' to be known the way you
should is to put yourself
through hell '
sacrificial angel ,
dirty slut with needs
minnie ૮꒰ྀི ꒱ྀིა. she/her. 8teen. daughter of cain && sparkle jump rope queen. cabin ten angel. gold jewellery. long brown hair && big brown eyes combo. alfie buttle's mrs. certified ukyt tumblr morgan burwtisle lover. midlands bby. mixed. minnie is deer angel coded — nell , 2026 x
( 18+ only for smuts. dead dove content does exist on my blog, proceed with caution. )
( no i don’t think i have a chance with any of the people i write about, that’s why i write about it instead of deluding myself into thinking it’s possible xx )
masterlist ! requesting rules & blog info ! anons !
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content - established relationship, seizures, fluff
notes - something a little different but i wanted to give this condition some representation
wc - 1,300
When you first started dating, epilepsy was one of the things you were most nervous to tell him about.
You'd had it your whole life. As far back as you could remember, medications, hospital appointments, neurologists, and seizure plans had been woven into you everyday routine. To you, it was normal, sometimes inconvenient, but normal.
To other people, though, it wasn't.
So when things with Alfie started becoming serious, you'd spent days worrying about how he'd react.
Instead, he'd listened carefully, asked questions, and learned everything he could.
Now, eleven months later, it had become a routine neither of you wanted but both knew how to handle.
Right now, the two of you were curled up on the sofa in his bedroom, a blanket was tangled around your legs, the room illuminated only by the war glow of a lamp in the corner and the flickering light of the television.
Some action film played in the background, though neither of you had paid much attention to it for the last twenty minutes. The takeaway menu currently held far more importance.
"You're not getting pineapple on the pizza," Alfie declared, scrolling through options on his phone.
"I absolutely am."
"You are a menace to society."
You laughed, opening your mouth to argue back, when a familiar feeling washed over you.
Your laughter died in your throat.
A cold sensation spread through your stomach, spreading like icy water through your veins.
A faint buzzing crept into your ears, like static building under your skin, and your fingers twitched involuntarily against the blanket.
The room seemed to tilt ever so slightly.
The television, which had faded into background noise moments earlier, became overwhelmingly loud. The flickering light from the screen seemed brighter than before.
A familiar sense of dread curled around your chest.
Not now.
You swallowed hard and sat up slightly, your hand tightening around the blanket tangled across your lap.
Alfie noticed immediately. One second he was grinning, the next, all traces of amusement vanished.
"Hey."
Your vision blurred, like you were looking at everything through fogged glass.
"Alf..." you managed. The sentence never finished.
He was already moving, phone forgotten on the sofa.
"It's okay," he said calmly. "I've got you."
The calmness in his voice grounded you for a brief moment.
You wanted to answer, wanted to tell him you knew, but the words wouldn't come. Your thoughts scattered before you could catch them.
You saw him pause the film, push the coffee table further aware, moving anything dangerous out of the way, and grab the cushion from beside him.
Everything felt slow and distant as your thoughts became muddled.
Then the seizure hit.
Your body stiffened. The world disappeared.
Alfie carefully guided you onto your side as the seizure progresses, making sure your head rested safely against the cushion
He checked the time on his phone. Started timing.
Just like he'd been taught. Just like he'd done before.
The room suddenly felt far too quiet without your laughter.
Rain tapped steadily against the glass. The soft patter felt impossibly gentle compared to the violent rhythm of your muscles.
The television sat frozen on a paused frame.
Alfie remained beside you the entire time, one hand near your shoulder, not restraining, just steady and grounding.
Watching.
Waiting.
Making sure you were safe.
His heart still clenched every time it happened. He wasn't sure that part would ever go away.
No matter how many seizures he'd witnessed, seeing you lose awareness always sent a stab of helplessness through his chest.
But he'd learned something important over the past year.
You needed calm. Not panic.
"It's okay," he murmured quietly, even though he knew you couldn't hear him, his head gently smoothing over your hair.
The seizure continued.
Then gradually, slowly, it began to ease, the movement becoming less intense.
Your body relaxed and eventually it stopped.
When the seizure ended, exhaustion hit you like a wave.
You opened your eyes to a blurry ceiling and an even blurrier boyfriend.
"Hey," he said softly.
Your head felt impossibly heavy, like someone had filled it with wet cotton. Your tongue felt thick, like it didn't quite belong in your mouth, and your arms felt a second too slow to respond to you thoughts.
Every muscle in your body ached.
The room felt too warm and too cold at the same time, your body struggling to decide which sensation to hold onto.
Confusion settled over you.
"What happened?"
His lips twitched.
"You lost the pineapple debate."
You groaned. "Oh no."
"Absolutely tragic, I know."
A weak laugh escaped you, immediately making him smile.
There you are, exhausted and disoriented, but back.
Alfie handed you the bottle of water he'd already prepared and unscrewed the cap for you.
"Easy," he said as you tried to sit up.
A hand settled against your back, steadying you.
You took a few careful sips, the cold water helped clear some of the fog.
A dull throb pulsed behind your eyes, not painful, just insistent - the familiar echo of your brain rebooting.
"Tired?" he asked.
You nodded. "So tired."
"Yeah, that's usually how this goes." His thumb rubbed small circles against your shoulder,
There was no awkwardness.
No pity.
No treating you like you were fragile.
Just the comfortable rhythm you'd built together over months of hospital appointments, medication reminders, and recovery naps.
After nearly a year together, he'd learned exactly what you needed afterwards.
You shifted closer, leaning your head against his shoulder. He was warm, comfortingly familiar. The blanket rustled softly as you settled, your muscles still heavy and uncooperative, but his presence made the weight feel easier to carry.
Your fingers curled loosely into the fabric of his hoodie, the cotton soft and familiar beneath your hand. His warmth seeped into your skin, chasing away the last of the cold that always lingered after a seizure.
"Thanks." you mumbled.
Alfie kissed the top of your head.
"Stop thanking me," he murmured against your hairline.
"Still," you whispered, because gratitude sat stubbornly in your chest even when your brain felt foggy.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. Rain continued to tap against the window in a steady rhythm like the world outside was trying to soothe you too. The paused film sat forgotten on the television, casting a faint glow across the room.
The room felt peaceful again. Safe.
Alfie would never admit it out loud, but every seizure still scared him. Not because he didn't know what to do - he did. He knew the routine by heart. He knew how to recognise the warning signs. He knew to move any hazards, to time the seizure, to stay calm, and to wait patiently for you to come back.
But knowing what to do didn't stop the fear completely. Watching someone you loved lose awareness, even for a few minutes, never stopped feeling frightening.
Alfie rested his cheek lightly against your hair, his arm curled around you.
Making sure you were okay.
Making sure your breathing stayed steady.
Making sure you knew he wasn't going anywhere.
You felt the subtle rise and fall of his breathing, and he felt yours, his attention flicking to the rhythm of it the way it always did after a seizure.
Eventually he reached for his phone again, careful not to jostle you.
"So..." he said, voice low.
You narrowed your eyes suspiciously.
"What?"
"I'm ordering pizza."
A smile tugged at your lips. "And?"
"And because you've had a rubbish evening..."
He sighed dramatically, nudging you knee gently with his own, the kind of soft, wordless reassurance he'd mastered over the past year.
"...you can have the pineapple."
You grinned into his shoulder. "That's true love."
"Don't push it." he muttered, but you could hear the smile in his voice.
You let your eyes drift closed again, the warmth of him seeping into your bones. With your head resting against his shoulder, pizza on the way, and rain tapping softly against the window, the world slowly settled back into place.
ive only ever watched one season of love island (the molly mae season) and now i’m actually really invested in it this year idk why, just thought i’d share haha
season five was so good , along with 7 and eight
last years was alright, i just got bored coz the girls were SO jarring and the men were even worse like it was actually unbearable
this year defo seems to be better tho! really liking the girl group dynamic
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summary: all alfie needed was a little bit of a push
content: love island!au , swearing , possessive behaviour , kissing , sexual innuendo
notes: ok hard launching the love island!au i really don’t know how long this is gonna last. i give it … until season 13 is over. will i ever stop creating au’s??? probably not
wc: 2,383
BEING IN A couple since day one was … good. You think. You weren’t too sure how to feel about it. On one side it was consistently stable, on the other side, you were wondering whether you were too quick to settle down.
It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to explore connections with the other boys, because you had, it was just that none of them were particularly your cup of tea.
Alfie was lovely, he really was, you just wished sometimes that he’d try a little bit harder. You were starting to think that he was growing too comfortable in your couple and thought it was okay to start slacking.
It had only been a week and a half, so maybe you were just being a little dramatic, but it didn't change how you felt by any means.
The morning was chill. Nothing dramatic apart from a bowl of sliced fruits slid your way and refilling your water bottle numerous times whenever you asked him too.
When your phone chimed with a message, you shot up from your place on the day beds, reading the message over before gasping and squealing.
“Oh my God!”
“What?” Hannah asked, grabbing onto your wrist to pull your hand down and read the message.
“She got a message?” Morgan muttered from beside Alfie.
“‘Reader and Oscar, Marcus and Emma are waiting to take you on a date. Please go and get ready’!”
“No way!” Hannah screamed before beginning to jump up and down with you out of excitement.
“Shit.” Alfie muttered, rubbing his bottom lip.
“Why’s she so excited?” Morgan frowned, “Bit weird.”
“Nah, ‘s alright.”
All of the girls helped you get ready, Holly curling your hair while you did your makeup and Mehreen stood to the side, showing you your different outfit options.
You didn’t have long to pick, so you just threw on the most put-together-looking combination she threw your way and stumbled to put your wedged heels on as you went down the stairs.
“Ooo, look at you!” You awed at Oscar, who was wearing a white button-up top open with some black shorts. “Bye, Alfie!”
“No hug? The fuck, girl?” He scoffed playfully.
“Aw, come here.” You grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck and pecking his cheek.
“Don’t miss me too much.” He hummed, patting your ass lightly as you let go.
“Cocky, you.”
“Duh.”
Pulling away from him, you interlocked your arm with Oscar’s and made your way out of the villa and to the cars that would be taking you to your date area.
The boys and Alfie shared a bit of a knowing, worried look before the doors closed and they were blocked off from the outside world.
Marcus was a nice guy.
The date was a little across-the-table scene with a thin vase of flowers between you and a fruity mocktail to share.
You got to learn a bit about him, finding out that he was semi-pro footballer at 29 and had three siblings, consisting of two brothers and one sister. You made a comment about how big his family was, which then prompted him to respond with ‘Yeah, makes me want an even bigger one when I get the chance’.
The remark took you aback a little, not expecting him to be so forward about the possibility of creating a family on the first date.
He was different to Alfie — more bold, more straightforward — and you couldn’t decipher as to whether you liked it or not.
Marcus had good chat, you’d give him that. He didn’t talk about himself too much, and he seemed genuinely interested in getting to know you as a person. Across the patio, you could see Oscar getting along with Emma pretty swimmingly as well.
By the time you made it back to the villa, the sun had set and everyone was in their ‘glam’ outfits. It was kind of perfect, to be honest, because your outfit fit the vibe and it saved you having to change again.
“We’re back!” You exclaimed, hand still locked in Marcus’.
“Yay!” Hannah cheered, waddling over to you the best she could in her maxi dress and heels, “Hi, my love!”
“Hi!” You grinned, hugging her tightly.
“Were they holding hands?” Archie grasped Alfie’s shoulder as they walked off.
“Fuck.” He replied in a mutter, “Am I fucked?”
“Nah, nah, nah. Just be cool.”
You greeted Alfie when he joined, but he didn’t seem too excited to see you again, which put you off a little. You were expecting a grand gesture of sorts, maybe a spinning hug or an offer to go and chat, but all you received was ‘Hi, y’alright? How was it?’.
The girls pulled you to the side, sitting around the mini fire pit so that Emma could introduce herself properly and then you could both debrief the details of your date.
They all seemed really stoked for you, sensing that this was a man who might be willing to put a bit more effort in than Alfie.
“Wait, how old is he?” Mehreen double-checked.
“29.”
“Girl!” She scoffed out laughter, “Age gap much?”
“I know, I know!” You pressed your hands to your cheeks, “But he’s so fit.”
“He is gorge.” Holly nodded in agreement, “More than Alfie?”
You sighed heavily, pursing your lips before speaking, “I don’t know— No, I do. Alfie is definitely more my type, but he’s just been lacking in the effort department, and that’s not something I appreciate. Like, if you want me, please let it be known to the world.” You dramatically threw your hands up to the sky.
“I remember you saying.” Lana noted, “He’s just too comfortable, babe. Hopefully this’ll give him a kick in the bollocks.”
“Yeah.”
On the other side of the villa, the boys were having a much similar conversation, except Alfie was keeping quiet, watching Marcus speak with ego.
“I think the date went really well. She’s a lovely girl, stunning, seemed to take my flirting well and all, so, yeah. Pretty chuffed.”
James glanced at Alfie momentarily before barking out in laughter, “Alfie’s fuming.”
“What?” Alfie blinked, “Nah, nah I’m not. It’s fine. I understand, she’s a proper looker. No hard feelings.”
“I’m gonna go and pull her now, actually.” Marcus said before departing from the boys and making his way over to you.
You beamed at the sight of him, meanwhile Alfie was muttering under his breath, “Y’just spent 3 hours with her, what else could you possibly have to say?”
“And you wanna say you’re not fuming?” Archie cackled, slapping his thigh.
“I’m not fuming, I’m just … Argh, lads, don’t.” Alfie’s fingers came up to dig into the corners of his eyes as he laughed through his ‘tantrum’.
“You’re jealous.” Christian shrugged.
“Yeah, but you’ve got every right to be. You’ve been coupled up since day one. I’d be more concerned if you weren’t arsed, to be honest mate.” Morgan gave his two pence.
“Look look look look look!” Archie gasped, and all the boys heads snapped in the direction he was looking at.
Marcus had his arm around your shoulders as he guided you toward the seating area under the terrace.
“Cheeky bastard!”
“You reckon he’s trying to get a rise out of you?” Morgan asked, looking at Alfie.
“I dunno … If he is, that’s just a bit pathetic. Like, you’re in here to find love and you’re dedicating all of your time to pissing off some random guy?”
“To be fair, on the date, he didn’t ask about you at all.” Oscar explained.
“Is that worse, though?” James but in, “Like, is that more inconsiderate?”
“You lot are scrambling with my head, man.” Alfie groaned, running a hand through his hair, “Bare stressing me out. Chill.”
“We’ve just got your back, mate.” Christian patted him on the shoulder.
Your chat with Marcus was going well.
He was sitting rather close to you, fingers skimming the edge of your thigh mindlessly. He asked how you felt about the date, and whether or not you were still willing to get to know him having now been put in an environment with both him and Alfie. You told him that you were, and Alfie being there didn’t change anything for you because you weren’t closed off by any means.
Speaking of, he seemed to be making his way over to you both pretty purposefully.
“You okay?” You hummed once he was close enough.
“Yeah, do you wanna go chat?” He nodded to the side.
“Yeah, ‘course.” You agreed, nudging Marcus’ hand off your thigh and making the move to stand up, until he stopped you.
“It’s okay, you two stay here, I’ll go get a drink.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Cheers, mate.” Alfie nodded, taking his place beside you and getting extremely comfortable.
He took your legs, slinging them over his lap and threw his arm over your shoulders, keeping you tucked nice and tight into his side. You loved it. This was the type of treatment and behaviour you wanted to receive from him, not passive touch and barely meaningful conversations.
Your fingers found the hand that was dangling beside your head, interlocking with his perfectly and letting your thumb stroke over his first finger.
“Y’alright, beautiful?” He started.
“Oh, so now I’m beautiful?”
He frowned, “You’re always beautiful.”
You hummed, acknowledging his words but not giving him half as much attention as you would’ve done had you been a bit more happier with his treatment towards you.
“What?” He nudged your knee with his lightly, “Talk to me.”
“Just …” You huffed, picking your head up and turning to look at him, “You haven’t even been giving me the time of day recently, and now that someone wants me, you’re like a territorial dog.”
“Am I? I don’t think I am.”
You raised your eyebrows, a light smile on your face, “Alfie.”
“What?”
“Don’t be stupid, ‘coz you’re not. You haven’t pulled me for a chat in days, and now Marcus takes me for a date and has a little cuddle with me, you’re all over me again.”
“Is that what the issue is? We don’t talk?”
“I just …” You rested your head back on his arm, “I’d appreciate a bit more effort.”
He hummed, bringing his other hand down to rest on your shin, rubbing up and down.
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you?” You clicked your tongue.
“I am.” He nodded, “Tomorrow, I will bring you breakfast and a coffee, oat milk not normal,”
You laughed at the detail.
“And then I will hog you the whole day. Anyone tries to pull you for a chat and I will fight them off. Sound good?”
“Mmm … I might get a bit annoyed with you after a while.” You joked, “Or maybe you’ll get annoyed with me.”
“Reader, I could never get annoyed with you.”
“How’d you know? You haven’t spent more than fifteen minutes with me alone in the past four days.”
“Oh, c’mon.” He groaned, rolling his eyes and resting his head to the side, leaning it on yours, “I’ll make it up to you.”
“What if Marcus wants to talk to me all day tomorrow?” You quipped.
“He can fuck right off.” Alfie murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple casually.
“Alfie.” You tutted, slapping his thigh.
“I’m serious. Gonna super glue our hands together tonight.”
“Oh, no, don’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“‘Coz then I can’t use them.” You teased, smirking in a way that had his brain short circuiting and trying to come up with a response to your innuendo.
“What you gettin’ at, girl?” He grinned.
“No, nothing.” You shrugged, feigning innocence.
“You proper mess with my head, you know that?”
You turned your head, keeping eye contact with him as you beamed.
“Good or bad?”
“Oh, good. But, only ‘coz it’s you. Anyone else and it would be a nightmare.” He replied, blinking excessively in a way that told you he was nervous, but he didn’t want to seem like a pussy for refusing to maintain eye contact.
“I feel the same about this protectiveness.”
“Really? Is it doing it for you?”
“Mmm maybe a little bit.”
“Yeah?” He smirked, leaning in a little.
You nodded, poking your head forward the rest of the way until your lips were interlocked with his.
His arm tightened around your shoulders, keeping your head in place as one of yours came up to cup his cheek.
It was perfect, soft but passionate in all the right ways. It wasn’t all about the tongue, but he let it be known how much he wanted you through the glides of his against yours.
Hannah gasped, “They’re snogging.”
Mehreen nearly broke her neck with the speed in which she turned around to glance.
“Aw, yay.” Holly whispered, clapping quietly with small movements so it wouldn’t be audible.
When you pulled back, he came in for another, this time offering you light pecks rather than a full, tongue-in-mouth debacle.
“Happy now?” He chimed.
“No. You can rub my feet before bed.”
“Fuck sake.” He huffed, puffing his cheeks out and leaning his head on your chest.
You giggled, wrapping your arms around him properly and kissing the top of his head.
“God, you are so clingy when you wanna be, aren’t you?”
“Sorry, you just whinged at me for not being clingy enough!” He scoffed.
“I did not whinge!” You exclaimed through laughter.
“You fuckin’ did!”
“Oi!” You shoved him back.
“No, no, I’m playing,” He grinned, his hands finding your waist, “I kinda like when you put me in my place.”
“Okay, chill.” You snorted before reaching out and running your thumbs over his shockingly sharp canines, “Also, I like these.”
“Yeah? They’re sharp, ennit?”
“Mm, you’ve got proper fangs.”
“Good for biting.” His lips upturned, pressing his lips to yours again.
You grinned into it, happily clasping your hands at the back of his head and keeping him close.
The only thing that was able to pull you off of each other was the sound of production alerting you that it was time for bed.
Reluctantly, you dragged your lips off of his and sighed.
summary: you and Arthur are forced to spend the entire week together, much to your dismay | Arthur x fem!reader
notes: isn't it soooo ironic that whenever they're having a moment to themselves their friends interupt them when they're the ones who are pushing them together 🤭 anyway! part 3!
content: fluff, forced proximity
series masterlist!
Day Three
On Tuesday morning, you’d woken up earlier than usual but accepted your fate in not going back to sleep any time soon. You’d grabbed your schedule from the clipboard hanging by your cabin door, intending to review the day’s plan over coffee.
That’s when you saw it.
9:00 AM- Supply inventory (Mess Hall storage) – Co-lead with Arthur F
11:30 AM – Activity prep: Archery range set up – Co-lead with Arthur F
2:00 PM – Meal planning meeting – Attend with Arthur F
You stared at the paper. Then you flipped to Wednesday’s schedule.
8:00 AM – Morning trail check – Co-lead with Arthur F
1:00 PM – craft supplies organisation – Co-lead with Arthur F
6:00 PM – Campfire planning session – Co-lead with Arthur F
“What the hell,” you muttered.
“Morning!” Flo chirped, appearing beside you with two mugs of coffee. She handed you one, her smile just a touch too innocent. “Sleep well?”
You held up the schedule. ‘Did you do this?”
“Do what?”
“This. My entire week is double-booked with Arthur.”
Flo’s eyes widened in what you were pretty sure was fake surprise. “Really? That’s… wow. That’s a lot of overlap.”
“Flo.”
“I mean, you’re both senior counsellors,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee. “Makes sense you’d be coordinating on stuff.”
“Every single day?”
“Camp’s busy.” She shrugged, but you could see the corner of her mouth twitching. “I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.”
“Coincidence,” you repeated flatly.
“Yep. Total coincidence.” She patted your shoulder. “Better get to that supply inventory. Wouldn’t want to keep Arthur waiting.”
She disappeared before you could interrogate her further.
Arthur was already in the mess hall storage room when you arrived, clipboard in hand, looking like he’d been awake for hours. Knowing him, he probably had been.
“Morning,” he said, not quite meeting your eyes.
“Morning.” You stepped into the cramped space, immediately aware of how small it was. Shelves lined every wall, stacked with canned goods, dry pasta, and industrial-sized containers of peanut butter. There was maybe three feet of floor space between you. ‘So. Supply inventory.”
“Yeah.” He glances at his clipboard, then at the shelves, then back at his clipboard. “I, uh. I noticed we’re scheduled together a lot this week.”
“You noticed that too?”
“Kind of hard not to.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking uncomfortable. “I tried to swap out of a few things, but apparently, there’s always I can’t. Bach needs to supervise the younger campers. George is leading the ropes course. Arthurs got the music workshop.”
‘How convenient.”
“Very convenient.” His jaw tightened. “They’re not subtle, are they?”
“Not even a little bit.”
You stood there for a moment, the silence stretching between you. The storage room smelled like cardboard and dried herbs, and the single lightbulb overhead cast everything in a slightly yellow glow. Arthur shifted his weight, and his shoulder brushed against a shelf. He was close enough that you could see the faint freckles across his nose, and the way his t-shirt had a small tear near the collar.
“Well,” you said finally. “We’re here. Might as well actually do the inventory.”
“Right. Yeah.” He cleared his throat, consulting his clipboard. “Okay, so we need to count everything, check expiration dates, note anything that’s running low. I’ve got a system-”
“Of course you do.”
Arthur ignored you, “-where we go shelf by shelf, top to bottom, left to right. That way we don’t miss anything.”
You wanted to argue. You wanted to suggest just eyeballing it or doing it in whatever order felt natural. But the thing was, his system actually made sense. And you were stuck in a tiny room with him for the next hour, so picking a fight seemed counterproductive.
“Fine,” you said. “Top to bottom, left to right. Let’s do it.”
If Arthur was surprised by your lack of argument, he didn’t show it. He just nodded and turned to the first shelf.
You worked in silence for a while, calling out items and quantities while Arthur marked them down. It was almost peaceful, in a weird wat. Methodical. The kind of task that didn’t require much thought, just attention to detail.
“Twelve cans of diced tomatoes,” you said.
“Got it”
“Eight boxes of pasta.”
“Noted.”
“One absolutely massive jar of pickles that I’m pretty sure has been here since the camp opened.”
Arthur actually smiled at that – small, but real. “I think that jar’s older than we are.”
“Should we… do something about it?”
“Probably, but I’m not brave enough to open it.”
“Fair.”
You reached for a box on the top shelf, stretching up on your toes. Your fingers just barely brushed the edge. Arthur noticed, stepped closer without thinking, and reached over your shoulder to grab it.
For a second, you were very aware of how close he was. The warmth of him at your back, the smell of his soap - something clean and woodsy. His arm extended past yours, and you could see the lean muscle of his forearm, the wat his fingers wrapped around the box with easy confidence.
He handed it to you and stepped back quickly, like he’d just realised what he’d done.
“Thanks,” you said, your voice coming out higher than intended.”
“No problem.”
You cleared your throat and checked the label to avoid looking at him any longer. “Uh. Granola bars. Looks like… twenty.
“Twenty. Got it.”
The rest of the inventory passed in a blur of canned goods and awkward shuffling around each other, trying to avoid anymore almost-touches. By the time you finished, you were both eager to get out of the cramped space.
“See you later?” Arthur asked, almost sounding hopeful as you stepped back into the mess hall. “For the archery set-up?”
“Sure.”
He nodded, already turning away. But then he paused, glancing back at you. “For what it’s worth… you were right. About the pickles. We should probably do something about that jar.”
You couldn’t help it. You smiled. “I’ll add it to the list.”
Day Four
By Wednesday evening, you’d spent more time with Arthur in three days than you had in the previous four summers combined. And the worst part? It wasn’t entirely terrible.
The archery range setup has been surprisingly smooth. Arthur had a plan, you’d suggested a few modifications, and somehow, you’d ended up with a system that actually worked better than either of your original ideas. The meal planning meeting had been less successful – you’d argued about whether to have a themed dinner night (you were pro, Arthur was con), but you’d eventually settled on a “camp classic” menu that made everyone happy.
Now you were sitting in the campfire circle with Arthur, a notebook between you, trying to plan Friday’s campfire program.
“We should have a solid plan,” Arthur said, tapping his pen against the notebook. “A clear order of events. Maybe start with a welcome song, then some games, then the main activity, then close with another song.”
“That sounds boring.”
“It’s not boring. It’s organised.”
“It’s predictable.” You leaned back on your hands, looking up at the darkening sky. “Campfires should be spontaneous. Fun. We should have a loose idea and then just… see where the night takes us.”
Arthur looked pained. “That’s not a plan. That’s just hoping things work out.”
“Things usually do work out.”
“Usually isn’t good enough when you’ve got forty kids sitting around a fire.”
You sighed. This was going nowhere. You’d been going in circles for twenty minutes, and you were no closer to an actual plan than when you’d started.
“Okay,” you said finally. “What if we compromise?”
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “You want to compromise?”
“Don’t sound so shocked. I’m capable of compromise.”
“I’ve never seen evidence of that.”
“Well, you’re about to.” You sat up, pulling the notebook toward you. “What if we have a structure, but we build in flexibility? Like… we have a set opening and closing, but the middle is looser. We prepare a few different activities and games, and then we read the room and pick what feels right in the moment.”
Arthur was quiet for a moment, considering. You could practically see the cogs working in his head, weighing the pros and cons.
“That… could work,” he said slowly. “We’d need to prep everything in advance, though. So we’re ready for everything.”
“Obviously.”
“And we’d need to agree on the opening and closing songs.”
“I can live with that.”
He picked up the pen and started writing. “Okay. Opening song: ’40 years on an iceberg?’ Classic, everyone knows it, easy to get the kids engaged.”
“Perfect. And for closing… ‘Taps’? Or is that too serious?”
“Too serious. What about ‘The Campfire’s burning’?”
You nodded. “Yeah, that works.”
For the next hour, you actually worked together. Arthur suggested a structured game, you suggested a storytelling circle. Arthur wanted to prepare three backup activities, but you convinced him that two were enough. You wanted to include a silly song with hand motions. Arthur found one that wasn’t too chaotic.
By the time the sun had fully set, and the first stars were appearing overhead, you had a plan. A real plan. One you both contributed to, one that felt good.
“This is going to be great,” you said, looking at the final list. “The kids are going to love it.”
Arthur smiled – not the polite one he usually gave you. “Yeah. I think they will.”
You caught yourself smiling back. Caught yourself noticing the way the firelight danced across his face, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled.
Then you remembered who you were smiling at, and you looked away quickly.
“We should probably head back,” you said, standing up and brushing dirt off your shorts. “It’s getting late.”
“Right. Yeah.” Arthur stood too, gathering the notebook and pens. “See you tomorrow? For the supply run?”
“Yeah, of course.”
As you walked back toward the cabins, you were very aware of him beside you. The comfortable silence between you. The way your footsteps fell into sync without either of you trying.
This was getting dangerous.
Day Five
The camp truck was old, temperamental, and smelled faintly of gasoline and pine needles. You climbed into the passenger seat while Arthur took the driver’s side, and for a moment you both just sat there, staring at the dashboard.
“So,” you said finally. “Town?”
“Town.” Arthur agreed.
He turned the key. The engine sputtered, coughed and then roared to life. Arthur put it in gear and pulled out of the parking lot, and just like that, you were alone with him. Really alone. No campers, no other counsellors, no convenient excuses to cut the conversation short.
The first ten minutes passed in silence. You watched the trees blur past the window, tried not to think about how aware you were of Arthur’s hands on the steering wheel, the way he drove with easy confidence, one hand at ten o’clock and the other resting on the gear shift.
“So,” Arthur said eventually. “This is weird.”
You couldn’t help it. You laughed. “Yeah. This is definitely weird.”
“I mean, we’ve been working together all week, but this is…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Different.”
“No audience.”
“Exactly.” He glances at you, then back at the road. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re terrible at your job.”
You blinked. “What?”
“I just-” He shifted in his seat, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “I know we don’t agree on a lot of things. And I know I can be… rigid. About rules and structure and all that. But you’re good with the kids. They love you. And that matters more than whether or not you follow my schedules.”
You didn’t know what to say to that. Arthur Frederick, king of organisation and plans, was admitting that maybe rules weren’t everything?
“Thanks,” you said finally. “That’s... actually really nice of you to say.”
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
“I’m not surprised. I’m just…” You paused, trying to find the right words. “I guess I didn’t think you noticed. That I’m good with the kids, I mean.”
“Of course I noticed.” He said it like it was obvious. Like he’d always noticed. “You make them feel safe. Like they can be themselves. That’s not nothing.”
Your chest felt tight. You looked out the window again, trying to process this. Trying to figure out when Arthur had stopped being just your rival and started being… something else.
“You’re good with them too,” you said quietly. “They trust you. They know you’ll look after them, that you’ll be fair. That matters just as much.”
Arthur didn’t respond, but you saw his grip on the steering wheel tighten slightly. Saw the way his jaw worked, like he was trying to figure out what to say.
The rest of the drive passed in a more comfortable silence. When you reached town, Arthur parked in front of the general store, and you both climbed out, grabbing the shopping list from the glove compartment.
The store was busy – summer tourists stocking up on supplies, locals doing their weekly shopping. You and Arthur navigated the aisles together, checking items off the list. Marshmallows. Graham crackers. Chocolate bars. Industrial-sized containers of bug spray. They all went into the shopping cart that Arthur pushed along behind you.
“Oh my god,” you said suddenly, stopping in front of a display. “Do you remember these?”
You held up a package of the colourful, overly sugary sweets you’d both loved as campers. The ones that turned your tongue blue and gave you a sugar high that lasted for hours.
Arthur’s face lit up. “I haven’t seen those in years.”
“We should get some. For the kids.”
“The kids, or for us?”
“Both?”
He laughed, and it made something warm bloom in your chest. You grabbed three packets and tossed them in the cart, and Arthur didn’t even protest.
You were in the checkout line when Arthur’s phone buzzed. The cashier was scanning your items, and you were both standing there, waiting. He pulled it out, frowning at the screen.
“Everything okay?” you asked.
“Yeah, just-” He showed you the text. It was from Bach: Have you two killed each other yet?
You rolled your eyes. “So dramatic.”
Arthur hummed in agreement and typed back a response, you caught a glimpse of it over his shoulder: Still alive. Barely.
You snorted, and Arthur glanced at you, a smile tugging at his lips. And then you were both laughing, standing in the middle of the general store, laughing at your friends’ terrible scheming.
The cashier looked at you like you were insane.
On the drive back, something had changed. You weren’t sure what, exactly, but the silence felt different now. Less awkward, easier. Like you’d crossed some invisible line and couldn’t quite figure out how to get back.
“Can I ask you something?” Arthur said as the camp came into view.
“Sure.”
“Why do you hate me?”
The question caught you off guard. You’d been expecting something lighter, something easier to answer.
“I don’t-” you started, then stopped. Because that wasn’t true, was it? Or at least, it hadn’t been true for a while now. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t anymore.”
Arthur pulled into the car park and put the truck in park. But he didn’t get out. He just sat there, hands still on the wheel, staring straight ahead.
“I don’t hate you either,” he said quietly. “I don’t think I ever really did.”
Your heart was beating too fast. This felt like dangerous territory, like you were standing on the edge of something you couldn’t take back.
“Then why-”
Before you could finish, George appeared beside the truck, knocking on the window with a grin.
“Supply run successful?” he called.
The moment shattered. Arthur cleared his throat and opened the door. “Yeah. All good.”
You climbed out too, helping to unload the supplies, and tried not to think about the conversation that had been about to happen.
Day Six
You were in the middle of leading an art activity when Liv came running up, her face pale.
“We need you,” she said. “Both of you. Now.”
You and Arthur exchanged a glance, then immediately followed her to the nurse’s station. One of the younger campers – a girl named Sophie from Hill’s cabin – was sitting on the cot, looking miserable. Her face was flushed, and she was shivering despite the warm afternoon.
“Fever,” the camp nurse said grimly. Pretty high. I’ve caller her parents, but they’re three hours away. We need to keep her comfortable and monitored until they get here.”
“What do you need?” Arthur asked, already moving into problem-solving mode.
“Cold compresses. Water. Someone to sit with her. And we need to check the other campers – if this is something contagious, we need to catch it early.”
You and Arthur moved in sync. You grabbed the cold compresses and water while Arthur started organising the other counsellors to check their campers for symptoms. No discussion, no argument. Just smooth, efficient teamwork.
For the next three hours, you took turns sitting with Sophie, keeping her comfortable, monitoring her temperature. When Sophie’s fever spiked, and she started crying for her mum, you held her hand and told her stories until she calmed down. When the nurse needed someone to run to town for medication, Arthur volunteered immediately.
By the time Sophie’s parents arrived and took her home, you were exhausted. You and Arthur stood outside the nurse’s station, watching the car disappear down the road.
“That was...” Arthur started.
“Yeah.”
You’d worked together with no bickering, no competing. Just two people who knew what needed to be done and did it.
“We’re good at this,” Arthur said finally. “Working together, I mean.”
“Yeah,” you said quietly. “We are.”
He looked at you then, and you saw something in his eyes that made your breath catch. Something that looked like he was seeing you clearly for the first time.
“We should-”
But then Hill appeared, breaking the moment. “Hey, you two okay? That was intense.”
“Fine,” you said quickly, stepping back and looking away from Arthur’s face.
Arthur nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. All good.”
But as you walked away, you could feel his eyes on you. And you knew – you both knew – that something had changed.
“They’re not fighting anymore,” Flo said, leaning against the mess hall table.
The friend group had gathered after lights out, ‘planning the next day’s activities, when in reality they were debriefing on Operation Get Arthur And You Together.
“They’re not even bickering,” Liv added. “Like, at all. Did you see them today? They were completely in sync.”
“And the supply run,” George said. “Bach, you saw Arthur’s face when he got back. He looked like a changed man.”
Bach nodded. “Like he wasn’t sure what had changed.”
Arthur added. “Same with Reader. Flo, you said she was smiling at her phone yesterday?”
“Smiling at a text from Arthur,” Flo confirmed. “I saw his name on the screen.”
“So, Phase Two worked,” Liv said. “They’re not enemies anymore. But they’re not together either.
“They’re stuck,” Bach said. “They know something’s changed, but they don’t know what to do about it.”
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guys i cant watch love island because im not in the uk 😢😢😢😢 to my love island anons, i love you greatly, but please don’t spoil anything for me! i’ll be catching up on wednesday and will let you know where im at then xx
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summary: a stranger comes to your rescue during an awful encounter with another man
content: sexual harassment (not by alfie) , swearing , mentions of a break up & cheating , angst w/ comfort
notes: i really don’t like this lmfao but dee thinks it’s alright and i need to post something so here we are
TODAY HAD TO be the worst day in history — well, for you, anyway. Just a week ago, you’d found out that your boyfriend of two years had been seeing another girl for four, which technically made you the other woman. Upon confronting him about it, he flipped the entire thing around onto you, ultimately ending the break up under the guise of ‘knowing you were seeing multiple other men’.
You were emotionally exhausted, sitting on the train by yourself with a pathetic meal deal in front of you that wasn’t even that appealing anymore.
It was late, like sundown moon out kind of late, and the train was barely occupied, just you and another guy in the compartment.
He was visibly tall and muscular, a cap on his head and his nose buried into his phone. You weren’t glancing at him too much, trying not to appear like a total freak, but he was very attractive. He had facial hair framing his mouth that looked rough and coarse, and his hand smothered his phone.
You took the same approach that he did, using your device as a distraction. However, every time you went on it, you were reminded of your just-turned ex.
Old snap memories from a year ago, Instagram highlights, old wallpapers that you had saved to your phone, ancient text messages from your parents about whether he was coming for tea.
It made tears well in your eyes, and you let out a little wet sniffle, wiping them as they fell and leaving your phone face down, resting your head on the window.
That was a bad call.
You should’ve kept your phone open, so you had an excuse to ignore the weird man that had added himself to the carriage with you and the other passenger, but you hadn’t.
His posture was awful, and he reeked of must and other unpleasantries.
The entire carriage was empty, apart from the table opposite you, of course, and he still decided to sit next to you.
You shut your eyes, trying to focus on the music blaring in your ears, but his presence lingered like a bad omen.
You could feel him fidgeting next to you, like he had an unstoppable itch. It made you uncomfortable, because you could never predict his next move.
His voice carried, appearing over the noise of your music.
He was talking to you, but you were ignoring him.
“Oi!” He exclaimed, two fingers touching the side of your head and knocking it to the side.
Eyes shooting open, you clutched everything tighter to yourself; your phone, your airpod case, the jacket wrapped around you.
Your eyes were wide with panic and fear, and you slowly removed one airpod, not wanting him to react physically again.
“What? Sorry, I couldn’t hear you.” You tried being polite, your voice small and meek.
“‘Coz you’ve got your headphones in you daft bint!” He laughed obnoxiously, “Wanna give me your number?”
“Um …”
Your eyes darted around, catching sight of the other man across the aisle.
He still had his eyes trained on his phone, headphones on too, but you could tell he wasn’t really listening to anything. Like he’d turned his music down to hear the commotion without truly acknowledging it.
He was alert and aware, but not engaged.
“No, I have a boyfriend, sorry.”
“Oh, so what? You prudish? Come onnnn.” He groaned. “Wanna go bathroom?”
“No, thank you.”
“No? Why fucking not?”
“Wh— I— I just said, I have a boyfriend.” You spluttered, feeling tears burn in your eyes from fear, your hands trembling on the table in front of you.
“Like you girls care. All you lot always going out.” He laughed, reaching a hand out and grazing a finger under your chin.
“Please don’t.” You curled in on yourself.
“Oi, mate.” The man across the aisle finally spoke up, “Leave her alone, yeah?”
The relief that flooded your body was insurmountable.
“What? Who are you?”
“Does it matter? Just leave her alone. She clearly doesn’t want to talk to you.”
“You’ve got some right cheek talking to me like that, why don’t you fuck off?” The creep's voice was beginning to increase in volume, and someone at the complete other end of the carriage had gotten up and disappeared through the sliding doors.
“Nah, come on, get up.” He slid out of his own chairs, gesturing for the man to stand and leave, “You’re making her uncomfortable. Go.”
“Bro, she clearly wants it.”
“No, she doesn’t. Get up. Leave.”
“What’s your name? What’s your name?”
“Alfie?”
“Alfie, yeah? Fuck off.” He suddenly swung an arm over your shoulders, making you writhe in an attempt to get him off of you, “Trynna enjoy—“
You weren’t expecting Alfie to react physically, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t relieved when he latched his hands around the fellas jacket and yanked him off of his seat.
It did startle you, but you settled fairly quickly when it clicked to you that the man’s stale existence had gotten further away from you.
“Get out.” Alfie sneered, pushing the man away.
“Do you wanna fucking go?!” He shouted, causing an entire scene.
Alfie stayed pointing to the train doors. The outside world was slowly coming to a halt as the train prepared for pulling into the station.
He was quick to grab his belongings and put them in the overhead space next to your suitcase and sit down in the seat next to you.
“Oh, I get it.” The tramp began cackling, “You wanna have a go too? That’s fine, leave some for me after, mate.”
Your skin crawled at the objectifying, disgusting manner in which he spoke about you as if you weren’t right there. Or maybe that’s why he was saying it, because he knew you were right there.
“Seriously, shut the fuck up and fuck off.” Alfie snapped, his patience wearing thin.
He was a large man in stature and presence. Now that he was speaking and not taking up a singular seat in the carriage, his occupancy was blatant and loud, fighting against the obnoxious behaviour of another male.
Thankfully, the person that had left the carriage previously, had returned with a train conductor and security officer, who began to take control of the situation, and escort the man off of the train when it finally came to a stop.
You witnessed him being put in cuffs out of the window. He was still shouting and kicking as he went, throwing degrading phrases in your direction, and even going as far to spit at the window.
You flinched, like it could magically get through the glass and land on you.
“Hey, you okay?” Alfie then asked, drawing your attention away from the outside world and the peace that had now settled in the carriage.
“Yeah, um, thanks.” You smiled, your voice breaking from emotion, “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying.”
“It’s alright.” He shook his head, “He was a fucking creep. I’d be a little upset too.” He smiled, trying to add some lightness to the situation.
“Well, thanks for, yknow …”
“Obviously. I weren’t gonna let him treat you like that.” Alfie said, “… Do you want me to stay here? Or I can move back?”
“Oh, no, you’re okay here if you want.” You shook your head, “Don’t feel like you have to move because of me.”
“I just … didn’t wanna make you feel any worse.” He shrugged, settling into the seat beside you. “What’s your name?”
“Reader.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Alfie, but—“
“Yeah, I know.”
“Cool.” He clicked his tongue, nodding and hesitating to speak before committing to it, “Are you okay? Like, before this all happened? You were crying already.”
“Oh, um, yeah … My boyfriend broke up with me today so I’m going back up to stay with my parents for a bit.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” He frowned, “That sucks. Um … his loss?”
“Yeah, I guess.” You shrugged.
“Well, you are stunning, so it is his loss.”
You blinked at him for a moment, stunned by his words, and the blunt, forward nature he’d said them in.
“Shit, sorry.” His cheeks went bright red, “I didn’t mean to come across like that.”
You smiled softly, a little flushed yourself, “It’s okay. You’re not too bad yourself.”
“Yeah?” He grinned, displaying his sharp fangs for canines, “Cheers, girl.”
You continued to share cheeky, shy smiles with each other for the rest of the journey until you had to get off a couple stops before.
“Do you want my Instagram?” He blurted out suddenly.
You paused, turning back around to him, “Sorry?”
“My Instagram. Do … Do you want it? It’s no worries if not, really, I just thought I’d shoot my shot—“
“Yeah, go on then.” You nodded, handing him your phone.
Thankfully, he finished up just in time for you to step off the train, waving bye to him through the window before glancing down at your phone.
Alfie Buttle.
Jesus, he had quit the following already. And he was verified?
You got a notification of him following you back, and sending a swift message.
alfiebuttle: let us know when you get back x
yourusername: okay x
A large grin spread across your face before you shut the screen off and made your way out of the station.
