#I TOO WOULD DIE FOR MARGOT ROBBIE

[paper-lilypie]

the narrator taking a swing at mattel for casting margot robbie as barbie and making her say she wasn’t pretty like so true bestie scream it LOUDER

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— WILD FLOWER

SUMMARY : dean gets hit by a spell when fighting a witch and assumes it was harmless or ineffective. he was wrong, but at least he wasn’t dead. he’s a woman now. 

PAIRING : fem!dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : sam winchester

WARNINGS/TAGS : nsfw(18+), smut, fingering, oral sex, fem!dean (idk, that’s not a warning), misgendering?

WORD COUNT : 5.5k

A/N : title from RM’s song. this was new but very interesting, and I don’t regret it. I imagined dean as a combination of margot robbie and elizabeth olsen?? yeah, idk lol, yall can picture whoever you want. (I hate my 18 year old writing, but here it is) XXX

Dean grunted as he let himself fall into the backseat of the Impala. Sam and Y/N looked at each other and Y/N sighed, shaking her head as she debated walking into the backseat with Dean or riding shotgun. 

“Dean, keys,” Sam reached his hand inside the car and Dean whined quietly, but started to search his jeans for the keys. Y/N watched Dean struggle with finding the keys, a loving smile growing on her face, and he held them out for Sam to take at last. “Sit with him, make sure he doesn’t die or something,” Sam joked to Y/N.

“Fuck you, man,” Dean grunted, moving slightly as Y/N slipped in the backseat with him snickering at him. Dean snuggled into Y/N, mumbling softly against her thigh as she played with his hair.

“You feeling okay, D?” 

He hummed softly and nodded. “‘M just sleepy.” 

She wanted to scold him for jumping in front of her when the witch cast her spell. He knew that she couldn’t be hurt, she had no idea why he would do that. Maybe it was just a habit, but it’s been a long time since he’d treated her like that, as if she were fragile and could easily die. 

She was worried, but he eventually fell asleep with his face pressed into her stomach, curled up on his side. He looked so adorable when he slept, a little smile tugged at her lips and she took the blanket they kept in the backseat and placed it over his body. 

“Think he’s gonna be okay?” Sam asked quietly as he drove, glancing at Y/N through the rearview mirror. He also looked concerned, his eyes wide and puppy-like, his teeth chewing at the inside of his cheek.

“S’long as I’m alive, he’ll always be okay,” she promised, caressing Dean’s cheek with her thumb. Sam let out a shaky breath, relaxing in his seat while his hands flexed on the steering wheel.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Sam murmured, focusing on the road. Y/N looked away from Dean and gazed at Sam with a little smile, her eyes soft. “I’m glad you’re always here and have our backs. I know it was your choice to come with us all those years ago, but.. you’ve stayed with Dean and me—even after everything. I know anyone else woulda run for the hills, but you actually love my brother in ways I’ve never seen anyone be loved. He deserves you and you deserve him, you two make each other so happy…” 

She blinked at Sam, confused by his sudden speech, she figured he must have been anxious at Dean’s current state. Still, his words had impact. It was no secret she was head over heels for Dean and it was no secret he was just as in love with her. It made her stomach clench delightfully, her face heating up as she imagined how easily everyone else can see the love they have for each other. 

She looked down at Dean, smiling wider at his peaceful face before quietly saying, “you don’t need to thank me, Sam.” 

“No, I know… I just… I’m glad you’re in our lives,” he told her bashfully, smiling at her through the rearview mirror. She looked up and smiled back at him, letting out a small laugh that made him relax immediately.

“I’m glad you’re both in my life too,” she said quietly. A peaceful silence descended within the Impala, the occasional little rock hitting the metal frame while Sam drove as smoothly as he could back to the motel they were staying at. 

Thankfully, the sun wouldn’t start rising for a few hours which meant they could catch a little sleep on their last night at the motel before heading off to the Bunker. More importantly, Dean would get some extra sleep—and Y/N was thrilled that he would be able to sleep fully until morning.

Dean whined and nuzzled into Y/N’s stomach when she tried moving him out of the Impala so he could sleep in a bed. He slapped her hand away and mumbled some nonsense into her tummy until Sam returned to check on them and roughly slapped his brother’s shoulder.

“Ow,” Dean flinched, slowly getting up to rub his shoulder with a pout while Y/N and Sam laughed at how childish he sounded. “You’re both mean…” he muttered, pecking Y/N’s lips just because he could before sleepily stumbling out of the Impala, stretching and rubbing his eyes. Y/N took the opportunity to gently smack his ass as his jacket and shirt rode up his body. 

He smirked at her, pulling her into his arms to kiss her which made Sam groan in disgust, mostly playful. She giggled into the kiss, clutching Dean’s shirt as he held her face in his warm palms.

“Alright then,” Sam cleared his throat. When Dean held Y/N in place, his tongue lazily slipping past her lips as he tilted his head for a better angle, Sam scratched the back of his neck and rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna shower,” he said quickly, and made his escape. Dean chuckled, finally pulling away from his girlfriend.

“Will you make me sleep on the couch if I don’t wanna shower?” He gave her his best puppy-dog eyes, it made her smile adoringly at him. Dean could surprisingly pull that look off quite well and she had to resist rolling her eyes—mostly at herself for melting as soon as he looked at her that way. 

“Just sleep in clean clothes and brush your teeth,” she murmured, kissing him softly. He hummed quietly, nodding his head, accepting her proposition. 

“What if I sleep naked?” He wondered with a smirk, staring down at her. He bit his lip, raising his brows as he held her close to him. She laughed and rested her head on his chest, her ear pressed over his heart, listening to the cadence of his relaxing heartbeat.

“I would love that, but unfortunately, we share a room with your brother…” She moved away from him to close the door. He groaned in annoyance, holding her pinky with his. “I know,” she said dramatically, tugging him to the motel room, fully intertwining their fingers, “if only you could sleep naked next to me at all hours, every night.” 

He chuckled softly at the thought, spinning her around to face him with his arms around her waist. She gasped dramatically as he opened the door, but before he could kiss her, she put her finger to his lips, “better yet, what if you were naked at all hours, every day too?” He stumbled in with a laugh, kicking the door closed, and pressing her against the wall.

“Is that what you picture if we have our own home?” He murmured, kissing her passionately and sloppily dragging his lips down her neck. “Me, walking around naked so I can fuck you whenever I want?” He grabbed the back of her thighs and lifted her up so she could wrap her legs around him. 

“Dean…” she moaned, “we can’t…” 

He rutted against her slowly, her hands twisting in his shirts, as his warm breath fanned over her neck. He was already hard, it was driving her crazy to feel him against her clothed core, wetness pooling between her legs.

“Fuck,” he grunted, pressing his forehead against her shoulder, “I know.” He let her down gently and kissed her forehead. “Sorry,” he whispered, kissing her forehead again before he pulled away and started to strip.

“Don’t apologise for that,” she chuckled, stripping off her dirty clothes and putting on a clean pair of panties as he stood there, naked.

“I was apologising to your panties, mostly, and your pussy,” he bit his lip and nodded at her playfully, “because I bet they’re soaked, just ruined, and that you were expecting my dick inside you.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her and she chuckled, stealing a shirt from his duffel bag and grabbing some new boxers for him.

“I…” she laughed, shoving his boxers against his chest, “stop distracting me.” She walked past him as she put his shirt on and laughed when he pulled her into him again. His warm hands moved up her sides, lifting the shirt she wore as he pressed himself against her, his cock squeezed between their bodies. “I’m serious,” she chuckled, looking over at the bathroom door where the water was still running as Sam showered.

He sighed and let her go, dramatically putting his boxers on and standing there with his hands on his hips. “Better?” He asked, rolling his eyes playfully when she peeked at him from over her shoulder and then smiled at him.

“Not really, but I asked you to, so, I guess.” She smiled at him and pulled him closer to her. He moved with her smoothly, holding her close and plopping down on the bed with her in his lap. “Sammy's gonna come out soon,” she warned as he kissed her again and kneaded her ass, his hands warm and rough. 

“I know,” he whined, falling back on the bed, closing his eyes, his thumbs rubbing circles on her hip bones. “Don’t get mad, I don’t wanna brush my teeth, I’m still a little tired from the spell.” Her eyes softened and she leaned over him, kissing his hairline, dropping another kiss on his forehead.

“I’m never going to get mad at you, you know that, Dean.” She kissed his nose and then his lips before climbing off him and laying down with her head in the pillow. He turned to look at her tiredly, but managed to smile at her happily.

“I know, I just like being dramatic.” Instead of claiming his spot closest to the door, he settled between her legs, nudging them apart with his knees. 

“I love you so much, Dean,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around his neck, she brought him down to rest his head on her chest. He quickly relaxed, a soft sigh warming up her chest as he nuzzled between her breasts as comfortably as he could. 

“I love you, Y/N, so much,” he mumbled shyly against her chest. His face heated up, but he hoped it made her smile. Her fingers began combing through his hair, and matched with her steady heartbeat and her warmth, they lulled him until he fell back into unconsciousness again. 

When he woke up, it was already sunny outside. He knew Sam must have gone out for a run, and after that, to pick up some coffee and tea for Y/N. He sneaked his hand under his girlfriend’s shirt with his eyes closed. Dean felt her stir when his fingers gently brushed against her nipple, a shudder rippling through her that made him smirk.

He lowered his hand and tugged at her panties, hoping to rouse her. It made her moan softly in protest. When he went to kiss her, a curtain of honey-coloured locks scared the shit out of him and he nearly screamed at the top of his lungs, but settled for a quick, “oh, shit!” 

He stumbled off of Y/N and his wiggling on the bed woke her.

“Dean?” She rubbed her eyes and blinked at the naked woman on the bed who was looking down at herself in shock. It sobered Y/N and she scrambled far away from the unfamiliar woman. “Dean?! Is this some kind of joke?” Y/N got out of bed, her eyes trailing up and down the woman’s body.

“Y/N, it’s me! It’s Dean!” In his attempts to get up, his boxers fell from his slimmer, curvier body, and Y/N froze, staring at him in the eyes. Green eyes. Dean pulled the boxers up and held them at his waist. 

“What?” She asked quietly.

“It’s me. It’s Dean. I’m Dean,” he said more calmly, making his way to her on the bed, walking on his knees. “Im kinda freaking out, babe,” he admitted quietly. Y/N’s eyes flickered down to Dean’s breasts again and then Y/N started to laugh. “What? What’s so funny? Sweetheart, we need to find out what happened! What the fuck is going on?” He didn’t care that she was laughing, he still moved in for a hug which she easily gave to him, her arms wrapping around his, her, neck.

“I’m sorry, D,” she murmured, burying her face in his neck and smelling the same scent that always came from Dean. “I think it was the witch, honestly,” she mumbled, pulling away slightly to look him in the eyes, his green eyes and cute freckles that she always loved. 

“But she’s dead…” Dean whispered, sitting down, his long hair covering her chest. “S-shouldn’t I…? Then why is the spell still working?” He wondered exasperatedly, running his hand down his face. “I need some clothes. And-and we need to get to the Bunker, read up on this shit…” he started to ramble as he got off the bed, letting his boxers fall.

“We can call Rowena,” Y/N suggested, but Dean was too busy rifling through his duffle bag. “D, slow down, I’ll let you borrow some of my clothes.” She got off the bed and stopped Dean, who was still pretty tall. He instinctively leaned down to kiss her, his fingers tangling in her soft hair. She kissed him back, to his surprise, as if he were the same, as if it didn’t matter to her that he was a woman now. At least for however long he had to be one before they turned him back.

“I wanna wear that dress that drives me crazy when you wear it,” he murmured playfully against her lips. She laughed at Dean, pulling away completely to dig through her duffle bag for a pair of her underwear and a bra. “Babe, your boobs are bigger than mine,” he pouted, experimentally holding his breasts in his hand and rolling his nipples between his fingers. He gasped softly and Y/N’s face heated up as she watched him touch himself. “Shit, am I pissing myself?” He stopped touching himself to look between his legs and then relaxed when he realised what was happening. “Oh,” he said with wonder.

“Stop that,” Y/N chuckled, placing the bra back into her bag while Dean pulled Y/N’s underwear on. She then took out the dress Dean was talking about, wondering if he was serious or not. “Are you sure?” She asked, holding it up for him to inspect it—even though he’d seen it millions of times. He rubbed his thighs together and then looked up at her, his face flushed.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, getting up and taking it from her, letting him help putting it on. She bit her lip, realising that he was turned on right now. “Man, why am I so wet?” He whined as Y/N fixed the straps of the thin and soft dress. 

“I don’t know,” she murmured, fixing the dress on Dean’s body and grabbing the white, silky strap of cloth that went around the waist to make a neat bow at his waist. “Why do you think you’re wet?” She asked, tilting her head.

“Uh,” Dean looked down at himself, bit his lip as he blushed and then looked at her. “Probably because you still turn me on and I’m wearing your panties,” he told her, licking his lips, he stepped forward, watching her stand up straight as he came closer. “I mean, I know wearing panties always feels good to me, but it’s always different when I know they’re yours,” he confessed, looking down as he sneaked his hand under her shirt and into her panties. Both their breaths started to pick up and he moaned softly, finding her as soaked as he felt. 

Just then, the doorknob started to rattle and Dean grunted in annoyance. He moved his hand out from between her legs and licked his fingers clean of her slick before kissing her forehead and heading to the bathroom. Sam froze as he watched a woman—Dean—wad to the bathroom while Y/N stood there, flushed, before facing Sam.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked, closing the door behind him to place the cup holder on the table. 

“Uh, the witch made Dean a woman,” Y/N said bluntly, putting on some jeans to look a little more decent. 

“The.. What?” Sam blinked at Y/N, then seemed to have let the information sink as he sat down, abandoning the coffee cup he was drinking from when he came in. “Are you sure?” He asked, even though he knew Y/N knew what she was doing. She nodded and took the cup that had the tea string hanging out of the cup. “I’ll call Rowena as we make our way to the Bunker, it’s just a few hours away…” Sam stretched a little and froze when Dean came out of the bathroom, using a towel to clean his face.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean grumbled, hating the way Sam looked at him in shock. Dean took the last coffee on the cup holder and started to drink from it. “I know, I’m so hot like this, too,” he smirked up at his baby brother. Sam rolled his eyes, needing nothing more to know that it was, in fact, Dean as a woman. 

Y/N chuckled and made her way to the bathroom to get ready, letting Sam and Dean talk about whatever they needed to before stepping out. She got her stuff ready, found Sam perplexed, prepared, and Dean amused and curious, before they all headed out to the car to get to the Bunker.

Dean pouted as Rowena started to scan his body using a spell, Y/N stifled a laugh, which made Dean smile. As soon as Sam got in the Impala, he started to call Rowena and told her to be there to help Dean out. She was obviously there, faster than either of them cared to mention.

Rowena had also checked Dean out as soon as she saw him, which Dean liked, despite his sassy remark to her objectifying stare. He plopped down on the bed of the infirmary and let Rowena do her thing, Y/N was sitting nearby as Sam anxiously chewed on his fingernails. 

“Honestly, as long as I’m not gonna die…” he trailed off, “but please tell me you can turn me back.” Rowena sighed and smiled at Dean, her eyes mischievous and naughty as she patted Dean’s head like a dog.

“You’re not going to die,” she reassured him and Dean slapped her hand away, sitting up on the bed. “And the spell will run its course in a few days, like a fever,” she explained. Dean listened as he played with the hem of the dress he wore. “Tell me, what’s it like for you being a woman? Have you two already explored your new body?” She asked mischievously. Sam cleared his throat, expressing his discomfort. Rowena rolled her eyes at him, but smirked at Dean’s blush as he crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “I’m asking because I can change you back now… Unless..” she trailed off, looking between Y/N and Dean with a knowing look, “unless you two wanna experiment…” She added casually, shrugging and looking at her nails.

“Okay! I’m leaving now,” Sam said, not wanting to hear it or to embarrass Y/N and Dean for their choice. Sam decided he was going to leave the Bunker for a while and l text Dean that he’d be back in a week. Sam nodded to himself, getting some new clothes and his duffle bag, he wanted to give them some privacy. Maybe he could read all those books he wanted to read and stay in a motel for a while. Or he could call Eileen, yeah, he was gonna do that, spend some time with her and go on a date, too. 

“I’m not judging, I’m actually encouraging it,” Rowena said smugly, packing her things. Rowena didn’t need an answer, she had Dean figured out. He was confident and proud about his sex life; he was an experimenter, willing to try anything. Dean rolled his eyes at Rowena and got out of bed to stand next to Y/N. 

“Whatever, we’ll walk you out,” Dean grumbled, taking Y/N’s hand to help her off the chair as Rowena gave both of them a knowing look. Her dark eyes shone with amusement and flirtatiousness, which made Dean roll his eyes again as he took her other bag and walked out with Y/N. 

“I always knew you two were an interesting pair,” she laughed, “I mean, how do you get Y/N to try all these things? She seems too tame for things like these…” Dean smirked to himself, knowing Rowena couldn’t see his face; if only she knew how many times a lot of the freaky stuff they did were Y/N’s idea. He looked down at his girlfriend, his eyes full of affection and desire. She was so cute when she was flustered. 

Rowena gasped dramatically, her heels clicking as she hurried to stand next to them. “Don’t tell me, this child is the one who comes up with everything… I knew you were the most sheltered, Dean.” Rowena laughed, looking between both of them, and needing nothing, but their silence to confirm her statement. “Well, I’m just shocked… but very proud.” She squeezed Y/N’s shoulder, a genuine expression of pride and mischief shining in her grey-blue eyes. 

Y/N shook her head at the witch, allowing Dean to open the Bunker door for Rowena to make her exit. “Well, thanks for coming out to help, Rowena,” Y/N told her. Dean handed Rowena her bag and Rowena grinned at them.

“You’re welcome,” she kissed Y/N’s cheek formally and patted Dean’s shoulder, “have a fantastic week, lovebirds.” Rowena continued to tease as she walked out, leaving Dean and Y/N alone in the Bunker, both amused as they shut the door. 

“I’m gonna go look for Sam,” Dean said, looking down at his body, “and then I’m gonna shower.” He leaned over to kiss Y/N’s cheek, then kissed her lips, smiling adorably at her. 

“Just… go look for your brother,” Y/N chuckled shyly, walking past Dean just as his phone lit up on the war table. “Nevermind!” She shouted, taking Dean’s phone when she saw Sam’s name light up the screen above a message he sent. Dean raised a brow and walked over to her, looking over her shoulder to read whatever notification he got. 

SAMMY : I’m heading out with Eileen. I’m spending the whole week with her. You two have fun… No details, please.

Dean chuckled too, taking the phone when Y/N handed it to him. He typed out his response with a childish snicker and a grin. Y/N’s smile grew watching Dean look practically the same even as a woman.

Dean : Oh, you have plenty of time to finally sleep with her.. Unlike you, I’d like to hear the details… or Eileen will spill to Y/N and I’ll know anyway. Heh.

Dean proudly sent the message, his attention purely on his phone. He saw Sam had immediately read it and the text bubble appeared, so he stepped forward, leaning his hips against the table, nearly forgetting he was a woman. He quickly recovered and laughed at Sam’s response.

SAMMY : She wouldn’t… Stop that!

               Goodbye, Dean

Dean could already hear the annoyance from Sam through the text and he grinned to himself, looking to where Y/N was. A soft smile graced her pretty lips and Dean found himself smiling back immediately, and reaching out for her hand.

“Let’s shower together,” he said with a smile, his thumb brushing against her knuckles when she took his hand. She nodded at him, looking at Dean the same way she always had. It flustered him. 

While he walked with her to the bathroom, he couldn’t help squeeze her hand nervously—now that he was a woman. It was comforting that nothing had changed for her, that it didn’t matter what he looked like. If anything could display how she felt about him, this was the true testament of her love for him.

As much as he wanted to just get the shower over with, he couldn’t. He had no idea how to stop himself from being so horny, it was like starting all over again from puberty. He couldn’t focus on anything, but the desire for Y/N to touch him. He was so wet, everytime his thighs were too close, he could feel his panties sticking to his pussy, the cool feeling of wetness surprising him. 

He didn’t even realise he was already in the bathroom, until he felt Y/N tugging at the ends of the little bow she made around his waist to keep the dress snug against his curves. He focused on her, but the way it just seemed so natural to her that he was a woman now, it was confusing. Still, it was also nice, hoping that her love for him was just that pure and unconditional.

“I love you,” he mumbled. He felt shy saying that, but she looked up at him with her eyebrows raised slightly, pleasant surprise written all over her face, one side of her lips turning up just a little. She leaned forward and pecked his lips, repeating the same sentiment that made him feel warm, a flush that was different from the lust he’d been feeling all day. 

Dean started to take his dress off slowly, but Y/N stripped faster than he did, focused on the task of showering. She turned the shower on and waited patiently for Dean to get used to his lady parts and the difference in size of all his body. His arms were thinner and so were his legs, he was soft, but toned, and just slightly firm on his ass, he was squishy in all the places he liked Y/N to be. When he’d embarrassedly lowered his panties, Y/N watched, amused by the patch of wetness that drenched the crotch of the cotton. 

“Jesus, Dean,” she chuckled, stepping forward and curiously tugging Dean’s panties to get a clearer look at all the wetness. Dean blushed, now understanding why Y/N became so coy when he did or said things like that. He secretly liked it though, the way she pressed her fingers into the damp cotton and hummed as if it were nice against her fingertips. “You're so dirty,” she whispered, laughing softly. 

“I’m not used to this,” was all he managed to say. Y/N released his panties, letting them pool around his ankles. Dean swallowed, waiting in anticipation for Y/N to do something, anything really, just as long as he could get off. She’d mimicked what Dean did earlier to himself, her hands experimentally cupping Dean’s breast. Dean bit his lip, feeling his nipples tighten and tingle with the prospect of being touched.

Y/N was slow and curious in the way she handled him. Her thumbs gently circled around the nipple, observing them start to pucker up. The soft pads of her thumbs brushed against the little buds of his nipples and he found himself arching his chest the same way she did when he did that to her. 

It had the same effect on her as it had on him, and one of her arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him close so her warm mouth was latched onto his nipple. He moaned, feeling her fingers on his other breast, pinching and rolling his nipples, while she tongued the other expertly.

He felt his knees weaken and he steadied himself on the wall, a wave of wetness dampening his legs more. She released his waist, sucking his nipple into her mouth, her teeth pleasantly scraping the sensitive skin of his nipples. Her hand slid down his side, smoothly tracing the curve of his waist, down to his hips.

Her thumb brushed against his hipbone and it felt so damn good, Dean moaned again, squirming and hoping Y/N would show him mercy and put her fingers where she knew he wanted her to. Instead, she playfully tugged at his nipple and let it go with a pop, her warm breath billowing over the wetness and making shivers erupt on his skin. 

Dean felt his eyes roll back, felt so horny when she wrapped her arm around his waist again and repeated every little stroke of her tongue on his other nipple. This time, her free hand moved between his legs. Dean found himself spreading his legs when her palms sailed smoothly up the inside of his thigh, curving up to cup his pussy, her palm grinding against his swollen clit and her fingers pressing into his drenched entrance. 

He gasped, his fingers tangling in her hair, trying to pull her up so she would kiss him instead. She pulled away from his chest and let Dean kiss her, a surprised sound muffling against Dean’s lips. She didn’t stop palming his swollen clit, and Dean began to undulate his hips against her hand and she smirked. Even now, she loved making him desperate. 

“I need to cum,” he gasped against her mouth. Y/N nodded, circled Dean’s weeping entrance with two fingers and moved them up to his clit. She kissed Dean’s neck, licked his sweet skin and marked him as hers where she thought would look pretty against his skin. Dean’s heavy breaths and breathy moans caused a pool of arousal between her legs again. 

Y/N licked her lips, staring at Dean, and truly took him in. She took in the gorgeous curves of his body, his tiny waist and wide hips, the perfect roundness of his perky breasts, his nipples hard and shimmering with her saliva. He looked beautiful, ravenous, in the same way he’d make her feel when he had the body of a man. 

His hair was long and straight, a lighter brown colour. He was breathtaking, with strands curtaining above his chest and falling in front of his face, long tendrils of honey that nearly covered his green eyes. He looked at her breathlessly, wondering why she was so slowly, agonisingly massaging his clit. 

He hadn’t expected to see the same tenderness in her eyes that she’d usually gaze at him with, her eyes sparkling with wonder and love. Dean whined anyway, grasping her wrist to speed up and control the movements just when she began to trace the same freckles she’d seen on Dean’s other body with her eyes. 

She didn’t say anything, just snatched Dean’s wrist with her clean hand to keep him away as she easily slipped two fingers inside him. Dean gasped, not expecting the speed at which Y/N fingered him. Her fingertips easily found his g-spot, curled so deliciously against the sensitive ridges of his wall. His mouth fell open and he moaned her name loudly, feeling a coil begin to tighten in his tummy. 

He tugged at his nipples with both hands, squeezing his breasts and fucked himself against her quick fingers. Y/N stared up at him, captivated by every one of his hedonistic manoeuvres. Desire flourished between her legs and in her stomach at the sound of Dean’s wet cunt around her fingers. 

Y/N got down on her knees, her mouth sending warm breaths over his pelvis. Dean’s eyes snapped open to gaze down at Y/N with an intense hunger, wiggling his hips and abandoning one of his breasts to spread his folds with two fingers, encouraging her to put her mouth on his clit. 

She didn’t hesitate to flick his clit teasingly and he jolted, his head bumping against the wall. He moaned again, the feeling of her tongue’s perfect strokes drew him closer to his orgasm. The smoothness of movement aided by her saliva and Dean just didn’t care about holding back when he came, completely relaxing his muscles and letting it tear through him intensely.

Dean caught his breath against the wall, her fingers slowing down and stopping before her tongue did. Y/N sat back on her legs and licked her fingers clean while Dean watched her. Leaning forward for more, she lifted Dean’s thigh and pushed his legs open to lap up his clear cum and he moaned appreciatively.

“Come on, there’s still a lot more I have to show you.” She grinned at him mischievously, allowing Dean to relax and catch his breath. She stepped into the shower and stared at him for a moment.

“God,” he whispered and rolled his eyes, “it sucks that this is just temporary.” He entered the shower with her. 

“That’s enough time,” she reassured him with a grin. Dean gasped when Y/N manhandled him under the showerhead and used her fingers to clean him up, purposely brushing against his sensitive clit.

“I am so in love with you,” Dean breathed, pressing a loving kiss to her cheek. 

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[thewulf]

My Queen || Aragorn

Summary: Request - Can I pleeeease send you an idea where he finds a girl in the woods, hurt and not conscious but he feels the need to help her and be close to her. So he takes care of her wounds till she wakes up and it's like true love at first sight for both of them... Read Rest Here

A/N: OH WOW, this got out of hand QUICK but I had SO MUCH FUNNNN writing this way! It was a challenge but it felt invigorating to write. I am obsessed with Aragorn and I just love him. Margot Robbie is so right for her cinematic crush! Thank you for the request anon, hope you love it :)

Pairing: Aragorn x Reader

Word Count: 10,000 +

TW: Violence, orc violence, poison, death, blood, crying, angst, lotr warnings, Aragorn being hot af

Just a few more stumbling steps. You could do it. Glancing down you grimaced at the crimson coated and tattered dress that you’d been wearing for the last five or so days. It used to be so gorgeous, a gift from the man you were meant to wed. Truly it was the only exquisite gift you’d ever received in your entirety. However now it looked as if it’d seen a thousand lives, just like the elves had. It bore this resemblance due to the attack on your home. You ran. Running far away from everything you knew. It was tough to grasp just how much you’d been through in the five days since you had to flee your small village just outside of Eriador.

You’d had a good life. Good but rather simple. Almost too simple for your taste. You were engaged to be wed to the local jewelers son at your father’s doing. He had assured you over and over again that going through with the wedding would lead you to a life that he could not provide you. A life you were destined for. Your mother, Valar rest her soul, had been killed a few years prior in an attack on your village leaving you with your father and a small place to live. But it was home.

The local jeweler boy, Newall, had asked you to take a walk around the village right before the tragic events occurred. One moment you were giving him your kindest smile. The next he pushed you into the woods after hearing the screaming coming from the village center. Not making your most brilliant decision you decided to follow behind him only to come to the horrifying realization that your seemingly insignificant village was being brutalized by Orc’s. You stood there frozen in fear as you witnessed men, women and children being slain as if they meant nothing. 

It was only when you came face to face with one that you realized how much trouble you were in. Valar save you. He must’ve listened because the Orc simply look at you, growled and pushed you into the side of the house you were standing next to. But then it dawned on you that he wasn’t done. The creature walked to you terrifyingly slow, standing over you before driving it’s sword into your side. Before you could even yelp out in pain the orc vanished leaving you to die presumably. But it was a shallow wound. It didn’t seem like it was trying to do too much damage. Orcs knew one thing, killing. It was odd that one would have spared you.

When you finally came back to the reality of the situation you knew you had to go. Run to Bree. Your dad always instructed that’s where you needed to go. You had an uncle up there that could look after you. Deciding not to waste another second you rushed inside the house grabbing whatever clothing you could find. Tying a pair of Newall’s pants around your waste to hopefully stop the bleeding you only grabbed a little bit of food before you made for the forest. You’d have to find something along the way. The trek to Bree would take nearly a month on foot.

Using the stars as guidance you moved through the forest you knew very well. It started out fine. You were trained to do just this. Your father had made sure of it. What you hadn’t considered was the poison from the orc blade that was slowly taking its toll on your body. It was the fourth night that you realized you were in serious trouble. On the fifth day you decided you weren’t going to be able to go any further. No wonder the Orc didn’t just kill you there. He left you to suffer. What a vile creation. 

It didn’t take you long to decide on where you wanted to die. You found a nice tree under the shade of the leaved with a comfortable base. You were just going to go to sleep and hopefully never wake up. Hopefully the poison would just do what it wanted to and let you finally go. 

That did not happen though. You felt a light kick on your boot forcing your eyes to open. What you weren’t expecting was a rather handsome looking ranger with ice blue eyes to be staring right at you. Considering what to do.

“Miss,” He knelt down after whispering something to his horse, “Are you injured?” His surprisingly concerned eyes spotted the blood that coated your worn-down dress.

Taking a long breath, you mustered enough strength to answer the stranger, “Yea, Master Ranger.” You let your head lean back on the trunk of the tree relieving the strain it seemed to put on year mere consciousness.

“Forgive me, but you do not look it miss.” His head was level with yours as he moved closer to you. He didn’t dare touch you without your permission, but he wanted too, you were not all right like you so miserably tried to convince him.

A shallow breath escaped you, “I fear I have been stabbed by an Orc blade Ranger. I do not have much longer.” Your eyes flicked away from his in a pathetic attempt to rid him of the conversation. He would have no such thing though. Leave a fair maiden to perish on her own? Not on his accord.

“Strider.” He corrected you. It wasn’t often he’d give out his Ranger known name to strangers, but you seemed harmless enough. What could a human woman such as yourself have done to deserve such a fate he wondered before continuing on, “We are but a half days journey to a small town called Sarn Ford. Have you heard of it miss?” He asked in hopes of seeing your eyes open once more.

You did as he wished and looked at him again, “Sarn Ford? Oh dear. I’ve gone the wrong direction.” You grimaced in pain as you tried to sit up higher on the tree trunk.

“Where are traveling to miss? On your own?” He held out an open hand for you to take. He left the decision on if you’d accept the help up to you.

Eyeing his hand, you knew he was prying. But he seemed trustworthy. The Rangers of the North were meant to be. Strider as he called himself. Your eyes met his again and you caved right then and there. He looked genuine, like he thought he could actually help you. Like you were not too far gone. With all the strength you could muster in your quickly fading body you put your hand in his, “Aye. My village was attacked by orcs. Third time in the last five years. They got me this time.” You sighed trying your hardest to stay conscious, “I was meant to travel to Bree. But I must have taken to the wrong direction. I will be blaming the Orc poison for the misdirection.” You let out a pained laugh trying to lighten the tone of the conversation going on between the two of you.

“All right. Off we go. What is your name?” He asked you needing to know to continue.

He watched you intently sputter out the words you were trying to get out. His fear of orc poison was right, you truly did not have that much time left. With your permission he scooped you up in his arms, called his horse over and positioned you in front of him while he rode. He knew you did not have enough strength to hold on from behind. He knew It would be a challenge to keep you upright on the journey back to Sarn Ford. He was meeting Gandalf there, anyway, might as well help the woman who he had taken a fast liking towards. Even Strider could see the beauty in things, and you were mighty beautiful in his eyes. Even coated in layers of dirt and grime he knew you shined like a star above him.

“Y/N.” You admitted to the man not feeling up to lying to him. You would likely be dead before dawn anyway. You would have hoped he would find a way to let anybody surviving know of your unfortunate fate. But in reality you were just another causality of war. A human life cut far too short.

“Lovely name.” He smiled lowly as he held you into him. He could feel you were fading in and out of consciousness as he held onto your waist tightly.

You hummed in thanks not having the strength to reply to him.

“Hold on miss Y/N. We will be there soon.” He spoke into your ear startling you back onto the middle earth side of consciousness.

But as much as he tried you had succumbed to your own fate. Blackness took over before you reached the village of Sarn Ford.

Much to your own surprise your eyes opened once more. You peaked around seeing all sorts of supplies. You must have been in some sort of healers room you concluded quickly. Looking down you were not in your attire you had been found in but a simple dress that you were more accustomed too. Being so caught up in your own accord you had yet to see the two men. Well one man and one wizard standing off to the side conversing as you came back to reality.

“Welcome young one.” The wizard spoke. You had never seen one before. Thought they were the thing of legends. But sure, as it would be one stood before you. They were easy to spot. Had an aura about them.

Your eyes snapped back to Striders looking at him in surprise. He was more handsome than you remembered as the sun beat down on his features through the window in the hut you were in, “It is all right.” He nodded at you, “This is Gandalf the Grey, he is an old friend of mine.”

“Hello Gandalf.” You broke your eyes away from the stranger your somewhat knew and turned your head towards the wizard.

“How are you fairing?” He asked whilst leaning onto his cane.

“Fine now. Thank you.” You turned toward Strider who made his way closer, “Thank you Strider. For without you I fear I may have been dead by now.” A shiver of realization ripped down your spine as you admitted it out loud.

He bowed his head, “I am honored to have been of service miss Y/N.” You looked over to him giving him a bashful smile. He was really so handsome. More handsome than any of the boys or men in your small village.

“Are you well enough to travel?” Gandalf asked breaking the trance the two of you had been locked in for a moment too long to be just friendly glances. Gandalf was considered wise for a reason. He had an inkling feeling there was something budding between his usually broody friend and the pretty human girl he had found in the woods. Maybe you were his gift from Valar. Every great leader needed one. Who was Gandalf to question the gods.

“I believe so.” You sat you wincing only slightly as the wound in your side. Strider wanted nothing more than to push you back down and curse the wizard who suggested you move so soon.

“Miss Y/N. You need to rest a little longer.” He insisted placing a gentle hand on your shoulder preventing you from standing.

Gandalf grumbled, “You must get to the Prancing Pony Inn. I’m going to meet Frodo now. Time is of the essence Aragorn.”

Your eyes crumbled in confusion. Who was Aragorn?

He did not leave you time to question as he grabbed at your hand, “Come miss Y/N. We have a ride to take.”

You sat at the bar table with Strider who had hood of his robe covering his face. You grew more uneasy as the night wore on at the Prancing Pony. The horse ride was quick thankfully. And much to your delight the Hobbits Gandalf was speaking of finally appeared. Right on time.

Strider shot up from his seat, “Wait here miss Y/N. I must save the Hobbit.” He sighed before bounding off into the depths of the bar. You felt even more uneasy as the eyes around you made their way to your shaking frame. You were nervous.

After far too many moments alone he grabbed you by your arms, “Come Y/N. We must hide.” He directed you to another room than the ones you had planned on staying in.

“Strider?” You asked following him up a set of stairs you were unfamiliar with.

“Nazgul. I’ll explain later. For now, you must sleep. We have a long journey to Rivendell. Especially with the Hobbits.” He let a long breath while opening the door for you. Quickly, you were attacked by questions from the four little Hobbits. Happily, though you answered every single one before lying next to Strider who promised to keep watch.

“You should get some rest too.” You whispered hoping not to wake the sleeping Hobbits.

He nodded, “I shall. In due time. I fear we have something coming.”

Your frown was evident as he continued to try and comfort you, “Do not fret. I am keeping watch for a reason. We are safe.”

“I believe you Strider.” You yawned not being able to keep the tiredness away for much longer.

“Rest.” He commanded.

You were far too tired to argue that as the darkness crept in.

You were woken when the screeching next door commenced. The Hobbits must’ve had more sensitive ears as they were already up and staring at Strider who looked glum.

“What are they?” Frodo asked.

He sat at the window looking at the five of you, “They were once men. Great kings of men. The Sauron the Deceiver gave to them nine rings of power.” You felt a shiver ripple across your body. You’d heard the legends and did not believe those either. Yet again, another thing coming true right before your eyes.

“We must move.” He commented seeing the Nazgul retreating away from the inn.

You must have walked for miles until Strider had the five of you rest at the old watchtower of Amon Sul. You stood there behind the Hobbits staring up the decaying rock structure before you. It must have been grand in its time.

Once you were seated next to the Hobbits he stood and tossed each of you a weapon, “These are for you. Keep them close. I’m going to have a look around. Miss Y/N, will this blade be too large for you?” He handed you a smaller sword for you to try.

“I fear you have too much faith in me Strider.” You unsheathed the sword holding onto it carefully, “But this will work.” You nodded towards him.

“You shall not have to use it. In case only.” He pointed at each of you, “I will be back. Rest. Make no noise or sound.” His command was easy to follow. A natural born leader it seemed.

You woke when you heard Frodo yelling from beside you, “What are you doing?” He yelled a little too loud. You rose from the ground you had managed to sleep on and watched the interaction unfold. You cursed when you saw the fire going. He had not explicitly said no fires, but the intention was there.

“Put it out you fools!” Frodo cried. You rose from your slumber and haphazardly helped him put it out.

The horrifying cry you heard from the Nazgul the night before rang out from outside the watch tower.

“Oh no.” You spotted them coming towards you, “No Strider?” You turned to Frodo with a horrifying realization.

He shook his head, “Go! Up!” You followed the Hobbits to the top of the tower and waited. You shivered when you saw them come from the shadows. You heard nothing but your hammering heart in your chest. This was it. This could be the end. You sword was shaking in your hand.

“Back you devils!” Sam screamed trying to shield them off. You blocked a shot but was stopped when Frodo pulled the ring out. You gasped when they all ran from him. To your horror when he put the ring on he disappeared.

Strider came out of nowhere blocking back the Nazgul from all of you. You ran to Frodo in horror seeing the man defend the five of you with ease. A few of them went up in flames as kept fighting them off. They had enough when he got another went up and flames and ran off. Strider quickly came over to the five of you surrounding Frodo. You had your hand on his horrifyingly black wound. You’d never seen poison like that before.

“Help him Strider!” You cried in a shaky voice once he kneeled down next to you.

He picked the sword up shaking his head slowly, “He’s been stabbed by a Morgul blade.” The blade vanished in his hand as Frodo writhed beneath you, “This is beyond my skill to heal. He needs Elvish medicine.”

You looked down at the Hobbit in pain and let a single tear fall, “We will get you the help you need mister Frodo. Rest assured.” He picked the Hobbit up and began running, “Let us go.”

The four of you trailed Strider in a daze. The Nazgul screams seemed to ring out from every direction as you ran, “Hurry!” he shouted at the four of you with Frodo crying in his arms.

“We are six days from Rivendell! He will never make it!” Sam cried sending a shuddering realization through you.

You simply heard a faint whisper come from Strider ahead of you, “Hold on, Frodo.” From Strider who kept running and did not acknowledge Sam. As tired as you were you had to keep moving for Frodo’s sake. You ran and ran until you could no more and then you ran some more.

He only stopped when he ran into three petrified trolls. He set Frodo down looking around frantically. You and Sam went over to look after him. Same placed a gentle hand to the despondent Hobbit.

Sam shuddered at the touch, “Mr. Frodo! He’s going cold.”

“Is he going to die?” Pippen chimed in. You stood back looking over the shivering Hobbit who long since stopped crying out in pain.

Strider turned to the five of you with a concerned look crossing over his features, “He’s passing into the Shadow World. He’ll soon become a Wraith like them.” He stated so calmly. Your face grimaced at the horrifying realization. Frodo becoming a Nazgul?

Strider continued, “Sam, do you know the Athlelas plant?” You listened in but bent down to hold Frodo’s hand hoping some comfort would help the gasping Hobbit. His eyes were glazing over with something of a blue sheen that sent shivers down your body.

“Athelas?” Sam asked confused by the question.

“Kingsfoil.” Strider tried a different name.

Sam nodded, “Kingsfoil, aye, it’s a weed!”

“It may help the poisoning. Hurry!” He pushed the Hobbit off, “Miss Y/N. Stay with Frodo. We will be back with help.” You nodded holding onto his hand dearly.

Not a few moments later you saw the help arriving. A beautiful elf strode over and down to the quickly fading Hobbit. You took a step back as she took a step towards him. You gaped at the beauty that she was leaning down to your newfound friend. An elf in real life. She was beyond your wildest imagination. You had been told of their beauty, but this was bordering on ethereal.

“I am Arwen. I have come to help you.” She whispered into his ear, “Hear my voice. Come back to the light.” She grabbed at his hand while Strider handed her the plant.

“Who is she?” Merry asked quietly as Frodo was tended to.

“Arwen, an elf.” You whispered repeating what you heard her speak to Frodo not seconds ago, “She’s going to save him.” You said out loud to convince yourself more so than the group of Hobbits.

“Frodo,” She whispered, “He’s fading.” She sounded concerned as she looked over to Strider, “He’s not going to last. We must get him to my father.” The two of them stood as Strider grabbed at Frodo, “I’ve been looking for you for two days.” She said to Strider. You watched as the scene unfolded before you not wanting to get in the way of whatever was occurring.

“Where are you taking him?” Sam asked confused and terribly concerned for his friend.

He was ignored as Arwen continued, “There are five Wraiths behind you. Where the other four are, I do not know.” You watched as Strider put Frodo onto the horse with ease.

Suddenly Strider started talking in what you assumed to be Sindarin as you could not understand what they were saying. They must have agreed upon something as Arwen hopped onto the horse and took off with Frodo. Your mind was sent into a spiral as you guessed where he was going and off so quickly.

“She is taking him to Rivendell. To Lord Elrond for him to be healed. She is the faster rider and will get him there sooner. Come, we must go.” He motioned for the group to keep moving, “Miss Y/N, will you walk with me?”

You nodded speeding up your pace to match his, “Master Strider.”

“Strider is fine.” He hummed as he led the group out of the forest somehow knowing exactly where to go.

“Is he going to make it?” You had to ask him. The thought of his passing was eating at you.

He nodded, “His best chance is with Arwen. The sooner we get to Rivendell the sooner we will find out.”

“Well then let us speed up our pace then.” You smiled up at him.

He chucked and nodded. The two of you walked in a comfortable silence as you occasionally made sure the chatty Hobbits behind you were faring all right.

“She is pretty.” You spoke after a while of not being able to get Arwen’s face out of your mind.

“Arwen?” He questioned you giving you a curious once over seeing that the statement seemingly came out of nowhere.

“Aye. She is beautiful.”

“She is. Most elves are.” He agreed with you, “She is wed to another healer. Her father set the marriage up ages ago before you great great grandmother was even a thought.”

“Oh, to have the lifespan of an elf!” You laughed feeling the weight of whatever tension you were holding onto about Arwen be lifted.

“I bet it is not all that it seems to be.” You nodded as the two of you continued on the trek to Rivendell occasionally chatting about random things back and forth. You were so caught up in him you failed to notice the Hobbits watching the two you of converse the entire journey back as if you were already a married couple just strolling the lands.

“Welcome to Rivendell miss Y/N.” Aragorn smiled when he saw your gaping face taking in all the scenery stretching beyond your wildest imagination. He too was struck in awe by its beauty the first time he had come across it all those years ago.

“This cannot be real.” You gasped as he took your hand, pulling you along to look along the city.

“Aye. It is. Come, I want to show you your living quarters for the time being.” He pulled you along knowing exactly where to go in Lord Elrond’s castle. He stopped in what you assumed to be the center seeing two people walking towards the two of you. The wizard and a dark-haired elf stopped just short of you.

“Ah, welcome young one.” Gandalf walked up with who you assumed to be Lord Elrond, “It is wonderful to see you in one piece. Unlike our young Frodo.” He chuckled not realizing what he had said sounded bad without knowing how he was.

Your face dropped, “Oh no, did he not make it?”

Gandalf shook his head hastily in realization of his error, “He is fine young one. A few more hours and he would not have made it.” Gandalf stepped forward, placing a hand on your shoulder in reassurance, “Aragorn here will show you to your chambers.”

You cocked your head to the side, “Aragorn? You said that back in Sarn Ford as well. Who is Aragorn?” This really was not your place to speak in front of so many important people. But you were always a curious one, so you had to ask. The worst they could do is refuse to elaborate any further and you would not press. You did understand boundaries even if you pushed them.

Strider looked at Gandalf with a question in his gaze. Gandalf always had a plan. He could see the feelings bubbling to the surface for Aragorn for his newfound human companion that had to be a gift from Valar himself. Gandalf knew the longer he kept his identity from you the harder the breach of trust would befall the two of you.

Gandalf nodded giving his friend a push towards you. He knew Aragorn had to admit this to you himself. You saw Lord Elrond cock his head in confusion watching the interaction go down. He must not have been privy to what had been going down in Gandalf’s mind.

“Ah, miss Y/N. Strider is my Ranger name. It is my identity. As is Aragorn. Son of Arathorn.” He spoke slowly watching as your face twisted from confusion to realization. You may have been from Eriabor, but you surely knew who Arathorn was.

He continued, “I am also called Elessar, the Elfstone, Dúnadan, the heir of Isildur Elendil's son of Gondor."

“A rightful King?” You asked him with widened eyes. You had no clue that you had been traveling with such a company. You had been so crass it made you want to run away right then and there, especially with Gandalf and Lord Elrond’s amused gazes watching the interaction between two humans.

He nodded, “You are correct.”

“Aragorn.” You spoke for the first time giving him a wide smile, “I do like it. It suits a King such as yourself. Would you mind if I continued to call you Strider though?” Bowing your head slightly you felt a rush of embarrassment pulsate through you. Why were you so unladylike? It was all so thoughtless when he was just a Ranger. Not a bloody King of Gondor.

He waited until your eyes met his again, “No need to bow miss Y/N. And thank you. You may call me either.”

A quick head nod was interrupted by Gandalf, “We must be off. Aragorn drop the young one off at her residence. You are free to explore the castle and Rivendell. But we will need you to meet us in the gardens. We have much to discuss before the Council of Elrond shows up in a few days.” Gandalf spoke directly to Strider who just nodded in agreement.

“Come miss Y/N.” He took your hand and pulled you along quickly, “You will enjoy your stay here. It is a wonderful place. There is quite a bit to do, and the elves are very kind.” He tried his best to reassure you knowing that Gandalf was right. You could not go on. You were not prepared for this kind of journey to any extent. Gandalf also revealed of Aragorn’s known feelings for you. You would be a distraction he could not have along the journey.

“It seems like it.” You grinned thankful you were able to do your own thing for the afternoon. You felt bad for Strider or Aragorn. He seemed to have quite a bit of business to attend to.

He stopped at a door letting you inside. It was small but quant and rather extravagant. Fine details laced every surface. You’d come to expect nothing less from the elves, “I will find you later. Enjoy your day miss Y/N.”

The days went by slowly as you got acquainted with Rivendell. You had the sneaking suspicion your journey was also stopping as Strider was not so keen on giving you any information even though he was gone for days on end.

It was on the day of the gathering of the Council of Elrond that you had all but given up. That was until there was a rapid knocking at your door. Thankfully your elf maiden Nimloth had made sure you were dressed as Strider stood before you with a smile on his face, “Come miss Y/N. The Council of Elrond is starting soon.”

“I am invited?” You were sure there was a dumb look on your face.

He nodded slowly, “Gandalf insisted. Lord Elrond relented.”

You followed him in silence to the gathering of the council. You sat behind Frodo closer to Lord Elrond and away from all of the action that was sure to go down.

It was not long after you took a seat that Lord Elrond stood gathering the council to begin, “Strangers from distant lands, friends of old and new,” His eyes met yours giving you a small wink before continuing on, “You’ve been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite, or you will fail. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom. Bring forth the ring, Frodo.” A shiver ran down your spine at his straight to the point opening. This was not good.

You watched as Frodo stood and dropped the ring on the stump in the middle of the council.

You heard the man called Boromir speak up, “So it is true.” He looked at the ring with something of desire lacing it. You looked at Strider who was watching the man skeptically. He continued, “The doom of man. It is a gift.” Your heart raced at such a senseless statement. You watched as Strider grew angry at his arrogance.

Nevertheless, Boromir continued, “A gift of the foes of Mordor. Why not use this Ring? Long has my father the Steward of Gondor kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against them.” He passionately spoke hoping to gain the agreement of the Council.

But Strider would have none of that false speak, “You cannot wield it. None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master.” Your heart rate sped down at the sensible statement to the man you had grown quite fond of in your week or so of traveling. You had grown a strong liking to the handsome Ranger who saved your life without a second thought.

Boromir looked skeptically at Strider, “And what would a Ranger know of this matter?” He asked with a smug look to his face. You wanted to slap that look right off of his face for he had no clue who he was talking to! A king!

But the elf called Legolas stood quickly in his defense, “This is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn, Son of Arathon.” You watched as his face scrunched up in a minor irritation. He had tried so hard to keep that a secret and now it was out, “You owe him your allegiance.” He finished looking just as irritated as Strider did. It still felt weird to call him Aragorn. So, you kept up with Strider.

Boromir turned back to him, “Aragorn.” He spoke with a hint of shock in his tone, “This is Isildur’s heir?”

“An heir to the throne of Gondor.” Legolas spoke earning a glare from Strider who spoke to him in Elvish quickly. You wondered what he said because Boromir looked suddenly very angry.

Boromir nearly spat with vengeance while looking at the blond elf, “Gondor has no king.” He turned to look back at Strider and shook his head, “Gondor needs no king.”

Gandalf spoke up breaking the tension among men, “Aragorn is right. We cannot use it.”

Lord Elrond stood, “You have only one choice. The Ring must be destroyed.”

The dwarf called Gimli stood then, “What are we waiting for?” He grabbed his axe and sliced at it in attempt to shatter it. Of course, that did nothing but startle the entire council into submission.

“The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin... by any craft that we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade.” Lord Elrond spoke matter of factly. You watched as Frodo nearly collapsed from the pain and realization. You laid a gentle hand on his shoulder hoping he would find some solace in the touch.

Lord Elrond continued, “It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came.” Your heart was hammering in your chest at the realization. This would be no easy task for anybody let alone a Hobbit and human group, “One of you, must do this.” Lord Elrond commanded sending your head into so many different directions. Would Strider go? Would the Hobbits? Surely you would never be able to go. No, Strider would never allow it. He had made that very clear.

Boromir sighed, “One does not simply walk into Mordor. It’s Black Gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. The Great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland riddled with fire, and ash, and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with 10,000 men could you do this. It is folly.”

Legolas was angry now. He shot up from his seat spitting his words at the man, “Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed.”

Gimli spoke up next, “And I suppose you think you are the one to do it!” The tension grew in the air as everyone began to feel uneasy of the task at hand.

Boromir stood next, “And if we fail, what then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?”

Gimli continued, “I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an Elf!” He shouted. Your eyes went wide as everything seemed to be going away from the goal at hand, “Never trust an Elf!”

The group erupted in bickering as you and Frodo sat back in fear of what was going to happen. All but suddenly you watched as Frodo stood. He shouted, “I will take it.” It took him a few attempts before the group heard him.

“I will take the Ring to Mordor.” He said again once everyone had quieted down. You gulped as you watched the scene unfold.

He spoke again, “Though, I do not know the way.”

Gandalf nodded, “I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins as long as it is yours to bear.”

You sat further back into your chair as you watched Strider stand, “If by my life or death I can protect you I will.” Your heart sunk at his words. He caught your forlorn gaze and gave you a simple smile. He walked to Frodo and knelt before the small Hobbit, “You have my sword.”

Legolas stepped forward, “And you have my bow.” Your heart raced seeing the elf walk forward. Thank goodness he volunteered. You had heard stories of the mighty elf warrior of Mirkwood.

“And my ax.” Gimli agreed as he walked towards the growing group. You stood from your spot away from the group, closer towards Lord Elrond. Almost as if you had already known your assigned fate.

Boromir joined slowly, “You carry the fates of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the Council then Gondor will see it done.” He stood by the group.

Suddenly the other hobbits joined in earning a hard-earned smile from Lord Elrond.

“Nine companions. So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring.” You watched as Elrond anointed the group complete. Your downcast eyes found Striders who looked at you with all the care in the world. You were more than nervous for the man you had grown so fond of so quickly. Dare you say you might actually have real genuine feelings for the man standing in the group of nine.

“The journey is no place for a lady.” Strider insisted as he pulled you away from the fellowship. He had conjured up a hundred scenarios in his mind and decided you could not come after seeking the guidance of Gandalf. It was far too dangerous for someone as delicate as you were. He shuddered at the thought of seeing you with a sword far too big for you trying your best to defend not only yourself but the Hobbits from the Nazgul. He never wanted to see or put you in such a situation as that ever again.

Your look broke his heart ten times over. It is not like he wanted to leave you in Rivendell with the elves. He would do anything to take you, but it was just far too dangerous. The encounter with the Nazgul did it in enough for him to hold firm on the decision, “I’m not a lady Aragorn, and you know it! But I understand.” You countered but admitted your faults. You were nothing but a lowly peasant from a tiny village near Eriador. You didn’t mean much to middle earth, a place holder for whatever Valar had planned.

He twisted his head to the side giving you a once over and a sly smile, “Not yet anyway.” He walked towards you, stopping right in front of you. Wanting to say the next word so all the elves and Hobbits behind him couldn’t hear. Having to turn your head up to make eye contact he leaned forward and whispered in your ear, “I have every intention of making you one, my lady.”

Your eyes growing wide and the rosiness that formed on your neck and cheeks made the elves behind him laugh in unison amongst themselves. You noticed the confusion lining the Hobbits faces, no doubt wonder what he had said to you to illicit such a reaction.

You looked back to him with the hint of smile dancing on your lips, “They can hear you Strider.”

He brushed the pads of his fingers along your jawline, “Let them.” He had yet to be so forthcoming with his feelings so far. Sure, you had only known him a little over a week but you had not left his side since you met him. It had already felt so long ago. And when the heart knew it knew. It knew it had feelings for the handsome man with the most beautiful blue eyes that looked at you so kindly standing before you.

“Please be safe.” Your eyes welled with unshed tears as you accepted his command. You could not go along with them. You’d be nothing but the burden you so desperately wanted to avoid. But you also did not want to stay in Rivendell. The elves seemed welcoming enough but who knew how long he would have to be gone. You would surely overstay your welcome.

A curt nod came from the man you’d grown to love in such a short amount of time, “As you wish.” He moved his fingers to your eyes brushing away the tears that had managed to spill over, “Do not cry. I will be back as soon as I can.” The moment felt far too intimate to have the whole company trying not to watching but paying close attention anyway, they were not being sly about like they thought they were. They had all grown to adore you in some capacity, more some than others. Pippen was especially sad your journey had ended there. He had quite enjoyed getting to know you along the short trek from The Shire to Rivendell. You were unlike any other mortal he had met.

“I know. But you will find me in Bree.” You answered him letting the tears fall even as you tried your best to stop them.

He shook his head quickly, “No, you will stay here. In Rivendell. You will be protected here. Lord Elrond has assured me of that.” That sounded more like Aragorn than the Strider you knew. It hit you that the rightful King of Gondor was standing right in front of you. No wonder he had seemed so effortless in leading the group to Rivendell. It was in his blood.

“I do not belong here Aragorn.” You spoke in a plea muttering his actual name for just the second time. It still felt foreign, but you welcomed it on your tongue. Aragon, King of Gondor.

His eyes piqued up in utter curiosity at the sudden name change. You had seemed so adamant on continuing to call him by his Ranger name despite finding his true identity through Gandalf, “You can find an identity here my lady. Lord Elrond will not let that falter. Do you not believe me?” He frowned not enjoying seeing you in such a distressed state. He too had grown to have deep feelings for you. You were kind and compassionate. Smarter than you knew. Made him smile more than he ever had in his life in the short time he had known you. You kept him on his toes, and he adored that about you. He grew to like maybe even love you in mere days.

“I am a burden here. Useless. They will get sick of me.” You were pleading to him now. If you knew better you would not be pushing somebody of such high stature.

He gulped not knowing what to say. He could pick up on your stress through your expression and the way you picked at your fingernails. A habit he’d seen both at the Inn and when the group was attacked by the Nazgul. Just as he was about to open his mouth he heard Elrond from behind him. And bless him he thought for he had no idea how to calm your racing mind.

“Have you not enjoyed your stay here at Rivendell? Do you not wish to stay?” Lord Elrond spoke up after hearing the concerns you had spoken in private to Aragorn. He knew he likely should have just stayed quiet and let Aragorn handle the situation. But his overly sensitive ears could pick up the frantic panic in your voice towards the man.

You shook your head quickly, “No my lord. I wish to not be a burden to your home. You see I… I do not have much to offer your city.” You hung your head in shame hoping you did not fully insult Elrond. He had already been so kind to you.

“A burden?” He shook his head walking over to the two of you. All eyes still watching the interaction with the utmost curiosity, “You would hardly be a burden. I will be honest with you. With many of the elves planning to take to the sea I will need some help preparing. You will have a place here. Rest assured.”

A small sigh let out from your chest. Aragorn watched you intently with a bright smile on his face seeing the Elf relax your mind in mere moments. Leave it to Elrond to calm you down so easily. He needed to take a page or two from his book.

“Are you sure Lord Elrond?” You asked timidly to the much, much taller elf. Why’d they have to be so beautiful and intimidating at the same time?

He gave you a quick nod before turning, “I have already made up my mind child. Now let us go. The Fellowship has much planning to do before they are off in a few days.” He motioned for you to follow him.

You turned back to Aragorn before you left, “I wish you luck. I will see you soon. Be safe.” Taking a risk, you grabbed for his hand giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Anything for you my lady.” You caught the brief wink he had given you before bowing his head.

You walked over to the rest of the group, “I wish you all nothing but the best. Please take care of each other. I want to see you all when this is over. Yea?” Your voice broke at the end.

The Hobbits crowded around you giving you one last hug, “We will take your word to heart Lady Y/N.” Pippen smiled as he hugged your side.

“I am no lady.” You laughed once more. Where had they all gotten this ridiculous notion from?

“That’s not what Legolas told us.” Frodo smirked while looking over at Aragorn was deep in conversation with Boromir not paying a lick of attention to the goodbyes you were giving. It hurt him just as much as it was hurting you so he distracted himself with the other man in the Fellowship.

Your eyes found the blonde elf who attempted to feign innocence for the second time that afternoon, “You are a rightful menace Legolas.” You muttered to him almost finding enjoyment out of his butting in.

He shrugged innocently, “I am not sure what you are talking about Lady Y/N.”

You smiled shaking your head while giving each Hobbit a quick squeeze, “Good luck Legolas. Please watch out for him?” Your request may have been too much for the elf and you knew it. A big ask that you would have never of done had you not fallen for him so quickly.

But he agreed, “You have my word, my lady.” He smirked sensing your aversion to the formality you so desperately tried to avoid.

A quick shake of the head and you went off to follow Elrond you was waiting for you patiently in the distance, “I will see you all soon.” You waved, not waiting for their response as it felt to be too much in the moment. It amazed you

“Thank you for your hospitality Lord Elrond.” You said quickly once you caught up to the dark-haired elf.

He gave you what you was sure was a genuine smile, “It brings me a great pleasure to host you Lady Y/N.”

Your mouth gaped, “Is he forcing you to say that?” Surely you were going to have to get used to the title if Elrond had agreed to it. It would be shameful to try and correct the ruler of the land. Even you had some semblance of sanity and preservation.

Elrond shook his head quickly. He gave you a serious expression, one that you were not used to seeing from elf, “Aragorn is the rightful heir to the Throne of Gondor. We recognize the title here in Rivendell. I respect what he wishes. If he has given you that title you should wear that as a badge of honor.”

“You think so?” You thought you might have been pressing your luck with the lord. But he had the patience of somebody you had never met before. He was like no human you knew even if he was half of it.

If he was offended at your questioning he hid it well. A small smile adorned his features as he led you down the path to an empty room in the castle he had placed you in earlier, “I know so. When you have been around as long as I. You tend to notice these small things.”

He stopped in front of a door you had not been privy too in your prior explorations, “Your quarters for the time being. I had Nimloth move your belongings from your previous room to here. I suspect you will find it adequate.”

Your eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets when he opened the massive wood doors. The most intricate carvings of wood was placated on every surface of the room. The detail and craftsmanship was beyond anything you had seen in your tiny little village. You ran your fingers along the different sets of furniture admiring the fine detail that was crafted into every surface, “More than adequate Lord Elrond. Thank Nimloth for me?” You asked after finding all your belongings neatly put away.

He bowed to you. An elf bowed to you! What had this life become? Once so lost now you were somebody a lord found pleasure in conversing with.

“I will see to it. She will fetch you for dinner as well. Welcome to Rivendell.” Without waiting for a response, he shut the doors behind him letting you be with your thoughts. And oh, were they racing beyond your wildest measure.

It had been 414 days since Aragorn and the Fellowship had set out to destroy the ring. You refused to give up any sort of hope as you heard bits and pieces of information from Lord Elrond. You had grown close to elf in your stay at Rivendell. He had given you sage life advice time and time again. You were there for him when Arwen and his sons went off to sea not to be seen again until he were to take his trip. You knew he was utterly lonely and wanting nothing more than to go be with his wife and children. But he had a duty to middle earth that he would see too. He would see that the age of man had a true leader in Aragorn to guide peace and prosperity forward. He knew the age of elf was done and good. Frodo just had to finish it by destroying the ring.

You were sitting in the study reading a text in Sindarin, Lord Elrond had taught you enough of the language to get by, when you heard the doors to the study open with a loud thud. You set the text down on the desk as you peaked your head towards the door.

“Lady Y/N?” Lord Elrond’s voice called out.

You stood from your chair, “Yes my lord?” You caught him smiling ear to ear at the front of the study. A giddy feeling of shock shot throughout your body in anticipation for what might come next.

“They are back.”

You felt like your heart might have actually stopped beating there for a second, “Aragorn?” You asked breathlessly.

“Alive and well. Come.” He motioned you to follow him just like he had all those days ago when you first got to Rivendell.

When you spotted him out in the courtyard you did not give a second thought about being a lady anymore. You all out sprinted to the man who had consumed you whole in his time away. He wrapped you in his arms once you ran right into his chest. Letting out a small grunt from the impact he started laughing. A full-on belly laugh rang out from the man as he held you in his arms once more.

“You came back.” You felt the tears forming in your eyes as you buried yourself in his chest.

He held you in his arms as tightly as he could relishing in the moment of just being there with you, “I gave you my word, my lady. Did I not?” He pulled you back so he could look at you. Ethereal. Rivendell had been nothing but good to you he concluded. He would have to thank Lord Elrond for being so hospitable towards the one he had loved.

“You did. Thank you.” You grasped him a little tighter as he clinged onto you just the same.

You gasped opening the letter from the Shire, “Sam and Rose!” You ran over to Aragorn with a gleeful smile on your face, “Look, they are to be wed in six months! Long after you are crowned King. I would like to go.”

“Ahh, finally.” Aragorn grabbed the letter from your hand with a smile on his face. You admired him as he read the joyous news of the union. He was so handsome. And he was soon to be crowned King of Gondor, Gandalf had shared with the group the night they came back. He was due to be crowned in two months’ time in Minas Tirith. It gave time for all parties to travel to the desired destination to see the rightful heir be crowned king.

“I was worried he would never go for it. We shall go if you will have me?” Aragorn noted as he smoothed out the robes for tomorrow’s crowning. He had felt more nervous of the thought of proposing to you than he was about being crowned King. Valar calm his nerves.

“Aye. I would love to go with you Aragorn. But is that so? Had he been shy about her?” You asked your love that you were almost afraid to admit to.

He nodded recalling all the time Samwise made comments about the Hobbit he had loved from afar, “He was never the most risk adverse. I think the journey changed him.”

“Yea.” You nodded, “It was good for him.”

He nodded his head. His soft expression hardening just a tinge as he took you in, “You are so beautiful. When I did not think that I was going to make it… the thought of you kept me going. I am so honored to have you by my side.”

You leaned your head back into his chest letting the sun beat down on the two of you as he had helped you prepare for the journey to his rightful home. He had been to Minas Tirith many times before, but never as the King. He was overjoyed at the thought of bringing you to his home. He was not lying before when he promise to make you his lady. He was planning to wed to you not too long after he was crowned King.

“It is my honor Aragorn.” You felt him squeeze his hand along your waist.

He had taken you to his new home by horse. Just the two of you heading to his Kingdom. He wanted to spend the time with you and get to know you. And he was more than glad he did. He did not think it to be possible, but he had fallen more deeply in love with you on the month-long trek to Gondor. It had solidified what he had planned to do, propose to you as soon as he was crowned King. He had gotten Lord Elrond in on the plan as well. Surely, you would be more than irritated at the public display, but he knew you would soon get over it.

Your eyes lit up in amazement at the city that had spring up before you once you had finally made it after a little over a month on the road. It was more massive than even Rivendell had been. You had no idea such structures existed within the human world and was slightly ashamed you knew so little about your very own brethren.

“Welcome to Minas Tirith my lady.” A breathy whisper in your ear he watched below as you took in the city.

“This is… incredible Aragon.” Your eyes traveled everywhere in awe as he rode up the main street on his horse. You were pleasantly surprised at all the greetings even you were getting from all the citizens that resided within the city.

He led you straight to the castle at the center of the city knowing you were probably more than overwhelmed. Sure, he had warned you but actually seeing it and doing it was entirely different thing. He bowed to his guards as he made his way to his, and soon to be your, chambers.

“You will sleep here tonight.” He said matter of factly as you explored his chambers.

You shook your head, “I cannot. This is your room. You need to rest before tomorrow! You are being crowned King. That does not happen every day Aragorn.” You protested but he simply shook his head.

“It is all right.” He led you to his bed, “I insist my lady. I have made up my mind and you will not be able to change it.” He grinned beautifully as you sat down on the bed, accepting defeat so easily.

“So stubborn you are.”  You mused at him with a delighted look on your face. It felt like a step was being taken as he insisted you stay in his quarters. Protected by the best of the best. He saw you as nothing but precious to him.

He chucked softly, “I must leave you to it. Feel free to explore. One of the guards can show you around if you would like. I must see to a few things before tomorrow. I will see you after the ceremony?” He asked watching you carefully. He wanted you to be comfortable before he left you. He knew it would be tough to go a night without each other after spending so much alone for the better part of a month.

“All right.” You nodded quickly, “I will see you tomorrow, my King.” You grinned right back at him knowing you would never tire of calling him that. It was a far cry from the Strider you had met so long ago now.

He brushed his hand along your jaw. Giving you a brief bow, he spoke once more, “My lady.” Before walking out his chambers and leaving you too it. A wave of exhaustion coupled by the softness of the mattress below you sent you into a slumber much sooner than you were expecting. Maybe you would get the grand tour another time. For now, sleep overtook you..

You watched in awe as Gandalf crowned Aragorn with amazement in his own eyes. You had truly never seen anything so grandeur in your life. All this for your Aragorn. Yet, you felt he had deserved this and so much more.

“Now come the days of the King.” Gandalf’s voice boomed throughout Minas Tirith as thousands stood to watch Aragorn be crowned. You felt your eyes well up with proud tears as the crown laid atop his head. He was so striking. So Kingly. Your breath was taken away as he turned to the crowd. He was your King.

“This day does not belong to one man… but to all.” His voice now boomed filling your chest with the utmost pride for the man you loved, “Let us together rebuild this world… that we may share in the days of peace.” He smiled as the crowd erupted in cheers for their newly crowned King. You joined in happily clapping and cheering along with the city folk.

He sang as the flower petals began to fall. You watched as his company and all those around him bowed to him as he walked amongst the crowd. Your heart sped up rapidly as he was moving along closer, and closer to you.

Elrond pulled you back behind a shield at your protest as Legolas stepped forward. Being none the wiser you shot your elder a precarious look as he told you to be quiet and wait a second and you would see what was going on. He did not lie to you. Lord Elrond never did.

The elf beside you pulled the shield away leaving you staring right into the icy blue eyes of the man you had loved so dearly. You gulped but stepped towards him. He looked just as entranced as you felt.

Feeling overwhelmed at the entirely of the situation you bowed your head to your King once you were mere inches in front of him. Never before had so many eyes been on you. Yet he had made it feel like it really was just the two of you at that moment.

He would have none of that though. He took his hand under your chin and pulled it up, so you were looking at him. He too forgot that thousands of people were watching. It felt like it was just you and him. You had that effect on him. Your doe eyes staring up at him so desperately is what did him in. He could simply wait no longer to have what he wanted… you.

When you smiled at him he did not care any longer. He went straight in for the kiss. You wrapped your arms around him as he spun you around, happier than ever before. He had let his intentions be known. You were his for forever, his forever.

You would be embarrassed later but now it was just you and him. A giggle erupted from you as you hugged him once more. He grabbed your hand and pulled you along as he went to search for the Hobbits.

You took a knee after Aragorn spoke, “My friends… you bow to no one.” A smile erupted on your face as you watched the kingdom take a knee for them. Frodo’s face told the story. Aragorn gently wiped off the tears that were streaming down your face.

“I love you, my Queen.” He whispered in your ear.

“Your Queen?” You gasped looking up to him. Surely you did not think you would take

“Are we to be wed no?” He asked curiously.

“Aye.” You nodded, “I just did not believe to have such a title.” You looked away from him as he directed everyone to stand once more.

“I am King. You are to be my Queen.” He said so matter of factly you could not believe you were questioning yourself.

“As you wish.” You smiled so gleefully not truly believing this was actually your life now.

He leaned in for one more gentle kiss to please the crowd, “My Queen.” He whispered letting you know he had every good intention in the world with you. For the first time in his already long life, he could not wait to get his life started with you.

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[heliads]

You Agreed to This

Pierre Gasly has a reputation for flirting with anything that breathes. You have a reputation for being scarily focused on racing. When Charles, Lando, and Esteban get it into their heads to dare Pierre to get you to fall in love with him, the results can only be tragic.

a/n: i was frustrated when i couldn't find fics with this vague plotline like two months ago and then i remembered that i can simply make them myself. anyway this is my longest fic to date (6k+ words), enjoy!

masterlist

The whole affair started in the recesses of the Alpine motorhome, too far from prying eyes and chances to stop before it got bad. Miami is boiling hot as per usual, it gets to Pierre just like it always does. He’s trying to fend off the heat by hiding somewhere deep within his team’s complex, team jacket stripped off somewhere on a nearby sofa and fans cranked on high. 

It was just Pierre at the beginning, but drivers tend to flock together in times of heat related stress, and now there are four of them sprawled across floors and furniture in an attempt to alleviate their suffering. Charles found Pierre first, just like he usually does, then Lando followed after media duties were over, and Esteban was last, claiming that if this many rival drivers were there he had a right to die in his own motorhome too, god damn it.

Pierre has mixed thoughts on that. He has mixed thoughts on quite a lot, actually– the blistering temperatures are getting to him, swirling memories into fact into fiction. He’ll get his head in order when it comes time to race, but that won’t happen until tomorrow, once qualis are in order and they’ve all been shunted around for the grid lineup.

Across the room, Lando groans from the shadows of a functionally decorated armchair. “This is miserable.”

Pierre gives him a look. “Your complaining is miserable.” 

Undeterred, Lando keeps up his protests. “We should do something fun. Pierre, don’t you know like a thousand people here? Invite someone over.”

Pierre snorts. “I don’t know all of Miami, Lando. Go to sleep or something.”

Esteban chuckles. “Could have fooled me. Didn’t you tag, like, a hundred people in your latest Instagram story?”

Pierre turns his head to glare at his teammate. They’re still supposed to be friends as of three or so months of being racing partners, but apparently that association doesn’t go so far as requiring Esteban to defend him. “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”

Charles shakes his head, grinning. “It’s the truth, let him speak. You have connections.”

Lando flings a dramatic arm over his eyes to block out the sunlight pouring in through the windows. They’ve all been shut with the blinds pulled down, of course, but some warmth has a way of coming in regardless of what anyone wants. “Pierre’s just sociable like that. He could win over anybody. Or flirt with anybody.”

Pierre rolls his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Norris.”

Charles arches a brow. “What would he be jealous of, your losing streak? I saw you strike out trying to talk up Margot Robbie last time we were in Monaco, don’t lie to me.”

“That was different,” Pierre protests, “she’se literally married, what did you expect?”

Charles coughs pointedly. “Yet you flirted with her anyway. Anyways, don’t argue. You can’t flirt with everybody. Not successfully, at least.”

Pierre leans forward cautiously. “What does that mean?”

Charles laughs. “There’s one person you could never charm in a thousand years.”

Pierre sighs, answers Charles’ unspoken question in time with his friend. “Y/N L/N?”

“Y/N L/N,” Charles confirms, and the other three drivers break into identical grins.

Pierre can accept defeat on that front. Y/N L/N is the only female driver on the grid at the moment, and anyone can tell why she made it despite the odds mere moments after meeting her. She’s crazy intense, more dedicated to racing than even Max or Lewis. Pierre wouldn’t be surprised if she could win a driver’s championship in the next year or two. Talk to her once and you’ll be stunned that she hasn’t done it yet.

Every time Pierre, or any other driver or spectator for that matter, has tried to chat her up, they always end up shut down faster than you can spin out on a slick track with the wrong tires. She doesn’t have time for any of them. The girl lives and breathes and dies for racing, she’s not going to let something like a boy get in her way.

This only makes Pierre more tempted to keep up with her, of course, but he learned a long time ago that was a lost cause. The only reason Y/N would ever look twice at him is if he was a place ahead of her during a race, and given her knack for overtakes, that doesn’t happen all that often.

Lando sits forward, and Pierre decides that he doesn’t like the gleam in the younger boy’s eyes. “Say, I’ve got a great idea to stave off boredom. Pierre, go date Y/N.”

Pierre almost chokes. “Are you insane? Just like that, go date her? How would that help you in any way?”

Lando spreads his hands. “If it would be so easy for you to flirt with anybody, how about you prove it? Surely Y/N isn’t so far out of your league. You’re both in the same line of work, at least you’ve got that going for you.”

Pierre opens his mouth to fight this. He may have a bit of a cocky streak, sure, but he’s a driver, who amongst them doesn’t? Just as he starts to get himself out of this, though, Esteban speaks up instead.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Pierre couldn’t even come close. None of us can.” Esteban says it like a fact, and that’s all it takes for Pierre to change his tune.

“You know what?” He says, feeling his adrenaline start to kick in, “Sure I can.”

Charles’ eyes widen. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m always serious about girls,” Pierre says, causing a ripple of groans to cascade around the room, “This time I am, at least. I’ll win her over, no problem.”

Lando sits up. “If you’re really doing this, we’ve got to set some rules.”

“Such as?” Pierre dares him to continue.

Charles taps a thoughtful hand on his leg. “It has to be more than a one time thing. Just a single conversation could be a fluke or her feeling bad for you.”

Outraged, Pierre starts to fight that, but Lando picks up the thread of the conversation before he can cut it short. “That makes sense. We have to be sure that she’s actually in love with you. Like, get her to kiss you or something? And pics or it didn’t happen. We need proof.”

Pierre snickers, trying not to feel like control is slipping out of his hands with each passing second. “Anything else? Want me to name our firstborn child after you?”

That makes Esteban crack up. “That’s a little extreme, don’t you think? We’ll settle for being named godfather. All three of us collectively.”

Pierre shakes his head incredulously. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

Charles slaps him on the back. “You have to believe in yourself, Pierre. If you don’t, she’ll never fall for it.”

And so Pierre Gasly gets himself stuck in the con of a lifetime. Is it going to work? The odds are abysmal. Will he make it, though? Well, Pierre never likes to back down from a challenge. He’s not going to let this one get away from him so easily.

The sun is bright and the morning is tense in the paddock. You arrived early, earlier than most of the drivers, all so you could get a taste of what the track was like without anyone breathing down your neck. Some would call you a little too eager, others would say you’re plain stressed out and nothing more to it.

You’d give yourself a little more credit than that, though. You know exactly who you are and what you have to prove. The more time you give yourself to plan and acclimate, the less time there is for mistakes.

That isn’t to say that you ignore all the comments on your pre-race habits. You are well aware of your reputation, even proud of it. You wear it as a second skin, a racing suit, a livery specially designed to flaunt your own achievement. The whispers of those out and about in the world of motorsport follow you wherever you go, dogging your footsteps until you half expect to leave streams of words behind you instead of burned rubber.

That’s Y/N L/N. The one who only cares about the track? The one who lives and dies for racing? That’s the one. That’s the one.

There’s not much else to it. So what if you tend to be a little more intense than most? Being serious is the only method of survival available to you. You can be sweet and fun, play yourself off as the ditzy girl who only got in so her team could capitalize on brand deals, or you can be a woman without a feminine bone in her body, so far from girlish she chokes whenever she sees the color pink. Both are awful alternatives, so you choose the only one you can:  ignore every box they try to push you in until everyone else gives up. Let them whisper. At least they aren’t trying to change you anymore.

That’s how you’ve navigated the paddock up until now, the entirety of racing life as you know it. It’s worked out in your favor, or so you’d say, at least. You push yourself on and off track. You answer the unfair questions they throw at you. You solve the mysteries of why someone is taking an involvement in your affairs and come out on top of any possible rumors.

There are mysteries, though, and then there’s the latest one, which is why on Earth Pierre Gasly has taken to following you around the paddock. They all did, at the start; the drivers, the fans, the interviewers, even the team bosses, all staring at you like you were in a circus exhibition. A girl in motorsport? Couldn’t be. Yet it is. 

That’s mostly drifted off, though, the attention gone once they realized you weren’t interested in belonging to any of them. Most of them did it unintentionally, of course, and the few who got too close on purpose quickly learned they would get nothing from you. Pierre learned that himself, or so you thought. That doesn’t stop his attention from surging up again all of a sudden.

It’s been a solid few weeks of this behavior, and you’re still no closer to understanding it than you were at the start. If you were to put an initial date on this whole affair, you’d maybe say everything began back in Miami. All of a sudden, Pierre, who up until now had accepted that you weren’t interested in him even if he didn’t like that all too much, had decided to renew his affections once more. 

Where you had been content to walk briskly through the paddock by yourself, Pierre is suddenly a few feet behind you, always ready to offer a bottle of water when you need it or issue a joking comment when you seem in need of a laugh. He’s playing his cards carefully, always disappearing the moment you start to take his presence for granted, but why, you cannot tell. Everyone here has a motive. Surely Pierre Gasly has one as well.

You weren’t willing to trust him at first, ignoring him throughout the Miami race and all sessions at Imola. The only angle worth your while is your own, and maybe your constructor’s, too. Still, he stayed. That has to count for something.

And, when the end of a race finds you absolutely desolate after an engine failure, that starts to count a little more than it would have before. This race is early enough in the year that the DNF doesn’t have to sting too much, but all you can think about is how you just gave Max, Charles, and the rest of the title competitors the leg up they need to beat you out.

It’s not a good feeling, to say the least. You find some empty corner of the paddock where you can be alone and let your emptiness consume you. That was your plan, at least, but you’ve only been able to wallow in your own misery for about ten minutes or so before someone else joins you. The only other driver to fail to complete the necessary laps:  Pierre.

Pierre may not have had engine problems like you, but that doesn’t make him any luckier. George Russell spun wide on a turn and took out Pierre before righting himself again. George got off relatively easy for a crash, only needed to swap out some tires and his front wing, but Pierre took the brunt of it and ended up in the barriers. You heard him swearing, frustrated, on the radio after the race; the commentators loved that one, even if he didn’t.

That leaves both of you in the same undesirable position. Pierre arches a brow as he takes in the sight of you:  legs pulled up to your chest where you sit slumped against the wall, expression hopeless and all ambition gone for the moment.

“Mind if I join you?” He asks, “I’m trying to hide from Sky Sports.”

You gesture vaguely at the open floor next to you. “Feel free. I'm not too thrilled about hearing from them, either.”

Pierre collapses in an untidy heap of limbs by your side, pulling at the collar of his race suit so he can unzip it down to his waist, leaving only the long sleeved shirt clinging to his skin. “At least engine failure is something you can’t control. Everyone’s been all over me trying to get me to admit that I should have seen George coming.”

You wrinkle your brow. “That wasn’t your fault. He braked late, it was obvious.”

Pierre glances over at you, clearly fighting a laugh. “Obvious, huh?”

You look away, wondering why you feel embarrassed all of a sudden. You don’t lie when it comes to racing, why bother? Thanks to the vast supplies of driver cameras and radio clips, there’s no point in glossing over what everyone knows to be true. Still, Pierre has a way of making that feel like something you should think twice about, like maybe not all of your attitudes towards drivers and their habits are things you should speak freely on. Maybe some things can be kept just to yourself. Maybe some drivers are beginning to verge beyond mere functionality as competitors.

“Everyone saw it,” you justify, “bad timing, that’s all. Not something you could control no matter how much space you gave him.”

Pierre nods solemnly. “The engine wasn’t your fault either, by the way. There was nothing you could have done to make it work again. You can’t limp through a problem like that.”

You tilt your head back, staring up at the ceiling above you. “I tried, though.”

“I know,” Pierre says. They’re only two words, but for some reason they make you feel better than any of the minutes spent listening to your engineers’ speeches on how they would fix that issue by the next race.

Judging by the slight smile on Pierre’s face, he must know that too. When the seconds stretch into minutes and you never tell Pierre to go, that smile only deepens. The conversation leaves the race eventually, and you end up talking about silly things like movies you’d like to see or places you want to go but never have. You don’t know that you’ve ever spoken to another driver like this before. You don’t know that you could with anyone else.

You have to leave that corner eventually, called away by a team principal with apologies in order. Pierre departs around the same time, claiming that he can’t run from the interviewers forever. You steal one last glance at him over your shoulder as you go, and can’t help but notice the grin on his face. It’s broader than before, proud of something; what, you can’t tell. Despite the fact that both of you have failed out of the race, you still get the feeling that Pierre has won at something more than you today. 

Charles releases an Instagram post later that day of him, Pierre, and a few other drivers out at a club. You see it, and spend too much time wondering how long you have to wait after a photo is posted to like it so it’s not weird. What you don’t see is the conversation that happened later, how Pierre triumphantly told the rest that he was closer than they’d ever believe. You don’t see it, and the next time you see him, you stop to talk with a ready smile.

So it goes the next race, and the next one, and the next. Pierre is there. So are you. You end up finding him eventually; as time goes on, it’s not just Pierre seeking you out but the other way around, too. It’s even, both of you wanting each other just as often as the other. Eventually, you have to admit defeat to the voice in the back of your head telling you that you might have misread Pierre after all. Maybe he’s not just a horrific flirt. Maybe he can be a friend.

And, leaning over the railing of Pierre’s room in the Alpine motorhome so you can feel the gentle wind on your face while you stare out at the paddock, you think you would be alright if there was something more, too. You swore to yourself you’d never even think about another driver in that way, too scared of all your efforts to distinguish yourself from everyone’s expectations for female drivers being for naught, but it might be okay if it was Pierre. Pierre is different, nothing like the rest. It would be alright if it was him.

Pierre stands by your side, back straight and posture perfect as he surveys the mess of people milling about some floors below. “Nervous for the race?”

You tilt your head to the side, considering the question. “As much as anyone, I guess. I like this track, though. Should be good.”

Pierre nods, smiling at that. “And what about me? Am I going to be good, too?”

You roll your eyes. “You don’t need me to tell you that.” 

He doesn’t; this is one of Pierre’s best tracks. He should be up for a podium or at least high in the points if everything goes according to plan.

He just grins. “Indulge me.”

You give him a pointed stare, then head back into the room. “You’re an ass.”

Pierre follows. “You love me, though.”

A pause. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” He asks, unable to disguise a slight shine of surprise from entering his eyes, like despite all the luck he’d had recently, Pierre still didn’t think he would get this far.

You lift your shoulder in a half-shrug, unwilling to commit to anything further. You feel as if you’re standing on a lake frozen over, aware that any wrong move could shatter the ice beneath your feet.

Pierre moves towards the door, and for one horrified moment you think he’s actually going to leave right then and there before you realize he’s closing it instead. He turns back once he’s sure no passersby can see you, and then he’s kissing you and you can’t worry about anything else. Not even the race. Not even the threat that this might send you spiraling until you’re so lost on him that you won’t be able to think straight for the rest of your life.

He leans back at last, smiling at you with the same smile you think you saw on a podium on Monza when he first won a race in F1. “We could have done that earlier,” he whispers, not daring to disturb the quiet victory of the room.

“We could have,” you answer him. Every driver hates losing time. This is no exception.

Your head is light with the most wonderful feeling, and then over Pierre’s shoulder you see something strange. He left the door open. Cracked halfway, even though this door is notorious for never staying open right. He would have had to try to keep it like this. He would have wanted it to be that way for a reason.

Pierre’s phone vibrates and he grimaces, murmuring something about having to talk to one of his engineers before slipping out of the room. He kisses you one last time before he leaves, a quiet touch pressed to your cheek. He takes great care to ensure that you do not see the message blinking up from his screen, and when he goes, you notice that he does not have to turn the knob, only pull open an already ajar door.

Something is wrong. The longer you stand there, alone in Pierre’s room, the more you start to think, and what you think about is not good at all. The timing of the text message. The look on his face when he left. Nothing is adding up.

Voices drift to you down the hall as you stand there wondering, Pierre’s among them. You walk slowly forward, unable to fight a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach like something is about to go very, very poorly. You usually trust your instincts. As it turns out, they won’t be wrong now.

Pierre is standing in a meeting room down the hall, talking in hushed voices to a few other drivers. As you draw closer, you recognize them. Charles, closest; Lando, eyes wide; Esteban, even, staring in disbelief. All three are telling Pierre replications of the same sentiment, which is that they cannot believe he actually managed to do it.

Get you to fall in love with him, they mean. Fulfill the dare, they explain. Like they all agreed a few months ago. Back in Miami, the three of them dared Pierre to get you to fall for him, and like the overconfident, thrill seeking diehard flirt that he is, Pierre agreed.

Worse:  he did it successfully. You know, you had been wondering if this was too good to be true. Looks like it was. All that time you were letting Pierre into your heart, and he was manipulating you into falling in love. How pathetic. How incredibly soul-destroying.

The four drivers look up when you shut the door to the meeting room behind you. Pierre is the first one to notice it’s you, and you don’t ever think you’ll forget the look on his face when he realizes that you know the truth. His entire expression contorts with horror and his hands rise by his sides, trying to force your heart to stay unbroken. Pity it’s too late for that.

“Y/N–” he begins, a little too loud, a little too desperate, “wait– it’s not what it sounds like–”

“Actually,” you say coolly, “I believe that it is. You three dared Pierre to get me to fall in love with him? That’s exactly what it is, right?”

It’s not a question. Charles, Lando, and Esteban have realized you’re here, too, and they wear similar shades of Pierre’s alarm. Charles opens his mouth to say something, perhaps to explain himself, but you cut him off.

“Don’t even try. I know what you did, I don’t want to hear your terrible reasoning for why you thought this was okay. I’m going to go back to my motorhome and we are never going to speak of this again. Don’t talk to me in the paddock. Don’t talk to me at all unless we’re in a media event and you have to. I never want to speak to any of you.”

Lando interrupts, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Y/N, don’t you think that’s a little extreme? It was just a prank, that’s all. Just a laugh.”

Pierre looks like he’s fighting back deep irritation at that. You just arch one brow. “Just a prank to humiliate me? You disgust me. All of you.”

You let that silence their arguments and leave the room. You think Pierre might have tried to follow you out, but Charles blocks him. You hear the Monegasque’s voice spilling out into the hall as you leave, telling Pierre not to try it. She obviously doesn’t want to see any of us anymore, mate. Best to leave it be.

You wish it was that easy for you. It takes everything in you to make it to your private room in your team’s motorhome and lock the door behind you before the tears finally come flooding out. You’d like nothing more than to fly home and spend the next several days and nights comatose in your bed, but, as if things weren’t bad as is, there’s still a race tomorrow, so you won’t be able to go anywhere for at least twenty-four hours.

The lights go out, the chequered flag waves some time later. You’re not entirely aware of what happened in that race, nor of how you were able to drag yourself out of your room and back to the starting grid, but you blink once and you’re on the podium, so evidently everything worked out. You watch the clips later, the commentators are all in shock. They haven’t seen you race so aggressively in years. It bordered on cruelty.

Pierre, by contrast, had his worst race in months. It seemed like he was hardly in charge at all, more like the car was controlling him. He wasn’t even in the points. No one can understand it. You refuse to think about it any longer.

Another race weekend comes and goes. The interviewers are confused– wasn’t it just last week that you seemed so much happier than you are now? You’re surly in press conferences, answering questions in a clipped and emotionless tone. They’d say you were totally checked out were it not for the fact that you’re still getting good results.

They don’t know everything, of course, but some of the more eagle-eyed reporters are starting to put the pieces together. What’s up with you and Pierre Gasly? Someone asks one day, Weren’t you two good friends recently?

We’re drivers, you reply, Aren’t we all used to pretending things are better than they are?

When you see Pierre after that press conference, he looks dizzy, totally unsteady on his own feet. You don’t meet his eyes. You’re not sure that it’s guilt, but it feels something like that anyway. Everything is wrong.

Pierre is asked about it later, of course, and he’s a little more candid than you were. He never names names, just says that things happen sometimes, things he wishes he could take back. Pierre has to take a moment to get himself together after that to answer the next question, a fantastic display of emotion. How charming of him to wear his heart on his sleeve when he’s just ripped yours out of your chest.

The pattern repeats the next few weeks. Pierre, Charles, Lando, and Esteban try to talk to you on multiple occasions, but you brush them off with nothing more than a well-placed glare and some good avoidance tactics. Even then, you should have known that your cold shoulder couldn’t last forever.

Of course it would be Charles who gets you at last– if there’s anyone on this entire damned grid who could get why you are the way you are, it would be him. Il Predestinato knows what it’s like to have the entire world expecting something of you, and he doesn’t lie easy because of it. Charles finds you late as the sun is setting and won’t let you avoid him forever, even though you try.

At last, you give up and stop making him chase you around the paddock. You’re sitting at a table outside your motorhome, shaded by a sunbleached umbrella and sipping at a bottle of ice water long since turned lukewarm.

“He regrets it, you know,” Charles says by way of introduction.

You refuse to raise your eyes from your intense study of the bottle’s printed plastic label. “He’s going to have to do a lot better than sending his best friend to talk for him, then.”

Charles scoffs. “Oh, come on. You know you haven’t let him get close enough for that.”

Your water bottle receives a very irate glare. “Wonder why that would be.”

Charles sighs. “We were wrong, we all know that. It was a stupid thing to suggest and even more stupid to keep it up that long.”

You look at him at last, anger gone and replaced by mere disappointment. From the way Charles shifts in his seat opposite you, you think that might be an even worse threat for him to face. “Then why did you keep it going? If you knew it was so wrong? Pierre was committed to your prank for weeks. Why didn’t any of you call it quits?”

“He didn’t want to,” Charles admits, “not because of the dare, because he liked being around you. Did you know he was mad at us the day you caught us? He didn’t want us anywhere near that room. Told me privately it’s because he wanted the first kiss for himself, not for anything related to the dare.”

That makes you go silent. The fan whirs overhead, pushing your thoughts around in slow circles somewhere above you. “That makes no sense.”

“Of course it doesn’t,” Charles grumbles, “Happened, though. Regardless of what he thought at the start, Pierre doesn’t want to hurt you. Not anymore.”

You turn towards him. “Is that supposed to make how he felt at the start okay somehow?”

Charles shakes his head. “No, but it makes the ending better, I think.”

He’s right. You lean back against your seat, contemplative. Charles takes this as his cue to leave. He pauses once before he’s out of range, then calls something else back to you. “He’ll kill me if he finds out I told you that, by the way.”

You can’t fight a laugh. “I won’t tell a soul you’re on my side.”

He smiles at that. You’ve missed him, you realize, him and the rest. You thought distance would save you from feeling quite so badly about all of this, but it just cut you off from your best support. Charles disappears into the crowd, a bright flare of red in a multitude of shifting shades, and for the first time since that treacherous discovery, you start to wonder what it would feel like to forgive.

Pierre is in an awful state. So Esteban has told him about a thousand and one times, at least, each utterance delivered with the same derisive snort. Pierre knows he’s supposed to bounce back from this, pretend it was all just a prank, but he’s known better for months now. It might have been a prank the first day, even the first week, but not after that.

Here is the problem:  Pierre, in all his cocky eagerness to show his friends up, failed to consider that Y/N might be able to charm him as well. He might have gone a little overboard in his attempts to make her fall in love with him, perhaps even to the point where he fell in love instead. He isn’t sure when he first realized he had feelings for her, but Pierre is more than certain it was before Y/N discovered she felt the same way.

What a ruin to his reputation. Pierre hadn’t minded, though, not when they were still on speaking terms. He liked the way they could talk for hours, how Y/N’s guard slipped when she started to trust him. She had a way of smiling when she was sure no one was about to stab her in the back. Pierre misses that. He’s sure he’ll never see it again.

Unable to stand Esteban’s dismissive attitude anymore, Pierre picks himself up from where he’d been wallowing in misery on the floor of the Alpine motorhome. He doesn’t know where he’s going yet, only that it needs to be somewhere without a single soul in sight. Still, when he passes aimlessly through the halls and almost runs into another driver, he supposes he should take it as a testament to his distracted mind that he doesn’t realize it’s Y/N until they’re already standing still and staring at each other.

Too late, Pierre remembers she hates him. His eyes drop to the floor and he mumbles an apology, ready to keep moving. She told him not to speak to her anymore; Pierre can hardly fault her for that, and he won’t use his presence as a weapon if that’s the one that will cut her the deepest.

He is surprised, then, when Y/N reaches out to stop him before he can get too much farther. Pierre looks at her hand locked around his, then back up at her.

“Wait,” she says, “I want to talk to you.”

“I thought that wasn’t happening anymore,” Pierre says. It occurs to him that it probably sounds cold, but she speaks before he can try to explain what he meant.

“Things have changed,” she says.

That’s enough to convince him to stay, if not for the feeling of her fingers still on his than anything else. He doesn’t miss the way her gaze keeps flitting from him to the occasional Alpine aide walking down the halls, and to save her, Pierre jerks his head towards a door down the hall.

“There’s an empty room to the left, we can talk there.”

A brief flash of relief crosses her face, and Y/N lets Pierre lead her over to the room. He leaves the door open to give her an easy escape, but she closes it after her anyway. No onlookers. Maybe that’s for the best.

Y/N sits down in one of the chairs, legs crossed, arms folded. She may be here with him after so long, but that doesn’t stop her from throwing up all her walls, even the physical ones. It hurts to remember how easy it had been to be with her that last day. Pierre plays those moments on repeat in his head– the balcony, the breeze, the words, the kiss. He can never stop the later scene from following, how her demeanor had changed when she realized the truth. He didn’t think he could hurt one person that badly. He was wrong.

She’s still silent, so Pierre assumes it’s on him to start talking. “I’m sorry,” he begins, “I know that’s not enough, but it’s true. I was stupid. I should have told you before–”

Regret clogs up his throat and he can’t choke out a single syllable more. Y/N looks suspicious. “Before the kiss?”

“Before anything,” Pierre clarifies, “when we were talking at the beginning. I never should have let it get so far. Doesn’t mean I minded when it did,” he remarks half to himself, “but I should have done it on my own terms.”

When he dares look up at Y/N again, he swears she seems slightly more open, but that could just be his wishful thinking. “Do you mean what you said in the interview?” She asks suddenly, “Do you wish you could take it back?”

“Yes,” Pierre says in a rush, “I want a do over. I want to do it right. I would have done all of it without ever talking to Lando or Esteban or Charles first. I would have done it for me.” His voice is quiet. “I would have loved you without making it a lie.”

Y/N’s eyes are wide, but she isn’t afraid or angry. “Second chances come around more often than you’d think,” she whispers.

“Even for me?” Pierre asks.

She nods once. “Even for you.”

They’re both on the podium that day. His race engineers can’t explain why Pierre’s luck has suddenly had this tremendous turnaround. He can. She can, too. Sometimes your heart likes getting in the way if it knows you’re doing something wrong. It’s a good thing, then, that he’s finally doing something right.

She’s waiting for him once the interviews are over. They’re both exhausted, half drunk on the champagne in the air and wholly pleased with themselves. The sun goes down, and Pierre is happy. It is just as easy as that.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy

[ophiespeaks]

MY DRS!!!

Masterlist <3

(For inspiration, ideas, or just to get to know me!!! This is in no particular order btw, just the way they’re ordered in my Lifa App.)

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*Side note, I have a “waiting room” dr too. It’s basically just a big movie theater but all the theater rooms are my different drs. But I’ve elected to not make a full section for it.*

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•1•

Dr Name: Hogwarts, 1991.

Universe/Basis: Harry Potter

Synopsis: Non-Canonical HP dr where I get to experience the magical world completely and fully with my favorite characters. There’s no war, no plot, and things have been changed to make it more desirable for me. IE: No Death Eaters/Voldemort, no one dies, etc. It’s basically just a boarding school dr with magic lol. It was my main dr for a long time and has a LOT of little things scripted in. Honestly, I’m still so in love with it and if I ever did permashift, it would probably be here.

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•2•

Dr Name: Chosen One

Universe/Basis: Harry Potter

Synopsis: Canon-Adjacent dr where basically I’m Harry. Obviously he doesn’t exist in this dr because I’m obsessed with being the main character (/hj). Things have been scripted to not be so traumatizing and awful all the time, but will loosely follow a sort of plot to let me be the chosen one in a prophecy and basically the center of attention. There’s stakes and I don’t expect to shift here for long intervals because it seems stressful, but I’m shifting to third year with a pre-written backstory for the first two years. Again, not fully canon- certain characters don’t die and the war isn’t killing innocents etc. I just like attention.

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•3•

Dr Name: Lost

Universe/Basis: ABC’s Lost TV Series (2004)

Synopsis: Canon-Adjacent to the Lost TV series, without the um…trauma. Also people don’t die. It’s basically Survivor meets Real Housewives. I live for the drama tbh. Basically the plane crash leaves me stranded with strangers and I get to meet the characters. I don’t have a s/o but I’m looking to be an adoptive daughter figure to Sawyer because emotionally unavailable selfish assholes seem to be my father-figure go to for some reason.

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•4•

Dr Name: The 100

Universe/Basis: CW’s The 100

Synopsis: Heavily scripted but honestly it’s almost-canon to the events of seasons 1 and 2 of the 100, obviously not so traumatizing though. I’m basically using this as a teenage-run society dr or maybe like a huge camping trip dr lmao. None of the 100 die like in canon, and also because I have main character syndrome Clarke and therefore also Wells aren’t part of the original delinquent mission. My s/o is gonna be Bellamy Blake, and I have a few close friends in the 100/eventually the grounders. There’s a lot of drama lmao. Also, my dad is Markus Kane and my (adoptive) brother is Murphy and my whole backstory is so convoluted it needed rewritten multiple times to even be coherent lmao.

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•5•

Dr Name: Fame (Adult)

Universe/Basis: Better CR

Synopsis: Modern-set dr where I’m a famous actress/musician in my early twenties. I own a makeup/skincare company, as well as a non-profit community oriented foundation to teach kids the arts (acting, music, performance, dance, drawing, painting, etc.) but also hosting events and drives to give back to local communities. As for my professional career, I’m a part of some of my favorite movies/shows in my cr, as well as some movie ideas I had myself and made into a franchise in my DR. I’m basically the biggest IT girl and I’m like if Taylor Swift, Olivia Rodrigo, and Margot Robbie were a single person. Some of my films/shows, to name a few, are The VVitch, A Star Is Born, The Summer I Turned Pretty, and Barbie.

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•6•

Dr Name: Fame (Teen)

Universe/Basis: Better CR

Synopsis: An early 2010s dr, I’m a young teen actress and get to star in some of my favorite shows and movies from that time period, as well as some adaptations I thought up myself. My dad is Matthew Grey Gubler because he seems like he’d be such a cool dad, so I’m technically a Nepo baby. I play Dustin’s twin sister in Stranger Things, I play Annabeth Chase in an adaptation of PJO, I play Prim in The Hunger Games, I’m Coraline in a live action adapatation, and a few other roles that I have planned.

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•7•

Dr Name: Assemble

Universe/Basis: MCU - Young Avengers

Synopsis: I’m Tony Stark’s daughter, all the OGs don’t die, and I’m in charge of the Young Avengers. I’ve adapted some comic book characters into new heroes, as well as adding known characters like Spider-man, America Chavez, Yelena (younger in my dr), Kate Bishop, etc. It’s basically like fanfic Avengers lmao. We all live in the compound in upstate New York, and sometimes other “characters” pop in to give us training lessons and stuff such as Stephen Strange or Wong, T’Challa, Bucky, Loki, etc. It seems so fun to just have a compound full of super powered/super-capable teenagers tbh. A nightmare for my dad tho.

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•8•

Dr Name: The Olympian

Universe/Basis: MCU

Synopsis: A more canon-reliant take on an MCU dr, where I join the original Avengers back in 2011. I’m basically a greek demigoddess capable of minor feats of magic, but through being a hero I’m eventually granted full godhood (like Hercules/Heracles in the myths) for my efforts. Fighting villains and hearing the hero drama seems so interesting. Honestly, I’ll probably be less involved in this dr than my Assemble dr, but this one’s still cool if only for my backstory here alone lol.

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•9•

Dr Name: The Games

Universe/Basis: The Hunger Games

Synopsis: Basically not canon at all lmao. I don’t want to kill anyone, that’s insane. Basically, the districts still exist (though people aren’t starving or anything) and “The Games” are basically just a big game show held in the Capitol and the winner gets money, fame, etc. This dr is loosely based off of the prequel, the ballad of songbirds and snakes, so there’s *technically* Coriolanus Snow as my love interest/mentor, but his character is so different that it’s basically not even him- I just find Tom Blythe attractive is all. Also Sejanus Plinth is my bbygirl he deserved so much better.

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•10•

Dr Name: Camp Halfblood

Universe/Basis: PJO

Synopsis: Non-Canon pjo dr. I’m a child of Zeus (I need to be the main character so bad ig. Also, I need to have an absent/terrible biological father apparently?? minus tony tho 🫶) and I’m the only one in the Zeus Cabin. There’s no quests and we’re genuinely just trained over the summer and allowed to either stay or go to school for the rest of the year. It’s basically a summer camp dr but with a little magic and stuff here and there. Percy, Grover, Annabeth, etc. are all my age and eventually Percy will be my s/o because clueless boys of unimaginable power are just so babygirl to me i guess.

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•11•

Dr Name: Bridgerton

Universe/Basis: Netflix’s Bridgerton TV series

Synopsis: Mostly canon, with a few more added families and such. My own background is also a royalty dr- I’m the princess of Norway undercover as the distant relative of Lady Danbury, and I’ve got a few completely made-up love interests because no one in the show is really in my age range??? I mean some are close, like Colin, but he’s in love with Penelope so idk. I just want fancy dresses and huge parties and high society drama tbh.

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•12•

Dr Name: The Walking Dead

Universe/Basis: AMC’s The Walking Dead TV series

Synopsis: HEAVILY SCRIPTED!!! I don’t want my people to die obviously. Zombies/walkers can’t actually hurt us and everyone smells good oof. No cannibals bc ew, it’s basically a found family dr with zombies. I/we won’t have to kill people!!! Both Daryl and Rick are sort of father figures to me, and my love interests include a few people such as Carl, Enid, Ron, and Kelly (I love Kelly sm) and the later seasons are changed to be better to live in and everything’s not constantly falling apart. Also, basically scripting out all of the Negan drama and most stuff after it, because absolutely not.

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•13•

Dr Name: BrBa

Universe/Basis: AMC’s Breaking Bad TV series

Synopsis: LISTEN!!! I just think it would be fun to fuck around in this dr tbh. I’m a high-end dealer (drugs don’t kill people and don’t have a bad effect on people either) and I just want to go to lavish parties and commit high end crimes. I think Walter White is funny as hell unintentionally and Jesse Pinkman seems like the coolest person to just hang out with (at least in the first few seasons of the show.) Obviously, it’s not even remotely canon and doesn’t follow the actual plot. I also won’t spent too much time here. Like I said, it’s just to mess around in. It’s absolutely not serious nor is it a place i’d want to be for long.

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•14•

Dr Name: Narnia

Universe/Basis: The Chronicles of Narnia (films)

Synopsis: Golden Age Narnia? Ruling a magical country, marrying my best friend (Peter), leading people, being highly respected by my court? The whole thing sounds like a fairytale. It’s basically a royalty dr but with magic. Medieval times but, as with all my non-modern drs, I script modern amenities because if I don’t have toilet paper and indoor plumbing I’m gonna scream and cry. I also love the canon Pevensie siblings and their personalities I want to meet them all so bad. Also, Peter Pevensie was my first crush ever, as an fyi.

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•15•

Dr Name: LIS

Universe/Basis: Netflix’ Lost In Space reboot

Synopsis: Canon/mostly canon with fun additions and workarounds. Adoptive/found family dynamics. I get to be a super cool badass with yet another adoptive father figure while exploring alien planets and getting to be besties with penny robinson (i’m forever a penny defender- i love forgotten, “unwanted” middle child archetypes) and getting to meet a literal 7 foot tall alien robot is gonna be SO cool are you kidding me???

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•16•

Dr Name: Stardew Valley

Universe/Basis: Stardew Valley (video game)

Synopsis: CUTE FARMING DR!!! There’s twelve canonical love interests but i’m considering adding a few more options/people in general for funsies. Basically I want to have my little farm and my little animals and run around town and meet people and go to the beach and it’s gonna be so fun i’m so excited for it. I’ve actually considered it for my “waiting room” sort of place, because only the valley itself and like three other places even really exist in canon soooo but idk. (also considering scripting johnnie guilbert as sebastian bc 🤭🤭🤭)

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•17•

Dr Name: Gravity Falls

Universe/Basis: Gravity Falls

Synopsis: Teenage dr, not canon reliant but with weird occurrences and mysteries going on all around. The twins and their friends are older but most of the other characters stay the same age. Instead of having a complicated backstory I straight up just tell Stan I shifted and he’s unbothered because he literally watched his brother get sucked into a portal and fist-fought a pterodactyl so not much can phase him anymore ig.

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•18•

Dr Name: Summer Ship

Universe/Basis: Better Cr

Synopsis: Um this one’s completely made up by me, hi. Basically me and some of my dr friends are working on a private yacht for the summer. We only work like four hours a day, get paid WAY too much tbh, and then spend the weekends/after work hours getting to live on this huge ass rich people yacht that we’re allowed to go crazy on. It’s sailing the mediterranean so it doubles as a travel dr, where I get to see places like Greece, Rome, Venice, etc. when we dock and go inland. I’m so unbelievably stoked about this one tbh.

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•19•

Dr Name: Smosh

Universe/Basis: Better Cr

Synopsis: This one’s kinda embarrassing ngl 💀 so basically, the Youtube channel Smosh is this whole big brand that’s like an office completely oriented on making fun videos, sketch comedy, playing board games, etc. and it looks SO fun to work there. Some of the people in videos/crew behind the scenes seem like genuinely nice people so basically it’s a better cr dr where I just work there too, and I’m a little older lol. Like obviously it’s a job like anywhere else, but a lot of the time their job is fart jokes and playing games.

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•20•

Dr Name: Sword AF

Universe/Basis: Smosh - DnD Campaign

Synopsis: If I thought the last one was embarrassing, this takes the cake lmao. So, Smosh runs a dnd campaign where four of them play characters and then the dm plays a bunch of npcs. I’ve scripted myself as a fantasy character to explore the dr world based off of the dnd campaign’s world. Interacting with real people who are the characters my friends play in a different dr lmao. But an ancient giant wooden robot, a blue goblin, a gay elf, and a horny older halfling lady are MY comfort characters, okay! It’s a dnd dr, based off of the Sword AF campaign.

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•21•

Dr Name: A:TLA

Universe/Basis: Nickelodeon’s Avatar Cartoon

Synopsis: guys i LOVE avatar omg. uncle iroh singing little soldier boy can make me cry on command to this day. In this dr, I’m a fire bender runaway living in Omashu. I also scripted different fire nation “countries,” like how the earth kingdom has sort of different governments set-up throughout or how the water tribes have the two separate tribes on either pole. I’m from an island tribe and because I like attention, I’m a princess in that kingdom. This dr is mostly canon??? It was a cartoon so not too much traumatizing stuff happened anyways, but there are certainly some…questionable moments.

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Honorable Mentions

(drs that i *technically* have, but have put little to no thought into the actual context of and i currently have no desire to actively shift to, just future possibilities)

-“Dog Days,” a Diary of a Wimpy Kid dr (i am down BAD for rodrick heffley)

-BAU/criminal minds dr (i have no idea how i’d POSSIBLY script this to not be traumatic so for now it’s not even really a dr, just a place i may want to go???)

-“Safety” dr (without too much detail, I’m a kid again and live in a valley home with my favorite people, with neighbor kids and the whole place is filled with flowers and it’s always summer. basically just a stress-free dreamland.)

-Sam and Colby dr. (ghost hunting but i’m a medium + getting up to some utter tomfoolery in a youtuber house)

-Daybreak dr based off of the netflix show (societies run by teenagers AND zombie survival found family drs seem to be a favorite of mine, and this is both)

-“Hawkins” dr, basically stranger things without any strange things (no way am i facing a demogorgan head on, let ALONE vecna or the mind flayer are you KIDDING???)

-The Walking Dead (game), (I love Clementine so much) (I honestly might just script twdg characters into my main twd dr so I don’t have to have multiple, idk yet)

-“Royal University,” yet another royalty dr bc i’m self obsessed ig, (made up royalty heirs in a college dr)

-Hogwarts, 1971 (undecided/not scripted marauders era dr. obsessed with andrew garfield as remus lupin.)

-Hogwarts, 2011 (undecided dr of the golden-trio era’s kids from the series epilogue/*minor* elements of cursed child, teddy lupin gets to live with his parents bc i WILL start crying)

-Youtuber Dr, (Making horror content/horror-themed video essays, will be in the same sort of circle as Wendigoon, the Lore Lodge, Loey Lane, Nexpo, etc.)

-Various short-term drs to figure out what happened at certain instances in my cr. I kind of think of them as “fly on the wall” drs just for me to be in a location to fully understand what happened there. Mainly, cold cases/unexplained events. (Jonbenet Ramsey, mothman bridge incident, phoenix lights, dyatlov pass, and several missing 411 cases mostly.)

-Cool History dr, where I can go see cool historical moments for myself from my cr. such as the building of the pyramids, the library of alexandria, the “resurrection of jesus” (since he was a real person), woodstock, stonewall, etc.

———

I am always accepting more dr ideas, tbh. Any piece of media I consume is free real estate for a dr if we’re being so fr.

[mercurytrinemoon]

Random observations: (Gemini-coded) celebrity edition part 3

💫 WILL SMITH RETURNS???

Well apparently Will Smith somehow made a comeback and somehow everyone's fine with him all of a sudden? Would be surprised but astrology backs that up.

Will is a Gemini rising. What planet just ingressed into Gemini? Jupiter. We all know that Jupiter, aside from bringing luck and sometimes fame, is the most forgiving and permissive planet out of all of them. It entered his first house of the self and suddenly he's the cool guy again that everyone likes. It does help that his Sun is in the first degrees of Libra so Jupiter is also trining it.

When I was discussing the Oscar slap gate, I was mentioning how he's going through a progressed New Moon, which will make him go into hiding for a bit or be "banished" somehow. Well the New Moon has passed (although it's still relatively close to the Sun) but the progressed luminary is at least not in Scorpio anymore.

Transiting Saturn is still in his 10th house though and when it leaves Pisces, his Saturn return will start so we'll see how that will go for him.

💫 TRUMP GETS CONVICTED AND ALMOST KILLED

There's a lot to talk about the most obnoxious Gemini to exist but today we'll focus on the latest events.

Trump got convicted for felony when Mercury and Uranus conjoined in Taurus right on his MC. Saturn was also t-squaring both of his luminaries at that time (and will t-square them again when retrograde). It's very fitting as Saturn digs up events from the past, judges them and brings potential restrictions. He's also in a Saturn-ruled profection year aaaand… his natal Saturn is in the 12th house - the house of secrets, fiddles and all forms of jails.

And again, Jupiter, which is transiting the sign of his Sun is too forgiving as his court sentencing has been postponed to September (Mars will be transiting his 12th house at that time so we'll see who's going to have the upper hand here - Jupiter or Mars).

UPDATE SINCE I WROTE THE DRAFT FOR THIS POST A FEW DAYS AGO: As it turns out, Trump's MC gets another hit in a form of a Mars-Uranus-Algol conjunction. Quite literally. The assasination attemp happened just one day before the nasty conjunction and was extremely close to sensitive points in his chart. His MC is at 24° Taurus, his natal Mars is at 26° Leo (that's a square) and his ascendant at 29° Leo. On the day of the rally shooting Mars was at 25° of Taurus - barely moving away from his MC and applying with a square to his natal Mars. Uranus sits at 26° as well.

Just as a reminder: Mars rules violence, sharp objects, war, hatred and accidents while Uranus is explosive, sudden and destructive. That's enough to cause shootings and assasinations but add the fixed star Algol to the mix, which signifies violence and… beheadings, we get an extreme version of the above (and unfortunately someone did die from a shot in the head).

💫 THE ACOLYTE = VENUS CAZIMI IN GEMINI (potential Acolyte episode 1 spoilers?)

This one is my favourite. I was watching the first episode of Star Wars Acolyte and something hit me: the show came out on a Venus cazimi in Gemini and the main protagonist is a twin (!) whose supposedly dead sister emerges from hiding and turns to the dark side. It's a show about twin (Gemini) girls (Venus)! And it shows the geminian polarities: in this case of good and evil. The re-emergence is also symbolized by Venus cazimi as after the conjunction, it starts coming out of the Sun's shadow and can be seen on the sky again.

But that's not all. The twins were separated at the age of 8 and the events of the show take place 16 years later. 8 is a Venus synodic cycle, 16 is, well, two synodic cycles.

You want more? Okay, the actress playing the main protagonist and her twin, Amandla Stenberg, was born just a few days before Venus cazimi in Scorpio.

💫 MARGOT ROBBIE EXPECTING A BBY

I've just read that Margot is pregnant! It's always interesting to me what transits accompany pregnancy (spoilers: it's often Jupiter).

Margot just entered her 11th house profection year, ruled by Venus. Her natal Venus is in the first decan of Gemini and the news broke around the time when Jupiter was right on top of it. I've been mentioning Jupiter quite a lot today in terms of luck and forgiveness but let's not forget that the great benefic also grows things as it signifies fertility. And Venus is one of the significators of womanhood.

The 12th house transit is not surprising either as some themes of the house do match carrying a child: the psychology behind it, sometimes having to draw back from the world in one way or another or just changing habits; being in labour is very much a 12th house thing as well.

💫 MESSI DOWN DURING A MATCH

We're changing areas to talk about… football (I know, shocking).

Lionel Messi just suffered a major injury during the Copa America final. Messi is a Cancer Sun and he just entered his 2nd house profection year in Pisces. As we know, Pisces is currently occupied by Saturn at 19° and is squaring his Gemini Moon exact (0°11’ orb on the day of the accident). Traditionally Moon is associated with body but in his case it's even more pronounced as it rules his 6th house of injury. It's important to add that with Sun, Mercury retrograde and Mars natally in the 6th house any damages to the body are very likely in general.

Transiting Saturn is also applying with a 3° square to his natal Saturn (his ascendant ruler) in the 11th house - this is not only a pivotal moment in his life but also in the sphere of his career as a teammate (11th house). Hopefully the recovery will be quick!

[sheher-gayboy]

Up next, Barbie! As before, text copied below the cut-off ❤️

The most interesting thing about Barbie is how people talk about it and what they choose not to talk about. In a just world this is a box office hit, changes some thirteen year old's life and the rest of us go on, thinking of it occasionally whenever we see an impossibly built blonde man or a pink car. In a just world, Barbie is Die Hard for whatever the woman equivalent of that guy is.

We don't live in a just world however, and instead a movie that is better than it has any right to be (but crucially, still not amazing) is a whirlwind vortex of our culture, coming to represent everything about this moment in time. Some of this the movie invites on itself, it self evidently wanted to start some of these conversations, it wants to be talked about as a feminist piece though it never purports to be saying anything all that deep and lampoons itself for how it conveys the trite messages that it does. It's conveyed quite competently and it's all in a fun package, Robbie and Gerwig are confident in their abilities as storytellers and it's clear this is all just a stop along the road for them towards higher pursuits. God forbid this be seen as the height of anyone involved's career, everyone is putting in a good show but you can feel that they can all do better and this one is just for the hell of it.

There are good things here that are actually worth talking about and it's baffling to me how little attention is being paid to them. Ryan Gosling easily steals the show as Ken, though to be fair no one is given nearly the comedic breathing room to shine as him. The design of Barbieland is rival to the greatest of the Star Wars or Hogwarts sets, as the camera pans by it's pastel pinks you can feel the children in the audience get their first urges to create a world we could live in. Though short, the time we spend with Rhea Perlman as Ruth Handler (though, more accurately, God), is phenomenal, weaving the film in Gerwig's larger tapestry about women, memories and those that create us. Likewise too, America Ferrera's turn as every Gen X and Millennial woman ever feels more like a grounding piece, through her character we see how Gerwig is approaching the task of making a film that she must've known would be everything that it is in the public eye. Strangely, the movie feels like it has something much more emotionally resonant to say to young men, speaking personally, I could've used a message that said I didn't need to define myself by filling the boxes of the comphet lifestyle a lot earlier than I did receive it in my life.

I don't only have praise of course, I feel that the appeal to small familial emotions is Gerwig stunting herself and repeating the emotional cores of her previous films while not having anything new to say on these points. The film plays with queerness but not in any way that can rallied behind, it's as if the movie is somehow gay best friending the entire queer audience. Finally, as I said, it all feels a little trite. I suppose there's room for this sort of messaging, it's not like we're in a post-sexism world and there's always someone who's hearing this stuff for the first time (I guess I assumed there weren't quite so many adults who hadn't heard it before though).

Overall, I want to see Margot Robbie in things that challenge her and I want Greta Gerwig to make things that challenge us and yes, Ryan Gosling needs more comedy roles. The principal take away is that it's a god damn shame we'll never get The Nice Guys 2.

[angstyandromanticwriting]

Margot Robbie X Fem!Reader Angsty, Cute and Fluffy Imagine Prompt

!TW: Mention of previously attempting to commit suicide, implied suffering from depression, hints of separation anxiety + anxiety in general, self put-down(s) + elements of self-doubt, mention of having a poor relationship with family + being previously treated badly by them, swearing, injury detail, mention of wanting to die, implied previous sexual occurrence + sexual occurrence(s) in general, grief + death of a family member, self-harm intentions + self-harming, blood, being unconscious/falling unconscious, mention of previously having a near-death experience - if I’ve missed any, let me know ❤️!

“I’ll probably need something stronger than this,” you mused, after Margot had set down a glass of water on the table located on the other side of your hospital bed, before she sat back down beside it on the opposite side, “you’re planning on questioning me, right?”

“Maybe just a bit,” she answered truthfully, and you would wince, a pained expression on your face; she’d - not too long ago now - found you within your apartment attempting to rather gruesomely take your own life, feeling as if you deserved it to happen that way - and you would begin to feel guilty when you noticed that she still appeared to be somewhat shaken after seeing you the way she had, “just - promise me something, before I start.”

“Anything,” you replied, and she would faintly smile over at you, before intertwining the fingers of her shaky right hand with the somewhat paler fingers of your left one.

“Promise me you won’t lie to me anymore,” she requested, and you would falter, your eyes beginning to glisten a little whilst small tears began to invade them.

“Lie to you-? When have I ever lied to you?” You inquired, and she would frown, wishing you’d not play dumb after what you’d tried to do a few hours ago, now.

“You’ve lied to me every day,” she reminded you, and you would appear guilty again, your heart sinking a little whilst you stared ahead of you with a hurt look on your face; you had only been doing it because you didn’t want her to worry about you; didn’t want to get in her way anymore, “at least once - so you can start by not telling me that you’re okay, when you’re far from okay, because I wanna help you, Y/n; you’re my best friend, and if I lost you, I - I honestly don’t know what I’d do; I-..”

She would then hastily silence herself, before she could say anymore, whilst you were looking over at her again, a longing and hopeful expression on your face which would soon fade away once you’d heard her refer to you as her ‘best friend’, though you weren’t sure why - perhaps it was because you wanted to be more to her, and always had? “You’d be fine without me,” you mustered, whilst staring ahead of you dejectedly again, and allowing your tears - with great reluctance - to stream down your cheeks, “and don’t try and deny it; you don’t need to, because I know it’s true - I mean, look at me.” You would gesture to yourself, with a disdainful look on your face; you’d always hated yourself, and the poor way in which your family had treated you, before, only fuelled that hate you’d always felt.

Margot would frown, a hurt look on her face; she wished you could see yourself the way that she saw you, as she’d always seen you to be what she’d always believed that you were, ever since she’d first met you: perfect. “That’s not true,” she contradicted, “and what about you? You’re amazing, Y/n; perfect - you don’t give yourself enough credit, at all, when you really should, because your family was wrong about you, please tell me you know that.”

You would hesitate, as if you didn’t know, prompting her heart to feel as if it were sinking a little; she hated seeing you like this. “They weren’t wrong, at all,” you murmured, “everything they said about me was true-”

“No, it wasn’t,” she interjected gently, “don’t - don’t ever think that; they were just jealous of you, and of how talented you are.”

You would be surprised, glancing back at her whilst your eyes began to glint a little. “You-.. You actually think I’m talented?” You mused, and Margot would nod hastily without hesitation, whilst she smiled warmly back at you, prompting your heart to skip a beat, as well as to begin to race blissfully alongside her’s; she’d always had that effect on you, and you loved it, but not as much as you loved her, and had ever since you’d both first met at the college you’d both attended together.

“Of course I do,” she answered, “and I’m sure it’s not just me who thinks you are.” You couldn’t help, but allow your smile to grow somehow even more than it already had; she always knew how to cheer you up whenever you felt as if you were verging on breaking down. “Shit,” she murmured, remembering she had a meeting to get to which would be starting soon, “I should-” She would hastily check her watch, whilst you tried to hide your dejection; you hated being alone, and most of all away from her. “Yeah, I should go,” she murmured, a pained expression on her face, before she smiled sadly over at you, and carefully wrapped her arms around you; she didn’t want to leave you alone, either, unbeknownst to you, especially after you’d tried to take your life again, and the reminder would prompt her to falter, and hold you at arm’s length for a moment. “Don’t do anything stupid whilst I’m gone - in fact, promise me you won’t; t-that - that you’ll still be here when I get back,” she requested, her voice briefly trembling whilst she did, and you would nod faintly, whilst finding yourself gradually getting lost in her stunning icy blue eyes, prompting you to begin stammering a little whilst you tried to recover from your racing heart which was currently overwhelming you, and the urge you were trying to fight back to spill out your feelings for her; to lean forward and connect your lips to her’s - something you’d been longing to do for years.

“I’ll still be here when you get back,” you mustered, “I - I promise, but - you don’t have to come back, if you’re too tired, o-or - I dunno.. just - go back home, if you’d rather do that - don’t waste your time on me, especially when you don’t want to-”

“Hey,” she cooed gently, and you would fall quiet, getting lost in her eyes again, “you know I love wasting my time on you, don’t you?”

“I suppose I do,” you answered, and she would grin back at you, amused, “I have no clue why, though, I mean..” Her smile would fade away again, prompting your heart to sink a little; you hated seeing her upset, and wished you could be different, for her. “Don’t worry about it,” you continued timidly, and she would hesitate, wary of the time, before begrudgingly getting up after hugging you once more, “s-see you later, o-or - whenever, really.”

“See you later,” she reassured, before dragging herself out of the room, though she’d rather stay with you, and as soon as she’d gone, you would feel empty again, alongside her, anticipating every passing hour which would eventually lead to you seeing her again, for the best moments you’d ever had always turned out to be the ones that you experienced beside her.

🜚

Once she finally had returned, you would lighten up again, as if you hadn’t been feeling empty, and as if you hadn’t been feeling lost just a moment ago, before she’d walked through the door, and beamed over at you, making your heart begin to race again in the best way possible whilst you smiled shyly back at her, and your eyes glinted alongside her’s whilst she sat beside you again, and leaned over to wrap her arms around you. You would instantly return the hug, melting into her embrace, before you buried your face into her left shoulder, feeling warm and fuzzy all of a sudden. “I missed you,” you blurted out, unable to stop yourself, and Margot would appear flattered, as well as a little flustered, but she would try and hide it whilst she smiled warmly back at you again, resting her head on your left shoulder.

“I missed you, too,” she expressed, “sorry I took so long; I would have tried to leave sooner, but-”

“It’s okay,” you reassured, and she would express relief; she had been worried, and wasn’t sure why, “you’re here, now, and that’s all that matters.”

You would then wince, upon feeling that the thumb of your right hand was stinging a little bit again, and she would appear worried again, noticing that you seemed uncomfortable, and to be in pain. “You okay-? Do you want me to move?” She inquired, and you would shake your head hastily, before appearing embarrassed, blood instantly beginning to rush to your cheeks, prompting her to have to try and fight back a smirk.

“N-No, it’s not you,” you managed, your voice barely audible, and she would tilt her head partially, “it’s just my thumb; I got a paper-cut earlier whilst I was reading.”

She would express relief again, before appearing elated for a moment, as if she’d remembered something, and reaching for her bag. “I think I have band-aids in my purse, if you want one-?” She offered, and you would be surprised, not sure; you didn’t want her to feel as if she had to give you anything, or to try to help you.

“No, it’s okay,” you answered, “you don’t have to do that for me.”

“I know,” she replied, before smiling warmly over at you again, prompting you to forget how to breathe for a moment, “but I want to - show me your hand.” You would nod, before timidly showing her your right hand, and she would carefully apply the band-aid over the paper-cut you’d received, and you couldn’t help, but admire her, prompting you to blush even more prominently than you had, before; you were certain you’d never - for all the years you’d both known one another, and been friends - seen anyone more, or even as beautiful as her; everything about her had always been perfect, and this thought would prompt you to appear dejected again - why was she still here with you, when she was, and had always been everything better than you were? She deserved a better ‘best’ friend than you, for sure, and you knew she’d probably never feel the same way for you, anyway. “You still love staring, don’t you?” She teased, and you would falter, beginning to panic a little whilst you quickly bowed your head, and looked around the room as if you hadn’t been staring at her for a good couple or so minutes. She would then lean a little closer to you, and you would tense up, whilst your heart began to pound overwhelmingly, and you wondered if she could hear it, even finding yourself silently wishing she could. “Any reason why?” She pried, and you would shrug, finding yourself unable to speak, for a moment, and she would try and hide that your action had disheartened her a little. She would then sit back a little, and you would try and hide that you - too - were disappointed and saddened by the new gap between you both. “Your thumb should stop stinging, soon,” she stated, and you would nod gravely, forcing a smile up at her, but it would soon become genuine - all you had to do to prompt a smile to take control of your lips was look at her, and she would smile softly back at you. She would then remember the question she’d been desperate to ask you, ever since she’d found you in the bloody state that you had been, and taken you to the hospital - why? “Hey, um,” she began again, her voice close to a whisper, at first; she was afraid of it trembling, evidently, before she bowed her head a little, and began to fidget with her hands; she was worried about how you might react, and answer the question; worried that she’d been the one to prompt you to do this, though she wasn’t sure why, at first, “can-.. can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can,” you answered, before shyly intertwining the fingers of your left hand with the slightly shaky fingers of her right one, worrying you a little whilst you anticipated what her question might be, “I-.. I owe you a ton of explanations, so - fire away.”

“I just wanted to know - why? Why did you do it?” She managed, her voice briefly trembling whilst she did, and you would frown, beginning to feel guilty again. “If I did something to upset you, I - I’m so sorry, I really am - I didn’t mean it, whatever it was-”

“No,” you mustered, “don’t, Margot-”

“I just feel awful for it - t-tell me what I did and I swear I’ll never do it again; I can’t lose you,” she expressed shakily, fighting back her tears to the best of her ability, without any success, and strained sobs were even threatening to escape her; she was on the verge of breaking down, and you couldn’t help, but hate yourself for what you were doing to her, “I can’t, b-because - because I love you, Y/n, and I can’t do this without you-..” You would appear surprised, and a little in shock; you couldn’t believe it; you couldn’t believe that she - someone who had always been everything compared to the nobody that you believed yourself to be - felt the same way for you, whilst your heart began to pound again, and you felt as if you were drowning in elation, for a moment, until you remembered who you were, and would appear crestfallen again, worrying her even further. “I can’t even begin to imagine my life without you in it,” she continued, “a-and when I saw you lying on the bathroom floor, c-covered in blood, I-.. I really thought.. I really thought that I’d-.. lost you, and I didn’t know what to do; I was terrified, a-and I’ve never felt that way, before.” You would nod gravely, whilst you stared ahead of you, your vision blurred by your invading tears; you just wanted your heart to stop beating; wanted the pain to stop. “I love you, Y/n, and I’d never be able to forgive myself if I hurt you, s-so - tell me what I did,” she begged, and you would bow your head again, staring down at your right hand, and the band-aid on your thumb.

You couldn’t help, but smile, upon noticing it; it was another way in which she had been trying to heal you, and build you back up again, like she had been ever since she’d first met you; she’d still not given up on you. Why? You would then draw in a shaky breath; you couldn’t believe it; you just couldn’t - someone as perfect as her with a nobody like you? No way. “It wasn’t your fault,” you managed barely audibly, and she would hesitate, doubtful, “it’s all me; my stupid head, and thoughts; my stupid heart, wanting someone way out of my league; my stupid, but probably right family-”

“Wait,” she mustered thoughtfully, a hurt look on her face, and you would fall quiet, before timidly glancing over at her, and you would falter again when you noticed the tears that were currently streaming down her cheeks, prompting your heart to sink, “out of your league? Seriously? Y/n-”

“It’s true,” you insisted, whilst she shook her head hastily, “I’m not good enough for you-”

“You are,” she contradicted, “you always have been, and always will be, n-nothing could ever change the way I feel about you, I swear-”

“You deserve better than me,” you managed, “you always have-”

“S-Stop saying stuff like that,” she pleaded, wishing you’d stop putting yourself down like you currently were, but you looked as if you were about to continue, prompting her to lean forward again, and to delicately connect her lips to your’s, resulting in you falling quiet, and instantly melting into the kiss. Once it had sadly ended, and you found yourself wearing a dazed expression on your face whilst she affectionately connected her forehead to your’s, you would revel in the feeling of butterflies fluttering around in your stomach, and the strange warm and fuzzy feeling you were currently experiencing whilst she giggled softly, amused by your reaction, and used her right hand to play with your hair blissfully, making you feel even better, somehow. “I’ve wanted to do that for years,” she admitted, and you couldn’t help, but smirk back at her, whilst your eyes locked with her’s in the best way possible, “e-ever since we went on that trip together - remember it?”

“I could never forget it,” you mused, whilst you began to recall it as if it had happened yesterday, rather than quite a few years ago, now, whilst she buried her face into the crook of your neck, “it was-..”

•

You couldn’t help, but smile whilst visions of you and Margot sneaking away from the group who were currently together throwing a party blissfully invaded your mind, and then you would giggle softly, remembering how you’d both gotten drunk, that night, and went swimming together in the lake you’d both discovered, and you would then recall that the kiss had seemed somewhat familiar to you; it even - once you began to remember this particular night - prompted you to recall how - whenever you’d been longing to kiss her, after that day - it felt almost as if you were missing kissing her, though you’d had no recollection of doing so. You would try and dig deeper into the memory, but it all grew to be a blur once you recalled how you’d both spent some time chasing one another, occasionally splashing each other, before you pretended to drown just to get her to rescue you, which she did without hesitation, cradling you close to her in the water whilst you pretended to splutter a little, burying your face blissfully into her left shoulder whilst she cooed words of encouragement to you, and tried to provide comfort to you by stroking your hair with her free right hand. “You’re okay, now,” she whispered, whilst trying not to giggle; she had thought that your reaction to her wrapping her arms around your waist was funny, as well as adorable, evidently, “don’t worry, Flounder - I’ve got you, and I’m never gonna let you go until you want me to, I promise.”

“No,” you whined barely audibly, “I don’t ever want you to let me go.” You would then appear puzzled, before being forced out of the memory; you had clearly forgotten what had happened, after that, and would wonder if Margot had forgotten, too, but the flustered expression currently residing on her face suggested otherwise; you both had to have done something, that night - you just didn’t know what, yet.

“Wait,” you began nervously, and Margot would lower her gaze a little, evidently flustered again, “that night - did we-?”

“We might have,” she mused, “I mean - we were both drunk, so-.. yeah.”

“I must have been drunker than you, considering I can’t remember - that part, at all,” you remarked, and Margot would smirk over at you, amused by your reaction.

“Are you jealous?” She inquired, and you would appear to be taken off guard, your eyes widening a little, prompting her to giggle. “Don’t worry,” she cooed, before wrapping her arms around you again carefully, “next time - we most likely won’t be as drunk, so you’ll probably remember it happening.” You would then appear flustered, alongside her, but she was doing a better job of hiding it, than you were. “I love you so much,” she whispered, and you couldn’t help, but smile lovingly back at her, before you shyly leaned forward to delicately connect your lips to her’s, “and I always will, no matter what - don’t ever forget that, okay?”

“I love you, too,” you returned, before burying your face blissfully into the crook of her neck, “and it will only ever be you for me, I promise.” You would then notice that she appeared to be a little sleepy, prompting you to feel a little guilty, and as if you’d been keeping her awake. “You look tired,” you pointed out, and Margot would wince, before shaking her head gravely, “if you wanna go back home-”

“No,” she whined, “I wanna stay here, with you - could I.. maybe - sleep on your shoulder, for a little while?”

You would smile warmly over at her, whilst wondering what you’d done to deserve someone as perfect and adorable as her. “Of course you can,” you answered, and she would express relief, as well as elation whilst she rested her head carefully upon your left shoulder whilst trying to avoid where you’d been bandaged up; she didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, “I was made to serve you, anyway, so you don’t have to ask me next time, silly.” She would appear flustered again, before giggling softly whilst you used your left hand to play with her soft hair blissfully. “H-Hey,” you began again shyly, and she would hum quietly to show she was listening, “I just wanted to say - t-thank you, for everything that you’ve done for me; I probably wouldn’t be here, if it weren’t for you-.. Well.. No, I wouldn’t, b-because.. it was you who saved me.” You couldn’t help, but smile faintly over at her again, whilst blood rushed to your cheeks, and she would smirk when she noticed that you had begun to blush. “You’re too good to me,” you mused, “you always have been, a-and you’ve honestly - ever since I first met you - made my life so much better than it was, before.”

“I’m glad,” she replied, “because you’ve made my life better than it was, before, too, and of course you think I’m too good for you, ‘cause I wanna do everything I possibly can to repay you for making me happier than I was, before.”

“You don’t have to repay me,” you reassured, “you know that, right? You’re already repaying me by being here, a-and somehow loving me, the way I love you - it should be me repaying you, not the other way around.”

“Not at all,” she contradicted gently, “because guess what? You repay me by being here, and loving me, too; I don’t want anything more than that, just you.”

You would appear flustered, for a moment, as well as relieved, and content, wondering what you’d done to deserve a moment as perfect as this; someone as kind, and amazing as she had always been, when you believed she deserved so much better than you, and always had. “You may think that’s true, but - you’re never gonna stop me from spoiling you,” you remarked, and she would lift an eyebrow, whilst smirking over at you again.

“In that case, you’ll never be able to stop me from spoiling you,” she replied, and you would wince, before nodding gravely, and giving in; you knew she’d probably never back down, and you were right, “goodnight, daydreamer.” You would smile softly upon hearing the nickname; she must have just remembered it, after recalling that night you’d both possibly done something together on the college camping trip.

“Goodnight, Boo,” you returned shyly, before resting your head comfortably on top of her’s, and hesitantly letting your eyes close alongside her’s, though you couldn’t stop thinking about how you feared you’d only become even more of a burden on her after she’d saved you, and also feared that you’d only upset her, and couldn’t help, but think that she should still try and find someone better than you, until you finally managed to fall asleep, and avoided nightmares no doubt because of Margot being beside you, making you feel safe, warm, and more content than you had ever been before, filling your mind instead with only dreams of her, and your and her possible upcoming future together.

~-~

Once you’d finally been released from the hospital, Margot would insist that you live with her, evidently worried that she might walk into your apartment one day to find that you had attempted to take your life again; terrified, even, and to try and relax her, you would accept her invitation, and would smile softly when you noticed the relieved, and elated look on her face; she’d been waiting for this moment for a while, now; to finally be able to live with you, and not apart from you like she previously had been, with you staying in your apartment, and she in her own home, and you - unbeknownst to her - had been hoping you’d be able to live with her, too, for a while now alongside her; you hated being away from her, and this was why you often struggled to try and keep composure whilst she wasn’t with you, either alone at home, or out trying to find work for yourself, always unsuccessfully, and it pained you every day to have to tell her that nothing had worked out once she’d returned to you, but she didn’t blame you; she couldn’t; she loved you too much to, like you loved her too much to, too, and didn’t want you to have to worry about how she might react to the failed search.

On another of these occasions, she would return home to find you crying at the kitchen table, with your face buried into your hands whilst you sniffled into them, sobbed softly, and occasionally cursed yourself for being the way that you were. “Y/n-?” She cooed, and you would falter, quickly looking away from her after you’d lowered your hands; you didn’t want to upset her by showing her that you were crying, so you would try and act as if nothing was wrong, hastily wiping your eyes, tear-stained cheeks, though she already knew that you had been crying, and would wear a pained expression on her face; she hated seeing you like this, and just wanted to see you happy again. “Hey,” she continued gently, before rushing up to you, and throwing her arms around you, and you would instantly melt into her embrace, whilst you returned the hug, and buried your face into the crook of her neck, “talk to me - what’s wrong?”

“N-Nothing,” you claimed shakily, your voice close to a whisper, and she would frown, shaking her head gravely, before she held you at arm’s length, wishing you’d stop lying to her, “I’m fine; I’m just tired-”

“Don’t lie, please,” she begged, and her now glistening eyes were begin to plead with your own, whilst you felt your heart beginning to ache; you hated upsetting her, “just tell me; I want to help you - you can’t take on all of this alone, Y/n; you just can’t.”

“I can,” you contradicted, and she would shake her head hastily, “I’ve done it before-”

“Yeah - And you then tried to take your own life, remember?” She reminded you dejectedly, and you would frown, before nodding gravely, and bowing your head. She would then feel guilty, before sitting down on the chair beside the one you were perched upon, allowing her to hold both of your currently trembling hands comfortingly within her’s, prompting you to smile softly up at her whilst your heart began to race blissfully, alongside her’s. “L-Look,” she began again softly, “I just want-.. want to do all I can for you, daydreamer - you know that, right?” You would nod, not sure why she was bothering; you were sick of her wasting her time on you like she was, feeling as if she should just dump you like your family had. “I want you to be happy, again,” she continued, and you would nod again, “I love you, a-and - and you can tell me anything, you know that, right?”

“I know,” you managed, your voice close to a whisper, and she would express relief, glad; she had been worried that maybe you didn’t; that you’d forgotten, “I just.. I.. I don’t wanna get in your way; don’t want to upset you anymore-”

“Hey,” she cooed, “d-don’t - don’t ever think that you’re in my way, because I’m happy to be doing everything that I do for you - more than happy, in fact, and you’ve never upset me, I swear, n-never, except for the times you tried to take your life, but.. other than those times, you’ve never upset me.”

You would be surprised, as well as feeling guilty again, to hear that your suicide attempts had upset her. “But-”

“No,” she interjected gently, “no buts, Y/n; I love you, okay? And nothing will ever change that, I promise - you’ve never done anything wrong; you could never do anything wrong, so don’t ever worry about that - and don’t ever think you have to worry about how I might see you, because you are, and have always been perfect to me, and you always will be.” She would then shyly lean forward a little, and you would begin to feel overwhelmed again in the best way possible, whilst your heart pounded against your rib cage again, and you found yourself struggling to breathe. “Can I-.. kiss you?” She requested, and you would nod, prompting her to beam over at you, her eyes glinting, before she leaned even closer and delicately connected her lips to your’s, and you would instantly melt into the kiss. It would then soon begin to deepen, and she would then wrap her arms around you again, whilst you clung to her shoulders, and as soon as the kiss had sadly ended, you would giggle breathlessly alongside her whilst she connected her forehead to your’s affectionately, and began to stroke your hair with her right hand. “I love you so much,” she whispered, and you would begin to feel warm and fuzzy again.

“I love you, too,” you returned, whilst your heart soared alongside her’s, “I’ve never-.. felt this way before.”

“I’ve never felt this way before, either,” she admitted, “it’s all - new. Wanna know something?”

“Of course,” you answered, and she would appear flustered, for a moment, whilst blood began to rush to her cheeks; she was evidently finding that whatever she was thinking was incredibly cheesy, and she couldn’t help, but giggle again, prompting you to join her; her laugh was blissfully infectious.

“I’m - so glad I met you,” she expressed, “a-and - I honestly don’t know what I’d do, if I’d never spoken to you that day; I can’t imagine my life without you in it, at all, so - promise me something.”

“Anything,” you replied, whilst you shyly lifted your right hand up to her left cheek, prompting her to melt into your touch subconsciously.

“Promise me you’ll never try and-.. y’know.. take your life again,” she mustered, and you would falter, prompting her heart to sink in response to your hesitation.

You would frown, noticing the pained expression on her face, before hastily nodding; you didn’t wanna upset, or worry her again. “I’ll never do it again, I promise,” you reassured, “I love you, Margot - s-so much, and I’m so sorry, I really am - I should never have done it, I know, I just..”

You would then find yourself trying not to cry again, and she would shake her head, before easing you closer to her so she could cradle you, and close the remaining gaps between you both, soothing you instantly. “It’s okay,” she cooed, “don’t worry - I get it, I really do, but I’m gonna try and do more to help you, this time-”

“No,” you whined, “you shouldn’t have to do that for me-”

“I want to,” she reassured, “don’t worry, daydreamer; I’m happy doing what I do for you, remember? And I always will be.” She would then delicately connect her lips to your’s again, and you would smile softly against her lips, before the kiss grew to deepen again, and she would carefully pick you up, finding it a little easier than she had thought it would be, before, as you were a little shorter than her. You would giggle softly, prompting her to join you, evidently amused by your reaction to her carrying you out of the room, and slowly up the stairs to your and her bedroom.

🜸🜚🜸

Though you seemed to be doing well with keeping your promise to her for a couple or so weeks, you found yourself struggling again as soon as you had received a call from your mother to say that your aunt - the family member who you’d been the closest to - had passed away the night before, and you would falter, staring ahead of you for a moment whilst you began to panic; the fact that you’d never see her, or ever be able to talk to her again would hit you like a ton of bricks, and weigh down your heart instantly. You would then hastily end the call, before shakily setting down your phone, and leaning heavily against the kitchen counter; you’d been preparing coffee, after you’d had a relatively sleepless night, but all thoughts of it had instantly slipped from your mind, whilst you breathed heavily; shakily, and tears clouded your vision. You would then find yourself longing for Margot to come back, terrified; you felt so lost, all of a sudden, and as if you could have a heart attack; it was beating so fast - too fast, and you couldn’t calm yourself down, silently begging for her to suddenly walk through the front door, but she wouldn’t be back until later that day, disheartening you as a strained sob managed to escape your lips whilst you doubled over, and began to cry helplessly, unable to hold it back any longer. It was excruciating - knowing that someone who had been so close to you before; one of your best friends, had been there a few days ago, a few years ago, and now they were gone, as if none of the memories made meant anything; weren’t significant in the slightest. You remembered how, after your family had kicked you out, your aunt had offered you a place to stay in her own home, and you often confided in her about many things you’d been too afraid to tell anyone else: about you realising you were a lesbian, about your feelings for Margot not long after you’d met her whilst you both were going to college together, and about how you’d often been considering suicide whenever your depression hit it’s peak again. You would then, whilst you began to feel nauseous, dizzy, and faint, reach for your phone, but you found you couldn’t pick it up, feeling much too numb to do anything, and would give up trying as soon as you began to remind yourself of how Margot would probably be busy, prompting you to feel guilty, and to curse yourself for what you were trying to do; you didn’t want to burden her anymore, and would - whilst you began to doubt yourself again - wonder why she was still with you, especially after you’d still not found any other parts to play, prompting you to grimace, and shake your head gravely whilst you began to feel worthless again, before you dragged yourself out, taking your bag and a razor with you; you didn’t want to do what you were planning on doing within the house, knowing it would feel like you were breaking the promise you’d made to her if you did, and you couldn’t do that; you’d never forgive yourself if you tried, and that would only make things worse than they already had gotten in the matter of a few brief, and painful moments.

🜚

You had - after leaving a few cuts along your arms within one of the bathroom stalls of the closest bars to the house - briefly passed out, and would be surprised to wake up within an intensely bright room, and once your vision began to clear, you would realise that you were most definitely within one of the rooms of a hospital, and you would groan, guessing someone must have begun to worry about you, and gotten someone to break into the stall to get you out, and to a hospital as soon as they noticed the blood stains on your sleeves.

You would then find yourself aware of a buzzing sound to your left, and you would manage - barely - to turn your head in that direction, though you felt quite weak, and still quite numb after everything that had happened, only to find that it was your phone, and you would falter when you realised that Margot was calling you; she must have returned home to find you no longer there, and begun to worry; you’d promised her you would be there once she had got back, and evidently weren’t, prompting you to feel guilty, especially when you looked down at your bandaged arms, and were reminded of what you had done. You would then test your left arm by moving it a bit, and you would wince; it stung a little, but you would manage to fight the pain back enough for you to reach your phone, accept the call, and hold it up to your left ear; you couldn’t allow yourself not to answer, and not to try and reassure her that everything was okay; that she didn’t have to worry, and that you’d be back home soon. “Y/n-!” She chimed, as soon as you’d finally answered the call; she must have been trying to reach you for a while now, and you would frown, a pained expression on your face; you were sick of worrying her, and upsetting her all the time, and wished she’d just give up on you, and find someone better than you, though you knew it would hurt excruciatingly to lose her, after everything you’d both been through together, and everything you’d been dreaming of possibly happening for you both, like possibly getting married - something you’d dreamt of for years, ever since you’d first met her. “Thank God,” she mustered, her voice briefly trembling, and close to a whisper, prompting tears to invade your eyes again, “I thought-.. are you okay? W-Where are you?”

You would think about what you had been planning on telling her, but would instantly crumble; you couldn’t lie to her anymore; it would break you, and you were certain you couldn’t take anymore pain, or guilt; you couldn’t hurt her, or worry her anymore than you evidently already had. “I’m in the hospital,” you admitted, and she would falter, a pained expression on her face whilst she began to imagine the worst; that you must have tried to take your life again, though you’d promised her you wouldn’t, or that someone had hurt you, somehow, if you did end up going out, for a bit, like you had told her that you might.

“The hospital? W-Why? Hang on, I’m on my way-”

“No-!” You cried, feebly, and she would hesitate, falling quiet. “I - I’m okay, Margot, I swear,” you claimed, but she would appear doubtful, “they’re gonna let me go, soon, I promise; I just saw a fight, and - you know what I’m like - the sight of blood makes me pass out, a-and-.. when I woke up, I was suddenly - well, here; someone must have brought me here after I blacked out, but don’t worry - I’ll be back home soon, and I’m in perfect condition, last time I checked.”

There would be silence, for a moment, and it was painful, especially after you heard her sniffling faintly, prompting your heart to sink; she knew you were lying, unbeknownst to you, but she didn’t want to question you - not yet; she’d wait, until she got to you. “You promise?” She inquired, and you would nod subconsciously.

“I promise,” you answered, “s-see you in a bit.”

She would hesitate, not wanting to hang up, yet, but she would remind herself that she’d be seeing you soon, once the call was over, and she’d begun her journey to the hospital. “See you,” she returned, before forcing herself to end the call, and hastily grabbing her coat, before she rushed out to her car, whilst you stared tearfully up at the ceiling, your phone laying upon your lap; you could never deserve someone as good as her, you reminded yourself, and your heart would ache even more excruciatingly than it had, before, but you would try not to cry again, no matter how much the tears fought to escape; you believed you deserved the pain, and never the release of it - not anymore.

🜚

Once the doctors had finally decided that you could leave, after they’d examined you, and given you some advice you believed to be pointless, you would hastily walk toward the entrance, and falter when you noticed Margot just coming through the door, when she noticed you. “Oh, hey-!” You mustered, and Margot wouldn’t waste another second, rushing up to you. “You’re here-” She would then throw her arms around you, and you would instantly melt into her embrace whilst you relaxed, and returned the hug.

“Of course I am,” she cooed shakily, and you would frown, guessing that she was trying not to cry again, prompting you to hold her at arm’s length, and you would feel your heart sinking, whilst you began to feel guilty again upon noticing the tears that were currently running down her cheeks.

“Don’t cry,” you whined, a pained expression on your face, and she would wince, hastily wiping away her tears with her right hand, “I hate it when you cry; seeing you cry always makes me wanna cry, and me crying is far from pretty.”

She couldn’t help, but giggle faintly, before shaking her head a little. “That’s far from true,” she contradicted, and you would be surprised, “you’re always pretty, Y/n, even when you’re crying.”

“Really-?” You inquired, and she would nod hastily, evidently certain of herself that you were.

“No doubt about it,” she insisted, before carefully wrapping her arms around your waist, and you would smile lovingly over at her, before affectionately connecting your forehead to her’s, “so-.. this - fight - that you saw - where was it?” She couldn’t help, but think about what your method might have been to try and take your life, this time, and it would prompt her heart to ache excruciatingly again whilst she thought back to the night she’d found you close to death in your apartment, the first time.

•

“No,” she cooed shakily, whilst she relocated your left hand back up to the wound you’d made on your left side, and you would groan, shaking your head; you didn’t want her to help you, after everything you’d done; you believed she would be better off without you, and that - if she let you go - she wouldn’t be held back by you anymore, “just keep pressure on it, okay? The ambulance will be here soon, and they’ll make sure you’re good as new again-”

“Why are you doing this?” You questioned, your voice barely audible, and quite weak, prompting her heart to sink; she was terrified of losing you, and had been harbouring feelings for you for years, now, like you had for her ever since you’d first met her, unbeknownst to her.

“Because-.. I just - I can’t let you die, Y/n,” she answered, a hurt look on her face, and you would appear a little dejected, “why - why are you even asking me something like that? You’re my best friend; everything to me, a-and I honestly can’t imagine my life without you in it, so - please don’t move your hand, j-just for now; you’ve already lost too much blood, and can’t afford to lose anymore.” You would nod gravely, finding yourself stuck on the fact that she’d referred to you as her ‘best friend’, though you weren’t sure why, when you knew that that was probably all you’d ever end up being, to her. You would then wince, hearing the sirens of the ambulance approaching, whilst Margot expressed relief, evidently glad. “You’re gonna be okay, now,” she cooed, carefully cradling you close to her, and you would nod gravely, whilst melting into her embrace, and managing a soft smile; you felt safe within her hold, and as if you weren’t in excruciating pain anymore, “feel like you can stand up with me, or?” You would appear nervous, before nodding, and she would carefully help you to your feet, but you would soon appear unstable again, prompting her to lift you off of the ground, and carry you out of your apartment as fast as she could herself, to make things easier, and to get you out to the ambulance faster; she couldn’t let you lose anymore blood than you already had; couldn’t lose you, and luckily - she would manage to get you to it just in time, before you could fall unconscious, and possibly never wake up again.

“Where-?” You mused, your voice close to a whisper, and she would nod, whilst you tried not to panic, trying to think of something you could say; you were terrified of her finding out about what you did; that you’d left a few cuts along both of your arms, and not seen a fight, at all. “Just - o-outside,” you mustered, and Margot would frown, shaking her head gravely, wishing you’d just admit that you’d lied again, and had tried to take your life.

“Y/n-”

“I was - was going to go to the shops, a-and-”

“Stop, daydreamer,” she interjected gently, and you would falter, whilst tears began to invade your eyes, and your heart began to ache, “I know you’re lying to me, just-.. tell me what happened, please - why? Why would you try and do that, again?”

You would hesitate, before nodding gravely, knowing you couldn’t try and lie again. “My aunt,” you answered dejectedly, your voice close to a whisper, and Margot would tilt her head partially, appearing worried, “she’s-.. she’s gone.. my mother called me to tell me that it happened last night.”

Margot would realise, and begin to feel guilty instantly for trying to question you whilst she eased you closer to her, and began to stroke your hair with her right hand to try and provide comfort to you. “I’m so sorry,” she expressed, “that’s horrible - w-why didn’t you call me? I would’ve come straight back home.”

“I thought about it, but-..” You began again, whilst Margot affectionately connected her forehead to your’s again. “I don’t know,” you murmured, “I felt so-.. lost, and empty - after it happened, and I didn’t wanna burden, or upset you, too, s-so instead.. I guess I just.. decided to.. punish myself, for even thinking about getting you involved, and getting in your way again.”

She would frown, whilst a pained expression crossed her face, and her eyes began to fill with tears again. “You wouldn’t have gotten in my way by calling me, and telling me what happened, Y/n,” she contradicted, “I would have wanted to know so I could be there for you, a-and don’t think that me choosing to do that for you is me being burdened by you, because I never could be; I love you, Y/n - I love you, okay? And I want to do everything I do, for you; want to do everything I can to make you happy, and comfortable; and to give you the treatment that you do deserve, and somehow never got, except from me and-.. sorry.”

You would shake your head, managing a faint smile over at her, before you buried your face into the crook of her neck, and clung to her shoulders blissfully. “I miss her so much,” you managed, your voice barely audible, and Margot would nod gravely, whilst rubbing your back with her right hand to try and soothe you, “she was the only one out of them that I could really talk to, and.. it was just such a shock.. I’m sorry, Margot; I’ll never do it again; I can’t scare you like that again.”

“Promise-?” She requested, and you would nod, trying to fight back any hesitation.

“I promise I’ll never try and hurt myself, o-or try to commit suicide, again,” you replied, “not when I have someone as good as you by my side; my all-time best friend, a-as well as - the - the most beautiful and perfect woman in the world.”

She would appear flustered, her eyes glinting a little whilst blood rushed to her cheeks, and a smile would begin to play on her lips instantly. “Most beautiful and perfect? Are you sure you don’t mean yourself?” She inquired, and you would shake your head. “Well, I think that it’s you who is the most beautiful, and the most perfect, daydreamer,” she cooed, before shyly leaning a little closer so her lips were inches from your’s, and you would find yourself longingly glancing down at them occasionally, whilst your heart began to race blissfully alongside her’s, “I love you so much.” She would then delicately connect her lips to your’s, before you could protest and insist that it was her who was the most beautiful and perfect again, and you would instantly melt into the kiss alongside her, soon beginning to feel warm and fuzzy, and as if everything would be okay again. The kiss would sadly end when your stomach decided to rumble, embarrassing you, and prompting you to hide your face from her, whilst Margot smirked over at you, and tried to fight back a giggle. “You should probably eat something,” she suggested, and you would wince, before nodding timidly in agreement, “c’mon - I’ll drive you back, and make you something-”

“No,” you whined, “you don’t have to do that for me; I can make something-”

“I’m not changing my mind,” she stated, and you would groan, shaking your head; you didn’t want her to feel as if she had to do that for you, but you knew she was right; she would probably never change her mind.

“Fine,” you begrudgingly gave in, and she would beam victoriously over at you, evidently glad that you’d given in, “but I’ll only let you do it for me this one time - every other time it’s gonna be me making something for you.”

“We’ll see,” she replied, smirking over at you again, before she intertwined the fingers of her right hand blissfully with the fingers of your left one, silencing you before you could protest, and even prompting you to forget how to breathe for a moment, “come on, daydreamer, before it starts raining - the clouds are so grey today, and I can’t let my princess get a cold.” You would nod hastily, after being broken out of your brief trance of admiring her again, and finding yourself flustered by her remark, prompting you to forget both how to breathe again, and how to talk for a moment, before you followed her out of the hospital, and out to her car so she could drive you both back home, and attempt to nurse you back to health again mentally and physically, to the best of her ability; she was determined to make you happy again, no matter how long it might take for her to do so.

~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed it! ❤️

[anotherrevue]

The Top 25 Movies of 2022

When I think about 2022, the highs of the year feel like a return to form, for movies and for myself personally. And yet, on further inspection, it’s possible that two straight years of largely garbage movies and even more garbage circumstances have set the bar rather low. Yes indeed, this year has been better in comparison, but it has not by any means measured up to “normal”. 

There have been some bright spots – travelling all over the country to meet friends, watching movies I’ve been waiting to see for several years, etc – and there have been some dark recesses – of the mind, yes, but also whatever the fuck has been happening at Warner Bros. Discovery. And as far as my empty promises of lots of new pieces that I made in my first ever post, the ideas are still there, I just haven’t yet made most of them as coherent as I’d hoped. However, I have some breaking news for you: the year’s over, which means it’s time for the highlight reel babyyy! You’ll only find best-ofs here (sorry to The Gray Man) as we kick off another year.

Quick note to anyone who didn’t read the Shepitko piece: I’m totally on your side. It’s too long and too much like a SparkNotes summary of a biography. I wrote it while I was stuck deep down a well of love for this incredible artist who thought much along the same lines about art: “If I don’t do it, I’ll die.” Is that a sideways excuse for why I haven’t updated this blog in a long time? Maybe…

But back to 2022. An incredible year for theatres: Top Gun Maverick recreating the late great Tony Scott’s aesthetic for a fleeting 2 hour thrill ride was something I never expected. Avatar: The Way of Water leading the charge for high quality, must-see-in-3D movies on the other hand was something I completely expected and yet I still walked out absolutely in love with Pandora. The return of Jaws, ET and The Godfather in the form of picture-perfect restorations and pristine transfers was such a perfect lure back to theatres.

But as with any year, I saw most movies this year in my bedroom or on TV. 594 is a very large number, which troubles me. I worry that I watch too any movies – do I really process what I watch or is it robotic? Am I just putting on movies as a way to distract myself, and if so, is that fair?

I don’t really have answers there. It has certainly felt mechanical at times, and I felt like I reached saturation, occasionally feeling like I didn’t even care about movies. And then, just in the nick of time would come something like Crimes of the Future, a nasty piece of mystery fiction, but nasty in the best possible way, twisted by ol’ Dave Cronenberg to forefront his own preoccupations with the human body and relationships. Suddenly, I’d be back in love with films.

So what can I do? I’ll keep watching movies, but maybe slow down a little. Take time to process each movie before moving on. Watch with more purpose, more discernment. Maybe I don’t need to watch ALL of the new Pinocchios (del Toro’s is by far the most enjoyable, Zemeckis’ is a complete nothingburger and the Russian one is… unfathomably awful). And most of all, I’ll write more, because that helps me connect to movies more than just letting it swirl around in the cesspool that is my mind.

But enough of the rambling preamble. As a movie year, 2022 was twisty and all over the place. A great year for Tom Cruise and Colin Farrell (who was excellent in FOUR WHOLE MOVIES THANK YOU to the film deities!!), a great year for horror, a great year for weird shit that seemed to be aimed directly at me. A terrible year (I know I said no negativity so I’ll get this over quickly) for unfortunate franchises (Branagh’s Poirot, Jurassic World) and Tom Hanks, who was in the bad Pinocchio and generally agreed to be the worst part of Elvis. Undecided result for Margot Robbie, who was passably charming in an inexplicable film (Amsterdam) and reportedly excellent in an unmitigated flop that I’m excited to watch (Babylon).

I watched 141 movies released in 2022. Here are my top 25.

25. Causeway

24. Saloum

23. Save the Cinema

22. Bheeshma Parvam

21. The Lost King

20. Pada

19. Everything Everywhere All at Once

18. Nope

17. God’s Country

16. Hinterland

15. Hustle

14. The Northman

13. The Banshees of Inisherin

12. Prey

11. Benediction

10. Fire of Love

This was among my most anticipated movies of 2022. It’s rare for me to be so excited for a documentary – I usually stumble upon them and then get pulled into loving it. And unlike another documentary from this year that I loved (my precious Good Night Oppy, which made me cry, much like most movies about the space program), I wasn’t really pre-disposed to loving it. I’m a space guy, not a lava guy. Yet Fire of Love is special, because the premise promises a tragic love story, but from the first moment that we see the Kraffts, we realize that this isn’t tragic to them, no matter the outcome. They understand the risks fully and still it’s completely joyous for them. And the footage of the volcanoes is mesmerizing, you almost understand how inextricably drawn they felt to them. NatGeo, two years running, making my best of year list. I’ll keep my eye out for their 2023 releases.

9. The Woman King

This is Gladiator with most of the flab cut off. Gina Prince-Bythewood is one of my favourite working directors and her shift into action filmmaking is really remarkable, considering how emotionally focused her first three movies are. It makes sense though, once you realize that her action scenes are so fluid is because she herself is an athlete and she frames the scenes, not just as balletic or violent feats, but as a show of athletic prowess. From the opening – which is very reminiscent of the first Nakia scene in Black Panther – I was fully on board with the tone and scale of this movie, boosted in no small part by Viola Davis (the biggest Oscar snub of the year), Lashana Lynch (being an absolute dynamo on screen) and Thusu Mbedu (who somehow holds her own as a co-lead in this movie opposite Davis).

8. Jackass Forever

Like every iteration of Jackass, Forever is wonderfully juvenile, but there’s an added tinge of melancholy in watching Knoxville, Steve-O, Dave England and the rest of the original cast slowly come to terms with the fact that their bodies can’t take the same levels of punishment anymore. We see them hand over a lot of the stunts to the newer additions, who take the reins while also trying to get out of the giant shadows of Ryan Dunn and Bam. All that said, Knoxville and Steve-O still do the two most what the fuck gags in the movie, and Danger Ehren, as ever, is the victim of a nightmarish flurry of pain. But Jackass isn’t about violence; it’s just the most stupidly violent franchise about friends who love each other.

7. Kimi

Any movie Steven Soderbergh puts out is likely to make my best of, and it speaks to the quality of the top 10 this year that Kimi has dropped to the back half. This movie is fun as hell, an old school conspiracy thriller in the vein of (quite obviously) The Conversation and Rear Window, but set in a tech world that’s increasingly more familiar – and more frightening – to us. Of course, Soderbergh isn’t new to conspiracies (see: Erin Brockovich), but the thing that makes his work in Kimi particularly enthralling is his ability to capture natural human behaviour on screen. He makes excellent hangout movies (Oceans 11-13, Magic Mike, Let Them All Talk) because he knows that if you shoot movie stars in a certain way and pace it right, anything they do will be immensely watchable. And for Kimi, he teamed up with one of the very rare true-blue movie stars under 35 in Zoe Kravitz. She pulls the camera with a natural, easy magnetism that automatically sets us up on her side. Add Soderbergh’s excellent technical craft, and you get a lean, mean, murder mystery machine that has you in and out and completely satisfied in 90 minutes flat.

6. Top Gun: Maverick

Often the Best Actor/Actress Oscar is won by someone doing an interpretation of a real person that we’re all familiar with (Rami Malek for Freddie Mercury, Renee Zellweger for Judy Garland and possibly – god forbid – Austin Butler for Elvis). I think that should just be its own special Oscar: Best Re-Creation. And this year, Top Gun: Maverick should win that honour, because Joseph Kosinski (who I’m overall pretty mixed on as a director) does a spectacular job recreating that early Tony Scott style that made the first Top Gun so exhilarating. Funny thing, leading up to the release of this movie, I put my favourite Tony Scott movies on TV (I’ll take any excuse really). My sister walked in during the first 10 minutes of Unstoppable and not only was she completely hooked, but she insisted on watching the rest of the movies with me. So it was particularly fantastic to be able to show my sister a Tony Scott-esque movie in theatres for the first time. I wish there were more of them.

5. Avatar: The Way of Water

Yes I loved it. Am I a sucker for Jim Cameron? Also yes. The water footage is like watching NatGeo from another planet (in a good way, you should know by now that I’m a fiend for NatGeo). Cameron knows how the build tension in an action scene and he also knows how to shoot it so that you know exactly where everyone is in relation to each other, which seems to be a lost art in big budget blockbusters these days. But what gets The Way of Water to number 5 is the tulkun. What an incredible idea to have this species of space whales be intellectually and emotionally smarter than the Na’vi and yet have them choose to intertwine themselves with the Na’vi. And the decision to introduce this kind of an interspecies dynamic in the SECOND MOVIE when there’s is no analogue for it in the first, is a feat on its own. Although I should have probably recused myself from reviewing this movie, since Payakan is my best friend.

4. The Fabelmans

Steven Spielberg has always been a filmmaking savant, which this movie will tell you, but I think what makes The Fabelmans so good, and what has really been working for Spielberg in this last decade, is that he tackles honest, complex emotions head on instead of eschewing it for the classic Spielberg sentimentality. He portrays the intricate and overlapping familial dynamics in the Fabelman household (a thinly veiled depiction of his own home life) with shockingly little guile or deflection and shows us not only the joys, but the strains of being an artist.

3. TÁR

Hard to talk about this movie without just lavishing praise on Cate Blanchett, but I’ll try – not because she isn’t the best thing about it, but because every discussion about TÁR is so dominated by Cate Blanchett that other great parts of the movie fade into the noise. Todd Field as an actor is best known as Nick Nightingale in Eyes Wide Shut, but his work as a director in TÁR reminds me of the second half another Kubrick movie: Barry Lyndon. To start the movie at the peak of someone’s prowess and document their downfall, and not have audiences utterly despairing by the end is a special talent that few have, and Field certainly nails it. Noemie Merlant (of Portrait of a Lady on Fire fame) is an absolute beacon of charisma as Lydia Tar’s assistant, and her performance subtly elevates the audience’s investment in the story. But I think the secret sauce to the movie, and the emotional crux, is on the shoulders of Nina Hoss, who has very little screen time, yet really underscores the whole movie with one incredible line reading. The individual pieces of TÁR are excellent in their own right, which sometimes poses a problem when the filmmaker tries to put them all together, but the movie is so well-conceived and Field has such a strong artistic voice that the brilliance of each part only works to elevate the whole.

2. After Yang

The first of Colin Farrell’s 2022 movies remains my favourite, which is a shock because I would have put money on The Banshees of Inisherin being my number one movie of the year overall. And though Banshees has been slowly creeping up my rankings the longer I think on it, After Yang has held strong for nigh on a year. Kogonada’s first movie, Columbus, juxtaposed an emotional gentleness with the sadness of real life in a way that didn’t make me want to run away as movies like that normally do. Instead, he made the real world an enviable gentle place that doesn’t magic away tragedies but accepts them as an essential part of every person. In After Yang, Kogonada takes that sensibility and applies it to a sci-fi idea that is perhaps as old as the genre: what if a robot began to feel? The set-up is, on paper, similar to classics like Blade Runner and AI, but the movie is handled with a tenderness that those earlier movies had only sparingly. There’s a lot in After Yang about loss and grief and parenting, but also about the joys of culture and art.

1. Three Thousand Years of Longing

If you go back to my list last year, my number one was Night of the Kings, a Ivorian prison drama about the importance of storytelling. So I guess it’s pretty boring that this year, yet again, I’ve picked a film that features tales of magic and wonder. Three Thousand Years of Longing is a djinn movie, but what sets Three Thousand Years apart is the way these fairytales are portrayed. Rooted in real history, the stories have a sense of dream logic that makes every instance of magic makes sense. And the main story itself, much like another movie I loved this year (Good Luck to You, Leo Grande), cautiously but lovingly explores the awkward romanticism of two strangers in a hotel. Idris Elba’s Djinn is wary of his summoner, while Tilda Swinton’s Alithea, a scholar of storytelling, is well aware of the mischievous nature of djinns. Hijinks do not ensue, however. Rather, the two of them slowly let their guards down, as the Djinn warns Alithea of the dangers of previous wishes he’d had to grant, weaving tales of a mystical history that has her (and me) completely enraptured. Three Thousand Years feels to me like the closest a movie can get to the magic of bard recounting an oral tradition of love and war and the follies of humans.

***

As usual, some honourable mentions:

Decision to Leave, Good Luck to You, Leo Grande, Athena, A Man of Action, Mukundan Unni Associates, Apollo 10 ½: A Space Age Childhood, Watcher, Something from Tiffany’s (a very solid romcom) and motherfucking Ambulance because what a goddamn ride that movie is.

I don’t recommend stand-up specials often because nothing is less appealing than comedy recommendations. But Jerrod Carmichael’s Rothaniel is really the most intimate special I’ve seen while still being hilarious.

I know I don’t talk TV often but Andor and Slow Horses have three essentially perfect seasons between them and I’m very excited for what’s next.

Finally, Dinner in America is the most punk rock movie of the year and I really hope it gets a bit more traction because there aren’t enough straight up fuck the system movies being made, which is a major bummer.

***

I want to end on a note of cautious optimism, but I’ve gone on too long already, so let me just say this: we’re probably getting new movies from our greatest working directors[1], not to mention new entries in some of the most high quality franchises. Yes indeed, folks, a promising movie year lies ahead, and you might as well stay tuned to Another Revue - who knows? I might be true to my word about writing more.

___

Soderbergh (Magic Mike 3), Scorsese (Killers of the Flower Moon), Michael Mann (Ferrari), Sofia Coppola (Priscilla), Miyazaki (How Do You Live?), Fincher (The Killer), Gerwig (Barbie), Yorgos Lanthimos (Poor Things and possibly And), Reichardt (Showing Up), Nolan (Oppenheimer), Shyamalan (Knock at the Cabin), Ridley Scott (Napoleon), Steve McQueen (Blitz), Jonathan Glazer (The Zone of Interest) ↩

[gchoate17]

I watched 25 movies in 2023 – down from 30 last year. Here they are, ranked in order. 

Cherry

Fantastic story, well told. It covered a lot of ground in a short time and made me believe everything. Despite the bad decision, I never stopped pulling for him. Tom Holland crushed it.

2. Tetris

I love these stories that pull the curtain back on pop culture phenomena. An enthralling sprint from start to finish.

3. I, Tonya

Nice job of showing the other side of the story. I felt some empathy for “the monster.” Also, I wasn’t expecting to laugh, but I laughed multiple times.

4. Dune (2021)

It’s always impressive when someone creates a new world that seems to add up. The story is set, now show me the sequel.

5. White Noise

Intellectual and quirky, but ridiculous, in a good way. But it also feels a little too unhinged. Adam Driver crushes it.

6. The Beanie Bubble

Zach Galifinakis’s best performance? Enough of a true story to give me the satisfaction of learning something while also pointing to the ridiculous nature of American capitalism in the 1990s.

7. On the Rocks

Bill Murray and his character carry it.

8. Barbie

Stylistically, really fun. Concept, fantastic. Kate McKinnon and Michael Cera’s characters are the best part of the movie. It was also nice to see so many actors from Sex Education. Of course, Margot Robbie and Ryan Gosling were fantastic as well. Overall, the was good, but it certainly didn’t measure up to the hype (and how could it). My only real complaint comes with when they have all been enlightened and they name all of the problems with society, which is a little too on the nose for me. We got it without being told.

9. Narvik

I’ve been into Dutch things lately, and I always like a new perspective on World War II, but I wouldn’t say this one is a can’t-miss.

10. Seven Kings Must Die

SPOILER ALERT: I feel like I couldn't get into the movie because legitimately the only person I was pulling for at the end was Uhtred. King Athelstan was a dumbass who deserved to die. All the kings who got duped into allying with the evil Dane guy made the move I would have made. Moral of the story: War is terrible. But that final shot of the Great Hall was awesome.

11. Parasite

Kind of funny. A little too far-fetched.

12. This is Where I Leave You

Weak story, great actors.

13. Air

I know why they did it, but it was a mistake to make a movie about Air Jordans without Michael Jordan.

14. Blood & Gold

I couldn’t buy that what happened in that small town didn’t alert larger authorities. In that way, it was a lot like Three Kings, but less humorous.

15. Those People

I am writing this review months after I watched the movie and even after watching the trailer, I have no recollection of ever seeing this movie, but in my notes I gave it three stars, so I’m putting it at the end of my three-star movies for the year.

16. Everything Everywhere All at Once

Loved the first half-ish, and the acting was great, but – as is with most action mind-benders – when anything can happen because the filmmakers aren’t bound by the rules of reality, it felt completely out of control by the end.

17. The Covenant

Movies that pretend like you can move about freely in war are out of touch with reality. But I do love a battle-buddy flick.

18. Raymond & Ray

A little absurd, but Ethan Hawke and Ewan McGregor are always likable.

19. To Leslie

Predictable addiction story. Bad Southern accents.

20. Midsommar

A horror film, but replace the dark aesthetic with light. Immature characters who ignore all the red flags.

21. The Wonder

SPOILER ALERT: Eerie and intriguing, but my investment diminished once the jig was up. I don’t buy that a devout little girl like that would just walk away.

22. Greyhound

SPOILER ALERT: Decent action sequences at sea, but not enough background for any of it to really mean anything. Elizabeth Shue needed to come back, for sure. Otherwise, why have her play the role?

23. Dead for a Dollar

I’m a Christoph Waltz fan, but this one was full of melodrama.

24. The Incident (1967)

None of the characters do what they should and there was no payoff. I did enjoy seeing those actors in the early stages of their career, though.

25. The Menu

I want to know how Ralph Fiennes, Anya Taylor-Joy, Nicholas Hoult, and John Leguizamo got trapped in this stupid-ass movie.

See previous years’ lists here: 2022, 2021, 2020, 2019, 2018, 2017.

[signalwatch]

Arleen Sorkin Merges With The Infinite Actor and voice actor Atleen Sorkin has passed. When Batman: The Animated Series premiered back in the early 1990's, I was a skeptical Bat-reader, but literally by the end of the credits, I was in.  By the time I saw Batman getting dragged behind Man-Bat through the skyline of Gotham, I was out of my mind.  In many ways, I think the show is the epitome of Batman as a concept, but it also went beyond adapting a comic and movie concept to a cartoon, it restored and built upon the decades of Bat-mythology.  And chief among those addition was Dr. Harleen Quinzel, aka: Harley Quinn.   We're still reeling from that addition.  And brought to brilliant life through writing, art, animation and the unforgettable voice of Arleen Sorkin.   Sorkin was probably best known as an actress as Calliope Jones on Days of Our Lives, where she appeared for decades across hundreds of episodes.    As much as comic characters could be identified by their silhouettes, cartoon characters need to be specific and memorable to really work - and that was something voice director Andrea Romano brought to fore with BTAS.  But with Harley Quinn, they'd found absolute gold in Sorkin.  A face of a Bat-villain might drive a certain thought process, but Harley was new, an invention of the show, and maybe the logical extrapolation of what the difference is between comics and animation - suddenly you can do new things with a voice alone.   For comic fans and Batman fans, Sorkin's voice and character would be the magical ingredient.  A kind of Brooklyn-ese taken to extremes.  Funny, crazy, a little sad.  High energy, with the potential for violence.  A crack in the voice here or there could say it all.  An octave jump something else.   Anyway, as soon as the show hit and Harley appeared, the doors of fandom were thrown wide open to Harley as a new addition, and she was soon appearing in comics as well as the show.  If there was resistance by die-hard Batfans, those voices were drowned out.  Harley became so popular, DC eventually realized they had to transform her.  No more chasing after a killer clown, seeking his love.  She'd become a sort of agent of chaos within the DCU, sometimes on the side of the angels, and sometimes... less so. The voice of Harley by Sorkin would go on to survive art changes, changes in leadership in WB animation, and make the jump to video games.  She's the voice you hear in your head when reading the comics, and what Margot Robbie borrowed across three feature films as a live-action version of the character.   Like Kevin Conroy before her, she passed way too young.  But she also will have left millions of people with the memory of her voice, instantly recognizable, and which will be imitated by others for decades to come. https://ift.tt/OXokRAc via The Signal Watch https://ift.tt/RX4NlTW August 27, 2023 at 10:57PM

[pearlydoe]

margot   let   out   a   sputtered   laugh   and   covered   her   mouth   with   her   hand,   shocking   herself   by   the   sound,   and   then   followed   with   a   clearing   of   her   throat.   she   wasn't   used   to   such   frankness,   but   it   amused   her   nonetheless.   at   least   the   shell   of   her.

“well   i   think   i'm   good   on   the   clothes   front,”   she   started,   chuckling   again,   “but   i've   been   putting   off   my   bedding   for   far   too   long,   and   i   had   to   pull   out   my   duvet   since   the   weather's   getting   colder.   it's   been   awhile,   so   it   certainly   needed   a   wash.”   she   waved   her   hand   behind   her,   towards   the   bulk   washers,   then   let   out   a   playfully   dejected   sigh.   “i   guess   there's   really   no   avoiding   it,   in   the   end.” unlike   herself,   who   would   likely   let   the   small   talk   die   and   allow   silence   to   fill   between   them   —   being   strangers,   and   such   —   margot   needed   to   stifle   the   dissociation.   not   in   front   of   people.   so   she   continued,   in   a   nonchalant   manner   :   “by   the   way,   i   feel   like   i've   seen   you   before,   but   i'm   not   sure   where.   this   town   is   small,   i'm   surprised   we   haven't   met   before   !”   a   smile   grew   on   her   face,   one   more   genuine,   as   she   said,   “i'm   margot.   like   margot   robbie,   but   she's   you   know.   cool   and   famous."

billy  branson  hated  laundry  day.  if  he  had  the  money,  he  would  have  most  certainly  paid  someone  to  haul  it  to  the  laundromat  and  get  it  all  done  for  him.  alas,  billy  was  broke  as  hell. he  cursed  as  he  grasped  the  basket  of  dirty  clothes  and  pulled  it  out  of  his  car.  with  the  toe  of  his  boot,  he  opened  the  door  to  the  business,  immediately  grateful  it  wasn't  jam  packed  with  other  poor  souls  like  him.  the  one  other  person  he  did  see  was  someone  he  had  spotted  around  town  but  couldn't  recall  ever  actually  speaking  with. torn  between  trying  to  be  social  to  maybe  make  a  new  friend  and  keeping  to  himself,  billy  decided  he'd  let  the  woman  decide  his  route--if  she  spoke,  he'd  reply.  if  she  ignored  his  existence,  he'd  do  the  same.  and  it  was  when  he  had  passed  in  front  of  her  with  his  large  basket  of  soiled  clothes  that  the  decision  was  made. he  knew  all  too  well  about  the  mindless  dazing  that  could  be  brought  on  by  tiredness,  and  the  line  cook  gave  a  little  shrug  as  he  let  his  basket  drop  to  the  floor  in  front  of  an  open  washing  machine.  "it's  all  good,"  he  answered  simply,  a  hint  of  a  smile  on  his  face  as  he  nudged  the  basket  with  his  boot.  "yeah--been  stalling  on  it  too  long.  all  i  got  to  wear  now  are  some  jeans  that  squeeze  my  nuts  too  tight  and  a  shirt  that  says  i  love  strippers."  a  laugh  followed  his  slightly  crude  words  before  he  began  digging  in  his  pockets  for  the  change  he  had  shoved  in  before  leaving  the  trailer  park.

[squadrah]

what are la squadra wearing for halloween when they're hitting the town?

Thank you for bailing me out, now's my chance to deliver late Halloween fun times! :D I'm actually going to go a number of ways here - I'm going to remind everyone of their costumes as depicted by that one official artist, and then add some of my own ideas!

Okay, so here's the art (had to hunt it down manually and scroll for half an hour but it was totally worth it):

And now I can give some of my own ideas!

Risotto:

Random costume: I feel like he's the perfect candidate for dressing as a Cenobite, since Metallica can help with any of the metal "accessories" like the nails on Pinhead.

Sexy option: I would love for him to dress up as a Pillar Man. Not even one of the few we know, just a generic interpretation of one.

Mundane Halloween option: "Man helping others reach the tall shelves at the supermarket"

Formaggio:

Random costume: I think he should dress up as a leprechaun, go to a party, and gradually shrink as people are getting drunk to mess with them. Bonus if he has a pot of "gold" to lead people to.

Sexy option: I feel like he should do us all a favor and take a crack at Margot Robbie's Harley Quinn.

Mundane Halloween option: "A guy who's dissatisfied with his haircut but cannot bring himself to tell the barber"

Prosciutto:

Random costume: This is too much in the vein of the art above, but I feel like he would make a really good Lestat from Interview With A Vampire; it's just an iconic and elegant look.

Sexy option: I want him to do the world a favor and go as Marilyn Monroe in that one white dress. You know the one.

Mundane Halloween option: "Project manager losing his mind over a tight deadline" / "Old man inspecting construction work"

Pesci:

Random costume: My first thought was that something like Conan the Barbarian would look good on him - just an excuse to really try on a different fur trim and show off his guns.

Sexy option: The random option is already halfway there, but he can't go wrong with a scantily clad wrestling outfit.

Mundane Halloween option: "A guy who had his order mixed up at the fast food place"

Ghiaccio:

Random costume: I envy him because White Album could technically make him an armored costume so he could go as a Pacific Rim Jaeger pilot if he wanted to and that's just magical to me.

Sexy option: Best option is probably dressing as a beach guard because he can flex if there's a pool.

Mundane Halloween option: "Jogger waiting in line at the store to buy mineral water"

Melone:

Random costume: This is such a random thought indeed but what if he went as a member of Daft Punk with a cool custom helmet that could emote for him (powered by Baby Face, perhaps.)

Sexy option: I feel like he deserves a slutty teacher costume and a hand pointer to brandish at people.

Mundane Halloween option: "A guy trying to dye streaks into his own hair at home"

Illuso:

Random costume: For him I would love something iconic like the Goblin King from Labyrinth (his Stand actually reminds me of the armored goblins from the movie.)

Sexy option: He would absolutely rock a Playboy Bunny outfit complete with high heels and his hair down.

Mundane Halloween option: "A guy who can't remember which pocket he put his keys in"

Sorbet and Gelato:

Lumping them together because they would want to match.

Random costume: I will die on this hill - they should go as Morticia and Gomez Addams, respectively, because I think they possess the energy required and it gives them leave to make out in public.

Sexy option: Imagine them dressing up as an extremely hetero couple from a romance novel cover and posing for pictures.

Mundane Halloween option: "Two guys who collided and spilled their drinks on each other"

[skinnyducky]

class act // v.h.

requested by @lovesicksofi​ 

a/n this was quite difficult to write. i felt like half the time i was info-dumping and i didn’t want anything to feel redundant or like it was slowing the pace down. however, i tried my best and i think it’s good. i hope this what you were expecting and wanting !

vinnie hacker x plus sized!actress!reader

Word Count: 1544, edited

WARNING: fluff, mentions of death (not real) blood (fake) and stabbing (fake), language, and sadness... i think that’s all.

---------

You were sitting at the makeup chair in your trailer, watching from the mirror as your makeup artist added blood to the corner of your lips. Today was the last day on set for you as your character in your highly anticipated drama film was meeting their demise. It was bittersweet, but after working for a good three months, you were finally happy to get it over with.

Being an actress was something you dreamed of doing. You went from being the sun in your elementary school’s “food chain” play to starring on Broadway in hits like Mean Girls or Wicked. Now, you were hitting the big screen. Though, when people found out about you, as happy as they were to have another talented actress in the business, they had a lot to say about your weight. You were more curvier, more fuller than most of the women in your field, and you faced a lot of criticism for it. No matter how good your acting was, you were always just the “overweight” girl.

At first, those words hurt, and it made you feel as though you wouldn’t make it in the industry. But then, you realized you had been working your ass off to get to where you are today. You damn sure weren’t about to let some snide remarks get in the way of you achieving your dreams. So, you kept pushing and pushing. Now, you had a leading role in a movie, starring alongside Margot Robbie and Brad Pitt.

“I think I need a little bit more pink in the eye.” You said to Andrew, your makeup artist. He rolled his eyes at you and continued to add blush to your cheeks.

“You’re dying, Y/n, not going to the club.”

You shrugged. “Nothing wrong with wanting to look good before I get stabbed.”

“Har, har…now tilt your head.” Andrew sneered, putting on my mascara. “So, where’s Jen? I miss her rants about contracts and stuff.”

“She’s with another client of hers. Something to do with dropping an album or whatever, I don’t know.”

Andrew snickered, screwing the top onto back onto the mascara. “She’s managing music artists too? Isn’t she quite the manager.”

“Tell me about it. I get lucky if she ever she shows me any attention.” You laughed as you pulled out your phone and started scrolling through Instagram. You went through and liked a bunch of pictures until you stopped on a certain person’s photo. A smile plastered itself onto your face as you admired the shirtless shot of your boyfriend, Vinnie.

“Is that the boyfriend I hear so much about?” Andrew grinned.

“That’s him indeed.” You answered with a smile. “His name’s Vinnie.”

You and Vinnie had been together for a good year. You both met at some sleazy influencer party. With you both clinging to wall, clearly not wanting to be there, you two made small talk. You chatted it up about everything: from favorite colors to Elmo, your conversations were wild. At the end of the night when you were getting ready to leave, he asked you for your number—much to your surprise. With glee, you gave it to him and thus led to a beautiful relationship. Of course, there was hate, people questioning what he was doing with you and mocking you because of your weight. But you weren’t focused on that. You had a gorgeous boyfriend and a blossoming career right in front of you. Jealous fans were the least of your worries.

“He’s a cutie, Y/n. You bagged a baddie.” Andrew joked, spritzing some setting spray on his masterpiece. “So, when can I meet him?”

Just before you could respond, the door to your trailer opened. You turned around and shrieked with excitement as your boyfriend wandered in. “I got lost and met Margot Robbie.” He said, causing you and Andrew to laugh. “Hey, babe.”

Vinnie stepped beside you and planted a kiss to your forehead. “Hey, baby!” You squealed. “This is Andrew, my makeup artist.”

You pointed towards the MUA who merely waved at Vinnie before pulling out his phone. “He’s not really social,” you said. “So, what are you doing here? I thought you were doing a sub-a-thon?”

“Well, I was going to, but I decided to come visit you instead.” He replied, moving to stand behind you. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and rested his chin on your head. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Of course, I am. I’m always happy to see you.”

He grinned and went to kiss your lips but before he could Andrew stopped him. “Not on my watch, sir. That took an hour and a half, and I really would like to not spend another one redoing it.”

You snickered, turning to Vinnie. “He takes his work seriously.”

“Duly noted.”

You and Vinnie shared a laugh and talked for a minute before you were called to set. After getting dressed in your tattered dress and fishnets, you left your trailer with Vinnie following behind you. Now, you were standing in the middle of a trashed hotel room with Brad Pitt across from you and Margot Robbie standing a few feet away. Vinnie stood with the crew as your director explained the scene thoroughly to you.

“Ginger”—he pointed at you—“is being attacked by Paul”—he pointed to Brad Pitt—“and Susan is banging on the door to help you, but it’s locked. When she opens it, you’re already dead, got it?”

You and the other two nodded before the director rushed to his seat behind the camera and yelled, “Action!”

Once the camera’s started rolling, it was like a shift for you. No longer were you Y/n, you were your character, inside and out. As Brad’s character, Paul—safely—flung you across the room, Vinnie couldn’t help but feel a little pained. He knew you were acting but seeing it, it hurt him a little. Margot’s screams rang throughout the set as she banged against the door. “Don’t hurt her, Paul!” she cried.

Tossing you onto the floor, Brad stood over you menacingly. “You wanna screw me over, bitch!” He shouted, gripping the straps of your dress as he pulled out the fake pocketknife in his back pocket.

“Please don’t do this, I’ll do anything. Please,” You cried, gripping onto Brad’s wrist. “Don’t, Paul…don’t do this!”

Vinnie gulped back a sob as he watched the scene unfold with tears pricking the corners of his eyes. Why am I acting like this? He thought. This isn’t real. But it felt real, all too real. It no longer felt like he was on movie set, no cameras or crew. To him, you weren’t playing a character, you were still Y/n…and you were being hurt. He couldn’t take it; he wanted to intervene and save you…but he couldn’t…and that broke his heart.

Soon enough, the epic moment came, and Brad plunged the “knife” deep into your abdomen. You let out an ear-piercing scream, sending chills down everyone’s body. Your breathing hitched as blood poured from your partly opened lips. And then…your body went limp.

“CUT!”

And with that, you we’re back to Y/n. The director ran over to you and pulled you up off the floor. “That was fucking amazing, oh my god! I’ve never worked with anyone who could convey that much emotion before!”

“Thank you!” You blushed. The rest of your cast and crew members flocked around you, complimenting you on your incredible performance. However, as you looked around, you noticed a specific someone missing from the small crowd. As you humbly accepted everyone’s praise, you said your goodbyes and went to search for you boyfriend around the set. When you didn’t find him, you headed back to your trailer. Before you opened the door, you heard the sound of soft cries. With furrowed brows, you walked into the trailer and there was your boyfriend, crying into a pillow on your couch.

“Vinnie? What’s wrong?” You cooed as you sat next to him and rubbed circles on his back.

He shook his head, keeping quiet. “Vinnie, just tell me. I’m not gonna judge you or anything.” You said.

“All of that…I know it was fake and it was just acting, but it felt so real. Seeing you just…die, it hurt me, y’know? I don’t know if it’s because you’re fucking good at what you do or if it’s just boyfriend instincts but, seeing that and knowing I couldn’t do anything to stop it…it was painful.”

“Oh, Vinnie.” You sighed, wrapping your arms around him. “I’m still here, babe. I’m alive, okay? Nothing actually happened to me.”

He nodded into your chest. “I know, but it was too real. I just had to leave.”

“And I understand. Had I known you were planning on coming, I would’ve warned you ahead of time. I didn’t know seeing me acting out a death scene was going to leave you like this. I’m sorry.”

“Y/n, you have nothing to be sorry for. It’s just me being worried over you.”

You smiled, “Well, you have nothing to be worried about.” You placed a kiss on top of head and started to stroke his hair.

“I’m safe.”

“And a damn good actress.” Vinnie added.

“That too.”

[myreygn]

genius additions by @kanawolf again (fourth pic is me reading them let's all pretend that i look like margot robbie thank you)

what you mentioned about sanemi's actions indirectly (or at least involuntarily) causing genya's demise is so painful because that is exactly what sanemi thinks he did. he hurt his brother so much, he pushed him away all these years and abandoned him - for what? what did it lead to in the end? that's what makes him a monster, not that he did all of these insanely messed up things that he genuinely thought were right but that they were pointless. they accomplished nothing in the end, just made everything more painful for everyone involved.

that's what he does, isn't it? fucking ruining everything wherever he goes. spends all these years mistreating genya - genya dies. (presumably) takes a major chunk of the abuse his father put the kids through to protect his siblings - they die before they can even grow old enough to understand the full gravity of their father. tries so hard to protect his mother from his father (even though he shouldn't have to do this, that's not his job, he's a child) and they manage to get through this horrible time, they manage to survive the man who they thought was gonna be the death of them some day - and not only does she die, she dies at sanemi's hands.

i didn't even think about this aspect of him literally becoming his father in that regard, or what they always thought his father would eventually become but now that you mention it this makes everything so much worse. i don't even have any additions, you said it all - i just want to add that i 100% agree that sanemi hates himself. that is genuinely canon to me, i take that as granted.

i didn't watch the good place and i didn't know the quote but it really sets into perspective how hard it is to assign a person to put the blame on. is sanemi to blame? well yeah obviously, to a certain extent, but to what extent? how much of the shit that went down is on his father? how much of it is to be blamed on his age, how much on his trauma? is there any blame to be put on genya? maybe, for the murderer comment, but also no what the hell no way he was a kid. sanemi was a kid too, sanemi was older than genya, does that make a difference? personally i find it very difficult - who's the biggest victim in this? what, are we comparing trauma now? is a victim who becomes an abuser as a result of being a victim any less of a victim?

it's messy and complicated and heart wrenching. i have to be very honest and tell you that my sickness is frying my brain a little right now and the only conclusion i can draw is that all of them deserved better.

one more thing though: i work at an elementary school and recently i overheard a colleague of mine talk about a six year old troublemaker to the kid's grandma, they were discussing how they could deal with the child and work together better. and my colleague said: "i've been in this field for seven years and i've encountered a lot of messy heads but not a single bad heart."

do you ever think about how sanemi's animosity towards tanjiro makes so much sense from a narrative perspective because tanjiro is literally everything sanemi isn't?

both of them lose their fathers at a very young age, only that sanemi's father was a horrible abusive jerk who inflicted severe trauma upon his entire family while tanjiro's father was the coolest guy around whose lessons continue to motivate tanjiro and impact his life in a positive way.

both of them have to deal with a beloved family member turning into a demon, only that sanemi ends up killing his mother and has to come to terms with the fact that although she became a monster he still killed his mother while tanjiro manages to guide his sister through her monstrosity and finds ways to help her keep her humanity in tact.

both of them lose their families with only one younger sibling remaining, only that sanemi and genya get separated and estranged while tanjiro and nezuko never lose their close relationship.

[spoilers below the cut]

both of them have to deal with their younger sibling being a demon (one way or the other), only that sanemi's hatred towards demons as a whole makes it impossible for him to look at genya the same way while tanjiro loves his sister all the same, no matter if she's demon or human.

both of them try to protect their younger siblings from danger, only that sanemi can't think of anything but straight up abuse to try and push genya away which remains unsuccessful while tanjiro and nezuko work together well during fights and tanjiro still manages to keep her safe.

both of them fight with the goal to keep their siblings alive, only that genya dies and leaves sanemi with a ton of guilt and regret while tanjiro and nezuko get their happy ending.

both of them are thrown into the conflict between demons and humans out of nowhere, only that sanemi spends a considerable amount of time on his own, killing demons without any assistance while tanjiro gets sent of with a hashira recommendation letter to urokodaki's where he receives a proper training and finds a new home and family.

both of them find companions along the way and form meaningful relationships with them, only that masachika dies young with sanemi being unable to protect him while tanjiro, zenitsu and inosuke stay together through everything and manage to survive even the final battle.

and a lot of this is meta knowledge, a lot of this is information that sanemi doesn't have about tanjiro. but he does have some of it and i think it's enough knowledge for me to put up this theory: sanemi envies tanjiro. because both of them went through unspeakable trauma and grief, both of them lost people close to them, both of them had to deal with similar situations.

and yet tanjiro is kind. he's friendly and good, people trust him, people love to befriend them and he inspires them wherever he goes while sanemi is bitter and nasty and simply incapable of forming and maintaining these connections in the way tanjiro is because who'd want to be friends with a cruel jerk right? and tanjiro loves to take lonely people under his wing, but not even he is willing to forgive sanemi for most of the story and i can only imagine how that must sting because no one wants to be lonely and yet sanemi can't even blame him. he wouldn't forgive himself either.

[angstyandromanticwriting]

‘Louisiana Rose’ (an OC) X Fem!Reader Angsty, Cute and Fluffy Prompt

• Rose’s face claim is Margot Robbie as Nellie Laroy

• Connected to previous parts I have written

• Inspired by Daisy Jones & the Six

!TW: Implied suffering from depression, implied having to face homophobia, mention of previously being homeless, implied suffering from anxiety + separation anxiety, mention of previously having an overdose + previous near death experience(s), drug-taking, blood (having a nose bleed), hint of self-doubt + self put-downs, being sick/throwing up, implied wanting to die, having a nightmare, implied nudity, smoking, mention of previously having alcohol poisoning, alcohol + alcohol consumption, violence, swearing, mention previously being shot for someone else - if I’ve missed any, let me know ❤️!

Upon the moment Joel had announced that he and Rose had gotten engaged, you would find yourself slipping out of the room, with tears threatening to escape your eyes; you’d always imagined that - no matter what - it would be you and her getting married, and it was excruciatingly painful to be reminded of how that might never be the case, especially not now that the engagement had been announced, and because of how the press disliked that you both were two women finding themselves in love with one another. Hopeful that nobody would be able to find you, you would hastily walk in the direction of the old alley you used to reside in, before Rose had found you, and given you a place to stay. You couldn’t help, but smile at the reminder of this memory, but the smile would soon fade when you heard a couple of people passing the alleyway talking about the engagement again, prompting your heart to sink, and to begin aching excruciatingly again.

“I thought I’d find you here.” A familiar voice would sound out, and you would tense up, whilst you began to painfully imagine what it would be like if you ever found yourself never being able to hear her, or see her again - the voice belonged to Rose, who would smile warmly over at you, prompting your aching heart to begin to race, whilst she timidly looked around, before advancing further into the alleyway, and sitting beside you. “So..” She continued dejectedly, and you would bow your head again, not wanting to upset her; you were trying not to cry. “How are you holding up-?” She inquired, before intertwining the fingers of her right hand blissfully with the trembling fingers of your left one.

“I don’t even know anymore,” you answered, and Rose would frown, a pained expression on her face; she hated seeing you like this, like you had been when she’d first found you; appearing as if you had nothing left, and were broken, “I miss the way things used to be, w-when it-.. when it was just us.”

Rose would nod gravely; she’d been missing it, too. “I do, too,” she admitted, before hesitantly turning to face you, and you would reluctantly glance up at her again, though you were worried about how she might react, seeing that you were crying. She would falter, a hurt look on her face when she noticed the tears slowly rolling down your cheeks, whilst her heart sank, and her own eyes began to glisten.

You would wince, quickly lifting your free right hand up to wipe your tears away, though your eyes were sore, and this action made them sting a little; you’d been crying for a while, now, unable to stop. “S-Sorry,” you mustered feebly, “I probably look like a mess right now, j-just.. give me five minutes to get over myself.”

“You don’t look like a mess,” Rose contradicted gently, her voice briefly trembling whilst she did, and you would be surprised, before glancing over at her again, and smiling softly in her direction. She would then smile lovingly back at you, before inching closer to you so she could affectionately connect her forehead to your’s whilst she played with your hair using her free left hand, soothing you more than you thought possible. “You look beautiful,” she cooed, flustering you as blood began to rush to your cheeks, and you would feel warm and fuzzy whilst your eyes blissfully locked with her stunning icy blue ones, “like you always do, e-ever since I first met you, and it’s so hard trying not to kiss you, right now.”

“Why are you holding back-?” You teased, and she would appear guilty, for a moment, a pained expression on her face, again. “Right, sorry,” you murmured, before hesitantly pulling away, and bowing your head, making her feel worse; she hated upsetting you like she evidently had, “why-.. why does it hurt so much? It’s been so long, now; I should be used to this, but.. it doesn’t feel any better, and it hasn’t gotten any easier to handle.”

Rose would nod gravely, before staring down at her own now trembling hands. “L-Look,” she began again, “things might hurt, now, but.. the engagement, it’s never gonna change anything between us, I promise-”

“You don’t need to promise me anything,” you mustered, and she would hesitantly look over at you, again, though it was paining her to see you appearing so dejected, as if you were on the verge of losing everything again, “I trust you, I just-.. I think I feel too much.”

You would then rest your head on her left shoulder, and she would smile lovingly over at you, prompting your heart to race again blissfully whilst she rested her own head comfortably on top of your’s. “I’m glad you trust me,” she expressed, “but I wanna promise you something, anyway.” You would appear surprised, as well as flattered, not expecting her to want to do that for you. “I love you, Y/n,” she cooed, “I’ve always loved you, and that will never change, no matter what happens, I promise; you’ll always be my world; my everything, even if we’re never allowed to get married, ourselves, in the future.”

“I’ll always love you, too,” you returned shakily, finding yourself trying not to cry again, and Rose would wrap her arms around you to try and provide comfort to you, prompting you to melt into her embrace, and bury your face into the crook of her neck whilst you began to cry quietly, wondering what you’d done to deserve someone as perfect as her, “y-you have always been everything to me, and you’ll never lose me, n-no matter what happens, I swear, j-just promise me I’ll never lose you; I can’t live without you, Rose, I just can’t-..”

Rose would then lean down a little to delicately connect her lips to your’s, and you would instantly melt into the kiss, smiling softly against her lips whilst you both subconsciously clung to one another as if this would be the last embrace you both shared; as if you were both terrified that one of you might disappear, if you let go of one another. Once the kiss had sadly ended, Rose would connect her forehead to your’s again, whilst you found yourself blissfully getting lost within her eyes. “You’ll never lose me,” she tried to reassure you, her voice close to a whisper, and you would express relief, evidently feeling much better, “don’t ever forget that, okay? It’ll always be you and me - no-one else.” She would then wince, feeling that it was beginning to rain, and try and shelter you to the best of her ability. “Wanna go back, before it starts getting heavier-?” She inquired, and you would nod, before making to get up, but Rose would suddenly pick you up off of the ground, surprising you, as well as amusing you, prompting you to giggle alongside her breathlessly. “You’re adorable,” she remarked, and you would then appear flustered again, prompting her to smirk; she could see that you had now begun to blush again, and she loved it; revelled in the feeling of how she could make you blush so easily. She would then delicately connect her lips to your’s again, before peeking out of the alleyway to check if anyone was nearby, which you tried not to feel disheartened by, burying your face into her left shoulder whilst she carried you back toward the hotel, after determining that there wasn’t anyone around who might see you both alone together, and question what you both had been doing.

~-~

The next day, whilst you all were in the lounge of the hotel after giving yet another half-decent performance following the one in which you’d had an almost overdose, you would find yourself sitting alone in the corner of the room whilst you fought back tears again, and your nostrils were burning a little; you’d recently, without the others seeing you, consumed more of the crushed up Ecstasy pills that you usually did, and you hadn’t yet realised that your nose was bleeding. You couldn’t help, but watch Rose and Joel speaking to disguised members of the Press, appearing as if she was happier than she’d ever been, and you couldn’t help, but begin to doubt again, though she’d promised you that it would only be you and her. You would then bow your head, once the pain grew to be excruciating, and you found you couldn’t hold back your tears any longer; the pain was unbearable, and you didn’t know what to do with yourself anymore, feeling lost and empty all of a sudden, like you used to before Rose had found you living out on the streets. “Hey.” You would be surprised to hear Suki’s voice beside you, and would - when you felt able, of course - lift your head after you’d quickly brushed away your tears. “Here’s a tissue,” she offered, before gesticulating to your bloody nose, “you looked like you needed it.”

“Thanks,” you mustered, your voice close to a whisper, before you accepted the tissue, and held it over your nose; you weren’t surprised to see it was bleeding, as it had been bleeding a lot recently.

“Were you - crying, before I came over?” She inquired, and you would falter, a pained expression on your face, before you quickly bowed your head again, embarrassed.

“No,” you claimed, and Suki would tilt her head partially, “I - I’ve never cried.”

“Maybe where Rose isn’t concerned, but,” Suki mused, and you would grimace, only feeling even more miserable than you had, before, “hey - what happened? You can talk to me - you know that, right?”

“Nothing happened,” you claimed dejectedly, “that’s the problem - as well as the fact that it seems like everything I touch just-.. dies.”

You would then look over at the flower you had been trying to distract yourself with - a pretty pink rose, a variety of which Louisiana had loved since she was a little girl, you recalled her telling you - and how it’s previously pink petals had gotten darker, drier, and more crumpled, as if it had been infected by you fondling it, and Suki would appear puzzled - the flower looked just as it had earlier, to her; very alive, and beautiful, nowhere even near dying. “What do you mean-?” Suki asked, and you would be surprised, looking back at her; you thought she would have noticed it, by now. “The rose is fine,” she clarified, and you would appear confused, before glancing back at it, and it still seemed dead, to you, “are you on the pills again-?”

You would wince, before looking in Rose’s direction; you didn’t want her to start worrying about you again. “No,” you answered too hastily, “I - I’m not, I swear-!”

“Are you ever gonna stop?” She questioned, lowering her voice a little, and you would hesitate, before nodding gravely, and bowing your head again, a pained expression on your face.

“As soon as the pain goes away,” you answered, and Suki would frown, before glancing over at Rose and Joel again.

“You know neither of them wanted it to happen, right? Least of all Rose,” she reminded you, but you wouldn’t respond, often finding yourself doubting, whenever Rose wasn’t by your side, and this thought would prompt you to begin to feel guilty; you hated being clingy, but you were terrified of losing her, and always had been; she was the best thing that had ever happened to you, and no doubt always would be.

“I’m gonna go outside for a bit,” you murmured, before dragging yourself out of the room hastily, and before you knew it, you would begin to feel nauseous, and would end up spending most of the time gagging and leaning over the back wall after you’d been violently sick a couple or so times; it was all too overwhelming - knowing that the engagement was now official; that they’d both soon be getting married, and that there was a lingering possibility that everything could come crashing down, sooner than later, resulting in you losing Rose again, a thought that never failed to make your heart feel as if it were being squeezed, and gradually torn apart excruciatingly, until the space it had been residing in before was empty, like you believed it had been, before she’d found you, and made you feel as if everything would be okay again.

🜚

Once it had started getting dark, you would find yourself now sunk down against the wall, not too far from where you’d been sick; you felt too weak to move, and much too numb, finding yourself even hoping that this would be the moment the drugs would finally take you, but you knew - regardless - that death would still be painful, especially when you knew that it meant you wouldn’t be with Rose if you were taken, now. You would groan, before letting the back of your head fall back onto the wall behind you, allowing you to stare tearfully up at the seemingly black and dark blue sky through sore eyes; you’d been seeming to cry endlessly since you’d awoken to find Rose was no longer by your side in bed.

“There you are-!” A familiar voice chimed, and you would suddenly forget how to breathe all of a sudden, whilst your heart had begun to race; Rose had finally found you. “Suki told me you were out here,” she informed, before crouching down beside you, and you would hesitantly look over at her timidly, prompting her heart to sink; she could tell that you had been crying, and wished she could take back the time, and refuse to go ahead with the engagement. “I was worried about you - there were too many of them to deal with; I would have checked on you sooner if there weren’t,” she explained, “are you okay-?”

You would express relief; Suki hadn’t told her about the Ecstasy you’d evidently taken again, prompting your already soft smile to grow, somehow. “I’m sad,” you claimed, and she would frown, before tilting her head partially, and intertwining the fingers of her left hand with the trembling fingers of your right one, “and I’m going to keep being sad, until you give me a hug.” Rose would then smirk faintly, before nodding, and easing you into a hug to try and provide comfort to you. You would then find yourself trying not to cry again whilst you buried your face into the crook of her neck, clung to her, and would shake a little within her embrace; you couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose her again; how painful it would be, and you would falter, soon beginning to panic again when you found yourself recalling the situation, and how you might end up losing her, if things went wrong.

A strained sob would then manage to escape your lips, and she would feel worse - a pang of sadness hitting her heart all of a sudden, prompting her own eyes to begin to fill with tears alongside your’s whilst she affectionately connected her forehead to your’s. “Hey,” she cooed gently, “t-talk to me - what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” you mustered, your voice close to a whisper; you didn’t want to upset her, or worry her anymore than you had recently, “I - I’m so sorry; this is-.. this is stupid - I don’t know why I’m crying, I-.. I just.. I love you so much, a-and-.. I can’t imagine my life without you in it; I’m terrified-”

“Don’t be,” she interjected, her voice briefly trembling, and you would nod gravely, whilst Rose’s own tears slowly began to stream down her cheeks; she was sick of hurting you like she evidently was, “you’re never gonna lose me, Y/n - I promised, didn’t I? Nothing’s gonna go wrong - I love you, you know that, right?”

You would nod hastily whilst you began to break down further, unable to hold it back any longer than you had previously managed to. “I know,” you answered shakily, “I know, it’s just-.. it - it hurts.. so much; I can’t take it..”

“It won’t hurt for long,” she tried to reassure you, “don’t worry; it’s gonna be okay; we are gonna be okay, no matter what - I know we will; we’ve been through worse than this.” You would nod gravely in agreement, before smiling warmly over at her, and shyly leaning forward to delicately connect your lips to her’s. She would then gradually begin to deepen the kiss after melting into it, before picking you up off of the ground, and rushing you inside; she wanted to make the evening up to you, and knew you both wouldn’t be seen if she snuck you up to your room through the back entrance of the hotel.

🜚

That same night, you would end up having a nightmare in which you woke up to find Rose no longer beside you again, and would be shocked to find her with Joel, and to find that she was acting as if nothing had ever happened between you both; as if you meant nothing to her, and it would positively leave you feeling broken and lost all over again, resulting in you beginning to cry as soon as you’d woken up, but you would try and stay quiet for her, not wanting to worry her again, but despite your efforts to do so, she would soon wake up, after you. “Hey,” she cooed sleepily, whilst wrapping her arms around your waist, and you would tense up, a pained expression on your face, before you turned and threw your arms around her whilst strained, and heavy sobs escaped your lips, “what’s wrong? Was it a nightmare?”

You would nod gravely, before connecting your forehead to her’s. “Rose,” you mustered shakily, your voice close to a whisper, and she would nod, listening to you, “do you.. do you love Joel?”

She would be shocked, a hurt look on her face; she couldn’t believe you might think that. “No-!” She answered, bewildered, and you would appear doubtful, whilst she held you at arm’s length, a pained expression on your face. “I love you,” she whined, wishing you’d believe her, “you, Y/n, no-one else; you’re my soulmate - Joel means nothing to me - nothing, I promise!” You would then bury your face into the crook of her neck, and she would try and provide comfort to you by rubbing your back with her right hand, and kissing your forehead delicately whilst tears began to escape her eyes again, and her heart began to ache alongside your’s. “Look - w-whatever you saw in the nightmare, it wasn’t real,” she reminded you, “and it never will be, ever.”

“I love you so much,” you expressed shakily, and she would delicately lift your face up to her’s.

“I love you, too,” she returned, before gently connecting her lips to your’s, and you would instantly melt into the kiss whilst shyly shuffling closer to her to close the gaps between you both blissfully, “and I always will - n-now get some sleep, if you can, or Rod’ll be mad; there are.. more of those people coming, tomorrow, for-.. y’know..”

You would appear dejected again, and she would frown, before lifting her right hand up to your left cheek, soothing you instantly, and prompting you to find yourself getting lost in her stunning icy blue eyes again. “The photoshoot,” you murmured, and she would nod gravely, “how long will it be-?”

“An hour or so,” she answered, whilst drawing circles on your left cheek with the thumb of her right hand, “nothing more than that, but don’t worry - this is the only one.”

“As if that makes the situation any better,” you murmured, and she would wince, remembering that the wedding would follow a few weeks after tomorrow, “you’ll still be marrying him soon-”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” she reminded you, “you know it’s you I wanna marry, don’t you?” You would hesitate, before nodding gravely, and pulling out of her embrace, prompting another hurt look to cross her face whilst she sat up, and silently begged for you to stay with her; she was afraid - like you with her - of losing you, and even more terrified to think of what her life might be like without you in it, as she’d always imagined you being with her for everything, like you always had and would, with her. “Y/n-”

“I-.. I’m gonna go out for a bit,” you decided, and Rose would falter, before hastily shaking her head; she was worried you’d get hurt, “n-need some air.”

“N-No,” she interjected, managing to catch your right arm, “don’t, please - just-.. just stay.” You would manage to free yourself, and then throw on some simple clothing you had prepared for tomorrow. “I’m sorry, Y/n, I really am - I love you-”

“Save that for Joel, tomorrow,” you mustered, “he’s supposed to be the one you’re in love with, right? Since you’re marrying him-”

“Why are you doing this?” She questioned, and you would shrug, before looking away from her whilst more tears managed to stream down your cheeks, and your heart ached excruciatingly.

“I don’t know,” you answered simply, “maybe because the only person who actually cares about me, and supposedly loves me is marrying someone else when nobody told her that she had to-”

“But I do have to,” Rose contradicted, “if I don’t, they’ll hurt you again, a-and I can’t let that happen-”

“I don’t care if they hurt me again!” You cried, and Rose would falter, before shaking her head. “I just-.. I just want..” You would fall quiet, before bowing your head, prompting her to feel guilty; she hated seeing you like this. “I just want you, Rose,” you managed, “and if you marry him, I - I can’t-.. can’t have you anymore; you’ll always be expected to be with him - d-don’t you see that? And it would just hurt, anyway, t-to know that - that you’re married to him, because I love you; I’ve always loved you, e-ever since I first met you; you - you’ve made me so much happier than I’ve ever been before, but now - now that you’re marrying him - I.. I feel lost again; I don’t know what to do anymore.” You would then hesitantly glance up at her, and your heart would sink when you noticed that she was crying, and appeared crestfallen, as well as frustrated; she didn’t know what to do, either - all she wanted was for you to stay with her, like you subconsciously longed to, and hated yourself for what you were doing. “I’m sorry,” you murmured, “but.. if you marry him, I-.. hope you’ll both be happy together, but.. I won’t be able to stay; it would be too painful - just.. know that I love you, a-and always will, no matter what, if - if you ever decide to change your mind.”

You would then drag yourself out of the room, and as soon as you had gone, a sob would manage to escape Rose’s lips, before she buried her face into her hands and let herself break down again; she couldn’t believe this was happening, and that she could end up losing you again, if she didn’t call off the wedding, something she’d be willing to do if it didn’t mean you might end up getting hurt, or even killed as a result of it; the Press as well as a wide majority of the public would no doubt believe you were to blame for it, and many of those who disagreed with your and her relationship would be all too willing to take the opportunity to try and get you killed for being ‘different’. Once she felt able, she would quickly get dressed, and go out looking for you, desperate to try and fix things between you both, but instead of you, she would find Rod smoking outside, as well as appearing annoyed, himself; you must have run into him, not too long ago now, and she would appear hopeful, rushing up to him.

“Rod-!” She began, and he would grunt, before turning to face her, and lowering his cigarette. “Y/n - have you seen her?” She inquired, and he would nod gravely, worrying her. “W-What’s that look? Where is she?” She pried, and Rod would sigh heavily.

“Down at the bar,” he answered gruffly, and Rose would falter, a pained expression on her face, before she made to go to the bar, but Rod would catch her left arm before she could get too far, “but I wouldn’t try and stop her, if I were you.”

She would grimace, before turning to face him sharply. “Why’s that-?” She questioned, and he would look around, before lowering his voice a little just in case anyone appeared around the corner.

“She needs time, Louisiana,” he answered, and she would begin to feel guilty again, “whatever happened in there sounded like it was - well, bad, and she just seemed-.. seemed to be not in the best state of mind right now.” Rose would nod gravely, before bowing her head a little whilst tears threatened to stream down her cheeks again from her already sore eyes. “I won’t ask you what it was that happened in there, but,” he began again gravely, “I suggest you both sort it out, and quickly - your and Joel’s photoshoot is tomorrow, and we need her onside to make it look more convincing-”

“What?” Rose uttered, glancing up at him, and he would grunt, before lifting his cigarette back up to his lips for a moment. “No!” She hissed, prompting him to roll his eyes, before he let his cigarette drop, and stamped on it to put it out. “We can’t ask her to do that-”

“I already did; in fact, I commanded her to,” he interjected, whilst Rose began to appear fearful; she was worried the upcoming events would only put more pressure on you, and result in you taking more drugs again, as well as find yourself being struck by alcohol poisoning like you had, a couple or so months ago, now, “I don’t know why you’re so against the idea; you want to keep her safe, don’t you? If she gets involved, they won’t be suspicious of her anymore.”

“It’s not just them I’m worried about,” she hissed, “it’s what Y/n might do; I could still lose her if this continues!”

“Not if you both clean up the mess you just made,” he remarked sternly, “I’m going to bed, and I suggest you do the same. Don’t worry, she’ll probably be back in the morning, at the latest; don’t do anything stupid.”

Rod would then drag himself back inside, whilst Rose silently cursed him for making the situation even worse, as well as more complicated. Once she felt able, she would rush down to the closest bar; the one where you’d both often found yourselves going to together, and even confessing secretly within - she couldn’t let you get sick, or hurt again depending on how much alcohol you might be considering having, or had already had, and whether someone ended up recognising you, trying to hurt you, or even trying to take advantage of you, and once she’d finally made it, she would be glad that she had decided to find you, when she found you arguing with some random drunk man who had been sat next to you at the bar, before she’d arrived.

🜸

After you’d already finished the first beer you’d requested, a man would stagger over to the bar, and lean heavily against it, requesting a whiskey, before he looked over at you, and smirked, but you would try and ignore him, keeping your head down. He would then sit down beside you, and you would tense up, whilst your heart began to race a little; you were worried about what he might do. “Hey there,” the man slurred, and you would hesitate, before looking over at him, “you look down.” You would scoff, before looking away from him, a pained expression on your face again, combined with the current irritation you were experiencing. “Anything I can do to cheer you up-?” He inquired, and you would grimace, before glaring over at him again.

“The best way you could possibly cheer me up is to give me some space,” you answered, and he would grin, amused by your reaction, before chuckling, and tilting his head partially after taking a swig of the glass of whiskey that the bartender had just set down in front of him.

“You’re feisty,” he remarked, “I like it - wanna give me your number and maybe we can meet up some time? Or maybe you’d like to go someplace else with me, now?”

You would scowl, especially when you felt him place his left hand on your right leg. “You’re barking up the wrong tree,” you replied, “completely, so I suggest you try and keep it in your pants, got that?”

“That’s the problem,” he began again, before leaning closer to you, and you would wince; the stench of whiskey radiating off of him was burning your nostrils, “I don’t think I can, especially not when I’m around women like you - c’mon, surely you’re just here for fun, like I am-” You would then, unable to hold yourself back, slap him across the face, and he would appear shocked, before getting up out of his seat, appearing as if he would hit you back, but you would then instinctively get up after him, and hastily move away before he could. You would then reach for your empty bottle of beer, smash it on the bar, before holding it protectively in front of you whilst some of the other locals looked on in disbelief, horror, and amusement. “How dare you hit me you - you bitch,” he spat, but before he could lunge at you, the bartender, as well as one of the other men from the closest table, would manage to hold him back, when Rose walked in, and you would hesitantly look over at the door, and falter, the bottle slipping from your shaky right hand.

“Rose,” you whispered shakily, and she would appear shocked at the scene before her, evidently not expecting it.

“What’s-” Before she could finish her sentence, you would rush over to her, and throw your arms around her, surprising her, but she would relax instantly a brief moment after she’d returned the hug. You then couldn’t hold yourself back anymore, beginning to cry quietly into her left shoulder, and she would rub your back with her right hand to try and provide comfort to you.

“What’s she crying for?” The man uttered, whilst the bartender made sure to keep him at bay, and Rose would shoot a glare in his direction, before she hesitantly let go of you, and you would whimper quietly at the loss of contact.

“Why don’t you mind your own business?” She retorted, and you would try not to panic whilst Rose drew closer to the bar, you following closely behind her.

“Why don’t you?” He snapped back, before reaching for his whiskey, but Rose would manage to grab it before he could. “Hey-”

“This your’s-?” She inquired, before pouring the whiskey into the closest trash can, and setting the now empty glass back down, and the man would appear even redder than he had, before, whilst Rose smirked back at him, amused by his reaction. “Do me a favour,” she continued, whilst you timidly intertwined the fingers of your left hand with the fingers of her right hand, “don’t cry over spilt milk - c’mon, Y/n.”

She then slowly led you out of the bar, and once you were outside, you would timidly stop walking, prompting her to stop alongside you, allowing you to shyly lean closer to her and kiss her right cheek, surprising, as well as flustering her a little whilst she smiled lovingly over at you. “You didn’t have to do that for me - you know that, right?” You mustered, your voice barely audible, and she would nod, before wrapping her arms around your waist.

“I know,” she reassured you gently, “but I wanted to; you don’t deserve to be treated like that; I would never let it slide.” She would then appear nervous, and you would guess that Rod had told her about the command he’d given you. “Look - about what Rod said-”

“It’s fine,” you claimed, and she would frown, before shaking her head gravely; she didn’t want you to feel as if you had to do that; to get more closely involved with the engagement, when she knew it would hurt you even more to do so, “I get it; I should try and be more involved, f-for you. He was right - it would be less suspicious, and more realistic if I did, a-and-.. I wanna do everything to keep you safe, Rose; I don’t care if anything happens to me again, j-just-.. just you.”

She would shake her head again, not wanting to be reminded of what had happened at that concert, before the band had moved back to Louisiana; how you’d gotten yourself shot instead of her. “Nothing’s gonna happen to you,” she mused, easing you into a hug again whilst she did, evidently trying to provide comfort to you, as well as herself, and you would try and soothe her further by returning the hug, “I’m never gonna let anyone hurt you ever again, I promise; I can’t. L-Look, if - if you get upset, just tell me, and I’ll tell Rod you can’t do it anymore; I won’t let him make you get involved anymore - just.. don’t try and hide it from me, please; I want you to be happy.”

“I won’t hide anything from you, I promise,” you managed, though you were on the verge of breaking down again, and she would express relief, before smiling lovingly over at you again, prompting your heart to skip a beat, and to begin blissfully racing alongside her’s again, “I love you so much, Rose.”

Rose would delicately ease you closer to her so she could connect her forehead affectionately to your’s, and you would let your eyelids flutter shut, for a moment, wishing you both could stay like this forever. “I love you, too,” she returned, “and that’ll never change, no matter what, a-and I swear I’ll try and think of a way to stop the wedding; I can’t lose you again.”

“You won’t lose me,” you reassured, before lifting your right hand up to her left cheek, and she would instantly melt into your touch subconsciously whilst her eyes locked with your’s in the best way possible, “e-even if.. the wedding still goes ahead.”

Rose would appear shocked, not expecting that. “What-?” She mustered barely audibly, and you would avoid her gaze, for a moment, though you longed to get lost in her eyes again.

“I was thinking about it, I guess,” you explained, “and.. I just.. I don’t know - I can’t leave; I can’t be away from you again, and-.. since we might never be able to get married, ourselves.. I thought that maybe it - it would be nice for you to be able to experience it, yourself, even if it’s not-.. with me.”

“I don’t know,” Rose mused, a pained expression on her face, “I don’t wanna hurt you again, o-or make you hate me for not even trying to stop it-”

“I could never hate you,” you reminded her, “don’t ever worry about that happening, because it never could; I love you too much to.”

She would appear doubtful, as well as anxious; she was still worried that she might lose you if the wedding ended up going ahead. “You wouldn’t be - angry?” She pried, and you would hastily shake your head.

“Angry? No,” you claimed, not wanting her to worry any further than she already had been, “sad - maybe, b-but.. not for long - I’ll be happy again, w-when I remember I haven’t lost you, and whenever you’re with me.” She would smile softly, as well as sadly, over at you, wondering what she’d done to deserve someone as good as you, whilst you would - unbeknownst to her - find yourself wondering what you’d done to deserve someone as perfect as her. “It’s funny, isn’t it-? How people say it’s easier to be angry, than to be sad,” you mused, “w-when it’s so much easier to just be sad.”

“It is,” she agreed, whilst blissfully playing with your hair using her left hand, and you would then affectionately boop the tip of her nose with your’s, prompting her to beam over at you, and you would instantly return the smile whilst your heart overwhelmingly began to beat against your ribcage, as if it longed to escape, and be closer to her’s, “but don’t worry - I’m still gonna fight to try and stop it; I can’t not try, e-especially when I don’t even want to marry Joel, or like him, n-not whilst I’m - still heavily infatuated with you.”

You would smirk, before lifting an eyebrow. “You’re infatuated with me-?” You teased, and she would nod, whilst blood began to rush to her cheeks; she’d begun to blush quite prominently, allowing you to see it though it was dark. “T-That’s good,” you replied, “because - I’m heavily infatuated with you, too.”

“Thank god for that,” she responded, “I was worried, there.”

You would scoff, doubting that. “You were worried? I should have been the one who was worried,” you remarked, and she would be surprised, shaking her head a little in response, “you’re perfect, whilst I’m-”

“Don’t,” she whined, “there’s nothing wrong with you, Y/n; you’re amazing, and perfect; I wish I were as perfect as you are.”

You would appear to still be doubtful, but she would delicately connect her lips to your’s before you could protest anymore than you had, and you would instantly melt into the kiss, forgetting what you had been about to say before she’d so blissfully silenced you. “I-..” You mustered shakily once the kiss had sadly ended, and Rose would grin over at you, finding your reaction adorable. “Y-You’re-.. magical, honestly,” you managed, and she would giggle, amused, “h-how do you do that? Make every kiss feel like the first one we ever shared? I’ve been meaning to ask you about that for a while now, actually, because you’re somehow using your magic to make me fall even deeper in love with you every day, too - and you’ve managed to steal my heart, somehow - stealing is rude, did you know that?”

“Hey, you stole mine,” she reminded you playfully, and you would wince, remembering, “that was rude - I could get the police on you for that, you know that, right?”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you replied, beaming victoriously up at her whilst your eyes glinted alongside her stunning icy blue ones, “besides - wouldn’t you rather punish me, yourself?”

She would appear flustered, for a moment, before smirking over at you, and nodding. “I’d love to, actually,” she answered, “c’mon; I gotta teach you a lesson.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you replied, after giggling again, and rushing back to the hotel with her for your ‘punishment’ - it delighted the both of you to see and feel that things were starting to look up for you both again - maybe it would be okay, after all - for now, anyway.

~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed it! ❤️