#already 13 months of being a fan

[hammill-goes-fogwalking]

aah peter hammill and his horny teenager music. I'm so grateful to have discovered these goofy jerks

[persevereforahappyending]

A Legacies Secret |8|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You just wanted a happy life with your girlfriend but then Ghostface attacks, revealing long thought to be buried family secrets.

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 6.7k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Sam wiped away her tears as she left Tara’s hospital room. She jumped as the door slammed closed behind her. Tara didn’t need her, she had you now, maybe Tara never needed her. She left, she didn’t have a right to tell Tara what to do or judge the decisions she made. Sam left and her little sister grew up without her, she was an adult who had no need for her big sister anymore.

Sam once again jumped back when she turned away from the door and right into Richie. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s me,” Richie said softly, holding up his hands to show he wasn’t a threat. “It’s okay.”

“Were you listening at the door?” Sam asked, staring at Richie. It was kind of obvious he was listening at the door, just as you probably were, given how quickly you ran into the room. She needed to hear Richie confirm it himself though.

“No, no, of course not,” Richie tried to wave it off. “Okay, yeah, I was listening at the door,” he just as quickly caved, admitting he in fact was eavesdropping.

“It doesn’t freak you out, that my real father was a serial killer?”

Sam searched his face, wondering why he hadn’t run the second he learned the truth. Sam hated her birth father, she hated herself, she hated being related to him, as much as she loved her sister, she couldn’t blame Tara for hating her now as well, she fully expected the same from Richie. You already weren’t a fan of hers, learning this would probably make you officially hate her even more. Sam couldn’t see how anyone could like her, let alone love her, knowing who her father was and what he did. 

“I mean, yeah,” Richie nodded, giving her an awkward smile. “A great deal.” 

“Okay, go, I get it,” Sam shook her head, trying to keep control of her breathing and not breakdown. She had met an awesome guy, a nice guy, and now she had ruined that relationship, just like every other relationship in her life, all because of who her father was. “I just got to stay and figure it out.” Sam didn’t care if Tara hated her, she didn’t care if her sister never wanted to see her again, this was all her fault and she wasn’t leaving until she learned who attacked her sister, she wouldn’t rest until she knew her sister was safe. 

“I’m not leaving you here Sam.” He said it so simply, as if leaving her there alone never even crossed his mind. Sam couldn’t see how that was a possibility, if Richie were smart, he’d leave her, anyone else would have. 

“If you were smart, you’d get the fuck out.” 

“Well, then maybe I’m not smart,” Richie said softly, stepping forward and taking Sam’s hands in his own. “Because I’m staying.” Sam looked up at him in disbelief, she truly couldn’t believe the words she was hearing, she couldn’t fathom why any sane person would stay when all this was going on, why anyone would stay with her knowing how messed up she was. 

Richie looked down, opening a closing his mouth slightly as if he were nervous to say what he wanted to say before looking back up, looking Sam directly in the eye. “I love you,” he said, his voice shaking with each word. Sam’s eyes darted around, searching his face, she truly couldn’t believe he said that. It was the first time Richie had ever said those words to her, she wasn’t sure if him choosing this moment proved how much he loved her or proved how crazy he was for being willing to stay during this insanity. 

“You’re a dumbass,” Sam said. She wasn’t ready to say those words back yet, she wasn’t sure what was keeping her from it, she had known Richie for six months and they had gotten along right away, becoming friends long before they started dating. Sam just couldn’t bring herself to say ‘I love you’ back. 

“So, your sister won’t talk to you,” Richie caressed Sam’s face, then began running his hands through her hair. “The police aren’t going to help, what’s our next move?” 

Sam’s eyes widened slightly as she realized what Richie said was true. She knew Judy had an officer on Tara’s room and others in the hospital, but they still weren’t anywhere close to actually figuring out who Ghostface was, so they were truly on their own in trying to catch this psycho. “We go talk to an expert.” 

Sam approached the trailer of Dewey Riley, with Richie right behind her, one of the perks of living in a small town was it was pretty easy to find someone, it took her less than a minute to get Dewey’s address. She didn’t know what to do, the only thing that made sense was talking to someone who was there at the beginning, who had survived this kind of stuff before. Technically Sheriff Hicks also survived but she didn’t like Sam and she barely counted as being apart of the whole thing. Therefore, it left Dewey, he was also the only one still in town, everyone else was either dead or had some sense and got out of town. 

Dewey was still sheriff before she left town, he was sheriff during all the trouble she caused. She had remembered seeing Dewey around the station, but she had never interacted with him. It was always deputy Hicks she had the displeasure of interacting with. Sam was also never officially arrested, Judy usually brought her home, occasionally when she was feeling petty, she’d cuff Sam, throw her in the back of the cruiser, and bring her down to the station until her mom could pick her up. No, the only person Sam saw Dewey regularly interact with was you. 

“Go away!” a voice shouted from inside the trailer as soon as Sam knocked on the door. 

“Sorry to bother you Mr. Riley,” she yelled back. “We just want to ask you a few questions.” She really needed Dewey to open the door, if he didn’t talk to them, she wasn’t sure what she would do, she had no idea how to prepare for a psycho coming after her and her sister. 

“I don’t give interviews.” Dewey sounded more irritated. Sam couldn’t blame him, she couldn’t imagine what his life has been like, surviving all those attacks and being good friends with Sidney Prescott. Dewey’s life was probably filled with nonstop questions, people and reports asking him to describe what happened to himself and to his friends. It couldn’t have been easy being constantly asked to relive probably some of the worst days of your life. 

“We’re not looking for an interview.” 

Dewey’s face suddenly appeared in the little window of the door to his trailer. “Give me one good reason I should talk to you.” 

“I’m Billy Loomis’s daughter,” Sam said, staring Dewey right in the eyes. This was the first time she said she was Billy’s daughter and didn’t hesitate, she didn’t question the words leaving her mouth. 

The next thing she knew Dewey was opening the door. “That’s a terrible reason for me to talk to you.” Dewey was no longer yelling, Sam wasn’t sure if that was a plus though, he just seemed exhausted now. 

“My name is Samantha Carpenter,” Sam continued, Dewey at least opened the door, and she didn’t intend to back down now. “I was attacked last night at the hospital. The night before that my sister was stabbed seven times. I know you know what that’s like,” she said the last part softly. She might have wanted Dewey’s help, but she didn’t want to seem unsympathetic. “I’m just trying to protect my family,” Sam sighed. “Five minutes, that’s all I’m asking.” 

“I’ll give you two minutes,” Dewey agreed, though he sounded firm in only giving them two minutes. Sam wished it had been more, but she wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity, this could be the only chance to get some advice from someone who survived not one attack but multiple. “I’m missing a show I like.” Dewey went back into his trailer, leaving the door open for Sam and Richie to enter. 

“Gale Weathers,” Richie said as he and Sam walked into the trailer. Dewey had her morning show on but quickly turned it off as the three of them sat down. “Weren’t you two…” Sam held in a sigh; she was starting to regret bringing Richie along with her. 

“Yeah,” Dewey said in a tone that made it clear he didn’t want to talk about it. Dewey took an aggressive sip of his coffee, flicking a glare at Richie before focusing his attention on Sam. “Who’s he?” he nodded to Richie. 

“This is Richie,” Sam said. “My boyfriend.” 

Richie smiled, readjusting in his seat as if he were about to offer his hand to Dewey and introduce himself. “How long have you known him?” Dewey never gave him a chance to introduce himself, he never even looked at him again, he just got right down to business. 

Sam was a little taken aback by the question. “Six months,” she answered anyway, though she was a little confused as to why Dewey was asking. 

“Did he know who your dad was when you met? Express any interest in Woodsboro or the Ghostface killings?” 

Sam gave an awkward smile, turning to look at Richie, she wasn’t sure if Dewey was actually serious. She came to him for advice not to be questioned about her relationship. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Richie asked awkwardly. He kept glancing at Sam as if wanting her to confirm if Dewey was serious. 

“Your killer is obsessed with the Stab movies, right?” Dewey asked, leaning back in his chair. Sam nodded, hesitant but curious as to where he was going with this. “Well, there’s certain rules to surviving a Stab movie. Believe me, I know.” Dewey looked off to the side, looking out the window as if his mind went to another place for a second. “Rule number one, never trust the love interest,” he shook his head, looking right at Richie. “They seem sweet, caring, supportive, but then welcome to act three, where they’re trying to rip your head off.” 

“I was with Sam in Modesto when Tara was attacked,” Richie said, instantly defending himself. Sam was looking at Richie, nodding her head to confirm what he was saying. They were together that whole night, she didn’t even get the call about Tara until the next morning. 

“And let me guess,” Dewey continued, sounding more cynical as he went on. “You were just in the other room, conveniently unaccounted for when she was attacked at the hospital.” 

“Okay, do I have to take this from shitty Sam Elliot over here, or what?” 

“Rule number two.” Sam slowly looked from Richie back to Dewey. “The killer’s motive,” he was still glaring at Richie as he spoke. “Is always connected to something in the past.” 

“I’m related to Billy,” Sam said. She already knew Tara was most likely attacked because of her; she knew even before Ghostface said he knew her secret; she knew the moment Wes said Tara was attacked by someone in a Ghostface mask. Hearing Dewey practically confirm it though wasn’t easy, Tara was basically attacked all because Sam was the daughter of a serial killer. 

“Right,” Richie said, nodding along. “But then why kill that random Vince guy?” 

Sam nodded at that; Vince seemed like a random victim. Tara was the first victim, then she herself was attacked at the hospital but it didn’t seem like Ghostface actually wanted to kill her, more like just scare her. You and Tara’s friends were all at that bar, you worked at the bar, you had been outside seconds after Vince was attacked, meaning Ghostface wanted Vince for some reason, no one else. 

“That’s for you to figure out,” Dewey said. “And rule number three, and this is the most important rule.” Sam turned in her seat so she could give Dewey her full attention. “The first victim always has a friend group, that the killer is apart of.” Sam nodded along, she remembered that being a theme in all the movies from the one time she saw them, and hearing about the real-life stories. “Does your sister have a closeknit group of friends?” 

“Yeah,” Sam said, nodding, Tara had exactly that. “She does.” 

“Then look for the killer there.” 

She knew Dewey’s logic; she knew from his experience that this was always how it went down. Sam couldn’t imagine it though; she couldn’t picture any of Tara’s friends attacking her. Tara knew all of her friends since she was a little kid, Sam baby sat all of them, they literally grew up together, Sam watched them grow up. The only person who was new to the group, or she guessed more so, new to Tara’s life, was you. 

“If you can find out why they’re doing this,” Dewey continued. “You can figure out who’s next.” That made sense as well; despite never understanding why someone would dress up and kill all their friends, the killer always had some sort of twisted motive and that motive tended to explain who their victims were and would be. 

“So, help us,” Sam tried pleading. She knew it was a long shot. Dewey hadn’t even wanted to let them in his trailer to talk, the odds of him agreeing to get involved were zero to none. “Help us figure out who’s behind this.” 

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Dewey sighed, sounding more exhausted than he had since opening the door. “I’ve been stabbed nine times, I’ve got permanent nerve damage, and a fun little limp. You think I want to do that again?” he let out a humorless chuckle. 

“You just said it always goes back to the past.” Sam still intended to try her hardest to convince Dewey to help, she didn’t think she could figure this out on her own, she needed help. “Right?” Dewey reluctantly nodded, seeming to know where she was about to go with this. “So, if I’m in danger, that means you’re in danger.” Dewey seemed to take in her words as he was suddenly unable to meet her gaze. “Come on, let’s do this, together.” 

There was a split second that it almost seemed like Dewey was going to agree to help them. “Your time’s up,” he said instead. He quickly stood up, walking to his door and holding it open for them. 

Sam rolled her eyes as she pushed herself off the couch and stomped out of the trailer, Richie following close behind her. As soon as they were out the door Dewey slammed the door closed. Sam couldn’t blame him for not wanting to get involved, it was insane for someone to willingly get involved in this mess, she had just told Richie that before coming to see Dewey. That didn’t mean she wasn’t still annoyed that Dewey wouldn’t help them. She figured out of everyone else in the world the person most likely to help would be someone who had survived what they’re going through now, Dewey knew quite literally what they were going through, and he still refused to help. 

“Okay, what’s next?” Richie asked as they made their way back to the car. 

“The friends,” Sam said, easily catching the keys as Richie tossed them to her. She didn’t want to suspect Tara’s friends, but they were the only ones that made sense. 

Before starting the car, she shot a quick text to Wes, asking him to gather the others. Wes quickly texted back saying he’d do it. Sam sat there for a few minutes when another text from Wes came through. Wes had said the others all agreed to meet at Mindy and Chad’s, since they were the niece and nephew of one of the victims of the second killings it made sense to meet at their house. Sam started the car and quickly pulled out of the trailer park, not carrying if she was speeding on her way to Mindy and Chad’s. 

Sam pulled into Mindy and Chad’s driveway, seeing a few more cars there as well. As they were walking up to the door Sam heard another car door closing. She turned around and couldn’t help but smile when she saw Dewey walking up to them. 

“You came,” she said when he was close enough. She truly thought he wasn’t going to help them, that she was completely on her own in trying to figure this out. 

“Let’s get this over with,” Dewey sighed, leading the way to the door. 

Mindy opened the door, leading them to the family room and telling them the others were already there. Sam had only been in the Meeks-Martin household a handful of times when babysitting the twins, but it hadn’t seemed to change much over the years. 

Sam stood in front of the others, she had just opened her mouth, ready to tell them that she was the daughter of Billy Loomis, when there was a knock at the door. Martha Meeks quickly ran to the door, happily greeting whoever it was. Sam glanced back and had to do a double take when she saw you walking into the room. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked. She asked them to gather everyone, she didn’t realize that meant you as well. She was honestly surprised you left Tara’s side for something like this, considering you refused to go to work until Tara basically ordered you to. 

“Tara asked me to come,” you said. Sam let out a hum, now that made sense. She wondered how much convincing it took to get you to leave Tara’s side. “You all have exactly one hour,” you pulled out your phone, quickly typing off a text to someone. “So, let’s get this over with.” You pushed past Sam and took a seat on the far end of the couch, putting yourself as far away from everyone else as you could get. 

“Why are you here?” Dewey asked. He squinted his eyes, watching you carefully even though you hadn’t so much as glanced at him. 

“Tara’s my girlfriend,” you said. “Going to arrest me for that? Sheriff,” you made sure to say that last part with all the sarcasm. 

Dewey narrowed his eyes at you. “How long have you been together?” 

You rolled your eyes, clearly not enjoying yet another person questioning your relationship. Sam would bet money that it also didn’t help that the one questioning your relationship is the cop who used to always deal with you. 

“It will be two years in December,” you sighed, obviously getting more irritated. “Can we move this along, please,” you looked up, meeting Sam’s eyes. “I would like to get back to Tara.” 

Sam nodded, she didn’t want to shift the attention back to herself but you and Dewey arguing wouldn’t get them anywhere, especially if you ended up storming out before they even got started. “Alright,” Sam said nervously. She glanced back to see Richie giving her an encouraging smile. “I’m the daughter of Billy Loomis.” 

Everyone’s mouths fell open. Sam could practically see their brains trying to process the information. Sam quickly ran to take her seat on the couch, not wanting to be the center of attention anymore. She spared a glance at you, seeing you weren’t shocked, she figured you overheard her conversation with Tara or Tara told you herself. Your jaw was clenched as you stared off across the room, your hands balled into fists, and you refused to look at Sam. 

Mindy was the first to break out of her shock by instantly jumping to her feet and running to the closet they had filled with movies. Sam furrowed her brow as she watched Mindy shuffle around the movies, until finally finding what she was looking for and popping it into the DVD player. Sam suppressed a sigh when she saw it wasn’t Stab Mindy had put on but Stab: The True Story. It was basically a documentary of the true story, though no one who actually survived what happened was involved in the making of it or was interviewed. Sam was pretty sure Gale Weathers was involved in some way, but the documentary was mostly made up of pictures and found footage, with a ‘expert’ who had done their research and talked about what happened. 

“So, you’re saying that you’re the daughter of Billy Loomis,” Chad said, being the first to break the silence. “And that, what, one of us is the killer?” he gestured at himself and his friends. 

“The killer told me he knew my secret,” Sam said. It was clear Chad didn’t appreciate him and his friends being accused of being a killer but based on the history, it was always someone in the friend group. “He attacked Tara to lure me back here.” Sam caught you clenching your fists tighter as her words, she assumed you had already figured that part out as well. 

“But then why immediately go and murder some douche-nozzle that was stalking Liv?” 

“And why does it have to be one of us?” Wes asked. “What about deputy Dewey here? Maybe he’s the killer.” Wes shrugged. “No offense.” 

“None taken,” Dewey said. “But what’s my motive?” 

“You got stabbed a billion times, got dumped by your famous wife, and crawled into a bottle,” Wes listed off. “I think it’s safe to say you’re on the suspect list.” 

Sam let out a small sigh, she had gone to Dewey for help but what Wes said made sense. As hard for her as it was to admit it still seemed one of the friends was more likely involved than Dewey. Wes’s argument was good but Dewey suddenly snapping after all these years and going after some random kids didn’t make much sense. 

“Well, maybe you’re the killer,” Dewey said. “Cause that cut deep.” 

“That douche-nozzle is connected,” Amber said. “I googled him. His mom is Leslie Macher. Stu Macher’s sister.” 

“Who’s Stu Macher?” Liv asked. 

“He’s Billy Loomis’s accomplice,” Dewey answered, leaning forward in his seat again. 

“Okay, okay,” Sam said, nodding along, everything was finally starting to make sense. “So, the first three attacks are all on people related to the original killers.” 

“Oh my god,” Mindy said, shooting up from her seat. “He’s making a requel.” 

Everyone looked at Mindy like she had grown two head. “A what?” Sam decided to be the one to ask. 

“Like a sequel, fans are confused or torn on the terminology.” 

“God,” Chad sighed. “Please speak English.” Sam couldn’t help but agree, she understood what a sequel was, but she had no idea what the hell a requel was or what the hell Mindy was talking about. 

“Okay,” Mindy sighed, sitting up straight as she got serious about this topic. “Do you remember the Stab movie that came out last year?” 

“Oh, yeah, the one the Knives Out guy directed,” Liv said, seeming to know exactly what Mindy was talking about. Sam was still lost but decided to just wait and see where they were going with this. “You know, I actually really liked that one.” 

“Of course you did, you have terrible taste.” Sam rolled her eyes as Liv and Mindy had their little argument, even when she was a kid Mindy the habit of being a bit of a movie snob. “The point is the hardcore Stab fans hated it.” 

Sam sighed, beginning to tune Mindy out as she rambled on and on about why the fans hated the movie. She didn’t really care about a shitty sequel to a relatively basic franchise. She was hoping Mindy actually had a point to all this and her random movie knowledge about Stab would actually be useful. 

“What’s wrong with elevated horror?” Amber asked, joining in on the conversation. 

Mindy then went on to rant about how elevated horror was great, but it wasn’t Stab. The only reason Sam had some semblance of an idea as to what elevated horror was because even as a kid Tara loved that stuff. As Mindy said, Stab was a typical slasher whodunit type of movie, Stab wasn’t elevated horror. 

“Come on, it’s just a movie,” Sam sighed, rolling her eyes. She had to speak up, she couldn’t stand listening to them argue about movies and their deeper meaning, they were just movies, they were in the real world where her sister was really attacked. 

“No, it’s not,” Mindy said instantly. “To some people the original is their favorite thing in the world.” Sam couldn’t wrap her head around that, she got liking movies, but not loving one so much someone would begin to blur a movie with real life. “The movie that made them love horror. The movie that mom or dad showed them when they were ten and bonded them together.” Once again, Sam got that, she understood bonding with someone over a movie and both enjoying that. “And god help anyone who fucks with that special memory, who makes a movie that disrespects it.” 

Sam could sort of understand that as well. She truly understood loving a movie growing up and then a few years later someone deciding to cash in on that love by making a sequel or spin-off or something involving those characters and that world. It rarely worked out, it was usually made as a cash grab and not for the fans, then the new fans had a habit of hating it. Being pissed about a bunch of shitty sequel movies to your childhood favorite didn’t give someone the right to go around dressed up like the killer from the movies. That’s where Mindy was losing Sam. Sam didn’t get how someone could take a simple movie so far. 

“It sounds like,” Mindy continued, getting up from her seat before Sam could even think about interrupting her again. “Our killer is writing his own version of Stab Eight but doing it as a requel.” Mindy raised her hands, nodding to herself, clearly proud of her theory. 

Sam would admit, it was a good theory, that didn’t answer her original question though. “Which is?” Dewey asked. Sam was glad he still didn’t get it; she didn’t want to ask Mindy again. 

Mindy sighed, clapping her hands together as she tried to contain her clear irritation at them not getting it. “See, you can’t just reboot a franchise from scratch anymore, the fans won’t stand for it. Black Christmas, Childs Play, Flatliners,” she began gesturing around the room at her friends. “That shit doesn’t work! But you can’t just do a straight sequel either. You got to build something new but not too new or the internet goes bug fucking nuts,” she rolled her eyes. 

“It’s got to be a part of an ongoing storyline, even if the storyline shouldn’t have been ongoing in the first place. New main characters, yes,” she gestured around the room as if all of them were the new main characters. “But supported by and related to legacy characters,” she pointed at Dewey. “Not quite a reboot, not quite a sequel. Like, the new Halloween, Saw, Terminator, Jurassic Park, Ghostbusters, fuck, even Star Wars! It always, always, goes back to the original,” she picked up the first Stab movie to help emphasize what she meant. 

Sam was beginning to fully understand what Mindy was trying to say. “Are you telling me,” Sam started. “That I’m caught in the middle of fan fucking fiction?” she couldn’t believe this, it was even more insane than she ever imagined. She figured someone was pissed because she was Billy’s daughter not because they were hurt that the sequel to their favorite movie was total garbage. 

“Not just in the middle Sam,” Mindy said, a lot calmer than she had been than when she was rambling about the movies. “You’re the star.” Sam could only stare at Mindy, her mouth slightly agape. She knew she was the reason Tara was attacked but she didn’t think she was the reason all this was happening. 

“So, not to put like to fine a point on it,” Liv said. “But according to requel rules, who’s next?” Sam looked at Liv, her eyes coasting across everyone else. She wanted to figure out who the killer was but knowing who the next victim might be was just as important. 

“Going by the pattern,” Mindy said slowly. “Whoever it is has to be connected to someone that came before.” 

They all slowly turned to look at Dewey, he was the only one connected to the original killings. “I’m starting to regret coming,” Dewey said. Sam knew she told Dewey he was probably a target as well, but she didn’t realize how true her words might have been. 

“Jesus, my mom is a character in one of them,” Wes said, sitting up a little straighter. 

“No one cares about the shitty inferior sequels Wes,” Minday said with an eyeroll. “You’re safe.” She turned her attention to her brother. “With Randy as our uncle though, you and I are probably screwed. 

“Wait, what?” Chad asked. Despite literally being Mindy’s twin, he didn’t share the same passion for horror and movies that she did. It seemed as though he didn’t realize that being the nephew of one of the only survivors of the original attacks put a target on his back. 

“Or you’re the killer,” Richie began, laughing Mindy’s theories off. “And this whole elaborate monologue is just to cover your tracks. 

“I think it’s pretty clear who the killer is at this point,” Mindy said, laughing off Richie’s accusation. 

“Who?” Sam asked.  She was staring at Mindy, she had no idea who the killer could be, she didn’t know how Mindy could figure it out so quickly. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Amber said, interrupting whatever Mindy was about to say. Everyone looked at Amber, but her glare was solely focused on you. 

You let out a humorless chuckle, shaking your head. You didn’t seem happy that you were being accused but you certainly didn’t seem surprised. “Are you serious? What’s my motive?” you shrugged. 

Amber shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re dating Tara.” 

“Never trust the love interest,” Mindy mumbled. 

You snapped your gaze from Amber to Mindy, you actually seemed hurt that she was agreeing with Amber. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” you gestured, looking around the room. Sam did the same, seeing everyone staying silent, all of them either looking at the floor or at you like you were the prime suspect, the only one who looked the slightest bit guilty was Liv, she refused to look at you, opting to keep her eyes on the floor. 

“If I can’t have her, no one will,” Amber said. “Classic motive.” 

“The thing is,” you leaned forward, glaring back at Amber just as intently. “I already have her.” Despite Sam’s feelings on you she had to side with you there, you were already dating Tara, had been for a while now. There was no reason for you to attack Tara, there was no one for you to be jealous of and this wasn’t some twisted version of unrequited love. 

“Maybe you’re threatened.” 

“By who? You?” you scoffed, literally laughing at the idea of being threatened by Amber “Please! As if.” 

“Tara knows you’re not good enough.” Amber smirked, her eyes taking on a dangerous look. Sam had no idea what happened to warrant the animosity between you and Amber, but it was very clear where Amber stood regarding you. 

“That’s not true.” You shook your head, but Sam could swear she caught a glimmer of doubt in your eye. She didn’t think you necessarily believe Amber’s words but there was probably a part of you that truly didn’t think you were good enough for Tara, that she deserved better than anything you could offer her. 

“What could you possibly offer her?” 

“You’re trying to get me to doubt my relationship,” you kept your voice low as you pointed at Amber. “I don’t know why,” you shook your head. “It won’t work though. Tara’s love is the one thing I have never doubted.” Sam hated to admit it, but she admired your devotion to Tara and your commitment to each other. 

“Why are you still here?” Amber continued to poke. “You always talk about how much you hate this place, you literally despise this town.” Amber leaned forward, staring right into your eyes. So why are you still here?” 

“For Tara!” you shot to your feet. “I stayed for her,” your voice cracked. Everyone got silent, all of them dropping their eyes to the floor, except for Amber; Sam seemed to be the only other one willing to still look at you. 

“I was actually going to say Sam was the prime suspect,” Mindy was the first to speak up. Sam’s eyes widened; her mouth dropped open as she stared at Mindy. “Daughter of the original mastermind,” Mindy looked up, meeting Sam’s eyes. “It makes sense,” she shrugged.  

“But you,” she shifted her gaze to you. “You have nothing and no one, your parents abandoned you, you were a troubled teen, hated this small town, until magically you got your shit together, turning your life around, then began dating Tara, who just happens to be Sam’s sister. You knew Sam before, no?” you only acknowledged her with a glare. “The perfect suspect, one that’s seemingly unsuspecting.” 

You let out a humorless chuckle. Sam watched as you looked around the room, seeing how no one argued with Amber’s accusation or Mindy’s logic. “Fuck you,” you spit out before storming out of the house, making sure to slam the door behind you. 

“Yeah, because that doesn’t scream guilty,” Amber mumbled under her breath. “Well, this has been fun.” Amber stood up from her seat. 

“Where are you going?” Sam asked. 

Amber rolled her eyes. “Home. Unless you want to accuse anymore of us?” Amber gestured around before making her way out of the house without a goodbye. 

Wes was the next to go but unlike Amber he actually gave a short goodbye to everyone before quickly running out the door. Last was Liv, she gave Chas a quick kiss, saying something about having to go to work and then she left as well. 

Sam sighed, figuring it was time they left as well, she didn’t want to overstay her welcome after basically accusing the entire friend group of murder and after sort of being accused by Mindy. “Well, that went well,” Sam said, as she, Richie, and Dewey stepped outside. 

Dewey gave a small shrug. “Now, what’s your plan?” Dewey asked. 

“Hopefully food,” Richie mumbled. 

Sam ran a hand through her hair. Gathering everyone together had been simultaneously useful and not. They now had a theory on what the killer was doing, they knew his victims were those related to legacy characters, but they still weren’t any closer to knowing who the killer was. 

“I need to get back to the hospital,” Sam sighed. Even if Tara didn’t want to talk to her, she needed to try. She didn’t like the idea of leaving Tara alone in the hospital too long, especially overnight, even if that meant sleeping in a chair outside her room or in the waiting room. 

“I was hoping for something besides hospital food,” Richie groaned. 

Sam sighed, she really didn’t want to waste time going to get food. “I can give you a ride to the hospital,” Dewey offered. 

“Are you sure?” Sam asked. 

Dewey nodded. “Yeah, it’ll give me the chance to ask some questions anyway.” 

Sam tossed her keys to Richie. Richie didn’t waste time, giving Sam a quick kiss on the cheek before taking off towards the car. Richie had started and pulled away before Sam and Dewey had even started walking to Dewey’s truck. 

“A text!” someone yelled, stopping Dewey in his tracks as he started to walk towards his truck. Dewey turned around and Sam peered over his shoulder seeing a woman in a colorful business suit approaching him. “You let me know in a text!” she continued, walking right up to Dewey and slapping him. 

“You were on air,” Dewey weakly defended. That’s when Sam realized who this was, Gale Weathers. 

“How do you know that?” 

Dewey opened his mouth, then suddenly paused. It seemed like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to admit he still watched his ex-wife’s morning show. Sam couldn’t fault him for that it was either really sweet or really depressing, she was starting to think maybe a bit of both. 

“How did you find me?” Dewey settled on, crossing his arms. 

“I tracked your phone,” Gale said without shame. 

“You tracked my-are you insane?” 

Gale rolled her eyes. “I needed to find you and it was the quickest way,” she shrugged. “Who’s this?” Gale turned to Sam, seeming to finally notice her for the first time. 

“Sam Carpenter,” Sam introduced herself. “My sister was attacked. 

Gale tilted her head, her eyes instantly softening with sympathy. “I’m sorry. Do we know anything yet? What about the second victim?” 

“Vince Schnieder,” Dewey said. “He’s Stu Macher’s nephew.” 

“He attacked my sister because I’m Billy Loomis’s daughter,” Sam added. Gale’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of her head at hearing this information. Sam hated the fact that she was getting used to revealing that information. “Somehow the killer knows and now he’s going after those related to the original killings.” 

“What did you just say?” Gale whispered, her eyes taking on what Sam could only describe as a look of fear. 

Sam couldn’t blame her for being scared, Gale probably didn’t come back to town and expect to be even more in danger. “This psycho seems to be obsessed with the original movie and so disappointed in the ones that have followed, he’s decided to make his own,” Sam rolled her eyes. She still thought it was ridiculous someone was doing all this because of a movie. 

“She’s related to Billy,” Dewey said, pointing at Sam. “So, he went after her sister. Then Stu’s nephew,” he shook his head. “He’s going after anyone related to the legacy characters, anyone related to us.” 

Sam watched curiously as Gale pulled out her phone, furrowing her brow at whoever was calling her. Sam couldn’t make out who it was before Gale declined the call. Not a second later her phone buzzing again. Gale once again declined the call, rolling her eyes. 

Gale let out a frustrated sigh when her phone vibrated again, but this time it didn’t seem to be a phone call. Gale furrowed her brow as she tapped her phone. She furrowed her brow as she stared down at the screen, then her eyes quickly widened as if she realized something. “Oh, god,” Gale whispered. 

“What is it?” Dewey asked. 

“Oh god, oh god,” Gale continued to whisper under her breath. She quickly typed on her phone, dialing a number. Sam furrowed her brow; she had a feeling she didn’t want to know who had been trying to call Gale and what they sent her. “Dammit!” Gale screamed at her phone when whoever she was calling didn’t answer. 

“What? What’s going on?” 

“We need to go.” 

“What? Where?” 

Gale ignored Dewey’s questions as she dialed 911. Sam’s eyes widened; she didn’t know what was happening but clearly it wasn’t good. Gale began speaking quickly, rattling off an address Sam didn’t recognize it seemed as soon as someone answered. “Yes, it’s an emergency!” Gale yelled into the phone. “Tell the sheriff it’s about Ghostface! The next victim is Y/N Y/L/N.” 

Sam’s eyes widened at hearing your name. “We need to go,” Gale said. “Now!” Dewey seemed just as confused as Sam felt but he didn’t question it as he took off towards his truck, Gale right behind him. Sam followed their lead, running off after them. She jumped in the backseat, just barely getting the door closed before Dewey took off, his wheels squealing against the pavement. Sam gripped the sides of the front seat, staring out the windshield, silently hoping they’d get to you in time. 

[gotta-winwin]

2019 debut year <> what is his problem?

word count: 2.1k TW: a bucket of snark, cold wonwoo, mentions of bullying, swearing italics are in english, bolded words are in mandarin

౨ৎ ─── ─── ──౨ৎ─── ─── ──౨ৎ─── ─── ──౨ৎ

"Mingyu!" Cyana yelled from across the living room, her leg propped up as she sat icing her swollen ankle.

The boy in question slid into view, stumbling a little for balance as he grappled with the slippery wooden floors. "Yes, princess?"

Cyana made a little face at the nickname. "Can you charge my phone for me please? I left it in the kitchen and I can't stand up." She pouted at the mention of her rolled ankle. "And I thought I told you not to call me that."

Mingyu let out a deep sigh. "It's fitting though, don't you think? You are seventeen's princess." He poked her ankle gently. "Look at me, waiting on you hand and foot."

She sent him a glare. "You're the reason I'm like this." She let her upper half crumple dramatically onto the couch.

Mingyu had came rushing into practice this afternoon, colliding into an unaware Cyana, who had just been trying to leave the room for water. Everyone had chalked it up to the fact that Mingyu only ever looked parallel to his height, and could not see Cyana below him.

"I've already apologized." He whined, leaving to grab her phone. "You're even sleeping over so I can take care of you. Seungcheol said it was my punishment. You know only special people can ever enter the Minwon residence."

She scoffed. She noticed she was unnaturally riled up today, annoyed by the pain and inconvenience of not being able to walk. "Special, my ass."

"Hey." Mingyu stared at her from the doorway, having been on his way to grab a charger for her phone. He sent her a frown. "I understood that."

Cyana stuck out her tongue in retaliation, smiling to herself when it got a loud laugh from Mingyu. She watched him walk out of view, probably to his room to grab his charger.

They really had started to feel a little like family, Cyana realized as she sat there, with nothing to do but to ponder. She wouldn't have ever expected to be enjoying small moments like this, despite her ankle still throbbing. She also wouldn't have ever thought this job would be anymore than purely working. She never imagined she'd make friends, let alone call 13 boys her family. Well, 11 boys, she correctly ruefully. Woozi had been refusing to speak to her since the Hug BPM incident, although Cyana noticed he had changed it to be 138. Wonwoo was another one who seemed to be doing everything under the sun to avoid her, despite them literally being under the same roof right now. He had helped Mingyu move her from the car to their couch, gave her a look over and retreated to his room.

She let out a huff. She'd been here for nearly two months now, and comeback season would begin in less than two weeks. Wonwoo or Woozi (preferably both) would have to get their shit together sooner or later, before fans began to notice and shit started getting stirred.

Mingyu knocked twice on Wonwoo's door before entering. The last time he had walked in unannounced, a controller had been sent flying his way.

"Wonwoo hyung~" He called, reaching over to move Wonwoo's headset slightly off his ear. "Can I borrow your charger?"

Wonwoo frowned, blinking at Mingyu, his eyes adjusting from the bright screen back to reality. "Why?" Mingyu's phone wasn't adaptable to his charger head.

Mingyu waved the lilac phone in his hand. "Cyana's phone."

"She's got you charging her phone for her now?" Wonwoo muttered, getting up to grab it from the floor next to his bed. "Puppy."

"Hey!" Mingyu protested indignantly. "Her ankle's injured. I'm just helping. Like you should be doing."

Wonwoo frowned. "Why would I?"

"She's family."

Wonwoo scoffed. "She's not family. Family is the people who were there with us in that fucking lime green room."

Mingyu cut his eyes at the older boy, disappointed. "Cyana's a good person. You'd know if you'd just give her a chance."

"She's a ticking time bomb, Gyu. You need to realize that." Wonwoo's shoulders sagged as he sighed, handing over his charger. "She's going to blow up our comeback either way."

"You've been talking too much with Woozi hyung." Mingyu decided. "One skeptic's enough in this group."

"She's got 11 cheerleaders and knights-in-waiting already." Wonwoo quickly countered, sitting back down and putting his headphones back on, clicking open a new game. "I just don't think we'd get along."

Mingyu rolled his eyes. "She's literally you, Wonwoo. Down the a T." He groaned when the older boy gave no reaction, the headphones blocking his words. "Aish-" He slapped the back of Wonwoo's head gently. "Idiot."

Returning back to the living room, he plugged the charger in the outlet next to Cyana and handed her her phone. "You better thank Wonwoo later, it's his charger."

Cyana groaned. "Why~ Couldn't you have just grabbed yours?"

"My charger doesn't fit your phone, nana." Mingyu frowned. "Did something happen between you and Wonwoo hyung or what?"

"What do you mean?"

Mingyu took a seat next to her, hands reaching over to bring her injured foot into his lap, massaging her ankle. "Just mean that there has to be a reason you hate each other, that's all."

"I don't hate him, Gyu." Cyana sighed. "I just don't like being where I'm clearly not wanted."

"I'll talk to him."

Cyana shook her head. "No, no. Don't make it worse. It's okay, Gyu." She patted his arm. "Wonwoo not liking me isn't going to destroy me. As long as he hides it well during recordings, we're fine."

"He's my best friend though~" Mingyu whined. "I want my two best friends to get along well."

Cyana let out a shaky laugh, hit by a sudden jolt of pain when Mingyu pressed on a particular spot. "Sadly we don't always get what we want." She squeezed his shoulder. "Really, though. It's okay. I still have more friends than I ever had before."

He frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She shrugged. "I didn't really have friends growing up, is all. I was busy."

Mingyu looked at her sadly. "That's not good. Childhood friends are the best. You didn't make any at school?"

Cyana thought for a little bit, reaching over to move Mingyu's fingers to a certain spot where she felt like the pain was the most. "I had some friends in Vancouver, but once we moved to LA, everyone kind of already had friends. So it was awkward to join them."

"Oh." Mingyu couldn't wrap his head around the idea that Cyana didn't have friends in LA. She was so comforting and funny and pretty and good.

"They were all mean anyways." Cyana shrugged off the heaviness that the memories had brought her. "Not very friend-material."

Mingyu nodded. "I guess." He was still sad though, imagining lonely baby Cyana in the middle of a busy and large LA.

Sensing his sadness for her, Cyana offered him a bright smile. "I have you now. And Shua. And Kyeomie, and Boo, and Chan, and Vernon." She began counting them with her fingers, earning a smile from Mingyu. "And Hannie, and Hoshi, and Jun, and Haohao, and Seungcheol." She paused. "Well, kind of Seungcheol. I don't know if we're there yet." Looking up at Mingyu, she smiled. "But still! That's a lot of friends."

"I'm glad." Mingyu could only say, although his eyes said a whole lot more. I'm glad you have us. I'm glad you see us as your friends. I'm glad you're our friend. My friend. Cyana's grateful smile told him she understood.

The next morning, Cyana woke up in a stranger's bed. She sat up, frowning when she didn't recognize the bedroom she was in. Mingyu's bedroom did not have pretty LED lights coming from the ceiling, and last time she checked, he didn't own a gaming station.

"Get up."

Her eyes widened at the sound of Wonwoo's voice. She turned her head to look at him, leaning on the doorframe of the connected bathroom.

"What?" She mumbled, still deciding whether or not it was all a dream. It had to be, for on what planet would she wake up in Wonwoo's bed?

"I said get up." Wonwoo sighed, pushing himself off the doorframe to grab his coat from the foot of the bed. Sensing her confusion, he bit back a tiny smile. "You and Mingyu both fell asleep on the couch last night. I brought Mingyu back to his bed but found you couldn't fit comfortably next to him so I brought you here." He threw his coat on, grabbing his keys and phone as well. "I slept outside on the couch, don't worry."

Cyana's face flushed. It didn't go past her that this was the most words Wonwoo had ever spoken to her. "Sorry." She moved to get up. A large hand stopped her, grabbing her shoulder.

"Sorry." Wonwoo mumbled, releasing her. "Your ankle."

"Oh." Her face flushed again. "I think it should be fine. Mingyu's pretty good at physical therapy."

Throwing her legs over the side of the bed, Cyana stood up, gingerly placing weight on her bad ankle. Wonwoo stood a couple steps away from her, ready if something were to go wrong.

"It's fine." Cyana gave him a tentative smile. "Thanks. You could've just left me on the couch." She had definitely expected him to.

"Maybe I should've." Wonwoo muttered. "Hip Hop unit's got practice early today. Breakfast's on the table. Don't call. Don't burn the house down. And don't touch my things." He left the room without another word. Cyana heard Mingyu's voice from the distance and could hear the front door shutting behind them.

She blinked, frozen. She didn't know whether to cry or celebrate that Wonwoo had finally acknowledged her presence. His actions and words confused her greatly. It was i put you in my bed and slept outside so you can sleep well and then shout loudly to wake you up followed by a got you breakfast ending with a i don't trust you in my house.

She sighed, shaking her head. Boys.

Although her stomach grumbled, she opted to skip breakfast. Her stylists had complained that she wasn't fitting the skirt they'd made for their stage performances, despite it being not her size at all. She supposed it meant she still had a long way to go before she would look good onstage next to the members.

Looking around the room, she was able to properly see Wonwoo's place for the first time. It was clean, she expected nothing less from him. Everything about him screamed clean.

The computer hummed with life despite it being off and it was surrounded by photographs and equipment. She smiled when she spotted a photograph of what looked to be young seventeen, huddled together in the midst of their trainee years. There was also a few photos of a dog, who she assumed was Wonwoo's back home. There were books as well, overfilling the shelves that lined the far wall. That was something Cyana could relate to, although these titles were all in Korean instead of English. She found that she missed having books to read. It was hard to find anything good in Korea that she could understand.

She could've spent eternity in Wonwoo's room just looking at things, trying to decipher a person she desperately wanted to know. Her phone rang however, startling her.

"Hello?" It was their manager.

"Oh. Manager oppa. What's going on?" Cyana frowned. The manager rarely called them, schedules and changes were usually relayed through text.

"We have a couple company higher-ups who want to see your improvement before the comeback, Soyeon-ssi. I'm sorry to spring it on you now, but they'll be at Pledis soon. Could you come over quickly?"

Her blood rang cold. "Oh, uh- yes. I'm at Mingyu's right now. I'll be there in 10 minutes."

"Great. No need to panic, Soyeon. They just want to know if you're ready."

That was the thing though. Cyana didn't think she was ready. Sure, she'd been practicing with the others, learning techniques she hadn't learnt in LA, but she still wasn't as polished as the others. She couldn't quite grasp the concept of levels and angles, although she tried her hardest knowing it was essential to Seventeen's famed synchronization.

Rushing out of Wonwoo's room, she threw on the first hoodie she found in Mingyu's room before rushing to leave, locking the door behind her. Waving down a taxi, she sent prayers to all the gods she did not believe in that she'd pass whatever test they were giving her. She wanted to debut. She needed to. She wasn't about to let herself be sent back to LA. Not when she had family here.

author's note: ahhh! thank you so much for reading! things are about to get intense (,,>﹏<,,)

[lovehotelreservation]

chapter one: hi it's me you're all in danger summary: worldwide fame and a political tie or two has you--one of the biggest pop stars around--in dire need of reliable protection. thankfully you have four ex-military retirees to entrust your wellbeing to. but what happens when that protection turns possessive? rating: pg-13 (rating will increase across certain chapters) pairing: f!reader/task force 141 next chapter

as a longtime charli xcx fan, can't say i expected my brat autumn to be spent writing about the cod mfs 😭😭

-----------------

10 AM. London. Shangri-La. Hotel bar.

Somehow, being surrounded by opulence, prestige, and elegance made particular four men currently seated in the back of the space feel a bit out of place.

But they were here on a mission.

Or rather, a job now.

The days of being out on the field in camo fatigues were of the past. Now they were all seated together in suits–black and white, jacket, tie, pants and polished shoes–gin and lemon water on the table.

There was a bit of restlessness in the air and it was starting to spill out in the conversations shared amongst the four.

“Simon, would it literally kill ya to show yer mouth, man? Dae ya want the lass to think yer sick as a first impression?”

“A bit of mystery could be fun, no?”

“Are ya Scooby fuckin’ Doo or somethin?!”

“Johnny, can you keep it down? Your mohawk’s already gotten us enough looks as it is.”

“And what’s so wrong with a lil’ business casual, Kyle?!”

“Can you muppets keep it down!?”

The harsh lash of Price’s tongue had postures straightened and lips hushed.

With a sigh, he brought his fingers to his temple, wondering how he managed to save the world over and over again with these three. Still, his eyes flickered to his watch as he checked the time, a conversation from a month ago coming to mind.

“Price.”

A hand was extended out to him. Fluorescent lights at the American embassy in Paris hung above. Murmurs of French and English lingered in the air as the day proceeded.

Price grinned, returning the exchange with a firm handshake. “Miller. Good to see you standing, old friend.”

Moments later the conversation was held at Miller’s office, a familiar place during the times Price had visited. What stood out to him most was the newly framed photo of Miller and his blushing bride, Priscilla.

A miraculous matrimony all things considered.

Miller, an American ambassador. Priscilla, an activist whose loud and mighty voice helped push for change within socio-political and environmental spaces.

It wasn’t as if it was absolutely impossible for the two to meet–rather, it was just the fact they met after being held hostage alongside other world leaders and activists during a goodwill gala held at Berlin. Terror wished to deliver a haunting message to all of the world, with similar sieges held at other massive events, but thankfully the work of 141 and other allies blocked the reception.

Price glanced down at Miller’s desk, where a few pictures of a glamorous woman were splayed across files: a pop star by the name of Dollface. Formerly part of beloved girl group 4EVA, now setting the music scene alight with impeccable music production, godly vocals, and captivating choreography.

Or so he’s heard.

Right beside her was a clipped out headline from a newspaper:

Glastonbury Saved! Tragedy Averted from Terrorist Threat!

A job well done–courtesy of a certain phantom soldier.

“–I know your days of military campaigns are over, but this has been tearing Priscilla apart,” Miller sighed morosely. “While I know this is the fault of no one and she understands that change in the world comes at a cost, the fact that terrorists would target her niece’s festival performance has been haunting her.”

“Revolution does not come easy, that’s for certain,” Price mused as he glanced over at his friend’s face with an affirming nod. “Even so, it’s something still worth fighting for.”

Miller sighed out in agreement. “Of course.”

“So then.” Adjusting his posture, Price then continued, his tone light, “What can I and a few recently retired soldiers do for you, mate?”

His shoulders relaxing, Miller then reached down for one of the photos of the pop star, pushing it over towards Price. “Watch her. Protect her, please. She’s been an anxious mess ever since Glastonbury.” Gazing down at the newspaper headline clipping, he continued, “Her career’s at such a critical point and her first solo world tour’s been delayed enough as it is. Pressure’s everywhere–label, fans, the media. I know she wants more than anything to finally move forward. But–”

Gingerly picking up the photo, Price took in every single detail of the woman.

Of you.

Turning his focus back to Miller, he grinned, brows raising. “A bit of Price Protection and Co. could do wonders, yeah?”

“You’d be doing miracles, friend” was the response received, along with a vigorous nod.

Price held out his hand.

“It’s a deal.”

And now, the gang was all here, even though the gang was currently driving Price up the wall. Still, if there was anyone who he trusted to get the job done on behalf of a dear old friend, it was Gaz, Ghost, and Soap.

Or rather, from here on out: Kyle, Simon and Johnny.

It didn’t hurt that the gig paid quite handsomely–your label desperately wanted you to get back on stage one way or another. Since the Glastonbury incident, you’ve since been spending your days in London, far too afraid to leave anywhere. The plan was to slowly draw you out of your shell by planning all promotional endeavors around the UK before you would travel the world as intended.

Before any of that however, the first key matter of business is for the five of you to meet together.

10:15 AM. London. Shangri-La. Hotel bar.

“What do you lot think? Full glam or lowkey?” Kyle spoke up, now peering over to look at Johnny’s phone, who had brought up one of your music videos.

Price glanced over, seeing slick skin, big curls, gyrating hips, rouge lips, white heels, and sparkling eyes.

Such visuals were definitely not on Miller’s desk when discussing the job.

“Like right now?” Johnny queried back.

“Lowkey without question.” Simon folded his arms across his chest, his eyes peeking at Johnny’s phone, his expression reflective.

A sudden tap on the back of Price's shoulder just a moment later soon caught his attention. 

“Mr. Price…?”

He immediately turned back, the others following suit.

Johnny’s eyes widened, immediately switching off his phone to shove into his pocket.

Lowkey was correct.

A cap, oversized t-shirt with shorts hidden beneath, hair down, tennis shoes, a pair of sunglasses that were soon slipped off.

The contrast between who they saw on screen to who they were seeing now couldn’t be any more apparent.

Still, even by the way you stood before him, posture shrunken back slightly, eyes a bit downcast, voice softer than the usual bubbly vocals of your music, there was this grace, this aura that you exuded–one that spoke of a true bonafide performer rather than a mere average person.

Smiling warmly, Price held his hand out towards you for you to shake. “That would be me, dear.”

“Uncle Miller’s told me lots about you.” You smiled, bringing your hand up to take his.

So much smaller than his, he noted to himself, chuckling as he responded with, “I hope they’re my finer moments.”

Giggling in response, you affirmed, “As he said, only the best unclassified stuff. I’m Doll–” You quickly stopped yourself, opting to give your first name instead.

“Face pretty like a doll’s still,” Johnny murmured over to Kyle, who nodded in agreement.

Simon didn’t say anything but instead allowed his arms to rest by his sides, continuing to quietly observe you.

A world-renowned pop star with four former soldiers tasked to serve as her bodyguards.

Should be an easy enough job.

-----------------

thank you for reading !!! i know i tend to not really do multi-chapter pieces but idk the ghost of brat summer took over me after seeing a clip of soap and simon banter so i've been genuinely locked in with writing out this tale 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️

subsequent chapters are going to be loosely tied together but i hope you enjoy my take on cod yumejo with this pop star otome 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

next chapter's up next friday !!! 🤸‍♀️🤸‍♀️

[chaos-company]

Angstpril 2024

Hi everyone!

It’s that time of year again! We are excited to announce that we are hosting the event again this year!

All prompts, FAQs and rules can be found in the graphics and below the cut! 

Prompts:

1. homesick

2. frozen

3. broken-hearted

4. longing

5. rise from the ashes

6. this isn’t going to work

7. bad dreams

8. lost battle

9. trust issues

10. phantom pain

11. no way out

12. a little too late

13. learning the truth

14. surrender

15. confrontation

16. cry for help

17. last chance

18. left behind

19. trembling

20. broken

21. faking a smile

22. drained

23. swept away

24. the ghost of you

25. cold shoulder

26. grief

27. panicked

28. never see you again

29. betrayal

30. the last time

Alt Prompts:

1. troubled mind

2. not strong enough

3. you were never mine

4. the night we met

5. mental scars

6. miscommunication

7. jealousy

8.rock and a hard place

9. emotionally distant

10. paranoid

Rules

All posted content must be your original content. The use of AI for creation of any kind is prohibited.

All tags must be utilized in order to be reblogged. NOTE: the mods are human beings, so not all works will automatically be reblogged, even if all tagging is correct.

Any art form is acceptable, including original writing, gif sets and fan art.

FAQs

“Do I have to create for all thirty days?”

- Not at all! Feel free to jump in whenever you’d like. This is a creation event, so create as much or as little as you want! However, if you want to be entered in the shout out post, you must participate in all 30 days.

“Can I post a creation after the day has already passed?”

- Yes! You’re welcome to post for a prompt day even after the date, just be sure to tag with which day and prompt you’ve created for! You will only be eligibile for the shoutout post if you complete all 30 days within the month of April.

“What if I don’t understand/like a prompt?”

- We have a list of 10 alt prompts for you to choose from if you don’t like the main 30. Feel free to use our alternate prompts for any day, and if there’s any confusion send us an ask!

[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (Part 9)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things 📍 Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie Part 13 - The Release Part 14 - Someone like her smutty💦

Part 9 - Shiny Things

Ephi moves in, and Ruth reads you like an open book.

「Warnings/Promises: HumanAlastor x Fem! BurlesqueReader, Reference to domestic abuse of non-reader character, fucks, crows, swans, emotions be emotioning, so many birds, I don’t think reader is Aromantic I think she’s just stubborn, Cliff diving is just a joke do not follow people off cliffs, everyone is kicking reader’s ass in some way, my apologies to parts of Texas but not Texas as a whole」

Long time no see ! My head wasn’t in the right space for this story, and my head was also literally not doing well. But! Reading glasses helped since I’m writing on my phone like 7 inches from my face. the goal is Wednesday updates~ there’s about four parts already written so we’ve got a month of runway 👌🏼 Wednesday mornings are ‘God, That’s Good’ by @macabr3-barbi3 and nights are ADIF!

🎶 last time on A Doe In Fall 🎶 : you came home from your first week staying officially at Alastor’s to find your estranged sister waiting on your stoop.

this isn’t sexy but just like minors come on, MDNI? This blog is a sex shop

It’s not that you hated your sister, it’s that you resented her. You could love someone and not like them an ounce… but unfortunately when she left so did your familial love. Which meant all that held you together now was distrust and an obligation to a dead woman. 

“So things didn’t pan out up north?” You waved her into your apartment, agitation apparent in even the gesture of your arm. 

“It’s peachy! Just need to lay low a bit.” She said it with a chipper voice while looking around your apartment like she paid for it. “Wow you weren’t lying about the no money, huh? Talk about a shoebox.”

Charming. 

“Well, Ephi, you’re welcome to leave.” While you didn’t understand the name it wasn’t your business to question what someone asked to be called. Especially considering your own dual identity. You may have disliked the woman but human decency still hung to the bones of the relationship you called your sisterhood.

An obnoxious chuckle, “Nah it’ll do! Just the one single bed?”

“Why would I have more than one bed?”

A deep sigh from her, “Still last to be picked by the fellas, sis?” Her hand passed over your dresses hanging in the open closet, “The ugly duckling was always your favorite story.”

The fine hairs rose on the back of your neck, a cat’s hackles moving as the anger bristled through your body. You opened your mouth to shout all the ways you were not the ugly one in the room, hand already in the air to direct her attention to the dried, hanging flowers covering the far wall. How many people threw flowers at her feet? How many proposals were shouted to her? Wedding rings slipped off fingers and into pockets for her? 

The air in your lungs went flat as a small fire of embarrassment rose in your gut.

How could she so quickly reduce you to a little girl again? Taking the bait for a fight you couldn’t win, because she wasn’t listening to anything but her own voice. Biting the inside of your cheek, your hand fell back to your side.

“You can take it. I’ll just be by for clothes now and then. Been staying with a friend closer to work.” Flipping through your mind you tried to catalog your valuables. What did you absolutely need to not turn up missing?

Ephi sat on the bed and crossed her legs in her best imitation of a lady. “Staying with Mister Fancy Pants?” A smile that reminded you of your childhood. A smile that said, “I won’t tell mom!” Right before turning and running to your mother’s ear.

“No.” 

A giggle two octaves above her usual tone, “Sure, okay! No skin off my back.”

You took your time to gather the items you had forgotten first, then the items you didn’t want her to have. Unsure how exactly to tell Alastor why a week into sharing his home officially you were already redecorating, you left that for your future self to figure out. The first item was obvious.

An angel statue your mother kept on her nightstand. You wrapped it in some newspaper, trying not to look in her direction. 

Your sister chased dick like most people chased liberty. Something she shared with your mother. Which was her right, but it rubbed you the wrong way how she would always forget everyone else in her life when she had a man to call her own. A fair weather friend, at that. 

“How’s Howard?” The dick that took her away so many years ago.

She abandoned the lady act and rummaged through your cabinets, “Who’s that?”

Right.

A gold coin on a necklace. You slipped it inside a sock. 

“So, then, who is the man of the hour?”

Ephi began opening the dresser drawers, poking here and there. “Whaddya mean! I am an independent woman.”

You weren’t sure that had ever been true. While your mother had drilled it into your skull to never place yourself in the need of a man, she always seemed to throw her heart (and house keys and purse strings…) at the feet of any man willing to love her. 

“Love” her. 

There was no love in any of that. A common problem of confusing love with any and all intense emotions affected your mother and many others.

Slashed furniture is not adoration. Breaking windows is not a love language. Bruises are not affection.

Your hands ran down the bag’s shapeless sides. Without thinking, you smiled. Adoration. Love languages. Affection. You had them and the knowledge of their secrets all to yourself. 

Secrets you didn’t need slipping out. Secrets your sister couldn’t hold to save her life, or yours for that matter. You hurried around the room grabbing knick-knacks and photos and jewelry. Alastor would be at work soon, you wondered if you should call to warn him. This time not about a hot headed flatfoot but a nosey sibling.

You’d tell him later. No reason to talk to Brenda again. Quickly your leather bag got full and heavy. What was supposed to be a casual foray into sharing a home already turning into a full on move. 

Everything you needed and a few things no one ever would, because damn would Ephi pawn them the very second she needed something, were safely zipped away. Any plans to relax at home before work were abandoned and you just marched to the door. 

A random memory flashed behind your eyes,  washing Alastor’s hair in the tub until the water ran clear. Why now? The only memory shared in your apartment. And it was an awful one. But, it had Alastor. That gave it value. 

“Hey, if any men come by looking for me you just don’t answer, okay?” You forced your face to relax, to show the sincerity you worked so hard to keep to yourself, “Please, Ephi.”

Her smile widened past unnaturally white teeth, no money for a room but clearly cash for peroxide tooth gel, “Ooh, why? Little sister make some enemies?”

Why couldn’t she just fucking agree?

“My job sometimes attracts crazies. I don’t tell them where I live but occasionally they figure it out. They’ve gotten violent before so…just don’t answer the buzzer. They’ll say they’re damn near anyone to get you to let them up.” You stopped the nervous twisting of your bag’s handle, “Boyfriend, boss, detective. They've tried it all.”

“Aww, sis. Look at you.” She leaned her full figure against the open door frame, arm raised up like a pin up. Ephi was always effortlessly enchanting when her mouth was closed. “Stalkers? Mama would be so proud. Finally learning how to catch a man’s attention.”

The tears that stung your eyes were inspired partly by anger and partly by pain. They came so suddenly you could only laugh in response. 

“Lovely to see your new name hasn’t changed you, Ephi. I’ll be back occasionally. Don’t steal anything, no strangers over. Spare key is in the bowl by the door.” 

“Oh hey!” 

You turned back.

“I do need some cash. Until I find work.”

The numbness blanketed you with a chill. 

“I’ve got like, three bucks. Is that fine?”

Why did you ask that? You knew she could very well say it wasn’t fine and you’d be obligated to offer to get more. Atleast, that’s what you’d have done when you were younger. How easily you both slipped into old roles. Or perhaps she never grew out of hers. 

She mulled it over, “Yeah that’ll be fine.” Her hand came out and waited for the bills.

An open palm waiting for your money.

You pulled the folded bills from your wallet and set them in her hand without touching her skin. 

“Thanks sis!” She turned and closed the door before you could reply.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The other dancers shot you a look when your bag jingled and clanked as it hit the floor, you wincing as you remembered the ceramic figurine.

“You…. going somewhere, hun? The detective got you on something?”

A quick shake of your head. You hadn’t considered the optics. Luckily it was early enough the room wasn’t very busy. A few select missing women would have pried for more information. Your hands fidgeted, unsure what to do. On the way in you saw some newer talent getting their feet on stage, maybe watch them? Too early for make up. 

A loving voice from Ruth, always a savior, “Cigarette?”

You melted at the offer. Alastor wasn’t a fan of the smell so you were slyly cutting back. 

She popped a sun bleached folding chair open and set it in between you both as a footrest. So many broken and ruined chairs littered the sides of the dingy roof, you were shocked she found a good one on her first try.

“Alright, tell me what happened with that detective. Do I need to go rough up a city employee?” Ruth leaned back and settled into her chair with a creak and a whine of the wood.

You needed a second, eyes flitting around as she handed her cigarette for you to take a drag. What could you say? What did she already know? You’d not spoken about it since she helped shoo him away but the appearance of half your belongings haphazardly stuffed into a bag clearly had her alarms going off. 

“So remember the guy who came by for me? Tall handsome one.”

She nodded enthusiastically, “Yes! Of course. Don’t forget a name like his. Or face.” She whistled like a crude man trying to get a woman’s attention in the most annoying way.

“The detective thinks he did something to Tommy. That he was jealous. Which is ridiculous-,” you felt a nervous energy slip down your arms. 

An abrupt laugh, “That string bean couldn’t open a heavy window. He didn’t do shit to Tommy. What a stupid thing to say.”

Did she notice how much you’d been holding your breath? A deep sigh as you let it go. “Exactly! He doesn’t even know about what happened that night with that guy and Tommy’s arrangement; it’s too mortifying. Anyway, the detective has been hounding me about it. I don’t wanna cause trouble.” You ashed the cigarette and held it out for her, “Stuff is still new with him and me, so I didn’t tell the detective his details or work anything. Why would I? So he can harass him too?” The words all tumbled out so quickly. A faucet turned too far to the left.

“Fair.” A few passes back and forth in what you hoped was a comfortable silence and not an indication she was piecing together things you needed to remain unlinked. Finally, “Didn’t realize you two were still seeing each other. Longest one you’ve kept for awhile now.”

Looking up, you marveled at the view of the open sky. Not a cloud in sight. A smile crept across your face, the heat of the sun warming you from the inside out. The slightest chill to the air warning you of Fall. “Yeah.”

She asked what made him so special and you didn’t know where to start. “The obvious,” you began. “He’s so-,”

“Clever.” “Handsome.”

You’d spoken at the same time, her attempt at soothsaying failing miserably.

“Clever, Ruth. He’s very clever. Handsome men are a dime a dozen. But he’s sharp as a tack.” She rolled her eyes and waved her hand around for you to go on. You let your mind toss out the shiniest examples. “He’s so skilled. He knows how to hunt and take apart animals. He can fish. Cooks like a dream. He knows how to clean clothes well and how to use a washing board.” 

“Useful.” She mused. That isn’t what you meant. You weren’t trying to list off his features like a new appliance. It was just— impressive. He was well rounded.

“And he’s terribly kind. He’s always,” how to say it delicately, “going out of his way to help others solve their problems.” That seemed accurate and vague enough. You chuckled to yourself, remembering him at the kitchen table, “His face lights up so bright when he’s talking about his hobbies. Like, I can see his soul glittering behind his eyes and suddenly I’m just as interested in whatever he’s talking about as he is.” You let your eyes close around the mental image of his surprised face every time you complimented him. But they shot open when she began giggling, “What?”

“You’re in looooove,” her foot kicked yours, “I know that look. Head over heels already. Talking about him like he made the fucking stars.”

Wide eyed and stunned, was it written on your face so plainly? “Oh don’t say that. It makes me so uncomfortable. We’re just enjoying each other's company.” When she moved to give you the cigarette again you didn’t take it. “All I was saying was—,” fuck, what were you saying? That he was special? “He’s a very nice person to spend my limited time with. It’s a finite resource and all.”

With a shrug she took another puff, “What’s to be uncomfortable about? Falling in love is a wonderful thing, hun.”

Was it? Honestly, had she ever considered how much damage came with loving someone? It was putting your heart outside your body. Letting someone else carry it around and just praying they didn’t hurt you, or get hurt, or go off and die and take your heart with them. Why would anyone willingly do such a silly thing?

“Cheesy. And kind of creepy. Falling? How do I get back up if things go south?”

You’d successfully avoided emotional attachment to nearly every lover you’d taken. The way women seemed to get struck down dumb by any old John or Jane just wasn’t appealing. Love was for fools. The weak. The dependent.

Or, so you had whispered to yourself as you pretended to not be home when suitors came knocking, as you avoided ringing phones, as you apologized and slid out of restaurant seats after awkward dinners. 

“If you fall hard enough, you don’t get back up.” She said it like it was a good thing. “You’ll love them forever, even if you hate em.”

That was the problem, too. How could she not hear that as she said it? All loss of control of your own heart and emotions was simply bad. People do irrational things for love.

You shivered, “That sounds absolutely horrid, Ruth.”

“Aah,” she dismissed you with a raspberry blown between her lips, “For the right man, you’ll find yourself enjoying the trip down!” 

“Nah, I’m not fan of heights. No dick is worth that.”

“Is that all men are to you? Sex?” She guffawed, taken aback by your comment. Which was odd, given it was Ruth. 

But, Yes.

Well. No . But — he wasn't a man. He was something different. The exception to the rule. Alastor was different.

Or, fine. 

Yes, he was a man. 

No, you didn’t see them as just sex. It was easier to say people were just pleasure and not stop to think about life any other way. Things got complicated when you added another person. Life became sloppy and uncontainable. If you stopped and considered the lives behind the people you used to lead on and let go before things got too difficult, you’d just wound yourself. It was easier to stop at sex.

When you could. Which you could, before. When sex was a token you traded back and forth with someone. But Alastor didn’t accept that currency. You couldn’t hand him your body and get brief but lovely companionship back. Your value had to lie elsewhere, the things you set before him and the wonders he had to offer were much richer in their worth than what you’d ever had before. 

Sometimes it felt like you slid him a penny and he handed you a quarter. You found yourself scrounging up the petty coins of your worth and trying to save them up for him. Practicing your makeup, learning how he liked his coffee, remembering all of the things he said he hated and loved. Attempting to stop smoking. Every act was another shiny offering for him. 

A crow scrounging the park grounds for glittering trash. Not very swan-like, you thought.

“You really don’t think you’re falling for him?” Ruth put out the cigarette in the coffee can beside her. As you turned to argue with her you saw her face full of amusement and incredulousness. It was rhetorical.

The argument withered and you could only pout, everyone that day seeming to catch your tongue, “I don’t wanna think about it. I’ll get scared and run away. He’ll figure out how little I have to give eventually. If anything more is gonna happen, it’ll happen. I’ll just… let it. Why ruin it with… saying childish things.”

“You’re naive but that’s okay. Enjoy the honeymoon stage while you can.”

Your eyes rolled, “What if he doesn’t feel the same? Why embarrass myself.” When you sighed the weight of just how heavy and true that sentiment was resonated in your stomach. Telling him you were falling in love? Alastor was a killer. His passion was singular. What good was a dame to him? No, worse than worthless. A liability. A witness. A weak point in the walls he so carefully crafted. If he knew you were in love with him he’d just end things sooner than they would have naturally.

“Dontcha wanna know if he’s a waste of that precious time, then?”

You cackled, choking on your spit. Alastor? He was the most worthwhile thing you’d ever encountered. Time with him suddenly had …. Value. That fucking word again. But time with him, it was slow enough to be deep and rich, but so fleeting you already felt a mourning mood for how much closer you were to the end.

You could only shake your head, “Wait, Ruth, didn’t you get divorced?”

“Shhh that doesn’t count!” She rose and stretched her long arms up to the sun and then out to the horizon, “Plus that’s how I know what I’m talking about! After the honeymoon phase? You’ll be arguing about laundry and wishing you were strangers again. Fighting about children and lawncare.”

As your finger nervously came to your mouth, teeth cutting into the nail, you considered how if Alastor complained about laundry and you could argue back with the comfort of knowing neither would simply leave, that’d be….nice. The safety of being honest without the fear of the other person giving up on you. Was that love? 

And did that matter at all? 

You’d thought earlier you knew the answers but now, when someone else said it, you got scared of those words. 

Ruth must have put a spell on you. As you and a bevy of others danced in line on stage, arms over shoulders and legs kicking high enough to show cheek and jiggle the soft skin of your thighs and stomach, you felt butterflies in your gut. Alastor would be picking you up in a matter of hours. 

A few men sent you drinks, which you repaid with a wink and a kiss blown across the bar before downing the liquor. It was the usual routine. You hadn’t felt nerves to see Alastor quite like that since sheepishly picking out “comfortable” shoes.

Alastor’s eyes widened when he took the bag from you, not noticing your attempts to avoid making eye contact. He let out a chuckle, his best attempt at stifling the joking question, “Already moving in?”

He realized quickly enough that wasn’t a good joke. Not when he finally looked up and saw your stare was distant. 

“Everything okay, dear?” He walked to open your door for you, and you nodded a thank you and an affirmative.

Should you rip off the band aid? Should you just say it and see what happens? 

When you turned to look at him and blurt out a confession, you were stopped by the profile of his face. What a gentle face. A lovely jaw. Even his bones were better than other people’s. What were you doing in this man’s car? What little pieces of glittering trash were you about to toss at him on a random Friday night?

No, in the books you read, confessions were always grande affairs. Fireworks and dinner parties and passionate kisses in rain storms.

You’d have to put a little effort into this. His brows rose as he clocked your staring. Eyes on the road, smirk pulled to the right, his hand came to rest on your thigh.

He deserved something much better than whatever you had to offer. Something unlike yourself entirely. 

The drive home, and yes you let yourself linger on the word instead of shoo it away, you watched a deer jump across the dirt road just past the bridge. 

“The bucks chase the does. It’s part of their mating ritual. I guess it’s not unlike the ‘playing hard to get’ some women like. The longer the chase, the prouder the buck to snag his prize.”

You laughed, “Women don’t like it, I don’t think. Well, some do I am sure but… If we don’t do that then people think we’re easy. We need plausible deniability. If people learn we put out we can claim we didn’t really want to and save some face.”

Alastor grimaced, “Gross.”

Unseen, you nodded and turned to watch the buck leap after its doe. 

“Kind of funny, you chased me down, didn’t you?” Alastor’s comment pulled you back to him.

“Oh yes. That makes you my doe.” Your arm came to rest against the car door, the trees slowly rolling by in the darkness. “Reminds me of the small freckles across your shoulders.”

“My mighty buck!” He fawned, in jest, pretending to collapse into your lap. You shoved him back up and behind the wheel proper. “Well given the chance, I’d chase you for miles.” His hand flexed on your leg.

“To Texas?” You asked. Your usual end point.

“Further.”

“How far?”

“There is no limit. I’d … run right off a cliff, head first, if you were waiting at the bottom.” He took his hand back, needing both to hold the wheel. What he said hit him harder than he had intended. Was it too much? A tad too dramatic? A nervous clearing of his throat, followed by an awkward laugh to put more space between him and the confession. 

The idea of you making Alastor chase you was ridiculous. You enjoyed the games you played with others, but you were never meant to be caught. If you wanted that, you’d just…give yourself. As you had done with him. Only him. The first and last person you ever wanted to give yourself over to in any sense. “And if I just… lied down and let you catch me? Would that make me a poorly earned prize?”

“Nope! That’d make me a lucky duck. And make you quite smart, if I do say so myself.” A wink. “Why run from such a catch like me?”

You landed a smack on his arm, light and playful. 

A truly comfortable silence settled in, just the sound of the car trembling over the rough road. The newest model Ford was still as loud as the last, but luckily you were far from others. 

The words had lingered like smoke, and you felt the need to address them.  

“Don’t actually do that though. If I run off a cliff or something stupid, don’t you dare follow me.”

Alastor just laughed, wasn’t that what you were doing for him already? Diving into hell for some inexplicable reason after Alastor. He wasn’t expressing some lack of self preservation, he was merely letting you know he’d reciprocate the fall. You hadn’t made him run after you, but instead seemed to just….rest your neck between his canines. And trust. 

If you were to go to heaven, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. It was too late to redeem his soul now. How far was heaven from hell, anyways? If the devil survived the plummet perhaps he could scale the walls of his enclosure and breach the gates.

Though, as he thought about the idea of heaven, he considered how happy his mother would be to meet you. To take you from her would be as cruel as heaven taking you from him. 

Maybe he could make a plea. To just be able to see you from below. 

But if the knowledge you were happy and safe was all he had, he’d be a richer man in hell than he’d ever been on earth. It’d be enough. 

He’d just need to broadcast his radio waves a little further for your listening pleasure.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@eris-norwega @reath-solia @catticora , @angelicribbons , @xalygatorx

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,

@thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies

@howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @fizzled-phoenix , @star-kujo-platinum

, @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl @smoky000

@hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain

@harley2223-blog , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby

@dontfuckbutimfab @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12

[voyagerweek]

VOYAGER WEEK PROMPTS

DAY 1 - JAN. 10: Favorite Episode | Away Missions

DAY 2 - JAN. 11: Favorite Character | Meet You in the Runabout

DAY 3 - JAN. 12: Favorite Relationship | Allies & Enemies

DAY 4 - JAN. 13: Favorite Season or Arc | Time Travel

DAY 5 - JAN. 14: Favorite Quote | Home Away From Home

DAY 6 - JAN. 15: Favorite Holodeck Program | Lost in the Holodeck

DAY 7 - JAN. 16: Caretaker (S1E01) 30th Anniversary | FREE SPACE

Fanwork originally made and posted on Tumblr for this event with the tag #voyager week will be reblogged by this blog. Racism, bigotry, harassment, or discrimination of any kind will not be tolerated. Be respectful of other fans and have fun! FAQs ↴

How do I participate? Make a new post on Tumblr with the tag "#voyager week" during the week of January 10-16, 2025. Crossposting to other sites such as AO3 is allowed, but please also make a new post on Tumblr so this blog can reblog it. If your post has not been reblogged within 48 hours of posting, please send a DM to @voyagerweek along with the post. Submissions will only be reblogged during the event week and for up to two weeks after the event. Please do not post a submission before January 10, 2025.

Why are there two prompts for each day? Do I have to use one or both? There are two prompts to cover multiple interpretations of the event. A prompt that is accessible for a writer may not be for a gifmaker, for example. You may choose to use one or both prompts for each day, or multiple prompts from different days combined in one post, or no prompt! These prompts are being provided 5 months in advance of the event so that there is plenty of time to consider them, but if none of them inspire you, feel free to make a fanwork about Voyager that does not incorporate any of the prompts. The prompts are meant to inspire but not constrain your creativity. You may also submit multiple posts in one day. Participate as much or as little as you would like!

Can I post X kind of fanwork? Yes! If it is made by you (or you have express permission from the original creator) for this event, it counts as a fanwork and will be accepted. The following list of types of fanwork is not meant to be restrictive but to provide examples: fanfic of any length, fanart/comics, gifs/edits/fanvids, playlists, moodboards, meta discussions/essays/headcanons, crafting/textiles, cosplay, and anything else made by fans to show appreciation for Voyager. **Please put long written works below a "read more" cut**

What if my fanwork is part of an ongoing work such as a multi-chapter fanfic or series? That's fine! As long as whatever you post is new and made for this event, whether you use one of the prompts or not, it will be reblogged (i.e. you may not make a post for a previously published chapter of your fic, but a new chapter or installment posted during the event is acceptable).

Can my work include other Star Trek shows/movies/books/etc? Yes, as long as Voyager or its characters are one of the main focuses of the fanwork, you are welcome to incorporate other media properties, Star Trek or otherwise.

Can my work be about an actor or the production/behind the scenes of Voyager? Yes, as long as the work's focus is still on Voyager (i.e. not a gifset solely of the actor in another show/movie).

Are OCs (original characters) allowed? Yes, if a Voyager setting or its characters are included in the fanwork as well.

Are AUs (alternate universes) allowed? Yes. Canon divergence and different settings (i.e. modern AUs) are allowed if the work still features Voyager characters or elements.

Is NSFW/adult content allowed? Yes, as long as you tag appropriately with trigger warnings and follow Tumblr's restrictions for explicit content. Reblogs of works that contain graphic violence, sexual content, strong profanity, or nudity will be tagged #nsfw for filtering.

Threshold Day is January 29 and already a recognized fan event on Tumblr, why are you having a Voyager event that doesn't include this day? The dates were chosen to coincide with the thirtieth anniversary of the original airdate of the first episode of the first season. This event is meant to share enthusiasm for the entirety of Voyager, and hopefully that will continue after the event week is finished.

**If you have any other questions not covered by this list, please send an ask to @voyagerweek.**

[captaincvans]

Love Letter (Wonwoo x Reader)

Pairing: Wonwoo x Fem!reader

Summary: Y/N finds herself feeling like her gift for Wonwoo's birthday was far from good enough when she saw what Carats and other members got him.

Warnings: Mention of IV drips, fainting, and hospitals.

Word Count: 3330+

Author’s Note: Just a small piece of Wonwoo fic that was floating in my head for a while. I finally had the time to finish it. Comments/reblogs feeds a writer's soul! Enjoy~

She watched from the corner of the couch at the rambunctious boys, her heart warming at the thought that Wonwoo has such precious friendships in his life. He finally picked up her gift, having gone through most of them and seeing as how hers was the first one set on the table. Seungkwan passed him the big box first, and she was excited to see his reaction. She worked over time for the last few months in order to be able to afford the gift, but the effort was worth it, in her opinion. 

The boys hollered at the sight of the shiny Apple box, and Mingyu shouted. “Wait- wait- which one of you forgot that Carats already gave him a personalized Airpods Max?” Most of the boys shook her head, but she didn’t have it in her to tell them. Nobody put their names on the gifts so no one could tell who the gift was from. Her heart sank as Seungcheol took the box and set it aside, still thinking it was from one of the boys. In doing so, she watched her smaller gift fall on the carpet, underneath the copious amount of wrapping paper and tissue paper on the floor. 

“Don’t use that one- use the one you got from our precious fans,” he said, laughing. She admired their loyalty to their fans, but found her heart still sinking when Wonwoo nodded. She worked hard for the gift, and seeing it get tossed aside felt like her efforts were also being tossed aside. She knew Wonwoo still appreciated the gift as he was never the type to take what he’s given for granted, but a part of her wished she had given him his gift privately instead. Y/N noticed Mingyu pulling out his phone, telling the boys that he was going to start a live on Instagram. She took this time to slink back to the kitchen to start cleaning up. Her relationship with Wonwoo was known to the fans, but she still wanted to respect the responsibility that comes with his job. If she were to do anything wrong, it would reflect poorly on him, so in order to avoid that she tried to live as quietly as she could. 

Y/N heard her boyfriend’s speech to their fans, thanking them for their support. She cleared up the mess of having to host 13 boys in the kitchen, and made her way back to the living room once she heard they were done their livestream. 

“Y/N, we’re going to go out for drinks, wanna come?” Seungkwan asked, motioning for her to join their group. He gave her a side hug before pulling her to sit beside Wonwoo, Dokyeom standing to make space for her. 

She looked at the mess in the living room, and shook her head. “I think I’ll just stay and clean up. You guys have fun!” 

“Are you sure?” Wonwoo asked quietly beside her, not wanting to pressure her. 

“Yea. Go have fun with the boys.” She gave a short peck to his cheek, rolling her eyes at the hollering going on around her. As they all headed out, they each gave her a short hug, thanking her for hosting them. Y/N picked up her gift from the floor, looking at the designer items the boys had gifted her boyfriend. She knew that he wasn’t materialistic, and would’ve loved anything they had given him, but she couldn’t help but feel like she was lacking in her ability to spoil him. She had worked a lot of overtime hours in the last few months, having to go to the doctors for IV drops a couple of times because she was so exhausted. Luckily, Wonwoo was also busy with promotions, but it made her feel even emptier when everything was said and done. She sighed, placing the small box back on the couch and cleaning up the living room. The smaller box had contained a heartfelt card, an old MP3 player with a customized playlist she had created to represent her love for him, along with a Spotify code as she knew he would want it on his phone as well. While she was going around cleaning, she hadn’t realized the box slipping between the cushion of the couch. 

The next few days were busy as she decided to continue working overtime since Wonwoo was busy anyways. She felt like their relationship was barely hanging on the last few months because of his busy schedule, and the fact that she was working more than ever before in order to be able to afford his gift and hosting the get-together with his team. Woozi and Seungcheol had offered to help her pay for the party, but she didn’t feel right about it. She wanted to spoil them, and she didn’t want them to think that she was taking advantage of their finances like that. 

Wonwoo came home late at night after recording some b-side tracks for their repackaged album. He couldn’t even bother making it to his bedroom so he decided to crash on the couch. Once his body landed on the usually soft cushion, he immediately noticed a firm item in between the pillows. He dug around, finding a small box he remembered seeing at his birthday party a week ago. He opened the box, seeing the letter slipped out. 

To my WON and only,  Happy Birthday!! Please excuse my crappy handwriting, but I wanted to write down how much I love you and how much I love us. Two years ago we met each other, and my life would never be the same since. I am so thankful for another year to be by your side and I want you to know that no matter what I want to always be with you. My heart is so full of love, and yet I can’t express them with words so I hope you will feel all my love in the songs I’ve put in this mixtape.  Always yours ❤️

Just as he was about to play her playlist, his phone buzzed. It was Woozi apologizing and asking him to come back to the studio. He sighed tiredly, pressing the palm of his hands against his eyes. It was times like this that he missed Y/N’s touch, and how she’s always been able to relieve his stress with just a simple hug. He missed her so much. He opened the last message from her. It was her telling him about finishing work and going to the mall, and showing him what she had bought. It was the little, mundane things that Wonwoo appreciated in their relationship. Since they found it hard to meet up sometimes, she made it a point to send little updates about her day, and he would do the same. As he was reading through her messages, and the commentary on her video haul that she sent him, he noticed the time she had sent the message of leaving work. His eyebrows furrowed as she usually leaves work around 6 to 6:30, but the timestamp had read her messaging him closer to 8pm. He scrolled back through their messages, easily finding her little messages after work and they were all late. It wasn’t as if her morning messages came later either, they were all at the same early 6am as they had always been. His thoughts were interrupted, when Woozi sent another message asking if he was coming. Wonwoo confirmed that he was, and made his way back to the studio while thinking about what would keep his girlfriend late at work. She hadn’t mentioned any big projects or anything that could keep her longer, but perhaps she just forgot to tell him. He sent her a few text to ease his mind, maybe it wasn’t as a big deal as he had in his mind. 

Goodnight, baby I just got home from the studio, but Woozi asked me to come back to record more. I’m so tired and I miss you so much I noticed that you’ve been getting off work later than usual? Is everything alright? 

He pocketed the MP3 player, and went back to the studio where he crashed for a few hours after recording. It was a little before noon when Wonwoo woke up, opening his eyes to an uneasy-looking Dino, and he suddenly he was on alert. 

“Hyung-”

“Dino? What’s wrong?” 

“We charged your phone when you were sleeping because it was dead, and when we turned it on it wouldn't stop buzzing.”

Wonwoo felt his heart plummeting and beating miles per hour, he nodded in thanks and quickly took his phone from Dino’s outstretched hand. He realized a few more members were there, and they had halted the recording. It was easy to see why they were panicking, usually if it was an emergency amongst the members, there would be at least a few more members who would know, but this seemed like a personal matter. He unlocked his phone, seeing 10+ phone calls, and 30+ messages from Eunji- Y/N’s best friend. He skimmed through messages, bile rising from his throat when he saw the words 

‘Fainted… hospital… overworked…’ 

He got up quickly, catching the eye of all his members. 

“What? What is it?” Seungcheol asked worriedly. 

“Y/N’s in the hospital,” he said before rushing out. 

“Wonwoo!” Seungcheol called. “You’re in no state to drive. I’ll drive you.” 

Wonwoo nodded in appreciation, knowing that it was faster to get a ride from his members than wait for his manager. The ride to the hospital was tense, and Wonwoo was able to call Eunji back. 

“Eunji- how is she?” he asked once he heard her pick up. 

“She’s fine now,” she said with a small sigh. “They gave her some fluids, and they’re just looking over her now. Where were you, Wonwoo?”

“I’m so sorry. I was recording all night, and fell asleep.” He stopped when she spoke again. 

“Right. I guess it can’t be helped.” Wonwoo always appreciated Y/N and Eunji’s ability to not linger on things beyond their control, seeming always focused on fixing the problem. “Did you like her gift?”

“Gift?” 

“Yea- your birthday was last week, right?” When he didn’t respond she continued. “Y/N told me a few months ago that she was planning a birthday party for you and your team. She wanted to spoil you guys, and tried going all out- even buying you the Airpods Max. I’m guessing that’s why she’s here.” 

“What?” Wonwoo was still trying to process everything, and the anxiety of Y/N being in the hospital wasn’t helping him see the bigger picture. He needed Eunji to spell it out for him. 

“She worked overtime for the last few months to be able to afford your gift and the party. I mean she wasn’t broke by any means, but throwing a party for 13 guys can get pretty expensive. I think some of your members offered to split the cost, but she was worried that they would see her as someone too focused on money.” 

Seungcheol’s eyes widened at her revelation of what she went through that day. He remembered the comment Mingyu made about the Airpods, and how he had carelessly tossed it aside. He felt so guilty for not even considering the effort she put in that day. In a way the idol life had spoiled him as staff members were usually the one preparing their birthday events. He didn’t know how much they cost but he could imagine it was more than Y/N would’ve spent on herself. He wasn’t blind to the amount of effort she put in, rivaling the decorations that a team of staff would prepare for their birthday streams. 

“I didn’t know,” Wonwoo said quietly. “She never told me.”

“That’s our stubborn Y/N. She probably didn’t want to make anyone feel bad. Knowing her, she was probably overworking both at work and trying to make the party happen that she stopped taking care of herself. I would’ve thought she would stop doing overtime after the party though.” 

“I’m at the hospital now.” He turned to his leader. “Cheol-”

“Go. Text us if you need anything. We can come by-” he paused. “If she wants us there.” He felt guilty about that day, thinking about how hurt she might have been. 

“Thanks.” Wonwoo got to the room Eunji texted him, taking a deep breath before slowly opening the door. Eunji was sitting beside the empty bed, scrolling through her phone. “Where is she?” he asked, suddenly on alert again. 

“They took her for some more testing,” she told him, motioning for him to sit at the chair across from her. 

He shook his head, looking around the room, his need to see her making him restless. 

“I’m glad you’re here now. I know you don’t like to push her to talk, but she’s more like you than you think, Wonwoo.” Before she could say more, Y/N was wheelchaired in with her nurse. Her eyes widened when she saw Wonwoo, and she was about to reach for him when the nurse had gently helped her back on the bed. 

“Your tests are all done,” he informed her. “The doctor will be in shortly to discharge you.” 

“I have to take my leave now,” Eunji said as the nurse left them alone. “But call me if you need anything, alright?” She turned to both of them before picking up her bag, offering a supportive smile before taking her leave. 

“Y/N…” Wonwoo started, his voice cracking with how emotional he was feeling. “What happened?” Despite Eunji telling him the story, he wanted to hear it from her mouth. 

“I worked a little too hard, and fainted- kinda hit my head a bit so that’s why the doctors are doing all these test,” she answered him in a light tone. “It’s not a big deal.” 

“Hmm.” He took the chair Eunji was sitting on, and brought it closer to her bed. “Why were you working so hard? I saw you’ve been working overtime.” 

Her eyes immediately shifted to her lap. “You’ve been busy so I wanted to keep my mind off missing you.” 

He knew she was telling the truth, but not the whole truth. “It has nothing to do with this?” he asked, pulling out the MP3 player from his pocket. 

Y/N gasped, thinking she had brought it home with her instead of leaving it at Wonwoo’s couch. 

“I read your letter. You got me the Airpods and made me a playlist- even putting it on this MP3 player you knew I would like. Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“I didn’t know Carats had already gotten you one…” she trailed off. “And I didn’t want to ruin the mood or make anyone feel bad.” 

He was about to put a hand on her head, but stopped when he remembered she hit her head. Instead, he stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. “I love it. I love you. You could’ve given me a plastic bag, and I would’ve loved it.” 

She chuckled at his words, shaking her head. “I was thinking…”

“Hm?”

“Maybe we could give the Airpods to your father? That way you can use the one Carats gave you, and father will be happy with the new Airpods?”

Wonwoo melted at her thoughtfulness, reminding him one of the many reasons he loves her. She made it a point to welcome his family with such open arms, including his team. “You don’t want it for yourself?” he asked, knowing she had always wanted similar headphones. 

She shook her head. “I think father would appreciate it more.”

“Alright. You can give it to him next time we visit.” He took her hand, placing it against his lips as he gazed at her face. “I don’t want you to be working overtime to buy me anything anymore, okay?”

“That’s not fair,” she argued, taking her hand back. “You-”

“I don’t care about money or materialistic things. I care about you- please? Can we do the handmade gifts from now on or something?”

She thought about it for a bit, pondering on  his suggestion. “You’ll only give me handmade things too?”

He nodded. 

“Deal,” she agreed, breaking into a grin. “You realize that’s gonna be harder for you, right?” 

“Nah,” he shook his head. “There’s nothing hard about spoiling the person I love the most.” 

“You’re so cheesy,” she said between laughter. 

His phone buzzed, and he checked it was Seungcheol who texted him. “Seungcheol just texted. The members were really worried.” 

“About me?”

“Mm.” He responded that she was alright now. “They wanted to know if you would like to see them?” 

“She nodded. “Today? Okay- maybe we can go bring food to them if they’re practicing?” 

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “We’re not doing anything. You’re coming home with me, and they’ll visit us there, okay?” 

“I’m sure they don’t want to miss their practice.” 

He shook his head, stopping her. “Y/N, my team is my family.”

She nodded, not knowing where he was going with this. 

“And you’re now family so they’re your family too.” 

Before she could say anything, the doctor knocked on the door with a clipboard. He gave her the clear to go home, and Wonwoo called a taxi for them to take to his home. As they settled in to his home, Y/N gave Wonwoo the go-ahead to have the members over to visit. 

“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” Mingyu said, his face full of anguish. Seungcheol stood beside him, head lowered as if expecting to be scolded. 

She shook her head, putting a hand on each of the boys’ arms. “Don’t worry- you guys have nothing to apologize for.” 

“We didn’t mean to-”

“I know, I know.” She gave them both a hug. “It’s nothing, really.” 

Wonwoo gently pulled her to his side, leading her to sit down on the couch as if the few seconds of standing would be too tiresome for her. She sat in the center of the thirteen boys, feeling like she was finally a part of their little family they created for themselves. When the door rang for the food to arrive, Y/N was the first to get up, but before she could even move, Wonwoo had already gotten up and made sure she stayed put while the other members jumped up to get the door. In the end, Seungcheol and Mingyu had gotten the food, and set it on the table. 

“Thank you for the food, Woo,” Soonyoung said, the other members following in sharing the gratitude. 

He waved it off, knowing it wasn’t the first nor the last time he would treat his members. Being older than most of them, he felt a sense of responsibility in making sure they were treated well, and felt like he would be taking advantage of them if he didn’t cover their expenses from time to time. 

He took the bowl that was meant for Y/N, unpacking it and adding her preferred toppings. “Thanks, Woo,” Y/N repeated, taking the outstretched plate from his hands. He leaned over to get a side dish to put on her plate, and Y/N took the opportunity to give him a quick peck on his cheek. 

“Ehh! You guys are too sickeningly cute,” Seungkwan said, giving them a side eye. 

“Don’t be rude! I think they’re cute.” Dokyum scolded. 

Wonwoo prepared her food first, giving her the bowl before getting his own bowl. Minghao was on her right, and took some of the side dish in front of him, and placed it on her bowl. 

“Thanks Hao,” she smiled. This time she wasn’t watching the 13 boys from the corner of the couch, feeling like an outsider, but instead she finally felt like a part of their found family.

[drvscarlett]

About You Pt 8

Sebastian Vettel x Webber!Reader

Summary: Everyone knows about the history of Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber. But there's a well kept story within the paddock about Sebastian Vettel and another Webber. This is that story.

About You Series

A/N: if you are a mark webber fan, im sorry its for the plot. Also expect a double update because I'll put up Chapter 9 tomorrow!!!

Taglist: @spideybv28@randomcuboidshape @mehrmonga @casperlikej @cliosunshine @honethatty12 @randomgirlnumber-13 @sugyomama @ririyulife @skywalker1dream @vicurious28 @khaylin27 @0710khj @its-elias-world @vizzzashley @allisonwoods @taytaylala12 @miarabanana @ceciii-b @lindsayjoy444

2011, Hungaroring

Ever since Y/N could remember, Mark was always the one taking care of her. Big brother Mark who would pick her up from school, Big brother Mark who gives her ice cream after a dentist appointment and all that stuffs. It was that reason why Y/N has opted to fly all over different countries to aid and support him in his quest of being the best driver in the world.

There are moments that Y/N wishes that she could have that big brother back but no moment has been much more pressing when she woke up with a pounding headache and a burning feeling.

This was the first time that she got sick without Mark by her side. She reached out her phone and her fingers hovered to press Mark’s number but she hesitated. Y/N was not sure if Mark was okay especially with his crash during free practice and he wasn’t able to get a good spot for qualifying—it is most likely that Mark is already resting. She also knows that Mark is still very upset with her and they haven’t been in speaking terms for almost two months already.

So she calls the other number she knows will pick up.

“Can’t a person get some sleep”Sebastian was half-awake and half-asleep.

“Seb?” Y/N’s voice was weak “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to disturb but I don’t know who else to call”

Sebastian immediately stood up upon hearing the voice of Y/N. There was something different about it and it made him extremely worried.

“What’s going on? Are you hurt?”

“I’m having a fever and I just need some medicines”Y/N explained

“Okay, don’t worry. I got this”Sebastian assures “I’m going to the pharmacy and pick up some medicines. Anything else?”

"Just some medicines and then I have everything covered"

Y/N must be joking if she thinks that Sebastian would simply leave her alone by herself. He was already listing down everything that Y/N might need and already including her in his schedule today.

It didn't matter if Sebastian are a few hotels away from Y/N's. He was willing to sneak to be caught into enemy's territory if its Y/N on the line. It didn’t even matter for Sebastian that he is in a foreign country and has no idea where a pharmacy is. Let alone mind that it was currently 4 in the morning and there was not much stores open at this early hour.

Y/N drifted to sleep while waiting for Sebastian. She had no idea what time it was when she woke up but the sun was shining brightly and she could feel a cool towel on her forehead.

“Mark?” she asked on instinct

“Just Seb here” Seb corrects “No need to worry, I have everything here for you”

True enough, the bedside table has been cleared of unnecessary stuffs. The medicines were neatly arranged and a small bowl with a damp towel was carefully prepared. Sebastian also took the liberty of ordering room service for Y/N to eat because medicines shouldn’t be taken with an empty stomach.

“I’m sorry for waking you up”Y/N mutters

“You don’t have to worry about a thing, I am here for you okay?”

Y/N sits up and Sebastian helped her get into a comfortable position. She genuinely appreciates the effort that Sebastian did for her and at the same time she feels slightly guilty that he must babysit her.

“I think I’ll be fine on my own. I just need the medicines and all that”Y/N reasoned out “You have the race in a few hours and Red Bull might kill me if their driver is fatigued”

But Sebastian shakes his head in disagreement.

“Like I said, don’t worry about it. I am here to take care of you as long as I could”Sebastian assures

“But the race?”

“The race is not until 3pm, I can leave the hotel at 12 noon to get ready” Sebastian quips back.

A grateful smile graced on Y/N’s face as she couldn’t fathom how she was so lucky to have Sebastian by her side.

2011, Marina Bay Street Circuit

Christian Horner was in a good mood after they secured the championship for constructor and the driver's. It was not even the end of the season and they can actually pop the champagne and celebrate their impending victory. Truly, Red Bull's dominance was here to stay.

As a treat, he asked to meet with the two Red Bull drivers for dinner. Sebastian immediately accepted while Mark politely declined. Christian could not even fathom how the bloke feels with him missing the championship twice in a row so he lets him be. Upon learning that Mark wasn't joining then Sebastian asked him if he could invite the other Webber.

For Christian, Y/N was like one of his own. Even if she swapped teams, she was still welcome to the garage. It was no issue for Christian.

And so he finds himself seated with Sebastian and Y/N for dinner time.

"So how is McLaren treating you? I hope things aren't too bad there"Christian wondered as he cuts up his steak.

"It's definitely different from what I'm used to but I manage"Y/N smiles.

"Still not in good terms with Mark?"

Christian may act blind but he sees everything. He knows how there is a huge problem between the Webber siblings. He wished he could mediate and stop Mark from firing Y/N but Mark is as stubborn as he can get.

The female Webber just give him a sad smile and it conveyed a lot for the Team Principal.

"I hope he comes around"Christian voiced out "The garage misses you, don't you like to be in a winning garage?"

"C'mon, McLaren is also trying their best"Sebastian teased.

"Well we're still working ion it but Jenson and Lewis are trying their best with the car's maximum capacity"Y/N assures.

"Yeah, I kind of miss Jenson's competitiveness in a Brawn"Sebastian chuckles.

As the Red Bull driver jest, Christian noticed how Sebastian's cutlery was on Y/N's plate. It was expertly removing the bell peppers and Christian scrunched up his face as he couldn't remember that Y/N requested for bellpeppers to be removed.

"You don't like bell peppers?"Christian asked "We could have it removed if you didn't want them"

"Oh don't worry about it"Y/N immediately answered "Sebastian likes bell peppers a little too much and I think its a common habit that he takes bell peppers from my plate"

Huh, Christian says to himself. That was something new that he learns from the German driver and it was a sweet gesture from Y/N.

As the dinner progressed, Christian couldn't help but notice how the two were in synch with how they order their food and share them with each other. Its like watching a married couple but Christian knows that if he brings this up then the two will go around with their bullshit that they are just friends.

For Christian, there is bound to be a good relationship between the two of them. It would be impossible to not have a good one especially when they are willing to swap dishes with one another or share a dessert together. He honestly thinks that he should have brought a partner of his own so he wouldn't feel too much of a third wheel.

At least, this would be a good story for the team principal to recount when the two get married.

2011, Suzuka Circuit

There was a sea of navy erupting into cheers when Sebastian parked at the parc ferme. The cheers were in different languages and he couldn't even decipher every single one of them. He proceeds to run to his team at the barricade who is awaiting for him and he felt like crying for a wonderful season.

At the end of a barricade, there was a woman dressed in orange and white. It clearly stood up from the rows of navy colored gear. Sebastian didn't miss this opportunity to go to her and give her a bone crushing hug.

"You did it, you did it again"Y/N was ecstatic.

It was a joy for Sebastian to finally celebrate with her. He pictured this happening in Abu Dhabi last year but circumstances prevented him from doing so. He lifts up his helmet and then he gave her his helmet.

"I have something to tell you" he whispered close.

He prays that she can hear him from all the loud noises in the paddock.

"Can't you tell me now?"

"This is important, meet me at Red Bull garage after the podium"Sebastian instructs.

Y/N nods and Sebastian called upon Britta to usher Y/N to the safety of the Red Bull garage. He wanted to make sure that Y/N is perfectly safe and he could see her right away after the whole interviews as well as the podium.

This was the perfect timing to tell her exactly how he feels.

Meanwhile, Britta navigates Y/N back to the familiar Red Bull garage. The younger Webber was confused of what Sebastian wanted to say that is so important that he has to say it in private.

Could it be, she thought about the possibility.

"Britta isn't there anything that you can tell me about Sebastian's weird behavior?"Y/N begged.

"I'm sworn to secrecy" Britta giggled.

Of course Britta knows. She also knows that this is all that Sebastian has been looking forward to in the Japan GP. Britta was the only other person besides Sebastian himself that he would ask her out if he wins his second championship in Japan. She is trying her best to contain her emotions because Y/N seems to be so confused about the whole situation.

"Oh just tell me now, I'm getting so anxious with all of this secrecy-"

"Y/N? What are you doing here"another Australian accent filled the air.

The gears in Britta's head were already turning because this has been the first encounter of the siblings in months and here she was in the middle of it.

"Didn't know I need permission to be here" Y/N responded cooly.

"I think you should especially when you are from the enemy's side" Mark spat.

"Now, I'm an enemy?"

"You moved to McLaren, what are we supposed to do?"

"You fucking fired me"Y/N defended herself "I need a job to sustain myself"

The tension between Mark and Y/N is at its peak. Mark looked like he regretted the things he said but his pride has prevented him to admit that he made a mistake. Y/N, on the other hand, is close to crying. Britta couldn't fathom how much pain Mark is putting Y/N in with his words.

"You should have left this world"Mark stated "You don't belong here"

Y/N dropped the helmet that she was holding. The tears immediately flowed out of her eyes because it was one thing to be constantly told that she doesn't belong in this field of motorsports. She encountered that daily with a lot with its male dominated community and she learned to tune it out. But its another thing to hear it from her own brother.

The tears were no longer because of sadness but pure hatred.

"You are a piece of fucking work Mark"words uttered were laced with venom.

Britta couldn't do anything as Y/N turned to leave in a hurry. She wished she could do something other than glare daggers at Mark and plot the worst kind of PR treatment possible.

Sebastian have to try another day because clearly Mark just ruined his chances today.

2011, Interlagos

Webber wins his first and last of the 2011 season in front of his family.

Dianne and Alan Webber flew all the way from Australia to Brazil to support Mark in his final race for the season. Much to their surprise,they witness Mark go into the top podium spot for the Sunday race. Both the parents are thrilled with Alan saying that "Mark is a very promising driver that is ready to challenge Sebastian for the coming years." Mark is also very grateful to his parents and dedicater the win to them during the post-race interview.

Fans noticed the lack of Y/N Webber during the celebrations. Rumor has it that the former Red Bull employee and now McLaren press officer, is not in good terms with her brother after her move to McLaren. She has been out sight through the whole weekend and she wasn't even spotted during the celebratory family dinner.

Webber siblings caught feuding with each other.

Sources say that the presence of Alan and Diane Webber was not merely to watch Mark race but negotiate between the feud of Mark and Y/N. It has been several months since we last saw Y/N anywhere near Mark and when asked during the interviews about her, Mark refused to answer that question. There is no clear reason how and why it started but everything leads back to Germany where Y/N first donned the orange-white colors of McLaren.

The paddock is currently circulating with a voice recording of a conversation between the two siblings in Mark's driver room. It seems as if Y/N tried to reach out with an olive tree by congratulating Mark but the Red Bull driver was not having it. The recording has been taken down and no one had a full transcript of the whole fight.

Sebastian has been nursing his drink for the past few hours. He knew that he had to be sober because clearly Y/N has a plan to drink the whole place down.

In all the years that Sebastian knew Y/N, he never saw her like this. It was weird how utterly shattered she was and she wouldn't even tell him what Mark said. She just wanted to drink her pain away.

"You should better stop or you'll regret it tomorrow"Sebastian reminded.

The girl raised a middle finger as she proceeds to drink another bottle of beer.

"What even is that point"

He was quite thankful that this was a private bar and no one seems to recognize them. He has already seen the articles and if the media got a whiff of this then it will be a field day for her.

"You can reconcile over the winter break,you live in the same house"Sebastian argues.

"Used to"Y/N clarifies "Used to live in the same house"

Sebastian was confused. He didn't know if this was sober Y/N talking or is this just plain drunkeness.

"They kicked me out. They say I'm a bad daughter, a bad sister, a bad person"Y/N spilled.

If he could only assure her that she is never any of those things, Sebastian would already have. However he knows that his words cannot compare to what she heard from her own flesh and blood. He just gives her a comforting hug to calm her.

"I don't know what to fucking say or do right"the sobbing comes now.

"There there"

It was a moment of silence except for Y/N's cries. It was already past 2 in the morning and the bar was almost empty so they were given the privacy that they need. Sebastian felt upset he couldn't do anything to help her.

"Where do you go now?"Sebastian asked.

He could offer a place back in Germany for her to stay or maybe somewhere near Milton Keynes.

"Michael and Corinna wanted me to stay with them"Y/N answers "And then maybe by January, I'll look for a place in London so its closer to work"

It must be a weird feeling for Y/N to be suddenly forced into this new situation and Sebastian knew how scared the girl must be.

"You'll be alright, you are not alone"

He holds her hand and Y/N leaned on his shoulder for balance.

Sebastian already resigned the idea that he will confess his feelings. There is clearly a lot on Y/N's plate right now and its not a good timing to add more to her worries. If having a good friend is what she needs then that's what Sebastian would be for the time being.

[halfwayunder]

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞

Summary: Some old tweets come out and it puts you between a rock and a hard place.

Warning: Internalized Homophobia

Word Count: 2.6k

Arsenal Training Centre, St. Albans

///

You could sense the tension in the air before you'd even stepped through the doors.

...

The past few days had made you a bit of a nervous wreck. The result of some Sam Kerr fan account on Instagram posting a collection of old tweets you'd made nine years ago, back when you were 13.

Old, profoundly homophobic tweets.

And while some fans, mostly those already partial to you, had taken that substantial amount of time and your youth into account, many others had not. Instead, they hurled abuse alongside calls for the club to drop you at the earliest possible opportunity. You'd even tried disabling comments on your most recent social media posts before quickly realizing that the comments would simply move to older ones. Despite how bad some of them had become, you still found yourself not quite willing to disable the comments on every post you had ever made.

It was your own fault anyway. You had been signed by Arsenal a few months ago, having spent the years before that going from one mediocre team to the next until your international performance in Australia had seemingly caught the attention of several larger clubs, the Gunners included. You'd been positively over the moon when your management agency had called to give you the good news. It should have been your big break, and for a period of time, it was, but a position in such a prestigious club came with a level of increased publicity that you hadn't been fully prepared for.

You knew that you should have purged your Twitter before the contract had even been made public, but you'd long forgotten about those posts, those awful comments, and bigoted 'jokes' that your massively insecure thirteen-year-old self had felt the need to put out into the world to try and convince everyone that you were certifiably straight. To convince yourself in some deluded way that you did not frequently lose sleep over the increasingly intrusive and borderline distressing thoughts that plagued you every time you were around some of your friends at school and the teammates at your youth football academy.

Those thoughts just hadn't been you, of course. Because you were straight.

Or, at least that's what thirteen-year-old you had wanted to think at the time.

In the teenage years that followed those tweets, you had eventually been able to come to terms with your sexuality. It had been a slow, long, and painfully drawn-out process, but while the influence of your conservative family had worked to reinforce the close-minded worldview you had been raised with, being around so many openly gay women in your football career had ultimately proven to be a much stronger force in your life. To see that contrary to what you had been told, these supposedly evil and degenerate people were in fact perfectly ordinary and typically far kinder than the 'just' and 'moral' types you had been surrounded by in your childhood.

But, while you had gradually been deprogrammed from the more outwardly hostile and bigoted elements of how you'd been brought up, you had never quite gotten around to being proud of who you were, to being able to let yourself embrace what you felt and to let yourself be happy. Even today, all these years later, you still struggled to imagine yourself feeling the warmth of another woman, a woman you could love as more than just a friend, and a woman who you could feel comfortable telling the world about.

So, you had simply tried to ignore your feelings. Even as you went from teenager to adult and semi-professional to professional, you resigned yourself to a world in which love was an impossibility, where every teasing question from a friend about your romantic endeavors was expertly deflected with a non-committal answer and a change of topic.

You had learned to be happy for the women in your life who were openly gay and celebrated their relationships sincerely like a good friend would, but you could never deny yourself the reality that every time a close friend announced their new partner, you would feel a twinge of remorse, pain that was sourced from fleeting, quickly suppressed thoughts of a life not lived, an opportunity not taken, and a romance denied its potential. It was a sad way to live, but as sad as it was, the thought of telling the world that you were gay was even worse. It had always been worse.

...

And so now, as the sliding doors of the training centre's lobby parted, you found it a difficult task to keep your nerves from becoming overwhelming.

Management had already spoken to you about the tweets and the response on social media to them. Fortunately, no proper news outlet had put out an article on the 'situation' yet, but the club's PR people had seemed pretty nervous that eventually, one of them would. You'd told them that you hadchanged since you were thirteen and that you'd be more than willing to put out an apology. But, ultimately, their advice had been for you to simply stay quiet and hope it all went away on its own. Something that you had been less than thrilled to hear, as if you were ever confronted by a scenario in which it didn't just go away on its own, and eventually you were told to put out an apology, it would likely be too late by the time that you did.

"Morning, Y/N." you were taken away from your thoughts by the young woman at the front desk, Catherine. She was smiling, but you could tell it was a bit of a sympathetic smile, like the woman was trying to show that she was on your side. You appreciated the sentiment, of course, but being treated differently at all because of this was only making your nerves worse.

"Heya." you tried to greet back casually with a smile of your own, and despite your best efforts, it came across as an 'I know' type of smile, a visual confirmation that you acknowledged what had been happening on the Internet these past few days, and her small attempt to make you feel better.

You had almost passed her, ready to head deeper into the large facility when you abruptly stopped and asked, "Any of the other girls here before me?" To which the shorter woman behind the desk nodded, her demeanour steady in its sympathy towards you, knowing why you would be asking. After all, you were on a team with two gay relationships within it, let alone the number of players who just swung that way in general. And aside from the occasional joke or tease (the latter of which often hurt you to an extent that none of your new friends could possibly know), you were pretty certain that none of them actually thought you were a part of that category.

None of the girls had messaged you in the past twenty-four hours, which, while a little uncommon, wasn't an immediate tell that you had been made a pariah. The last message you'd gotten had been from Steph asking if you were available for a coffee date on Saturday, and that had been just over a day ago. Late enough to have been after that stupid account had posted those screenshots, but early enough to have been before many people knew about it.

Fuck, this was really getting to you.

You continued your way down the corridors of the training centre, each heartbeat feeling a little heavier than the last as you drew closer to the locker room. Knowing that at least a few of the girls would be there this early in the morning, getting changed or having a shower or just socializing as they waited for others to arrive. You wondered if they were talking about you, and if they were, what they were saying. You were wondering if they had already agreed to shun you, or even speak to Jonas about getting rid of you. Fuck, this was fucking getting to you.

You gripped the handle of the bag slung over your shoulder a little tighter as you approached the locker room and took a breath before opening the door, a hundred different scenarios having crossed your mind from the time you'd left the lobby to now.

Stepping into the locker room, the atmosphere was a stark contrast to what you had braced yourself for. It was business as usual—some of the girls were chatting casually, others were prepping their gear. For a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself the hope that perhaps they hadn't seen those tweets or had chosen to ignore them.

But as you made your way to your locker, you could feel eyes on you. Some were quick glances, laced with uncertainty or curiosity, while others held longer, more contemplative stares. No one said anything directly, but the air was thick with unspoken questions and possible conclusions. It was hard to tell.

You kept your head down, focusing on getting ready. The sound of your locker door clanging shut seemed to echo louder than usual, and as you changed into your training gear, you pondered over your next steps. Ignoring the issue didn't feel right, but neither did addressing it without a plan.

"Hey," just then, your attention was taken by the sound of a voice that you quickly recognized as Katie's, her Dublin twang thick as always. The defender's expression was hard to read as she approached, and she sat down next to you, continuing after you replied, "Morning." Your voice was small, and your throat tightened a little, Katie was one of the closer friends you'd made in your somewhat limited time at the club, and her opinion mattered to you.

"Listen, I heard about the tweets," she started, and while you braced yourself for what might come next, you couldn't help but notice her tone being somewhat gentler than you'd expected, but still straightforward. "And, I wanted to say..." she continued, and you felt your heart beat a little bit faster. But, then she stopped, if only for a few seconds, and frowned slightly, though seemingly more to herself than to you. She looked like she was thinking about something, something about you, perhaps.

"Well, I don't know what I wanted to say exactly... but I'm here if you want to talk, or if you need anything, really."

Wait.

What?

You must have had a look on your face because the Irishwoman spoke up again. "Like, if you have anything you wanna get off your chest. I'm here for you, all of the girls are." She remained gentle, but you could tell that heart-to-hearts weren't exactly Katie's style (not that this surprised you) from the way she looked a little awkward, but her sincerity remained all the same.

Breathing just the slightest bit faster, it took you another second or two before you replied, "A lot of the girls?" One of your brows lifting curiously. Was... she implying what you were beginning to think she was implying?

Did Katie know think you were gay?

"Yeah. We care about ya, dummy. And unless you really are some horrible bigot, nothing you say is gonna change that." Katie smiled at that remark and you couldn't help but reflect her, shaking your head lightly in response. "I'm not," you confirmed, your eyes connecting with Katie's. "I was just... different then... I was—" You went to continue, but cut yourself off, your breath almost hitching as you caught yourself at the last moment from finishing that sentence.

I was afraid.

You could virtually see the defender's gaze softening on you in real time and you couldn't bear the sight of it anymore, glancing away and turning your attention to your shoes. The locker room around the pair of you was beginning to fade into the backdrop, although you got the feeling that it hadn't just been Katie's eyes on you. Even as you observed the details of your trainers, you could practically feel the woman next to you's gaze wandering off every few moments to the others in the room, maybe looking for assistance, or trying to convey her unspoken suspicion.

"You were what?" You heard, and this time it wasn't Katie who spoke. It was Beth, who was standing a short distance away by her own cubby. Immediately proving that your heart-to-heart with Arsenal's number 15 hadn't been quite so exclusive, and the locker room's sudden silence ironically brought it right back to the forefront of your attention. Everyone was listening, and many of them staring as well. Was this what they had been talking about before you'd shown up? Had they been in here putting together dots you hadn't known existed? A longing gaze you hadn't suppressed or one too many comments about the eyes or legs of another woman that you'd thought would simply slip under the radar as casual observation? Were those tweets the final confirmation they needed?

Was this the supposed 'gaydar' you had heard about?

"Nothing." you retorted swiftly, shaking your head again as you reached into your locker to resume getting dressed. You hadn't really paid attention to the fact you'd stopped when Katie had come over to talk to you, but the girls didn't seem intent on letting this moment slip away, and you could see Beth approach from your peripheral vision even as you tried to focus on getting changed. You were beginning to almost feel trapped, though you were certain that the culprit behind that particular feeling was more likely to be yourself than your teammates.

"Y/N, we're your friends." Beth said, kneeling down to eye level, while Katie still sat beside you, staring into the side of your head with an expression that was unusually gentle and almost unnervingly so. You still couldn't look at her without feeling your throat close up.

"Trust me... none of us are going to react like how that silly little brain of yours thinks we might." she continued softly and with a warm smile, and now you knew. You knew that they knew.

Your head tilted slightly up to look at Beth, who was now squatted a small distance from you, hands clasped together and blue eyes looking right into your own. You could still sense the looks of the other girls on you too, only now you didn't feel that they were judging, far from it actually. Your leg bounced up and down nervously, and you didn't even have it in you to try to stop it. You felt like you wanted to cry. Why was this so hard? Even now, when it was clear that everyone in the room knew. You just couldn't say it.

Your eyes started to glisten as the first tears threatened to push their way out, and you gave Beth a small, sad smile. Your throat began to hurt in the way that only a sob—or an imminent one—could provoke.

"I think you know already." you finally managed to get out, your voice as small as your presence in that room, and Beth only nodded. You could see some of the other girls nod too, but you were distracted by the feeling of Katie's hand taking your own and clutching it safely. A breath escaped you and it was shaky, uncertain, afraid.

"Yeah, I think we do, pet." the forward replied, closing the gap between you and pulling you in for a hug, her arms finding themselves at home wrapped around your torso. It was as if she'd given you permission to cry, the tears finally beginning to flow, as you buried your head into the other woman's shoulder, quietly sobbing into the fabric of her Arsenal jacket. Katie's hand tightened around your own, and you heard the sound of cleats and shoes closing in around you. You weren't sure how you were going to deal with this new reality moving forward, this world in which people other than yourself knew of your sexuality, but at least you wouldn't be alone.

///

End Notes: Hope you liked this one, guys! I promise not all of my fics will be angsty! I'm also in the process of writing an OC for a self-contained multi-part storyline. But, with how busy I've been with uni, who knows whether I'll actually finish it or not. Thanks for reading!

[jmdbjk]

They take up a lot of space in my head sometimes...

I didn't want to dwell on this in the documentary posts but I know you guys will indulge me as I ramble a little bit.

I want to elaborate on some thoughts I had while watching the second half of Episode 7 when Jungkook went over to Jimin's.

I watched it several times. I made sure to watch it once with a very critical and skeptical eye to keep myself from straying too far...nothing serious but possibly delulu...

This part of the documentary inside Jimin's apartment was filmed on March 13, 2022 following the last PTD Seoul concert.

This was BEFORE PTD Las Vegas where Jimin has told us he talked to the members about his troubles and that's when he embarked on writing the songs that would end up on his album FACE which was released A YEAR after this interview.

It seems Jimin answers his phone in the car after the concert. Tells whoever to get ready and come over and asks what kind of chicken to order. The documentary camera person is already in the car with Jimin... who is he speaking to on the phone? When we eventually see Jungkook coming over later on in this episode, it's natural to assume he was speaking to Jungkook on the phone, who was probably in another car on his way home to his own apartment after the concert, or perhaps already home since his apartment is much closer to Jamsil Olympic Stadium where PTD Seoul was held.

Inside Jimin's residence, he talks about what he does there, basically not a whole lot: eats, sleeps, drinks, has friends over, plays on the computer, and from what we've seen since, he's not much of a decorator.

He wonders if he's revealed too much. I think this was a legitimate question for him, since idols typically do not divulge this sort of thing to the fans. It's plausible to me that Jimin has to unlearn all these preconceived ideas he's had about being an idol in order to forge ahead.

Delivery fried chicken arrives and he runs to get it and runs back to the dining table. Literally runs. The door chimes as it closes. I do love watching him eat. He surely loves his food. A man after my heart.

He talks about how it naturally came about that they needed to have their own spaces. They were maturing young men, they needed their own places even though they'd lived together for so many years. He said their place in Gangnam was so small they put up temporary walls. I believe he was speaking about the house that is now a cafe, Hyuga? He says it was scary living on his own, it was so quiet.

When Jungkook arrives, the door chime sound we hear was different from what it sounded like when Jimin went to the door to get the delivery chicken.

From this footage, we can't know if Jungkook punched in the code and let himself in. Maybe he did, but this footage does not show that. Unless someone is familiar with how that particular door chime sounds when it is unlocked, when it is locked, when it opens and when it closes, we can't know what that chime meant.

We see Jungkook after he's already inside the apartment. He was followed by a camera person. I am certain the camera-person does not have Jimin's apartment's door code. Make of that what you will...perhaps Jungkook came alone and they re-enacted him entering once he got there because it'd be weird if he was just there all of a sudden... we can't know.

Incidentally (fun fact) this is the same jacket Jungkook wore in the video of receiving the President's Award during his university graduation earlier that month (Mar. 2, 2022)... yes, Jeon Jungkook is a university graduate too. He wore a jacket with "QUIT YOUR JOB" across the back of it, to accept a graduation award.... 💀

Anyway back to my delulu...

Jimin and Jungkook are chatting at the table while eating and drinking and get on the topic of their sleeping habits when Jungkook says normally he would take a bath, drink a couple beers and go to sleep and even adds now he goes to sleep earlier. Such a grown up.

Jimin says he falls asleep at 1 a.m. so he must be getting old but it doesn't matter if he falls asleep at 1 a.m. or 6-7 a.m., he sleeps until 4 o'clock in the afternoon.

Jungkook says he decided not to live like that anymore... this the man who in early 2023 was staying up all night to do live broadcasts with us from his living room and waking up his neighbors belting out Unholy, etc... such a grown up.

And then Jungkook says 'oops, I sounded like Yoongi just then, never mind, live how what you want' and whoever that is off-camera wheezing... HAHAHAHAHAHA. Anyway. That whole exchange was... what is it with them? They ride the edge of smart-assy sarcasm and inside jokery with each other constantly. And this time at the expense of Yoongi! HAHAHAHA.

Jimin and Tae sometimes act similarly with each other but it is more role play and nothing like the long-running inside joke Jimin and Jungkook do all the time.

The vibe between them was identical to the one when they were sitting at the dining table that first night of In The Soop 2.

As episode 7 goes on, they show Jimin and Jungkook again, Jungkook is chopping mushrooms and Jimin says "You are doing so well on your own" and "Be careful" and the translation says Jungkook said "okay" but it sounds more to me like a "ayyy stop nagging" sound he made.

Jimin runs behind Jungkook again. Why does Jimin run so much? He's like a nervous, excited little mouse.

They're terrible Youtubers:

The ship wars and solo wars and stupid-things-you-could-ask-during-a-live wars over whether or not Jimin ever ate Jungkook's ramen... FINALLY, after posting all those recipes last year and Jimin saying he wants Jungkook to cook that for him, we see JUNGKOOK HAS COOKED RAMEN FOR JIMIN! Cooked it for him way before any of these wars began too... what a waste of energy.

No, Jimin didn't go over to Jungkook's to eat it, Jungkook came to Jimin and cooked it for him.

Ok, but this is the part that made me need to pause and rewind and write this long-ass post:

Jimin tells us that a friend of his helped him realize he needed to explore the possibility he was depressed.

He recounts the story as they were at Jimin's apartment drinking and they had a small argument. The next morning Jimin wakes up, has totally forgotten the argument and goes over to the friend's to help begin moving. They apologized to each other and the friend came over again that night and the friend said "I think you are severely depressed. You act like you aren't, but you've been acting strange. If you're having a hard time, tell me." Jimin said he didn't think he was having a hard time and the friend told Jimin to take some time to think about it. Jimin says a lot changed after that.

This moment when Jimin is retelling this story, "yet you act like you aren't, but you've been acting strange. If you're having a hard time, tell me." Jimin reaches over and actually touches Jungkook. Look at the way they are looking at each other?

The way Jungkook sat there, looking straight at Jimin while Jimin recounted that conversation/day/moment, chewing on his bottom lip as is his habit, Jungkook nodding during certain points that Jimin was retelling... very very brief moments where body language reveals a lot.

Maybe the "friend" Jimin was supposed to help move, the one who told Jimin he seemed severely depressed... was Jungkook?

You can call me delulu if you want. I see what I see and I hear what I hear.

They have not shown this type of closeness amongst the other members in this entire documentary. And here is Jungkook sitting in Jimin's home, while Jimin tells us this very intimate detail about himself.

If Jungkook was the one... it's plausible, the one who came over to drink, just like they were doing this evening... the one who was moving and Jimin was going to help him. The one who he can look in the eyes and recount this story and his friend can look him straight back in the eye and nod in agreement.

Why retell this story with Jungkook sitting next to him? There were other moments when we know Jungkook is there, he could have been off camera while Jimin told the staff about this intimate moment with his friend. No. He said it while they sat next to each other looking at each other.

It's possible. If not, it seems possible that Jungkook has already heard this story.

Jimin shares more than we've ever heard from him: that he falls into a labyrinth the moment he starts to ponder about what happiness is. He says of course their work and many other things require attention to detail but it's ok if there is vagueness (or imperfection) too. If you get too caught up in the meaning of things (in the importance of things), you feel like you have to risk it all to accomplish them and its ok to let some of it go, enjoy the simplicity of things and not get emotional over everything ... this sounds like Jimin has matured and has tried to push away perfectionism.

He believes he is in a very healthy place mentally right now (at the time of that interview, March 13, 2022) but can't say the same about his body, but he wants to stay healthy as he grows older together with the fans. And Jungkook is still there, but off camera.

This interview was almost two years ago. And now their first solo career endeavors have been accomplished and these two are doing their military obligation together. They've come a long way. We will see them again next year. It won't be as long as it feels.

Anyway, going back to my delulu cave now. Carry on.

[sweetiepoison]

Famous Baby (Social Media Blurb)

It all started with posts you added to your instagram story. Your fans immediately began flooding your dms with questions about why you’re in Toronto.

You of course have friends that live in the city but since speculation has begun about you and a certain NHL player, it’s hard to believe you’re there just visiting friends.

Some news outlets started reporting that you were in Toronto with Shawn, “rekindling” your relationship. They used the fact that you went to his show months before and pictures taken of the two of you at the Drew House party.

You post two more pictures to your insta story during the leafs game which had everyone going crazy.

Fan#1: (y/n) really said let me make it clear who my man is

Fan#2: No fr, the Matthews jersey in the second pic she posted like girl….you aren’t being subtle

Fan#3: (y/n) as a wag is what 2024 needed

-> Fan#4: Can you imagine being a wag for the leafs and now (y/f/n) (y/l/n) is also one and you get to hang out with her!

->Fan#5: She would be the ultimate wag!

Fan#6: Steph Marner posted a picture of the game to her insta story and she tagged (y/n)

->Fan#7: STOP! Mitch and Auston are best friends and now we’ll get (y/n) and Steph as best friends!

Fan#8: apparently some fans went up to her during the game and she was super sweet and took pictures

->Hater#1: people were saying she wasn’t wearing his jersey like that’s so unsupportive

->Fan#9: She doesn’t need to wear his jersey to be supportive like gtfo 😤

@yourusername: Lover girl 💙🤍

Load more comments….

Fan#1: I know ya’ll also saw Auston’s post 👀

->Fan#2: They aren’t even trying to hide it

->Fan#3: fr the matching captions, the hearts being the leafs colors…might as well just tell us

Fan#4: I’m so happy that she’s happy!

Fan#5: I know that tattooed arm!!

Mitchmarner: Just move here already

->yourusername: Can I stay at your place?

->Mitchmarner: yeah you can sleep between Steph and I

->stephmarner: she’s actually taking your spot in our bed 🤷‍♀️

-> yourusername: say less…bags are packed

Fan#6: NOOO!!! It should be you and Harry!! If you ever loved him you would get back together

->Fan#7: Can people move on and accept reality like it’s so weird

->Fan#8: I loved her and Harry, but obviously it wasn’t meant to be and we can’t bash her for moving on with her life

Yourbff#1: It’s giving soft launch

Youbff#2: It’s giving my man my man my man

->yourusername: You two will always be my #1’s no matter what 💖

@AustonMatthews: Lover boy 😮‍💨

Load more comments…

Fan#1: Alexa play that should be me

->Fan#2: Idk who I want to be more Auston or (y/n)

->Fan#3: No bc you are so real for that

Fan#4: It has to be (y/n), she’s worn those sweats before during tour rehearsals

Fan#6: oh he’s down bad for her

->Morganrielly: horrendously bad

Mitchmarner: World’s biggest simp

->Fan#7: the confirmation we’re getting from all their friends in the comments is crazy 🤯

->Fan#8: no literally there was probably a pr meeting they were supposed to attend and obviously no one showed up 💀😭

Hater#1: this is gonna be terrible for his game, she’s just gonna be a distraction

->Fan#9: she literally has a whole life and career outside of him. Like she doesn’t even have the time to be a distraction

->Fan#10: she’s the best distraction to have

->Fan#11: tell me your a hater and desperate without telling me your a hater

Fan#12: Kinda random, but I love that their styles compliment each other

->Fan#13: I was thinking the same thing! I love the lowkey matching

Fan#14: I love that (y/n) was trying to be subtle and Auston was like “no I’m showing off my girl”

Fan#15: hand her back to @harrystyles

Multi-Grammy winning pop star, (y/f/n) (y/l/n) and NHL superstar, Auston Matthews have fans speculating (and fangirling) about a possible romance between the two. While we haven’t seen a picture of the two together, back and forth posts across social media platforms have fans suspecting there might be something more than friendship there.

It’s believed the two met through mutual friend, Justin Bieber. And while we don’t know exactly when it’s clear they started becoming closer at the beginning of this year, starting with the NHL all star games. (Y/n) attended the weekend in Toronto with friends to support Bieber who was a celebrity captain alongside Matthews.

The 7 Rings singer who has been on her world tour since the summer took a break before going overseas and seems to have spent a majority of that break in Toronto.

(Y/n) posted on her instagram story at a Toronto Maple Leafs game this past weekend as they took on the Edmonton Oilers at Scotiabank arena. One post in particular caught fans eyes. At first glance it’s simple enough, a glass of wine at the game, but fans focused on the fact that also featured in the picture was a fan in front of her with a Matthews jersey on, possible a tribute to her new relationship.

When asked about (y/l/n)’s attendance following his 2 point game, Mathew’s gave up very little info. “Yeah she decided to come to a game, but so did a few thousand other people.” Auston continued, “She’s an extremely popular celebrity who is insanely talented so I’m not surprised she received a lot of attention.”

He shut down further conversation about the pair’s relationship status by saying, “I’m not going to talk about my personal life. I know what you want me to say, but it’s not my place to speak for or about her without her permission.” When asked by another reporter if (y/l/n) reached out to him about his goals or the teams win he responded, “And that’s gonna wrap it up here” ending the press conference altogether.

Later in the week the two posted to Instagram within hours of each other and fans pointed out that many of the pictures are similar. (Y/n)’s post included a boat ride featuring the Toronto skyline. Auston was a little bit more bold as his post also included a boat ride with the Toronto skyline and kissing girl but her face can’t be seen. They also had similar captions with (y/n)’s being “lover girl” and Auston’s being “lover boy”.

While they are giving away very little, we along with the rest of the world are excited about this possibly new couple.

[accio-victuuri]

September CPNs round-up 🔴🟡🟢

•exploring the unknown episode 1 clownery 🦴

• exploring the unknown episode 2 candy which is more explanation about tea and coffee connection

• more clues that xz helped wyb out in packing his things for the show

• 9/2 fake rumor per this weibo account :

it’s all fake. one time during work visit XZ：x jie, you can leave first, my friend will come and meet me later x jie：ok, bye xiao laoshi that friend wyb they met for about 3 hours. love means that even if it’s only 3 hours, i will still go and see you.

• someone on weibo mentioning that xz took the legend of zanghai cast to eat at a restaurant in hengdian where there are many bjyx photos on the wall. these were placed by cp fans who frequented that place. treat this as a fake rumor. lol.

• Hello to trunk weibo account who posted their GQ spreads! Oh yes! Bad boys HAHAHAHAHA! i am still hoping that their bazaar untamed spread will have a physical copy someday.

• YBO used a chongqing dialect expression in a video

• a bit of clowing with the snowy mountain drawing and how it’s a possible foreshadowing to bobo’s mountain episode in exploring the unknown

• love expert wang yibo talking about liking someone in exploring the unknown episode 3 & then yibo proceeds to share some photos that we also clowned about

• wyb draws an “x” in the snow and a throwback to bittermelon juice + acting out ( exploring the unknown episode 4 )

• the color red being prominent in jimmy choo ad

• tencent video has posted about how exploring the unknown has the highest barrage. one of their example is obviously from a cpf lol

• some minor candies 9/10 - 9/13 🍬 the most significant one being the similarity between a ybo artwork and xz’s previous ones

• IF and Dove livestream candies

• they both like snail rice noodles

• i’m just adding this here because it’s bjyx brainrot HAHAHAHAHAHA! i think the photos speak for itself. especially with bobo’s new found talent for tying ropes. 👀👀👀

i still cannot find any innocent meaning on why xz decided to use that bdsm bunny shirt. so yeah. 🤷🏻‍♀️

• georges hobeika wedding clothes match

• not really cpn but fandom is happy that cql was included in yibo’s 10 year anniversary poster there were also some noted similarities in editing from the video they posted to how xzs does it, but at this point it’s already a pattern lol. personally, what i’m eating is that CQL was 23rd on the list of works, which is ai zan ( love zhan ).

• zz’s mid autumn festival post ( 18:21 )

• The Moon Represents My Heart CPN & 9/20 things. A very busy day for cpfs!

the same night, XZ flies off to Macau and his look is similar to something wyb wore before. twins!

• pizza in Milan 🍕

• empty world / i’m so lucky i have us cpn

• they both love animals

• beijing culture forum photoshoot elements taking inspiration from wyb photos

• sparkling tom ford jackets ✨

• zz is in guangdong and wyb in zhuhai 👀 ; more clowning related to the smiling face emoji

• wyb likes sea turtles the most

• both of them promoting their hometowns!

• another lrlg clue that came true ( yibo saying he wants to go home )

• XZS 5th anniversary video sweets

-END.

<<< previous month

[shitswiftiessay]

taylor swift and her parasocial relationship with joe alwyn

as we know, joe alwyn was spotted at an event recently, wearing an “artists for ceasefire” pin. i guess that really wounded taylor’s ego that he was getting positive reactions, it CERTAINLY wounded her fans, and so she decided to perform her song “you’re losing me” live for the first time ever to remind everyone that joe is bad and taylor is America’s #1 victim, ALWAYS.

and she not only performed “you’re losing me” live for the first time, she also announced a bonus track for her upcoming album which we ALL know is going to be a bunch of diss tracks against joe.

are we surprised by this? NO, of course not, people on twitter literally predicted this, because taylor always does something related to “you’re losing me” when joe is spotted at an event ANYWHERE.

CASE IN POINT:

on may 23, 2023, joe alwyn was spotted at the cannes film festival

and the VERY next day, taylor announced an exclusive new version of her midnights CD, with the new song “you’re losing me” on it.

the song remained CD exclusive for a few months, until november, when joe alwyn was spotted at the GQ men of the year event.

the very next day, taylor quickly got her team to work, putting out articles to shade him and remind everybody of how HAPPY she is with the football player.

and then exactly 13 days later, taylor announced that her song “you’re losing me” would be available on ALL streaming platforms, as a “thank you” to her fans. yeah, i’m SURE that was the reason. thank you for getting me to the top, now go harass my ex now, please.

and she also had her friend/LAPDOG keleigh teller liking anti-joe tik tok posts.

if it hasn’t been clear that taylor swift is OBSESSED with her ex, it is clear as fucking day now. and we already know she’s gonna release a diss track off her new album on his birthday. she is extremely predictable with her pettiness and is doing everything she can to try and hurt joe, and incite her fans against him.

unfortunately for her, joe will continue being unbothered, while taylor’s stuck with her current boyfriend who is an egotistical drunk piece of shit with a bad temper and SKIDMARKS, who can’t even remember the lyrics she changed for him.

[outlanderskin]

Tobias Menzies

I was reading on a card how much would fit in ten years and I saw that in 10 Years

fit 120 Months

521,714 Weeks

3652 Days

87648 Hours

5258880 Minutes

315532800 Seconds.

And even in all this, it doesn't fit what it meant for me to wait for him.

Within these 10 years, there are memories of being persecuted since the beginning when I said that he was my favorite.

All the times, I had to explain the difference between actors and characters for people who hated him because of Frank and BJR.

All the times I've had to say that I really like Sam, but that at the top of my list will always be Tobias, and this isn't a sin.

All the times I said there was no dispute between them.

All the times I was hurt when I saw people from my side of the fandom excluding him from photos or wishing he wouldn't go to some events because it would "take the focus" away from the main actors couple (yes, this stupid thing happened).

I've been in this fandom since the beginning, and anyone who knows me knows that for me, it's always been about him. I'm not someone who started using Tobias to justify hatred or to disguise an unhealthy love for Sam. It was natural from the first day I looked at him. And a thousand times, I've expressed my pride about how private, talented, different, down-to-earth he is.

I've been going to Cons of Outlander since 2015, but he rarely does Cons, I had already met the loves of my fandom friends' lives, but never mine. Until Saturday, April 13, 2024.

When I took the first photo (with him and Sam) and saw him for the first time, everything around me disappeared completely. There he was, finally. I was practically led by my friend, I gathered all the courage to say where I came from, then he blinked, and all my senses and rationality, and 🎶🎶🎶 all that was me, was gone🎶. I don't remember how I left the room, but my friends remember... I needed to be strong, I thought. There would still be three photos with him alone (one of them a gift from much-loved friends), a photo with him and Sophie, and an autograph. I would have to maintain my sanity until then.

For the first time, I understood the fact that Sam Heughan's fans left photo shoots shaking.

During the photo shoot, I spoke quietly, and so did he, and for me, it was like a dance because I said he decided the poses and I followed. I left the session and I want to thank from the bottom of my heart the girl on the team who asked me how I was and I could only say "he's my favorite" and she hugged me.

There was a rush at the autograph, but I gave him a book about theatre from my country, and I believe it was a gift he didn't expect. He thanked me with his hand on his chest, like the gentleman he is and at that moment I wanted to be royalty because I was going to give him all the honors of a noble English knight that I could find in the Buckingham Palace . Do I like British Monarchy? I like Tobias Menzies.

Ah....how I wish I could sit down with him and say he has a fan page that I manage, say that I admire him for being truly discreet in every way. Ask about his process of acting , speak about Stanislavski, Brecht, Ibsen, talk about my experiences in the classroom with The Theater of the Oppressed and say how good is for me to see someone like him acting. But conventions are collective experiences, and there would be no time.

In ten years, a lot can happen... all this time waiting for him. And I would do it all again. Someone like him was worth waiting for.

[whereforarthur]

Fate is in The Stars

A/N: First Request? Chris MD x Plus Size Reader

Pairing: Chris MD x Plus Size Reader Summary: Chance encounter at an Arthur Hill concert leads to more than what the reader expected. Word Count: 4.6k Rating: PG-13 Category: Fluff with some impure thoughts

*****

The world is changed because you are made of ivory and gold. The curves of your lips rewrite history.

-Oscar Wilde

"I can't believe we're actually here!" Y/n squealed into the night, her excitement barely contained by the buzzing crowd around them.

"I know, right?" her friend Rachel shouted back, her voice lost in the sea of chatter and anticipation. They had been waiting for this moment for months, ever since the Arthur Hill concert tickets went on sale. Y/n had scored two VIP passes after hours of refreshing her browser, and Rachel had promised to be her plus one.

The lights dimmed, and the murmur of the crowd grew to a deafening roar. Y/n felt her heart race as the stage lit up, revealing Arthur Hill and his band, their silhouettes stark against the brightness. The music started, a deep bass that seemed to resonate in her very bones, and Rachel grabbed her hand, pulling her closer to the barricade. They were so close, Y/n could feel the heat from the lights and the vibration of the music in her chest.

And then, it began. The opening notes of "Bride and the Gloom" filled the stadium, and Y/n's eyes grew wide. This was it, the moment she had been waiting for. Her favorite song, live. She had listened to it on repeat for weeks, memorizing every lyric, every beat, every breath Arthur took in the recording. Now, she was experiencing it in real life, and it was nothing short of magical. Rachel squeezed her hand, her eyes shining with excitement as the band hit the chorus, and the crowd around them sang along. Y/n's voice was lost in the sea of sound, but she didn't care.

We'll raise a glass to the past, it's the bride and the gloom

There's nothing I couldn't do

It's just the bride and the gloom

You know that ring doesn't suit

It’s just the bride and the...

But amidst the throng of adoring fans, there was one set of eyes that kept finding hers. Chris MD, a popular YouTuber and a close friend of Arthur Hill, was standing off to the side of the stage, watching the performance with an intensity that seemed almost too focused for someone who had probably seen this show dozens of times. He was always mocked about his height, but taller than her, with a mop of unruly curls and a boyish smile that had won millions of hearts online. His eyes, a piercing blue, remained locked on Y/n as she danced, her body moving in time with the music, her hair a wild mess around her face. Rachel noticed the lingering gaze and nudged her. "Look," she shouted, pointing discreetly.

Y/n's cheeks flushed as she met Chris's gaze, a mix of excitement and embarrassment flooding her. She had always enjoyed his videos, his sense of humor and the way he could make even the most mundane moments seem interesting. But here he was, watching her, and she had no idea why. She tried to play it cool, focusing back on the stage, but her heart was racing in a way that the music couldn't explain away. Rachel looked at her with a knowing smile, mouthing, "Oh my God!" and fanning herself dramatically.

Chris's eyes never left her, and Y/n felt a strange thrill at being the center of his attention. She danced with more abandon, letting the music take over. Every time she glanced his way, his smile grew a little wider, his eyes a little brighter. It was like he was seeing something in her that she hadn't even known was there. The concert was already a night to remember, but this... this was something else entirely.

As the music grew more intense, so did the way Chris studied her. He couldn't keep his eyes off her figure, especially her thighs, which seemed to have a rhythm of their own as they moved to the beat. She had always been self-conscious about her size, but under his gaze, she felt a confidence she hadn't known before. The lyrics of the songs seemed to resonate with her in a new way, and she felt like Arthur Hill was singing directly to her. Or maybe it was just the energy of the crowd and the way the lights painted her in a glow.

Chris's eyes lingered on the way her thighs curved and flexed as she danced, a hypnotic sight that drew him in even more. Y/n had never felt so alive, so seen. Rachel gave her a look that was equal parts shock and envy, whispering in her ear, "You're killing it, girl!" But Y/n barely heard her over the pounding bass and the rush of blood in her ears. She was lost in the music, in the moment, in the undeniable connection she felt with Chris had suddenly made her the star of this show.

The second song of the night began, a slower, more intimate piece that had the entire stadium swaying in unison. Y/n's movements matched the tempo, her thighs moving in a gentle, seductive rhythm that seemed to speak directly to Chris. He leaned against the barricade, his eyes never leaving her, a grin playing at the corners of his lips. It was as if the music had cast a spell over them, and she was the only one who knew the secret. Rachel leaned closer, her eyes wide with excitement. "Do you see that?" she shouted, nodding towards Chris. "He's totally into you!"

Y/n felt a thrill run down her spine. She had always admired Chris for his positive body image advocacy online, for the way he never shied away from sharing his own insecurities. Now, she realized, he was looking at her the same way he looked at every person he met in his videos—like she was important, like she mattered. With a newfound boldness, she decided to lean into it, her hips moving in a way that made Rachel gasp.

The chorus hit, and Arthur's voice soared through the speakers. The lights painted the crowd in a kaleidoscope of colors, and Y/n felt like she was floating. Rachel was still shouting in her ear, but she couldn't hear the words over the music and the pounding of her heart. All she knew was that Chris's gaze was like a warm embrace, holding her tighter than any fan's adoration ever had.

Chris's inner thoughts were a whirlwind of disbelief and fascination. He had seen thousands of fans at concerts before, but something about her was different. Her passion, her confidence, the way she moved—it was mesmerizing. He had always been drawn to plus-size women, their curves a celebration of life and beauty that he felt was often overlooked. But it was more than just her body that captivated him. It was her spirit, the way she threw herself into the music without a care for what anyone else thought. He had never seen someone so utterly free.

The setlist moved on, but Chris's gaze remained steadfastly on Y/n. He was torn between watching the performance and watching her. The way her face lit up with every beat, the way she sang along to every word, the way she was fully present in the moment—it was like nothing he had ever experienced. He found himself tapping his foot along with her, his own passion for the music reignited by her infectious energy.

George, nudged him playfully. "You're supposed to be watching the show, not ogling the fans," he teased, his voice carrying over the music.

Chris dragged his eyes away from Y/n for a moment, a sheepish grin crossing his face. "I know, but look at her, George," he said, pointing her out. "She's incredible."

George followed his gaze, his eyebrows raising slightly. "Yeah, she's got something," he admitted. "You should go say hi after the show."

Chris nodded, his heart racing at the thought. He had never been one to shy away from talking to fans, but this was different. This was more than just a casual meet-and-greet. This was… something he couldn't quite put his finger on. But he knew he had to find out.

*****

The concert ended in a flurry of applause and cheers, the final notes of "You're Not a God" echoing through the stadium. Y/n's heart sank a little as the lights came up and reality set back in. Rachel looked at her with a mischievous smile. "We get to go backstage now," she said, nudging her gently. "You can't just leave without saying hello to your new fan club president."

They made their way through the crowd, their VIP passes flashing like beacons in the dim light. Backstage was a whirlwind of activity, with roadies rushing to pack up equipment and band members signing autographs for eager fans. Rachel grabbed her arm and steered her through the chaos, her excitement palpable. "Come on, let's find Arthur!" she exclaimed.

But it was Chris that Y/n's eyes searched for, her heart racing at the thought of seeing him again. And there he was, standing near the stage entrance, surrounded by his friends. Rachel rolled her eyes playfully. "Looks like someone's more interested in the friend, than the artist himself," she teased.

Their eyes met once more, and Y/n felt her cheeks heat up. Rachel pushed her gently. "Go on," she whispered. "I'll grab us some water."

Chris's heart skipped a beat as he watched her approach, her eyes shy but determined. He felt a strange mix of excitement and nerves, his mind racing with thoughts. What was it about her that had made him unable to look away? Was it her confidence, her beauty, or the way she owned the space around her? He knew he had to talk to her, to find out what made her light shine so brightly in a sea of faces.

He straightened up, his hand reaching out to push his hair back from his face, a nervous gesture he hadn't realized he had. His mind was racing with what to say, how to start a conversation without seeming like a creep. He had talked to countless fans before, but this was different. He didn't just want a selfie or a story for his next video; he wanted to know her, to understand the person behind the mesmerizing dance moves.

As she drew closer, the cacophony of the backstage area seemed to fade away, leaving only the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. She was even more stunning up close, her eyes sparkling with the same excitement he had seen from afar. He felt like he was seeing her for the first time, even though he had watched her dance for almost the entire concert. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts.

"Hey," he finally managed to say, his voice a little hoarse. Y/n blushed and offered a tentative smile, her eyes searching his. She had never expected to be the object of his attention, especially not in the midst of the chaos that was a backstage meet-and-greet. "I'm Chris," he said, extending his hand. "Chris MD."

Her hand was small in his, but it was warm and firm. "I know," she replied, her voice a little shaky. "I'm Y/n."

Chris's eyes flickered down to her thighs again, tracing the curves that had captured his attention from the moment he first saw her. They were like sculpted waves, rolling and crashing with every step she took, a testament to the strength and grace that lay beneath. He felt a jolt of something he hadn't expected—desire, perhaps?—and quickly schooled his features into a friendly smile. "Your dance moves are incredible," he said, hoping his voice didn't betray the tumult of his thoughts.

Y/n blushed even deeper, her cheeks a rosy hue that contrasted with her dark hair. "Thank you," she murmured, her eyes dropping to the floor. "I've always loved to dance."

Chris felt a pang of regret for making her feel self-conscious. He hadn't meant to make her uncomfortable. "You should," he said gently, lifting her chin so she met his gaze again. "You have a beautiful energy."

Y/n's eyes searched his, looking for any sign of mockery or insincerity, but all she found was genuine admiration. She took a deep breath, letting his compliment wash over her. "Thank you," she said, her voice stronger this time. "Your videos are amazing too. You make me laugh, even on my worst days."

Chris's smile grew wider, his nerves dissipating as they talked. "That's what I aim for," he said, pleased that she enjoyed his content. They talked about their favorite Arthur Hill songs, their shared love for the band's raw emotion and poetic lyrics. Rachel hovered nearby, sipping her water and watching the exchange with a knowing smile. Y/n felt a strange sense of comfort with Chris, as if she had known him for years rather than just moments.

As the backstage area began to clear, George poked his head out from the dressing room. "Chris, mate, we've got to get going," he called over the din. "Arthur's waiting."

Chris nodded, reluctant to tear his gaze away from Y/n. "I'll be there in a sec," he shouted back, not taking his eyes off her. "I just need to, uh, say goodbye to a fan."

Y/n's heart dropped at the word "fan." It was a stark reminder of the divide between them—the one who was watched and the one who watched. She felt her cheeks heat up, the sudden weight of his celebrity status making her self-conscious. Was she just another face in the crowd to him? Just another person to entertain and forget?

But Chris's gaze was unwavering, his smile never dimming. "I'd love to get to know you better," he said, leaning in slightly. "Maybe grab a coffee or something?"

Y/n's eyes widened, the question hanging in the air like a confetti of hope. She nodded, unable to believe her luck. "Yeah," she managed to say, her voice barely a whisper. "That would be amazing."

They exchanged numbers, the digits feeling like a secret handshake that admitted her into an exclusive club. Rachel shot her a thumbs up from across the room, her grin splitting her face as she mouthed, "Told you!"

The days that followed were a blur of excitement and nerves. Y/n replayed their conversation in her head on repeat, dissecting every word, every smile, every look. She had never been on a date with someone like Chris—someone who saw her as more than just a fan, more than just a body. Rachel was a flurry of questions and advice, her enthusiasm only fueling Y/n's butterflies.

Chris, on the other hand, couldn't get Y/n's thighs out of his mind. It wasn't just their beauty that captivated him; it was the power they held, the way they moved with such confidence and grace. He found himself pausing during his workouts to imagine her dancing, the way her body flowed with the music. He knew he had to see her again, to find out if the connection he felt was as strong offstage as it was in the spotlight.

*****

The days dragged on, filled with anticipation for their coffee date. Chris's schedule was hectic, but he made sure to clear his calendar for her. He wanted to show her that she was more than just a pretty face in the crowd; she was someone he truly cared about getting to know.

Finally, the day arrived. Y/n had spent hours picking out the perfect outfit—something that made her feel confident, but not like she was trying too hard. Rachel had insisted on helping, and together they settled on a cute dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. Y/n checked herself in the mirror one last time before leaving, taking a deep breath to calm her racing heart.

They agreed to meet at a quaint little café downtown, a place that was usually quiet enough to have a good conversation without being disturbed by fans coming up to him asking for pictures. Rachel had given her a pep talk on the way there, reminding her to just be herself. "You're already amazing," she had said. "Don't let nerves get in the way."

Chris was already there when Y/n arrived, sitting at a small table by the window. He looked up as she approached, a genuine smile lighting up his face. She felt her heart stutter at the sight of him, looking even more handsome than he did at the concert. He stood up, pulling out a chair for her, and she couldn't help but feel like a celebrity herself.

The conversation flowed easily as they sat down, the warmth of his gaze making her feel seen in a way she hadn't in a long time. They talked about their favorite concerts, shared stories of their past, and even touched on their hopes and fears. Y/n found herself opening up to him in a way she rarely did with others, her nerves slowly dissipating with each shared laugh.

Chris listened intently, his eyes never leaving hers. He had never felt this drawn to someone he had just met. Her passion for life, her honesty, and the way she talked about her love for music made him feel alive in a way that his career had never managed to do.

He took a sip of his tea, his eyes flicking down to her thighs, which were barely covered by the hem of her dress. He couldn't help but drink in the sight of them, the way they had at the concert. They were like a piece of art, a sculpture that had been crafted by the gods themselves. He felt a sudden urge to reach out and touch them, to feel the warmth and strength that emanated from her.

Y/n caught his gaze and felt a thrill run through her. She had never felt so desired, so appreciated for just being herself. She had always felt like she had to hide her body, to make it smaller, to make it fit in. But with Chris, she felt like she could be herself, and he would only love her more for it.

"So, what do you do when you're not at concerts?" she asked, eager to learn more about the man behind the camera.

Chris leaned back in his chair, his gaze still lingering on her thighs before returning to her face. "I make videos, mostly about my life, my friends, and our adventures. But I also talk about important stuff, like body positivity and mental health."

Y/n's eyes lit up. "Oh, I've seen some of those! They're so inspiring."

Chris chuckled, his cheeks reddening slightly. "Thanks," he said, running a hand through his hair. "But it wasn't always easy. You know, being a short guy in a world that worships height can be tough." He took a deep breath, his eyes dropping to his plate. "And the ear pinning… well, that was just another thing that set me apart."

Y/n nodded, her heart going out to him. "I've had my share of teasing too," she said softly. "For being plus size."

Chris's eyes met hers, filled with understanding. "It's not fun, is it?" he said. "But you know what? I've learned to embrace it. My height, my ears—it's all part of who I am. And if people can't handle that, then they're not worth my time."

Y/n felt a surge of admiration for him. It was easy to talk about body positivity from behind a screen, but to live it so openly was something else entirely. "You're right," she said firmly. "I've been trying to do the same. It's not always easy, but when you find someone who appreciates you for who you are…" She trailed off, her cheeks heating up.

Chris leaned in, his eyes earnest. "You're absolutely beautiful, Y/n. Your confidence on the dance floor was… captivating."

Y/n felt her cheeks flush at the compliment. She had never been one to take them easily, especially from someone as famous as Chris. "Thank you," she murmured, playing with the edge of her napkin.

*****

Chris reached out, his hand brushing against her thigh. It was a small, almost unnoticeable gesture, but it sent a jolt of electricity through her body. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as if he were tracing the lines of a map he had studied for years but never dared to touch. She looked up at him, surprised, but he just smiled, his eyes never leaving hers.

Y/n felt her breath catch in her throat as his hand lingered there, the warmth of his skin seeping through the fabric of her dress. It was a simple touch, but it spoke volumes. It said, "I see you. I want you." It was a declaration of attraction that was as subtle as it was powerful. Rachel's words echoed in her mind: "You're killing it, girl." Maybe, just maybe, Rachel had been right.

Chris's thumb traced the curve of her thigh, the pad of his finger grazing the soft skin. The sensation sent shivers up her spine, and she had to resist the urge to lean into his touch. His eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of discomfort, but all he found was a mix of surprise and arousal. He gave her a questioning look, and she nodded almost imperceptibly, giving him the green light to continue.

The café around them faded away as they sat there, the only sound the clinking of cups and the low murmur of other conversations. The tension between them grew with each passing moment, a palpable force that seemed to thicken the air. Y/n felt like she was in a dream, her heart racing and her breath shallow. She had never felt so desired, so alive.

Chris's hand moved higher, his fingers tracing the curve of her hip. The fabric of her dress was thin, offering little resistance to his touch. She could feel his breath on her neck, warm and sweet like the scent of fresh tea. He leaned in closer, his lips a whisper away from her ear. "Your confidence is intoxicating," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate in her very soul.

Y/n felt a thrill run through her as his words washed over her. She had never been the type to attract guys like Chris, not in her wildest dreams. But here he was, touching her, talking to her like she was someone special. She swallowed hard, her heart racing. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own pulse.

Chris leaned in even closer, his breath hot against her neck. "Can I tell you a secret?" he asked, his voice low and conspiratorial.

Y/n nodded, her eyes wide with anticipation. "Of course," she breathed.

Chris leaned in closer, his voice a low murmur that seemed to resonate through her very bones. "I haven't been able to get you out of my head since the concert," he confessed, his eyes lingering on her thighs. "The way you danced, the confidence you had—it was like nothing I've ever seen before."

Y/n felt a shiver run down her spine, a mix of excitement and nerves. She had always been self-conscious about her size, but with Chris, she felt like she could be herself. "Really?" she asked, her voice a little breathless.

Chris nodded, his eyes dark with desire. "Everytime I close my eyes, I see you," he said, his voice a low rumble. "The way you moved to the music, the way your thighs looked in the lights… it was like watching poetry in motion."

Y/n's breath hitched at his words, her heart racing. She had never felt so desired, so appreciated for her body. Rachel's voice echoed in her mind, urging her to live in the moment. She leaned in slightly, her eyes never leaving his. "You can tell me more," she whispered, her voice thick with anticipation.

Chris took a deep breath, his hand still resting gently on her thigh. He could feel the heat of her skin through the fabric of her dress, and he knew he had to be careful. He didn't want to scare her off, but the attraction was too strong to ignore. "Can I kiss you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n's eyes widened, and she felt a jolt of excitement run through her. She had never been asked so directly, so sincerely. She searched his eyes for any hint of doubt, but all she found was a raw, unfiltered want. She nodded, her voice a soft murmur. "Yes."

Chris leaned in, closing the gap between them. His eyes never left hers as their lips met, a gentle pressure that grew more insistent with each passing second. It was a kiss that spoke of desire and admiration, of the connection that had sparked between them in the chaos of the concert. Y/n's eyes fluttered closed, her hands coming up to rest on his shoulders, her body responding to the touch she had craved.

The kiss deepened, their tongues dancing together in a silent symphony of passion. Y/n felt her body come alive under his touch, her curves pressing against him as he pulled her closer. The café around them faded into the background, the only reality the warmth of his embrace and the sweet taste of his lips. Rachel's words of encouragement from earlier in the night seemed like a distant echo, but they had been right. This was the start of something she had never dared to dream of.

Chris's hand slid further up her thigh, his grip firm but gentle. He could feel her tremble with each touch, her breath hitching as his fingers traced patterns on her skin. He broke the kiss, his eyes searching hers for any sign of hesitation. But all he saw was a reflection of his own desire, a spark that had been lit and was now threatening to consume them both.

"I want you," he murmured, his voice hoarse with need. Y/n's heart raced in response, her body aching for more of his touch. She nodded, unable to find the words to express the intensity of the emotions swirling within her.

Chris took her hand, leading her out of the café into the cool night air. The city lights twinkled around them, a stark contrast to the heat building between their bodies. They walked in silence, the anticipation of what was to come thick and heavy. Y/n could feel the eyes of passersby on them, but she didn't care. All that mattered was the man beside her, the one who had seen her in a way no one else had.

The date had been nothing short of magical, a whirlwind of laughter and connection that had left her feeling like she was floating. As they approached her apartment, she knew that this night was only the beginning of something beautiful. Rachel's words from earlier played on repeat in her mind, and she realized that her friend had been right all along.

Chris stopped at her door, his hand still clutching hers tightly. "I had an amazing time," he said, his eyes searching hers. "I don't want this to end."

Y/n felt a warmth spread through her chest, her heart racing. "Me neither," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "This was just the beginning."