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"that was very fast....like a pony"

In Alexander we trust <3

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my disappointment is immeasurable and my day is ruined.

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traitors out of context

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HOLD ON leanne literally said "if you're lying to me to get to the final that's cruel". frankie even swore on her kids that she wouldn't lie? this is such a fucking stupid concept lads i am livid. LIVID.

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he's such a genuinely lovely guy, I hope he's able to raise money for that charity independently

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this is actually soooo fucking sick and twisted i cannot. it should NOT HAVE HAPPENED TO ALEXANDER

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the fact that they're all faithfuls and no-one trusts each other is sending me

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I’ve never been happier that Charlotte is gone, I’m now happy with whoever wins, hoping it’s Alexander

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Faithful self-destruct anyone? We’re going down to two people standing, Jake and someone else. Or that’s my prediction at least.

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NOOOOOOO ALEXANDER ffs STOP TALKING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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what it's like introducing the besties to new people

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feel like pure shit just want minah back 💔

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“the innocent welsh girl”

that’s so much funnier knowing she isn’t even welsh.

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Honestly, I think at this point Traitors S3 is just an advertisement for Alexander's dating profile

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“There’s just something about ya’.” PT.2

(Rivals) Declan O’Hara x Reader

Suggestion by a sweet anon 🫶🏽 Despite his dislike of the upper class, Declan cannot help but fall for Rupert’s daughter.

18+ FANFIC / Romantic angst, smut mention. Reader character aged at 21. Hope you enjoy! 🩷

It had been approximately four and a half days since you had last blessed The Priory with your glittering presence. Declan had found himself, half-asleep and puffing hungrily on a cigarette, stood by the kitchen window — surveying the fields and embarrassingly hopeful that he saw you march from Penscombe Court with your usual hamper of snacks. Today must have been his lucky day, as you were doing just that. With crimson red wellies clutching your feet, you trampled up the mossy bank, hauling a heavy wicker hamper in your right hand. Knocking politely, you waited by the front door, feeling your bottom lip trembling with trepidation.

The door swung open — revealing Declan dressed (in loose terms) in tight white boxers and a navy blue dressing gown. “Oh. It’s you.” He spat, but his heart was executing the most perfect somersaults inside his chest. “Yes. Daddy said he hasn’t seen you in a while… worried about you. So I’ve brought you some thick cut bacon and some pork and apple sausages, cook you up a breakfast.” You beamed. The bewitching twinkle in your eyes was enough to make Declan almost drool. He didn’t speak, but pushed the door open further to allow you entry into the unkempt country home. “Why haven’t you answered Daddy’s calls?” You pried, waltzing into the kitchen and beginning to retrieve a frying pan and spatula. Declan sat himself down at the table, brindle brown glasses on and his unnerving chocolate orbs trained on you. “Busy.” He grunted, scratching at the growing stubble on his chin.

Within minutes, the ambrosial aroma of frying bacon was occupying the kitchen. Your shapely figure was clothed in a vibrant yellow summer dress, the ruches clinging to the contours of your waist. The sight alone was enough to make the breath catch in Declan’s throat. “Nice dress.” He remarked, admiring the tresses of golden hair that cascaded down your back like a rich waterfall. “Why thank you!” You giggled, spinning around from the hob to curtesy gracefully. You daren’t tell him that you wore it just for him. The breakfast you had cooked for him was nothing short of majestic — a rounded plate laden with bacon, sausages, eggs, beans and toast. “Here you are, my love.” You presented the plate to him and instantaneously spun on your heel, facing the wall and chomping down on your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. My love?, you thought to yourself, why on Earth did I say that?

Declan rapaciously wolfed at his food, his moustache glistening with grease. What was so terribly wrong with you that you even found that attractive? “Drink?” You asked tentatively, not wanting to disturb the breakfast trance he’d worked himself into. He simply nodded his head in response. You flashed him that sweet, submissive smile that he’d grown so accustomed to. Fumbling through the cupboard, you began to retrieve a glass and noticed that the neighbouring glass was slipping. It promptly hurtled to the floor and shattered into tiny, crystallised shards with a delicious smash. “Shit!” You huffed, a concoction of embarrassment and angry, and bent down to the ground to ineptly pick up the jagged pieces. Declan followed suit — he’d rather cut himself a thousand times on the shattered glass than you cut yourself once. As he gathered the pieces, he swiftly glanced up at you. Feeling his unwavering glare, your eyes darted upwards, immediately stifling their panicked glow.

The tension entwined betwixt your locked eyes was palpable, the rise and fall of your chests increasing with every waking second. Before either of you could speak, Declan stood to his feet, pulling you up with him and picking you up. By instinct, your legs crossed behind his back and your hands raked desperately through his hair— your lips crashing together hungrily. Desperate moans were whimpered against each others lips. Declan placed you onto the table carefully, beginning to unbutton his shirt, his lustful eyes following your hands as you rushed to hike up your dress. “Fuck, I want you so bad.” He mumbled, pressing his lips against yours once more, unable to suppress the urge to taste you. You had never wanted anything more.

“Hello? Only me, old chap. I can’t find princess anywhere.” The all too familiar voice of Rupert, your father, called from the hallway, the gutting click of the front door behind him sending reverberant shock waves through you both.

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NEW 💯💯💯

Here is a short video of Aidan and Danny Dyer, asking a question in the British TV show, The Big Fat Quiz 2024, on Channel 4, few days ago.

So funny !!🤣🤣

Thanks to my friend Isademrio

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Oh, the whole world, it is sleeping. But my world is you. PT.1?

(Rivals) Rupert Campbell-Black x Reader

Suggestion by: A sweet anon🫶🏽

Song Inspo: Bloom, The Paper Kites.

Disclaimers: Reader character aged at 26. Short Work. Let me know if you’d like a PT2? Your sweet, soft life with Rupert & your family 🩷

It was a slow, gentle morning in Spring. A tender stream of sunlight washed through the sheer net curtains of the kitchen. Outside, daffodils had begun to rear their golden heads across the lawn of Penscombe Court. In the distance, a herd of sheep guided new, bouncing lambs across the valley. As Rupert Campbell-Black pulled himself from his deep slumber, he yawned and outstretched his limbs, his ears instantaneously being filled by cheerful chatter downstairs. Pulling on a navy blue towelling robe, he sauntered downstairs and was stopped in his tracks by a small boy, dressed in a white t-shirt and blue dungarees, ink black hair shrouding his head like a cloud. His cerulean eyes sparkled in the same way as Rupert’s. “Good morning, Arthur.” Rupert beamed, picking up the boy, who replied back in his own toddler chatter. “Ruff ruff!” Arthur babbled as Blue, the lurcher, and Rufus, the beagle, circled around Rupert’s ankles.

Rupert placed Arthur back down on the floor when they entered the kitchen, and he immediately toddled away to the corner to continue ramming his shiny red cast metal car into the skirting board. “Good morning, darling.” Rupert purred, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. You were sat at the dining table already, spoon-feeding a thick porridge to your plump-cheeked baby in the highchair beside you. “And how is my beautiful girl this morning?” Rupert cheered, pulling the baby from the highchair and spinning her around in his arms. Posie was almost six months old — with an angelic, cherub-like face, rosy cheeks and a belly laugh that even made Declan O’Hara smile. “Very greedy.” You replied, scooping up the last of the porridge onto a small blue spoon and stuffing it in Posie’s mouth.

The family that you’d both created often brought tears to Rupert’s eyes. The way Arthur’s eyes brightened when he smiled, just like Rupert. The way Posie danced with her shoulders whenever music was playing, just like you. The way the dogs create a protective barrier around both children when they’re asleep in the playroom. And, today would similarly not be short of familial joy. The spring sun was blazing, so you had lay a red tartan picnic blanket outside, alongside a wicker hamper filled with sandwiches, sausage rolls, lemonade and jam. Rupert had Posie in his arms, and was strolling briskly through the gardens, allowing her to bunch various flowers within her surprisingly strong fists. As he eventually took a seat on the bench just outside the French doors, Posie picking at the head of a tulip, Rupert sighed loudly, his eyes fixed on you playing with a collection of cast metal cars alongside Arthur, giggling fantastically as your son crashed them together. “You know, angel, some years ago I sat here. All alone. For lack of better words, I’d been a very naughty boy. I never, ever thought I’d be sat here with you all. My family.” He spoke solemnly to your babbling daughter. Posie lay her head against his chest as if, in some strange way, she’d understood it all. Keeping her head tightly to his chest, Rupert pandered back to the picnic blanket.

“Are you okay, love?” You asked, chuckling as Arthur crawled over to his father and rested his head upon his lap. You inched closer towards your husband, taking time to individually kiss everyone on their foreheads. “Most definitely.” Rupert beamed in response. “I love you all. So much.” He continued. Posie began her signature belly laugh as Arthur stuck his tongue out towards her. “My God. I love you all.” He spoke again.