#my sister wants to watch a lot of movies if that wasn’t clear

[victory-cookies]

tomorrow is gonna be interesting bc it’s my last day off before the insanity that will be working on the 23rd and 24th, and then having family gatherings on the 25th and 26th, and then working the 27th-31st. so I basically have to do everything tomorrow

[gurugirl]

Truth or Dare | slumber party!h

Summary: Y/n's coworker, Harry, has never been to a slumber party so she decides to remedy that and give him a sleepover he'll never forget.

A/N: Based off this request. Thanks anon! I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 6,752

Warning: smut

. . .

By her third glass of chardonnay, her stomach was feeling the acid from the wine but she was having such a good time talking to Harry from the operations department that she didn’t care. She’d have another before calling it a night. Just one more glass so she could sit with him a little longer and listen to him talk and watch as he ran his finger along the edge of his pint glass.

He was probably looking at her like he was because he was also three pints of lager in and he was kind so he was holding eye contact to be polite. Certainly, it wasn’t because he found her attractive (though she’d have welcomed that).

The company’s management meeting was long over and everyone else had gone home but Harry and Y/n stayed for another round. They rarely ever got to talk at the office. She’d always wanted to pick his brain about why he decided to move to the US and how, of all companies, he chose to work at Dunn Services.

Y/n laughed on cue as he mentioned something from his childhood with his sister having her friends over to stay the night. He grinned, a healthy row of teeth aimed at her before he looked down and laughed at himself, “In truth? I never did have a sleepover or anything like that.”

“Really? Surely you had friends…”

Harry nodded, “Oh yeah I had a lot of friends. But I never stayed over at anyone’s and they never came over to mine either. Just… I don’t know. Never happened.”

Placing her nearly empty glass down she turned and waved with a smile as the waitress walked by, “Can we get another round, please?”

“How are you getting home?” Harry asked when she faced him, crossing her leg over her knee toward him.

“Taxi. You?”

“Might walk. I’m not far from here.”

Nodding she placed her elbows on the table, “So, I think that you’ve missed out on an integral right of passage, having never had a slumber party. You should definitely remedy that at some point. I highly recommend a fun sleepover. In fact, if you need pointers on what to do during a sleepover, I’m your gal.”

“Oh yeah? What’s your go-to during a slumber party?” Harry teased before taking another sip of his beer.

“Well, I think there are like two main components. The first is entertainment and I’m always keen on a good movie, or a dumb one, either way… a movie for sure if I’m picking. Some people like to play board games or whatever, but I like to stuff myself into a pile of blankets and pillows and just lie, or drape,” she spoke using her arms to demonstrate herself draping into pillows. “Occasionally, if the mood is right, I’ll enjoy a little truth or dare.”

“Got it. A movie and maybe if the mood is right, truth or dare. And what’s the second component.”

Y/n crossed her fingers together and raised her brows as if she were about to say something very important, “Snacks. Beverages. Good ones. Usually just small bites but here’s my list…” She cleared her throat, “Buttered popcorn, and possibly potato chips. Definitely something chocolatey, and maybe something like a cookie or a snack cake. If not potato chips then tortilla chips and if it’s tortilla chips, salsa should also definitely be on the menu.”

Harry held back the laugh in his throat as he nodded, “Wow. Okay. What about like a burger or Chinese food? Would that be allowed?”

Y/n shrugged, “It’s your party. You can do what you want. I’m just telling you what I’d do and what would be a hit with your sleepover buddy.”

Harry breathed out a laugh. Y/n could tell he was getting bashful. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was. She watched him for a few seconds before the waitress returned with their drinks.

A quick gulp of wine and she nudged at his shin with her shoe, “You wanna have a slumber party with me?”

Harry blinked and tilted his head, “What? You mean… Seriously?”

She shrugged, “Why not? Then next time someone asks if you’ve ever had a proper slumber party you can say that you have.”

He laughed loudly, his husky voice was like music to her ears. Pointing at her with his finger he grinned, “Now how I can argue with that? I mean,” he shook his head, a glint in his eye, “Every time someone asks me if I’ve been to a slumber party and I tell them I haven’t, it’s such a disappointment! The look on their faces when they realize my whole childhood was a sham…”

They both laughed, leaning in toward one another, tittering toward the edges of their stools.

Harry tilted his head, “Actually I think it sounds fun. You just name the day and I’ll be there.”

Y/n smiled at him. She knew it was crazy. Having a grown man at her place for a slumber party. Typically adults didn’t have those kinds of sleepovers – it was usually with the intent of something far more salacious. But she’d show him a good time, she thought, raising her glass toward his, “Deal.”

.                 .                 .

Y/n had her sofa bed pulled out and piled high with extra blankets and pillows. She had all her favorite snacks plus she ordered cheeseburgers and fries for the guest of the night. It was silly. Truly she hadn’t had a real slumber party in ages, but she couldn’t help but feel a little bit of excitement that she’d be hanging out with Harry all night. It was possible that her small crush on him was making her feel all giddy but she’d push down that feeling until he gave her any extenuating signals.

Because the truth was that they were both single, young adults and this was such an unlikely scenario. No one would look at this and say Oh how cute of these two grown adults hanging out in bed together for a sleepover. So innocent! No, she knew better. While maybe nothing would actually happen it certainly wouldn’t look innocent.

And of course, she did pick out the perfect pijama set. Something a little more flattering on her body but not too hey I really need to get laid tonight. It was a happy compromise. Cotton shorts and a button-up, matching short-sleeved top. This was just supposed to be a slumber party after all.

Right?

Besides, the little paper invitation she gave him on Monday morning told him to arrive in his sleepwear so she had to look the part. And not to toot her own horn but she made a very cute invitation just for him tucked into a pink envelope with a separate little response card that had space at the bottom for him to mark yes or no if he could come. It was a yes. Obviously.

When Harry finally arrived he was wearing a pair of grey sweats and a white t-shirt. And for some fucking bizarre reason he looked so much hotter than he did when he wore his well-fitted suits at work.

Because goddamn did his shirt somehow just hug his torso in all the right spots and it allowed her to take a good look at all tattoos on his arms that were normally hidden under brushed wool jackets or long-sleeved button-up shirts. She knew he had tattoos. She’d seen him roll up his sleeves a couple of times but she never wanted to be rude and stare for long.

And then the sweatpants, while loose in the legs, fit his waist and hips and…

“You okay?” Harry was still standing in the doorway with his backpack draped over his arm waiting to be invited in.

“Yeah, sorry. Not used to seeing you dressed down like this. Almost unrecognizable.”

Harry let out a soft laugh, his eyes crinkling as Y/n stepped aside to let him in, “Would you like to see my ID? Swear I’m the Harry Styles, the guy you invited over for chips, popcorn, and truth or dare. I’ve even got your invite somewhere in my bag…”

She breathed a laugh through her nose and watched him enter into her space, “Movies too. Oh, and I also ordered cheeseburgers. Remembered that you mentioned that.”

He seemed quite pleased with the burgers as she handed him the bag. She got those small ones, five to an order, “Thanks. Fries too, huh?” He reached into the bag and pulled out three crinkle-cut french fries then stuffed them into his mouth.

“So should we settle in and pick out a movie?” She gestured toward her couch.

Harry had seen the pull-out couch with heaps of pillows and blankets when he walked in. He knew that that would be where they’d be spending most of the evening. It was the glaring thing about the whole slumber party slash sleepover. That they’d be probably sleeping next to one another. As two young, healthy, attractive adults.

“Sure,” he nodded and waited for her to pick which side she was going to take before climbing in next to her, the thin mattress and metal frame giving way gently under his weight before he leaned back against a mountain of pillows, bag of burgers safe in his hands.

Y/n had a few video streaming services at the ready and they settled on a cheesy comedy from the late 90s before Y/n reached over to her coffee table and then lined up all the snacks between them.

They chatted a little, having both seen the movie already. Topics were anything from what their plans were for the rest of the weekend to what they’d eaten for lunch at work. And it was only a little awkward when they both reached into the bowl of M&M’s at the same time, fingers brushing together.

Harry moved his hand away, “Sorry. You go…”

Y/n grinned at him, scooping a handful of candy into her palm, and then sat up, adjusting her seating as she crossed her legs together, “Wanna do truth or dare? Pretend like we’re 15 again having a sleepover. Really get into the whole slumber party vibe, ya know?”

Harry dug out a few M&M’s and let out a chesty laugh, “If I’m 15 again we’re in big trouble.”

Y/n snorted a laugh, “Why? What do you mean?”

He shook his head, a wide grin on his face with deep set dimples carved into each cheek as he turned his head to look at her, “If this were happening when I was 15 I’d already be in the bathroom hyperventilating and probably trying to will away a boner after our hands touched in the M&M’s bowl.”

Y/n guffawed and threw her head back, nearly choking on her bite of chocolatey candies as Harry laughed with her. Honestly, it was the best icebreaker she could have asked for. Things had been kind of clunky between them up until that moment as they were still trying to navigate how to act around one another. And she knew he was teasing but the good belly laugh that she got from Harry’s story was exactly what they needed.

“Okay fine. We’ll just keep going about it as adults then. No fifteen-year-olds here tonight,” Y/n chuckled as she shoveled a few kernels of popcorn into her mouth.

Y/n kept her eyes on him as she chewed her mouthful, “So truth or dare?”

Harry cocked his head at her, “So the mood is right then? For truth or dare?”

Y/n’s brows furrowed, “The mood?”

“Yeah. You said it over drinks. Remember when you were telling me what the most important components are to a sleepover and you said you liked truth or dare if the mood was right.”

Nodding slowly, she thought back to what she’d said, “Yeah. I guess I did say that. And I mean… I think the mood’s right for a little truth or dare. Movie’s almost over and you just pretty much kicked us off with that truth.” A breathy laugh was pushed from her mouth.

She could tell Harry was mulling on another question as he bit the inside of his cheek, head tilting in agreement, “So that means it’s your turn. Truth or dare?”

Biting her lip as she pondered, she pressed her back into the soft pillows behind her, “Truth.”

Harry shifted to his side, long legs stretching the length of the mattress as he propped his head up in his hand, a pillow under his arm, “Have you ever kissed a co-worker before?”

Scoffing Y/n moved to her side, mimicking Harry’s position on her side, “No,” she grinned. It was true. She’d never once done anything with any of her coworkers. Having Harry over at her house was the closest she’d ever gotten to doing anything like that. “Now you. Truth or dare?”

His green eyes slid over her features, “Truth.”

She laughed to herself, trying to think of something funny, “How many stuffed animals do you own?”

Licking his lips he nodded, “Think maybe two? Gifts from my niece… Truth or dare?”

“Mmm… dare,” she giggled.

Harry lifted a brow, “Ahhh… feeling bold yeah? Okay… hmm…” He pursed his lips to the side as he considered the dare. “Read to me the last text you sent to anyone. And you have to show me to prove it was the last one. And it can’t be any texts you and me, cause that’s not fair.”

Y/n blinked. She wasn’t exactly sure what her last text was besides Harry. But she was slightly worried because if it was what she was thinking… lifting up her message app she scrolled down to the text thread below Harry’s and it was a text with her sister. Which was what she had been worried about. She gulped, hoping that the things she said about her “coworker” who was coming to stay with her weren’t the last things she and her sister texted about.

Puffing out a breath she covered up all the previous texts to show Harry the last text from her sister – God knows you need it. Sending you good vibes, sis ;)

Harry squinted as he looked at the message and pointed, “That’s to you. The dare was to show me the last text you sent to someone. Let’s see it…”

Feeling her neck heat up she angled the phone away from him and read what she’d sent her sister. And there was no mention of Harry but if he were even halfway decent at picking up clues he might be able to figure out what was being discussed prior.

She shook her head and looked up at him. She couldn’t believe she was about to show him what was on her screen. But a dare was a dare. What was the worst that could happen?

lol I doubt anything will happen but I wouldn’t turn him down. Got condoms just in case 😜 send all your good vibes my way

Harry’s brows squished together as he looked at the text and back to Y/n and then down again at the words on her screen. She saw his throat bob and she knew the look on his face. He fucking knew what that was. He had to know.

She had to look away. She pulled the phone down and killed the screen. The awkwardness between them thick and uncomfortable as she peeked back at him. The edge of his mouth was pulled upward in a smirk, “That’s to your sister?”

Nodding she blew out an exasperated breath, “Your turn. Truth or dare?”

Harry grinned as he positioned his knee closer to Y/n, his eyes still on hers, “Dare.”

Swallowing her embarrassment down the best she could she decided to ask him the same, “Now show me the last text you sent anyone besides me.”

Harry’s smartass grin told her all she needed to know. That his last text probably wasn’t nearly as risqué as hers.

And it wasn’t. Not even close.

You can have two pounds for free. I’ve got so many growing I can’t keep up. As long as you come to pick them up on Monday they’re yours.

“I have a bunch of zucchini growing in my garden,” Harry pulled the phone away and laid it down next to his hip. “Got a neighbor who wants some.”

Of course, his last text to anyone was about zucchini. Jesus, she was so far out of her depth.

He was still wearing that shit-eating grin as he said, “Truth or dare, Y/n?”

And the way he said her name, all slow and sexy-like had her insides heating up. Well, maybe she made up the sexy part but he was definitely teasing her. She could just feel it.

“Truth.”

She was sure she’d regret that. Truth or dare. It didn’t matter. She was still reeling from showing him her texts.

“Was that text about me?” Shit-eating grin in place as he asked. Fucker.

Y/n’s eyes grew wide dropping her mouth open in surprise. Of course, he was going to ask that. Of course!

“Oh come on, Harry…” she pleaded.

He lifted his brows and awarded her a larger grin with those cute indents scoring into his cheeks, “Them’s the rules, baby. You chose truth and now you have to be honest.”

Clearing her throat she sat up to her bottom and leaned forward so she didn’t have to look at him as she put her head in her hands and laughed in disbelief, “Jesus. Seriously?”

“Yep. Spill. Let’s hear it.”

“Okay. Fine. Yes. It was about you.”

Keeping her eyes on her lap she waited for a smug remark. Some kind of teasing reply but it was quiet. Slowly she turned to look back at him and he was still lying on his side, head in his palm as he watched her, his eyes fixed to hers.

She shrugged, “Your turn. Truth or dare?”

Harry flattened his lips and squinted at her before cocking his head, “Hold on… Really? That was about me?”

Sighing she rolled her eyes, “Yes. Sorry. I was… it was just funny… it was me joking around with my sister is all.”

He blinked and looked down at the space between them as he nodded, “Okay. I see. So you didn’t actually mean it?”

“Well… I guess… We were joking. Obviously, nothing has to happen. I would never expect that. I…” she breathed out exasperated.

“Obviously nothing has to happen. Did you want it to happen?” His pupils were pinned to hers again.

Opening her mouth she stopped herself for a moment. She knew her answer was yes but she didn’t want to come off like a creep. She hadn’t expected it and assumed it wouldn’t. But the truth remained; she hoped it would happen.

Deflating her posture she laid back to her side to face Harry, tucking a pillow into her chest, “The truth is that I think you’re attractive and I haven’t been with anyone in kind of a long time and… she knows that, my sister. So we were just… it was lighthearted but yeah I mean… without any expectations, cause I would never… I hope you know that. But I did think it would be nice.”

“Nice. Yeah. I agree. It would be nice. And just so you know,” he swung his head to look over his shoulder before looking back at her, “I brought condoms as well. You know… just in case.”

She was a bit stunned at that. Was he…

“Dare me to kiss you,” he grinned, irises dropping to her lips for a second before looking back into her eyes.

She laughed, “That’s not how the game works. The rules are you can’t–”

“Fuck the rules. Dare me to kiss you.”

Shaking her head with a wide smile stretched across her face she felt like her skin was pricking as her heartbeat picked up. She couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

Looking back into his eyes she inhaled deeply, “Fine. I dare you to kiss me.”

Harry’s smirk was unreal. The way he dragged his gaze over her face and down to her mouth was almost lewd, “Didn’t need to play truth or dare to get me to kiss you, Y/n,” he scooted in, grabbing the pillow she had tucked into her chest and tossing it away before he drew a hand up to her face, “You just needed to ask.”

She held her breath as he closed in slowly until it was as if all the tension in the room had popped and fizzled when his lips met hers.

He was so soft and gentle. Lips winding easily, carefully at first. And then she parted her lips more, kissing him back and letting her mouth press into his bottom lip before their tongues were meshed.

She moved her knee out to stabilize herself and knocked over the bowl of popcorn between them. Laughing into his mouth she gasped as she parted from him but he only reached for her again, placing his palm at the back of her head to pull her mouth back against his with a grunt from his chest as he pushed the bowl away and drove his arm underneath her side to keep her from getting too far.

Harry was softly moaning as his tongue worked its way into her mouth gently. It was clear he’d wanted to kiss her. That he liked it. And that notion made her head spin combined with the feel of his thumb traveling over her jaw. There was not going to be any stopping the momentum that had begun.

Well, except for when the bowl of M&M’s poured out against her leg. She had to push at him. As much as she would have loved to have kept making out, she would not have been able to enjoy melted chocolate on her legs or the bedsheets tucked around the mattress (think of the scrubbing she’d need to do!).

“Sorry,” she panted and looked down at the smashed pieces of popcorn and the chocolate candies strewn between them, “I’ve gotta pick this up. Our body heat will melt all these and it’s gonna be a big mess.”

Harry grinned, “Why don’t we just move this party to your bed for a little bit? Clean up later? The M&M’s won’t melt if we’re not laying on them.”

She laughed, already feeling overwhelmed and overheated from the kiss and now he was suggesting taking it to her bed? This was really happening, wasn’t it? She nodded and they both moved off the sofa sleeper to their feet, Harry following behind Y/n as she led him to her bedroom.

She already had her bedside lamp on. Bed made perfectly, everything tucked in and neat.

She turned to look at him and he stepped against her, palm splaying at her low back, “I dare you to get onto your bed and take your clothes off.”

A small laugh burst from her chest, “Oh, so now we’re just doing dares?”

He nodded, “Making up our own rules for this game. S’more fun this way.”

Letting go of her he watched as she stepped backward toward her bed and began to unbutton her nightshirt until it was shed from her body before she pushed her shorts down her legs. She was left in a pretty white bralette (something soft for bedtime) that stretched around her breasts and a pair of thin cotton panties that matched. She kneed up onto her bed and let her feet dangle off the edge and pointed, “Now I dare you to take off your clothes.”

He peeled his white t-shirt off, his hair mussing in the process. She watched with her lips parted at the gorgeous man stripping before her. Not only was he built exactly like what she dreamed of (tattoos, beefy, muscular, a touch soft, very masculine) but the boner tenting his sweats was hard not to home in on.

Harry stuck his fingers into the waistband and looked up at her, “M’not wearing any underwear, so be warned…”

She swallowed as the material lowered, belly button, happy trail, a bit of dark hair and then he pulled the stretchy waistband away from his body so his cock could push free and she was already clenching at just the sight as he removed his sweatpants, cock full and heavy between his strong thighs.

Jesus Christ.

Harry stepped forward, nudging himself between her knees and she leaned back to look up at him, “I dare you to take off the rest of this. Since I’m completely naked feels only fair.”

She bit her lip and looked down at his girthy dick. He was clearly not shy of his body, standing there like that, cock right in front of her. But why should he be shy when he looked like that?

Scooting back further into the bed she got up to her knees and pulled the bralette off first, feeling the heat of his gaze on her tits as she then slid her panties down her thighs. She wasn’t nearly as confident as Harry was as she quickly pulled at her top blanket and covered herself with a small laugh.

Harry stepped forward, one knee on the mattress before climbing in next to her, nosing at her cheek softly before his lips were connected to hers again. And she melted into him just like before. His mouth was magic or something because before she realized it, he’d pulled the blankets off her body and he had a big palm sliding up her thigh and over her hip, “Don’t cover up. So pretty. Knew you would be.”

She pushed her fingers into his thick wavey hair and felt her side hit the mattress as Harry pulled at her again, mouth still smeared against hers. He grabbed at her thigh, hitching it over his hip as he tucked in closer and it was warm and she could feel it. Feel him against her hip.

His giant hand smoothed against her bottom and up her spine until he was wrapping his long fingers around the back of her neck. Y/n nudged in closer, driving her hips forward until she was practically straddling him. So Harry took that as his cue to move to his back, taking her hips in his hands so she’d follow with him.

It had caught her off guard, the sudden change in position but her lips never stopped moving with his. Their kisses were wet and she could smell their saliva, and a touch of onion even from the burgers he’d eaten.

He guided her hips down, his thick cock hot under her thigh until she felt her pussy drag against warm skin at the base of his dick. A small gasp escaped her mouth as he pulled her up, letting her pussy glide up his length, “So wet already, Y/n…”

She was. It was embarrassing. Every inch of his shaft her pussy dragged against, coated him, wetted his skin. He kept pushing and pulling at her hips, using her slippery pussy like a soft wet toy he could run up and down his length.

Then she felt his fingers move around to her backside, digits sliding against her pussy as he licked into her mouth.

Gently she rolled against him and when she moved herself further down he pushed a fingertip inside, “Go on. Fuck yourself on my finger a little bit,” he whispered against her mouth.

He was filthy. She had no idea. He’d always been so sweet at work. So polite and respectful. But here he was reaching around her ass to get a finger inside of her cunt as she rubbed her pussy over his cock.

She panted into his mouth as she slid down around his finger, her clit smushed into his dick, slippery as she rolled up and down. But then he began to assist as he added another finger and began to fuck into her pussy, letting his digits curve into her the best he could from his angle. Slushy wet, she stopped moving her hips and parted from the kiss as she looked down at him. She could tell she was gushing all over his palm and probably his dick as she moaned.

“S’that feel good. You’re gettin’ my fingers all wet like it feels good.”

Nodding she gasped, “Yeah. Feels so good…”

Harry rutted up against her, his cock still pressed into her clit, and she panted, eyes still searing into his. She didn’t want to look away. She almost couldn’t believe he was in her bed fingering her like that.

“Your turn to dare me to do something. What do you want, Y/n?”

She moaned and closed her eyes. She was certain of what she wanted as she listened to the way his fingers gushed with each plunge into her.

“Fuck… dare you to… put on a condom.”

She popped her eyes open to peer down at him as he slid his fingers out of her, wiping her arousal on her ass, “They right here?” He moved his hand toward her bedside table, a knuckle tapping at the wood.

Climbing off of him she opened the drawer, “Yeah, a whole box. Hold on…”

Reaching over to pull out the condoms she felt Harry’s hands on her hips as he moved to sit up, then his lips were on her back, dotting warm kisses to her shoulder blades as she finally plucked a condom from the fresh box.

She watched him put the condom on and as expected, it didn’t cover his entire length. He was kind of a big guy. Well, maybe there was no kind of about it. Before today she had no idea he was packing like that. Though he always did come off as very confident and sure of himself.

She bit her lip as she watched him toss the wrapper away and then he kneed up to her, arm sliding to her back and carefully lowering her to the bed before spreading her legs apart as he fit himself there, sturdy thighs pushing against her soft ones.

“Gonna tell your sister her good vibes worked?” He smirked down at her, hands scouring her hips and tummy and then kneading softly at her tits.

Y/n laughed and reached a hand down to his knee before he pulled at her, making her thighs drape over his as he inched in closer.

“Hmm?” He was awfully teasing, she thought, grinning at her waiting for an answer.

“Probably,” she spit out in a laugh.  

Harry gripped at her thighs, lifting her a bit more to fit her bum over his bent knees and she wanted to scream in embarrassment when she realized he was inspecting her sodden vulva. She’d gotten herself all tidied up for him, should anything like this happen, so at least she had that going for her.

He smoothed his thumb through her pussylips, spreading them apart, and softly blew out a breath, “That is very pretty. Think we get him in there?”

She rolled her eyes as she watched him wrap his palm around his base and lay his fat cock over her mons, the condomed-tip reaching to her belly button, maybe further past, “Well, it’s made for it, so I’m pretty sure–”

“What… your pussy’s made to fit around my cock?” A cocky dimpled smirk gave way to a laugh.

“You know what I meant. It’s meant to… like…” she breathed out a laugh.

“Oh, I know… just fucking with you, Y/n.”

He gazed at her as he reared back, painting his cockhead through her labia, up and down, a soft bump into her clit before he repeated, spreading her soft lips apart as he watched the way his crown smeared her arousal between her creases.

When she moaned and wiggled her hips he pointed himself right at her little muscle, nudging softly forward, opening it up for himself. And she felt that first push, the way his tip fit into her, spreading apart and then stretching to accommodate his circumference.

“Oh god…” she breathed as he slipped in halfway and then pulled back.

“Almost there,” he panted as he kept his eyes on where they were connected, pushing and pulling back until she was swallowing him whole, his cock enveloped in her soft, warm pussy.

When he’d buried in whole, he moaned and watched her face twist up in ecstasy. Her lips were dropped open and her neck stretched long as she grasped onto the forearm of the hand he had gripping her waist.

Slowly he began to thrust, viscous liquid seeping from her pussy and sticking to his shaft. It was filthy. She was so wet that every time he bottomed out there was a splat and a plap sounding between them.

She let out a deep moan and her lips curled up, humid breath escaping her mouth as she felt him driving into her guts. He was taking it easy. Languidly fucking into her with wet claps every time he plunged in.

When her cunt was taking him easier and she was dripping down to her ass he moved in a little harder, faster. Angling himself over her, a palm down on the mattress so he could work into her with more gusto.

“Ah! Harry…” she squeaked at the stronger thrusts and clung onto his lats. He was panting, lips parted and pink, a curl falling over his forehead as he plowed into her splooshing pussy.

“Fuck you’re wet. Pussy is gushing, Y/n…”

Her brows pushed together as she gasped, her body knocked upward every time his hips met hers making her tits bounce. Harry didn’t know where to keep his focus. He loved watching his cock disappear into her hole but he kind of liked being right over her so he could see her face crinkle up every time he bottomed out and then her pretty breasts sway up and down. Or maybe he’d like to fuck her from behind, watch her ass jiggle as he pounded into her.

“Mmm… fuck that’s big!”

Harry groaned, “Yeah? Sure know how to sweet talk a man don’t you, pretty? S’hurt?”

She watched his face, a lusty grin, droopy eyelids as he continued muscling his way in deep.

She hissed when he bucked in, as if he was showing off just how deep he could push in and she coughed out, “Mmm… a little!”

Harry was going to lose his mind with her if she kept squeaking out moans and splatting around his cock like she was but he would be a gentleman and pull back a touch. Slowing down a little he sat up and moved his hand between them, smushing his thumb into her clit, which was so sticky wet even that swished and slid under the pad of his digit.

“Yessss…” she breathed out before murmuring on about how good it felt. “Oh fuck, that’s it. Oh god… please don’t stop… Harry, fuck, yes…”

The clit. The magical little nob that worked wonders as long as the man knew where to find it. Clearly, Harry knew right where it was. Knew how to circle over it, pressing against it just right. Knew how to fuck into her as well. Sliding his length through her vaginal walls, spreading her open, and grazing against her gummy little spot on the inside that had her buzzing and liquifying for him.

He watched her whine and squirm under him, loving how she was so into it. God that was an ego boost, “Like that, Y/n? Gonna come for me? Yeah?”

Her ears were already ringing when she lost herself, gripping around him and crying out as her orgasm washed through her tummy. Harry’s cock made her feel so full, so incredibly stuffed to the brim that it weighed her down and she could hardly move as he bulldozed into her, the pad of his thick thumb smushing fast circles over her throbbing nub.

Fucking her through it he gasped at how she spasmed and milked around him, her pussy trying to siphon his come right through his condom. But Harry wouldn’t come just yet. He had something to prove. Wanted to make a show of his prowess and give her something to tell her sister about.

So when she was finally calmed and her pussy wasn’t clamping around him like a vice grip he slid his hand under her head and kissed her gently, speaking low and soft against her lips, “Gonna have you flip over, okay? Just need a little more yeah?”

When he parted from the kiss she blinked up at him, fluttering lashes and out of breath, “You didn’t come?”

He shook his head, pulling himself out, gently before he placed his hands on her hips, “Not yet. I will soon, though. M’right on the edge. Won’t take me long.”

She rolled to her side as he lifted her hips and helped her get to her tummy. She felt his hands on her ass, squeezing and rubbing each meaty globe in his big palms. Then he was straddling her thighs as he spread her gently and she felt him push his thick tip back into her pussy, sharp and hot. It was tighter, felt a lot fuller like that as he began driving in deep and then pulling out to his tip, before plowing back into the hilt.

His moans grew louder and, even he could admit, sounded quite whiny, pathetic. He was shaking as he watched his dick spread her in half, her soft ass jiggling as he smacked into her, skin patting, his cock leaking precum steadily into his condom.

He hissed when it felt too good. His balls squeezing and his fat dick throbbing inside of her. He thrusted forward, landing a palm down next to her shoulder, his chest pressed into her back as he rutted himself in, tucking his cock through her insides and puffed out a hot groan into her ear, “Fuck you feel good. Gonna make me come, baby…”

She moaned and nodded, “Come for me, Harry…”

He might have held out for another thirty seconds, possibly a minute longer but her breathy words, all sultry and pleading had him pumping into his condom in an instant. He gargled on a moan and squeezed his eyes closed as he buried in and stilled his hips, ass flexing so he could push in further if it were possible.

Y/n felt him crushing her back as he collapsed over her, panted breaths in her ear, cock still throbbing in the aftermath of his orgasm.

She didn’t mind it. Liked his weight on her like that. Enjoyed the way he seemed just as fucked out as she was. She could even feel his heart pounding in his chest against her back.

With a moan, she turned her head and nuzzled her face into her blanket with her eyes closed. She’d fall asleep that way if he couldn’t get up. It was quite warm and comforting. Like a weighted blanket draped over her body. And maybe she did doze off for a bit because when she opened her eyes she felt him moving off of her before he crashed down next to her, the springs in her mattress bouncing under him.

Pushing herself to lie on her side she ran a hand over his chest and he turned to look at her, a dopey smile on his flushed face, “So this is what happens at slumber parties, huh? I’ve really missed out all these years.”

She giggled and nodded into her pillow, “Yep. They’re just like big orgies really. Normally there are more than just two people. It’s how I lost my virginity.”

Harry sputtered a laugh, “Really?”

Y/n couldn’t help but to cackle loudly and roll to her back, the biggest grin on her face, “No, silly. I was teasing.”

He slid a hand over her tummy, “So this isn’t what happens at slumber parties, then?” She could hear the cheeky smile in his voice.

She turned her head to look at him, “Well, not usually. But I think we made our own rules for this one today.”

“Yeah? Well, I have to give it to you. You throw a hell of a party. I’m certain this is gonna go down as the best sleepover in history.”

. . .

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[jasmines-library]

Hiii!! Firstly, I love your writing and I hope you’re having a great day!! I was hoping to request a Winchester sibling fic where the reader is really comforted by physical touch but is really observant and receptive to the fact their brothers are emotionally constipated and touch starved so the reader has never really asked for it but then one day either just a bad day or bad hunt and the reader just asks the boys to hold them or one of them to sit in the back of the Impala with them? Thank you so so much and I hope you have a lovely day!! 🫶

So close, yet too far.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Summary: You just really need a hug.

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Touch Starved, character death mentioned, swearing

p.s. Sorry for the long wait! I've got exams at the moment so they're taking up a lot of my time.

⛧ SPN MASTERLIST ⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Life as a hunter was never still. You were constantly moving. Constantly looking over your shoulder. Constantly chasing what could be your last day on earth. And you wouldn’t ever have said you regretted it. No. In fact, you wouldn’t have changed it for the world. Hunting creatures and saving the world? It was all You couldn’t have imagined a better life…

But sometimes you found yourself wanting life to just slow down for a minute. It was so hectic and you just needed a breath. A hug. With such a busy life, there was no time for just spending quality time with your brothers. Or anyone for that matter. It was an endless cycle: Wake up. Research. Hunt. Drive. Sleep. There was no time for sitting on the couch and watching cheesy movies together. Nor was there any time for curling up together like you used to do when you were smaller. You found yourself yearning for it. For a hug or simply just a gentle arm around your shoulder. It used to bring you so much comfort. But times were tough with all that had happened recently. The three of you were even more on edge than ever before. 

Your brothers had always told you that you could ask them for anything. That you could tell them whatever you wanted… but this wasn’t just something you could ask them for. You had seen how they often shunned away from touch. From relationships. Having seen so much pain and having lost so many people…they struggled to allow themselves to let their guard down enough to enjoy a tender moment. Even with you. So no matter how much you yearned for it you could never bring yourself to push the want from your mind and into words. 

So when the hunt went worse than you could have imagined you kept quiet. 

Dean’s hand was right there; peeking out from the hem of his flannel. His fingers were bloody and calloused, scarred and covered in small cuts and yet his touch was still tender. You felt your own fingers itch to reach out and lace them between his. You wanted for him or Sam to wrap you up in their arms and hold you close. To squeeze your hand. Or a shoulder. But you knew that they had much more pressing matters to deal with that overshadowed “needy little sister”. 

You trailed behind them, dragging your feet ever so slightly to kick up the dirt and leave trails between the orange leaves. You did not look up at your brothers because you knew you would see Dean's set jaw and Sam’s pinched eyebrows as they too mourned the hunt. 

A small boy had been caught by a shtriga. He had been no older than 5 or 6 with these big, blue eyes that got impossibly wider as the creature stalked toward him. And his scream…it pierced through the air like a beam of light: clear as day yet providing no clarity. No safety like light should bring. Instead it was cold and filled with a gripping terror. 

The three of you had been too slow. No matter how hard you dragged your stubborn limbs you couldn’t get to him fast enough. So now you trudged along in silence. 

The sight of Baby did not, in fact, provide you with the relief you thought it would. Instead the gleaming of the bonnet against the moonlight just made your stomach churn. You knew that you would all try to bury the memory in a box, deep in the back of your mind. But it was never that easy. They tried hard, but you would hear them late at night. Dean hardly slept as he tried to drink his troubles away and Sam barely left his room. And then there was you who lay awake staring blankly at the ceiling as you wept softly, wrapping your arms around yourself to curl up in a ball. It didn’t bring the same comfort as theirs did, like it had done when you were small and naive when you crawled into their bed after a nightmare. When things weren’t so fucking complicated. 

Tears pricked in the corner of your eyes as you reached for the metal handle. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t sit in silence to be left with your own thoughts. You couldn’t be alone. Not right now. 

“Sammy…”  Your voice was quiet. Hushed. Barely a whisper pushed out on cracked lips that trembled. 

Sam paused, his hand halfway between where he had been picking at the hem of his jeans and the handle of the passenger door. He lifted his head, humming softly in acknowledgement. 

“Sit with me… Please.”

“Of course.” His face melted and he moved in one swift movement. 

He slid in the backseat, leaning against the door frame and stretching out across the seats. He pulled you in to lean against his side, wrapping his arms around you. You lay your head on his shoulder, snuggling into his side. And began to weep. 

“Kiddo?” Sam asked gently. “What’s up?” His hands traced small circles on your arm.

Dean reached over the back of the seat with a concerned look, though part of it could be easily mistaken for fear. “It’s not your fault, Sweetheart-” He started.

“Just…hold me. Please.” You clung onto Sam, your other hand reaching out to settle atop of Dean’s. Their touch was comforting, yet you couldn’t help the wavering as you wept. “I don’t want to be alone right now.” 

And so they did. Sam nestled you further into his side, tucking your head beneath his chin and Dean clambered out of his seat to join the two of you in the back. He settled down on your other side, sandwiching you between the two of you. And they held you. They ran their fingers through your hair, held your hand and spoke to you. They held you tight and the three of you stayed close together, with no intention of moving any time soon.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

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⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

[persevereforahappyending]

This isn't Your Fault (Family Meeting)

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: “But my mom is in town again and…” you bobbed your head back and forth, your eyes on the spaghetti you continued to twirl around your fork. “She wanted to meet you.”

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Sam had had a long day at work, she pulled a double and now she was back home making dinner. Luckily, the whole gang wasn’t at the apartment, and it was just you and Tara. Sam liked you and you were a lot easier to please than Chad and Mindy. You didn’t mind whatever they were having for dinner, whereas Chad and Mindy always had an opinion and tended to start arguing if they disagreed with each other.

Tonight, they were keeping it simple though, spaghetti and meatballs. She was almost done when she looked up, furrowing her brow as she heard you and Tara whispering to each other. She couldn’t make out what you were saying but it was clear you were trying to ask Tara to do something. Sam had come to learn there wasn’t a lot Tara wouldn’t do for you, she was curious what she was fighting you on.

“It’s ready!” Sam called out as she poured the spaghetti into the strainer and then into a bowl. She carried the pot of meatballs and sauce in one hand while carrying the bowl of spaghetti in the other. She sat them in the middle of the dining table before going back into the kitchen and grabbing the plate of garlic bread.

“You made garlic bread?” Tara asked. She didn’t hesitate to jump up from the couch, nearly pushing you off of her as she did so. You were left sitting on the couch, mouth hung open as you watched Tara run to the table.

Sam shook her head at her sisters’ antics. “We had some in the freezer,” she shrugged. She saw it was getting ready to expire and figured she better make it; besides, nothing went better with spaghetti and meatballs than garlic bread.

“Thank you, Sam,” you said as you joined them at the table, taking the spot next to Tara as usual.

“No problem,” Sam smiled at you. You ate at their apartment plenty of times by now, whether it be dinner or breakfast or even a late lunch on weekends, but you never failed to say thank you if Sam cooked or paid for takeout.

Everyone loaded their plates up with spaghetti and meatballs, everyone even grabbing a slice of garlic bread. Tara ended up grabbing two slices and was reaching for a third when Sam slapped her hand away. Sam didn’t care how much garlic bread Tara ate, within reason, but her sister could at least eat what was on her plate first.

The dinner was oddly silent, usually Tara was talking nonstop about her classes or a movie she saw. You usually joined in talking about your classes, some new soundtrack you heard, or whatever videogame you were playing. The two of you were silent though, you both just kept glancing at each other, and you kept nodding your head towards Sam, like you wanted Tara to ask her something, all of it made Sam furrow her brow even more.

“Ow!” Tara whisper yelled, making Sam raise an eyebrow.

“Everything okay?” Sam asked hesitantly.

“Your sister is a coward,” you said, not taking your eyes off of Tara.

Sam raised an eyebrow at you, now she was even more curious what you and Tara were talking about. You rolled your eyes as you looked away from Tara but smiled as your eyes landed on Sam. She had a feeling she was about to learn what you and Tara were talking about.

“So,” you said slowly, you began to twirl your fork, wrapping the spaghetti around it. “You can totally say no.” Sam sat up a little straighter, she never liked when a sentence started out that way, but you were asking her something so she knew it couldn’t be too bad. “But my mom is in town again and…” you bobbed your head back and forth, your eyes on the spaghetti you continued to twirl around your fork. “She wanted to meet you.” You flicked a glance up at Sam then right back down to your spaghetti.

Sam opened and closed her mouth a few times, her own fork hanging loosely at the edge of her plate now forgotten. Out of all the things she thought you and Tara were talking about, you asking her to meet your mom was not on the list. Sam had never met anyone’s parents before, not for any of her own partners and certainly not for anyone Tara was dating, you were the first-person Tara was serious enough about to actually introduce to her. On top of all that there was her past, she used to be an addict, she was the daughter of a serial killer, and she was the reason you were attacked all those months ago.

“You don’t have to,” your speaking broke her out of her spiraling thoughts. “I totally understand if you’re busy or don’t want to. Tara talks so well of you and my mom has been wanting to meet you since she learned you and I were officially introduced.”

“Okay,” Sam found herself saying. Tara’s head snapped up; her eyes wide as she stared at Sam. “I would love to meet her.”

“Really? Thank you!” you said.

“Really?” Tara said at the same time.

“I won’t lie,” Sam said, nodding to herself. “I’m nervous. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“It won’t be that bad,” you assured her. “My mom is the nicest person in the world. If she was willing to get to know Tara after she,” you nodded towards Tara, “fell out of a tree then meeting you will be a walk in the park.”

Sam couldn’t help but chuckle at that. It was true, she didn’t think she could make a worse first impression than her sister did. Being Billy Loomis’s daughter and being the reason for the Ghostface attacks still nagged at the back of her mind. She was surprised how okay your mom was with you dating Tara and allowing you to come over to their apartment so often. She couldn’t believe your mother would allow you anywhere near her after you nearly died because of Ghostface.

“When would you like to have dinner?” Sam asked, hoping her smile was hiding her brewing anxiety and nerves.

“Tomorrow night?” you suggested. “We can do it any time this week if that doesn’t work for you.”

“Tomorrow is perfect.”

“Cool, thank you, I’ll tell her.”

While Tara and Sam went back to eating their food you pulled out your phone to most likely text your mom. Once you were done you went back to eating as well. That question seemed to be the thing that was on both your and Tara’s mind all night because after it was finally asked the conversation began to flow like normal. Tara rambled about her class and all the knew film stuff she was learning as she continued to shove garlic bread in her mouth.

The next day Sam couldn’t think about anything else besides dinner with your mom. Tara was the one dating you and Sam would probably hardly ever, if ever, see your mom again. She didn’t know why she was freaking out about it so much. Tara loved you though, it didn’t matter what Sam thought, but she approved of you, and both you and Tara spoke so highly of your mother. Even Anika had nothing but good things to say about her. The only things Sam knew about her were that she was a nurse and she cared so much about her patients that she traveled all over the world, taking care of individuals but also helping out in hospitals that were understaffed.

Your mom was amazing, you were so kind and caring, and Sam was the daughter of a serial killer. She didn’t know why she wanted the approval of your mother, but she did. It was stupid, she knew if anyone needed to worry about your mom liking them it was Tara and she already had that covered. Sam couldn’t help but think that when your mom met her, she’d see just exactly how screwed up she was, how messy her life was, and she’d forbid you from coming to their apartment and seeing Tara, that she’d ruin her sister’s relationship all because she wasn’t good enough.

Sam went straight home after work. She didn’t waste time as she threw her dirty work clothes in the hamper and jumped in the shower. She needed to make a good impression on your mother and that meant not smelling like the fast food from work. When she was satisfied with her cleanliness she jumped out of the shower and got dressed, choosing some simple jeans and a t-shirt. It was just dinner at your house and Sam didn’t want it to be obvious she was trying to make a good impression. She also needed to look like a grown-up because she was meeting your mother, she needed to come off like someone who was an adult and capable of looking after her sister, even if Tara was twenty years old now.

“Ready?” Tara asked as she came out of her room.

“As I’ll ever be,” Sam mumbled.

“Nervous?” Sam didn’t answer, she just kept fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “Don’t be,” Tara rolled her eyes. “Her mom has been interested in meeting you since I first met her. She’s the nicest person in the world and has no judgements of you or your past.”

“Then why didn’t you want me to meet her?” Sam closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She knew it was a stupid question, but it was quite obvious the night before that Tara didn’t want to ask her.

“I want you to meet her. I was just scared to ask.”

“Why?”

Tara shrugged. “I know how you are; I was worried you’d freak out.”

Sam let out a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“Come on,” Tara gently slapped Sam on the shoulder.

Sam and Tara made their way to the subway, taking the stop closest to your neighborhood. They walked the rest of the way. Sam shoved her hands in her pocks as your house came into view. She hadn’t been to your house since the night of the attack, when she and Tara found you. She had to admit the house was very nice, she didn’t remember much from her visit the first time because she had different priorities, but she noticed you had a different front door.

It wasn’t even a second after Tara knocked that you were opening the door. “Glad you decided to use the front door this time,” you greeted, smiling at Tara.

“Shut up,” she mumbled, not waiting for you to invite them in before she was pushing past you.

Sam stood on your porch; her hands shoved in her pockets as she shook her head at her sister. “Thank you for coming,” you said, looking at Sam. You stepped aside and gestured for her to enter.

Once again when she stepped into your house she looked around, getting a good look at everything for the first time. Nothing was broken anymore; you did a good job replacing everything.

“Is that them?” a feminine voice called out from another room.

“Yeah!” you called back.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Bring them here.”

You let out a shaky breath as you turned to Sam. “Don’t let her intimidate you,” you said. “She already admires you for taking care of Tara.”

Sam gave a shy smile at that as she followed you into the kitchen. Tara had gone ahead and was already sitting at the kitchen island talking to your mother. Your mom was hunched over pulling a lasagna out of the oven.

“You must be Tara’s sister,” your mom said, smiling at Sam. She took the tray of lasagna and sat it in the middle of the dining room table.

“Hi,” Sam said, giving an awkward wave. “Yeah, I’m Sam,” she held out her hand for your mother.

Your mom slipped off her oven mitts and happily shook Sam’s hand, introducing herself as well. “I hope you like lasagna.”

“Yeah,” Sam looked around at the table already set with four plates and four things of silverware. “It smells delicious.”

“Thank you. Now, sit, sit,” she gestured to the table. Sam, you, and Tara all pulled out a chair around the table as your mom came back with glasses and a pitcher of water.

Everyone scooped out some lasagna and were a few minutes into eating without anyone directly talking to Sam. She couldn’t lie, she appreciated that she wasn’t being bombarded with questions yet and your mom didn’t seem to hate her upon arrival, so it was already going better than she imagined. Tara was busy filling the silence, rambling to your mother about everything new in her life that’s happened while your mom has been away. Sam couldn’t help but smile at seeing how comfortable Tara was around your mother.

“So, Sam,” your mother said, breaking Sam out of her thoughts. Sam’s entire body became tense as she looked up to see your moms’ eyes already on her. “Any advice on dealing with Tara?”

Sam couldn’t help but crack a smile at the way Tara’s mouth dropped open. “Traitor,” she heard her sister mumble.

Sam shook her head. “I was actually hoping you’d have some tips.”

Your mom shook her head. “I didn’t even know about their secret relationship,” she gestured between you and Tara with a fork. “Until this one,” she pointed at Tara. “Fell out of my tree.”

Sam silently laughed at the way her sister crossed her arms and began pouting. “You still learned about their relationship before me,” Sam raised her hands in surrender.

Your mom let out a hum. “Tara’s a good kid.” Tara stopped pouting, smiling widely at your mother. “Though she still sneaks in when she thinks I don’t notice.” Tara’s mouth once again fell open.

“I never caught them, but it seems Y/N has stopped sneaking into the apartment,” Sam glanced at you out of the side of her eye.

“Sneaking up the fire escape is too much work,” you said with a shrug as you went back to your lasagna.

“Speaking of my daughter,” your mom said, glancing at you out of the side of her eye. You looked up, mouth full of lasagna, looking at her like a confused puppy. Your mom just gave you a loving eye roll before looking back at Sam. “I wanted to thank you.”

Sam furrowed her brow. She had never had a parent thank her before, she definitely never expected it from your mother. She didn’t know why your mom would possibly thank her; she was the reason you got attacked. If anything, your mom should be yelling and screaming at her, possibly getting a restraining order to be extra safe. She definitely shouldn’t be thanking her though, Sam didn’t do anything, she only brought pain into your life.

“Thank me?” Sam asked. “For what?”

“Taking care of her,” your mom said. “She didn’t tell me anything about what happened until much later,” she shot you a disapproving look. You instantly dropped your eyes down to your plate. Sam remembered you saying you were scared to tell your mom. Sam could tell your mom wasn’t mad at you though, she never was, she was just scared for you. “So, thank you for being there.”

Sam opened her mouth, but no words came out, she was truly at a loss for words. “I mean, I’d argue I took care of her the most,” Tara said. Sam might have been at a loss for words but clearly her sister wasn’t. “I carried her stuff, I took notes for her, I helped her up the steps, I made sure she took her medicine, I helped make sure she got enough sleep, I…” Tara trailed off when she realized everyone was staring at her.

Sam was shaking her head, giving her an amused look, Tara really didn’t know when to shut up sometimes, your mom was looking at her with love, Sam knew your mom was grateful for all Tara did, she wouldn’t be surprised if your mom had already thanked Tara for all that. Then there was you, openly glaring at Tara. “I love you?” Tara smiled at you innocently, but you just rolled your eyes.

“Anyway,” your mom said. “Thank you.”

“It was nothing,” Sam said, shaking her head. “I’m glad I could help.”

“As you probably know, I’m out of town quite a bit.” Sam nodded, not quite sure where your mom was going to go with that. “I was wondering if it would be okay if you looked out for that one,” she nodded towards you. “Make sure she’s alright, let her stay with you occasionally?”

“Wait what?” You asked.

“Of course,” Sam said.

“Yay!” Tara squealed, happily clapping her hands. Sam gave her sister a side glance, she might make a rule about Tara sleeping on the couch just to spite her sister.

 “I don’t need a babysitter,” you said, trying to reason with your mom.

“You almost died last time,” your mother said.

You rolled your eyes, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “One time out of like a hundred.”

“Once was enough.”

“But-”

Sam smiled to herself as you and your mother continued to go back and forth. Sam was sure things wouldn’t change too much; you were over at their apartment like every weekend already. When you weren’t at the apartment odds were Tara was at your house, it wasn’t like you were ever alone for very long. If it gave your mom peace of mind then Sam didn’t mind checking up on you occasionally or allowing you to stay at the apartment, not that she was ever against it before.

Sam relaxed in her chair, continuing to eat the delicious lasagna your mom made. Listening to you argue with your mom was like when Sam would argue with Tara, though you conceded eventually, Tara usually never relented. The rest of the night Sam enjoyed casual conversation, getting to know your mom a bit more and answering any questions she asked. She was surprised but happy your mom never asked about her and Tara’s mother or about her father, she appreciated it. Sam was pleasantly surprised how well dinner went and when your mom mentioned getting together again next time she was in town, Sam didn’t hesitate too quickly agreeing.

Taglist: @lilbitdepressed27 @fanboy7794 @noooodlessstuff @tatumrileyslover @alexkolax @canvascoloredin @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @youralphawolf72

[highonmarvel]

heyy lov ur fics. saw you wanted some bucky recs so i got one. how about like bucky and reader have been dating for 2-3 months and he's always sweet to her and always making sure she was happy. he even promised to get rid of almost all of his weapons. but then he secretly didnt. he still had them, for "saftey purposes" he couldnt let anything happen to u. so he kept them in a secret room along with some pictures of u he took when he was observing(stalking) you before he entered into ur life -P1

that’s actually such a scary idea, i love it. okay, okay, you had a lot so apologises if it’s a bit different than you were expecting, but i tried, and i had fun! let me know if you like it! and my sweet sister @thehydraethereal, tell me what you think.

The Sun

Bucky Barnes: Bucky’s world revolves around you, The Sun, his sunshine, and he’ll do just about anything to make you happy, but everything to keep you safe.

CONTENT WARNING: This is a dark fic, please read content warnings here! 18+!

You’ve always been more of a glass half-full type of person, but with Bucky, you’ve really turned into a ray of sunshine—he just brings that out in you, treating you as precious as every breath he takes and as vital to life as the Sun itself. He said that to you once, when you asked why he calls you sunshine while laying your head in his lap, smiling in bliss as he stroked your hair. He said, “My world revolves around you.”

Even after three months, he still treats you with the same respect and gentleness and love and patience as that very first day, if not even more. There was only once you two had had a serious disagreement—it wasn’t really an argument, no one was angry, but it certainly could’ve been a massive dealbreaker for you.

Bucky never spoke much of his childhood, his teenage years, or even his adult ones, he only really went three years into the past, max, but you had pieced together he’s been through a lot, and so you never pushed him, but you made sure to make it clear you’d be there for him if and when he was ready to talk about it. There was a lot he did that showed you he was a war vet, and that as reluctant as he may be to admit it, he was suffering from some form of PTSD—he doesn’t like watching espionage films, or even movies with too much violence (which you don’t mind skipping, you don’t care too much for them either way), he’s sensitive to loud noises and a few times he’s jolted you out of your slumber with his nightmares, but he claims they’re much better with you than before. The metal arm also fascinated you—he said it’s made of vibranium, and you frowned at the thought of why he would need such a strong arm, but that you managed to get used to. What you couldn’t get used to, however, was his weaponry.

You had been sitting on the couch together when there was a thud from the next room over, and Bucky jumped up, soldier stance and everything, ready to go check it out. You were about to assure him it was nothing, tell him you forgot to close a window and a breeze probably knocked something over, when he slid a knife out of his boot and your breath caught in your throat. You followed the silver glint with your eyes as he stalked around the corner and then disappeared for a few moments.

“Birdie slammed against the window,” he said, relieved with a small smile, and you could hardly believe the juxtaposition between his use of the term ‘birdie’ while he held a knife securely in his hand. When you didn’t respond, staring at him with wide eyes, his brows turned downward in show of concern, and his voice came sincerely, “What’s wrong, sweetheart? It was nothing.” He incorrectly assumed the noise had scared you, but quickly came to understand when he noticed your gaze fixed on the knife.

“This?” he asked, casually, spinning the knife on his finger, but when you jumped back, he quickly hid it behind his back and cast his head downward in shame. He hadn’t meant to scare you, and though he felt bad, he couldn’t help but feel a little offended you’d think his arsenal was something to be afraid of. He’d never lay a hand on you, let alone a tool, why were you scared? Did you not trust him? He only kept this stuff to keep you safe. And besides, you knew about his slight paranoia with defence, so why did this catch you off guard? Sure, maybe the knife in the boot was a little too much for you to handle, but you seemed to take more issue with its existence rather than his convenient hiding.

“Sorry,” he mumbled an apology, managing to look up at you. “I didn’t mean to scare you, just had to make sure everything was alright.” He offered a weak smile in hopes of setting you at ease, but it faded when you stood up to confront him, shaking slightly.

“Why do you have a knife?” you asked in horror, voice raising in pitch. “What— do you just— do you just always have that on you?”

It’s the knife you’re worried about. Darling, if you knew the half of it.

“Protection,” he answered simply, innocently, not understanding your reaction.

“What— what else do you have? And— and in your house? You have to get rid of it!”

At any other time he would have pushed back on this (gently, of course), but in your frantic state he knew it wouldn’t serve either of you very well. He really hadn’t expected you to start hyperventilating about it. He switched to soothing you, holding you in his arms and promising he would get rid of all that, that you could feel safe… even though in his mind, his weapons were to make you feel safe, to keep you safe.

There’s a cupboard in Bucky’s house that’s always locked, and he tells you it’s just tools and some clutter he needs to clear out. But what you don’t know is he’s still got his shit in there. In any other circumstance, he would do anything you asked of him, but in this case, he got the impression you didn’t understand, that you were a little naïve when it came to this sort of stuff, like you’d always been sheltered and protected in a way that never needed violence. But he knows what the real world is like, and he knows what he’s got to do to keep you safe.

That was a few months ago. Now, trying to watch a film from the 40s—something with Jimmy Stewart, to grant Bucky a little nostalgia and tick another movie off your cinephile list—you both doze off, but you wake up before him. He usually wakes up earlier than you and falls asleep later, so you rarely see him asleep, only once you had to wake him up from the vivid nightmare, but here, now, he’s peaceful—his eyes are shut, his breathing is steady, his muscles aren’t tensed, this is the first time you’ve seen him lose himself to unconsciousness, and your heart swells at the realisation he feels safe enough to be so vulnerable around you.

As much as you would have loved to watch him breathe, after all the snacks you ate during the movie, your hands are sticky and you can’t really fall back asleep without washing them. On the way to the bathroom, you pause just before the door. The cupboard Bucky keeps his tools in is slightly ajar, it’s always been locked. And you’re not sure what compels you to head over to the door, but you carefully open it, wincing when it creaks slightly, before gasping at the scene.

He said he’d get rid of them! Not only are there multiple sharp blades of varying lengths, there’s more ammo that you could ever imagine needing, pistols, and a shotgun on the wall, you’re pretty sure you spot a fucking grenade, but maybe most terrifyingly is a mask. If this really was for safety (you’re really trying to give him the benefit of the doubt here) why the fuck did he have a mask? Like he was hiding behind it. He wouldn’t need to hide his identity from an intruder, he’d only need to if he was trying not to get caught if he was doing something wrong, if he was—

Bucky drops the bat to catch you before you hit the ground, wincing at the sight of your limp body in his arms. Fuck, he had stuck up a few more pictures of you earlier that day, and clearly forgot to lock the closet. The guilt from hurting you is enough to make him sick, but he’s got to figure out how to savage this.

If he just sets you right back on the couch and puts on some kind of thriller movie, you’ll think it was a dream when you wake up again, right? That your subconscious mind was taking in what was playing on the TV and affecting your sleep. That makes sense, that makes perfect sense, and that’s for you to figure out on your own; he won’t need to explain it or answer questions because really all it was was a bad dream, and he knows about those, you know he has experience with them, you’ll believe him when he tells you how real they can feel—you’ve seen it—and trust that everything’s alright, and he’s good to keep you safe.

After an hour, you begin to stir, and he redirects his gaze from being hyper focused on you to watching the film intently, though this far in he doesn’t know anything about the plot and hopes you don’t ask too many questions about it.

When he hears your quiet moans indicating you’re awake now, and feels your stretch beside him, he looks back at you. “Mornin’, Sunshine,” he teases, hoping you’ll giggle and say something about not realising it was dark outside. But you don’t, instead you startle and recoil back slightly, eyeing him suspiciously.

He forces his brows to furrow in confusion as he sets his half empty bowl of popcorn down on the coffee table. He tries to shift towards you but when you shift back, he sighs and stays in place.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asks in a low voice, his tone sincere and soothing. But he can tell you don’t buy it.

“You said you’d get rid of them!” you yell, and he winces slightly—you’ve never raised your voice at him, and if you’re this worked up over it it might take him a little more patience than anticipated to do some damage control.

“Get rid of what?” he asks. The best thing to do here is just play dumb.

“Your— your weapons! There’s— there’s so many of them, you said you’d get rid of them!”

“Baby, baby, baby,” he coos when you start breathing heavily, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. “You just had a bad dream, okay? It’s alright…”

“No!” you shriek, kicking him away from you. “In the— in the closet!”

“What closet?”

“The— the one with the tools!”

“There’s nothing in there, sweetheart.”

“Then open it.”

He freezes for a second—he hadn’t expected you to ask that. “I don’t— I don’t know where the key is.” Fuck. He’s fucked. He knew it from the moment he hesitated, and his stuttering further solidified his guilt in your mind. His eyes grew just a little wider as he waited for you to respond, hardly breathing. You can read him like an open book, and he knows he can’t backtrack the few small ticks that set you on the scent.

You narrow your eyes suspiciously at him for a moment, but blink, and then nod, slowing your breaths down and directing your stare to the floor. “Alright,” you say, and Bucky himself can’t help but sigh in relief.

“I’m sorry you had a bad dream,” he coos as he shifts closer to you, and this time, you don’t shift away. He puts his arms around you and comfortingly rubs your shoulder, resting his head on top of yours.

You don’t buy it for a second.

That’s way too specific a dream for you to have months after even thinking about that stuff, and you’re not fucking stupid, you can tell what’s real and what’s not, and that was real. But for the time being, it seems easier to appease him. Maybe you really did imagine it… you doubt it, though, especially when Bucky’s body went rigid in response to your request. Even if you didn’t see what you thought you did, he’s definitely hiding something in that closet.

His phone rings, and he sighs, apologising as he carefully unwraps himself from you, reaching into his pocket to answer the phone as he stands up. “Hello?” There’s a few quick and low words from whoever’s on the other end and the groan he lets out allows you to guess it’s something Avengers-related. Though he isn’t an Avenger anymore (he gave up all violence, even in the name of justice) Sam does occasionally call him up to ask for advice on espionage matters or blueprints or just his thoughts on whatever’s going on.

“I’ve got to run, sweetheart; Sam’s being an asshole and I need to do some damage control,” he chuckles, and looks back down at you hesitantly, waiting for a response of some kind, but you’re quiet, arms crossed over your chest, slouched on the couch and looking at the floor, almost petulant but more… pensive. And that worries him.

“I can— I can stay if you want me to—”

“No,” you answer so casually it’s like something in him shatters. Sure, you’re not always grovelling at his feet when he opens the door but you’ve never been so nonchalant about him leaving to go take care of stuff. Even if it wasn’t all that sincere, you’d still make a little scene out of missing him so much. “I’ll see you later.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but quickly shuts it, pressing his lips into a thin line as he nods, and then sighs.

He can’t leave you alone here: you’ll either run the second you can or hurt yourself trying to figure out how to get the cupboard open again. In both cases he won't be able to keep you safe, you’ll get hurt. But you’re also not yourself right now, and he doesn’t want to come on too strong and risk scaring you off for good. Not that he’d ever let you get away.

So he leaves, locks the door, but doesn’t get in his car. Usually he would grant that you’d be able to see the red flag there but you seem hyper focused on getting to his shit and he surmises he can get away with it. Between the tall plants covering his windows, he can just about make you out, sitting completely still on the couch for a few moments, it’s like you’re not even breathing. He subconsciously finds himself holding his breath as well—Are you waiting for him to start the car? Have you noticed he didn’t take his wallet?—narrowing his eyes at you, trying to anticipate your next move.

60 seconds, and you jump up.

***

You take a very quick look around the lounge, just to really make sure he left, and with no sign of him, you start off down the corridor again to his cupboard. It’s locked, and you know better than to even try to look for the key. But you have to do something: how could you live with yourself knowing that either you’d have broken up with your seemingly perfect boyfriend for no reason at all, or ever feel at peace again when there’s this heavy suspicion just hanging there?

You don’t know how you ever learnt it but you pull a pin from your hair and unfold it, closing one eye and sticking your tongue out slightly as you wriggle it around in the key slot, muttering “Please, please, please, please, please” to yourself over and over as you strain to hear for the clicks. One, two, three clicks and it opens! And you have no idea how you did it but it’s done now. You quickly open the door and gasp. You really shouldn’t be surprised—you know it wasn’t a dream—but the double confirmation really takes the wind out of you, and you feel betrayed. He lied to you, why did he lie to you? But there’s something else you didn’t notice before. On the inside of the door, polaroids of you that you know are before you met him are hung up haphazardly with messy tape—and they’re pictures of you doing mundane tasks, your everyday life. With shaking hands, you reach towards one that you’re afraid is of you in the shower, tears collecting on your lashes. As you reach for it, your elbow hits a shotgun and it falls and fires.

You scream as you jump back, and away from the door, you come face to face with Bucky at the end of the hallway, looking horrified as if it’s you who’s doing what you’re not supposed to.

Why the fuck is this thing even loaded if it’s just sitting around? These are assault rifles and deadly tools just at the ready, all the time.

Bucky carefully calls your name, and you turn on your heel and sprint towards the bedroom door at the opposite end of the corridor, but he catches up to you way too easily. He grabs you and slams your head against the doorway, causing you to black out and fall to the floor.

***

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh fuck! How was he so careless not once but twice? What if you’d gotten seriously hurt or even killed? And he’s mad at himself but he can’t help but feel mad at you, too. Why didn’t you just leave it alone? Sure, he fucked up by forgetting to lock it but why on Earth did you push for it? It was locked this time, why were you so obsessed with this!?

He takes a few deep breaths to stop himself from launching into a panic attack. He can fix this, it’s fine, you just need a bit of time to calm down, but he has a feeling if you took a relationship ‘break’ he’d never find you again. So you can’t leave, you just need to be somewhere safe.

Bucky’s basement is hardly even a room—that’s why he keeps his weapons upstairs, and so that they’re always there when he needs them. It’s small, but big enough for a few shelves and a twin-sized mattress, it’s more a very temporary storm shelter—or a panic room, to a weaker person. There aren’t any windows, and so the thought of getting you situated there for an indefinite amount of time isn’t pleasant. He always gets up before you, and, yes, part of that is nature, and part of it is his awe for your peaceful sleeping form, a level of serenity in darkness he’s not sure he’d ever be able to achieve. The sun peaks in through the curtains and lightly bronzes your skin for a few minutes until you stir and wake up to him beside you, pure adoration in his eyes. And every morning, he knows he’d give up the light of day forever if he could only wake up next to you one more time.

***

You grimace as you wake up, feeling uncomfortable—the room feels somehow cold yet stuffy, and the mattress you’re laying on feels scruffy and a little old. You toss and turn a few times before you realise that this is real. When the thought hits, you rip your eyes open, shooting upright to scan your surroundings while your breathing gets heavier and heavier.

Your eyes land on Bucky sitting at the bottom of the stairs with a book in one hand, his metal one mindlessly twirling a thick chain between his fingers, tightening and loosening it. To test, you tug on your leg and he automatically grips tighter to the restraint, even before noticing you’re up.

“Hey, sweetheart…” he coos, setting his book down and letting go of the chain. He crouches down and sits at the bottom of the mattress, coaxing you with soothing rubs on your shin like you’re a mental patient or a wild animal, unpredictable. “How’re you feeling?”

How are you feeling? How are you feeling?

“Are you out of your mind!?” you shriek, and kick at him—it doesn’t hurt him, but he does raise his palm from your leg. Dropping his voice to a sweeter tone, he tries to calm you down. “You’re alright, you’re safe, everything’s okay, baby.”

He reaches out a hand to stroke your face but you slap it away, looking up at him with wild eyes and messy hair, you let your tone drop to a dangerous low as you warn, “Don’t… touch me.”

He gives a disappointed sigh but eventually tuts to himself in agreement. You just need to get this out of your system, it’ll be fine.

But it’s not. It’s not fine, and it’s taking a toll on him. You’ve never been like this before, so angry and irrational and erratic and unpredictable, but that’s not what he minds. He can deal with you throwing insults his way, swinging at him (in vain, of course) or resorting to silence, but what really starts to tick him off is when you refuse to eat. He let it slide the first day, tried to play it cool and just left the tray down for you, but he went upstairs and nervously paced back and forth until the morning. When he came down with breakfast, he discovered you hadn’t so much as touched your meal, not even the tray itself, and though he asked you in an even tone to eat something (and got nothing but silence in return) it was worrying him, he nearly wanted to plead with you, but he knew if he cracked you’d see a weak spot and keep ramming it until you get your way, and he can’t have that.

It’s the third day now, and he finally decides he needs to feed you. He sits down in front of you and pulls the tray towards him, scooping up some rice on a plastic spoon. He holds the food to your lips but you keep them shut tight, even when he gently pokes your mouth a few times. He’s sure you can see the stress you’re causing him: he’s hardly sleeping, as shown by the bags under his eyes, and he can’t even go for a jog to clear his head in case you do something crazy while he’s gone. With a deep breath, he sets the spoon down and leans back, considering his next move. Maybe you’d drink a smoothie. Not ideal but better than nothing.

“Alright,” he huffs as he stands up. “I’ll be right back, I’m gonna make you a smoothie.”

He’s only just turned his back when he hears clattering, and when he looks back to you, you’ve got fury etched onto your features and the food he so carefully and lovingly prepared for you is strewn across the floor.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” he bellows, and backhands you, sending you to the floor. With your mouth agape, you clutch your cheek and look up at him in shock. He’s never even raised his voice at you, let alone yelled, let alone lay a finger on you. “Just fucking listen to me! Eat!” He kicks the tray further back and you startle, paralysed by pure shock.

He takes a deep breath in, and a long huff out, clenching his fists at his sides. His blue eyes you had once thought of as calm oceans are ablaze, he’s shaking with anger, and his voice quivers as he tries to speak in a level tone to you. “I… am going to make you a smoothie, and you are going to drink it, or you’ll never see the sun again.”

When he slams the door shut behind him, you finally allow tears to fall. You don’t know what that threat means—will he never let you out? Will he kill you? At first you didn’t think so, even when he held you down as you screamed and kicked, but you never thought he’d hit you either, you never thought he was capable of such rage, and though he kept it relatively under control, you saw what that was. It wasn’t just ire, it was like flames licked his entire being, engulfing him and lighting him up. While you thought of him as your Sun, now, that was for a different reason—now, he feels like the actuality of the star: unpredictable and unbearably dangerous, but… necessary for survival, and inescapable.

✪

[my beloved taglist; @cowboysnbugs, @buckys-wintersoldier, @keito-123, @vogueprincess, @cjand10]

[cultofdixon]

Matchmaker Grimes

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Carl Grimes’ Older Sister!Reader • Carl saw how close you and the archer were getting and thought he (with a little help from dad) he can get the two of you together • SFW/Smol Angst • TW: Anxiety

Requested by: Anon

“Y/N, mind doing me a favor?”

“If it’s something stupid I won’t do it Carl” Y/N scoffs in a playful manner to show her brother she wasn’t serious about turning down whatever it may be. Even if the silence wasn’t going to get her to do what he wants of her. “Dude. Spit it out”

“Shit, sorry. Mind checking the snares? Dad asked me to ask you”

“Then why did you phrase it in wanting me to do you a favor?”

“I panicked and forgot that dad asked me to ask you. I just remembered that it was him asking—-“

“You’re scrambling. But yeah I’ll go take care of it” Y/N shooed him away so that she could get ready in private, even if the blanket curtain for a cell door wasn’t enough privacy.

As the eldest Grimes sibling made her way outside the gates of the prison to check the snares for her father. She noticed the archer setting up new ones after re-setting up the old ones.

Daryl looked up when he heard a throat clear, finally noticing Y/N as he straightens up. “Uh. Rick asked me—-“

“Oh, funny. My dad asked me to do it…too” Y/N tried not to be so nervous around the archer when talking to him.

“I could use a hand though, so you’re perfect—-“ Daryl himself was nervous around the eldest Grimes sibling. “I-I mean it’s…perfect. You…you can help. Yeah”

While that was happening, Rick was currently on watch as he had a pair of binoculars checking the parameter from his tower and more specifically watching the two take care of the snares. They were getting quite a bit of game and while they were out they took care of a few walkers that threatened the fence.

“Anything?” Carl questions the moment he arrived as Rick handed the binoculars to his son.

“Yea know I can’t hear anything right?”

“No shit dad!”

“Language”

“Whatever. I just wanna know if they are talking to each other. I don’t gotta hear what they’re saying” Carl states looking into the binoculars checking on the two himself.

As Y/N finished setting up the last snare she noticed Daryl staring into the prison but more specifically the watch tower. She brought herself to stand beside him curious to what he was looking at.

“Why does your brother have binoculars?”

“Cuz he’s a weirdo. I don’t know” Y/N watching Carl put away the binoculars by shoving them into his dad’s side.

“It’d be weirder if he had one of those…uhhh…”

“A listening device? Aren’t they called bugs?”

“I was thinkin’ the microphone things cops had in old cop films. For spyin’” Daryl adjusted his crossbow on his back as Y/N crosses her arms watching her family scramble in the watchtower.

“I miss movies”

“Yea had a favorite film?”

“Guess” Y/N smiles at Daryl watching his expression soften while in thought.

“Were yea one of them twilight girls?”

“Ew no” She laughs at the guess as Daryl felt a twitch of a smile Grace his face when hearing her laugh. “Lori was obsessed with the books. But as for my favorite movie, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind”

“Jim Carrey fan?”

“No, I just really enjoyed the film. I could probably recite it by heart I’ve seen it a lot” Y/N started to make her way back to the main gates with Daryl following shortly behind while carrying the catches the traps caught.

“Uhm…think yea could recite it to me like…sometime or whatever”

“Sure, after dinner?” Y/N’s smile he will take to memory. She watches him nod with a hint of his smile peaking out. “Cool”

The night came in and dinner was made with the rabbits they’ve caught in the snares. It was put into a stew with some of the vegetables they grew in the gardens. Some of the people were eating outside and some were inside…Carl found himself sitting outside at the table with his dad and baby sister with the Greenes and Rhees. He was watching Y/N talking to Carol at another table with Daryl sitting with them.

“Carl”

Carl quickly snapped back to the table he was at seeing a few laugh at his attention being elsewhere.

“Sorry what?”

“You gotta eat, son” Rick laughs a bit as he held Judith giving her a bottle. “We’re running out of formula”

“She should be able to start takin’ solids soon but in mush form. We do have carrots coming in” Hershel adds his input as he enjoys the dinner.

“Think we should have a run set up. Just a quick one to see if there’s anymore formula out there before weening her off”

“Glenn and I—-“

“Y/N and Daryl don’t have morning watch tomorrow. They can go on a quick run. I’ll go tell them” Carl quickly got up from his seat making his way over to their table.

Glenn couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him catching everyone’s attention at their picnic table. “Sorry sorry”

“What it’s cute that he’s trying to set them up” Beth was quick to add as that caught Rick’s attention instantly.

“Y’all know what he’s doing?”

“It’s obvious”

“And boy are those two oblivious” Maggie smiles at the two before turning back to her table failing to contain her laughter. “Glenn and I have tried before. But we honestly thought you’d have a problem with it”

“Or it’ll blow up in our faces because it’s the apocalypse and locking the two in an abandoned house can lead to a walker being shoved out a window” Glenn avoided eye contact as that would explain the time Y/N had to get stitches. “Ruined the mood”

“I don’t have a problem with it.“ Rick states setting the bottle down and getting up from his seat to take Judith inside. “I’d only have a problem if he hurts her”

A few hours passed and everyone was inside for the night, Daryl was getting off his watch about to light a cig when he noticed Y/N sitting alone outside. He quickly discarded the cigarette while making his way over to her in the fields.

“Hey”

Y/N looks up from her lap giving Daryl a tired smile before returning her attention onto the book she had in her lap.

“You okay?” He asks bringing himself to sit with her hearing a ‘Mhm’ as a response. “Mind if I sit with yea?”

“Not at all” she smiles watching him the best she could given the barely any light from the solar powered lantern she found from the last run.

Daryl brought himself close bringing his attention to the pictures she was fiddling with hidden in the pages.

“Who’s that?”

“My mom with Lori, then this one” Y/N handed one over to Daryl as he brought it more toward her lantern to get a look. “Carl and I when I was moving out”

“Yea look happy…how’d these manage to survive this long? If yea don’t mind me askin’”

“I know how to take care of my shit” Y/N laughs dryly being handed the photo back as she put it back in a small copy of Flowers for Algernon. No correlation, just know her dad or brother would pick up the book. “My coat has an inside pocket big enough to hold the book I keep them in. Only take it off to sleep so it’s always on me”

“Smart. Kinda like the vest I’ve got. It’ll stay intact as long as it’s with me.”

“The wings suit you by the way. Being a guardian angel of sorts” Y/N smiles listening to him scoff followed by a short lived chuckle. “Ever gonna trust someone to wear them? You do trust Carol to clean it”

“Eh she just showed me how to take care of it. To avoid the wings tearing off…but yeah I’ve got someone in mind, I’d trust to wear’em”

“Oh yeah?” Y/N smiles at the archer not getting an answer of who as the silence grew slightly between them before she took a risk bringing herself beside him resting her head on his shoulder. “They must be pretty special”

She is Daryl tensed at first contact but relaxed after a second watching her curl into his side.

The morning came and Y/N stepped out of the watchtower from taking over Maggie’s morning shift ending just in time to go on the quick run with Daryl. He sat on his bike listening to what they needed to look for from Rick as he brought his attention to Y/N approaching.

“So you know what to—-“

“Get. Now you get” Daryl gestures with his head for Rick to leave as he gave him a confused look before turning to his daughter coming over and left with an amused chuckle escaping him.

Daryl straightens up gripping onto the helmet in his hands as Y/N instantly beams at the archer.

“You look ready”

“Oh I—If you ain’t I can—“

“No I’m good. I’m ready” She continues to smile as Daryl handed her the helmet. “Now why do you have this for me but not yourself?”

“You’re sitting behind me, sunshine. Can’t have yea getting brain damage falling off”

“Hey this isn’t my first time riding yknow”

“Oh?” Daryl smirks bringing himself forward so that Y/N can hop on once she got her helmet secured. “Wouldn’t have pegged yea to be the rebellious type with a dad like that”

“Mm I got away with a lot” Y/N giggles to herself about to wrap her arms around Daryl when she turned back to find Rick looking at the two. “CAN YEA GET THE GATES OLD MAN?”

The archer couldn’t help himself by laughing at her words as his mind drew a blank instantly when she wrapped her arms around his torso.

“Old man really?” Rick comments with a bit of a snicker while passing to get the gate.

Soon the two were off and Carl brought himself to the gates once they closed.

“I’ve got a plan if this doesn’t work”

“I bet yea it will given it’s just them”

“Yeah well. I’m still gonna do my plan and it’s about tonight’s night shifts. Daryl is right after Y/N’s.”

“I’m listening” Rick started to walk back to the prison listening to his son’s plan, knowing part of it will probably not matter given these two being alone now?

Gives them enough time to say something

Or

Do something Daryl thought as he follows Y/N through a mini grocery watching her take everything that would benefit their group. Still keeping an eye out for what Rick asked Daryl to find.

“Hey uh Y/N I—-“

“I love you” Y/N blurted to Daryl as she was taking her own chances but when he didn’t respond right away, she decided to scramble and head further into the building. “Sorry!”

“Nah wait” Daryl quickly followed after her through the market as she always managed to get further ahead. “Y/N Damn it! Stop runnin’ from me please” he finally managed to cut her off as it led to her practically running into him.

“Shit sorry—“

“No I’m sorry, Y/N. Shit yea caught me off guard a moment ago—-“

“Yeah I get that and I totally get it if you don’t—-“

“Stop!” Daryl snapped, murmuring a few apologies when it caused her to flinch. He held her shoulders watching her eyes avoid his as he gently held her chin with his right hand making her look at him. “Yea caught me off guard. I-I was gonna say the same…just Uhm. Never thought you’d feel the same way”

“I…” Y/N exhaled a small laugh before bringing her hands to carefully hold his face. “I just wanted a moment alone with you to tell you and felt that something has been pushing me to this.”

“I felt that too” Daryl brought his hands to rest on her hips bringing her close. “I…fuck, you beat me to it earlier” he chuckles lightly smiling, simply enjoying her laugh and feeling her hands move to behind his neck. “But god I love yea. I love you so much”

“Kiss me then, Dixon” Y/N smiles as the archer didn’t hesitate to bring his lips against hers loving every part of her even more keeping her close.

“Yea think they’ve gotten into some trouble?” Rick asks Hershel as it’s been hours. What was supposed to be a quick run, turned into them being gone for hours.

“Are you worried about your daughter? She’s proven to be strong enough to care for herself, Rick. And Daryl’s with her.”

Rick continued to pace the gardens while Hershel kept the upkeep on their veggies being a listening ear to his friend’s concern.

“I should go out there”

“Yea shouldn’t. If they don’t surface tomorrow, then a few of us can go look for them.” Hershel grabbed some mulch from his bucket and started to place it in the soil when he brought his attention to the familiar roar of Daryl’s bike. “Don’t have to send a party out” he states watching Rick sprint over to the gates.

“The fuck happen to a quick ru—-Where’s my daughter, Dixon?” He only ever used Daryl’s last name when he was pissed and the conversation included Y/N.

“Are you blind?” Daryl scoffs bringing his bike to its usual spot as Rick quickly turns to the car coming through having Y/N in the drivers.

As the car pulls in and Y/N stepped out after parking it, Rick instantly grabbed her into a hug out of sudden anxiety for her safety as she awkwardly pats his back wanting him to stop.

“I didn’t die”

“You gotta stop saying that” Rick sighs pulling away and checking her for injuries as she gently pushes him back. “Sorry”

“You worry too much, old man. But look at what we brought back” Y/N gestures for him to check out their findings in the trunk and as she listens to Rick being grateful that they decided to stick outside the walls longer to get more of what they need, she looked over to Daryl seeing him crouched by his bike checking it out after the ride looking over to her.

The archer shot her a smile as she returned it followed by a wink before turning to her dad talking about the blankets they found and giving them to the kids they have at the prison. While all that happens, Carl who stood by the entrance to their cellblock from the outside, noticed their small exchange and quickly went to Daryl knowing his sister wouldn’t hear what he’s about to say.

“You break my sister’s heart and I end you” Carl suddenly stated to the man who gave him a confused look before he could fully take in what he said.

“I’ll never break your sister’s heart”

“You better. Cuz I’m fucking serious” Carl crosses his arms. “I will end you”

Daryl scoffs as he removes one of his knifes from their slot handing it to Carl and with his normal serious tone.

“If I ever, EVER, do wrong by your sister? You know exactly what to do with that”

And on that note Daryl went to help his girl and Rick with unloading the goods from the “new” car they brought. Carl stood there watching and fiddled with the knife in his hand. Knowing he’s never gonna have to use it.

[linamromero]

𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒.

𝐥𝐞𝐢𝐥𝐚 𝐨𝐮𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Moving from your native country of Spain to Manchester in England with your fiancée Leila was a lot to get your head around.

Meaning you had to leave your tattoo business in the hands of your sister which wasn’t the best for you however moving overseas would be good to have a break for a while.

This is how you met Leila. Most of the Barcelona players, female and male got their tattoos done by you. One that attended the parlour the most was Mapi León, she brought Leila along with her one day so they could both get tattoos done.

The brunette decided on an Egyptian eye under her right boob, you were quite surprised at her choice of where the tattoo was to be but you caught a glimpse of lust in her chocolate eyes when she said it.

She kept making excuses to come to your tattoo parlour when she wasn’t playing football just to see you. You soon picked her up on it and she admitted her feelings to you which you were flattered by but you did feel the same way.

After dating for three years she plucked up the courage to ask you to be her wife, you obviously said yes to.

…

“Bueno, okay, i’ll see you when you get home, te amo mucho.” You blew kisses at the camera, you phone propped up in the kitchen.

“Te amo mucho!” Leila pouted back at you before you pressed the red hang up button.

Tonight you were having a Spanish night which you had every friday, every two weeks you would invite Ona and Laia around, who played football with Leila but tonight it was just you two.

You connected your phone to your speaker, blasting the likes of Rosalía, Bad Bunny, Bizarrap etc. Dancing around the kitchen as you made Pa amb tomàquet.

Making paella was your absolute favourite, everyone loved it, even some of Leila’s english teammates that had came over one night who don’t really like seafood said it was to die for.

You had it in the large dish as Despechá began to play, it was your all time favourite song you couldn’t help but sing and dance along as you cleared up. The music was so loud you didn’t hear Leila come in, she was enjoying watching you move your hips along to the beat.

“Oh hõla bebé.” She bit her lip, making you jump.

“LEILA!” You shouted, throwing a towel at her, “Lo siento but you scare me!”

“Lo siento i was enjoying the show.” She said as you sent her a look.

“Stop it.” You rolled your eyes turning the music down slightly.

“Food smells amazing as usual.” Your fiancée complimented.

“Gracias, why don’t you go and get changed and i’ll set the table.” You suggested which she agreed.

She returned in a hoodie, shorts and socks sitting opposite you, “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

“Let’s eat then.”

You plated up both dishes, taking a mouthful of the seafood dish, “Bebé this is incredible.”

A massive smile appeared on your face as she took a second mouthful.

Once you’d eaten, you both decided to crash into your large bed and watch a movie,“What you want to watch?” Leila asked pulling you onto her lap.

“Desperado.”

“Your favourite.” The defender hummed into your hair.

As the movie played Leila began stroking your face, tracing your freckles embedded into your skin. Her actions tended to send you to sleep, you quickly rolled over so she would stop, “Y/N why did you move.”

“Because i would’ve fell asleep else.” You replied taking your sports bra off.

“What are you doing.”

“What i’m hot.” You shrugged going back to the same position you were in before, “You copying me now?”

She laughed taking her own bra off, “Maybe.”

…

As the movie went on you noticed Leila becoming distracted, playing with your hair not paying attention to the movie. “Leila querida what are you thinking about.”

“You.” She mumbled.

You sighed, “Why is that mi amor.”

“You do everything for me i appreciate it, you cook, you clean, you work, you even moved to Manchester with me.” She said.

“Of course I try my best to look you, your going to be my wife after all.”

“I know and I can’t wait.”

“Me too querida.”

—————

Short and Sweet ❤️

[putmeinmoviebaby]

As I look at the huge door in front of me, I take a few seconds before actually knocking and waiting for the person on the other side to answer.

“Ah, it was about time. I thought you were going to be late,” I hear my sister’s voice in front of me as she opens the door and gives me a quick once-over.

“I left work early today so I’d have time,” I say, following her into the house and closing the door behind me.

“Most of the guests have already arrived; only a few of John’s friends from work are still on their way. Come help me in the kitchen for a second.”

“Is Lily coming?” I ask, picking up a few plates and setting them on a table next to her.

“She said she’d try, but she wasn’t sure. By the way, there’s a friend of John’s I want you to meet,” she says, with a soft laugh, picking up a glass of wine and offering it to me.

I accept the glass and take a long sip of the dry wine, hoping it will help me get through this long dinner.

“Come here,” I hear her voice calling me toward the living room, where most of the guests are gathered, all drinking and chatting animatedly.

Following my sister Emma, I spot her husband, John, across the room with a couple who are laughing and drinking wine.

“Sweetheart, Y/n just arrived,” she says, looking at me. “Harry and Taylor, this is my younger sister, Y/n.”

I shake hands with both of them, greeting them with a simple “hi,” and give John a light hug, who pats me on the back.

When I look to the side, I see a tall man with tousled blond hair, wearing black dress pants and a simple white button-up shirt, holding a glass of wine between his fingers.

The man had clear eyes, eyes that I couldn’t look away from; they looked like the ocean.

“Yes, she works at an art gallery, the one I told you about, Taylor. She was organizing an exhibition for the artist…” I feel my sister give me a gentle tap on the back, pulling my attention back.

Completely mesmerized by the man’s presence beside me, I had lost track of what I was saying or doing.

“Yes, I’m working with him. He’s a great artist, and we have a lot of projects for the future,” I say, smiling and looking at the couple.

I see someone approach my sister, giving her a kiss on the cheek to greet her, then moving toward John.

“Hayden, this is my sister, the one I was telling you about.” I see my sister pointing in my direction at the man with clear eyes beside her.

The man in front of me now looks at me warmly and steps closer, greeting me with a kiss on the cheek.

“Hi, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Hayden.”

“Oh, hey! I guess you already know, but I’m Y/n,” I respond with a polite smile.

He lets out a low laugh, takes a sip from the glass in his hand, and turns, still looking at me.

“Your sister told me you work at an art gallery in New York.”

“Oh, yes. I’ve been working there for a while now. It’s an amazing place, with so many talented artists.”

“I saw your last exhibition while I was working nearby. I must say, your work isn’t easy, but everything looked incredible,” he says, smiling slightly.

“You have no idea! I spend the whole day running from one place to another on exhibition days, but I’m glad you liked it,” I say, smiling sincerely and taking a sip of wine.

I hardly noticed that my sister and her husband had already stepped away, and now I was alone with Hayden, talking.

“Do you also work in the arts? You give me writer vibes,” I say as I observe him.

He laughs heartily after my comment.

“No, actually, I’m an actor. I never thought of being a writer. If I tried, I think I’d be a terrible one.” I give a soft laugh and reply:

“Do I know any of your work? Your face looks familiar; I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere.”

“Maybe. One of my most memorable roles was playing Anakin Skywalker in Star Wars. Perhaps you know me from there.”

“Oh, how did I miss that? I had a classmate in college who was obsessed with Star Wars. Every weekend, she’d watch the movies. I ended up memorizing the characters’ lines after seeing them so many times,” I say, laughing.

“Fans are truly passionate about the saga. I really enjoyed being part of that project; it brings back great memories. It’s a character I hold close to my heart.”

“I can imagine! I can’t say I’m the biggest Star Wars fan since I ended up falling asleep during the first movie, but I find the universe really fascinating.”

“How did you fall asleep?” I hear his laughter.

“I’m super sleepy all the time, but I still remember the third movie in the series. Thought you looked like such a dream with those curly locks!"

“Oh, thanks for the compliment! Although, a lot of that hair was extensions; not all of it was mine,” he says, laughing at my words.

As we talked, I noticed how Hayden’s voice sounded soft, almost like a melody that soothed me, even with all the movement around us. He seemed so comfortable talking about his career, especially about how Star Wars changed his life, that I hardly noticed the time passing.

“Life in Hollywood isn’t always as easy as it seems,” he said, turning his gaze to me.

“Sometimes, I feel like I’d trade it all for a simpler life… without all the exposure.” His clear eyes sparkled for a moment, but then he let out a small laugh, as if trying to dispel the seriousness in his tone.

“I can imagine that it must be tough... but it’s a unique life, one that many people dream of having,” I replied, trying to sound understanding. “Sometimes I feel like the gallery already exposes me too much. I couldn’t handle what you go through.” I laughed softly, and he joined in, nodding as if he understood.

Hayden fell silent for a moment and then leaned a little closer, lowering his voice, as if the rest of the party had disappeared around us.

“Maybe you’re the first person I can talk to about this without having to play the ‘movie star.’ It’s nice to just be… Hayden.”

A shiver ran through me. His words were simple, but the way he looked at me made me forget everything around us. The world seemed to shrink, focused on the space between us.

Before I could respond, a voice echoed from across the room. “Hey, Hayden, you’ve got to see this!” John, my brother-in-law, waved enthusiastically at him. Hayden let out a sigh and gave me a smile that carried a hint of regret.

“I should go over there,” he said but hesitated, still looking me in the eyes as if he wanted to say something more.

“Of course,” I replied, trying to hide the slight disappointment in my voice. He took a step back, but before turning, he lightly touched my hand, leaving a warmth that seemed to spread through me.

“It was nice meeting you, Y/n.” His voice sounded almost like a promise.

I simply smiled, certain that this wouldn’t be our last encounter. As he walked away, I looked at the nearly empty glass of wine in my hand and wondered what this brief meeting could mean.

The End

[notafunkiller]

all's well that ends well

Summary: Bucky watches the interview.

Pairing: director!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader

Warnings: fluff (Bucky comforts the reader), age gap (r is 24, Bucky is 36), teasing, language, pet names, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 1.1K

story masterlist

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: An extra thank you to @marvelouslizzie and @lavenderhaze967​ for being my beta readers and for the endless support.

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

At first, you don’t notice the change in his attitude, still talking with your sister over the phone about her new manager. You lip-sync the word popcorn, and he simply shakes his head, immediately looking down at his phone again as you go to the kitchen.

Only after you hang up and return with some snacks he didn’t bring before you paused the movie, you sense his tension. A lot of tension. He doesn’t even seem to hear you as you silently place the candies on the table and sit on the couch so close to him that your legs are touching.

“Work?” You ask, knowing he recently had some disagreements with one of the producers he’s working with.

He puts down his phone instead of directly answering and drags you onto his lap.

You gasp, surprised.

“Buck!”

“Why did you not tell me?”

Tell him what? You’re genuinely confused because you don’t remember keeping a secret away from him.

“Huh?”

“About the interview.”

You don’t know what interview he’s talking about for a couple of seconds, but when it hits you, you get red, grabbing his face with both of your hands.

“Fuck her…”

“She disrespected you!”

“No, she disrespected you more than me by insinuating something like that. I am new, I understand, but you’ve been around for a decade. I wanted to curse her so badly.”

Not even your last sentence can make Bucky laugh. He’s so serious and upset, you try to stroke his cheeks in order to soften him up.

You care, of course you do, but not that much since they can’t see the bigger picture.

They can call you a whore all they want, you can prove them wrong by working… but when it comes to Bucky? You can’t accept it. Bucky is the sweetest, and most honest guy you’ve ever met in this industry. He isn’t using his advantages as a director for anything, especially to get a woman.

“You answered very well.” He kisses your palms, one by one. “But you didn’t have to defend me. You should have told her she is a bitch and walked away.”

You laugh at the way he said bitch and get more comfortable on his lap.

“She is a bitch, indeed. She knew I don’t take personal life questions, so she found an indirect way to attack.”

Bucky pouts and shakes his head. “She doesn’t seem so smart to do it intentionally.”

“No, I meant to attack me because she is obviously above a young girl who slept around with a director to get a job.”

You watch him frown instantly. You understand he hates this, but it’s how they see it. “Don’t say that. She is the one who doesn’t do her job properly. It was an awards show, not Love Island.”

This makes you laugh again. “Love Island? Not so old after all.” You kiss his nose. He’s hot, and smart, and all yours. “I know it wasn’t like that. You know it wasn’t like that. Our families and friends, too. And that is more than enough for me at this point.”

“I don’t want this for you!”

“I knew this was coming when our photos got all over the media. Even before that. But I don’t give a fuck. As long as I have you and I get a chance to audition for whatever project I want, I’m fine.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“Bucky...” You sigh.

His eyes are so glossy you have to refrain from comforting him more.

“I mean it, I’m not! They think they can get away with this shit and I don’t want them to.”

You sigh again. Of course… It doesn’t matter what you’ll say now, it’s clear he did something about it. “What did you do?”

“I am taking care of it.” He gives you an assuring smile, and his vague answer makes you more curious now. He always takes care of you, but what does that mean in this case?

“Define what taking care of it means, James.”

Bucky shrugs. “How’s your sister?”

“Bucky!” You slap his chest lightly. He really tried to change the subject as if he hasn’t learned his lesson by now. “Tell me now!”

“Easy,” he snorts. “Quite aggressive to your old man.”

You smile instantly. “So you do like it! But don’t change the subject.”

“I only messaged a friend.”

“What friend?” You raise your eyebrow. He’s not clear enough for your like.

“A friend who knows her boss.”

You grab his face again, concerned. “Are you going to fire her? Bucky, please...”

The last thing you want is that. Sure, she was awful to you two, but you would feel guilty about it. You never thought Bucky would actually do something like that, but you also never saw him so angry and tense.

“Nope, better.”

“What?” You feel relieved, but also confused.

“Apologies on the official page and on her social media accounts.”

You don’t say anything for a few seconds, but then you peck him without warning. He cares about the way you are treated more than you do, and he won’t back down. You feel so loved at the moment you can barely hold back tears because of this little gesture.

“Bubba, you know that will incriminate us more, right?”

“I give zero fucks. She should fucking beg for your forgiveness on her knees.”

His ice-cold tone makes you melt. He has your back. Always. As he promised.

“The only person that I want to see begging on his knees is you, old man.” You kiss him again, but properly this time, making sure to bite his bottom lip in the process.

“Fuck!” He groans, stroking your cheeks. “We can make that happen.”

“Later.” You giggle, getting off his lap before things escalate too much. You want to “edge” him a little. “Now tell me how you found out about it. Did someone send the link to you?”

You see him blush little by little as he brings his right hand to his face. “I found it.”

“Did you look for it or something?”

“I always watch your interviews. Plus, I was bored waiting for you, so I thought...”

You giggle, taking a sip from your glass. “I was gone for 5 minutes! Is that a thing you always do when I leave?” You tease him.

“Let’s just watch the movie already.”

“No way, mister, you have to tell me everything!”

He sighs dramatically and brings you close enough so you can rest your head on his chest.

“What do you want to know? I told you I do.”

“When it started, how often you do it, and what’s your favorite. This is valuable information, James.”

He laughs silently, but you still feel it because of the vibrations of his chest. You don’t think there are words good enough to describe how much you love him.

“Alright, alright. I’ll tell you.”

[missdreamfyre]

RANKING 10 DEPICTIONS OF MARY 1ST

Today, I’m looking at 10 depictions of the first queen regnant of England, Mary Tudor. Of course, Mary has been depicted more than ten times, but I’m restricting this list to English-speaking, adult portrayals. I don’t feel comfortable discussing portrayals of children or performances in languages I don’t speak, as I would struggle to discuss the intricacies of those performances. To be included, the portrayal must feature at least two scenes (so no deathbed scenes with Catherine, sorry!).

This list was hugely inspired by @theladyelizabeth who made their own list discussing Elizabeth portrayals and @annabolinas who made 3 list’s discussing Anne’s which i would hugely recommend for those interested in their historical figures as both are obviously extremely well informed!

#10 ELIZABETH 1998

It genuinely cannot get worse than this. Mary is depicted as an old, religiously fanatic hag who lives in a dungeon with only a dwarf as her lady, while Elizabeth stays young and fresh throughout the entire film series. Would you believe me if I told you this movie was marketed as feminist? Sigh. This depiction of Mary has all the character depth of a classic Disney villain without any of the fun campiness. The movie also heavily leans into the Gloriana myth, which I can excuse in some older films, but in 1998/2007, while claiming to be progressive? It’s genuinely shameful.

#9 FIREBRAND 

Oh! We're still depicting Mary as stupid just to prop up Elizabeth in 2023? I’m sorry, but I just can’t with this movie. I watched it after being drawn in by the beautiful costumes (which are the best part of the film), but its depiction of Mary is absolutely awful. She’s weak-willed, easily manipulated, and gets by far the worst costumes of the bunch. Her relationship with Catherine Parr is practically nonexistent, and it feels like she only exists to contrast Elizabeth. There’s even a scene where Elizabeth lectures Mary and claims her own trauma is worse something the real Mary would never have tolerated from her little sister. It’s clear the people who made Firebrand are not Mary fans, which is fine, but it really ruined the movie for me.

#8 THE VIRGIN QUEEN (SHOW)

I mean, it’s fine—it covers most of the same ground as Elizabeth but allows Mary a lot more dignity than that movie (Which is really not saying much). Still, it’s not really worth watching for Mary fans. Joanne Whalley is a fairly good visual match for an older Mary if you can ignore the hair and the god-awful costumes… which, unfortunately, I cannot.

#7 ELIZABETH R 

Sorry, Elizabeth R fans—I do really like this show! But when it comes to its depiction of Mary, well she’s barely in it. :( For the little screentime she gets, she’s fine—a fairly basic portrayal, but nothing offensive. The actress definitely has the right look, and I do appreciate that her relationship with Elizabeth is shown as somewhat affectionate. I love this miniseries, but I really can’t recommend it to Mary fans since she plays such a minor role.

#6 MY LADY JANE

Does this one really count? Probably not—but I’m talking about it anyway. If you’re not aware, My Lady Jane is a historical fantasy Tudor show that has absolutely no interest in historical accuracy. That said, I have to admit it’s very funny.

Mary in the show is depicted as a gloriously campy villain who pegs Edward Seymour and wants to kill the lovebirds, Jane and Edward. I did say this wasn’t exactly trying to be  historically accurate! But what it is—is fun. And that’s why it ranks higher than the others. I’ll always appreciate something that fully commits to its insanity over something that pretends to be historical. Also… it said “strap Mary rights,” so I have to give it props for that.

#5 WOLF HALL

It pains me to place this so low because I feel like there’s a version of this show that could have ranked much higher—but, alas, that’s not the version I got.

This depiction of Mary is a real mixed bag. I can appreciate any portrayal that doesn’t villainize her, and I dearly hope they get the chance to play Mary again. Based on their interviews, they seem to have a real understanding of her as a historical figure. But I fear their performance is let down by the writing—something Wolf Hall certainly didn’t do. Also, the actor who plays her, Lilit Lesser, is phenomenal.

The issue is that Mary seems unable to exist without Cromwell. Like many of the women in this show, she is completely and utterly taken with him, which… is a choice. I wouldn’t be opposed to a depiction of Mary having a one-sided admiration for Cromwell—I could see that working with a different script—but unfortunately, that’s not what I got. I find the show’s take on their relationship deeply unsatisfying, and worse, it completely consumes Mary’s character.

She’s also depicted as rather quiet and withdrawn, which feels like an odd choice given what we know about the real Mary. On a more positive note, I loved the mention of Mary buying gifts for Elizabeth. It didn’t actually happen, but it’s a nice touch that highlights both Mary’s poor financial habits and her genuine affection for little Elizabeth. Also, the costuming in the second season is absolutely gorgeous.

I feel bad being so negative about this show because I do genuinely enjoy it, and Lilit is fantastic casting for Mary. But as a depiction of the historical figure? It’s just not successful.

#4 LADY JANE

I admit i may have placed this one slightly higher then it deserves but i have a mile wild soft spot for this movie despite it’s rather egregious historical inaccuracies (There’s little evidence that Jane even liked her husband, let alone that their relationship was some grand love story, and she certainly wasn’t a social reformer concerned with the plight of the poor) What can I say? I’m a sucker for cheesy enemies to lovers romances, and I’m not ashamed of it.

But that’s beside the point because we’re here to talk about their Mary! And she’s… actually sympathetic —gasp!— played fantastically by actress Jane Lapotaire in a movie that depicts Jane as our heroic lead it would be so easy to make Mary a mustache twirling (which they absolutely do with Francis Grey, who gets the full abusive, women-hating portrayal here) but Lady Jane takes a far more interesting approach, portraying Mary as a deeply complex figure. She doesn’t want to execute Jane and instead shows genuine sympathy for the young girl in front of her. She acknowledges Jane’s youth, treats her with a strict yet maternal air, but is still allowed moments of humour and softness.

The film makes it clear that Mary does everything in her power not to have Jane executed, and her insistence that Jane convert is framed as a desperate last resort rather than an act of cruelty. I wouldn’t necessarily recommend watching the movie just for Mary as she is in very little of it but, but her portrayal is definitely a highlight and one of the reasons I enjoy the film as much as I do!

#3 THE TUDORS

For a long time, The Tudors’ Mary was the gold standard against which every other depiction of her was judged. But does it still hold up? …Well, mostly.

Sarah Bolger feels like she was possessed by the spirit of young Mary in some scenes. Despite her lack of physical resemblance to the real Mary, she fully inhabits her essence—from the way she speaks to the way she moves.

That said, I do find the writing, especially in the later seasons, leaves me wanting. It feels like the writers realized they wouldn’t be able to depict Mary’s most well-known period, so they tried to cram elements of it earlier into her life. As a result, she seemingly decides to burn Protestants with little political motive an absolutely inaccurate portrayal. That misstep is what ultimately pulls down an otherwise fantastic depiction from the top two.

#2 MOTHERS DAUGHTER

Now, I can hear you all saying… what? Mother’s Daughter is a play written by Kate Hennig that focuses on Mary’s life and queenship. It specifically highlights her relationships with Elizabeth, Jane Grey, and the ghost of her mother. I adore how this play characterizes Mary—not as an evil tyrant, but as a deeply human figure, which is a luxury she’s seldom afforded, especially once she becomes queen.

Set after the death of Edward, it transforms Mary into a deeply tragic character. She’s forced to make difficult choices and question the motives of those around her, including her own family, all while facing xenophobia and religious nationalism. Shannon Taylor’s portrayal of Mary captures her evolution from a hesitant claimant to a resolute monarch. Taylor’s Mary is allowed to be funny and witty, while also reaching almost Shakespearean levels of tragedy. The depiction is both complex and effortlessly engaging.

In my opinion, Mother’s Daughter offers a deeply nuanced exploration of power, family, and identity. It highlights the struggle of a queen striving to reconcile her sense of duty with her personal convictions. I’m being a bit vague in my description because I really want you to read or watch this play—it’s beautiful, heart-wrenching, and fantastic. I highly recommend it to any Mary fans out there!

#1 BECOMING ELIZABETH

And, shockingly to no one, my number one spot goes to Becoming Elizabeth. What can I say about this show that hasn’t been said by every single Mary fan on the planet? Romola Garai is breathtaking in her role as Mary and absolutely blows every other member of the cast out of the water.

If you haven’t watched it, Becoming Elizabeth focuses on the period following Henry’s death and throughout Edward’s reign, highlighting Elizabeth’s development and her relationships, especially with Thomas Seymour (though they don’t handle that particular relationship well, so heads up if you’re planning to watch).

Garai’s performance is a standout. She captures Mary as a woman hardened by years of uncertainty and betrayal, while still remaining witty, funny, and headstrong. She’s fiercely Catholic and unwavering in her beliefs, but the show avoids turning her into a one-dimensional zealot. Instead, Becoming Elizabeth presents her faith as both a source of strength and a cause of isolation, especially in the Protestant-dominated court of Edward VI. If you want a clip that really highlights how good this depiction of Mary is, I’d recommend the scene where Edward asks her to convert. It’s heartbreaking and just so well acted.

When I think of Mary, I picture Garai’s performance. She, more than anyone else, truly captures Mary’s essence—her tragically complex relationship with her siblings. Mary is both deeply protective of them, but there’s such an obvious lack of trust between them. Despite my issues with the show as a whole, their portrayal of Mary is, without a doubt, the best and most accurate depiction of her in my mind.

[scarabsinthestardust]

Better in the Morning // Ch. 15.1

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER WARNINGS: mentions of hospitalizations; injuries including but not limited to a broken leg, head trauma; medications; headaches; nosebleeds; nightmares; slight mentions of suicide/overdose; arguments; angst (but I promise there's some fluff, just bear with me!) Again, I am not a medical professional and have no formal medical training.

word count: 2600+

DANIEL'S POV

Sam stayed in the hospital for another week and a half after he woke up. He was out of the woods, but they wanted to monitor him in case there were any lasting effects of his head trauma. No matter how many times we were reassured that he would be okay, I couldn’t rid myself of the fear that I had when I thought I might lose him.

Our fight was still fresh in my mind, and I’d beat myself up over it and all the things I said to him for a long time. I don’t know if he remembered any of it, though. Granted, we didn’t have any time alone while surrounded by the Kiszka family at the hospital. But he didn’t seem angry at me. Not once did he show any signs of resentment towards me. That almost made me feel worse. He should’ve been angry. He should’ve been blaming me. But he held my hand and shared soft smiles with me, and it gave me some hope that everything would be alright.

He was finally discharged from the hospital and was more than ready to be out of there. His parents and sister had gotten a hotel to be close by, but made a point to not crowd him. I assumed Josh or Jake would want to stay with him, but when he asked me to, my heart swelled. He still wanted me there.

Sam was trying so hard to feel normal again, but it seemed like an uphill battle. He was frustrated about the difficulty he had moving around, wanting so badly to do things on his own and hating to ask for the help he desperately needed. I didn’t mind, of course. I wanted to take care of him, for as long as he’d let me.

He was struggling with brain fog and drowsiness, but he’d been assured that was normal during his recovery. He slept a lot and wasn’t eating as much as I would’ve liked; he was constantly nauseous as a result of the cocktail of meds he was on. He was resistant to the pills, refusing to take them until he couldn’t bear the physical pain anymore. I always offered them on the allowed schedule, though, just in case. The headaches were the worst. They were often accompanied by nosebleeds, and the pain he felt was so excruciating he could do nothing but lay down and cry. And I could do nothing but lay there and hold him.

He'd have nightmares about the accident sometimes. He’d wake up drenched in sweat and out of breath. At first, he never wanted to talk about them, but he eventually caved. He dreamt about what he remembered, which wasn’t much – the oncoming headlights, the smell of gasoline, and the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach when he thought he might not make it out alive. I didn’t tell him I was having nightmares, too.

I couldn’t bring myself to ask, but I didn’t think he remembered calling me. On some nights after Sam was asleep, I’d listen to the voicemail again. I don’t know why I insisted on doing it to myself, but I couldn’t stop, much less make myself delete it. The message is fuzzy, broken apart by static and peppered with the pinging of whichever of the car’s warning notifications were going off. Some kind of hissing can be heard, like the sound of a busted hose, intermingled with Sam’s heavy breaths. His voice follows, cracked and fearful. He coughs in between words, and it’s clear that it’s getting harder and harder to breathe.

Hey, Danny boy. I think… I messed up a little… I don’t know what’s… gonna happen. So just know… I’m not mad anymore. I’m scared, Daniel, I’m really scared. I wish I was home with you, sn- snuggled up watching some dumb movie. I love you. I love you. I love you so fucking much, since forever, for always. I love you. Don’t forget about me. Take care of Rose, take care of everyone. Promise…

I think he lost consciousness then. His voice trailed off and all I could hear was static and the incessant dinging. Hearing his voice like that, imagining how terrified he must have been, made my heart feel like it was being ripped into a thousand little pieces. It made me want to vomit. But still, I couldn’t stop listening to it.

He sat on the floor of the living room, leaned against the front of the couch. It was a mystery to me why he kept doing it, as getting back up with a broken leg and a sprained hand was difficult to say the least. But no matter how comfortable I tried to make the couch for him, he always ended up moving himself down to the floor. “Don’t like the altitude,” he joked.

I tried to remind him when he asked me to hand him a guitar that his hand needed time to heal. He would have none of it. But when he tried to play, everything started barreling downhill again. First, he couldn’t get comfortable, and the joints in his hand complained with every movement. Next came the fumbling when switching strings or frets, and the frequent dead notes that reached my ears. He cursed and muttered under his breath but refused to stop trying. He swapped the acoustic for his seafoam bass; maybe he thought it’d be more reliable. He started strumming the first few notes of ‘Caravel,’ then abruptly stopped. He furrowed his brows and tried again with the same result. After a few more attempts, he squeezed his eyes shut and groaned loudly, bowing his head over the instrument, his messy hair hiding his face. “Fuck!”

“Sam? Is it your head? Maybe you should take a break-“

“I can’t remember,” he said, his voice cracking. He looked up at me, his eyes filling with tears. “I can’t remember how to play.”

Fuck. A million and one thoughts raced through my head. What would that mean for Sam? Would he have to relearn everything? Would he even try? And what would that mean for the band? I couldn’t imagine continuing it without him, and I knew his brothers wouldn’t just replace him. But even though it crossed my mind, Greta wasn’t my first priority. Greta Van Fleet didn’t matter without Sam in it. I worried that he wouldn’t be able to cope if he couldn’t play; he worked so hard to get as far as he did. He gave up college and astronomy to play music. If he couldn’t play… what happens next?

I tried to comfort him as he cried and as he hyperventilated through a panic attack. Rose nudged him, laying her head in his lap. I held him as close to me as I physically could and smoothed down his hair. “Sammy, baby, it’ll be okay. You’re still healing from a traumatic brain injury, and I’m sure all the meds are making you feel a little off. There’s probably a lot you won’t be able to do right away, but you’ll get there. You need time to heal, so focus on that for now, and let the music come after.”

“What if it doesn’t come?”

“Then we’ll figure it out. But it will, and you’ll be back to feeling like yourself again before you know it.”

He cried so much that night, which triggered another headache. After some convincing, he took a dose of pain pills. Right before he fell asleep, he mumbled something, so low that it was almost inaudible. But I heard him. “Will you still love me if I’m broken forever?”

My breath caught in my throat and my eyes filled to the brim with tears. I tightened my arms around him as much as I could without hurting him. “I’ll always love you, Sammy. No matter what. I promise.” He didn’t say anything else, and when I heard a light snore, I knew he was asleep.

~

Sam’s slow, clumsy movements as he tried to get up out of bed woke me up. “You okay?”

“Gotta pee.”

I started to sit up and rubbed my eyes. “Here, let me help-“

“No,” he cut me off. “I can do it on my own, I need to.” I could hear the plea in his voice to let him try. He needed to feel some semblance of independence where he could get it.

I nodded and laid back down, watching him closely for any sign he might fall as he grabbed the crutches and hoisted himself up. I relaxed when he made it to the bathroom okay, although I listened out in case he needed any help. I heard the toilet flush, but while waiting for him to finish up, I must have fallen back asleep. I don’t know how long I was out before I woke back up. The room was still dark, but Sam wasn’t in bed, and everything was quiet. I could see light seeping from under the bathroom door, and Rose lying in front of it. “Sammy, you okay?” My heart started pounding with anxiety when he didn’t answer. I slowly pushed the door open and called his name again. It felt like a punch in the gut when I saw him on the floor, eyes closed, leaned up against the bathtub.

I rushed to him, probably bruising my own knees as I hit the cold tile and placed my hands on his cheeks. “Sam? What happened? Are you hurt?”

His eyes fluttered open and he smiled. “I’m okay, Danny boy. Just tired.”

A sense of relief washed over me, and I adjusted myself to sit with him, just until he was ready to go back to bed. But the relief was quickly replaced with dread when my knee touched something on the ground. An empty pill bottle. I snatched it up, now noticing a second one. “Sam, what the fuck… please tell me you didn’t.” He was slow to respond; my blood ran cold, and my breathing quickened. “Sam?! Fuck!” Call 911. I scrambled off the floor and rushed back to the bedroom to find my phone. I grabbed it off the charger but fumbled and dropped it. Sam called my name as I finally had it back in my hand and was running back to him. My hands shook as I started to dial the numbers, and he called my name again.

“Daniel, it’s okay! I flushed ‘em.”

My movements halted and I stared at him for a moment, trying to register his words. “You… you didn’t take them?”

He shook his head. “I don’t wanna take ‘em anymore. They make my brain fuzzy and I don’t feel like me. So I flushed them.”

“Jesus, Sammy.” I scrubbed my hand over my face and lowered myself back to the floor. I willed my heart rate to even out. This was fixable; we could get refills for the pain meds. If he would even take them. I’m sure it seemed like a good idea to him in the moment, but he might regret it next time he got a severe migraine. I didn’t see the point in giving him shit about it at this point. It was already done and there wasn’t anything that could be done about it right now. “Do you want to go back to bed?”

“Not yet.” He leaned his head back carefully on the edge of the tub. “S’ cold. Feels nice.” We sat in silence for a while until he said, “I’m sorry.”

I thought he was apologizing for tonight, for making me think he overdosed. “It’s okay, you just scared me is all.”

“No. Well… that, too. But I meant for what happened before… before I left.”

It took me a second to realize what he was talking about, and I couldn’t hide my surprise when I did. “Oh. I didn’t know if you remembered that.” I kept my eyes trained on the ground as I thought about what I said to him that night, afraid of what I might find in his. If he remembered the fight, he might resent me for it.

“Are you still mad about it?”

“No,” I answered immediately.

“Would you be if all this shit didn’t happen?” He gestured to the cast on his leg. “It’s okay if you’re still mad at me. I deserve it.”

“No, you don’t, Sam. It was stupid and I acted like an asshole. I’m the one that overreacted-“

“Uh uh.” He lifted and shook his head. “I just wanted attention. And I was mad ‘cause I wanted it from you. I wasn’t flirting with that guy because I actually liked him or anything. I didn’t wanna hurt you, I just wanted to make you jealous.”

I stared at him in disbelief. I probably should have been pissed at his confession. Seeing him fawn over some tool at the bar and follow him around like a lovesick puppy had me livid. If all he wanted to do was make me jealous, it certainly worked. When I confronted him after the fact, it escalated into a full-blown screaming match. We both said so many awful things to each other that I know neither of us meant. But his honesty tonight was refreshing. So instead of being angry, I just laughed, earning a confused look from him.

“You know,” I started, “I love you, but you are such a fucking brat.”

It wasn’t long before he joined in, falling into a fit of giggles. “At least I’m your brat.”

Later on, once we were back in bed, snuggled up under the covers, he grabbed my hand that was wrapped around him and held it tightly to his chest. “Daniel?”

“Hm?” I fought to stay awake, tiredness threatening to take me under.

“I wanna tell them about us.”

I opened my eyes and stared towards him in the dark. We’d kept our relationship a secret for so long, and I couldn’t even remember why. I’m sure we had our reasons, but it all seemed so stupid now. A part of me sort of liked having it to myself, like what we had was just for us and wasn’t anyone else’s business. But the other part of me wanted to take this super important piece of my life and share it with the people closest to us. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

“Really?” He sounded genuinely surprised, as if he expected me to say no.

“I don’t want to hide it anymore.”

“Okay, good.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “Do you think they’re really gonna be surprised?”

“Nah. If I had to guess, they probably already know and made bets against each other.”

“Hmph. Fuckers,” he snorted.

I chuckled, and I was so happy that he seemed to be getting back to his old self already.

~

It took three more days before he was willing to pick up an instrument again. He was anxious to even try, but with the right amount of encouragement from me and his brothers, he was back in the saddle. It wasn’t perfect, as he was still working on getting full range of motion in his hand back, but it was promising. After successfully hitting most of the notes in ‘Caravel’ and a few others, he was beaming.

“I told you it would come back to you.”

I was wrong to assume that the twins would have any inkling of my relationship with their younger brother. With eyes wide and jaws dropped, they bombarded us with questions. They were mostly baffled how we had managed to keep it a secret for so long, and right under their noses. I did notice that Kya didn’t seem shocked in the slightest; Sam would tell me later that Kya probably knew before we did. When the initial shock wore off, we received nothing but happy sentiments.

“If there’s anyone I trust to take care of my baby brother, it’s you,” Josh said as he hugged me tightly, and I was so grateful to be lucky enough to be a part of this family.

TAGLIST Let me know if you want to be added!

@hollyco @fleetingjake @musicislove3389

[thegirlking]

The reality of leaving a toxic family and why I’ll always sympathize with Bruno’s decision.

Just finished my third rewatch of Encanto (mostly because I hadn’t watched it with Bulgarian dub but anyway), and it reminded me once again why I relate to Bruno’s character so much.

Because I have very real, personal experience with distancing myself from a dysfunctional family and a toxic parent in particular, so his situation hits a little too close to home.

So, here’s a few thoughts on Bruno’s situation and why it actually mirrors plenty of real people’s experience (including mine).

Let’s get one thing out first: the movie itself does not really frame his decision as leaving a toxic family situation, but rather as a kind of sacrifice he had to do to protect Mirabel from the prophecy – but that’s a very surface reading of it. In reality, no child should need any “protection” from their literal family and there’s something very wrong with that family if that’s the case. The fact Bruno felt he couldn’t trust his own mother with the prophecy, the fact he was certain everyone will assume the worst of it and feared the consequences it could have for Mirabel, is a massive red flag that he was in some kind of toxic situation.

And no, I don’t mean that he was openly mistreated by anyone – let me elaborate.

Love, toxicity and more – are you “abused enough” to justify making such an extreme decision?

In general, there is still a lot of stigma about leaving your family – the intensity of that stigma greatly varies by culture, of course. But there’s a certain idea of what’s an acceptable situation that requires cutting contact, usually when we talk about pretty extreme cases of abuse (and even then some people can be unsympathetic about it).

When we talk about a purely dysfunctional family, rather than a flat out abusive one, things get a lot more complicated. You could very well feel you don’t have it “bad enough”. You might convince yourself that you are being too sensitive for being hurt, that you are being selfish for wanting to leave. They are your family and they love you after all. Right?

Unfortunately, love and toxic behavior are not something mutually exclusive. That’s something people in general still struggle to understand and it’s a very harmful misconception. It’s very common excuse people make for their behavior, especially in case of familial relationships, that they can’t possibly be toxic to someone if they love them. It’s also something that prevents people from recognizing that they are in a toxic situation.

In Bruno’s case, even though we don’t have a full detailed context and backstory about his life before leaving, I tend to assume he wasn’t viciously abused by his mother or flat out mistreated by anyone else. See, I’m not one of those people who demonize Alma or the Madrigal family in general – of course they aren’t some kind of monsters and they love each other despite everything, I’m sure they actually loved Bruno. But as I said, love can coexist with toxicity. 

Ultimately, my point is - the fact Bruno was loved and not flat out abused by his family also doesn’t mean the situation can’t be toxic and harmful to his mental health. There are very serious red flags (both within the actual movie canon and additional information from the creators) that his situation was indeed bad. It’s clear he had already been isolating himself from the family for a while, that things were like that for years and nothing ever improved. This kind of environment is definitely unhealthy enough to cause someone to walk away.

Leaving isn’t easy and it isn’t pretty – people are going to be hurt

Now, let’s address one common argument about why what Bruno did was wrong – he left suddenly without any explanation, without as much as a note, and that was a seriously hurtful thing to do, especially for his sisters.  

I don’t disagree with this sentiment at all. Of course, the way he handled things was far from ideal and the family is also allowed to be hurt by it. And still, I don’t exactly condemn him for it. What he did may not be the "right" way to handle things, but it’s very realistic.

Leaving a dysfunctional family isn’t some kind of a wholesome affair where they pat you on the back and throw you a farewell party. A lot of people will prefer to cut off contact over time without properly talking things out, usually because they fear the backlash, don’t want to see the hurt reactions, and don’t want to hear the harsh words that would inevitably be exchanged. Having a direct confrontation with a toxic family about cutting ties with them can become very rough and even escalate a toxic situation into something far worse.

Going back to Encanto - curiously, we have an actual proof that things could have gotten very ugly if Bruno tried to confront Alma before leaving – you know that cut scene from the early development of the movie? The one called “Chores”, where we get to hear about the tense exchange Alma had with Bruno (named Oscar back then) before he left and what they said to each other? Sure, this exchange is very far from canon, but it does show what could have potentially went down.

Furthermore – does the hurt you cause by leaving erase the hurt caused to you?

Continuing from my last point. The family was undoubtedly hurt by Bruno’s decision to leave. That would still have been the case even if he handled things better.

Of course, when there’s still love present in the family, despite the toxicity, the family is not going to want you gone and would be naturally hurt by such a decision.

That’s exactly why it’s so difficult to make the decision - because you don’t want to hurt those people you actually still love. That’s why when you actually make the decision you might feel enormous guilt and shame about it. You might feel selfish, cruel and ungrateful. You might begin to question your own reality and your whole past experience. And you can definitely see that guilt in Bruno too, especially during his reunion with the family in the end – his nervous body language and rush to apologize (without expecting the same in return) speaks volumes and is frankly a little sad to watch.

The family's hurt is valid and justified, I'm not denying it - that also doesn't mean Bruno was somehow the bad guy who selfishly and heartlessly abandoned them. And it certainly doean't mean the hurt he caused them erases his own hurt and trauma. While such extreme criticism of his actions is thankfully uncommon, I do see some discussions that go into such direction and it rubs me the wrong way, because it feeds into the stigma about walking away from your family and it's just insensitive and potentially hurtful to real people's experience and trauma.

So, in conclusion, here’s the very harsh truth. Sometimes you need to prioritize yourself and your own well-being. Life is not a Disney movie after all and sometimes toxic relationships can’t be properly repaired, not even with your own parents. And the fact you are going to hurt someone by leaving does not mean the hurt they caused you (intentionally or not) no longer matters.

[queer-peeps-film-reviews]

Immaculate (2024)

I just watched immaculate and I have some thoughts! First thing’s first: Sydney Sweeney KILLED IT. Her performance was really my favorite part of the entire movie (especially with that last scene, will get into spoilers later). And the soundtrack was absolutely stunning.

That being said, plot wise I feel like there were a lot of really cool ideas that were presented that I don’t think had the chance to be fully fleshed out so it overall just left me wanting another good hour just to have everything tied up nicely in a little bow! This is where the spoilers come in so you’ve been warned!

SPOILERS:

My biggest issue has to do with the plot itself. I loved how it was a play on Rosemary’s Baby and had a great pro-choice/the dangers of organized religion (mainly the Catholic Church) and how it demands authority over women’s bodies with using Sister Cecilia as the vessel for the genetically replicated Jesus. However I would have wanted to see more of their reasoning behind doing so. They mentioned how they wanted to use this baby to save the world and I mean, they’re literally bringing about the second coming of Christ, but I would have liked to see more personal motive for why! And how did they come about choosing Cecelia? The file she snuck mentioned her past and faith along with her chromosome analysis, but it wasn’t exactly clear what the criteria was.

And the failed attempts, it’s clear they used the other nuns in the sanctuary to try and have a successful baby born, but the attitudes and shock of the people around her point to her being the first to become pregnant which would contradict such. Also Sister Isabelle saying “it should have been me!” like are they aware of what the plan is? Or is it just the priest?

All that being said, I loved the ambiguity of the final scene. My interpretation is that the baby wasn’t a success after all and ended up being malformed like the previous attempts given how the cry sounded very sickly, however others speculate that it could have been a demonic presence instead (I don’t but it’s definitely an interesting theory!) and Cecilia’s decision to kill it was definitely the way to go with how the plot was going. Also who doesn't love a good gory scream queen moment?

Anyway, overall I give this movie a 3/5!

[greghatecrimes]

Once again I am yearning to write but have very little energy. Have a snippet of Chase's thoughts on him and Thirteen being like siblings from a few weeks back. Post After Hours, hopefully to be continued into a full one-shot.

He’s struck by how eerily this feels like a moment from another lifetime. A lifetime where his mother had never fallen down the bottle; a lifetime where his father might have stayed. Where he’d never been forced to grow up too fast and then felt the overwhelming need to run, abandoning his sister for the seminary, and then for the States. In another life, his sister would be sitting where Thirteen is, Princeton would be Melbourne, and they’d be sitting on his sofa after work, just like this; watching crappy movies with pizza and cheap wine and taking comfort in each other’s presence.  He thinks back to the last time he spoke to her, after he found out that their father died. Had he told her that he missed her? That he loved her? That he was proud of her for straightening out, living her life for something other than the numbing haze of alcohol and the bitter thrill of spite?  Chase glances at Thirteen on the couch beside him, legs pulled to her chest, chin resting on her knees. The dark circles under her eyes have only gotten more pronounced as they both approach thirty-six hours without any sleep, nearing the same shade of purple as the bruise he’d left on her neck. There’s still a twinge of guilt when he remembers what it had felt like to throw her to the ground after it became clear she wasn’t going to stop fighting, her blue eyes wide with shock and hurt and betrayal. But he’d done the right thing, hadn’t he? He’d just been looking out for her; he'd just wanted to stop her from doing something she couldn’t come back from. It’s what he would have wanted someone to do for his sister. Would Thirteen's brother have done the same?  Had she gotten to have one last conversation with him before she pushed the plunger, or had the Huntington’s stolen too much for him to say any more than those two words? (It’s time.) Did she know in those last moments that her brother would miss her? That he loved her? That he was proud of her?  Chase decides that she needs to know. She needs to hear it from someone, even if he's not the brother she needs him to be. “You know,” he says evenly, breaking the silence. “You remind me a lot of my sister.” That grabs her attention. She glances away from the TV to look at him curiously. “…You have a sister. That’s new.”  “We don’t… talk much. Not since she was small.” He admits. He just needs to tell her and be done with it. He’s starting to fumble his words. “But I was thinking and, you know… you remind me a lot of her. Too clever for your own good. Stubbornly brave. Compassionate.” He takes a breath and goes straight for the heart of it before he can lose his nerve.  “I’d be proud if she had grown up into someone like you.” Thirteen stares at him for a moment, processing. After a second of hesitation, she forces out a stunted, awkward laugh. “You… can’t actually mean that.” When Chase doesn’t refute, she furrows her brows and frowns at him in disbelief. “I have Huntington’s. I went to prison. I euthanized my brother.” She shakes her head at him. “...The only reason you’re able to say that is because you’re as fucked up as I am.”  “No,” Chase insists. “I really would be. You’re a good person, Remy. You’re a good doctor.” he swallows and finds that, for some reason, he can’t quite look her in the eye. “After everything today… sure, we fucked up, but we worked together and made it through. I’m proud of us.”  There’s a long pause, and Chase briefly wonders if he should have said anything at all. When he glances back up, Thirteen’s got her eyes trained on the TV, careful not to look at him.  “…Thanks,” she finally says, choked up. “…Thank you. I mean it.”  He moves a little closer to her and rests one arm along the back of the couch, just behind her shoulders. “I do, too.” he tells her. Thirteen heaves out a quiet sigh. She allows her head to fall softly against the side of Chase's shoulder, and for the first time all evening, lets the weight of exhaustion pull her eyes closed.

[joe9cool]

Collide-Justin Herbert-35

A/N : This is fanfiction, I do not know the Chargers or affiliate with anyone who knows the Chargers. You also don’t have my permission to post my stories anywhere else. Thank You

Things were going well.

Ever since that day where they left the hospital Sara was more receptive to Justin. She would come downstairs to help make him breakfast, they would talk about his therapy, and then they would go their separate ways. Once he was done with therapy he would run some errands that Sara asked,such as grocery shopping and other things. 

Some days he would come up and drop off lunch for her and her family, who would talk to him. If Willa was there she would glare at him from her corner which pissed him off, but as long as she wasn't saying anything. He kept asking Sara to tell him if she said anything bad to her, but she kept insisting that she had been quiet. He didn't believe that but didn't want to press the issue. He had also met Alyssa's husband Brent, who was the coolest person he'd met. They'd spent an hour talking about sports and they had a lot in common since he was a fellow professional athlete. It was also clear why Sara liked him so much.

A couple of times she got home from the hospital early, and they would watch a movie in the living room, on separate sides of the couch, which he hated. Sometimes they would talk and he absorbed everything she told him about the place she grew up in. Justin had never so blind in his entire life, there was still so much to discover about the amazing woman in front of him. He also noticed she was more receptive to his touches. She didn't pull away when he would grab her hand or pull her in for a hug.

He had been in touch with his team and whenever they would bring up Sara he would shut them down. "It's none of your business." He would tell them. He had to admit, it felt good being carefree. Sara was right, people were going to talk, no matter what.

He had just gotten back from therapy, when Sara came down the stairs smiling. He was confused. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, but aren't you supposed to be at the hospital?"

"I got home early, but I have some really good news." She was genuinely smiling for the first time in a while. He matched her face. "What's that?"

"They took my dad off the breathing tube." He let the words sink in before he spoke. "You mean he's breathing on his own?" She nodded, and without thinking, he grabbed her and skinned her around the foyer. "That's fantastic!" He set her down. "Are they assessing if there are any long term effects?"

He had been keeping Mitch updated and getting insight into the medical aspects of Mike's case. Justin supposed he could have googled it, but that usually went to the worst case scenario and he didn't want to think about that unless there was something to think about. He knew Sara had a meeting with her mom and sisters earlier in the week to discuss long term care options. (He wasn't stupid, it meant taking him off life support) Sara had come home that night in tears. Justin stayed up all night comforting her and they fell asleep in her bed. He woke up the next morning in a panic, thinking he overstepped his boundaries. But she didn't say anything, just carried on like normal.

It was killing him, he wanted clarification. She said she needed time, so that's what he was giving her. But one night they were strangers, other friends, then lovers the next.  He was on the phone with AnnSophie the night before explaining all of this when she told him.

"Now being her friend, imagine what she felt when you were acting like this."

It was another harsh wakeup call. All that time he made Sara feel unsure. He was experiencing that now, and he didn't like that one bit. He wanted to ask Sara, but he didn't want to upset her while she was dealing with family issues.

Hearing this news brought hope for him as well as doubt. Maybe they could move forward, maybe they couldn't. What if she decided she didn't need him and told him to take a hike?

He couldn't think about that now, right now his only priority was Sara. Ashley had been calling, expecting him back in Los Angeles to discuss contracts and the team wanted him back for proper assessment of his shoulder. He had been out here for two weeks, longer than the organization thought he'd be. He told them that it had been a family emergency (technically it wasn't a lie) but now that it was out and open in the papers that Justin was with Sara for her dad the team didn't count that as family.

All he said was that he would be back when he would be back. Worst case scenario he would just go back to California for a week, then come back. However he was worried that he would be greeted with a fuck you from his love.

"Justin!" He broke from his thoughts and looked down at Sara. "Yes love?"

He smiled at the feeling of her shuddering at him calling her the pet name. "He isn't one hundred percent out of the woods yet. They won't really know anything unless he wakes up. There is still a chance he won't." He set her down and grabbed her face. "Let's not focus on that okay?" She nodded, and he pressed a kiss to her head.

"I also wanted to ask you something." He waited. "I'm going to the local dive bar in the area. My friends will be there, catching up on their lives. It's a private place, everyone is super respectful. Would you like to come with me?" Sara braced herself for the no but Justin was already one step ahead of her. "I would love to."

"Really?" He nodded. "Just let me know what time so I can get ready."

"Umm it's not until 7. I figured we could order food, eat and then get ready. It will be casual with a few drinks." He nodded.

Sara got the takeout menus from a kitchen drawer and spread them out. "Since you've been amazing making me dinner and being a big help, I'll let you decide tonight." He chuckled. "Wow, I'm so honored." She jokingly narrowed her eyes at him. "You should be."

He laughed and looked through them. It was all options he shouldn't be eating. But he'd been doing good on his diet and workouts, and he didn't need the cast anymore, so it was a night to treat himself. "What about this pizza place?" He pointed to the menu with the stuffed slices on there. Sara's eyes lit up. "Oh my god I love this place! It's the closest to Chicago style pizza! Have you ever been to that city?"

Justin smiled. "No, I haven't heard it's beautiful though." Her smile was contagious. "When Brent was drafted there I would always try to tag along when she visited on winter and spring break. We haven't told mom, but I would go out and explore the city by myself. Oh it's so beautiful at night!"

Justin was shocked. "Sara! She let you do that! That's so dangerous." She rolled her eyes. "Chicago is not bad. You just got to know what areas to stay away from. It's no more dangerous than certain areas of Pittsburgh or Los Angeles

He raised his eyebrows. Was she insinuating something? "I would love to go with you."

"Oh the food is great. You got Portillos,Giordano, Mario's Italian Ice. When I was getting any acting gigs. I almost thought about transferring to UIC." She sighed. "Sometimes, I think about settling down over there. Live in a nice condo overlooking the skyline. Maybe once I retire from acting."

"I would think you want to settle here. This place is gorgeous." She smiled. "Oh I sleep here, my soul is at peace. But I would like to test our living in different areas, you know?"

It made him think, was this future with him? "So I've been dealing with contract talks."

"Yeah?" He sighed. "They want me on a six year deal."

"Well that's nice. It will give you stability, and Los Angeles is close to Oregon." She started to write down the order before she called. "Do you want an appetizer or something?"

Justin smiled. "I'll take a Cannoli." Sara smiled and he knew what she was thinking. She had teased him the night she brought home cannolis from a local bakery in the Irvine area after their win against the Cardinals. He would never admit it, but it became one of his favorite guilty pleasures, other than his mom's chocolate cake and ice cream. Once she placed their order for delivery Justin decided to bring up the contract again. "Well I was thinking about the future, and where we could end up."

She looked at him puzzled. "We?" He nodded and walked over to her. "Sara, you are a part of my future, you know that?"

There was a moment of silence before she responded. "Let's talk about this another time." and walked away, leaving him mad. He wanted to talk about this now, but he decided against it. He didn't want to make her mad and start an argument. So again he pushed it off.

—------------------------------------------------------------

Sara was ready to go out. She felt ready.

The last time she was out, it didn't end good. But now that there was hope about her dad, there was no guilt about a night out with her old drama crew. Before she got ready she was on the phone with Erika, filling her in on all that happened. However, there had been a moment in the phone call that had her puzzled.

"Why is Justin with you?" Sara had just finished updating Erika on the status of her father and how her family was handling it.

"Excuse me?"

"I saw the photos of you two leaving the hospital all cozy, and then Heidi tells me you said not to confirm or deny anything."

She had her best friend on speaker as she was applying her makeup in her bathroom. "Since when do you speak with Heidi?"

"That's not the point Sara, I can't believe you took him back that easily." There was a frenzy in Erika's voice. "Erika, I didn't take him back."

There was a pause. "What has he said to you?" 

"He wants me back, I kinda ripped into him about Taylor and all that."

Her friend sighed. "I don't know Sara, I think you shouldn't give him another chance. That's your problem, you're too weak." She was taken back

"Excuse me?" 

"You're weak. You're gonna let him walk all over you again, and I'm gonna have to pick up the pieces."

"I'm not asking you to pick up pieces. You're supposed to be my best friend, that's what we do. Lord knows I have done it for you a million times." Erika was silent, and Sara knew she made a good point. "Whatever, just don't believe what he says. He's lying."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"When he's not around you call me and I'll tell you everything. Look, I got to go." She hung up. Leaving Sara confused.

As she was putting the finishing touch ups on her hair it was all she was thinking about. What did she mean by that? Deciding to postpone her thoughts until the next day, she finished getting ready. She looked casual in a nice long summer dress and heeled sandals since Justin was so tall.

She met him downstairs and laughed when she saw him in a form fitting Nike shirt and shorts. He smiled. "This is all I have that is considered nice. All the clothes you bought me are at home."

"I'm surprised you kept them." He frowned. "I couldn't throw them out. It'd be a waste of money, and you bought them. Deep down I always knew I couldn't lose you."

She smiled, but it was sad. "Too bad it took you three months to realize that." Justin grabbed her hand "I know."

Before he could say anything else, she grabbed her purse and said she would meet him in the car.

—------------------------------------------------------------

It was a small bar, a little hole in the wall filled with regulars. All who knew Sara, or at least pretended they did.

Justin felt out of place as Sara introduced him to her group of friends. They were from the drama club of her high school. All of them were the stereotypical drama club, with some having different colored hair, and piercings in spots he didn't know you could get. Truth be told, this was a group he couldn't see himself hanging out with in high school.

But as he got to know the group of six more, he was more relaxed around a group of strangers than some people he worked with. Her friend Ben was a huge Steelers fan, and gave him friendly shit which Justin laughed at. Her friend Hannah was fascinated by Hollywood, and was considering  moving to Los Angeles.

"So Erika says hi." Sara said at one point. Justin didn't miss the way her friends negatively reacted. "I don't know why you hang out with her. Much less have her as your assistant."

"She's been my best friend since high school. You guys remember." One of the other guys, known as Ryder, snorted. "Yeah and there was a reason we cut her off."

Justin was curious. "What was the reason?"

Hannah rolled her eyes. "Erika was boy crazy. Tried to sleep with all the guys in our friend group, started major fights. Almost split us up. She screwed Sara over a lot too." Justin looked at Sara. "Really?"

"I don't like to talk about it. She dated a bully of mine. But we talked it out and that was a while ago." Now Justin may have been bad at romantic relationships, but friendships he knew that it was a code you shouldn't break. Plus he knew how she was, she wore her heart on her sleeve. The bullying that she faced plus with her family issues put her in the hospital and on antidepressants. This wasn't a write off for him. He grabbed her hand underneath the table and squeezed it. Sara leaned into him.

The group moved on to other topics. Justin found out that Sara was quite the opposite of his goody two shoes childhood. She snuck out to concerts, talked back to her teachers (Only when she felt an injustice) and even got into a fight. Justin's eyes widened at that one. "Wait, you got into a fight?"

Her friends laughed and she nodded proud of herself. Ben cut in. "I'm surprised you don't know about it. There were articles on interviews that the other girl, Monica gave to every publication framing herself as a victim. She bullied us all through high school till Junior year when Sara had enough, Monica 'accidentally' spilled her milk on her at breakfast." He looked at Sara who smiled.

"It was no accident, so when she walked away after making fun of my outfit I grabbed her hair and pulled her to the ground. Was worth the two day suspension." Justin laughed. He was embarrassed to admit that he was getting turned on at the thought of Sara getting mad and into a fight.

Once they had a few drinks the group split up. Justin and Sara were cozy in a booth in the corner. "Your friends are awesome." He kissed the top of her head and she hummed. "They are amazing."

"Why are you friends with Erika?" He had to ask. She looked up at him. "Because she's amazing. I know she did some shady shit in the past, but she dropped everything for me. She came to Los Angeles to work under me. We had a rocky start, but she's great now."

Justin was silent. He wanted to tell her about what happened when he ran Into Erika and what AnnSophie said. However, now wasn't the time. He and AnnSophie were going back and forth texting, and it was decided he would tell her when her dad got better.

They stayed like that in the booth, sorta rocking side by side with the music. Sara smiled as a song Justin didn't recognize came on and she began to sing

Isn't love so fragile and the heart so shallow Shatter with words, impossible to follow. You're saying I'm fragile, I try not to be I search only for something I can't see

I have my own life And I am stronger than you know

But I carry this feeling When you walked into my house That you won't be walking out the door.

"This song came on my phone when you left." He looked at her confused. So she explained. "After you left, the first night you came over. I was singing it, and I thought it was perfect."

"You really love Fleetwood Mac don't you?" Justin knew she did, but he didn't know how much. She nodded. "It was always me and my dad's thing growing up. When I took him to meet her I swear to God he told me how proud of me he was. First time he ever told me."

Justin shook his head. He hoped when her dad woke up that he would get a new chance to truly appreciate his youngest daughter. Sara adjusted her body to where she was looking directly at him. "I'm sorry." She stated. He was confused. "For what?"

"Looking through your phone, taking screenshots of messages with other girls."

She was ridiculous. He shook his head and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her to him. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I gave you every reason not to trust me." He grabbed her chin to force her to look at him and even then, he didn't speak until her brown eyes met his. "Sara, I have never had a thing with Taylor after we became exclusive. I should have told you everything. I thought I was handling the situation when really I wasn't be honest." He felt her hand rubbing up and down his side. "I love you Sara."

She hummed, and before he could say anything else, she kissed him. He wasn't expecting it at all. She wasn't drunk, she only had one drink so far, and was nursing the other one. Justin decided to relax into it. Letting off a soft moan that shot electricity straight below his belt. She broke the kiss after a few moments. He was sure both of their lips were swollen by now. Sara took a deep breath. "I think I need some water." She laughed and he joined her. "I would join you, but I uuh." She looked down and laughed as he referred to his erection. "I'll bring you back some more." While he wasn't wearing the cast he still had painkillers.

He watched as she got up and went to the bar area where her friends were at. He smiled and touched his lips, savoring the feel of her lips for the first time in a while.

The door of the bar opened, and a group of douchebags came in. Justin could tell by their attire and how they carried themselves. The blonde, who was tall, immediately made a beeline towards the bar and sat next to Sara.

Justin was on high alert as Sara tensed. She knew him, and it wasn't in a pleasant way.

—------------------------------------------------------------

"Miss me sare bear?" Ryder smirked, and Sara's stomach turned.

He was one of the bullies in high school that would torture her, push her into things. When the drama section won the state championship and she announced her plans to attend UCLA Ryder made a Facebook poll asking if she was hot enough to make it out in LA. It was mostly their shitty friend group that included Monica. "Yes, I thought of you when I was working with Sydney Sweeney." She was his celebrity crush.

He smirked. "Cute. But I wish you would get your tits out. I bet they still look just as good in high school as they do know. You got a better face and lost some weight."

She rolled her eyes. "How did you know I was here? You always made fun of this place."

He smirked and when her water came he took a sip of it. "I have my secrets. Also when do you just drink water? Pandemic slow you down sizzler sister?"

Grabbing the water for Justin she just glared at him before heading back to the table where Justin was also staring at him. "Who is he?"

"An asshole jock who used to bully me but now wants to sleep with me." She didn't miss how his face scowled when she mentioned that. "Asshole." He wrapped his arm around her. Sara immediately felt better being engulfed in his large arms. They sat there for a while, enjoying the atmosphere and just people watching. Finally Sara spoke. "I missed this. I missed you."

Justin hummed. "I missed you more. As much as I tried to deny it, I need you. There is no one else for me."

As much as she wanted to enjoy those sweet words it got Sara thinking. Being in a bar made her think about the video he was tagged in on instagram. Where he was dancing with someone else. Also about the photos of him with Taylor, all of those things she said to Sara when they ran into each other at SoFi.

She tried to push that out of her mind as Justin kissed her. "Wanna get out of here?" She nodded. "I can't party the way I used to." Justin laughed. "I've reached my social limit." Feeling brave, Sara looked at him. "Do you want to go home and maybe watch a movie in my room?" She traced her finger along his chest and he shuddered, knowing a movie mostly led to earth shattering sex. It got him excited, not just because of the sex but the fact it was another step in the right direction.

He got up and told her to wait while he grabbed the car. As soon as he left the building she felt someone slip in next to her. She didn't need to look to see who it was. "Leave me alone Ryder."

"I just wanna talk. Catch up." He smiled. "Is that your man?"

"What's it to you?" He shrugged. "I'm surprised. You guys don't make a good couple."

She rolled her eyes. "Good thing I don't care what you think."

He laughed. "Come on, you know your friends agree too. In fact everyone knows he dumped you because of fame. "

"Well we worked things out, thank you for your concern." What the hell was taking so long for him to get the car?

"Also Biscotti, the girl he was seeing. Is way hotter than you." That stung, Sara looked away, just confirming that he hit a sore spot Ryder smiled. "Let's face it Sarebear all you have to you is money and tits. Blondie is tall, skinny, and knows her sports. She's the American dream, Herbert will marry someone like her. Where you are just a good fuck. That's all you are, someone to fuck."

Her phone dinged, and she looked at it.

Justin: I'm outside

Ryder saw his message and smiled. "Let's face it, no matter how hard you try. You will never be good enough. Taylor will always look better on his arm. Plus imagine she will be around him all of the time. Dude is gonna see that he made the wrong choice in choosing you" She got up and walked towards the door. Tears in her eyes she heard him yell. "Tell Erika to call me!"

—-----------------------------------------------------------

"Are you okay?" Justin was Startled when she abruptly got into the car and slammed the door shut, rattling the whole vehicle.

"Good, why do you ask?" She switched to innocent in the span of seconds. Justin knew better and saw past her acting. "Hun, you were happy when I left to get the car a few minutes ago. Sorry that it took so long, I had a call with my agent."

She looked straight ahead. What agent calls at 11pm? Justin stared at her. "Are you sure-"

"Yes I am fine, let's just get back to my house." He didn't miss the word change. Instead of arguing he put the car in drive and drove off. The whole ride, he tried to make conversation, but Sara was engrossed in her phone. The mood changed from the bar just a few minutes prior. "What's wrong?"

She looked up briefly. "It's my sisters updating me on my dad."

He frowned, keeping his eyes on the road and following the GPS. "We can stop at your mom's house, or the hospital if you like."

She shook her head. "No, I'm fine." The rest of the ride was silent. Once he parked the car in her driveway he looked over at her and was about to ask what was wrong, but she jumped out and was in the house in a flash. Cursing, he tried to get to her but she was already in her room with the door closed by the time he got in the house. He knocked. "Hey, did you still want to watch a movie? We could put it on in the living room." He didn't even care where it was, he just wanted to be close to her.

After a minute she replied through the door. "No I'm fine, I have a headache, that one drink really got to me. I'll see you in the morning."

Justin couldn't give up. "Sara, please talk to me. What's going on?"

The shower was turned on, and Justin knew he was going to be shut out. That was okay, they made progress. He would give her some space. In the morning he would talk to her.

—----------------------------------------------------------‐—----

Unfortunately when his alarm woke him up at 6am she was already gone.

Fuck. How the hell did she get up and get ready without waking him? He was a light sleeper, so he was sure she would wake him up. Sighing, he got ready to go to therapy. He was still getting calls from Ashley and Tom urging him to come back to Los Angeles for assessment. The Spanos family wasn't too happy that their star Quarterback was seeking treatment outside of the organization, especially since the team grades came out with a poor review of their trainers.

He kept putting it off. He didn't want to go back. He and Sara were seemingly making progress, even though right now it seemed like they took a few steps back.

After Justin got out of Therapy, he decided to head to the grocery store. It was only 11am so he figured she was at the hospital. As much as he wanted to go up there, Sara had told them it was high security because of her status. It was decided after fans and paps were outside the hospital that they needed to put more protective measures in place.

When he was at the grocery store he was getting more stares. Now people knew who he was and who he was involved with. He wore his mask, but his height easily gave him away. Justin knew people were recording him and looking at what was in his cart. He grabbed what he thought was a good dinner choice and quickly went through the checkout. The cashier was a middle aged man.

"You know I'm a huge Steelers fan, so I should be charging you extra tax." He was smiling so Justin knew he was teasing. He laughed. The guy continued. "You are a good player. Got a bright future in the league. Maybe you'll come over here since you got ties?" He knew the guy meant Sara

Justin smiled. He didn't want to say too much about his personal life. He also didn't want this guy going to a reporter and giving him "inside scoop" "Naw I'm used to Los Angeles."

Once the transaction was over and the man went to hand Justin his receipt he spoke again. This time it was low so know one else would hear. "Listen, we may not know Sara here personally. But she has done a lot for the city of Pittsburgh. Does a lot for the poverty here. Started a fund to pay for the struggling for food. We all love her and are very protective of her."

Justin nodded. He knew Sara did a lot of charity work and she didn't really like to talk about it. "It's not a good deed if you brag about it." She told him.

Once he got home and put all of the groceries away he decided to call his family. He'd been preoccupied the past few weeks since he left and hadn't kept his family updated.

He called his mom. "Justin! We saw the photos! Are you guys back together? People are asking and I don't know what to say. When are you coming home?"

Justin laughed. "Mom, slow down. I'm just helping her through this time. I mean," he didn't know how to explain this to his mom. "I'm still working on it.

"Oh. You two looked pretty cozy at some place last night?"

"What?"

"It's all over social media. You guys look so cute!" Justin would have to deal with that later. After explaining to his mom the situation at hand, he hung up. While he went to the garage to grab some extra cleaning supplies he saw Sara's car there. Weird, since she was gone. Her bedroom was empty.

Justin sighed. Deciding to shoot her a text

Are you at the hospital?

After a minute

Yes.

Let me pick you up in a few hours. It's important.

Okay.

Well it was a start. He sat down on the couch and began looking at videos of exercises his trainers wanted him to go over.

As he looked through the videos, a suggested popped up out of the corner of his side

Watch Sara Wozniak's Savage×Fenty debut!

Curious, he clicked on it. It was a compilation of clips from her sets. She looked gorgeous. He saw her in Chargers lingerie and he was turned on.

The comments were disgusting. Assholes described what they would do to her and he wanted to comment back the threats he had in his mind.

There was one comment that stood out

Too bad Herbert stood her up. My sister worked the show and said she was a mess when her man didn't show. Was said to believe he was coming.

His heart broke..

He needed to fix this.

A/N: Bit of a filler, but Happy 25th Birthday King!

[foggyfanfic]

Love and Fury

Chapter Preview: Bruno sighed, the day had just begun and he was already tired of all this, “Why did you lie to me?”

“Honestly?”

“Meh, you know, if you think you can manage that,” he frowned at her.

Pre-Movie AU

Ch1 Prev Next Master List

Chapter 14 Round One

Tuesday morning, Bruno waited until the market had been open for an hour before he walked down to Reina’s stall. Cicero was leaning a hip on the stall and Bruno took a moment to observe the scene before making his grand entrance.

Cicero was taking up a lot of space, but managed to look very casual while doing so. His hip was on the counter, his forearm was braced just above the opening, and his hand was gesturing in Reina’s personal space.

Reina, for her part, was playing demure. He said something and she smiled into her lap, then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear when she responded. 

Neither of their smiles reached their eyes.

Bruno snorted at them, it just goes to show, you can’t trust people who know how to be, well, people. Pepa couldn’t hide her anger to save her own life, most loving person you’ll ever meet; Julieta often forgot not to coddle and fret over strangers, never been a more caring person in all of history; Felix got overeager, Agustín tripped over the wind, even Osvald frequently said mean things without noticing, and not one of them would ever hurt a fly.

Well, Agustín would probably fall on a fly without meaning to, and Osvald would likely insult the fly’s mother without realizing, and come to think of it, Felix had once danced right into a snack table and knocked an entire bowl of punch onto Padré, so the fly should watch out if Felix was in a dancing mood. But none of them would ever intentionally hurt a fly.

Would Reina hurt a fly? Or just manipulate it?

He sighed and admitted to himself that he was just being petty. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t about him, he got that. He did. And he knew he could solve this issue with a single conversation.

But dios, talking to people? No thank you.

Cicero touched Reina’s hand and Bruno saw her shoulders tense, she bit her lip in what easily could have been confused for flirting. 

It suddenly clicked for Bruno. Reina was taking a risk, he didn’t know exactly what sort of risk, but a risk all the same.

Cicero could hurt her. He would hurt her, somehow, if he got his way.

He walked up behind Cicero and cleared his throat, Cicero glanced at him, did a double take and immediately removed himself from Reina’s space. Reina’s eyes landed on him, she looked surprised to see him.

With the weight of her gaze and his epiphany on his shoulders, he scowled at Cicero and hissed, “Haven’t you caused enough problems?”

“H-hey, listen hermano-.”

“I am not your hermano.”

Cicero paused, his eyes flicked over Bruno nervously, but his mouth twisted into a frustrated frown, “Fine, alright, listen Señor, I don’t want any trouble.”

Bruno snorted, “Right, right, soooo… what exactly did you think you would get by messing with Pepa?”

Cicero paled, he opened his mouth to say something, but couldn’t seem to find the words.

Bruno took a deep breath, his mother had asked that he play along with whatever con Reina was running, so he dropped his voice low enough that only Cicero would be able to hear as if he was trying to keep the conversation private, “You’re not going to do that to any more women, got it?”

Cicero nodded, but his jaw was stubbornly set, and his brow had darkened. He took a step back, then another, then he turned and walked away.

Bruno glared at his back.

“So,” Reina got his attention, “I’m guessing you spoke to Pepa?”

“Nope,” Bruno answered, he walked around the stall until he got to the opening in the back. He sat in his chair and gave Leche a greeting scratch behind the ears.

She stared at him, “Then what was that?”

“I don’t know exactly what Cicero did, but I know it’s bad.”

“You’re not wrong,” Leandra muttered.

“He hurt my sister,” Bruno said, then slightly louder as it sank in, “he hurt my sister.”

“Well, he tried to at least,” she shrugged.

“You warned her.”

“I did.”

He felt a rush of all those conflicting emotions, guilt and gratitude and embarrassment and frustration, like a punch to the gut. Bruno sighed, the day had just begun and he was already tired of all this, “Why did you lie to me?”

“Honestly?”

“Meh, you know, if you think you can manage that,” he frowned at her.

“I… I’m scared, Bruno,” she said, hanging her head a little, “I’m afraid of what Cicero is going to do to me when he eventually realizes I’m not interested in him, and I’m angry at him, and I’m angry at myself for not doing more to stop him, and I just wasn’t thinking of anything else. Well… I was thinking of something else, but it probably wasn’t what I should have been thinking of.”

“What?” he asked, voice gentle, despite all his doubts he couldn’t help but soften towards her after an admission like that.

“I’d never seen you so… confident before,” she answered, “the few times we’d run into each other you just kinda hung out in the background and let your sisters do the talking. But suddenly, when you’re standing up for your sisters, you stand straighter, talk freer. I knew you wouldn’t hurt me, and I guess I just wanted to see what you were like when you weren’t worrying about people hating you. Then you offered to protect- well, you threatened to come between me and Cicero, but either way, same result. Playing along with your expectations just seemed like a win-win.”

Bruno processed this information, not looking at her, but the ceiling of the stall, “Did it occur to you that I would have preferred to know the truth?”

Her shoulders jerked in an almost shrug, “I- No. I wanted to get to know you and be protected from Cicero, so I let you believe whatever you needed to, to make that happen. That was selfish of me, I’m sorry.”

There was a pause as Bruno turned that over and over in his mind. She had wanted to get to know him. She was partially motivated by her interest in him.

Somehow, the fact that her motivation hadn’t been completely impersonal made it a little less hurtful that she’d misled him. This wasn’t just about Pepa, Rosalie, and Cicero, it was also about Bruno and Reina.

“If it helps,” Reina interrupted his thoughts, “I hadn’t planned on keeping things going for as long as they did. When I went to ‘apologize’ to Pepa, the actual plan was to clear things up, make sure this was all one big misunderstanding before I went running my mouth. But when she found out Cicero is targeting me she uh, well, you were there.”

When Bruno turned from the stall to face her, she was staring at the top of his feet, rubbing the material of her dress between her fingers. Briefly, he wondered if she was being sincere, then decided he would have to let time tell.

He sighed, “I forgive you, but please, no more playing pretend.”

A small smile dawned across her face, and she held out a hand to shake his, “I promise, no more pretending. With you that is. I still have to pretend with Cicero because, y’know, what he’s doing is pretty bad.”

Bruno snorted, “So I’ve gathered.”

He debated pressing her for more clues, but abruptly decided he was tired of the whole Cicero debacle. He mentally shelved it and looked for another topic, something less dire.

She beat him to it, “Hey, I’ve been wondering, what’s the grossest thing you’ve ever seen in the future?”

“Porn,” Bruno answered without having to think about it, he grimaced at his own volume, blushed at the topic he’d chosen, and switched to whispering, “there’s this thing in the future called a television, it’s amazing, I-I mean it’ll probably bring about world peace. Definitely the best thing that will ever be invented. So! I was, I don’t know, sixteen I think, and I was trying to learn more about this television thing, right? A-and you know how they say ignorance is bliss? They were not kidding. I saw porn from the future, it’s terrible. Absolutely disgusting.”

“What’s so bad about it?” she whispered back.

“The people in it look weird,” Bruno answered, “a-apparently there’s something in the future called plastic surgery? I know, I was confused too. Anyways. The people in the porn just didn’t look-, I-I don’t know how to describe- they were just off. Too smooth in some places, some of their proportions… I-I don’t want to judge, maybe, I don’t know, maybe this plastic thing is some life saving medicine or something.”

“Is that it?”

“No, no, there was also the plot,” Bruno looked back and forth, checking to see if anyone was, for whatever reason, listening in, “it was about a guy and his step daughter, a-and his step daughter had gotten a bad grade on her test and didn’t want her mom to find out. So the stepfather made her- he-. Yeah. It was gross.”

Leandra wrinkled her nose, seeing where this was going, “That is really gross.”

“Sí,” he nodded, settling back into his chair. He hadn’t even noticed himself leaning closer and closer to her.

Experimental Baker approached and Reina chatted with him and updated him on how his special order of cheese was doing. Bruno was surprised when he was pulled into the conversation as well, Experimental Baker asking him if he wanted to help taste test. Bruno shyly accepted, and immediately received a sample of semi sweet bread.

“I think if I can manage to balance this with a mild cheese and a hint of something earthy, I might have a real winner on my hands,” Experimental Baker said.

Bruno hesitated, it sort of felt wrong to get involved once a prophecy had been given, “I-is it possible to make the crust a little more… crusty? I-I mean, the contrast between a soft, gooey inside and, and-.”

“Oh, I see what you mean,” Experimental Baker took a bite of one of his own samples and chewed it thoughtfully, “I might be able to give the crust a little hint of crunch. Nothing too thick. Maybe if I baked some cheese on top so the cheese itself was crispy… Gracias. That’s a good idea.”

“You’ll have to have Bruno try all your experiments,” Leandra said, gesturing at Bruno without looking away from the baker, “Apparently, he’s Julieta’s go to taste tester.”

“Oh, I-I don’t know about that,” Bruno hedged.

“I do, Julieta told me herself,” she handed Experimental Baker a few small wheels of cheese, “here, this wasn’t made with herbs, but it’s what I’m using as the base for your order. You can experiment with the crust this way. No, no, you don’t need to pay for these, although, if you have any more of those sample breads…”

“Gracias Señorita López, you are too kind,” Experimental Baker chuckled, handing over a few more pieces of bread, then he winked at Bruno, “You hold on to this one, she’s a keeper.”

“What?” Bruno asked, but his surprise was covered by the sound of Reina wishing the baker well. Bruno watched Experimental Baker leave the way he’d come, then turned to Reina, “W-was he implying…?”

“Yeah,” Leandra shrugged, then stilled, “Oh! Did you want me to correct him?”

“I- You don’t mind if people think… y’know, you and me?”

She just shrugged again, looking around at the various passerby, “People are going to assume what they want, if we get all uppity about it they’ll just take it as confirmation.”

“That’s-, fair point.” He was surprised to find that her answer disappointed him, if he thought about it, he’d sort of expected something flirtier.

Bruno glanced over at her and found her still playing with the fabric of her dress. Something about it bothered him but he couldn’t place what. He watched her fingers as they fiddled and fidgeted, a part of him wanted to reach out and still her hand with his own.

He dragged his eyes up to her face and found that she was frowning, deep in thought.

He drew a breath to ask her what she was thinking about, but when she realized he was looking at her, her face immediately went blank, even as her shoulders tensed.

He closed his mouth, then reopened it, “Is something wrong?”

Her eyes flicked over his face, a thought passing across her features too quickly for him to catch, “You mean other than the whole Cicero thing?”

“Well…” he paused, tongue poised to start the next word, because the Cicero thing was apparently very upsetting, so reasonably that could be what was upsetting her.

However, the Cicero thing was only new to him, she’d been dealing with it this whole time and he’d never seen Leandra act so… nervous.

“Sí, other than the Cicero thing,” Bruno eventually said.

She frowned, looking away from him, “No, I’m fine.”

Uh-oh. Bruno opened his mouth to press the issue, but then the old shoemaker passed by and Leandra flagged him down. She began making idle chit chat, then asked him if he had any recommendations for Colombian poets.

The shoemaker spent an hour and a half talking about the history of Colombian culture. When it looked like he was winding down, she put on a winning smile and asked him about his grandfather’s writing.

The shoemaker’s grandfather had been a part of an indigenous tribe, and had written about his love for his land and the pain of seeing it stolen. It was fine literature that all went unappreciated, of course.

The resulting rant lasted until lunch.

When the shoemaker finally left, Bruno was barely holding his eyes open, but Leandra still had that polite smile that didn’t quite ring true.

The second they were alone again, he opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong, but she talked over him, “So, write any new stories lately?”

He blinked, then frowned, “Reina.”

She didn’t say anything back. Usually, when he called her by her nickname in that tone of voice, she would call him by his.

Oh.

“Reina,” he said again, much softer this time, then wondered if he should maybe ask what her real name was so he could use that. Before he’d plucked up the courage to do so, she stood and walked over to her wagon to grab her lunch. Bruno gulped.

Ok, now that he thought about it, even if he had been right about her owing Pepa an apology, it still would have been a bit hasty of him to give up all hope of being friends with her over one little snag. And, if he really thought back to that argument, he realized that he may have been, in fact, an idiot.

He was just… not used to things going his way. He believed it was better not to get your hopes up.

“I’m sorry abou-.”

“Don’t,” she cut him off, softly shaking her head, “Do you trust me? Or are you going to cut me off the second our friendship hits a rough patch, again?”

He gulped and looked down at his hands. He couldn’t answer her, he wasn’t sure if he trusted her, and he definitely didn’t know what he would do if they had another argument. He’d never had friends he felt like he could argue with and they would still like him afterwards.

The longer his silence went on, the sadder she looked. Eventually she turned away from him, clearing her throat.

He grimaced, feeling helpless. He’d never had friends he thought would be sad to lose his friendship, either.

They sat in stiff silence for a while, when Leandra finally spoke again, her voice was thick with emotion, “M-maybe you should just go.”

“But…”

“I know, you promised your familia you’d protect me, but you don’t trust me, and I- well it’s not that I blame you, you have every right to feel whatever you’re feeling, but trust is kind of important when- for stuff like this.”

That was fair, he knew it was, but, “I don’t want to go.”

She didn’t respond, she just frowned down at her lunch, still wrapped in its handkerchief.

“I- ok so I don’t know what Cicero wants to do to you, b-but I know it’s bad, and-. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

She sighed, shrugged, and said, “Suit yourself.”

Leandra took a few deep breaths to get herself under control. He had every right to reject her, to not trust her, of course he did, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. She really liked him. The fact that this may have been avoided if she’d told him the truth earlier, or at least the parts that were hers to tell, made it all sting that much more.

Bruno wrung his fingers, her silence choking him. He wasn’t sure what to do, he felt like it was his turn to apologize, but he could understand how apologizing for assuming the worst of her when he still wasn’t ready to trust her might not feel as meaningful as her promise to be honest with him going forward.

They were at an impasse, he realized. He needed time to trust her again, she needed him to trust her before she felt comfortable with him.

She cleared her throat, “Anyways! How much of Sense and Sensibility have you gotten through? Are you enjoying it?”

Oh bless her heart, she was trying to keep things from feeling awkward. Unfortunately for her, Awkward was his natural state of being.

“It’s good,” Bruno’s voice came out a bit higher than he’d intended, he opened his mouth to elaborate but found that every opinion he’d ever had in his life was hiding somewhere beyond his reach, “it’s, it’s, got a lot of… words.”

She gave him a look that was pure sympathy, and bluntly stated, “This is exactly why I didn’t want to have this conversation right now.”

He chuckled nervously, his face twisting into a grimace.

“You need time to process, that’s fine,” she took out the pin holding the handkerchief closed, “take all the time you need.”

He grimaced again. It would take a lot more than time for Bruno to figure out how to operate in this situation. There was so much going on that he wasn’t used to dealing with.

First of all, there was whatever the deal with Cicero was, he had no idea what was going on there, but luckily knew what everybody expected him to do about it. Second, he was attracted to Reina, worried she saw him as a pushover, and had apparently dissuaded her from flirting with him, which was a mess. Third, he and Reina were maybe sort of friends, except he didn’t trust her and she was worried that he was going to cut and run at the first sign of trouble, and it’s not like he could tell her she was wrong. He honestly expected this whole thing to blow up in his face, and he’d rather mitigate the damage, if he could.

So yeah, Bruno didn’t know what to do. 

Did he act like nothing was wrong? Did he try to prove to her that he wasn’t a coward? Did he apologize even though he was pretty sure she wasn’t angry, just cautious?

He decided he would follow her lead, try to keep things casual. The easiest way to make things less uncomfortable was to work on the whole trust issue, and the easiest way to do that was get to know her some more, right?

Yeah… made sense.

Ok Bruno, he thought to himself, you can do this. It’s just a conversation, she doesn’t even need you to act like a normal person. Just say words.

“D-do you like… birds?”

Was it too late to leave?

“Yeah, birds are great, I think it would be cool to be one,” she answered easily enough, after only the slightest pause, “I think I’d want to be a hummingbird, what about you?”

Bruno, who hadn’t planned this far ahead, drew out a long “um” before finally saying, “Do bats count?”

“You just want the bat wings, don’t you?”

He nodded, shrugging a little, “I-I just want the bat wings.”

She laughed quietly, and he dared to look over at her. She was eating cooked chontaduro for lunch. The fruit was already salted and she was in the process of carefully drizzling honey over a slice. She took a bite while turning her head to watch a child run by and in doing so got a drop of honey on her collarbone.

He stared at it.

She turned back to her lunch and took another bite, before glancing at him.

Bruno averted his eyes as quickly as possible. He quietly cursed himself for not being born a eunuch. Did eunuchs experience attraction? He didn’t actually know. There must be some group of people out there that weren’t attracted to anyone and therefore never made an awkward situation ten times worse because a pretty girl got honey on her collarbone.

Bruno would like to be born as one of them.

“Did you bring a lunch?” she interrupted his thoughts. He made the mistake of looking over at her in time to see her lift her thumb to suck a bit of salt and honey off of it.

“Uhhhhh lunch?”

“Sí,” she reached for her little jar of honey and began prepping the next slice, “lunch.”

“Sí,” he said, then immediately remembered, “wait no. No. I did not- no lunch.”

He was going to use lunch as another excuse to walk away from her for a little bit so she could speak to Cicero. But he wasn’t about to let Cicero near Reina while she was absolutely covered in honey.

Leandra, who had a single drop of honey on her collarbone and nowhere else, debated whether or not she should offer him food. It hadn’t gone well last time.

“I’ll go get it,” he rushed to say, then flinched at his own volume, “l-later when- after- I’m not hungry right now.”

Bruno’s stomach growled. Loudly.

Leandra decided she wasn’t going to jump to conclusions. Maybe he didn’t like chontaduro. Or honey. He probably wasn’t purposefully avoiding accepting food from her because he “didn’t want anything from her”.

Probably.

She made a faint noise of acknowledgement and bit into her fruit. Her tongue darted out to lick the salt from her upper lip as a little bit of honey dripped into her palm. She finished the slice, sucked the honey off her hand and started prepping the next one. She still hadn’t noticed the little pearl of honey on her collarbone.

Bruno was riveted.

And he deeply, deeply, regretted telling her not to call him “guapo”.