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jarofstyles · 6 months

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FICTOBER DAY 23 - Don't Hide That Smile

some cute comforting H <3 sorry for being days late my loves

FICTOBER

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“Y/N…. Come on.” Harry pleaded. “I think that got a smile out of you, don’t hide it away!”

It did, in fact, get a smile out of her. But the absolute fail of a costume had made her very, very upset at first.

In hindsight, Y/N knew that attempting a full costume as a first sewing project was ambitious to say the least. What was supposed to be a floor length gown ended up looking like a giant tube, the seams wonky and her poor attempt of dying the fabric last minute making the fabric look like it had been a weird bleach accident. It was the night before halloween and they’d had a check in, Harry wanting to see and Y/N bursting into tears when he’d aside to see the finished product.

To make matters worse, she had pretended she had it all under control. To a fashion student Harry. She’d wanted to impress him, but she had made a fool out of herself and told Harry she was a phony, which he quickly reassured she wasn’t and thought it was cute she wanted to impress him. When he’d asked to see it, if maybe he could help fix it, she assured him he couldn’t, but it still didn’t help when his reaction to the dress had been a wide eyed “Oh….”

That had sent another bout of tears, making Harry panic at now being the source of them, so he tried to mend his error.

“I didn’t mean a bad, oh!”

“I mean, I’m shocked but I wasn’t trying to be mean!”

“It isn’t awful, please don’t cry.

“Babe, it’s camp… no. It’s French.”

The reference to Fleabag made her crying stop for a moment, trying not to laugh. She still felt like a failure when he gently dragged her hands off of her face and tried to wipe her tears, frowning as he really didn’t like to see Y/N upset. No one would. She looked so sad and heart wrenching when she cried, her eyes rounding and the little pout- no.

“I-It can’t be saved, Harry. I watched project runway and i thought I could do it cheaper but-but its so hard to sew on the little machine I got and-and fabric is so, so expensive!” That was a fact Harry knew firsthand. No wonder he tries to get thrifted things so often. “I thought helping my grandma when I was younger would have paid off but no. So now I look dumb, I cried in front of you and I’ve got no costume. It’s too late to go gething now, they’re all gonna suck.” She sniffled, making his heart throb when her sad look hit him.

He couldn’t lie- the dress was bad. Awful. He didn’t know how she overestimated or cut the length so long, or why the ruffles were sewn over each other or how the bodice was crooked, but somehow she had created an atrocity. But it was abstract, if you’d want to think of it that way- and god, he needed to to calm her down. Functionally, the dress was useless, but in a matter of art, anything could be good.

There was no way he wouldn’t be flattered that she had done this to impress him. It was beyond cute and sweet and he just wanted to squish her cheeks and kiss her little lips but he held it together. “It’s okay, sweets. You aren’t dumb, we’re all set with the crying now, and we can find you a costume. It’s totally okay. We can match…” He tried to think of what else they could be. Their original was prince and princess, but he had to think on his toes. Looking around, he prayed for inspiration and to actually be quick on his feet sometimes- and thankfully it was answered as he looked at her muted TV.

“Pam and Jim!” he exclaimed. “Yes- you have the things to be the cat, I can do the paper shirt thing. What do you think?”

Y/N seemed to mull it over, sniffling again as her eyes scanned Harry’s face. That had been quick, but… “That’s a good idea.” She smiled slightly, making him sag with relief. He couldn’t handle seeing her sad. “A-are you sure, though? I know it’s a downgrade from the other costume we planned. I’m sorry.” Y/N really did feel stupid about it but it really didn’t seem like Harry minded.

“Not a big deal, baby. Promise.” His hands smoothed her hair back, smiling lightly down at her. Halloween wasn’t his thing and he had agreed to go to the costume party with her so he’d made his costume, but he was sort of relieved considering his prince outfit could get a bit hot. “All that matters is we’re going to be together and ditch Niall’s as soon as we’re ready eat our body weight in sweets. I ordered that variety bag, y’know?”

Her eyes lit up at the mention, making her nod. “Does it have Kit-Kats?” She whispered, her grin widening when he nodded back. “Okay. It sounds good to me then.” Her face plastered to Harry’s chest, body sagging in relief. The secret was out, the embarrassment was over, and now she could finally breathe again. Although.. “When he said he was going all out for the pe party.. I just really hope Niall doesn’t get one of those fog machines inside the house. You can’t breathe with that stuff on”

“About that….” Harry hissed, pretending to wince.

“For fucks sake. Maybe we are ditching super early.” “I’ve got no problem with that.”

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missluckycharms · 2 years

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Mary On A Cross.

Summary: A priest who can't keep his word and a woman who likes to test everyone's patience.

Content warnings: talks about religion (not much) use of religious words, doing unholy things in a church, if you're not comfortable with this please click away now, I won't be offended <;33

Smut warnings: oral sex.

A/N: this is somewhat inspired by Fleabag, it isn't dark Harry so don't worry!! I don't condone this type of behaviour but it's all fiction!

Part two.

Y/N would consider herself to be a good person.

Sure she would, we all think we're good people no matter what we know about ourselves. We love to tell people about our good sides, leaving the not so good sides tucked deep down in hopes they never get remembered.

Y/N did in fact have a not so good side, one she knows if people in her small town found out about, they would for sure have her hunted out of there faster than she could even blink.

It wasn't the people who lived around her that she worried about figuring out this side to her, no, it was her family; they don't need to know this side to her, they never will know this side to her.

Only one person knows about this side to her and that's her best friend, Florence. She never meant to let her in on the side of her that would have everyone looking at her weird, but one night it just slipped out.

"I want to fuck a priest."

Florence didn't even bat an eyelid when Y/N confessed this, she simply sipped her wine, placed it down onto the coffee table and sat back in her seat, looking at her best friend before speaking her next words:

"Catholic?"

Y/N nods.

"A good one?"

"Yes." She speaks quickly, trying to judge her friends reaction.

"Looks good in the ..." she says while gesturing to her lap that was concealed by her blush pink nightgown.

"Yes." Y/N blurts out, looking away from Florence.

"Mmmh." Is all Florence says for a few seconds as she leans forward, downing the rest of her red wine in one gulp.

"Do you want to fuck a priest, or do you want to fuck god?"

Y/N doesn't know what to say to that, she sits back on the sofa, hand clutching her wine glass in true shock and confusion as she lets Florence's words sink in.

"Can you fuck god?"

Florence shrugs and opens up another bottle of red wine, the cork popping making Y/N jump back into reality as she sits in Florence's home.

"If you fuck him, it might feel like you've fucked God."

That sentence hasn't left Y/N’s brain for weeks now, even as she sits in church, beside her family as the priest she's been drooling over for months now speaks the word of the lord, his eyes scanning the people sat before him as they listen intently.

It's when his eyes land on her for a split second that she feels her entire body freeze, her mind goes blank as she stares down at her lap.

"Y/N, let's go say hello to the Father, thank him for such a beautiful evening." Her mother shakes her from her thoughts, did an hour really go past that fast?

Before she knows it, she's standing in front of the man she's been dreaming and fantasising about, dressed in all black as he smiles his award winning smile, dimples popping out as his gelled back hair sits neatly on his head, and when one strand comes lose and dangles on his forehead, Y/N knows one thing is for sure.

She doesn't want to fuck god, she wants to fuck him.

"Thank you for attending Miss, did you enjoy the congregation this evening?" His attention is now on her, her face turning red as she listens to his deep British voice echo around her.

"Yeah it was, great Father, thank you." She tries to shut it down there, her hands as sweaty as anything as she tries to get away soon.

"Please, don't call me Father after my job is done, unless you want to."

Did that come across as sexual? It did.

Or maybe her mind is just thinking that way.

"What should I call you then?"

"Harry, only if you want to." He smiles brightly, turning on his heels to head towards another group of people but not before shooting her a glance over his shoulder, making her nearly melt on the spot.

She needed him, in ways that are far too unholy.

—

"Should I go to confession?"

"And what? Confess you want to suck his dick?"

"It could be easier, than saying it directly to his face."

Florence laughs, setting down a plate of food before Y/N as they settle in to have a meal together, something that happens once a week, mainly to gossip but for the last three weeks, it's been about Y/N's reoccurring urge.

"I'm not saying you should, but it could be way to see his reaction, if he's appalled; you just leave and the worst case scenario is you get denied communion."

Y/N had not thought about that part, what would she tell her Mother when it was time for communion?

'Sorry, but I confessed to the priest I want to fuck him and he doesn't even want to look at me anymore. But hey, praise the Lord!'

"Best case scenario, he fucks you on the alter." She bluntly says, eating her food from the fork with an unbothered expression, not matching Y/N’s panicked one.

That's how Y/N found herself here, sat in the confession booth, wall between her and the priest as she awaits him to speak first, her hands clammy with nerves as she tries not to move around too much.

"Good afternoon."

His voice comes way too quick for her liking, her throat drying up as she tries to force a greeting from between her lips that feel as if they're cemented together.

"Good afternoon, Father." She coughs slightly, hoping he hadn't heard her as she swallows down every ounce of anxiety running through her veins.

"What brings you here today? Whatever is spoken in this booth, is between us and the lord only."

He's gonna regret saying that, sorry to the big guy upstairs.

"I just need to get something off my chest."

"That tends to be what this is for." He chuckles softly, the sound making a sweat break out on her forehead.

He has no clue.

"I've been having these reoccurring thoughts lately."

The silence she's met with urges her to speak on, knowing he's listening as she bows her head in almost shame before speaking her next few words.

"I'm sorry for the language I'm about to use but, my thoughts have been consumed with the urge to ... fuck a priest." She rushes out the last few words.

Again, she's met with silence, the sound of rustling before it's silent again. She's sure he's left, she's fucked it all up now, waiting to be asked to leave by him as she sits in her own pity.

Her head flies up when light trickles in on top of her, the sound of the booth door opening echoing around the church, revealing Father Styles before her, looking down on her as she sits inside.

A beat of silence passes before he speaks one word that has her heart racing faster than it has the last few minutes.

"Kneel."

"Excuse me-"

"I said, kneel."

Before she can speak another word, she's obeying, kneeling down as he comes to step into the small booth with her, shutting the door behind him, leaving them in the near dark together.

"It's time to repent your sins, you better start praying hard, because I don't play nice."

The sound of him unbuckling his belt is sure to make God himself roll his eyes and sigh but for Marianne? It makes her mouth water and stomach erupt into butterflies.

She doesn't even need to find his cock as he softly takes her head, waiting for her reaction before guiding her to it, his breath shaky as her lips come into contact with it.

"You need some good punishment huh? Fantasising about sucking and fucking the cock of a priest? Filthy girl huh? You're right where you should be ... down on your knees for me ... fuck-"

Hearing him say that word has her opening her mouth wider, his hand in his hair gripping tighter as she swallows around him, loving the feel of him on her tongue as she goes lower and lower for him.

"That's it, suck it like a good girl. Christ, you're an Angel." She nearly laughs at his words, but when he lets out a deep moan, one that she wants to hear again and again, she focuses on her task at hand.

His other hand that's not in her hair, slaps against the wall of the booth, the clear sound of his rings clinking against the wood has her eyes rolling and a soft moan escaping her own lips.

"Like that huh? Like having a priests cock down your throat? Like knowing your sinning and that if anyone knew about this, we'd both be fucked?"

His mouth is dirty and she loves it so much, she's not surprised really, she was hoping he'd had a dirty mouth but hearing it in reality? She's a little shocked but it makes the whole thing so much hotter.

A man that devoted his life to God, sworn to never have romantic relations and would be stripped of his title if anyone found out his cock was down a church goers throat?

Yeah, this is so much hotter than her dreams.

"Bet you look so pretty right now, lips around my cock, your pretty eyes probably tearing up over how deep it's in there ... a fucking dream." He moans out, throat dry and his words raspy as he sighs out in pure bliss.

It's only a few more minutes of filth being spewed from his mouth before he's cumming into hers, making her take it all with a firm hand on her head as he buries his cock in her throat, rutting his hips until he's rode out his orgasm to his liking.

"Now, go home and say twelve Holy Mary's, to repent your sins." He says while buttoning back up his trousers, the sound of his rings against the metal of his belt filling the booth.

"Thank you, Father."

He leaves her on her knees in the booth, his smirk widening as the light shines on her once again, mascara smudged under her eyes, along with her messed up red lipstick followed by her messy hair.

"See you next week."

And that he will, he definitely will.

#harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles imagine #harry styles fandom #fan fic author #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you

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midnightbears · 11 days

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✿ tell 'em how the crowds went wild! tell 'em how i hope they shine!

⎯ in which you look back on how grateful you are for the opportunity bestowed upon you. aka: you joined the opla's cast!

#STARRING. iñaki godoy, mackenyu, jacob romero, taz skylar, emily rudd ft. fem!reader [elle fanning 4 faceclaim but u can imagine y/n anyway u wish!].

#TAGS. sfw, kind of context, a bit of smau but its tiny. mentions of covid just in case it's triggering?

#NOTE. pardon my rusty writing but i really wanted to get this out!!! i added an oc from one piece for the sake of the story but she's barely mentioned so uuuh yuh! timeline may be wrong but i work with what i'm given please bear with me. let me know if you would like more fics of this y/n??? ALSO IGNORE THE WATERMARKS ON THE PHOTOS I NEEDED TO MAKE THEM NEATER

In the past, if someone were to come up to you and tell you that you’d be a part of the One Piece Live Action main cast in the future, you would’ve probably laughed in their faces despite your wishful thinking.

At that time, you were content with your work, doing short theatre plays with companies or gaining minor roles in musicals. Everything changed when you landed the role for the one-woman show Fleabag for a limited time on London’s West End after the leading actress underwent emergency surgery for an appendectomy. You only acted as the sex-obsessed mess of a woman for about three weeks, but it was enough time for people to notice you, to really see you.

You believed your career had reached its pinnacle when you were cast as Katherine Howard in Six: The Musical in London. Your name had become somehow well-known in the musical theatre world, and you had a small but dedicated fan base who liked uploading edits of you being a dork during the Megasix on YouTube and TikTok.

Months later, you were bound to play as Fantine for Les Miserables when COVID abruptly struck, and you were dismayed that your job was ripped from you so abruptly. Your best friend, the sweetest person on earth, insisted on you moving in with her in fear that you’d be evicted from your apartment.

Months passed, and you eventually found a small way to help your friend pay rent by offering singing and acting lessons online to musical-aspiring teenagers. Since you had gained many followers from your earlier work on social media, it didn’t surprise you when the classes became sold out.

Your friend also convinced you to create a YouTube channel for you to upload videos of yourself (sometimes joined by her) where you watched and commented shitty movies, followed DIY tutorials just for the fun of it, performed covers of your favorite songs, and just generally vlogged your life (along with reactions to Taylor Swift’s (From The Vault) songs).

At first, you thought it was pretty stupid, but you were delightfully proved wrong when your videos harbored over 200k-300k views on a bad day, so you found no reason to stop as COVID-19 continued, growing to gain a little over five hundred thousand followers. Your reactions were often used for TikTok audios or clips, so you found your popularity growing and evolving during that year.

You believed yourself to be a general, simple woman. People liked you because you were elegant and levelheaded, although you could sometimes be chaotic. You also had a subtle sense of humor that many found charming. But mostly, you grew a steady fan base because your videos and presence comforted countless young adults and teenagers.

You were an optimist and a reassuring one, so during the times when COVID was so prominent, people sought refuge from the monstrosities of the world in your videos, where you seemed to connect with them even though you were on the other side of the screen.

However, everything changed somewhere in 2020-2021. That evening, your best friend got home from work with excitement practically oozing out of her every pore. You and your best friend were avid anime watchers and manga readers, so you couldn’t help the face you made when she told you that One Piece was getting a live-action.

Although you were skeptical, your friend practically insisted you send an audition tape. You grimaced at that. It was well-known that live anime actions were almost always corny and cringeworthy compared to the original work, and people never liked them. You had learned that much from Death Note and a couple of others. However, your best friend convinced you with this argument:

“If it’s that bad, then at least you’ll gain more followers out of the memes that people will make, and if it’s good, you’ll still get famous anyway!”

Eventually, you sent a video of you performing one of the lengthy monologues from Fleabag to your agency and simply hoped for the best. Your friend was practically rooting for you to get the role of Anastasia, one of the first integrants of the Straw Hat crew, joining before Sanji and after Usopp. You adored her as she greatly reminded you of your late mother, although you would be happy with any role.

Somewhere in November 2021, you remember a lot of screaming and crying. When you try to look back on it, all you remember is the happiness you felt when you received confirmation of the role of Anastasia. You were practically over the moon, and you and your friend celebrated inside your small apartment. You were entirely alone, just two drunk girls dancing and cheering, until one of the neighbors knocked on the ceiling with a broom.

liked by inakigo, emilyrudd and 574,949 others

yourusername actually lost for words and filled to the brim with gratitude...... i cannot express how excited i am to play my girl anastasia and bring her to life. from the bottom of my heart, thank you to everyone who has supported me. your faith in me means everything. congrats to iñaki, emily, jacob, mackenyu and taz, thank you to onepiecenetflix, thank you to my best friend for convincing me to audition for the role, and thank you, oda sensei, for putting anastasia's heart in my hands. love u all <3

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November 10, 2021

y/nsfanclub.02, AAAAAAAA SO EXCITED FOR THIS I ACTUALLY CANT BELIEVE IT

⤷ starl6ighwnb, LIKE FR IM GNAWING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE THIS IS INSANE

user8392y3r927y, HELLO YOUR GRACE ANASTASIA

inakigo, Congrats!!!!!!!!

taz_skylar, 🔥🔥🔥

The One Piece fan base dearly loved the character of Anastasia, a well-mannered, bubbly, upbeat, fashion-loving duchess who always spoke in a Transatlantic accent but also had a quick wit and a bit of a sweet tooth. Anastasia’s dream was to become the most dangerous pirate to ever grace the seas and prove everyone who doubted her wrong.

Of course, with a big character came a big responsibility.

Sometimes, insecurity nearly got the better of you. You had to fill huge shoes, and there were many people to convince and impress. However, your love for this project was bigger than the gnawing uncertainty on the back of your neck, so you continued strongly until the end of Season One, finding comfort in your cast mates and the countless people who counted on you and, most importantly, believed in you.

Oda handpicked you, and that argument alone was enough to shoot any insecurities away.

Well, needless to say, people loved you!

Critics acclaimed your portrayal of the character, as well as the commendable chemistry you shared with the rest of the cast. The fans found it incredibly funny that your character was the complete opposite of how you actually acted in real life, and you often found yourself blissfully immersed in the fan base's love and praise.

Your channel and social media suddenly grew tenfold. Although you had stopped uploading videos every week due to the recording of season one, your followers were more than happy to wait for your return, and as one would expect, they were thrilled to have you back once you did upload a vlog explaining everything.

Over the course of the six months, you had been recording from time to time for a YouTube video in the set. Previously, you had asked the producers for permission to record some behind-the-scenes for your channel and your usual interactions with the rest of the cast with your personal Sony camera, as you felt it would be a nice way to bring the fans and the cast closer.

The producers gave the okay on the condition that you would wait until the first season aired on Netflix. You happily agreed and carefully began recording some scenes of your dressers and hairdressers as they prepared you, a few shots of your instructor showing you how you were supposed to use the guns that Anastasia employed... simple things.

Back in the day, you were still getting acquainted with the other cast members, and you didn't want to seem rude by forcibly making them appear on your videos, so you waited for a few weeks until you could properly call yourself companions. Then, you invited them to appear in the videos.

Iñaki, Taz, and Jacob liked to take advantage of the little free time they had between scenes they didn't appear in to innocently steal your camera and use it to their heart's content. One day, you got home only to find the memory card was completely full. It was an extensive video of them walking around the set, with Taz recording while Kiki and Jacob pointed out random stuff to the people who lived inside your camera, as Jacob liked to call them.

Mackenyu, being more reserved and introverted, mostly liked to act as a cameraman for you as you showed the props you used and other things, often making comments or turning the camera around whenever you referred to something.

Meanwhile, Emily had a natural knack for being in front of the camera. Whenever you asked her to join in, she effortlessly slipped into the co-host role, bantering with you and adding her own insights into the behind-the-scenes world of the show.

With the first season out of the way, you took the time to carefully pick what videos you wanted to use in the final tape, and it took you a little over a month and a half to properly edit it and turn it into a wonderful thirty-minute-long behind-the-scenes. You even sent it to the producers and your co-stars in case there was a scene they wanted deleted. Fortunately, they all gave you the okay.

You teased the video a bit on your Instagram before uploading it a few days later, and the support it received was out of this world. It gained over two million views and hundreds of thousands of likes.

You were kind of expecting this. While some BTS had already been uploaded on YouTube, yours was different because you were showing it from your perspective. The fans loved every second of it, and even started asking for a second or third part. You even saw new videos on YouTube of recompilations from your video with the titles being silly things like The One Piece Cast Being Chaotic for Seven Minutes.

At that moment, your life felt so full. You were getting contacted by industries who wanted you to appear on their videos and their stages, thousands of fans who loved you, and a feeling so peculiar that this would be eternal.

liked by taz_skylar, morganlogoff and 1,523,199 others

yourusername missing my wig and my gang hours ☹️

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November 10, 2023

morganlogoff, love love love you💗💗💗

curlikaqy, NO ONE KNOWS I'M YOUR BIGGEST FAN

emilyrudd, GIRL I WANT TO SEE YOU COME BACK TO AMERICA

bookofjacob, missing your camera hours💔

#one piece #one piece live action #one piece la #opla #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece live action x reader #one piece live action x you #iñaki godoy #emily rudd #jacob romero gibson #jacob romero #taz skylar #mackenyu #one piece x y/n #opla x reader #opla x you #midnightbears

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theharddeck · 1 year

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as if it doesn't turn you on, just to say it

basically I saw @hangmanapologist 's post (💙) and immediately opened a Google doc. the s t u n n i n g Rhett/Lewis edit is from Robyn as well!!

pairing: Bob Floyd x fem!reader

summary: you convince Bob to dress up as your favorite show for a Halloween…and he looks way better than you could’ve prepared for

warnings: 18+ minors please DNI!! smut, swearing, explicit unprotected piv sex, explicit oral (m!receiving) sex, and mild sacrilege.

unofficial tag list (lmk if you want to be added or removed, i just tagged people who are equally feral for bob or who were nice to me once about my work): @wildbornsiren @peakyrogers @javihoney @fuckyeahhangman @thedroneranger @princessofglitterland @gigisimsonmars @thedroneranger @laracrofted @bioodforbiood @winterrebel04 @javihoney @withahappyrefrain @rhettabbotts @roosterforme @bradshawsbitch

Bob’s voice was muted as he spoke through the bathroom door. You stood in front of the full length mirror in your shared bedroom, rubbing absently at your red lipstick, a matte liquid product that stuck to your lips with apparently industrial strength. You hoped the same could be said of the boob tape you were placing entirely too much trust in, for something that was $16, and from Target. You tilted your head at your reflection, pleased with the overall effect.

Rationally, you knew it was just a black jumpsuit—a halter neckline, a wide pant leg, a strategic opening over the breastbone—but with the red lipstick and fake cigarette, it felt like a suit of armor.

It was as if Phoebe Waller Bridge herself was your fairy godmother, and had appeared in a thought bubble in your subconscious to tell you that you looked smashing, or something equally British and charming.

And, since your boyfriend had been convinced to don a matching costume, you were ready to see his look for the night.

“What do you mean?” you called, fussing with the approximation of Fleabag’s haircut you’d achieved with an array of pins.

“It just looks like a priest’s robe,” Bob’s voice came through the door again, confusion and indecision in his tone. “I’m really not sure what the effect is supposed to be.”

You smiled to yourself. “Why don’t you let me tell you how effective it is?” you asked.

You heard the bathroom door creak open, and Bob’s head stuck out of it. His costume was hidden by the door, but his eyes met yours in the mirror, before running down over the jumpsuit.

“You look amazing,” he said softly, and you smiled as you turned to face him. His compliments always settled over you like sunshine, warming you from your skin inwards, his sweet conviction brokering no room for argument.

“Thank you,” you smoothed your hands over the front of your slacks. “Can I see yours?”

Bob’s nose wrinkled slightly, and he turned his head sideways, leaning against the door, using it like a shield.

“I just look like a priest,” he complained meekly, “while you look so hot.”

“A million fanfics would suggest that those are not mutually exclusive,” you cajoled. “Come on, let me see it.”

Bob sighed, opening the door, and while you wished your reaction was for the sake of dramatics, it was entirely lacking in pretense.

He looked so good.

You’d known Hot Priest would be a great costume for your boyfriend, since the Andrew Scott trifecta of broad shoulders, big hands, and a soft smile was practically custom-made for Bob. But you hadn’t been prepared for just how well it would suit him.

The high white collar was stretched across his throat, emphasizing the width of his neck, and leading down to his shoulders. The black robe was unassuming enough, but it wasn’t enough to hide the definition of Bob’s shoulders and chest. If anything, it highlighted them by contrast. You’d always been attracted to the dichotomies within Bob—his strength and his softness, his gentleness and his discipline—and the vestment was putting them on blast.

He looked like a good man who fucked, and you must've had quaker ancestors, because it was really, really working for you.

The only other exposed skin was his hands, which was a whole other blessing.

He had great hands.

His long fingers were fidgeting under your perusal, and you dragged your eyes back up his body as Bob waited for your verdict. His hair was a little longer than normal, and you noticed the ends of it curling up around that damn collar, and you were practically itching to run your fingers through it.

“Alright,” Bob grumbled, somehow uncertain as to how to interpret your reaction, “let’s have it.”

“Babe,” you shook your head. “I literally cannot even tell you how good you look.”

Bob’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses, looking down at himself. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” you assured him. “Like… like the female gaze personified; it’s actually ridiculous.”

He pushed his glasses up on his nose, shifting between his feet and pulling at the collar.

Just that simple motion, a long finger tucked under that white fabric, and you wanted to call Penny and tell her you were sorry, but you and Bob actually couldn’t come to the Hard Deck’s Halloween party tonight.

Instead, you crossed the room, determined to be PG, and wound your hands around his neck, smiling up at him. “Thank you for agreeing to this,” you said.

Bob’s hands came around your waist easily, his shoulders relaxing as he felt the press of your body against his.

“Of course,” he said automatically, and you knew he meant it. He was simple like that—if it would make you happy, he’d do it. You squeezed your arms a little tighter around him, and Bob immediately adjusted his grip, always willing to match you.

You shook your head, looking up at him fondly. “You’re too good to me,” you told him, honestly.

“You make it easy,” Bob said, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. Bob’s hand ran up and down your spine slowly, a soft touch allowed by the open back of the jumpsuit. You snuggled into him, grateful and enamored and a hundred other things much wholesome than your reaction to his costume. You stayed that way for a long moment, wrapped in each others’ arms and your own thoughts, quietly charging before you’d face the adventure of Halloween with the rest of the dagger squad.

+++++

“We are good friends,” you announced, as Bob locked the door to the apartment, some four hours later.

“Absolutely top drawer,” Bob agreed.

The two of you had braved a costume contest (Jake and Javy won), obligatory thematic drinks (neither you nor Bob loved the taste of gin, but you couldn’t do Fleabag and not sip G&Ts), and Rooster playing his entire repertoire of spooky Halloween songs on The Hard Deck’s piano (twice).

It had been fun, it had.

It had also been exhausting.

You kicked off your heels without finesse, and Bob sighed tiredly as he leaned over to undo the laces of his dress shoes. You smiled at the image of him, his large body bent over in the small hallway to arrange the shoe rack; he lifted a hand in your direction without looking up, and you slid your heels over to him with your toe.

He looked up at you, smiling briefly, and his thumb brushed over your ankle in acknowledgment as he arranged your shoes next to his.

You held out a hand to pull him up and he took it, straightening and stretching his back as he rose. His arm draped loosely over your shoulder as you walked down the hall, his fingers still playing with the hand you’d offered him.

“The costumes were a hit,” he mused. “I couldn’t believe how many people had seen that show.”

You nodded, knowing he could feel the motion from your head on his shoulder. “It won like forty Emmys, with good reason.”

“Alright, you have great taste,” Bob teased softly. “No need to rub it in.”

You laughed as the two of you tried to fit through the bedroom door at once, not quite small enough to make it through without some maneuvering. Once through, you rose up on your toes to press a kiss to Bob’s cheek.

“Thanks again,” you whispered. “For doing the costume thing.”

When you settled back on your heels, Bob followed you, his head ducking to capture your lips again.

It was one of your favorite things about Bob, that he kissed you just to kiss you, to say any number of things he meant, with simple affection. He broke the kiss softly, his forehead still against yours, and one of his hands tucked some of your hair behind your ear.

“You don’t have to thank me for doing something that makes you happy,” he said quietly, and your heart just melted. He was so special, so sweet without even trying.

“Love you,” you said simply, and Bob hummed, before kissing you again.

“Love you, too,” he said.

You stood there for a moment, smiling sappily at each other, before Bob laughed to himself. “Although, maybe next year, we go for a costume that I can wear more than once?”

“I mean,” you shrugged, looking at his costume appreciatively, “let the record show that I am all for you bringing this look out, unprompted, whenever you want.”

Bob chuckled. “I’ll bear that in mind. Come on, let’s get changed.”

He leaned in to kiss you again quickly, but your fingers tightened on the front of his robe when he pulled back, an idea streaking across your mind.

“Or…” you trailed off, not sure if you wanted to open the door, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you considered. Bob’s hand eased its way up the side of your neck, his thumb tracing across your lip until you released it.

“Or?” he prompted, quietly.

“Or you could keep it on,” you said in a rush.

Bob’s hand on your jaw stilled, and he pulled back slightly to look at your face. Whatever he saw had his eyes widening, his breath catching, and then his mouth curved into a small smile.

“Thought you were tired, honey,” he teased, his thumb brushing your cheek.

“I am,” you admitted, pausing. “But I know a good way to get me to sleep.”

Bob laughed against your skin, a fond sound, before bending down. His lips trailed warm kisses across your collarbone as his hands slipped behind you to undo the jumpsuit. You knew what he was doing, giving you time to decide if you wanted to get ready for bed or for sleep, since either would need you out of the jumpsuit, but your body responded to his touch without rationale. He hummed when you leaned into his touch and he pulled back to look at you.

“Incorrigible,” he said, and you smiled, unbothered.

“Is that a no?” you asked.

Bob’s fingers were still fiddling with the fastenings of the jumpsuit and you knew you could help him, but you liked how close he was, how his hands felt, how everything had felt since he opened the bathroom door hours ago, looking like this.

“It’s not a no,” he whispered. He got the final clasp and the garment fluttered down your body, pooling around your ankles.

Bob’s hands immediately smoothed over you, his touch warming your bared skin, and you shivered at the contrast. His long fingers ran up your sides, his broad palms settling over your breasts; you leaned into his touch as he lifted them, your eyes falling shut as you breathed his name.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” Bob asked softly. “I know we watched the show together, but how much are you wanting this to draw from it—is this roleplay, just the idea, what–”

“Anything,” you whispered, your voice breathier than you expected. Bob’s hands tightened on you, at your eagerness, and when you looked up at him, you saw the desire in his expression.

“Okay,” Bob said, his voice soft, as he pressed another kiss to your lips, reassuring. “You just tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

You nodded, appreciating him checking in, but knowing you didn’t need it. You’d always been able to be honest with Bob, about what you needed or wanted, and you knew this wouldn’t be any different.

He lifted his chin, his eyes running down to your mouth as he licked his lips, before saying in a low voice, “Kneel.”

You whimpered.

Actually whimpered, a sound that ripped out of you at the perfect contrast of your doting boyfriend with the steely command from the show, one that brokered no discussion. Bob’s eyes darkened at the sound, but he raised an eyebrow, and you complied, sinking to the floor of your bedroom. You saw his jaw clench at the immediacy of your response, but that was the only indicator that he was affected, every other component of his expression radiating control.

“Good girl,” he said, and your lashes fluttered at his low tone. Bob’s nails brushed across your forehead as his fingers ghosted over the top of your head, settling at the back of your scalp.

“Or maybe not,” he said, in that same, low tone, a hint of unfamiliar condescension creeping in, “you got on your knees awful quick there, honey.”

Your head tilted back at his touch, one of your hands coming up to balance yourself by resting on the front of his thigh. Through the black cloth you could feel his strong thighs, tensing under the brush of your fingers, and when you looked back up at him, he was watching you through half-closed eyes.

“So pretty,” he said softly, almost to himself. “Take it out.”

You reached for him eagerly, finding the buttons in the robe and undoing them to find the loose slacks underneath. Your hands were nearly trembling with excitement as you felt the hot length of him through his trousers, and Bob drew in a sharp breath when your fingers brushed over his erection. Bulge was such an unglamorous word, but it was only accurate as you ran your hand over the length of him. You couldn’t help but lean forward to press a kiss against the straining material of the trousers.

Bob groaned quietly, a faint sound that streaked ribbons of heat through you, and you returned to your initial prerogative. When you finally pulled him free of the vestment, you sat back on your thighs, admiring his thick length in your hand. Long and broad, veins tracing up the side of it, a drop of moisture pearled at the tip, and you were practically salivating as you leaned towards him again.

Your hand angled at the base of his cock and you licked your lips as you leaned towards him, but Bob’s hand on your hair tightened, pulling you back. He held you in place and you looked up at him to see him shaking his head.

“Ask me nice,” he said, his hand tightening in your hair. His jaw was slack but his eyes were sharp as he watched you, wanting it as bad as you did, knowing how begging would make you feel.

“Want to taste you,” you whined, a breath away from him. You wanted the weight of him on your tongue, your lips stretching around him, your name on his moan when you made him feel good. “Please, Bobby.”

He shook his head, readjusting his grip on your hair.

“Who?” he asked, his voice low.

“Fuck,” you clenched your thighs together, as his words rolled over you. “Father,” you tried, and Bob groaned, a long low sound.

“That’s right, baby,” he gritted, and his hips snapped forward.

Your mouth had been open, tongue eager, but he pushed past your lips so quickly that you barely registered the salty taste of him on your tongue before his thick cock was pressing at the back of your throat. Tears pricked at your eyelids, but you hollowed your cheeks as Bob pressed into your throat, your hands steadying yourself on his thighs again.

You moaned around him, feeling your panties growing damp at the weight of him. He was so big, and he was trying to stay still, but his cock twitched in your mouth, little pulses that had your thighs quivering.

Bob pulled back, all the way out of your mouth, and you gasped in a breath of air when his cock pulled free. With his hand in your hair holding you steady, he traced your lips with his cock. The swollen head rubbed against your lips, your saliva ran between your mouth and his cock, messy.

“Baby, this mouth,” Bob moaned. “You gonna let me fuck it?”

“Please,” you whispered, another pulse of arousal going through you when your polite boyfriend swore, opening your mouth wider as Bob dragged his cock against it again.

“That’s what I thought you’d say,” Bob said, and he pushed back into you again.

You held your breath as he eased into you, stretching your jaw and pushing back into your throat. When he was seated, you heard him sigh, something breathy and beautiful, and you swallowed obediently. His hips jerked forward as you tightened around him, and his other hand came down to hold the side of your face.

“Doing so good for me, beautiful girl,” he praised softly, as he pulled back. He held you in place with his hands, his thighs pumping his cock into your open mouth, and your eyes filled with tears as he choked you on his cock.

He was so big, something you often forgot due to the gentleness with which he handled you, but when he got like this, it was unavoidable. His hands nearly spanned the back of your head, his thumbs coming forward to wipe your tears as they spilled out of your eyes, his large cock blocking air through your throat. You moaned as his thrusts got faster, knowing he loved this enough to be rough, to be wild for once, that your body was the vessel he was using for his pleasure.

When you looked up at him, he was looking down at you, his eyes dark and cheeks bright with color.

“Fuck, baby,” he panted, and you whined at the obsenity, “you’re taking me so well, honey, making me feel so good, that pretty lipstick stretched around my dick—”

Your head was swimming from the lack of air and his praise, and your hands tightened on his thighs, as his head fell back. He hit the back of your throat one more time, and another, and then he pulled out of you sharply, your body weaving when he let go of your hair. You looked up at him through streaming eyes, and Bob groaned looking down at you.

He moved fast, his hands hooking under your arms and practically dragging you over to the bed. You still felt hazy when you landed on your back, the comforter soft under your body, and a moment later Bob lowered his body over yours.

“Bet you’re all ready for me,” he said, his voice hoarse as his hand slotted between your legs. He jerked your underwear aside and you both groaned when one of his long fingers pulled through your folds. Bob’s head fell to your shoulder, and you felt him press a soft kiss there, even as shudder worked over his upper body.

“What got you this wet, huh, baby?” he asked, his voice muffled by your skin, his other hand reaching up to pull off his glasses and set them on the nightstand. “You like being on your knees for me this much? Feeling my cock in that pretty mouth, knowing how well it’ll fill this cunt?”

His fingers pulled through the moisture between your thighs, rubbing through you and teasing your entrance. You gasped when he dragged your arousal up to your clit, pressing tight circles around it as your back arched off the bed.

“Bobby, please, yes—”

He was gone a moment later, ripping your panties down your legs before he pulled you down to the edge of the bed, your legs hanging off of it as he stood between them. Your hair splayed around you, and you watched as he dragged his cock between your folds, still wet from your mouth. When he notched the head at your entrance, your head fell back, and he began to push it in. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you onto him, and you heard him breathing sharply through his nose, keeping himself under control.

“Baby,” he gritted, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you onto him. “Feels as good as sin, this hungry pussy. So wet and tight, pulling me in like you need it...”

You moaned at his words, your hands flailing over the sheets, needing something to hold onto as Bob pushed himself home inside of you. You wanted to sob from the fullness of him inside you, how you could feel him through your whole body, practically feel his heartbeat.

“I do need it, I do,” you babbled, the stretch of him overwhelming and perfect. “Please, Bobby, move, I need you—”

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he whispered, and you reached for him blindly. You clutched at his chest, his shoulders, your hands curling into the robes and moaning when you remembered what he was wearing.

Bob laughed darkly, pulling his hips back slowly. His thick cock dragged against your warm walls and you could feel yourself clenching down on him, craving him.

“The robes are really doing it for you, huh, baby? Thinking of driving all the piety out of a man’s head because he needs this tight pussy more than he needs his god?”

His words were accompanied by a harsh thrust and you cried out as Bob picked up a brutal pace. His hips slapped into yours, his cock stretching you, and his hands tightened on your hips.

He leaned down to kiss you, his lips clashing against yours as he bent your legs back to reach deeper inside you.

“You like the thought of that, don’t you, baby,” he growled, his teeth dragging across your collarbone, “the thought of being so under a man's skin that he can’t wait a minute more without being buried inside of you? Needing to hear those sweet sounds you make while he’s fucking you, begging him to save you from the ache between your thighs?”

His cock was dragging into a deep part of you, brushing against a spot that had you seeing stars. Your legs were trembling from the tight angle but you thought you might die if he didn’t keep going, didn’t save you, just like he said.

You whimpered when his lips closed around your pulse point, biting enough to mark you, and Bob pulled back to look at you. His face was flushed, red and sweating, the most beautiful sight in the world.

“Love you like this,” you moaned, your legs shaking. “Fuck, Bobby, you feel so good, I need you—”

Bob groaned, his head falling beside yours as he rutted into your harder. His tight collar scaped against your neck and you wound your arms around his neck. As his thrusts pushed your body up the bed, his lips found yours again, dragging against you sloppily.

“No amount of holy wine could wipe the taste of you off my tongue, baby,” he gritted against your lips. “Need the sounds of my baby coming undone around my cock; ‘s better than anything else in the world.”

Your eyes rolled back as you clung to him. You felt like sobbing, you felt like your skin was on fire, like the only thing tethering you to this pane was the unrepentant press of his cock deep inside of you, his strong arms around you, his lips against you.

“Cum for me, honey,” he moaned, his voice sounding broken. “Make me sinner and saint, baby, let me feel it.”

You screamed, your back arching off the bed as your orgasm shattered over you. Your head lulled back, you felt the fabric of the robes rending between your fingers as you pulled desperately at Bob. Pleasure rolled over you, white hot and almost painful, all-encompassing and as close to holy as anything you knew.

Bob groaned as you tightened around him, your cunt pulsing as your orgasm wrecked you, pulling him with you.

“So good for me, baby,” he groaned, his hips pistoning faster, and you whined weakly, your body sensitive but needing this closeness, and his climax.

“Want to feel you, Bobby,” you whispered. “Please, baby, want your cum…”

His thighs were trembling and his chest was heaving against yours as he got closer. He ground his hips into yours, his fingers tight enough on your hips to bruise, his breath puffing into your shoulder.

“Asking me so sweetly, honey,” he gritted into your neck, “of course, anything for you, anything, baby, fuck—”

He came with a choked groan, his body tensing as he held himself over you, his hips bucking as he finished. You whimpered at the full feeling, his cock weakly fucking his cum into you, your combined climax leaking out of your core. The room was hot and Bob’s harsh breathing seemed to echo around it; you thought dazedly that that was your favorite sound in the world, the reminder that we was here, breathless, after being with you. He made to roll off of you, but you clung to him, wrapping your shaking legs around him and pulling him tightly to you.

The robes scratched against your chest, but we came willingly, turning slightly to wrap his own arms around you, holding you close.

“Beautiful girl,” he mumbled into your hair. His voice was so deep, so tender, and you drew in a breath, running your hands through his long hair. He nuzzled into you and your arms softened, loving the warmth that came from being with him.

After a moment, you felt his chest shake. You pulled back to look at him, confused to find him silently laughing, and Bob smiled at you gently, pushing some of your sweat-matted hair away from your face.

“That’ll be fourteen Hail Marys,” he teased, “and at least a dozen Our Fathers, don’t you think?”

You rolled your eyes and swatted at his shoulder but your boyfriend chuckled, rolling onto his back and pulling you with him.

“Worth it,” he whispered, his eyes bright and honest as he leaned up to kiss you again, soft and playful, "so damn worth it."

#Robert Bob floyd #Bob floyd smut #Bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #happy Halloween to ME #fleabag #misskielwrites

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fan-a-tink · 1 month

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Young Royals Finale reaction

EP6

Can’t believe the episode is 57 minutes long!!! That is such a blessing!!!! 57 MINUTES!!!

Chucking us right back in there… Simon just left that night? Like…?

„And Simon is right. I have to take responsibility for my own problems. I can’t drag him down with me.“ Pfffuuuuuuhhhhhh that hurts… Like I know he is right.. They are both right…

Love that jumper that Simon is wearing

Seeing Sara and Simon be friends again is so so soooooo healing for my soul.

I love that pep talk that Sara gives Simon about their dad. And maybe the second chance will also apply to Simon’s relationship with Wille?

That poem is by Karin Boye - that’s the one Lisa posted with the trailer....!

Is this the first time Wille and Sara actually spoke to one another? Season 3, episode 6? 😅

So Hillerska is closing down. Even though it shouldn’t be, that is still a shock! But a good one! I love that as a resolution for everything

August having a breakdown in front of everyone after calling them to reason. He is like the only one who can’t stand the discord. And I love him for it

„But everything around here still reminds me of him.“ AAASDIH OIFHAIEFH ASDFV SDF

I’m sorry, but everyone calls their parents or talks to their best friends. Only Wille’s fucking parents don’t bother calling their son. He speaks to fucking Farima again! (Sorry, I love farima, I’m just sooooo over Wille’s parents being shit parents)

Wille looking at Simon through the bookshelves before going up to him… 💜💜💜💜

It breaks my heart that they can’t even say how they feel, they are so broken by this breakup.. But also weirdly, this also feels like one of the first really honest conversations they have

Henry interrupting them is soo funny…. He just has noooo radar :)))

„We could stay here and feel like crap together“ 😂

HE CALLED SIMON THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE!!!!!!!!! I mean, we all knew that, but still - THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE!!!!!!!

Love that Felice called him ‚Party Prince‘ :))) also, it feels like Felice has her personality back :)) Nice to see the real Felice again :)))

Simon lying on the football field and playing with the fake sand…. My heeeaaaaarrrtttt!!!!!

Lol Simon did you really think you got closure? From what?

REVOLUTION IS PLAYING!!!!!

„Erik would’ve loved you no matter what“ - this is the moment where I start crying.

This is such a good apology, August.. And Malte is giving it everything… I love this scene. This is so so so important… Also, I’m crying now, and I probably won’t stop now that I’ve started..

„Yes, I have feelings for August. But I have stronger and more important feelings for you. And for Simon, and for myself.“ As an aroace person, this made my heart sing. FRIENDSHIP!!!!! PREACH!!!

„That was the best day of my life.“ Oh Saraaa….. I love you… I know you and Felice will be fine.. You will be fine, I can feel it!!

Nils officially coming out to Vincent and August 🏳️‍🌈 love it :) even Vincent has a good side, hidden somewhere very deep deep down, but it is there :)

„I see you, but I don’t think you see me. You’re in love with the person you become with me.“ She is soooo right. So right. And it breaks my heart that they won’t be together, but…. She is so right about this

Malte, you are such an incredible actor - how have we all not seen this before?!?!?!?!?!

„It’ll pass“ - that is such an iconic line that I will forgive you for stealing it from fleabag :))

It’s so brave of Simon to go up to Wille.

I cannot even begin to write down my feelings about the next few scenes. I was crying the whole time, shaking, sobbing, all over the place. They are sooo beautiful. The way they look at each other. Cherishing the moment. AND WHEN WILLE STARTED SINGING ‚IT TAKES A FOOL TO REMAIN SANE‘ ökdfn oäwiAFGBNÖOUERBGTÖAOIRBSYDÖFGOXVABN I can’t watch this be the end of them. I can’t.

Also, the song Alice is beautiful for all of this. Poetic cinema.

Frederika & stella :)

WHEN IS THAT SONG GOING TO BE ON SPOTIFY? I WANT TO LISTEN TO THIS FOREVER AND EVER AND EVER.

I love the slight change of the lyrics too.. „Cause we were a revolution“ from „I can be your revolution.“

Wille is looking at August like he has a plan. I SMELL AN ABDICATION :)))

And they sing Simon’s Song? This is toooo much!!!!! I love it!!!! But also why did no one tell Simon about that?

The way they fade that song over the next few scenes… Have I already mentioned that I am crying my eyes out?

So, the queen had a serious health concern. And now she is just fine? She has sought out therapy for like one day and apologizes to her son? Like, how does that work so quickly?

But also, I love it. Wille deserves parents who are there for him.

Wille, what are you thinking? What are you going to doooooo???? Abdication is coming, I can feel it…!!!

Why are they having a conversation about how it was in vain, or not? This is not going in the right direction.

„I never gave up on you. I gave up on the royal family.“ - Wille, your path is clear!!!!! You HAVE to take it!!!

Goodbye? Nooo? Why???? „I hope you have a nice summer.“ What the fuck? That is not the throwback I needed? Hello? Why are you walking away? Noooo, come back!!!! Simooooooon!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAHHHH!!

„They were friends who threw money at the problem instead of listening.“ THANK YOU!!

Just ride off into the sunset together, you two 💜

The Queen saying she’s proud of Wille is such an empty thing.

He is fumbling his collar. He is getting out of that car.

„One day you will be a fantastic king.“ - Say it! Say it, Wille!! SAY IT!!!!!!!!!!!!

„What happens if I don’t want to?“ YEEEEEEESSSSS, REVOLUTION BABY!!!!!!

This is the growth that Edvin talked about. Talking about his issues calmly, productively. Putting it simply. Being heard. Understood. He is fucking abdicating here and it is working. I LOVE IT!

„The thing with Simon“ - the disrespect!!!! I am done with this woman. He is the love of his life, ok?

„I don’t want this.“ - The smile when he says this.. 🥰 The first signs of the actual Wille coming out from all that pressure

The harmony theme starting to play as he leaves the car and the monarchy behind This is so freaking good!!!!! I freaking love this show

Haha, Simon waiting a minute before having Sara stop the car… Let him run :))

The music. The sunshine. The full trees. The fucking smiles on both of their faces. Fucking finally.

„For my own sake. … I want to be with you, Simon.“

The cheeky smile on Simon’s face just before he says, „what the hell do you think?“ nsyöljdnföojansAKENF KASJDNF LKJANSD

THEY ARE SMILING!!!! THEY ARE HUGGING!!! THEY ARE BOYFRIENDS!!!! THEY ARE ENDGAME!!!!!

I WILL NEVER EVER RECOVER FROM THIS HAPPINESS - THESE TWOOOOOOOOOO 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

THE MONTAGE…. 💜💜💜💜💜

THE WAY THE CUDDLE IN THE CAR - I AM FALLING IN LOVE WITH THEM ALL OVER AGAIN 💜💜💜💜💜

Also, I am in tears. Sobbing, shaking, laughing, crying. Truly, I have felt all the emotions this episode. I freaking love this show.

#young royals #young royals season 3 #young royals season 3 spoilers #young royals s3 spoilers #yr s3 spoilers #yr season 3 spoilers

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denimbex1986 · 3 months

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'Six BAFTA nominations, universal critical acclaim, and not a dry eye in the house: Andrew Haigh’s ghostly gay romance All of Us Strangers is already the must-watch queer film of the year.

Based loosely on 1987 novel Strangers by Taichi Yamada, All of Us Strangers follows Fleabag star Andrew Scott as a depressed and isolated queer writer in his forties, who is still reeling from the death of his parents three decades earlier.

In one week, his world changes: not only does he spark up a deep and beautiful romance with younger neighbour Harry (Paul Mescal), but he returns to his childhood home and reunites with his parents – despite them being dead.

Across weeks, he gets to have the vital, moving conversations with the apparitions of mum (Claire Foy) and dad (Jamie Bell) that he was too young to have when they passed, as his romance with Harry blossoms.

Though Yamada’s original novel features a straight protagonist, Andrew Haigh recently explained to PinkNews why he, as a gay man, couldn’t have told his version of the story without centring the queer experience.

“What I’ve always been interested in doing, and especially with this [film], is talking about queerness in relationship to family, and how complicated it can be in relationship to family,” he shared, “especially if you grew up in a generation of the ’80s and into the early ’90s, where it was very different than it is now – thank God.”

A turning point in All of Us Strangers comes when Adam comes out to his parents, who are stuck in the deeply homophobic Thatcher era, and their response is initially less than approving.

“Back then, it was a pretty rough time for a lot of kids growing up and growing into their sexuality. I felt like that adds so much to the story,” the Looking and Weekend creator shared.

“[Adam’s] not lonely because he’s gay. But being gay and coming from that time has made him feel separate in the world to some degree. It’s almost like the world has made him feel lonely.”

As part of the discourse surrounding the film, Paul Mescal has been forced to explain why it was OK for him, as a straight actor, to portray a gay character, arguing that it depends who is in the driving seat of the film.

Haigh has now explained that gay actor Andrew Scott was always going to take the lead role in the film over Paul Mescal, because the story needed to focus on a particular generation of gay men.

“It always had to be from Adam’s perspective,” the 50-year-old director explained.

“I’m the same age or a little bit older than Andrew Scott’s character. That was the generation that I wanted to talk about.”

The contrast between Adam and Harry is an exploration of how gay men of certain ages live their lives differently, even though they are all profoundly affected by the same trauma that can come with growing up queer.

“In many ways, [Harry] is slightly more liberated in the world, and hasn’t been burdened by some of the things that [Adam] has been burdened by. He releases some freedom in Andrew Scott’s character, which I think is really interesting,” Haigh shared.

“Once you’ve seen the film, you realise there’s also a sorrow and a sadness inherent in [Mescal’s] character too.”

Though it’s emotional, All of Us Strangers also highlights the beauty that comes with being able to live as your true self around those you love the most. In opening himself up to his parents, Adam is able to heal the wounds of their complicated relationship.

“I think it’s amazing how often we aren’t our true selves to people, even if people are still alive,” Haigh reflected.

“You still probably don’t have those difficult conversations that you need to have. I understand why we don’t have those difficult conversations; I think there’s a world inside [all] of us that is tormented and a little bit broken, that we’re trying to deal with almost every day of our lives.”

Haigh hopes the film will show that there is an alternative reality out there for those who don’t feel able to be themselves.

“I think the film for me was to say: ‘You know what, it’s OK. I get that you will feel like that, and there is a way out of that. You can find love and intimacy and be known and be understood.”

Rightfully so, All of Us Strangers is pulling in an impressive slate of award nominations – including a BAFTA nomination for Best British Film. It may have been shockingly snubbed by the Oscars, but Haigh is more assured to see the film resonating with so many queer people worldwide.

“It’s always quite surprising to me when something with queer content actually manages to break through and get talked about,” he admitted.

“Now I’m alright with it not being some big mainstream billion dollar because clearly, that’s never going to happen, and there will still be lots of people out there that won’t go and see this film because of the content, or what they think is the content.

“That’s a shame, because I feel like this is a film for everybody,” he added.

“But it’s amazing that it has been taken under the wing by a lot of people and I love that.”'

#Andrew Haigh #Weekend #All of Us Strangers #Paul Mescal #Andrew Scott #Oscars #Strangers #Taichi Yamada #Fleabag #Claire Foy #Jamie Bell #BAFTAs

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