before you realized it.

when he finally turned the question back to you, asking about your art, your process, what made you tick, you hesitated. caught off guard by how earnestly he was listening. not nodding absently or waiting for his turn to talk, but really listening.

you told him about the commissions, the burnout, the panic that came with blank pages. how art had always been your anchor, a hobby that helped you escape and how lately it had started to feel more like a weight dragging you down.

arthur didn’t try to fix it. he didn’t throw out the usual clichés or pep talks; just looked at you thoughtfully for a moment before saying, “you know, i think the worst thing you can do to creativity is chase it. sometimes it just… needs to find you again.”

you smiled faintly. “and where exactly is it supposed to find me? tesco?”

he grinned. “maybe. or maybe here, surrounded by fish and bad lighting.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “you’re impossible.”

“persistent,” he corrected gently, eyes glinting with quiet humor.

for a while after that, you simply sat together. the silence comfortable, filled with the soft hum of the aquarium and the rhythm of passing water. you sketched a little more, just outlines and fragments, but your hand felt lighter this time.

when you finally glanced at your phone, you realized how long you’d been sitting there. the afternoon light had shifted, and so had something else; subtle, unspoken.

arthur walked you out, his steps slow like he wasn’t quite ready for the moment to end.

at the exit, he hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck again. that same endearing nervous tic. “it was nice… meeting you,” he said. “i mean, properly. not just… watching you draw like some sort of weirdo.”

you smiled. “it was nice meeting you too, not-weirdo arthur.”

he opened his mouth like he might say something else, then thought better of it and just smiled instead. small, genuine, and a little shy.

you parted ways at the edge of the car park, a soft breeze carrying the faint scent of rain. as you took the bus home, your mind felt strangely quiet. no static, no pressure, just… stillness.

and when you sat down at your desk that evening, you picked up your pencil again. the lines came easier this time. softer. freer. maybe, just maybe, your inspiration hadn’t been lost after all.

you couldn't say you expected to hear from him again. not really. people had fleeting connections in places like aquariums. quiet, temporary little moments that dissolved as quickly as bubbles in water. but two days later, when your phone buzzed and an unknown number popped up with a simple:

 arthur: it’s not technically stalking if i’m just checking if the artist from the aquarium survived her creative crisis, right?

…you found yourself grinning before you could even stop it.

 you : only mildly creepy. so i’ll allow it.

arthur : mildly? that’s improvement. i’ll take it.

 you: and yeah, i’m surviving. fish sketches everywhere. you’ve created a monster.

 arthur: my legacy lives on 🐠

from there, the texts just… didn’t stop.

he’d send you little snippets from wherever he was — sometimes a photo of a coffee cup balanced on a park bench, other times a screenshot of an editing timeline that had clearly gone on too long. you’d reply with your own: messy sketches, half-baked rants about clients, a new book you'd picked up or stories from your day.

he was funny in this dry, understated way. always slipping between self-deprecating humour and genuine kindness. and beneath it all, there was this warmth to him, like every message was sent with a quiet smile.

arthur: you ever just stare at your screen for so long you start to question every life decision that led you there?

you: every. single. day.

arthur: great. thought it was just me. glad to know my existential dread has company.

he’d been filming for a new series — travel, small local spots, the “hidden corners of the world” kind of thing. you’d joke that he was just looking for an excuse to eat pastries on camera.

you: be honest, you just want people to watch you drink beer in different postcodes.

arthur: don’t expose me like this. i’m building 'artistic credibility.'

you: you’re building a beer review channel.

arthur: tomato, tomahto.

it went on like that for weeks. easy, unforced, like finding a rhythm you didn’t realize you’d been missing.

and then, one evening, while you were binge watching a new series on your couch and he was (supposedly) editing, another message came through:

arthur: hypothetically… if one wanted to ask a very talented aquarium artist on a date, what would be the least awkward way to do that?

you: hypothetically, that depends on how bad your current attempt is.

arthur: so far, catastrophic.

you: then you’re doing great.

you paused for a moment before typing again.

you: i’d say yes, by the way.

arthur: oh. then hypothetically, friday night?

it was almost disarming, how normal it felt.

the restaurant he picked wasn’t fancy. but a cozy little corner spot tucked away on a quiet street in camden. dim lighting, soft chatter, the kind of place that smelled faintly of rosemary and baked bread.

he was already there when you arrived, fiddling with the sleeve of his jumper, no confidence in sight. just arthur; a little rumpled, a little nervous, and entirely too endearing for his own good.

“hey,” he said, standing up as soon as he saw you. his grin faltered halfway, like he wasn’t sure if it was too much. “you actually came.”

you laughed. “you say that like i’m in the habit of standing people up.”

he ran a hand through his hair, a gesture you’d noticed he did when he was flustered. “no, no, i just— i don’t know. you’re… cooler in real life. makes it more intimidating.”

you raised an eyebrow as you sat down. “you’ve met me before, arthur.”

“yes, but that time you were distracted by clownfish. i had the advantage.”

the night went on in an easy rhythm, laughter and small pauses that didn’t feel awkward. he asked about your art, and you asked about his travels. every so often, he’d fumble slightly, knocking his fork against his glass or pausing mid-sentence to find the right word. but it wasn’t the kind of awkward that made you uncomfortable, it was endearing.

he told stories about filming in tiny seaside towns with his friends that weren't exactly friends, about losing a drone in scotland (“it’s probably living a better life than me now”), and about how his editing software once deleted an entire week’s worth of footage. about his life outside of work, his family he loved so much, hobbies he'd picked up, or those that put him down. you laughed until your stomach hurt.

when the server came by to ask about dessert, he glanced at you and smirked. “only if you promise not to judge my choice.”

“depends. what are you ordering?”

“sticky toffee pudding. every time.”

you grinned. “a man of taste.”

he leaned forward, chin resting on his hand, eyes soft. “you’d be surprised how few people agree with that.”

“then they’re wrong.”

for a moment, he just looked at you. that same quiet fascination from the aquarium, but warmer now, steadier.

by the time you left, the streets were draped in that hazy glow; streetlights and puddles reflecting golden hues. you walked side by side, your shoulders brushing occasionally.

at the corner, where you’d have to part ways, he hesitated. “i, uh…” he laughed under his breath. “i’m terrible at endings. always have been.”

“then don’t make it one,” you said softly.

he smiled. that small, crooked one that reached his eyes. “deal.”

and as you turned to go, he called out after you:

“hey, y/n?”

you looked back.

“next time,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets, “i’ll take you somewhere new.”

your smile widened. “we’ll see, arthur.”

he laughed; that quiet, genuine sound you’d grown to love and for a fleeting second, you could already feel the beginnings of something real. something that didn’t need a specialist to capture it.

for arthur, it started small. little things that crept into arthur’s days. messages that came before his first coffee, random tiktoks you’d send when you couldn’t sleep, the way your name lighting up his phone seemed to make everything else a bit less grey.

his friends noticed before he did.

“mate,” bach said one afternoon during a group call, smirking at the screen, “you’ve gone quiet again. let me guess, texting your mysterious girl?”

arthur rolled his eyes, pretending to adjust his mic. “i’m editing.”

“editing my arse,” chris cut in. “you’ve been grinning at your phone like a teenager for a week straight. you even missed the pub last friday.”

arthur tried to suppress his laugh. “it’s called having a life, thank you.”

“oh, we know,” george teased. “you just prefer it in text form.”

they didn’t let him live it down. but arthur didn’t mind. not really. because between filming trips and deadlines, those messages; those quiet, unassuming little exchanges had become his favourite part of the day.

you started seeing each other more after that first date. coffee in tucked-away cafés, walks through busy markets where you’d linger at every stall, secret late-night takeout runs when both of you had too much work but still wanted to see each other.

there was something about keeping it just between you two that made it sweeter. not hidden, exactly; just yours.

he’d sneak glances at you when you weren’t looking. the way your hair caught the light, the small lines that appeared near your eyes when you laughed. you’d tease him for zoning out mid-conversation, but he couldn’t help it. you had a way of drawing his focus like nothing else.

“you’re staring again,” you’d murmur once, eyes still on your sketchbook.

“i’m… appreciating the the scenery,” he said, deadpan.

“uh-huh. sure, mr. smooth talker. you start taking lessons to sound suave?”

and then there were the quiet moments — the ones that never made it into photos or clips. like when he’d bring you tea while you were working, or when you’d sit side by side editing and pretending to read (you'd just stare at him) in silence, the hum of the city outside filling the gaps.

it was a sunday afternoon when you both ended up at the natural history museum.

the sky was overcast, pale light filtering through the massive glass roof as the two of you wandered between exhibits. you were in your element. small notebook in hand, occasionally stopping to scribble a doodle or jot something down.

arthur trailed a few steps behind, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, eyes flicking between you and the towering skeletons above. he was quiet — quieter than usual.

you stopped in front of a fossil display, squinting thoughtfully before saying,

“so technically, this guy’s been dead longer than britain’s had rain. that’s… impressive, really.”

arthur blinked, then huffed a laugh that came out more like a breath. “that’s the worst comparison i’ve ever heard.”

you shot him a grin. “and yet, you laughed.”

he did, softly. but his hands were fidgeting again, thumb brushing the edge of his sleeve. his heart had been hammering in his chest since you walked in. he’d planned it, rehearsed it even, but now, standing next to you surrounded by bones and echoes of history, the words seemed impossible.

you tilted your head. “arthur? you alright?”

he looked at you, really looked, and felt that familiar, grounding pull in his chest.

you were still smiling, still unknowingly disarming him like you always did. and suddenly, keeping it unspoken didn’t make sense anymore.

“yeah,” he said quietly, then cleared his throat. “actually, no — not really.”

your brows furrowed. “what’s wrong?”

he exhaled, words tumbling out in that slightly rushed, soft-spoken way of his.

“i’ve been… trying to ask you something for ages, but every time i think i’ve got the timing right, you make some ridiculous joke about fossils, and i lose my nerve.”

you blinked, trying not to smile. “is this your way of saying my humour’s bad?”

“god, no,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “it’s… part of why i like you so much. which— that’s actually—” he paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “that’s the thing i’ve been trying to say.”

you took a step closer, warmth creeping up your cheeks. “arthur…”

he met your eyes; hesitant, hopeful, every bit as nervous as he sounded.

“would you—” he let out a shaky laugh. “would you want to, i don’t know, be my girlfriend? properly?”

for a moment, you just looked at him. this tall-ish, awkward, sweet man who was still fidgeting with his sleeve like he could hide behind it.

and then, you smiled.

“arthur, i thought you’d never ask.”

his breath hitched just before you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a hug. he hesitated only a second before holding you back. arms wrapped tightly around you, like he was afraid to let go.

you leaned back just enough to look up at him, grinning. “and for the record, the fossil jokes stay.”

“tragic,” he murmured with a smile, and before he could say anything else, you leaned up and pressed a quick, light kiss to his lips.

he froze for a heartbeat, then melted. the feelings was even better than he could've imagined when you pulled away, he was smiling like an idiot, cheeks pink, eyes soft with disbelief.

“wow,” he breathed, voice barely above a whisper. “guess i’m dating the funniest pretend paleontologist in london.”

you laughed, looping your arm through his as you started walking again. “i’m an artist, arthur.”

“sure,” he said, grinning. “artist. amateur dinosaur expert. my girlfriend.”

and with that you both wandered beneath the ancient bones and soft museum light, his hand brushed yours — tentative at first, then sure, fingers intertwining like it had been meant to happen all along.

[luvbuttlestv]

YOU’RE MY MUSE— arthur frederick ┊ ➶ ｡˚  °𖥔 ݁ ˖

m.masterlist | taglist: @bambilenny @reidnweeptv @iamemiliatv @pookietv @thankyoulovely @livvytv @writer-jamie

backstory: your an artist who’s been facing a lot a difficulty lately, it feels like you’re losing the spark but it doesn’t last long with arthur — then you realise you’ve found a muse in colour. 

content warning: none, fluff xx possibly very cringe 😬 

a/n: i thought this would be quite cute, it’s kinda short but styll hope yous enjoy x

—THE LIGHT IN the flat was the kind that didn’t know if it wanted to stay. half-gray, half-gold, the kind that made the air feel like dust and tea steam. y/n sat in the middle of it, surrounded by canvases that stared back at her like disappointed friends. days. maybe weeks now, nothing came out right. every sketch looked tired. every color mixed into another shade of beige. she’d tried everything — walks by the thames, new brushes, even a playlist called “creative resurrection.” nothing.

she stared at her most recent failure, a half-finished portrait of no one in particular — and sighed.

then her phone buzzed.

arthur: hey, still alive? or have the paints claimed you entirely

y/n smiled despite herself.

you: maybe i’ve turned into a gremlin that lives off acrylic fumes

arthur: tragic. do gremlins fancy coffee?

-

she met arthur six months ago at a friend’s flatwarming, where he’d been balancing a glass of cheap prosecco and an argument about reality tv with equal enthusiasm. he’d made her laugh, the kind that came out in bursts she couldn’t hold back. he’d asked about her art, and actually listened. he was kind and sweet, also very smart with interesting quite random facts he’d pull out in awkward situations which made her giggle. they’d started texting, then hanging out, and somehow quietly, naturally — it became something more.

now, sitting across from him in their usual coffee shop, she watched him talk about some video idea, gesturing with his hands, the soft curls on his head bouncing and blowing from the open window. 

“you’re not listening,” he said suddenly, half-smiling. “no, i am,” she lied. “you were ranting about—”

“the amount of rose toys i got during the tour..” he cuts her off with a tilt of his head. she laughed, almost spilling her flat white. his smile softened “seriously though, what’s going on in that head of yours? you look… far away.” she hesitated. “just… artist block, i guess.” he leaned forward a little. “still?” she nodded. “yeah. i keep trying, but everything i make feels empty. like i forgot how to feel things properly.” he frowned, thinking. “that’s not true.” she simply shrugged, staring down at her coffee “ feels like it.” “you’re probably just thinking too much. you always do, not even in a bad way but maybe try something different, don’t plan on what to draw or paint next—just something you actually like.”

she snorted. “like what, you?”

“obviously,” he said without missing a beat. “i’d make an excellent muse. very paintable jawline.” “you’re impossible.”she rolls her eyes with a soft grin “no, i’m muse-material.” he smirks.

she laughed it off then, but later that night, when she was sitting by her window watching the london lights blink awake, she caught herself thinking about his face. not the obvious things? not the sharp jawline he was joking about, or his eyes — but the tiny expressions between sentences. the way his lips curved when he tried not to smile, the creases near his temples when he was thinking too hard.

without meaning to, she picked up a pencil.

just one quick sketch.

and then another.

and another.

by the time she looked up, it was 2 a.m., and her floor was covered in pages, soft lines, little details, half-smiles. all of him. maybe it was a little creepy but it surprised her on how it well it worked out.

the next few weeks felt like waking up after a long sleep. colors started making sense again. every brushstroke felt alive, every canvas like it was breathing. she painted morning light on coffee cups, hands caught mid-gesture, sweaters half-rolled at the sleeves — all the tiny, ordinary things that reminded her of him. he didn’t know. she didn’t tell him and wasn’t sure if she should. part of her liked keeping it secret. her private proof that she could still feel. but art has a way of revealing what it wants to. 

it happened on a sunday. he came over with pastries and a lopsided grin, saying, “you can’t live on tea and existential dread alone.” “i could try.”

“ehh not on my watch.” he snickered. 

arthur wandered around while she tidied the living room — which meant he was absolutely going to poke at every canvas within reach. “can i look?” he asked, already looking. “depends which one.” but he’d already stopped in front of a large canvas near the window. the one she’d finished the night before. it wasn’t an exact portrait, not really, but it was him. the soft way he looked at her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. the kind of warmth that wasn’t about light, but about presence.

she froze.

he didn’t say anything at first. just stared. then turned toward her with that half-smile — quieter, this time. “is this… me?” “uh.” she rubbed the back of her neck. “sort of. i mean— it’s not, like, literally you. i was just—”

“y/n.”

she looked up.

he was smiling, small and real. “it’s beautiful.” she blinked. “you’re not freaked out?” 

“why would i be? you made me look like i’m worth painting.”

“you are,” she said before she could stop herself. his eyes softened.

“come here,” he said.

she did.

he took her paint-smudged hand pulling her in for a kiss. it was unexpected and her heart was beating a million times per second but she wasn’t complaining either. the kiss was warm and comforting — as if all the feelings built up between the two were let go in a single kiss. he pulled away slowly, staring into her eyes with adoration in his eyes. “you know, i wasn’t joking before. about wanting to be your muse.”she laughed, nervous and giddy. “you’d get bored sitting still for that long.” he shook his head and shrugged. “how d’you know? i sit in my bedroom for hours with a camera in my face — i’m sure i’ll get used to it quick” 

[buttlesbunnie]

SCREAM ! ── a.buttle ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

summary : halloween parties are always eventful content : smut , vaginal sex , fingering , oral (f & m receiving) , multiple positions , manhandling , rough sex , mirror sex, dom!alfie , unprotected sex (don't do this) , squirting , degradation & praise kink , dumbification kink (???) idk he’s just mean notes : OH WE ARE SO BACK CHAT. i'm remaking my taglist since my old account got hacked so just comment of DM me to be added xx

─────── THE MUSIC AROUND you was loud and pulsating. You were nursing some form of coke and alcoholic mixture from a plastic cup your friend had given you. There were smoke machines filtering grey fogs around the room, adding to the atmosphere of 'get intoxicated, get fucked, we don't care'.

You were originally freezing when you'd left the house, the short, frilly white skirt and matching white corset doing nothing to keep you warm, but once you'd gotten inside the club, all was fixed as the alcohol warmed you from the inside out and the heat of everybody's bodies kept you warm too.

There was a cheap pocket watch hanging from your waist, a blue bow strapped around your neck and fluffy white ears perched a top your head, an attempt at serving some sort of white rabbit look from Alice in Wonderland. You didn't want to go out and buy a whole new costume for one night, so you just raided yours and your friends' wardrobes until you found something that resembled the White Rabbit well enough for people to not ask questions.

Your whole friend group had gone for the Alice in Wonderland theme, Lola choosing to go for the Mad Hatter, Kate being the Cheshire Cat and Maddie being Alice herself.

After being on the dancefloor for longer than your feet could handle, you slumped back in the booth you'd left your stuff at, mildly sweaty and panting as you all leaned into each other, laughing and breathless.

It was then, with wandering eyes, that you spotted a man with attractiveness you'd never quite witnessed before.

He was dressed in black jeans, black air force and a black compression shirt that made his biceps look like they were being strangled by the hem of his sleeves. On the table in front of him was a Ghostface mask, presumably his as the rest of his friends had costumes on that did not appear to be Scream-like at all.

You took a sip of your drink, looking at him over the rim of it, nearly choking on the liquid when he met your eyes.

You cupped underneath your chin in case you spilt any drink, putting the cup back down. He chuckled slightly, amused at the action. You blushed, using the back of your hand to wipe the underside of your chin. The alcohol was rushing through you at this point, enhancing your confidence without making you uncoordinated.

Slyly, you wiped the corner of your mouth with your thumb, picking up a drip of rum and coke, and popped it in your mouth, making sure to stare him down while doing so.

You saw his Adam's apple bob with the intensity of his gulp, especially as you then went on to roll your tongue on the inside of your cheek, sending him a gesture of a suggestive nature.

After leaving him stunned and slightly hard (not that you could tell from where you were) you turned back to your friends, just talking and gossiping, throwing compliments around to girls that passed by.

"I'm gonna have a vape outside!" You said loudly so that your friends could hear you over the music.

"Okay! Do you want us to come with?!"

"No, it's fine." You shook your head before getting up and leaving.

The cold, October air bit at your revealed skin, causing goose bumps to prickle along your arms. You sucked the lemon and lime flavoured air into your mouth, inhaling and then blowing it back out. You leaned back against the wall, yelping at how cold the bricks were. Some eyes were drawn to you and your cheeks became flushed.

"Sorry." You chuckled nervously.

You stayed outside for a few more minutes before getting enough of the freezing cold and loneliness. Just as you kicked off the wall, someone came past you, latching onto your bicep and pulling you backwards down the side road.

"What the fuck—!"

Your back hit the wall, a firm hand clamped over your mouth. Your eyes were wide, pupils dilated as you stared up at the masked figure above you. If you stared hard enough, you could just about make out a pair of green iris' beneath the black mesh fabric covering the eye holes.

"You make blow job gestures to everyone in a club or am I just special?"

A smirk grew on your face beneath his hand, and you reached out, pulling the Ghostface mask away, holding it beside you. His hand left your mouth, leaning on the wall beside your head.

You turned your head, admiring the sight of his bicep so close to you. With your free hand, you held onto it, humming, "You're just special."

"Yeah, bet I am." He smirked, looking you up and down, "What are you supposed to be, some kind of porno bunny?"

You scoffed, "I'm the White Rabbit, from Alice in Wonderland," You pointed to your bunny ears and then the pocket watch dangling from your waist, "Duh."

"Didn't realise the White Rabbit had a rack on her." He muttered, clearly ogling your chest.

"Perv." You hummed.

"I'm the perv? You're the one giving me fuck-me-eyes across the club and gesturing that you're gonna suck me off." He laughed, "I'm holding you to that, by the way." His voice lowered, lips grazing your ear.

You turned your head, the pair of you now a breath away from kissing, "Are you now?"

"Yeah." He nodded, top lip catching yours in a teasing skim, "Want a kiss?"

"Hm," You pretended to think, "Only if it's from you."

"Good thing there's no one else offering, I'd have to smash their face in."

You giggled at his possessive words before latching your lips onto his. He returned the kiss with the same fervour, pressing you back into the wall, as if trying to merge your bodies together.

His hand travelled down your body, grabbing your thigh and hitching your leg around his waist. This caused your skirt to rise up a bit, him pressing his hips forwards.

You gasped at the feeling of him, hard against your thigh.

"What's your name?" He asked, pulling back for a moment.

"Reader. Yours?"

"Alfie."

"Nice to meet you, Alfie." You smiled against his mouth.

"Likewise, gorgeous."

─────── YOU ENDED UP back at his hotel room, flat on your back, bare from the waist down with his head between your thighs. You bit down on your lip, conscious of the people above and to the side of you. His tongue slid through your folds, a collection of your arousal and his saliva spreading all over your sex.

"Alfie," You whined, bucking your hips up into his mouth.

He slapped your outer thigh and then pinned your hips to the mattress, sucking your clit firmly. Your thigh squeezed on either side of his head, desperate to bring him impossibly closer. One of your hands was buried in his hair, tugging at the floppy curls on top of his head while the other scrunched the fabric of the pillow beneath your head.

You turned your head to the side, staring at the highly erotic scene of his face buried in your pussy and your legs over his shoulders through the mirror.

He took notice of where you were looking, taking a peek for himself and smirking at the sight. You looked down at him, making eye contact as he disgustingly spat onto your sex.

Alfie brought his hand up, teasing your entrance momentarily before slipping two fingers into you. You moaned loudly, head pressing back into the pillow, back bowing off the bed, and heels digging into his shoulder blades.

Then, it came. The intense build-up in your stomach followed, making your face screw up and harsh pants leave your mouth as his tongue flicked rapidly over your clit, giving you no respite. High-pitched gasps caught in your throat as your thighs trembled.

"Oh- Oh, fuck—" You slapped a hand over your mouth, moaning into it as you came around his fingers.

He groaned against you, lifting himself up onto knees. His hand came down onto your pussy harshly, making you yelp. You lifted your leg, smacking the side of his head with your foot.

"Rude—“ Your words were finalised for you as he grabbed your ankles, dragging you further down the bed and flipping you onto your front.

Alfie's body loomed intimidatingly over yours, his chest pressed to your back as he spoke lowly into your ear, "I'm gonna fuck you, and then you're gonna suck me off, and then I'm gonna fuck you again, got it?"

You nodded, completely and utterly turned on at the dominance he held himself with. Everything about him was so attractive, from his face, to his body, to his voice, and most definitely the way he was in bed.

"Keep your head in the pillow." He growled before kissing your cheek, the complete juxtaposition throwing you off slightly.

Alfie grabbed your hips, pulling them upwards so your ass was arched into the air, your back forming a perfect slope.

You watched in the mirror as he tugged his jeans boxers off, his thick cock bouncing back and slapping his abs. He wasted no time in lining himself up with your entrance, slowly pushing in.

Once again, your hand gripped the pillow for dear life as you moaned unabashedly into it.

"Shut the fuck up," He grunted, landing a stinging slap to your ass, "You want someone to file a noise complaint and then get walked in on? Hm?"

You shook your head, blushing at the way he spoke to you. You didn't know if it was because you found yourself getting more and more turned on by the minute, or because part of you was slightly embarrassed (and aroused) at how easily he was able to make you comply.

"No? That's what I thought."

You couldn't help but push back into him, meeting his hips halfway. You whimpered at the connection, turning your head so your face was completely buried in the pillow.

"Yeah, that's right." He grunted as he rammed into you, hip bones smacking into your flesh, "Fuck yourself on my dick, angel. Good girl."

You clenched around him at the praise. It didn't seem to matter what he did, whether it was belittling you or praising you, it all seemed to turn you on.

"Fuck, you like anything don't you?" Alfie chuckled, picking up on the way you tightened around him, "You're so tight, you feel fucking amazing."

He pulled out so that just the tip was inside, before pushing all the way back in, nestling snugly within your gummy walls.

His hand found your hair, grabbing it at the roots and pulling your head up. It hurt a little, but you didn't mind. His other hand grabbed a pillow, placing it down where your hips would be before borderline throwing you back down onto the mattress so you were now flat, apart from your hips, which were slightly elevated due to the cushioning beneath them.

"Move your leg—" He grabbed your shin, adjusting your leg so it was bent, hitched up. "That's it."

He pressed his hand back into your hair, forcing your head down as his thrusts became rapid and unforgiving.

Your moans couldn't be contained, squeals and choked sobs spewing free into the pillow as he kept you face down.

"Shit, you're perfect, Reader." He hissed down your ear, his chiselled chest scraping along your back.

His lips found your shoulder, planting soothing kisses as he felt his own orgasm approaching.

"I'm close, are you?" He pulled your head up off the pillow so you could answer him clearly.

"Yes! Fuck, Alfie—!”

"Good." He dropped your head back down, maintaining this perfect pace he'd found.

His hand left your hair, snaking around your waist and finding your clit. Your hips jolted up, meeting him mid-thrust by accident. Coincidentally, you ended up finishing at the same time. You felt yourself fill with his seed as your walls spasmed around him.

You could’ve sworn he moaned as he came, but you were too focused on the repositioning of your body to really comprehend it. Next thing you knew, you were on top of him, kissing him hungrily.

His hands grabbed at your back, finding the zipper of your corset and pulling it down so your chest was bared to him.

“Fuck, everything about you is perfect.” He muttered, cupping your breast in his hand. He massaged it gently, a soft moan fluttering free from your lips. "Now, put that perfect mouth to use."

You kissed him again before going down, lathering his chest in your kisses, specifically his abs, which you licked a straight line up the centre of them.

You wrapped your hands around his length, stroking it a few times before descending your lips around it. He weighed heavy on your tongue, as expected by the size and girth of him. You held the base of his dick in your hands while bobbing your head back forth, coating it in your saliva and running your tongue along the prominent vein that was on the underside.

"Fuck, ain't you talented?" Alfie cursed lowly, bunching your hair into a ponytail and guiding your movements how he liked it. "Done this before?"

You pulled off, replacing your mouth with your hand so you could speak, "Only twice."

"Shit, really?" He seemed surprised by your lack of experience.

You nodded, "Ex."

"Fuck, he was a stupid prick to let you go."

"Well, now you've got me, so be grateful." You cocked your head before kitten licking the tip and swirling your tongue around it.

His hips jolted at the motion, forcing himself down your throat with no warning. You gagged around him, but took him welcomingly, returning to that repetitive back and forth motion.

You pointed to the Ghostface mask that was strewn carelessly on the bedside table.

"What? You want me to wear it?"

You nodded.

He chuckled, "Alright then." And then put it on, covering his face. "Better?"

You nodded again.

You continued to suck him off for the next couple of minutes, until he was basically shaking beneath you, trying to supress his need to throat-fuck you so he would come faster.

It got to the point where was sick of your teasing, pushing your head off and proceeding to wank himself off in front of you. You giggled at his impatience, tongue darting out to caress his tip.

He came abruptly, painting your tongue with salty, white streams. You took it perfectly, swallowing it down when he was done.

“Good girl.” He grunted, tucking your hair behind your ears and lifting you back up so you were lying on the bed.

He kissed you again, merging your mouths together once more. You felt his cock graze your entrance, causing you to gasp. He used this to his advantage, sliding his tongue into your mouth while simultaneously pushing into you.

You whimpered against him at the stretch, nails clawing into his shoulders. Your hands ran over the expanse of his back, feeling along his muscles.

“You’re so hot.” You mumbled, unable to control the switch between your brain and your mouth.

You yelped at a particularly sharp thrust, his cock nudging your g-spot perfectly.

“Oh, fuck, right there.” You whined.

He pulled back, hands hooking under your knees and bringing them up, pinning them to either side of your body. You were completely exposed to him now, and there was no chance of shying away.

Alfie looked down at the sight of him splitting you open, “You’re so pretty.” He muttered before letting a wad of spit fly from his mouth and land directly on your clit.

Your suppressed moan formed a high-pitched whimper of sorts, making him smirk.

He pulled out, running his dick through your folds, it being coated in your slickness. He tapped the head of it on your clit a few times, making you squirm beneath him, before sheathing himself back inside of you.

His thrusts became more punishing and relentless as he picked his pace. Him having your legs up and out only caused you to feel him deeper, a consistent string of moans leaving your mouth as you could’ve sworn you felt every vein and every ridge of him grazing your walls.

He let one of your legs go, moving back so he was leaning directly over you, planting his palm on your mouth to dull your noises.

“What did I say, hm?” Alfie muttered, voice husky and dangerous.

“B-Be quiet.” Your voice came out muffled against his hand.

“So why the fuck are you making noise?” He scoffed, “I’m starting to think you want someone to walk in on us.”

You couldn’t help but clench around him, not because you were aroused at the thought of that, but because it only made your adrenaline run faster.

“You do, don’t you?”

“N-No.”

“No?”

You shook your head, staring up at him, wide eyed.

“I should put those bunny ears back on your head and make you work for it.”

You sniffled, shaking your head again, your hair a mess beneath you, “‘M sorry.”

“You’re sorry? Yeah, you will be.”

He buried his face into the crook between your shoulders and neck, sucking the flesh above your collarbone as his hips pistoned in and out of you rapidly. His fingers found your clit, rubbing haphazard circles over it just to tease you even more. His other hand remained firmly over your mouth.

He pulled a hand up, tugging the mask off and throwing it onto the floor, “‘S too hot for that shit.”

There was no breathing space away from him. You were consumed by him. He was all around you; inside you, legs tangled with yours, lips on your skin, a hands on your hips. It was him that was bringing you to your third orgasm of the night.

"Alfie!" You cried out at the tension inside of you, more intense than ever before.

"Come for me, angel." Alfie grunted down your ear.

Your nails scraped down his back, leaving red streaks in their wake. The lines criss-crossed over his back, reaching all the way down to the dip in his spine as you desperately clawed at him, chest heaving from the force of your breaths as the coil in your stomach tightened impossibly more. Tears welled in your eyes at the feeling, not from pain, but overwhelming pleasure.

The fingers on your clit became more precise and targeted, pressing down firmly with each swipe until you were spasming around him once more. Your thighs were trembling uncontrollably as clear liquid splattered down them and onto Alfie's abdomen. Your hips naturally rolled upwards, chasing the thing that was pleasuring you.

He himself groaned as he came again, pumping into you once more before falling slack beside you.

"Didn't know bunnies could squirt like that." He panted, looking at you with a teasing glint in his eye.

"I'm supposed to be a rabbit."

"You're a fucking mess." He corrected, dragging you into him by your bicep so you were splayed across his chest.

He landed another smack on your bottom before resting his hand at your hip.

"Gonna let me get your number?"

"You think I'm letting you go after that?" You scoffed, "You're getting my number, my Instagram, and my snapchat. Maybe even my mums Facebook, if you're lucky."

"Cheeky. Gonna let me see baby pictures of you before the first date? That's proper intimate, that."

"You were just inside of me." You deadpanned.

"You're not lying about that, girl."

[buttlesbunnie]

hi lovely, i’m not too sure if you are mutuals with this writer or not

but i’m not sure if they have also been hacked or smth but it’s just because i got a message from them(never spoken before)

(i’m sending this to you just because you are both writers within the same community so i would guess you have a lot of mutual followers)

i just wanted to know since they haven’t said anything about it, and also in case other people didn’t know.

if not just ignore this!!🤍

hi my love!! i do know this writer, in my experience (sigh, lol) it’s the scam. i got a message saying ‘hi can we talk’ or something along those lines and it was very ominous. defo just ignore this bby she’s probably been hacked unfortunately xx

[buttlesbunnie]

hi guyss it’s minnie, my old account got hacked unfortunately so i’ve had to make this new one :(( i’m so sorry to all the request that got sent there that i can’t do anymore, feel free to send them back over here and i’ll get them done. hopefully everyone can find their way to this account

mutuals if you can reblog this to help spread the word that would be great :)

[josephdrws]

how yall will find me if riara happens in s5

[buttlesbunny]

NO MONEY ──  c.dixon  ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

summary : in which you do the ‘i cant help pay the bills trend’ on your boyfriend, chris a/n : sorry for there not being the inside part3, idk when it’ll be out because i have so many little one shot ideas rn but yeah! also og idea goes to @georgeclarkeys thank you for letting me use your idea!🫶🏼 this is quite short but i hope it’s okay x content : established relationship ,, innuendos & chris being dirty

─────── THE SOUND OF the tv played throughout the apartment as you shared the sofa space with Arthur Hill. George was currently out on a date with someone and Chris was doing some sort of content filming in his room, so you gave him the space he needed and yourself in the living room.

Some crappy soap was playing, neither of you paying attention to it as you were both scrolling on your phones.

Your doomscrolling came to an intriguing end as Faith’s tiktok video game up, one of her telling Ethan she couldn’t contribute to the bills for the month, resulting in him just kind of blankly staring at her and laughing.

You turned your phone to Arthur, “What if I did this on Chris?”

He chuckled and nodded, “Please do it.”

You smirked mischievously, standing up off the couch and shuffling towards Chris’ room. Your fluffy sock-clad feet slipped along the wooden floor smoothly and you knocked.

“Yeah?!”

You started recording on your phone, making sure the flash was off and opened the door, “Chris? I just need to talk to you about something.”

“Yeah, sure, lovely.” He removed his headset so that it was resting around his neck and looked up at you with full interest.

“I just needed to tell you that I can’t help pay the bills this month.” You muttered, playing the ashamed, bashful role incredibly well.

Chris blinked up at you with a blank look on his face, “Uh … what?”

“The bills. I don’t have enough money to put towards the bills, so I’ll just do it for next month instead.”

He snorted, covering his mouth with his knuckles, “Sorry, when have you ever helped pay the bills?”

“Well …” Shit. He was right. And that wasn’t because you were selfish and made him pay, no. It was because he was adamant that you didn’t need to spend a penny on the bills, not when he was already ‘rolling in it’. His words, not yours. “I wanted to start.”

“Yeah, and I’ve already told you I’m not letting you.” Chris laughed, not taking this seriously at all.

“Chris, it’s not funny.” You suppressed your own laughter, “I can’t contribute any money.”

This time, he actually cackled at your whiny voice, “You have never paid the bills on this apartment in our entire relationship, why do you think I would suddenly care if you have no money to help contribute?”

“I just thought I’d tell you.” You shrugged.

“Okay, well don’t.” He sassed, “Just shush, yeah? I don’t expect you—“

“Chris!” You gasped at his attitude, chuckling slightly.

“What?!” His voice raised slightly in a playful manner, “What do you want me to do, bend you over my knee and spank you? Like, what?”

“Okay, well now you’re being inappropriate.” You huffed with fake dramatics, glancing down at your phone, making sure his face was in frame.

“You’d like it though.” Chris smirked, hands moving back to his headset, “Can I go back to editing this video now so that I can pay the bills so you don’t have to?”

“You’re too sassy.” You grumbled, walking out and stopping the recording.

You skipped back over to the sofa and replayed the video to Arthur, who laughed at it and told you to post it, which you did, making sure to tag Chris.

comments:

chrismd.official ffs i should’ve known

↳ willne it’s your own fault for not noticing the massive fucking phone in her hand. it’s bright blue lad.

↳ chrismd.official too distracted by her beautiful face x

↳ yourusername ergh…

user1 i love her she’s so funny☠️

user2 HELP? THE SPANKING THING???

user3 it’s so obvious they get down and dirty, despite him being a tiny little man

↳ yourusername he does it on stilts

↳ chrismd.official it’s just not true though is it

↳ georgeclarkeey he has a little trampoline to help him get up on the bed, i’ve seen it in their wardrobe

user4 iconic couple

user5 surprised he found someone shorter than him to be honest with you

↳ yourusername im pushing 6’0

↳ arthurhill69 you’re 5’3

user6 chris’ search history a year ago: ‘how to get the girl that’s shorter than me, funnier than me and hotter than me’

faithlouisak why do men always get so sexual with it😒😒

↳ yourusername men☕️

↳ behzinga ????

↳ chrismd.official what??

user7 ‘okay well dont’ gosh why is he part of the sassy man apocalypse

[moonsprcngs]

Heyy girlie 💗😭 could you write a fic where arthur and his gf have been together for a few months. One day she's chilling in his flat w him and one thing leads to another and they get freaky. But when arthur starts to unbutton her jeans she hesitantly tells him she's done stuff but is a virgin and then he reassures her and she wants to do it s they do it hehe

thank u for the rq angel!

mdni, 18+ !!!

summary: reader tells arthur she's a virgin.

contains established relationship, fluff, and allusions to smut (not all the way there but it's heavily implied duh).

arthur frederick x fem! reader ⏦ﾟ♡︎

it was one of those nice, slow afternoons at arthur's place.

nothing to do, no editing or last minute voiceovers to complete, and arthur was done with filming for the next few days.

you were lounging in bed together, your lips pressed together in slow, intoxicating movements that were so innocent yet so hungry all at once.

arthur's hands were gripping gently at your waist, his smooth palms tracing their way up to your ribcage from underneath your—his—hoodie, and he couldn't fight the smile growing against your mouth.

"i've got to say, sweetheart, that jumper looks better on you than it ever did on me."

you giggle, a sweet and gentle sound muffled by his smile and swallowed by his mouth as you murmur in between kisses in a softly teasing manner. "you gonna let me keep it?"

"i'm never letting you take it off," he whispered, his lips kissing from your mouth to your cheek and down to your jawline.

he pressed gentle, open-mouthed kisses across your jaw and down to your neck, his teeth grazing over your pulse point as you let out a tiny gasp.

you'd made out with each other before, obviously, but this time felt—different. there was no rush, no awkward giggles, and there was an unfamiliar heat pooling in the pit of your stomach.

"arthur."

your hand came up into his hair, tangling into the strands as you held him close to your neck, your name on his lips like the softest praise he'd ever heard as your hips involuntarily pushed up into his.

he groaned softly against your skin, sucking a mark into the base of your neck that would definitely be more prominent in the morning.

"you're so pretty, you know that? you're so fucking pretty."

he spoke against your skin like you were an angel, your other hand that wasn't in his hair now running down his back, feeling across his toned shoulder blades.

"arthur—one second—"

this time, his name slipped out as more of a warning as you bit down on your bottom lip, trying to suppress a moan at his words.

he pulled away from your neck immediately, his soft gaze landing on your face as he spoke, gentler than ever. "yeah, lovely?"

the words were right at the tip of your tongue yet simultaneously stuck at the back of your throat. there was a hint of insecurity in your eyes, and your ever-so perfect boyfriend picked up on it immediately.

"you okay?" he asked softly, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair away from your face. "you wanna stop? we don't have to do this right now."

you shook your head, giving yourself a minute to form the words before you spoke again. "it's not that. it's—i—" you cut yourself off again, slightly frustrated at your lack of ability to communicate what you so desperately needed to say.

"hey, take your time, angel. talk to me, what's up?"

you took a deep breath, your hand coming up to trace over his features with your fingertip, scared he might slip away. he was just too perfect.

"i've—i've never done this before."

arthur completely softens at your words. he nods, just a gentle dip of his head, barely there, as he tilts his head to confirm. "never?"

he's not making fun of you. he never would, he just wants to clarify, to confirm that what you said was what he understood.

"never," you say again, your voice softer this time, almost shy. "but i want this. i want you. i trust you."

he almost melts at your voice. you sound so soft, so angelic, so innocent, and he bites the inside of his lip as if he's thinking hard. as if you're a piece of delicate artwork that he's hesitant to taint. but he snaps out of it, nodding his head like the decision was easy.

"yeah?"

"yeah."

he kisses you again then, his lips soft and gentle and kind, and he tastes so much like him it makes you dizzy. he whispers against your lips, so quietly it was barely audible. "thank you for trusting me. this means a lot to me."

arthur wraps his arms behind your back, lifting you slightly and adjusting you to lay properly against the pillows, prioritising your comfort above anything else.

"that's it, sweetheart. you just lay back for me and let me take care of you, how's that sound?"

[fawnme1]

ooh maybe an arthur x shy soft cutipie reader? they’re very close friends and are roommates and they always are quiet affectionate with each other? idk just want some cute fluff. like them cuddling or something and he confesses and she’s just so oblivious

SWEETHEARTS arthurtv .˚꩜ .ᐟ

summary; the request.

an; i love this. also i wrote this quietly and slowly tapping my keyboard in the car from london lmao.

The flat was quiet, save for the gentle hum of Arthur’s laptop and the occasional click of his mouse. You sat curled into the corner of the shared couch, oversized jumper sleeves tugged over your hands, legs tucked beneath you. The room smelled faintly of his cologne and the cherry candle you’d lit earlier — something cozy and warm that felt like him.

Arthur sat beside you, slightly hunched, editing a video. You liked watching him work. He was focused, tongue poking out slightly, brow furrowed in concentration. He looked up every now and then, usually when you shifted or yawned, just to smile at you.

You didn’t notice the way his eyes lingered.

“You tired, sweetheart?” he asked softly, voice low and teasing.

Your cheeks warmed instantly. You still weren’t used to the pet names, even though he’d called you that a hundred times before.

“Mhm. Just comfy,” you mumbled, voice muffled in your sleeve.

He grinned and nudged your knee with his. “Wanna come here, then?”

You blinked up at him.

“Hm?”

Arthur closed his laptop with one hand and opened his other arm wide. “Cuddle break.”

Your heart skipped. This wasn’t unusual. Not really. You and Arthur had always been close; sharing blankets, leaning on each other during movie nights, falling asleep shoulder to shoulder on long flights. He’d started calling you sweetheart sometime last month. You weren’t sure why. But you weren’t about to complain.

You shuffled closer, carefully, like you always did. Arthur looped his arm around you and pulled you in until your head rested against his chest. He was warm and solid and smelled like fresh laundry and shampoo.

You exhaled, small and content.

“Better?” he murmured, voice close to your ear.

You nodded. “Mhm.”

He chuckled. “You’re such a little thing. Can barely even tell you’re there.”

You pouted but didn’t respond. Your fingers fiddled with the hem of his sleeve instead, brushing against his hand. He didn’t pull away.

You stayed like that for a while. Quiet. Close. Breathing in sync. His thumb rubbed gentle circles into your shoulder. You thought he probably didn’t even realise he was doing it.

Arthur did realise.

He noticed everything.

Like how your eyelashes fluttered when you were sleepy. Or how you always brought him a tea when he was filming late. Or the way your face lit up when he laughed at something you said, like you weren’t used to being funny.

He’d been in love with you for months.

But he hadn’t said anything. Because you were shy, and soft, and the idea of startling you out of your comfort zone made his stomach twist.

Still.

Maybe tonight.

Maybe just—

“Hey,” he said, low and careful. “Can I tell you something?”

You tilted your head to look at him. “Mmhm?”

He smiled faintly, hand resting over yours. “You know how I always call you sweetheart?”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah…?”

“It’s not just like… a random nickname,” he said, watching you closely. “I mean it. You’re, uh. You’re kind. And gentle. And you always make me feel like I’m home when I’m with you.”

Your brows pinched. “Arthur…”

“I guess I just.. I really like you,” he said, softer now, almost nervous. “More than a roommate. More than a best friend.”

Silence.

You blinked at him.

Then: “You… like me?”

He laughed under his breath, brushing a piece of hair from your face. “Yeah, angel. I’ve been flirting with you for months.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait— really?”

He looked genuinely surprised. “You didn’t notice?”

You shook your head. “I thought you were just… nice.”

Arthur let out a groan and dropped his forehead onto your shoulder, muffling a laugh there.

“I’ve literally called sweetheart every day, made you tea in bed, watched five seasons of that baking show you love even though I hate fondant — and you thought I was just being nice?”

You giggled, feeling your face go up in flames. “You’re always nice!”

Arthur lifted his head, eyes soft and amused. “Alright then. I’ll say it properly.”

He reached for your hand, lacing your fingers with his.

“I like you. A lot. I’d really like to kiss you. But only if you want me to.”

Your breath hithced. You were pretty sure your heart was going to burst.

“…Can I think about it for like, three seconds?” you whispered.

Arthur smiled, patient and fond. “Take your time, sweetheart.”

You leaned up, just a little, and pressed your lips to his cheek.

“I’d really like to kiss you,” you mumbled against his skin.

His smile turned into a grin, and he gently titled your chin toward him.

Then, finally, he kissed you. Slow, warm, steady. Like he’d been waiting forever and didn’t mind taking his time.

When you pulled away, breathless and stunned, Arthur kissed your forehead and pulled you back into his chest.

“Still comfy?” he whispered.

You nodded, heart thudding. “Very.”