#and honestly if she hadn’t kept ignoring me and hadn’t kept trying to have this conversation after I said I was busy maybe I would’ve taken

[citizen-zero]

After years of my mom obsessing over my hair and forcing me to do various treatments on it and threatening punishment if I didn’t comply. I’ve come to understand why Britney shaved her head that one time. I know that was something she did as part of a mental breakdown but fuck yeah good for her. I get it.

[butchpeace]

My older brother is an autogynephilic TIM.

After a long time of trying to hide my real feelings and convince myself to be supportive, I came to the conclusion that I couldn’t do that anymore.

I believe that a main motivation for his transition was jealousy towards me growing up. It’s become increasingly clear that he genuinely just wishes he were me.

He was misogynistic, controlling, talked down to me and treated me like I was stupid during our childhood. As a teenager, he got interested in pedophilic anime. The kind with the characters who look like little girls but are supposed to be high schoolers. He likely became interested in yuri manga at this time - pedophilic anime lesbian porn.

The way he treated me had a very negative effect on my self esteem and mental health as a young woman, and that was part of what led to my trans identification and eventual transition. I hated him. But he had also been part of what shaped my negative self image, and I had internalized it. The idea that I was stupid, not worth the same as he was, that my feelings didn’t matter, that I was a burden on the family. It wasn’t just him, but my childhood in general shaped me into a self-hating young woman who felt like she needed to escape and become something else.

A few years after I began transition, he “came out”. We were living under the same roof at the time, and I was truthfully very uncomfortable. I was on edge all the time, and didn’t feel at home in my own apartment. And I kept trying to push that feeling down because I thought it was the right thing to do. I thought I was being judgmental, that my instincts were wrong and I shouldn’t listen to them. That’s when I started peaking and started to consider detransition. I found a roommate and moved out. And even then I felt guilty, because he whined about not having anyone else to live with.

When he changed his name, he was pissed off that he hadn’t been born female, because he wanted my name. He said this in front of the whole family. That he doesn’t know what name he wants to go by, his only idea was what he would have been named if he were female, which is my name. He ended up choosing one of the most cliche TIM names you can choose. Another time, someone asked him his favorite colors. He told them his favorite colors were the ones I always said were my favorite as a kid. This isn’t a coincidence - It’s a specific list of colors.

These sound like just little things, and most people would brush it off, but they instantly made my brain go into red alert mode. Since then he’s become very outspoken about being a “lesbian”. He talks about wishing he could find a girlfriend, being a “lonely lesbian”, a “useless lesbian”, being “soooo gay”, whatever. He has the flags, he suddenly likes cats despite being allergic and never liking animals at all before. He watches anime and tv shows with lesbian characters and thirsts after characters like Vi from Arcane while talking about his “gender envy”.

He makes objectifying comments about women’s bodies, calls himself and my female family members “bitch”. Infantilizes himself and loves to talk about how “weak” he is. (At 5’11 with a clearly male frame) There are too many things to list honestly. All the ways in which it’s obvious that he has no idea what being a woman actually is. It’s just some concept he made up in his head, a male fantasy of what womanhood entails.

We’ve only seen each other a few times a year at most in the years since then, and I’ve just tried to avoid and ignore and not engage in conversations with him. All the while he acts nice, like he never treated me like shit growing up, as if being trans was his problem and “becoming a woman” fixed him. As if I’m the one being unreasonable for being distant and not having a close relationship.

I’m seeing more and more clearly how hollow it all is. How fake it all is. How probably perverted it all is. He was a harmful influence on my life. And now he acts like he’s a woman, and it’s hollow, and somehow he thinks that means it’s all erased and forgiven.

We’re both grown adults now, and he only physically hurt me once as a kid, but growing up seeing him fly into a rage every time I didn’t agree with him still makes me afraid of the threat of violence from him. That’s part of why it’s hard to speak up and why it’s still uncomfortable to be around him.

The crazy thing is that I know multiple detrans women who have TIM older brothers. I’ve heard from other women that there seems to be a trend of lesbians in general with TIM older brothers. There’s a pattern here, and it’s not a good one.

We need to be talking about this. Stop the silence 📣

[messylustt]

 ݁   𓂃 ៸៸៸ deer in headlights — rafe cameron + reader ( obx ) : when trying to help your sad friend at a party leads to an unexpected kiss from rafe.

contents : slight dick!rafe. nsfw intentions (not full on sex tho). slight dubcon (not heavy or roughly forced) tittie licking/sucking. tittie grab. kissing.

your eyes scanned the party mess. it had only been an hour or so. but more than likely people came drunk way before. most go from party to party, trying to find one that won’t get busted. we’ll see how long this one lasts.

girls yelping, some giggling, most a boy crazy mess. guys hollering, others giggling themselves, nearly twirling their hair at the bent over girls “enjoying” their drinks. you couldn’t help but smile. even though you never found yourself in the centre of it all, you were far from hating the experience.

but that’s when you spotted your friend, scarlet, bolt upstairs, pushing her sleeve down to her fingertips to wipe the mix of tears and mascara from her face. you stood up, tilting past the edge of the couch to reach her.

“scarlet!” you call, trying to quicken your steps. what had happened? she either ignores you or simply can’t hear over the drowning base of the music.

you follow her upstairs. “scarlet?” you call again. and this time she shifts her gaze, her head turning towards you.

“hey..” you smile softly reaching her side. “what’s wrong? why the tears?”

scarlets bottom lip quivers, even if she trying to force it down, while her brows remain furrowed and bent with hurt. she looks as though she wishes to say something, but then she gulps. her expression pales as she rushes into the bathroom, but not before she shuts the door stopping you from entering.

scarlet was always a little complicated. easily embarrassed despite her confidence.

there’s a moment where all you can hear is puking as you try to turn the handle finding that the door is locked. “no. don’t come in.” she says, breathless after a moment.

“scarlet—“ you say in protest, wanting to help. “no! please.” she replies, cutting you off.

you sigh, knowing she hates anyone seeing her puke. “i just wanna help.” you try.

“no I—“ you can hear her hiccuped breathing. “i don’t want him to know…” her tone is almost pitiful.

“who?” you ask standing by the door.

“kelce…”

“kelce?” your brows furrow before thinning out. “is he the boy you kept telling me about?”

she sniffles. “maybe..”

“scarlet…” you say softly “what happened?”

“it was a joke. all of it. ‘sleep with the slut’.” she scoffs. “just because i like boys…a lot of them doesn’t mean i’m some…look liking dick shouldn’t be some god awful issue.”

your brows furrow again, but this time in anger. you hadn’t known kelce that well. only through living on this island, like most. but you had thought he was merely a guy looking to stay ‘cool’ or ‘popular’, not an outright dick.

not like his friend, rafe. rafe cameron. now, if anyone was to easily be called a ‘dick’ it would be him.

“are you sure i can’t come in?” you ask. “please just…” she replies, to which you ease her. “it’s okay. just relax…let me go get you some water.”

you rush back downstairs, squeezing past the out of tuned drunks, and high teens. you head to the kitchen. but as you do, you catch a conversation going on in the hallway.

“i fucked her over man…” the voice, you can identify as kelce’s. “i…why did i do that?”

“hey, calm down. don’t get worked up alright?” the other voice…rafe’s.

“nah man..” kelce sounds stressed, almost on the verge of tears.

“listen to me man. it was a stupid joke. she shouldn’t have taken it to heart, yeah?” rafe’s tone is dismissing towards scarlet, which honestly doesn’t leave you very surprised.

“fuck..” kelce mutters “but now she doesn’t…want me…want anything to do with me most likely.”

“then move on.” rafe replies, speaking as though that concept is a breeze.

“move on…” kelce mutters, repeating slowly.

“yeah, move on. you’re at a party for christs sake. have fun. plenty of girls around.” rafe replies, hitting kelce’s shoulder by the sounds of it.

you peek slightly round the corner to watch them.

kelce sighs rubbing his head roughly.

“go get ‘em man. go on” rafe pats kelce’s back as he slightly pushes him towards the heat of the party. you quickly return behind the doorway as he passes.

you wait a moment before looking back to where they were talking to find rafe staring straight back at you. you pause, blinking. rafe’s head tilts, his expression not one of surprise, as if he had spotted you the moment your head poked out.

“you always eavesdrop?” rafe takes a swig from his beer. you step out, darting your gaze slightly.

“i was just getting some water…for my friend.” you reply as he begins to head over to you.

“yeah?” he hums nodding, as he stops a few step distances from you. “does that water trip include spying?”

“i didn’t catch much.” you reply.

“yeah, how much did you catch, deer?” he asks, his gaze darting over your face and down your body as if he’s trying to place you.

your brows furrow. “didn’t know you were one for…names like that.”

rafe scoffs “i meant ‘deer’ as in a deer caught in headlights, not the other ‘dear’.” he says tapping his beer bottle on your nose, gesturing to your round eyes.

your nose scrunches in response as you lean back, rubbing it. “i’m not ‘caught in headlights.’”

“no?” he replies. “or maybe you’re just starstruck.”

“by you?” you ask raising your brows. “i’m sorry, but you don’t have that ‘wonder’ to you, rafe.”

“a lot of girls think different.” he replies. “you’d look at me with ‘wonder’ if you’ve been seeing stars all night.”

you pause, staring at him, before his words register. “ew, rafe.”

“ouch.” he replies, completely unbothered, taking a swig.

“the majority of people who you make see ‘stars’ are those who have a ‘your-shaped-fist’ indent in their face.” you say edging back into the kitchen, preferring that this conversation ends sooner than later.

rafe scoffs, his face dropping, as he steps after you. “you’re not clever.”

“you seemed affected though.”

“re-size your brain, it ain’t that big”

you raise your hands in innocence, as you turn towards the sink, grabbing a clean empty glass. rafe leans up again the kitchen island, his legs planted in a slight spread.

you glance back at him, wondering why he’s still here.

he watches you.

“look, i’m sorry for eavesdropping. i only cared because…” you pause instinct telling you not to talk about your friend with the likes of rafe. but he clearly already knows.

“oh you got a reason? you’re not just simply…nosy?” rafe gives a fake-surprised look, as you stare blankly at him.

“you’re talking as if you know me.”

“i do know you.” he replies simply.

“no, um…you don’t.” you look confused.

“yeah…i do.”

“maybe we’ve had like…one proper conversation…” you say.

“nah, more than that.” why rafe is saying such simple sentences is a bother to you.

“alright, well…just because we’ve talked a couple times doesn’t mean you ‘know’ me.” you say filling the glass up with water looking back to the sink.

“you think I pay no attention to the people on this island?”

“yeah, sure, briefly. i do the same.” you reply shrugging. “you’re acting as though you know my favourite colour or something.”

“orange.”

you look to rafe, staring at him. “what?”

he crosses his arms, placing his beer to the side. “no, obviously i don’t know your favourite colour. i’m talking about behavioural observations, not stalker material, doll.”

“i thought you weren’t one for names like that.”

“i’m not.” he replies so simply again.

you look back to him seeing that he’s not going to explain any further. “okay…” you mutter moving past him with the glass of water.

“that for kelce’s fuck buddy?” rafe asks staying against the island.

you pause “I’m sorry?”

“what’s her name again?” rafe hums. “sophie?”

“scarlet.” you say with a frown. “and she was never kelce’s fuck buddy. she liked him.”

“yeah, most do like who they fuck.” rafe turns to you.

you narrow your gaze. “your buddy kelce may have thought of it like that, but she never did.”

“hearts break.” rafe states stepping closer “big deal.”

“yeah, it is a big deal. she’s hurt. and fair enough, cause if I got treated like that I’d react the same.”

“would you?” rafe asks. “have you?”

“gotten treated like that? luckily no. but it’s because she puts herself out there way more than me. she’s confident. actually gives it a go.”

“what a star.” rafe mocks.

“you’re all talk, rafe.” you say “because if a girl hurt you like that, I’d think you’d be worse.”

“really?” he looks down at you. “and what happened to not knowing each other that well?”

“you’re a loud bully. i’d have to be deaf not to easily hear about the things you’ve done.”

“you make it sound so dramatic.” rafe scoffs.

“you are rather dramatic.”

“look, doll,” rafe begins leaning down to level with you. “you can nurse sophie back all you want, comfort her, but you’re really not helping.”

“how so? do you have a better idea to help?” you ask raising your brows.

“yeah.” rafe says darting his gaze “enjoy the party. let them deal with it.”

“deal with it? you told kelce to go scout the girls here.” you say.

“yeah, and you actually think he listened to that? kelce is a bleeding heart. sensitive like a fucking kids movie.” rafe states. “no, he’s gone to talk to her. she’s crying in the bathroom right? i guarantee he’s there too.”

“and what makes you think she’d want to see him?”

rafe shrugs. “not our problem.”

“she’s my friend. of course it’s—“

but rafe cuts in, grabbing your shoulders. “not. our. problem.” he states slowly. “you think you rushing in there is going to help? they need to talk. kelce needs to talk.” rafe chuckles. “though if I were him, I wouldn’t bother, find someone new.”

“well thank god she didn’t sleep with you.” you mutter.

“jealous?”

“oh yes.” you nod sarcastically. “wouldn’t want her stealing you away.”

rafe’s lips quirk up. “yeah?”

“you look way too happy that i said that.” you eye him.

rafe grabs his beer off the kitchen island, bringing it between you both. “drink.”

you look at the bottle then back to his face. you shake your head. but rafe just nods, bringing the bottle to your lips. you lift your hand to protest but your glass of water spills a fraction making your hands pause, and giving him enough time to tilt the beer into your mouth.

you’re instinct is to swallow, before you step back, wiping your lips. “ew, rafe.”

“do you find everything disgusting or just when it involves me?” rafe asks taking a sip of his own from the beer bottle.

you meet his gaze staying silent, as he frowns.

“i’m not some troll.” he scoffs.

“could’ve fooled m—“

but rafe cuts in. “don’t finish that.”

you press your lips together, almost smiling, despite yourself.

“don’t smile either.” this time rafe looks disgusted. “you look demented…” he then pauses. “…or pretty, hard to say.”

you scoff “great save.”

“i try.” his lips quirk up again. he looks around a moment before his smile fades, finding a certain spot behind you.

you look behind you also seeing a girl who’s gaze is hardened on you both. you shift your gaze back to rafe but he’s far closer then before. you instinctively lean back.

“don’t be annoying now.” rafe says.

“i’m just moving back.” you reply, not seeing the problem.

“hm.” rafe hums, rolling his eyes. though that action doesn’t seem to be for you, but for the girl staring.

“katie, right?” you say in reference to the girl.

“ew.” rafe replies.

“ew?”

“i thought you were well aquatinted with that word?” he steps closer to you, glaring at the girl. “what a pest.” he mutters.

you look back to katie, who’s gaze hasn’t shaken. “you with her or something?”

“don’t ever say that again.” rafe says harshly. “little bitch doesn’t know when to quit.”

“it must be that ‘wonder’ you possess.” you say shrugging.

rafe looks to you, deadpanned. “funny.”

“i’m just saying. which is why i’m confused that you’re bothered.”

“when I kiss someone, i want to like it.” rafe states blandly. “i didn’t like it, so that’s why she’s not over here and instead over there.”

you stare at him. “okay. then have you talked with her about that?”

“uh huh.” rafe says. “in one ear and out the other.”

rafe then focuses fully on you, an idea almost displayed in his eyes. you look back at him confused, your eyes darting a little nervously at the intensity of his sudden attention.

“are you a good kisser?”

rafe’s question makes you pause, even more confused, your eyes widening a fraction. “what?”

“c’mere.” he murmurs, his finger curling into one of your jean loops at your hips.

“wow, wow—“ you rush out placing your hands on his chest as he tugs you closer.

“look convincing.” he hums tilting your chin up. his lips reach yours, stepping against you.

your eyes flutter shut at the closeness. his mouth moves against yours, finding your bottom lip as his tongue drags. the suddenness of it all makes your head spin.

rafe begins to smile against your mouth, either at katie’s reaction, or potentially yours. his tongue doesn’t let up as it slides between your lips, reaching your own. his hand grabs your glass placing it aside before he reaches for your hair sliding his fingers between the strands.

your lips feel wet now, swollen, as you clench at his shirt to breath. he lets up leaning back a fraction. you’re blinking, licking your own lips in shock. you knew they were now red.

“what…what was that?” you whisper. you pause then glance back to katie who’s gaze is like thunder but she finally looks away, heading outside to the busy pool. “oh...” you say. “to make her jealous? really?”

“no, to make her leave.” rafe replies, his tone almost distant, as his gaze is stuck on your mouth. he then leans down and kisses you again, stopping your tongue from dragging along your lip repeatedly. he was far too eager this time around.

and this time you step back.

rafe nearly follows your lips.

“rafe…she’s gone, you can stop now.” you mutter fixing your hair.

rafe then murmurs. “didn’t I say if i don’t like it leave?”

“which is rather rude when you’re actually kissing a girl.” you reply, a little flustered, as you reach for the glass.

rafe slides it away. “you kissed back.”

“i was surprised.” you say.

“glad you have that instinct then.” rafe muses. to which you turn away aiming to leave the kitchen.

but rafe steps after you. “what, going back to sophie?”

“scarlet.” you say. “and yes. I’ve left her for too long.”

rafe blocks your exist. “you don’t like me, i get that. but if you want to help your friend, let them talk. and in the mean time, enjoy yourself.”

“so you’re suggesting I go outside then? maybe to the pool.” you say, as he shakes his head.

“no idiot. here. with me.”

“now that’s the kind of name i thought you’d prefer saying.” you reply. “and…no…thank you.” you say trying to move past him.

“you’re a good kisser.”

“how sweet. move please” you say.

“my god, you really hate me, huh?” he chuckles

“i dont know you enough enough to hate you.” you say “but i do dislike you…so….close.”

“at least I’m not at the far end of the spectrum.” rafe hums, getting closer and fiddling with the end of your shirt.

“you’re close.” you say trying to move his hand away.

“but not there.”

“rafe, what do you want?” you sigh, looking up at him.

“i wanna see if you look more like a ‘deer’ when my hand is actually doing something.” he murmurs for your ears only.

“I’m sorry?” i stare at him, surprised as if he hadn’t just randomly kissed you before.

“relax.” rafe murmurs, pressing against you. “ease up, baby.”

all you manage to do is stare as your body registers the feel of his.

“yeah…” he hums, tugging at your hair slightly. “like that.”

“rafe…” you say, still confused by his actions.

“come on,” he chuckles lowly. “it’s a party. don’t tell me you don’t enjoy it?”

“i do, it’s just—“

but he cuts you off, his breath hitting your cheek. “then left your shirt up, lemme see…”

your stomach fills with butterflies, your eyes darting over his face.

“listen, I’m bored.” rafe says his lips now pressed to your ear, his hand squeezing your waist. “and…i liked the kiss. so I’m thinking I’ll like the rest of you.”

“you’re—you’re just overly horny.” you say.

“and who’s fault is that?”

“hey, you were the one who kissed me.” you say.

he smiled as his hand sunk under your shirt to your stomach.

“rafe—“

“shh.” he hushed, looking down at your shirt and his hand underneath. he lifted the material. you move to grab the shirt, embarrassed at the exposure.

“please, doll, just a quick look.” he says. “none of this has to mean a thing, i promise.” his hand grips your shirt.

and strangely, as he tugs you to a darker corner of the kitchen, his hands lifting your shirt to reveal your bra, and the hum that follows, makes you wonder if he really means that promise.

because as soon as his finger traces the cup before slipping inside, and brushing right over your nipple, the look in his eyes changes.

you can’t pinpoint what it changes to, but his following action, with the grip in your hair is clearly a new promise.

if he doesn’t like it he leaves.

but what happens when he does like it?

he grins nearly cooing at your concentrated face. “don’t think too hard.” he hums as he rubs your nipple and breast making your breathing hitch. “keep that head small for me, doll. you’re a very pretty deer when caught in headlights.”

“you just like me dumb.” you say, understanding his words.

his grin merely grows, as he pushes your bra cup aside completely holding and grabbing your breast. “well, when you’re smart you’d push me away.”

you nod, as he nods too, chuckling. he then forces you to arch against him, as he leans down, keeping eye contact.

he swirls his finger around your nipple. “should I turn this red too?”

the moment his tongue reaches your nipple, tingles run up your spine. and as he begins to suck, the tease in his voice leaves him as he murmurs a simple “fuck.”

your stomach churns, as he nods, almost answering himself with a name he claims to dislike. “yeah…baby, don’t move”

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

[moonlight-alexia]

daylight | k.c.c.

kyra cooney-cross x williamson!reader | 1.5k | you and kyra have been seeing each other for a little while but she doesn't know you're leah's sister and leah doesn't know about kyra

ˏˋ°•*⁀ my new daylight universe. i've been trying to get this one going for like six months now and finally had a breakthrough and got most of this series planned out! hope y'all enjoy it

‘You know, you kind of look like someone I know,’ Kyra was standing by the counter watching you put together a little flower arrangement for an order you had later in the day. 

Since Kyra joined Arsenal and moved to England she had come across your shop and couldn’t stop herself from frequenting quite often. Spending way too much just to have an excuse to keep coming back and seeing you. From the moment she stepped foot inside your shop she was enchanted by you. A pull inside her that she couldn’t ignore.

‘Oh really?’ You looked up at Kyra briefly, a small smile on your lips every time you laid your eyes on the girl in front of you. Kyra in the beginning was quite awkward and you could tell she didn’t really want or need to be buying as many flowers as she was, you could tell her excuses were just that. But you found it quite endearing and played into the little game.

After a few weeks of Kyra’s almost daily visits, you were well aware of her attraction towards you. You weren’t oblivious but you wanted to see if she would get the courage to actually ask you out or how many more weeks of pointless buying of flowers were you going to watch Kyra do. It ended up being quite a few.

‘Yeah, oddly familiar,’ You just chuckled and shook your head, focusing back on the flower arrangement in front of you, while Kyra kept trying to think of who she knew that you looked similar to.

‘How are you finding Arsenal? Settling in well?’ You changed the topic, you didn’t mind having Kyra’s eyes on you, watching you. But having her staring at you intently was a little unsettling, not like her normal gaze towards you.

You smiled, listening to Kyra talk about her work. Your sister would always bore you when you asked about her teammates, to the point you had to tell her you didn’t really care about each person’s skill set but how they were doing. By this point you’d met the majority of the team at Arsenal, you were friends with quite a few just by being Leah’s sister.

‘You should come to a match,’ Kyra whined and you smiled even more, reaching over to rest your hand on top of hers. You were honestly surprised she hadn’t seen you had a match yet, you liked supporting your sister and watching her play. Though since meeting Kyra you had stayed a bit more hidden at matches than you normally would, Leah telling you that some of the others were complaining that you hadn’t been around much after matches or accusing Leah of hiding you away from them.

It wasn’t completely intentional. Things with Kyra were going slow but steady and had been going quite well. You wanted her to know you for you and not as Leah’s younger sister. Also not wanting to ruin anything by telling her, though a part of you knew that the longer you waited the more complicated it might be. For now you were ignoring that part and just focusing on the girl in front of you.

Also your sister had a tendency to scare away people you were involved with. You didn’t want that to happen with Kyra, especially since Leah and Kyra were teammates. Which added another layer to this complex web you’d created. What if Kyra knew you were Leah’s sister, would she still want to see you? 

‘Hmm, maybe I could be convinced,’ You smirked, leaning over the counter slightly, your hand still on top of Kyra’s giving a little squeeze.

‘I think seeing me in my kit on the pitch would be convincing enough,’ Kyra smirked, she knew how you reacted when she had come straight from training to your apartment for dinner one night, still in her full training kit. Dinner was completely thrown to the side. Kyra imagining what you’d be like after you actually came to one of her matches. Though she obviously didn’t know you were Leah’s sister and that you’d already seen her play.

Leaning closer into you, Kyra closed the gap and connected your lips together. The kiss was anything but work friendly, luckily it was your own shop and you had closed and locked the door while you had your little lunch date with Kyra. You deepened the kiss, your hand cupping Kyra’s cheek while your other hand laced your fingers with hers, ‘Want to take this out the back?’ You asked, mumbling against her lips. 

Safe to say, Kyra definitely ‘convinced’ you and that following Sunday you were dressed in your Arsenal beanie and scarf, your sister's jersey underneath your puffer jacket. You weren’t supposed to be coming to this match, so Leah was definitely surprised to see you in the stands, but for Kyra you were able to move around your other commitments. Honestly, you just couldn’t resist Kyra’s pout and would do anything she asked you. 

You were in the same area as your mum, who was aware you were seeing Kyra and also kept it a secret from Leah having seen how protective Leah could be over you, but you weren’t so close to her and kept interactions as little as possible in case Kyra noticed. 

Both Kyra and Leah had seen you during warm ups, thankfully at different times so you gave them both a little wave and smile. Kyra’s eyes lingered over to you quite often, she already told you how cute you looked when you sent her a photo earlier, but seeing you in person was a different story. 

You and Kyra weren’t official in terms that you hadn’t talked about the label of being each others girlfriend or anything, but you both weren’t seeing anyone else, spent a lot of your time in each others apartments, going on dates all the time and the other week when someone had referred to you as friends she corrected them and called you her partner. You didn’t really know what it meant, you both danced around actually talking about your feelings but you were hers and she was yours.

‘You’re going to have to tell them both eventually,’ Your mum leaned over slightly. You always cursed how well your mum could read you, she could see how you were internally panicking on how today is going to turn out. At the end of the day you did this to yourself, and if worst happens you’d rather Kyra finding out you hadn’t told her you are Leah’s sister rather than Leah finding out you are seeing Kyra.

‘I know,’ You groaned slightly, running your hands over your face, ‘But everything’s just been so good lately. I don’t want to ruin it all,’ Your mum was always warning you that the longer you took the more complicated it would all get and she wasn’t wrong. The pit in your stomach wishing there was a way that you could back and admit everything from the beginning because it definitely never got easier or a more right time to admit what you weren’t telling.

‘They’ll be upset you didn’t say anything but you aren’t going to ruin anything with either of them,’ Your mum gave your shoulder a little reassuring squeeze, ‘Plus you know I’ll want to officially meet Kyra soon enough,’ You smiled and rolled your eyes at your mum. 

Even though you never played, you were still just as passionate as Leah was when it came to football. Your supportive passion could never be matched by anyone else, it was how you and Leah were so close despite the slight age gap between you and your older siblings, ‘I didn’t expect to see you here,’ Leah was the first to approach you after you did hide yourself away a little but Kyra was just being her goofy self annoying her fellow Aussies out on the pitch after the match.

‘Well surprise,’ Not trying to come up with an excuse as to why you suddenly were able to be at the match knowing Leah would see right through you, ‘Can’t I just randomly turn up to support my sister?’ Rolling your eyes you crossed your arms feigning annoyance towards your sister.

‘My bad. Forgot I wasn’t allowed to question what you do anymore,’ Leah dramatically held up her hands, the corner of her mouth turning up into a slight smile. You laughed out, when you were a teenager Leah was way too protective over you so you told her to get lost and stop pestering you about what you did and who you did it with, now she always brought it up when she was messing around with you. You were quite the dramatic teenager, Leah was glad you grew out of that phase, ‘Come on, everyone misses seeing you after a match. We just won, come celebrate with us,’ 

Leah practically dragged you down and over the barrier onto the pitch. No matter how much you tried protesting your older sister, she wasn’t taking no for an answer. It was good getting to see the girls again, you had avoided a few of them since you started seeing Kyra, and even when invited to their little outings some of them would have, you made up excuses to not go.

‘Have you met Kyra yet? I think you’d get on quite well,’ Even though Alessia was also a new signing you had obviously already met her with her and Leah playing for England together.

‘No she’s been avoiding me after matches. I haven’t had the chance to introduce them,’ Before you knew it Leah was dragging you over to where Kyra was pestering Steph.

‘Kyra,’ She smiled when she saw you but it was quickly replaced with confusion with you next to Leah, ‘Meet my sister,’

[ningvory]

caught!

parings: stepsis camgirl!karina x baby stepsis!reader

synopsis: it had been 6 months since you last seen your stepsis and she was finally back. you couldn’t stop your mind from thinking about your sister lewdly at dinner and went to watch your stepsis' porn videos until she caught you right in the act.

warnings: voyeurism, cumming untouched, face sitting, pussy eating, oral, teasing, degradation kink, praise kink, cum eating, mean!rina but reader doesn’t care! reader is pussywhipped lol, sissy is used but it’s just a nickname for sister, not proofread so ignore any mistakes

rina is in purple and readers is in pink <3

it had been six months since you last saw your stepsis, jimin. the one you had the biggest crush on for what felt like the longest, and she was finally back at home so your stepdad decided to have a family dinner just him, your sister, you, and your mom. he told you all to wear something nice even tho the dinner was at your house. nonetheless you still obeyed and went with a little pink dress, pared with some white heels. you decided to just go with light makup, not intended to go all out with your look since it is just the four of you.

“y/n!! hurry up!” your mother shouted, you were always the last to get ready, “coming!!” you shouted back after one last look at yourself in the mirror you headed downstairs.

you began walking down carefully until you made it all the way down. you were completely stunned by how your sister looked in her outfit. she had on a long lowcut skin-tight black dress that perfectly outlined her ass and tits. jimin smirked, not failing to notice the way you looked at her, she never did. ever since she heard you moan her name out, she’s been wearing revealing clothes that shows off her tits, knowing that you’ll shamelessly stare at ‘em.

you all sat down to eat discussing random things that you honestly couldn’t care less about. you’ve zoned out for a while, you hadn’t even realized how soaked your panties were from you fantasizing about your sisters tits.

“-y/n? are you even listening?” your mom asked causing you to break out of the trance of staring at your sisters tits. you shifted uncomfortably in your seat from the wetness as you quickly made up a little lie.

“uh- what? sorry, i’m not feeling well, i think ill head upstairs” you say and walked quickly upstairs before anyone could even stop you or question you.

once you reached your room you undressed yourself quickly, leaving yourself with nothing but your matching baby pink panties and bra. you had a little secret that no one else but you knew. it was the fact that your big sissy was a camgirl. in all honesty, it was a complete accident, you weren’t looking for any particular channel until a video caught your eye, it was titled, ‘subby slut let’s me use her face ♡’ which has been your favorite video of hers. it wasn’t even hard to find her. jimin, or her name on the site, katarinabluu had been one of the most watched camgirls on the site in which you participated in watching her, even going as far as to comment in her live streams numerous of times.

you had propped your phone up on your blanket so you can comfortably watch and got one of your pillows, it was difficult to buy toys so you worked with what you had which was your pillow and fingers.

her videos consisted of girls that either had a dick or a pussy. in the video, the girl had a dick. you watched how jimin would tease the girl by twisting her tits, causing the girl to let out a whimper. jimin gently layed her down on her bed and left wet kisses on her body until she got down to her crotch.

while watching you get so caught up in the video you don’t notice how you’ve began to hump the air as you rub your clit. small moans escaping your plump lips as you try your best to suppress them, aware of the fact the same girl you’re watching is right downstairs.

jimin kept kissing the girls inner thighs and she pulled down her boxers but nothing more. causing the girl to moan in anticipation.

“if you want my mouth and pussy on your dick, you’ll have to work for it and please me first, baby.” jimin spoke out with a smile, kissing the girls angry tip.

“anything for you, mommy.” the girl spoke out, jimin had a little mommy kink and it seemed that the girl knew that.

jimin rose up and began to crawl over the girl. “let mommy use you.” jimin said, and she was on the girls face.

you swore you knew all the dialogue in this video, you’ve watched it countless times. the girl then began to use her tongue to bring jimin to pleasure. her dick began to leak out precum as jimin let pornographic moans slip out of her mouth in the mixture of derogatory words like pathetic fall out her mouth, causing the girl to jerk her hips. the girl obviously worked out, demonstrating her muscles by lifting jimin up and down her tongue and swirling it around. the girl then dropped jimin back on her face and let jimin ride her face. nose bumping her clit, causing her to let out moans and mewls.

oh how you wished you were the girl in the video, eating your sisters cunny out and slurping up all her juices, you would gladly be her service slut and let her use you for her own pleasure. you wanted it bad.

“ngh! jimin~” you whined out as you reached your climax. using your pillow to drown out you moans. jimin came at the same time as you. you starred at your ceiling coming down from your high. you only then noticed someone in your room.

“why’d you cover your face, sissy? i wanted to see how cute your face would be when you cum~” jimin said in a faux disappointed tone.

“w-when did you come up here?” you question your stepsis that chuckles at your question.

“you’re so cute when your scared, sissy. mom and dad had went out to some ol’ fancy restaurant after i told them i would go check on you. come to find out my baby sissy is up here getting off to a video of mine. who would’ve known my lil’ sissy was a little perv?” jimin taunted yanking you to stand up, “you wouldn’t mind if we went live together, right?” she asked with darken eyes and a sly smirk.

this is how you ended up on her bed all dolled up in some clothes jimin pulled out deep in her closet. you’re wearing a fluffy babypink two piece, plush tits spilling out from how tight the outfit is on you. jimin had made you slip your wet panties back on. jimin sat down next to you, wearing black lacy lingerie. you went to go touch her but she immediately swatted your hand away and went to turn on the live stream, causing you to whine out and shift on the bed.

“don’t touch me you nasty perv. you’re so desperate you can’t even wait for me to turn on the live.” jimin teased using degrading words, making you moan out loud as she got back in position as the live began airing, countless of people who must have nothing better to do joining and greeting jimin.

“hey my loves~♡ i’m with a special guest today! this is my cute lil’ step sis, who would’ve known she’s a nasty lil’ perv like the rest of you guys?” jimin spoke out, making you to moan out from the degrading words she used. jimin then began to undress you, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. as usual she left wet kisses down your body until she got down to your pussy, making you mewl and whine out as she did nothing but kiss your inner thighs. she then pulled your panties back and let it forcefully slap back on your pussy, causing you to whine out. she never did this before, she always took off her guest’s underwear.

“my sissy is such a nasty perv you guys, i caught her watching one of my videos and masturbating.” jimin told her audience as you whine out. she was reading the comments until she came across one.

indigosseras: she’s is so whiny!! why don’t you sit on her face to shut her up? ♡

“should i shut her up, guys?” jimin turned to ask her chat with a smile as she took her panties off. you moaned at the thought of finally getting to taste your sisters cunny.

“yea? you like that idea, baby sis?” she asked you not failing to notice how excited you got at the thought of that. she turned to the chat again to see it filled with people agreeing to shutting you up, “they think you’re a whore, sis.” jimin chuckled.

without another word, she crawled over to you until she was hovering over your face in reverse cowgirl style, and sat down on you. you moaned out and your hips bucked in the air at the taste of jimin. jimin moaned out due to the sensation of you going to town on her pussy, moans and slurps were heard from you and you switched between licking, sucking, and tongue fucking her hole. she was addictive, the taste unimaginable. you wrapped your arms around jimin’s waist. you think you’d come from her taste alone.

“so eager, sissy. i’m not goin anywhere, you’re definitely the most desperate pussy eater i’ve had so far.” jimin giggled at how desperate you were, bucking your hips at the praise as you began to slurp up all of her juices, tongue seen visible by the viewers watching and your arms tightened around her waist.

“you’re such a perv you know? i’ve seen the way you’ve gawked at me and starred at my tits at dinner, and now you’ve gotten so nasty you decided to come up here and touch yourself to me knowing i was here?” jimin spat harshly, sitting down on your face even more, practically suffocating you. but you honestly couldn’t care, you’d be than happy to die eating her delicious cunt. you whimpered at her words as you continued to eat her out. she continued, “you’re so nasty, i know you knew that it was me you’ve been watching. spread your legs you perv, let them see how turned on you are by eating your sissy out.” you immediately spred your legs to reveal your completely soaked panties to the camera infront of your body.

jimin then began to grind on your face, chasing her high as she moaned and whined out as she finally released in your mouth. you felt like you were in bliss, she tasted so yummy on your tongue causing your eyes rolled back and you came untouched in your panties for all the viewers to see your even more ruined panties.

jimin crawled off of your face and laid on top of you, “did i say you can cum? you’re such a nasty perv, cumming untouched just from eating your sissy’s cunny.” jimin says as you swallow all of her cum, muttering a “sorry sissy you just tased so yummy” she chuckled as she slowly pulled your panties to the side to reveal your pussy covered in your cum. with a smile on her face watching as you jumped from the sheer difference of temperature on your pussy.

jimin then ripped off your panties with ease as she pulled you back up once she got off of you, the bottom half of your face completely soaked in her juices as she went in to kiss you, tasting herself on your tongue. she then pulled back and pulled out a 8 inch glitter strap on.

-

the live stream ended jimin on top of you riding your fake dick with your mouth stuffed of jimin’s warm milky tits as you were thrusting up into her.

you definitely became a viewer favorite due to how obedient you were for your sister <3

[undressrehearsal]

a bite of luxury

summary: you decide to look for a sugar mommy and stumble across this strange girl that seems to have more to hide

tags: sugarmommy!ellie, rich!ellie, vampire!ellie (yep, we got it all) alcohol, reader is poor lmao, reader uses she/her and is referred to as a girl once or twice, no smut in this one sorry gotta establish the world first

word count: ~8k

a/n: it's been so long since i posted a fic lol working full time and trying to finish my book is killing my schedule BUT i hope y'all like this this was my fiancee's idea and i'm running with it i got a LOT of plans for this one - plans i think y'all are gonna love

also the drawing in the cover is made by @nramv seriously go check out their work they're so talented!!

if you wanna be added to my tag list just lmk!

You hadn’t been searching for a sugar mommy. 

Truthfully, when your best friend had sent you the link, you had dismissed it immediately. She had been joking about it for months, talking about how much easier it would be if you just found a nice older woman to take care of you. You hadn’t even opened the link - you only rolled your eyes, replied with a middle finger emoji, and left it at that. 

And yet things kept piling up. The stack of bills on your kitchen counter was growing to a concerning height, a mountain of unanswered responsibilities that was getting harder to ignore. Your landlord kept calling you - you no longer answered, just watched the phone ring until it finally stopped and ignored the increasingly angrier voicemails. Your apartment was an absolute disaster; you could never be bothered to clean it, because by the time you got home from working both of your jobs, you only had enough energy to eat a bowl of leftovers and promptly pass out in bed. 

The link kept popping up in your mind, each bill in your mailbox a gentle reminder. You found yourself scrolling all the way up the text chain to find it again during sleepless nights. So many times you would only stare at it, your thumb hovering over the blue letters, before you closed the chat and threw your phone down. 

It was stupid, of course. But as time went on, the idea of letting yourself get buried alive under a mountain of debt - of getting evicted from your apartment and having to crash on your friend’s couch - seemed all the more stupid. 

So, late on a Thursday night, after you had had another anxiety attack staring down at your bank account, you went back up the text chain, and you clicked the link. 

www.seeking.com

It didn't take long for the messages to start coming in. You should have been flattered, honestly - you had at least a handful of people in your messages practically begging you for the honor of paying your fucking rent - but you really just felt like you were playing a part that you hadn't even read the script for. You had curated your profile with all the things that made you appear more cultured than you actually were: going to museums and pondering over Baroque art and reading poetry over a pretentious cup of coffee. Sure, these were all things you had done - you had photo proof, after all - but somehow you didn't recognize yourself. It felt like you were looking at pictures of a stranger living a life you wanted but couldn't reach. 

Most people were fine - charming, even. You got maybe one or two that felt like they would lure you into their sex dungeon to murder you, but that was expected with any dating site. You even went on a few dates, scrounging up the nicest dress you owned and getting pampered at a five-star restaurant or going for a ride on an older woman’s personal yacht. One person even took you for a helicopter ride, which was fun but she was a little too handsy on the first date to warrant a second. 

One name kept popping up though, a name that was becoming far too familiar in your notifications. 

ellie: meet me at 8 <3 

When she first messaged you, you had thought she was like you: somebody searching for a partner to pay their bills. Her pictures didn't exactly scream sugar mommy material. Her first picture was just a normal selfie taken outside; she wore a worn out leather jacket, her short hair tangled from the wind and green eyes squinting in the sunlight. She had stupid pictures of mushrooms and candid shots of her browsing a science museum, looking far too excited in front of a t-rex skeleton. Hell, in most of her pictures she looked like she was wearing clothes she had found at a thrift store.

You had thought she was like you, until she sent you a picture inside her fucking Rolls-Royce. 

“Fuck,” you audibly cursed into the quiet of your room. You had been talking for a few days, and she had begun to do that - sending you small selfies throughout the day. In the last one, she had taken a picture in front of the mirror at the gym, flicking off the camera, her lean muscles glistening with sweat. Before that, it had been a blurry picture of her dog, Riley - a huge German Shephard - splayed on her back at a park, leaves stuck in her fur. 

So, yeah, when you found out Ellie was not only rich, but rich enough to casually have a Royce, you were more than a little surprised. 

The selfie was cute, you couldn’t deny that. Her hair was wind-swept, catching in those long ass eyelashes. Ellie’s nose was scrunched up, freckles popping against her cheeks, holding up a peace sign. 

She was fucking adorable and you already knew it. But seeing her worn out leather jacket and messy hair against black and white leather seats that looked like they, alone, cost more than your entire apartment complex combined - it was a little jarring. 

And when she asked you out on a date soon after - after finding out she wasn’t Iike you but rather searching for someone like you - how could you say no? 

Ellie offered to pick you up - like a gentleman, she had said - but frankly, you weren’t quite convinced yet that she wasn’t some blood-thirsty pervert trying to lure you into her dungeon, so you politely declined. Instead, in your nicest dress and heels you hardly wore because they pinched your toes, you called an Uber. 

You had never been to this side of town. You had plugged in the address Ellie gave you - had double and triple checked it while your awkwardly chatty Uber driver tried asking you about what you do for a living - but the streets here were so unfamiliar you may as well have been in another city. You looked at the foreign buildings rising up around you, large windows giving you a glimpse of the life inside them. People were sitting outside in the chilly air, laughing over wine and dinner. Looking at them - with perfectly sculpted hair and clothes you would have to spend several entire paychecks on - you felt like a cheap impersonator dressed up in a costume. 

The Uber pulled up in front of a hotel, and your heart stopped. Surely, this wasn’t where Ellie had sent you - leading you to some fucking hotel room when you hadn’t even met yet? 

You turned to the driver, your home address at the edge of your tongue, when the car door opened. 

You had practically been leaning against the door to peer out the window, and nearly lost your balance when it was suddenly gone without warning. You looked up, ready to yell at whatever pretentious prick in Prada was trying to fuck with you - but your voice died in your throat. 

Ellie was shorter than you thought she'd be, honestly. In all her pictures, she had this commanding energy, like she would tower over you in person. 

Which, to be fair, she was. She had her arm propped on the doorframe above your head, leaning over so she could meet your eyes. Her hair was pushed back from her face, a few stray strands falling over her forehead, and she was looking at you with an intensity that hadn't quite translated through her pictures.

Ellie smiled - that adorably crooked smile you had seen in all her selfies - and said, “Hi.” 

And the only word you were able to get your mouth to form was, “Fuck.” 

Ellie blinked at you for a moment - long enough that you could feel the flush creeping up your neck and were ready to walk home if you had to - before she finally laughed. That wasn’t like what you had expected either; she had this deep, rough laugh, almost like she was trying to hold it in. 

She looked up at you through her lashes - you tried to ignore the way your heart inexplicably skipped - and said, “I’ll take that as a compliment?” Her voice tilted up at the end like it was a question. Ellie ducked her head down further, looking past you to meet the driver’s eyes, and pulled cash from her back pocket. With her most charming smile, she handed it to the driver and said, “Thanks for getting her here safe.” 

You didn’t see how much money she gave him, but after she took your hand and guided you out of the car, you turned back just in time to see his grin before he sped off. 

“Thanks for coming out.” You looked back at Ellie and found yourself speechless once again. (You, thankfully, were able to hold in the expletive this time.) The worn out jacket that had featured in just about all of her pictures was missing, replaced instead by a pristine, white satin shirt, the top few buttons undone to expose a sliver of collarbone and a gold chain beneath. Despite the chill in the air, she had a classy black jacket hanging from her arm as though it were an accessory. Ellie smiled and looked down, licking her lips before saying, “You’re quite the sight for sore eyes.”

You tried to smile at her but found that your eyes kept flitting behind her, looking at the looming monstrosity of the hotel. It was a nice hotel - the kind that had a huge fountain right in front of it and a chandelier in the lobby that sparkled through the window - but it was a hotel nonetheless. Despite the set in your jaw, traitorous tears stung the corners of your eyes; you wanted to kick yourself for actually thinking that Ellie might be different. 

Ellie followed your gaze over her shoulder, her smile dropping, before she quickly turned back to you with panic in her eyes. She stumbled over her words as though her tongue weren’t cooperating: “Shit, I’m sorry, this looks really bad doesn't it?” She grimaced and squeezed your hand she was still holding, scratching awkwardly at the back of her head with the other. “Fuck, this isn’t the first impression I wanted. I could promise it's not what it looks like, but maybe it'd be better if I just showed you?”

You honestly did think about telling her to fuck off. She was a complete fucking stranger that you only really knew from a dating app, and she was trying to lure you into a hotel in a part of town you were unfamiliar with - really, only an idiot would follow her. 

But she was looking at you with wide green eyes, the lights around you shining back like stars. While searching for the constellations, you found yourself saying, “Okay.” You blinked, pulled from a trance, and added, “But you should know, I do have a taser in my bag.” 

That pulled a shocked laugh from Ellie’s lips. She gently tugged on your hand, pulling you towards the door, and said, “Smart girl.” 

You knew that the hotel was outside of your price range because a perfectly groomed doorman opened the door for you, waving you inside with a gloved hand. You didn’t take much time to process the interior - the chandelier was just as grand as it had seemed from outside and elaborate columns rose to the ceiling - because Elllie was pulling you towards the elevators. It was like she wanted to ignore the fact that she had brought you to a hotel at all. You couldn’t decide if that was reassuring. 

In the empty elevator, you gently drew your hand back and leaned against the wall opposite her. You tried to ignore looking at the way her pinstripe slacks hugged the curves of her thighs, the fabric straining when she propped one booted foot on the wall behind her. 

��So,” you started in a desperate attempt to fill the awkward silence, “if you’re not leading me into a seedy hotel room on the first date, then what are we doing?” 

“Okay, one,” Ellie said, chuckling, “this is anything but a seedy hotel. And two, what kind of a date would it be if I ruined the surprise?” 

“And what if I don’t like surprises?” you countered. 

Ellie grinned. “I think you’ll like this one.” 

When the elevator doors opened, Ellie held her hand out to you as though it were a question. You hesitated for only a moment before placing your hand back in hers and letting her lead you out into open air. 

You nearly choked on a gasp. 

The bar itself was beautiful - fairy lights stretched above your head, twinkling like stars and casting the rooftop in a warm glow. Wooden tables and plush couches were spread artfully around the space, far enough apart to provide the patrons scattered about with some privacy. 

The bar was beautiful - but the view was fucking breathtaking. 

The city stretched out beyond the railings, open in a way you had never seen before. The skyline rose around you, each building shining like its own little galaxy amidst a sea of stars. The city lights blocked out the actual stars - a fact that never failed to piss you off - but you could see the crescent of the moon rising over the city, casting a quiet glow like a veil. 

You looked back at Ellie, and whatever your face held made her grin. She leaned in just enough so that her murmur was for your ears only: “So, was I right?” 

You blinked, momentarily distracted by her proximity - she smelled intoxicating, spicy and warm with a hint of tobacco beneath - before you finally said, “What?” 

Ellie snorted, breaking whatever spell she had put you under. “The surprise,” she said, leaning away enough for your head to clear. “Was I right?” 

You bit the inside of your cheek, pursing your lips as though you had to think about it. You couldn’t take your eyes away from the skyline stretched before you. 

You finally said, “That depends on how good the drinks are.” 

When Ellie laughed, her eyes crinkled in the corners, her nose scrunching. It was a full, rich sound, hanging in the air above your head like helium. It made something in your chest tighten, and you wanted nothing more than to hear it again. 

She squeezed your hand, a twinkle in her eye, and said, “The old-fashioned's to die for.” 

You pursed your lips again to hide your smile.

Ellie didn’t bother checking in with the host, simply shot her a smile and a wave as you walked by - you tried to bite back a giggle when you saw the host’s face turn red, her eyes tracking Ellie as she led you to a table right along the edge of the railing. She pulled the chair out for you - “Such a gentleman,” you laughed - before taking the seat opposite you.

As she waved over a waiter, you took a moment to lean your head over the railing. It was made entirely of glass, giving you a clear view of the city below. You could hear the distant sound of traffic, cars racing below you like shiny beetles, but it was like it was coming from a different world altogether. Everything seemed impossibly, wonderfully small from up here. 

You looked up at the sound of your name to find a groomed waiter wearing a fucking waistcoat standing before you. Ellie was looking at you with laughter in her eyes, her lips twitching. 

“Shit, sorry,” you said, immediately flinching at your own curse. You suddenly couldn’t remember the proper etiquette in a fancy bar, feeling out of place and underdressed even in your nicest outfit. You looked between Ellie and the waiter, wracking your brain for any kind of drink that wasn’t a trashy cocktail you’d find at a dive bar. 

Seeing you floundering, Ellie gave you a reassuring smile and said, “Do you like wine?” 

Relief washed over you as you nodded. Turning back to the waiter, Ellie ordered something that you couldn’t even hope to pronounce, charm lifting the corner of her mouth. She spoke to the waiter with the steady ease of familiarity, laughing at some inside joke; you briefly wondered just how often Ellie came to this bar. Surely, a nice place like this - at the very precipice of the world, looking down at the stars - wouldn’t be a regular stop on anyone’s schedule, but Ellie and the staff spoke like old friends. 

When the waiter left, tussling Ellie’s hair playfully, she turned back to you and the awkwardness of a first date finally set in. Sure, you had been texting Ellie every day for a week now, but you still hardly knew the girl. You knew she liked mushrooms and hiking. You knew that most of her clothes were from the thrift store even though she could afford any designer brand she wanted. You knew her favorite video game was Dishonored. But nothing you knew was enough for a relationship. 

But you weren't exactly looking for love, were you? 

After a moment of silence, Ellie cleared her throat, looking out over the city. “It's nice out here.” 

You snorted before you could stop yourself, covering your mouth; it didn't cover the laughter in your eyes. You said, “You're really talking to me about the weather?”

Ellie opened her mouth, an indignant sparkle to her eye, before shutting it again. It was like she was malfunctioning, opening and closing her mouth yet no sound came out. She furrowed her brows, looking at you as though you were something new and interesting, before finally chuckling, looking away. “Yeah, I-I guess I am.” When she looked back up at you, her eyes were surprisingly sheepish. “Not making a great first impression, am I?”

You couldn't stop the smile that crept up to your eyes. You leaned closer, propping your chin in your hand, and said, “I think you're doing okay so far.” 

Ellie laughed that wondrous laugh again, her nose scrunching up, and the cord in your shoulders loosened. 

“Okay,” she sighed, her eyes still alight with residual laughter. “Okay, damn. Tell me about yourself.” 

“Well now this just sounds like a job interview.” 

Ellie threw her hands up in mock frustration, trying to stifle her own grin. “Okay, fuck, knock me down again! You're obviously an expert, so show me how it's done.” 

She leaned back and crossed her arms, looking at you expectantly, and it was the perfect moment for your drinks to arrive. Ellie did, in fact, order an old-fashioned. The waiter set two wine glasses on the table, producing a bottle seemingly from thin air. He held it out, explaining to you in rehearsed prose the year, acidity, and complexity in words that passed straight through you. You nodded along even as you didn't process a single word he said. 

When he left, you turned back to Ellie and said, “How did you find this place?” 

Ellie took a sip of her drink. The lights of the city danced in the amber glass. “Just an old haunt of mine, I guess.” 

You took a sip of the wine, taking the distraction. It was warm on your tongue, tasting of wood and fruit and something spicy just underneath. The wine you usually drank was the stuff you could find in your nearest grocery store, often tasting concerningly like bug spray and bought with whatever tips you had managed to scrape together from work. It was usually shared with a friend on your kitchen floor, the walls and thoughts spinning over your head. 

You much preferred wine like this: The taste of warmth and fire on your tongue, the cool air brushing your shoulders at the edge of the sky, and a beautiful person sitting across from you.

When Ellie lowered her glass, you could see amber droplets of whiskey clinging to her lips before her tongue darted out to catch them. You tore your eyes away, but her smile said that she had caught you staring. A chill ran up your spine that you were sure was just from the cold. 

Seeing you shiver, Ellie wordless reached behind her where she had tossed her jacket over the back of her chair. Standing, she rounded the table only for a moment, only long enough to place the coat over your shoulders. Her hands lingered there for a second too long before she retreated, sliding back into her seat as though she had never moved. 

“So, why are you here?” she finally said. 

You pulled the jacket around your shoulders, distracted by the smell of it. The same smell that must be her perfume clung to it, spiced and warm like an open fire, but something else clung to the fabric too. It was strangely metallic, sharp and intoxicating, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. It was shockingly warm against your skin. 

“I’m here,” you said, raising a brow and ignoring her real question, “because you sent me this address and told me to meet you here at eight wearing my nicest dress.” 

The corner of Ellie’s lips quirked, a grin she was trying to hide. She clasped her hands, leaning across the table so you could smell the whiskey on her breath. “And you agreed to meet a stranger at a seedy hotel,” she murmured, mocking your remark from earlier. Her grin revealed itself when your cheeks flushed. “But why are you here - what are you seeking?” 

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head. “That’s kind of a dumb question, don’t you think? It’s pretty obvious why I’m on the app.” You cocked your head, leaning across the table, feeling a strange thrill when her eyes flashed. Your heart fluttered at the proximity, and you couldn’t remember when you had become so easily starstruck. “The real question, Ellie, is why are you?“ 

Ellie’s eyes darkened, and you weren’t sure if you just imagined her eyes flicking down to your lips. She looked back up at you through her lashes, her voice rough when she said, “That’s a third date kind of question.” 

Your eyebrows shot up. “What makes you so sure you’ll get a third date?” 

Ellie tilted her head, a slow smile pulling at her lips, and said, “Call it a hunch.” 

The waiter came to check on you, appearing at your shoulder like a ghost. You hastily retreated, leaning back in your chair as though the electricity in the air had shocked you, and took a sip of wine that was more than a little overzealous. You tried to choke it down as Ellie waved the waiter away with that heartstopping crooked smile. What happened to you? Since when were you so easily charmed by freckles, green eyes, and smart-ass comments? You couldn't remember the last time you had been so infatuated during a normal date, let alone one with these kinds of strings attached. 

“So you don't want to be in an interview,” Ellie said once the waiter was out of earshot. “I guess all my typical getting to know you conversations are out of the question.” 

“I didn't say that,” you countered, your throat still burning from your accidental wine waterboarding. “But come on - what girl are you going to impress by asking her questions like ‘Tell me about yourself,’ or ‘Why are you here?’ or ‘Why are you more qualified for this position?’”

“Okay, okay, goddamn,” she said, laughing. Grabbing the wine bottle, she looked at you for permission before pouring you another glass.

You brought the glass up to your lips, taking a sip to hide your smile. The flush in your cheeks was surely from the wine and nothing else. “What about you?” 

“What about me?” 

“I hardly know you.” On one hand, that felt entirely untrue - but especially after this recent discovery, you really knew nothing about this girl. “Tell me about you.” 

Ellie laughed that same rough laugh and your heart jumped. “Oh, so you're allowed to be the interviewer.” 

You nodded, twirling the glass between your fingers and looking at her expectantly. 

After a moment, Ellie rolled her eyes and ran a hand through her hair, but you could see the humor in her eyes. She downed the last of her old-fashioned and, like a good sport, said, “What do you want to know?”

Turns out, there was a lot to know - more than a simple dating app would tell you. Ellie had an older sister, Sarah, who lived in Dallas. Her dog was named after her childhood best friend. Her jacket wasn't thrifted after all, but had been her dad's. Speaking of which, she used to go hunting with him every season (“I haven't been in years, though,” she said, her eyes distant). On the weekends, she'd go to antique stores to look for art and trinkets to fill her house - her favorite antiques were from the 17th century. She hated horror movies and was a sucker for a good romance. 

In return, you caved and answered her pressing questions. You told her about your best friend - Ellie laughed when you told her that your friend had sent you the link to the app in the first place. You told her about your favorite show that you binge-watched whenever you felt like you were spiraling. You did not tell her about your apartment that was probably the size of her closet or the fact that you'd have to watch your budget after taking the Uber tonight, not to mention the extra $30 Uber to get home later. You did tell her about your family, and a strange, unexplained sadness crept into the creases around her mouth. You did tell her about your job, but didn't mention the second one you worked to afford groceries. You told her you were hoping for a real, human connection, yet didn't mention that you couldn’t imagine finding it in a fucking sugar mommy. 

All too soon, the wine bottle was empty and your chest was comfortingly warm. The lights strung across the bar danced above your head like fuzzy stars, and Ellie's smile was the brightest amongst them. Her glass was still empty, her wine glass dry, and yet her eyes told you she was intoxicated by something far stronger. 

“Sorry,” you said, giggling despite yourself. “I didn't mean to drink it all.” 

“Don't worry about it, darling,” she said, her voice silky smooth, reminding you of melted chocolate sliding down your throat. She tilted her glass, letting the remnants of melting ice clink against the side. “I wanted to make sure I could drive home okay.” 

The waiter arrived then, pulling the bill from his pocket and handing it to Ellie. You couldn't read the number upside down, not through the haze of the wine, but the number of digits made your stomach clench. Ellie dropped a black card into the folder and handed it back to the waiter. 

“How much do you want me to Venmo you?” you asked when she turned back to you. You clenched your hands in the hem of your dress, already calculating the extra shift you'd have to pick up to afford it. 

Ellie tilted her head, her brows furrowed. “Nothing,” she said, as though it were obvious. 

“That wasn't exactly a cheap bottle, Ellie,” you laughed. “Let me give you something.” 

Ellie hummed, propping her chin in her hand and looking at you with those same intense eyes; it sent a dangerous shiver down your spine. “I like when you say my name.”

You blinked at her. “Excuse me.” 

“I want to hear it again. That's how you can repay me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ellie, I-” 

“Okay, now we're even,” she interrupted, smiling that crooked grin that you had started to crave. The waiter returned with her card and Ellie produced cash from her pocket, handing it to the waiter directly. He thanked her profusely before making his exit, grinning. When Ellie looked at you again, you were still watching her expectantly, dumbfounded. She finally rolled her eyes. “Seriously, what kind of date would I be if I made you pay?”

“You're not making me, I'm offering.” 

“And I'm saying no.” Ellie stood, straightening her shirt; when she tugged at it, the collar fell a bit, exposing sharp collarbones beneath. 

Rounding the table, she offered a hand to you, pulling you gently to your feet. You pulled her jacket tighter around yourself, knowing you needed to give it back yet unwilling to part with it just yet. 

Taking your arm, Ellie leaned in close enough that your breath caught in your throat and said, “I know why I found you on Seeking, okay? So, if it's alright with you, let me spoil you. Even if that just means one bottle of wine.” 

You laughed, but it sounded breathy even to your own ringing ears. “One very expensive bottle of wine.”

Ellie shrugged, a sparkle in her eye. “It's a small price to pay for your company.”

You were silent in the elevator, but you held on to her arm as though afraid to let go. You couldn't figure out why, but something in you urgently wanted nothing more than to be close to her. You couldn't remember the last time you had felt such a pull from somebody. 

Back on the street, the lights of the city seemed so much brighter than they had before. Ellie released your arm, turning to face you, and there was a strange pinch between her brows that you couldn't translate. 

“Do you want me to call you an Uber, or do you want me to take you home?” she asked, and your brain short-circuited. When you could do nothing but stammer, tripping over your own tongue, Ellie laughed. There was no mockery behind it, only quiet, bright amusement. “I meant I can drive you to your apartment so you don't have to drunkenly sit in an awkward Uber that smells sickeningly sweet and the driver tries to make mind-numbing small talk.” 

Your sigh of relief came out more like a laugh. 

Ellie tilted her head and stepped closer to you, her hand reaching out to graze your fingers, and that sigh was sucked right back into your lungs. Being so close to her made your head spin. Her breath fanned against your cheeks, smelling of warm whiskey, when she said, “Unless you want to come to my place?”

It had the uncertain tilt of a question, and Ellie wouldn't quite meet your eyes. 

“We don't have to do anything,” she continued in a rush. She scratched anxiously at the back of her head, a nervous laugh slipping between her lips. “We can just sit and talk more. Or watch a movie - my dad had this huge collection. I'm not gonna - You know, I'm not going to do anything you don't want.” She finally interrupted herself with a groan, rubbing a hand over her eyes. “Fuck, sorry, I wanted it to sound more suave than this.” 

And you would be a fucking idiot to go home with this impossible stranger. You had been taught better - never get into a stranger's car, and for the love of God, never let them take you to a second location. You could let her take you back to your apartment at least - you were admittedly incredibly tipsy and didn't particularly want to endure another ride with an annoyingly talkative Uber driver. You could go home, back to your claustrophobic, quiet apartment, and maybe - maybe - text  Ellie about setting up a second date. 

You were not stupid enough to go home with somebody on the first date. 

Except clearly you were, because you took the hand that was still grazing your fingers and looked up at Ellie - the contours of her face were shockingly etched with insecurity. And your dumb mouth said, of its own volition, “Okay.”

You had expected something flashy, like what a wealthy person would own in a movie - like a penthouse overlooking the city with too-white walls and electric guitars hanging, unused, on the walls. Maybe she had walls completely made of windows so it felt like you were on a pedestal overlooking the world. 

You hadn't expected a house that was older than your great-grandparents. 

When Ellie pulled into the driveway, you were sure she was just pulling in someplace to turn around, that she had missed her turn somewhere. But she put her stupidly-expensive car into park and killed the engine, shooting you an awkward glance. 

“Sorry,” she said, chuckling. “I know it’s not much.” 

You could only look at her incredulously, speechless, before looking back up at the house before you. You couldn’t even call it a house really - estate would be more fitting. Maybe mansion. Fuck, her house was the size of your apartment complex. It towered over you, three stories of intricate woodwork, warm brown beams wrapping around the structure like an elaborate skeleton. With beautiful eaves winding around the roof and an entire turret reaching for the moon, it looked like something that had stepped right out of some 1800s southern gothic novel. 

Ellie cleared her throat, startling you from a trance. You looked back at her and, for some reason, couldn’t stop yourself from laughing.

”Shit, sorry,” you said, covering your mouth with your hand. “I just - I’ve just never seen anything like it.” When Ellie’s eyes clouded over with uncertainty, you added softly, “It’s beautiful. Besides, Ellie,” you added, laughing again, “‘not much’ doesn’t really suit you.” 

Ellie opened and closed her mouth and yet no words came out. She was looking at you again as though you were something interesting - something new and exciting. Nobody had ever looked at you that way before, and the way your heart clenched at the sight was more than a little dangerous. 

Ellie finally smiled, huffing out a laugh - your heart was pretty satisfied with how often you were able to make her laugh - and said, “Do you still want to come inside?” 

And, surprisingly, you said, “Yeah, I do.” 

As Ellie got out, rounding the car to open your door for you, you discreetly checked that the taser was still in your bag. Sure, you had agreed to go home with a practical stranger, but you couldn't be too careful. 

The porch steps creaked as she led you to the door - double doors (of course), with stained glass and twisting vines carved into the wood. When Ellie opened them, it felt like you were transported to a different time on an entirely different world. 

The grand staircase caught your eye first - how could it not? Warm wooden steps covered in a blood red runner, a white banister winding up, those same vines that seemed to be the house’s signature carved into it. You could see a large, stained-glass window at the landing before it curved to disappear to the second floor. Moonlight splintered through the window in broken relief. 

As though in a trance, you wandered further into the house, walking to the fireplace situated right beneath the stairs. The wood stacked neatly inside was cold, untouched by a flame. There was a large mirror set atop the mantle, its gold frame a work of art alone. In the reflection, you could see the flush to your cheeks, and tried to convince yourself it was only from the cold. You still wore Ellie’s jacket, and you pulled it tight around your shoulders, as though it were a shield. 

You watched Ellie’s reflection as she walked slowly towards you, a small smile gracing her lips. She came close enough to touch - close enough that you could feel her cool breath against the back of your neck - and yet she didn’t put a hand on you. 

“There’s a lot more to see than the foyer,” she murmured, the words brushing your skin. “If you still want.” 

And you couldn’t stop your own smile as you turned back to her, your heart skipping at her proximity. “Show me.” 

She took your hand, her fingers shockingly cold, and led you into what must have been her living room - sitting room? Despite the fact that the house felt more like a museum - like you would get scolded for touching anything - the room was surprisingly cozy. A large, plush sectional was situated in front of another fireplace- this one also unblemished. Blankets and quilts were thrown over the couch and the accompanying chairs, leaving this time capsule looking strangely welcoming. 

“Okay, I have to ask,” you said, turning back to Ellie. She was watching you carefully, gauging your reaction with soft eyes, and you lost your train of thought. You opened your mouth but no sound came out; you weren’t sure if that was more or less embarrassing than the several curses you had said earlier in the night. 

Ellie hummed, raising her hand as though she wanted to touch you. She stopped only inches away from your cheek and dropped her hand, saying, “I’m an open book.” 

You had to turn away to collect your thoughts, wandering across the room if just to catch your breath. The opposite wall was lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. You ran your fingers along the spines of vintage classics, an array of science books, and comics, enjoying the irony of seeing Savage Starlight in the middle of all this history. You picked up a copy to keep your hands busy. 

“How, um,” you started, stumbling over your words, “how did you end up here?” 

Ellie hummed again, and you heard her footsteps following you. “Here as in this town, this country, this world? You gotta be a little more specific.” 

You sighed, giving in and turning to look at her. She kept a careful distance, standing a few feet away from you with her hands in her pockets. “You know what I mean, smartass.”

Ellie chuckled, but her eyes had grown distant, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. She took a few more steps closer to you, looking at the comic book in your hands. On the app, she hadn’t struck you as the type to get easily bashful, and yet she had proven you wrong a few times already. 

“My family lived here,” she finally said, quiet as a secret. You watched her carefully, jumping at the opportunity to stare at her without those intense eyes looking back at you. Her brow furrowed and she pressed her lips together as though she was in pain, her green eyes shining. “It was just… passed down, I guess? It’s kind of always been here ever since I can remember. I’m not entirely sure when it became mine.” 

You tucked the comic book back into its spot between The Iliad and The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. You said absently, “How old is this place anyway?”

”It was built in 1816,” she said automatically, as though it were memorized. 

“It’s an awfully big house for just one person.” You looked up at her through your lashes as she stepped closer - close enough that you could smell that same metallic warmth that seemed to cling to her. 

“It is,” Ellie murmured, smiling. She reached out again, and this time she allowed herself to touch you. Her cold fingers brushed against your cheek before she gently cupped your jaw, tilting your head so you’d look at her properly. Her green eyes were downright intimidating. “But I keep good company.” 

You rolled your eyes, yet you couldn’t convince yourself to look away. “Is that what you say to all the girls?” 

Ellie hummed, bracing her other hand on the bookshelf behind your head, and murmured, “No, I don’t.” She pressed in closer, her gaze dropping to your mouth, and you felt like your heart was going to leap from your throat. Ellie huffed out a laugh as though she could hear it pounding against your chest. When her thumb brushed your bottom lip, your lips parted on instinct. She didn’t look away, transfixed on the point where her skin touched your mouth, and you almost didn’t hear her when she said, “Can I?” 

And you had never been the kind of person to kiss on the first date, but she was looking at you with eyes hooded with want, her breath fanning against your cheeks. When she licked her lips, you couldn’t stop your eyes from following the motion. Her lips glistened, parted and plump, looking so impossibly soft. Somehow, past your haze, you heard yourself say, “Yes.” 

Ellie took her time in kissing you. She pressed you back gently, your shoulders pressing into the bookshelf behind you, and touched her nose to yours. She took a deep breath, breathing you in. Her hand was soft against your cheek, tilting your jaw up, and you hardly had to move to finally kiss her. 

Ellie tasted just like she smelled - spicy and metallic, the old-fashioned still hanging on her tongue. Despite the cold of her hand on your cheek, her mouth was impossibly warm, her breath slipping between your lips; it was intoxicating in a way that the wine couldn’t compare to. Her mouth moved against yours, soft and slow as a dance. 

Your hands reached out as though of their own accord, circling her waist and gripping at the slippery silk of her shirt. She pressed in close, crowding you against the bookshelf; you could feel her chest pressing against you, her hips on yours, the line of her body against yours making your head spin. And when Ellie’s tongue pressed against your lips, a gentle request for access, you felt like you’d faint altogether. 

Her tongue slipped between your teeth and you couldn’t stop the breathy sound it pulled from your throat. You could feel that infuriating smile against your lips and suddenly wanted nothing more than to wipe it away. You balled her ridiculously expensive shirt in your hands and pulled her impossibly closer, nipping at her bottom lip, and you wanted to swallow her gasp. 

Ellie pulled away, chuckling, but she didn’t go far. She pressed a kiss to your cheek, her lips trailing down to your jaw, and she could probably feel your pulse jump beneath her tongue. You could hear the smile in her voice when she said, “Do you do this often?” 

Her teeth grazed the sensitive spot below your ear, and it took you a few moments before you could respond. “Do what?” Despite yourself - despite the way your fingers gripped her shirt, your head swimming and an unexplainable want burning in your veins - you couldn’t help but laugh. “Go on a date with somebody I met on an app for sugar babies and go back to their ridiculously old mansion on the first date and-“ 

You cut yourself off. You weren’t sure exactly what was happening, and you were afraid that voicing it would break whatever spell you were under - whatever spell made this impossible woman’s touch feel like lightning. 

But Ellie only laughed, biting at the spot where your neck met your shoulder. “Yeah, that.” 

You shivered against her touch. “No, I’ve never really done this.” 

“Guess I’m just lucky.” 

Ellie kissed you again, only briefly, before she finally pulled away. She was grinning, her eyes sparkling with those same constellations; her face wasn’t even flushed, making you feel embarrassed about your burning cheeks. You were panting, intoxicated from the night and wine and Ellie. Her absence felt like an ache, your body craving the feeling of her lips, her teeth, her hands. You were close to tugging her back in, your hands still gripping her shirt, but she gently untangled herself from you with a laugh. 

“I want to keep going.” She paused, and then emphasized, “I really want to keep going. But you drank an entire bottle of wine, and I’d be kind of a shitty host if I didn’t offer you something to drink at least. Or are you hungry?” 

You were hungry, but it was the kind of hunger that food wouldn’t satiate. Still, you let your hands drop back to your sides, feeling your senses return to you now that they weren’t so tuned into Ellie - how she smelled, tasted, felt. When you laughed, it sounded breathy even to your own ears. “Some water would be nice.” 

“I can do that,” she said with a smile. “Stay here.” She kissed you again, lingering for a few moments longer than needed, before she turned and disappeared down the hall, leaving you alone in this ridiculously old mansion. 

With nothing else to keep yourself entertained, you did a slow lap around the room, eyeing the ironic blend of elegant antiques and silly trinkets that were so obviously Ellie. A cracked ivory trinket box sat on a shelf, intricate flowers engraved into the lid, set right next to a small figurine of an astronaut. Beautiful paintings lined the walls, signatures dating back to 1830 in elaborate script at the bottom, but there were also a few posters littered here and there - bands and video games. 

You walked over to the mantle, your fingers grazing over the marble top. The logs inside were untouched, and you briefly wondered if she’d light a fire soon to chase out the chill of autumn. A small jar filled with guitar picks sat at the corner, and you wondered if she really did have an electric guitar collection hidden around here somewhere. Your foot kicked an empty dog bowl, and yet Riley was nowhere to be found. Maybe Ellie took her to daycare when she knew she’d bring a girl home. You nearly laughed at the idea. 

Atop the mantle, hidden behind pictures of what must have been friends or family - hiking or traveling or laughing in somebody’s backyard - there was another picture frame. It must have fallen, face down so that the picture inside was covered. You reached out, careful to not disturb any of the other frames, and picked it up. You were just going to fix it, set it up next to the others, but something in the image caught your eye. You plucked it from its home, bringing it closer, holding it up to the light to get a better look. For a long time, you couldn’t figure out what you were looking at. Your heart hammered against your chest, your ears ringing, as though your body had figured it out before your brain did. 

It was an old photograph, grainy and sepia, faded and frayed around the edges with age. It was the house, looking just like it did today - the huge windows shining in the sunlight, the intricate eaves and wrap-around porch perfectly polished and new. A family stood on the lawn in front of the house, looking awkward and stiff. Back then, cameras took several minutes to actually capture a photo, so people tended to look a little awkward from trying to hold the same expression for so long. But that’s not what had caught your eye. 

It was a small family - a weary looking dad and his two daughters, looking just a few years younger than you. 

She looked a little different. Her hair was longer, falling in waves around her shoulders. She was definitely a few years younger, and she wore a sweet, full-length gown instead of a worn leather jacket. 

You checked the date in the bottom corner at least five times, but there was no mistaking it. The person in the photo was undeniably Ellie, standing in front of this house in 1816. 

tag list: @macaroni676 @ellstronaut @elliewilliamsmiller0 @elliescoolerwife @letsreadsomesins-shallwe @peejayurple @liliflowers-blog @filtered-sunlight @hobbybound

[vifilms]

†⠀warnings y disclaimers — eighteen+, sexual content (alluding), jock!abby, soft!abby, simp!abby, stubborn!reader, abby being a tease. part one.

—

jock!abby patience was wearing incredibly thin. she was always having to share you with ellie and she despised the situation just like the fucking brat — the one who demanded all your time and attention. okay, so maybe she was being a bit needy, and really the two of you hadn’t really said you were exclusive, but abby wasn’t with anyone else and didn’t want to be. she was stupidly sweet on you, and the sex was amazing. you were worth it for her to fight a little more.

jock!abby caved when it’s been an entire month and all she got were longing texts from you. saying you missed her but with classes, trying to keep your head above water, and ellie, you just didn’t simply have the time right now. although, abby blushed when you confessed she was important to you and you would see her soon. it’s the only time she’s thankful the interaction is filtered through a screen.

jock!abby called you the night before the game, she was supposed to be sleeping, or at least trying to, but with you on the forefront of her mind it seemed nearly impossible. she was embarrassed, your phone ringing four times, no answer. but on the fifth, you finally picked up. she thought you were ignoring her, avoiding her at the very least. but then you’re honeyed voice drips all over her heart and now it truly feels like the first day of spring.

“You should be sleeping, Abs. You have such an early day tomorrow and you need rest.” “I know, I just-” Abby took a moment to breathe, trying to calm herself enough to not reveal herself as a totally pathetic loser. “I’m so tense, baby. How am I supposed to sleep?” “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me what has you so…tense.” You question suggestively, your voice lowering an octave. “Well, I haven’t see you in a month, so there’s that.” Abby hints, and you pick up on it immediately. “There’s a line of girls on this campus who would love to ease the tension for you. Pick one, I’m sure you wouldn’t have to go far.” Your tone is bitter, thinking of her with someone else, but you don’t have much room to feel jealousy. Not when Ellie would feel like you stabbed her in the back if she found out about your late night rendezvous with Abby. “Stop it.” Abby barked. “What?” “You’re honestly going to make me say it? When you’re the one who’s been avoiding me? Really going to make me beg for it, baby?” You snap. “I haven’t been avoiding you.” It’s useless now. Abby has you pinned. Honestly, you’re not even upset about it. “You don’t have to lie me. I already know what you want.” “Fine, I’ll bite. What do I want, Abby?” “You want to not like me, right? It’d be easier wouldn’t it? I bet it would. But you like me, sure as hell love fucking me, and that can’t sit well. Not when I’m the enemy, not when I’m so evil and cruel.” You were silent, only heavy breathing could be heard on the phone. “Just tell me to fuck off, tell me I’m mean, tell me I’m the worst and I’ll hang up and you won’t have to talk to me again.” Abby continues, as if she needs to say anymore. “Be a good girl for Ellie, baby. It’s why you’ve deprived me of your pussy, huh? Tell me you don’t want to feel my lips, my tongue, my fingers. Be a good fucking girl and say it.” You were biting your lip, a moan threatening to escape. Pathetic. “I-I don’t, this isn’t…” You choke up, and god you can practically see her grinning. “You don’t want me?” Abby teased. “It’s….god, please Abs.” “You fall asleep in my arms, but then ditch before I can wake up. You don’t wanna see me but text me for weeks how much you miss me. You’re going to have to do better than that. Tell me what you want.” You’re trying to get something out, anything but you can’t seem to form a thought when Abby keeps going on and on, your cunt clenching every time you hear her voice. You’re forgetting why you’ve kept your distance in the first place. “I wanna make you feel good, help with the tension. Baby, please let me.” She finally breaks you, but the both you are smiling and Abby’s light laughter edges into the small cracks of your heart. “Mmmm, baby. Tell me how good it feels to be fucking yourself with your fingers to the sound of my voice. Don't even bother lying this time.”

jock!abby thinks about your breathy moans, the wet sounds of your cunt bouncing through the mic and into her ears. she loves hearing you moan her name out, you’re so desperate for her. so willing to be whatever she wants you too even if it will cost you. abby feels bad, but then she sees you and suddenly she doesn’t care what kind of karma comes her way. if she gets to have you, isn’t it worth the cost?

jock!abby isn’t surprised when you’re knocking on her door three days later. it’s clear what you want or at least she thinks so. it’s almost midnight and abby thought you just want to fuck. she’d be more than happy to oblige. she’d pretty much do anything. you’re as sweet as they get, more than she deserves, but she takes it anyways.

jock!abby catches you with her unwavering strength, your legs wrapped around her waist and your arms locked around neck. you’re whispering how bad you need her, how much you’ve missed her, how shitty your week has been, and the only thing getting you through was telling her all about it. so, she lets you. it’s foolish maybe, but abby can only think with her heart right now, and it really wants to be with you.

[persevereforahappyending]

A Legacies Secret |11|

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: Language

Word Count: 3.2k+

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

Tara stared mindlessly at the TV while some old movie played, she tried flipping through the channels, but the hospital was already limited and there seemed to be nothing on. Tara kept checking her phone, waiting for a text that said you were on the way. It had been twenty minutes since you had last texted her, but she wasn’t worried yet, she figured you were probably just getting out of the shower, and she’d receive a text any minute. 

She quickly grabbed her phone a minute later when she felt it vibrate. She frowned when she saw it wasn’t you calling but her sister. She knew she’d have to talk to Sam at some point, she had definitely cooled off since their last conversation. She wasn’t even mad anymore, she didn’t care who Sam’s birth father was, she couldn’t believe Sam never said anything though, Tara would have been there for her. She was honestly just happy Sam was still in town, as angry as you were, you said Sam got Dewey involved and they were both at Mindy’s, Sam hadn’t bailed yet when she easily could have.

“Hello?” Tara answered the phone. 

“Look, I know you don’t want to speak to me right now,” Sam said softly. 

“It’s fine, I’m just-” 

“Tara something happened,” Sam cut her off. Tara sat up in the bed, ignoring the pain in her side. Sam hadn’t said anything yet and she could already feel her heart trying to beat out of her chest. “Y/N was attacked.” 

Tara shook her head, tears already filling her eyes. “No,” she whispered. It wasn’t possible, she had just talked to you, you were at your apartment, you had just met up with everyone else, there was no way you could have been attacked. 

“They’re alive.” Tara let out a relieved breath which sounded more like a sob. Alive was good, alive was all that mattered, she didn’t know how extensive your injuries were though. Tara had survived and she had been stabbed several times and had her leg broken, she had no idea what condition you were in. “We’re on the way to the hospital now.” Tara could only nod, she couldn’t find the words to speak. “I’ll be right there.” 

Tara wasn’t sure how long it was after she got off the phone with Sam before she saw her sister walking through the door. She knew it had probably only been a few minutes, but it felt like hours. When Sam finally walked through the door Tara shot up, wincing at the quick movement. 

“Hey, take it easy,” Sam said, rushing to her bedside. 

“Are they okay?” Tara asked. “What happened?” Tara searched Sam’s face for any signs of something bad. 

“They’re okay,” Sam rested a gentle hand on Tara’s shoulder, easing her back down onto the pillow. “They’re getting stitched up right now.” Tears quickly filled Tara’s eyes again. “It was just a cut on their arm.” Tara let out a shaky breath, a cut was probably the best injury one could get from Ghostface. “And they have a concussion, they were already out before we arrived.” 

“I-I have to go,” Tara looked around, trying to figure out how she’d make this work. “I have to see them,” her eyes landed on the wheelchair, widening slightly. She didn’t like the wheelchair, but it would have to do. 

“No, you’re staying here.” Sam put her hand on Tara’s shoulder, keeping her from trying to push off the bed. 

Tara instantly flicked a glare at her sister. “I need to be there for them.” 

“They’re okay,” Sam tried to say as calmly as possible. “Right now, they’re unconscious, there’s nothing you can do anyway.” 

“I have to be there when they wake up!” Tara snapped, her voice cracking. “They were right there when I first woke up,” she looked up at her sister through tear filled eyes. “They were the first person I saw, and the relief…” she let out a breath, when her eye landed on you, she knew no one would ever hurt her again. “Please,” she begged. “I don’t want them to be alone.” 

“How about I go?” Sam suggested softly. Tara couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at her sister, she never expected Sam to sit at your bedside and wait for you to wake up. “I’m serious, I can go and when they wake up, I’ll come tell you. Besides, Gale and Dewey should be there, they’re the ones I rode with.” 

Tara let out a chuckle, she smiled until she realized Sam was serious. “Yeah, because the person who doesn’t like her,” she gestured to Sam. “The guy who has arrested her more than once,” she gestured to the door, “and some random stranger is so much better to wake up to than your girlfriend.” 

Sam frowned at Tara’s words. She wasn’t wrong, if she had woken up with anyone at her bedside besides you, she wouldn’t have been happy. She didn’t think any of her friends would have given her the instant comfort you did. The only person she felt completely safe next to besides you, was Sam. 

“You can barely move,” Sam said gently. “Please, you know Y/N wouldn’t want you to, knowing it would cause you more discomfort.” 

Tara looked down at her blanket, silently pouting. If it weren’t for the fact that she was stabbed through the hand and any sort of movement caused her excruciating pain, she would have crossed her arms. “Fine,” she mumbled. 

Sam let out a relieved sigh and finally took her hand off Tara’s shoulder, seeming to assume she wouldn’t try leaving the bed again. “Do you need anything before I go down there?” 

Tara shook her head. “Thank you, for doing this.” 

Sam just smiled at her words then leaned forward, placing a kiss on the top of Tara’s head before making her way out of the room. Tara sighed, dropping her head back against the pillow, she didn’t know what she was supposed to do until you woke up, it’s not like her mind could focus on anything but your safety now. She decided to grab her phone and send a quick text to Liv to tell her what happened. Liv might have been more Tara’s friend than yours, but she still cared about you, and she would want to know what happened. It was only a few minutes later that Tara received a text from Liv that she was on her way. 

Tara went back to watching whatever was on the TV. She tried to actually focus on the movie and not on worrying about you. You had been attacked, but you were alive, you were in the same building as her, you were safe, she just hadn’t seen you yet. As much as she tried to focus on the movie, she couldn’t help but look at her phone every two minutes, waiting to see if there was an update from Sam on you. 

Tara’s door opened after what felt like hours later. She knew not that much time could have passed considering the same movie was playing but a second had never felt longer in her life. She sat up straighter when she saw her friends all pile into the room. 

“Hey,” Tara said. She couldn’t help but scrunch her eyebrows as she saw them shuffling into the room. Chad, Mindy, and Wes kept their eyes on the floor. Amber and Liv seemed to be the only ones willing to look Tara in the eye. 

The group, specifically Amber and Mindy, disagreed with Liv a lot. Even if they all got along, most group activities involved an argument between Liv and one, if not both, of them. Liv was outwardly glaring at Mindy though, more than Tara had ever seen. 

“Everything okay?” Tara asked slowly, glancing from Liv to Mindy. 

“No,” Liv snapped. “We just got back from visiting Y/N.” 

“Wha-what happened? Are they okay?” Tara sat up in her bed. 

“They’re fine,” Amber said, waving her hand. 

“Fine isn’t exactly the word I’d use to describe them right now,” Liv shot a glare at Amber. 

Tara furrowed her brow. “What happened?” 

“Let’s just say it seems Sam isn’t the only one with family secrets,” Amber smirked. 

“Can someone just tell me what the fuck happened?” Tara snapped. You clearly weren’t okay, something happened after her friends visited you and Liv seemed to be the only one that cared. 

Everyone flicked a scared glance at Tara, all of them clearly too afraid to answer her. Tara rolled her eyes and was about to snap at them again when the door opened again. She snapped her eyes to the door, her gaze softening when she saw it was Sam. 

“What’s going on?” Sam asked slowly. 

“I don’t know,” Tara snapped. “They were just about to tell me what happened with Y/N.” Sam’s eyes shot to the floor, making Tara furrow her brow again, her sister also knew what happened. 

“Hey!” Richie said, popping into the room as well. “I got you some fries,” he held out a small order of fries to Sam. Sam rolled her eyes at the fries but offered Richie a soft smile. “What-What did I miss?” he glanced around the room, seeming to just realize he walked into something. 

“Y/N was attacked,” Tara said. 

“Holy shit,” Richie whispered. 

“And something happened but no one will tell me what the fuck is going on with my girlfriend,” she glanced at each person in the room. 

“She’s awake,” Sam said. “That’s the first thing.” Her voice was soft, as if she were trying to keep Tara from overreacting to whatever else she had to say. “While Judy was asking questions about what happened Ghostface called.” Tara sucked in a breath; her heart began beating faster. “They-they...” Sam blinked a few times to gather her thoughts. Tara wondered what possibly could have been said over this phone call. “Ghostface said something,” she whispered. “And then Gale Weathers,” Sam shook her head, making Tara furrowed her brow. “Y/N is Gale and Dewey’s daughter.” 

Tara’s eyes widened. “What?” she shook her head; she couldn’t have heard right. 

You didn’t know your parents, your parents threw you away, literally left you outside the hospital so there was no trace of them. Learning this, learning Dewey, a guy who arrested you, and Gale, a talk show host, learning they were your parents would be worse than Ghostface actually attacking you. Dewey and Gale lived in town, they had been married, you could have had a family, a home, but they abandoned you instead. 

“And then Mindy accused them of being Ghostface,” Liv said. “Again.” 

Tara snapped a furious glare to Mindy. “What?” she asked, venom clearly in her tone. 

“It just makes sense,” Mindy said calmly, raising her hand as if that would quench Tara’s anger. “A child of two legacy characters, abandoned by them, betrayed by them, then learning all this,” she gestured around. “Taking on the mantle of the killer than defined them, that still defines all of them, that ruined them, what better revenge?” 

Tara looked at Mindy with wide eyes, shaking her head as she tried to contain her anger. “You got to be fucking kidding me,” Tara said. “That’s fucking bullshit! She didn’t know who her parents were!” she gestured widely with her good hand. 

“Well, Ghostface learned,” Amber said, giving a little shrug. “It makes more sense for the child to learn who their parents are than it does some random stranger.” 

Tara shook her head. “No! Y/N isn’t the killer!” 

“You can’t know that T,” Mindy sighed. “You were here when they were attacked,” she put attacked in quotation marks. “No one was with them.” 

“So, all of you were together?” All her friends kept their mouths shut. Tara let out a humorless chuckle. “Any of you could be the killer,” she cast her eyes over each of them. “All I know is Y/N isn’t the killer, they’re the only one I can say that for certain about.” Tara didn’t miss the way Sam crossed her arms over her chest, she almost felt bad, it sounded like she might believe Sam was capable of this, but she didn’t, she didn’t think you or Sam could ever do something like this, she knew neither of you could ever hurt her. “I think you guys can show yourselves out.” 

“Come on Tara-” 

“Get the fuck out!” 

“Come on,” Chad whispered just as Mindy opened her mouth again. He gently put his hand on her arm and led her out the door. Wes quietly followed behind them, keeping his eyes on the floor. 

“You too,” Tara said, looking at Amber. Amber opened her mouth to probably defend herself but quickly closed it, rolling her eyes as she stomped out of the room. 

Liv stepped forward, resting her hand on Tara’s shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. “She said she wanted to be alone,” Liv whispered. “But...” 

Tara nodded, giving her a kind smile. Even when you wanted to be alone that never applied to Tara, she was the exception, always. “Thank you,” Tara whispered. 

Liv followed the others out of the room leaving Tara alone with Sam and Richie. She wasn’t alone with them for long before Richie seemed to take the hint and made himself scarce as well. 

Tara narrowed her eyes as Sam kept her eyes pointed at the floor, refusing to look at her. “You don’t agree with them, do you?” Tara scoffed. She kicked Sam out of the room before she was not afraid to do it again. 

“I don’t think she’s the killer,” Sam mumbled. “I was standing right there when Gale revealed the truth,” Sam looked up, meeting Tara’s eyes finally. “You’d have to be a fucking spectacular actor to fake that kind of pain.” Tara’s heart broke at hearing that, she knew you better than anyone, she still could only imagine what you were going through. “However,” Tara furrowed her brow, she had a feeling she wasn’t going to like Sam’s next words. “I want you to stay away from Y/N.” 

“No,” Tara said instantly, shaking her head. “No. She needs me right now.” 

“Tara-” 

“No!” 

“She is the daughter of Dewey and Gale!” Tara glared up at Sam. “Mindy might be wrong about her being the killer, but Y/N is the daughter of two of the only survivors of the original attacks. None of this is a coincidence,” Sam shook her head. “Someone let her live because it’s all just a game to them. You’re only going to be in danger with her around.” 

Tara clenched her jaw, shaking her head, she couldn’t believe Sam was actually saying this. It wasn’t true, if anything Tara was safer with you around, you’d never let someone hurt her, hell she was most likely attacked because you weren’t around. 

“If that’s true about her then the same goes for you,” Tara said, shrugging indifferently. 

“Tara-” 

“No,” Tara snapped. “If I’m in danger because she’s Dewey and Gales daughter then I’m definitely in danger because you’re the daughter of Billy Loomis.” Tara glared at her sister, refusing to react to the way Sam flinched at her words. “So, if I can’t be around her then you need to leave as well.” 

Part of her was hoping Sam would back down, that Sam would realize how insane her logic was. Sam didn’t back down though, she just nodded sadly, then left, leaving Tara alone in her hospital room once again. Tara wiped her eyes; she didn’t even know when she started to cry. She shot you a text, wanting to be there for you in any way she could since she literally couldn’t be there for you. She decided to rest her eyes as she waited for you to text back, yelling at her friends had been more exhausting than she realized. 

Tara wasn’t sure how long she dozed off for before her eyes snapped open. Her eyes darted around the room until they landed on a figure sitting in the corner. It was still daylight out, but all the lights were off, and her blinds were closed making the room rather dark. Tara’s heartbeat picked up for a second, but she quickly let out a relieved breath, shaking her head. 

“Shit,” she whispered. “You scared the hell out of me.” It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dark, but she would know your form anywhere, even slumped in a chair, in a dark corner of the room. 

“Sorry,” you whispered. 

“Are you okay?” It was a stupid question; she knew the second it left her mouth. It wasn’t like she needed to ask anyway, once the others told her everything, she knew you most definitely weren’t okay. She could hear it in your voice, even before you spoke, she could tell by the way you were slumped in the seat, nowhere near her bedside. 

“I assume you heard?” There was no emotion in your voice, it was like you detached yourself from everything. 

“Yeah.” Tara didn’t take her eyes off you; she watched as you somehow sunk further into the chair, eyes glued to the floor. She couldn’t see you that well anyway but the only time you had looked at her was when you apologized for scaring her, otherwise your eyes had been glued to the same spot on the floor. 

“Everyone thinks I’m the killer,” you whispered. “Sam doesn’t want me to see you anymore.” Tara opened her mouth to argue, to say she didn’t think you were the killer, and she couldn’t care less what Sam thought. You weren’t the killer and there was nothing that would keep Tara away from you, not even her own sister. “And-” your voice cracked. “And my-” you paused on the word as if you physically couldn’t say it. Tara wanted nothing more than to jump out of the stupid bed and run up to you. “My birth mother abandoned me.” 

Tara could feel her heart break for you, tears filled her eyes as she watched you bury your head in your hands, gripping your hair tightly. “Baby,” she whispered. 

“Why wasn’t I good enough?” You looked up and the little bit of light in the room allowed Tara to see the tears shining in your eyes. “She was right there!” Your voice went higher but not loud enough for anyone outside the room to hear you. “And Dewey, he-” you shook your head and quickly buried your head your hands again. “They were right there. Why wasn’t I enough?” Your breathing was starting to become erratic. “Why am I not enough?” You began to sob. 

“Come here,” Tara said. Her own tears had already begun to fall at seeing you like this. 

You didn’t hesitate to leave your chair and take the one at Tara’s side, on the side of her good hand. Despite your distressed state, you buried your head in Tara’s side, careful not to touch any of her injuries. Tara reached up with her good hand and began running her hand through your hair, lightly scratching your scalp. She tried to offer you any sort of comfort as you silently sobbed into her side. 

[pottersmiracle]

Studying

Harry Potter x Fem! Reader

warnings: fluff-harry crushing on reader-use of y/n-added in that every student has their own dorm-first kiss 🙈

summary: harry never seems to focus when he studies, until now.

a/n: kinda long but swet <3

Masterlist

Harry was sitting in the library as he studied for their upcoming potion's quiz for Professor Snape's class. Harry was growing bored by the minute, every time Harry tried to doze off Hermione would notice and snap her fingers in his face or hit him with her wand. Which hurt quite a bit, and he definitely didn't want that again. But, he also just felt like he couldn't focus. He kept drowning out Ron and Hermione's constant bickering.

"Hermione can he please just take one break?" Ron pleaded noticing how tired he was. “Just watching him doze off is making me tired.”

“No Ronald! Do you really want him to fail another potions quiz and have Snape pressuring him even more? If you think he’s tired now i’d like to see him after that.” Hermione mumbled the last bit.

“She’s right Ron. I just.. need to find something to focus on so i can stay awake.” Harry said making Ron roll his eyes, “she’s always right.” Hermione hit him with her book making him groan and apologize.

Harry ignored them again, letting his eyes wander around the library. Then he saw her, y/n, the girl he’s been crushing on since their first year. They were best friends but he wanted to be more, so much more.

She noticed him almost immediately and smiled at him, he hoped she didnt notice the slight red hue on his cheeks as he smiled back at her. She said something to her friends and started walking over to him, making him instantly sit up straight.

“Hey Harry.” She said walking up with a smile. “Hey, uh, how are you?” He asked swallowing his nerves. “Better now that i’m talking to you.” She said with a smile. Now his blushing had to be noticeable after that.

He laughed and Hermione cut in, “thank goodness you’re here. You’re great at potions aren’t you? I’ve heard you in class you’re brilliant.” Y/n was taken aback at Hermione calling her a genius, Hermione was known as one of the smartest wizards of her age by most of the teachers after all.

“I’m certainly not a genius but i am fairly good at potions yes.” She answered. “Great. Could you try getting Harry to focus? Trying to get him to actually learn something is incredibly difficult.” She complained as Harry looked honestly offended.

“I can surely try.” She said laughing at Hermione’s comment. Hermione scooted over so y/n could sit across from Harry. Harry was certainly focused now and they hadn’t even started studying yet. This should be fun.

��—

It had been almost an hour since y/n had sat down and started studying with Harry and Harry had already learned more from her then he had from Snape in the past 4 years. Hermione and Ron had certainly noticed that Harry was listening the whole time, and getting questions y/n asked him right.

“Students, it is now time to go back to your dormitories, the library is closed.” Professor McGonagall announced walking into the library. Y/n looked at Harry, “wanna continue this in my dorm? We only have one other chapter to go in this lesson if you’d like to finish it up.”

Harry wasn’t stupid, he wasn’t gonna say no to this. Not only was he actually learning something but he was just getting closer and closer to the girl he was in love with. “Yeah absolutely.” Harry responded. Y/n gathered the books as Harry looked at Hermione and Ron, Hermione was rolling her eyes and shaking her head with a smile, Rom subtly elbowed him and smirked at him.

“I’ll see you both tomorrow morning at breakfast yeah?” Harry said. “Yeah we’ll see you both tomorrow. Goodnight y/n!” Hermione said, waving to y/n who was putting away the books they didn’t need. “Night you two!” She responded waving back before handing Neville a book he had been waiting to read after they were finished.

——

They were in her dorm on her bed sitting across from each other. They had finished the book and was now just talking. About class, quidditch, family, anything they could think of. Harry was loving every second of it, he didn’t know that y/n was too.

As she closed the textbook to put it away, a charged tension lingered in the room. Their eyes met, and he couldn't help but stutter, "You know, this studying thing was... surprisingly enjoyable." She smirked, replying with a teasing tone, "Yeah, who knew potions could be so thrilling?" In the hushed atmosphere, their lips finally met, setting off a bomb of emotions that had been building with every exchanged glance and stolen touch during their study sessions.

After their lips parted, a gentle silence enveloped them. He chuckled nervously, breaking the quiet, "Well, that wasn't exactly studying was it." She blushed, "No, but I'd say it was more interesting." They shared a lighthearted laugh, the awkwardness fading into a newfound comfort.

He gently grabbed her hand, holding it in his as she rested her head on his shoulder, both smiling and laughing with each other.

It was perfect.

[staybabblingbaby]

Soulmate Garden AU Ch.4 (Lewisia) a3d2

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: Growing up, you knew Soulmates weren't all that they cracked up to be. So when, on your 18th birthday, your skin is painted with a garden of flower buds, you resolve to hide it from everyone. Who had ever heard of someone with 8 soulmates, anyway?

Or; Reader has 8 soulmates and no issue avoiding all of them. It's up to SKZ to show her that while every soulbond might not be made of fairy tales, theirs certainly could be.

Word Count: 10,680

Notes: Holy shit, it's been like 3 months?????? In my defense, holidays are awful, and this is a fuckin' beast of a chapter. Binnie would NAWT shut up T^T She almost matches the word count for the entire fic so far TT^TT Plus 10 images of texting. Y am i like this??? Huge shout outs to my lovely, patient, amazing betas who made this chapter at ALL possible, @lazyfacecowboy and @brbwritingfanfic. Seriously, this would not have been written without y'all, everyone say thank you! Also special mention for @chancloud8 for negotiating me through the last bit of the chapter LMAO. She kept feeding me fics, they were my reward for doing the writing UvU

Hope y'all enjoy! And I hope it was worth the wait <3

(p.s my ass did NOT do a real final readthrough. If the formatting is weird pls forgive me, I'm sick of looking @ her T^T)

Dividers by @saradika

Warnings: Allusions to past domestic violence, flashback of verbal abuse (very vague, but still there), panic attack, she/her reader

Leave me comments or questions or anything! Love hearing from folks <3

Masterlist <3 | Prev Part | Next Part (Coming Soon <3)

The next morning marks a return to routine.

You roll out of bed half awake, sleep-mused and ready for murder. Your mood isn’t improved by the way you’d gone to bed - still in your work clothes with day-after mascara gluing your eyelids together.

A quick stop by the restroom to strip and scrub your face is a necessity, otherwise you’re liable to just crawl back into bed and rot there. You honestly wish you could. Just rot away and let all this soulmate business pass you by as you slowly return to the earth.

Alas, capitalism waits for no man.

You examine your reflection when you’ve finished, doing your best to ignore the remaining traces of grey streaks down your cheeks where your eyeliner hadn’t been as waterproof as advertised.

You try to hold onto the flash of irritation the sight brings you, to cling to the normalcy of being irritated that your makeup is waterproof enough to be a pain to remove, but not to stay through your tears. Then you remember what you’d been crying over and the pit of fear and shame that’s been your companion the last few days comes rolling back.

You don’t even know why you’d cried. Don’t feel like you deserved to cry. After all, it’s not like you were the one rejected by your soulmate for no reason.

You do your best to shake off the incoming spiral, ambling your way into the kitchen. You just need to fall back on your routines and feel normal for a bit. You’re not entirely convinced that ignoring your problems won’t make them go away, despite the dark feelings trembling in your chest.

You press your lips together to stop the bottom one from trembling and open the fridge. There’s a plate of eggs, fruit, and toast inside.

Taylor, freak of nature that he is, has been up for hours already, you know. He’d probably been up and out the door before the sun had even thought about rising. Weirdo.

Your roommate is well aware of how non-functional you can be in the morning, so it’s not unusual of him to leave you leftovers when he makes breakfast. Especially when he knows you’re not feeling your best. The little note on top isn’t new either: usually a reminder, grocery list, or a little encouragement for your day. The whole thing makes you smile, usually, and you’re always touched by his consideration.

Today that little note makes your eyes prick with a new wave of tears.

‘Give yourself a chance. Bet’s still on <3’

The $20 you’d slapped onto the counter last night is taped to the back. It feels a bit like a stone hand is crushing your heart under the weight of something unknowable and precious when you carefully tuck both the money and the note into your wallet.

You very deliberately do NOT cry, though it’s a near thing. You’d done enough crying last night. But if you sniffle a bit into cold eggs, well...

That’s for you to know, isn’t it?

It’s a Tuesday, so after breakfast you drag yourself back to your room to throw on your largest, rattiest, t-shirt and a pair of leggings to head to the gym. You’ll drag yourself through your routine with leaded limbs if you have to, you’re going to have the most regular day you can manage and everything will be fine. It has to be.

You can’t help it when eyes catch on the newly-bloomed marks on your skin as you strip away your sleepwear. The sight makes you uneasy, almost uncomfortable. It takes you a moment to realize why looking at your mark, a daily ritual you’ve kept for years, feels so foreign to you today.

It’s almost alarming to acknowledge that you haven’t actually looked at your mark since you’d met your first soulmate. The concert feels like a lifetime ago, now, despite having been barely two days ago. You’re a bit ashamed to admit that you’d been avoiding looking at it since you’d felt the first flowers bloom.

It’s no wonder looking at it feels weird, you muse as you study it now. It might as well be a whole new mark, for all the changes that have happened since you last saw it.

You decide, in the name of returning to your routine for good, that you can’t skip even this tiny part of your daily rituals.

You shuffle over to your closet, swinging open the door to reveal the full-length mirror hanging on the other side. You don’t bother with your usual rounds of self-depreciation or daily affirmations. Instead, you find your eyes glued to droopy purple petals and blankets of white stars across your abdomen.

Something wilted and small within you mourns the loss of the buds that had brought you so much comfort since they’d appeared. The new blooms are beautiful, of course, vibrant and radiant and full of so much meaning. Still, the change wounds you.

Only time will tell if it’s the healing sort of hurt.

You find your eyes glued to the fresh flowers. Their names come to mind with ease as you trace gentle fingers over echoes of delicate petals. ‘Bellflowers’ You recite to yourself, drawing your finger up thin stalks and back down dipped heads, ‘for gratitude, affection, and endurance’. Your fingers dance a bit lower. ‘Edelweiss’ you muse, lightly tapping each fuzzy white star, ‘for devotion, nobility, and courage’.

The knowledge comes easily to you, not from any cosmic force, but because of course it does. Your sister hadn’t been wrong when she’d said that asking a person’s favorite flower had been basically an obsession of yours.

The habit had started well before you’d gotten your mark. Before you’d even properly known what soulmates were, really.

It started with lazy summer days you’d been almost too young to remember. A slim hand engulfing your tiny wrist, being made to sit next to your mother while she did something in the dirt, her shadow your only shelter from the blistering sun.

Gardening with your mother had started as a way for her to drag you out of the house to get some sun while keeping an easy eye on you. Before your sister was born you’d spent many hazy afternoons learning to work the soil beside your mother.

After the advent of your favorite gremlin, you’d spent those afternoons tending to the family garden alone.

You remember being grateful to the newborn back then. Those solitary afternoons were some of the most peaceful in your memory.

At some point the ‘family garden’ had become more ‘your garden’. Your mother wouldn’t even bother to plan it out with you by the time your sister had reached her toddler years. She’d drive you to the store, hand you a bit of cash, and leave it all in your tiny capable hands.

You’d spent hours researching the best ways to nurture your plants.

What flowers liked being planted together, which ones should be separated. You learned about soil types and the nutrients found in them. You learned about ph values, how to measure them, and why they mattered. Anything to have your garden thriving more brightly, more beautifully, for longer.

If you weren’t in the garden, you were in the library by your house, nose buried in a gardening book.

You vividly remember the day it all went wrong.

It hadn’t even been that dramatic, as you recall. At least, not in terms of your parent’s usual fights. It was heartbreak—despair— that had marked the day, instead of fear.

You’d been digging up weeds, clawing up deep roots with your gloved hands and a trowel, when your father had come storming outside.

You don’t remember what he’d said. It’d been nonsense, just vitriol for vitriols' sake. Something about you always taking your mother’s side because of your shared hobby, you think.

Never mind that the woman hadn’t put so much as a toenail to the dirt since your sister had been born.

He hadn’t let up for quite a while, if memory serves. Stood there yelling at you in your safe space for close to an hour. Maybe two, but your child-brain couldn’t be trusted with the time.

It may have just been minutes, now that you think about it.

Nonetheless, he’d yelled, and yelled, and yelled. He hadn’t trampled on or broken anything. He hadn’t even made sense.

And yet, when he’d finally left, everything was different.

The blooms you’d worked so hard to nurture were no longer beautiful, the soil you’d once called home no longer safe.

You hadn’t tended another garden after that season. You’d seen your plants to winter, and you’d let go. You’d turned away from the sun and soil and leaned into your books and silly questions to fill the hole left behind.

You’re sure you’d left claw marks in the dirt.

Something like a gentle humming emanates from your soulmark, and its warmth draws you back to the present. You look down at it, noticing how tightly you're clutching at the garden around your waist, your arms wrapped around you in a weak semblance of a hug. Each of your fingers had managed to directly touch a flower.

The awkward sprawl of your fingers feels natural, as if you’d never sought to comfort yourself any other way. As if seeking out your bond, your link to total strangers, for comfort was all you’d ever done.

It was natural, you muse. It was human nature to seek resonance in their bonded. It was the universe’s way of assuring you that you’re loved. Your soulmate’s way of assuring you that they’re still there.

You gingerly pry your hands away and blankly study the crescent moons you’ve left behind, soft skin indented where petals should have ripped.

You wonder if you’ll leave claw marks in this garden too. If they’ll leave claw marks in you.

You tear your eyes away from the mirror, ignoring the warm, gentle tingling up your side where your fingers had dug in. You know it means the people on the other end are pressing against their own marks. You know it shows their care, how that gentle sensation masks the stinging ache your fingers should have left behind.

For some reason, you miss the pain.

You quickly toss on a camisole, forgoing your usual privacy wraps, and your t-shirt over that.

There was nothing for emptying your mind quite like running yourself into the ground at the gym. With full awareness that you’re going to regret your gym session later, you flee your apartment, your mind pleading normal, normal, normal.

Maybe jogging all the way to the gym wasn’t such a great idea. It’d sounded fantastic at the time, a head start on your cardio and a way to remove yourself from your negative headspace before you tried to toss around weights you barely knew how to use.

It had sort of worked, but now you hadn’t even entered the building and you were already a sweaty, panting, mess.

You enter the building after guzzling down half of your water bottle, resignation in your heart. Cardio wasn’t even your focus today.

The automatic doors slide open with their usual swish and you’re greeted by the familiar stale smell all gyms seem to share, no matter how clean. It’s comforting, even if you do kind of wanna go home already.

There’s someone already at the receptionist’s desk when you approach, talking in slow and measured English. You try not to be annoyed with the tiny delay, but while you’d successfully outrun your demons (for now), your bad mood had stuck around.

Alas, you’ve ventured into the public and found the public there. A travesty. Knowing that you just have to deal with it, you cross your arms and bite back the irritation this complete stranger hadn’t done anything to earn.

Luckily enough, the low and measured cadence of the stranger’s voice is soothing enough to zone out to. Unfortunately, he’s also the only thing around to rest your eyes on, so you find yourself studying his form.

His back is broad and built, huge biceps on display in a tight fitting black t-shirt. You kinda wanna squish them. A vivid tattoo sleeve runs all the way down to his wrist, and you find your stare glued to it.

Large, boldly colored flowers take up the majority of the space, vague outlines of crashing waves and rolling mists filling in the rest with a luxurious combination of oriental art styles.

Beautiful as it is, you can’t help but think it doesn’t look finished.

Dragging your eyes away from such gorgeous ink is quite the task, but you don’t want your admiration to be mistaken for judgement. It gets easier when you start to notice just how fine the man himself is.

You really can’t help the way your eyes trace up and down his body, now that you’re no longer anchored to his tattoo. It should be impossible, you think, to somehow bulk up in only the right places, but by Jove this man has done it. You’re jealous, honestly.

Your eyes come to a rest on the stranger’s backside. Quite jealous, indeed.

You try to shake yourself from your admiration, reminding yourself that there were very many well-muscled men in this place and that you’d always endeavored to keep a polite line-of-sight, even when they didn't. It hadn’t even been a hard ask, until now.

You drag your gaze back up to the back of his head.

You’d be polite if it killed you. Even if neither the stranger or the scrawny receptionist had noticed your wandering gaze. Especially then.

While you were.... distracted... the man’s conversation with the receptionist seemed to have gone a whole lot of nowhere. From what you can gather, he’s looking for a short-term membership, and the receptionist is trying to tell him they don’t do that.

You know that’s true, the receptionist isn’t trying to scam the guy. Even the trial period for this place was an entire month. You’d specifically chosen this gym for that reason. If you hadn’t been able to stick it out for a month, you know you’d have never used the place enough to justify a membership.

You send your sympathies to this stranger, it seems he really just needs a little less than a week. You know there are some no-commitment type places not too far though, so you wonder why he’s stuck on this place.

Their back and forth goes a while longer, but it’s evident that the beautifully-built stranger can’t really argue his case properly. Whether because of the obvious language barrier he’s working with, or because he’s run out of arguments, you can’t be sure.

Eventually he steps to the side to make a call, and you’re able to approach the counter.

The receptionist (His name is Jake, you remind yourself by reading his name-tag. The owner’s nephew, if you recall) looks relieved to see you after whatever hassling the stranger had given him.

He lazily waves the clipboard and its sign-in sheet at you in greeting. You take the clipboard, trading him your membership card and driver’s license for it, and turn to prop your knee up on the counter to balance it while you write.

Incidentally, your choice of position keeps the stranger in your line of sight.

It also happens to give Jake a view of his own, but you magnanimously ignore his gaze wandering to your chest. If only because you’re still looking not-so-respectfully at the tattooed stranger a few feet away.

You weren’t close to the receptionist by any means, but Jake is easy to chat to, when you take the extra minute to do so. The type of acquaintance you’d never remember the name of if it weren’t pinned to his lapel, but you've seen pictures of every dog he’s ever had.

It makes it easy to pry him for gossip.

“So what was that all about?” You query as you hand back the clipboard. He shrugs at you, typing a second longer.

“Some big-shot who needs a security detail,” He answers, unimpressed, “Says this is the only gym in, like, five miles of his hotel that he doesn’t need an entourage to go to.”

You hum your understanding, now trying to place if the handsome stranger was someone you knew of.

Situations like that weren’t uncommon for this gym. Celebrities that actually lived in LA weren’t spotted here very often but, since it was settled very close to quite a few high-security luxury hotels, the building saw its fair share of famous faces.

Due to its occasionally high-profile clientele, security was kept quite tightly, and a certain code of conduct was expected amongst the gym’s members. It was another justification for the long trial period, wherein one could only access the front room with the basic weights and machines. All the fancy stuff (including a pool, rock wall, dance studio, and all sorts) was in the back.

Non-members weren’t allowed past reception at all.

It was also another reason you yourself were a patron here. The high security and strict standards made for a quiet and comfortable atmosphere.

At least, as long as you ignored the judgmental looks. Most people who utilized this space were much more fit and put together than you. You tried not to let it bother you.

“What’s the issue, then?” You question Jake, “Doesn’t the owner make exceptions for celebrities?” You phrase it as a question, but you know he does. The unfamiliar faces that pop up for a few days every now and then wouldn’t show up otherwise.

Jake just sighs like he’s had this conversation a thousand times. Considering the celebrity(?) waving his hands around as he spoke rapidly into his phone not far away, maybe he had.

“He does, but he’s out of town and no one else can adjust the contracts.” He eventually explains. He finally hands you your stuff back, and you hum consideringly as you put the cards back in your wallet.

Another glance at the furrowed brows on the stranger’s masked face has pity welling up your throat.

You turn your gaze to focus on Jake.

“Do I still have that visitor pass?” You ask him, knowing that he still has your details up. Jake glances at you with a raised eyebrow, but obligingly checks the computer.

“Yup,” He confirms, “You’ve been paying for it since you dragged your poor roommate in here that one time. Why?”

“Can he use it?” you nod your head to the frustrated stranger. From where you’re sat, still perched on the edge of the desk, it looks oddly like he’s begging whoever’s on the other line.

Your visitor pass wasn’t all-access, of course. It’d just get the poor guy into the main front room plus the locker rooms and showers, but you figured it’d be better than nothing. It wasn’t like Taylor would step foot in here after you’d run him ragged last time, not even for the moral support.

Jake levels you with his most deadpan stare. It’s quite a good one, completely unimpressed. You think it must be something about customer service that allows him to make that face. Or maybe it’s just you.

“You realize that your visitor pass is you vouching for your visitor’s character, right?” He reminds you, “If he does anything, breaks anything, pisses off the wrong lifeguard- it’ll be on your head.”

You just shrug. It’s not like you couldn’t find a new gym if you had to. You’d miss this one, with its quiet atmosphere and abundant amenities, but you didn’t require its security and discretion like some of the other members did.

“I’ve got a good feeling about it.” Is all you tell Jake. It’s not even a lie.

The poor boy just rolls his eyes at you. He still turns to rifle through the desk for the right form for you to fill out though, so you’ll take it.

“You a fan of his or something?” Jake asks, handing you a different clipboard. “There are easier ways to bag a celebrity.”

“Nope!” You answer cheerfully, fully ignoring the suggestion of your motives as you start to fill out the form, “No idea who he is.”

Jakes huffs an incredulous laugh, and turns a considering gaze on your new friend. And the stranger does have to be a friend now, because ‘some guy’ is not an option on your paperwork.

“I bet he’s a wrestler,” he finally says after a long moment, “Or a sportswear model.”

You gently bop him on the head with your clipboard, “I refuse to participate in your speculation.” You admonish, ignoring his whining.

“I’ll show you his picture when you leave,” He smirks back, “and whatever google says about him.” He shrugs when you send him a cutting glare, “What? It’s public information.”

“Respect your customer’s privacy, you weirdo.” You scold. He just laughs as you hand him the form, all filled out and just waiting for the stranger’s signature. You know full well that Jake will go through with his research, regardless of what you say, so you give up easily.

It’s not like he’ll be fired for doing it, as long as you don’t go blabbing about the poor celebrity outside of the gym. Privileges of nepotism.

You exchange farewells as you hop off the counter, and he begins to wave over Mr. Celebrity. You meet the eyes of your on-paper friend and offer him a quick nod before you scuttle off deeper into the building.

Hopefully he’d be too grateful for your offer to find you terribly strange.

You manage to make it all the way through your warm-ups before your good deed gets punished. You suppose you’ll be grateful to the universe for letting you find your zen on your yoga mat before it dropped the other shoe.

You notice the legs in the mirror before you realize someone is trying to speak to you. You accidentally ignore the newcomer for several long moments, assuming they were approaching to use a different part of the mirror. When you finally realize they’re waiting for you to acknowledge them, it’s been just shy of too long.

You ease out of your last stretch and stand up, automatically taking an earbud out as you turn to face them.

“Sorry, did you need me to move?” You question as you finally look up. You‘d had your most emo playlist blasting in your ears during your warm up, an attempt to process your feelings through movement or whatever that one instructor from forever ago had tried to teach you.

So of course it’s with perfect clarity that A. Jay Popoff sings “I am my own worst enemy” into the empty space between you and Seo motherfuckin’ Changbin.

Your mental plea for a normal, routine sort of day dies a horrible death when you make eye contact with the pop-star.

And you realize you really must be your worst enemy as you do, because you easily recognize the outfit he’s wearing and the vivid tattoos on his arm.

Of course your good deed for the day led you to one of your soulmates. Of. Fucking. Course.

You’re not sure what you’d done to Karma recently for her to be throwing all of this shit at you right now, but you’d appreciate it if she’d just let you apologize instead of whatever cruel punishment this is.

Changbin must realize you recognize him, because he shyly raises a hand to fiddle with his earrings as he replies.

“Ah, no, I uh...” The hand slides to the back of his neck and he clears his throat uncomfortably. You quickly school your expression back into a semblance of normality when he glances away. You feel like you might still be a bit wild around the eyes, though.

“I just wanted to say thank you.” He concludes. He looks like he wants to say more, but you figure he might not have the English words to do so easily. It’s okay, you don’t really have the Korean to describe how you’re feeling right now either.

Your first instinct is to offer to speak Korean for him, but the air between the two of you is already wildly uncomfortable. Vastly different causes for both of you, you’re sure, but it’s enough to make you second guess your every move.

“Oh, uh, no problem.” You assure.

You stare resolutely at his nose when you speak. If you look into his eyes again you’re sure you’ll spill your entire life story. And if not that extreme, you’ll at least spill the whole soulmate thing. Something about being directly confronted with your problems makes you chatty.

But also if you look away from his face, knowing that body is supposed to be compatible with yours... It leads to some very impolite thoughts. Cute as it is, his nose is the safest thing for you to look at right now.

You offer the idol a thin-lipped smile when you realize the interaction hasn’t ended. Dear god, why has it not ended?

“Anything else I can do for ya?” you offer, inwardly cursing your manners. You’ve lived here long enough that you know people outside your tiny country-side town take that as an invitation instead of a dismissal.

Sure enough, Changbin starts to speak again, his words slow and careful. You watch him wipe his palms on his shorts, idly wondering if he’s shitting himself internally as much as you are right now. And what he’s freaking out about if he is.

“You... Recognize me? Are you STAY?” He gestures a bit while he talks, like he’s trying to cast a spell on you to understand what he’s trying to say. You think it might work, because your mouth is running off without you before you quite process the words.

“Ahh.. hah, uh,” You chuckle awkwardly, your fingers rising to pinch your lips nervously, “My roommate is. We were at your concert the other day, actually,” And even as you say the words your eyes flick down to his arm. You refocus, hopefully before he could notice the quick glance, but you can’t stop your thoughts from spiraling.

After all, he didn’t have that kind of ink at the concert. You and Taylor were front row, right up on the barricade, you’d seen all eight Stray Kids up close and personal. You’d have remembered such a vivid tattoo. And there were only so many reasons to cover a sleeve like that so completely.

Something complicated settles in your stomach as you realize that Changbin is probably a ‘loud and proud’ kind of soulmate, if he’s showing off his mark like this outside of his work. Work you know prevents him from showing off his mark.

Your mouth keeps running without you while you have your little crisis.

“I didn’t recognize you at reception, I woulda had you sign something for him.” You can’t help the rush of embarrassment that sweeps through you, even as you laugh uncomfortably at your own joke.

Why on earth would you say something like that? This situation is already uncomfortable enough! On so many levels!

Somehow, this seems to have been the right thing to say, though, as Changbin’s eyes light up at your joke, the tension easing a bit.

“I can sign,” He suggests, “It would make me feel...” He starts gesturing again, looking for the word he wants, “Less bad?” He finishes like a question.

And suddenly you understand his awkwardness a lot better. It always sucks to feel indebted to someone.

You laugh a little more freely with your new understanding, “Oh, you really don’t have to,” You assure, “I was just joking.”

He shakes his head, “Think of it as.. trade.” He nods, satisfied with himself.

You bob your head to the side, pressing your lips together with a tiny, frustrated, whine, “I really didn’t want anything from you,” you insist, “I hold onto that pass for my roommate, but he never comes with me anyways. You’re doing me a favor using it, seriously.”

You try to speak slowly and clearly, taking a page from Changbin’s book and letting your hands roam while you speak. You hope your spell of understanding works as well as his did.

He takes a moment to respond, mouthing along to some of your words. It’s kind of fascinating to watch someone translate in real time, especially when the process is written all over their face. It’s a little surreal to be on the other side of it.

Eventually his face clears, and he makes a little ‘ah!’ noise that you really shouldn’t find as endearing as you do. You’re in the middle of rejecting your soulmates, you should not be finding one of them cute right now.

“If it is roommate’s pass, more reason to sign, yes?” He reasons, looking proud of his logic. You huff a tiny laugh at him, absolutely charmed.

“Sure, big guy,” You sigh with defeat, though you can’t seem to wipe the smile off your face, “Sounds like a fair trade. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.”

The two of you stall for a moment, the atmosphere leagues lighter than before.

When the moment seems over, you make a show of looking down at your pocket-less outfit, and then at the ground around you.

“I don’t have a pen on me,” you trail off meaningfully. He looks surprised for a second, like the possibility had never occurred to him.

“Oh,” He looks around as well, lost for a moment, “I can see if front desk has one?” he asks, like he’s looking for instruction. Another thought seems to occur to him then.

“Do you have...” He starts to gesture again, but you cut him off with a nod, fairly certain you’re sure what he’s trying to ask.

“Yeah, I’m sure I can find something for you to sign,” You point in the direction of the locker room, “I’ll probably have to look in my bag though.” You glance between him, the door to the locker room, and the door that leads out to reception.

“Meet back here in 5?” you propose. He seems content with this plan and nods in agreement. “Oh!” You stop him before he can fully turn around.

“Ask for a sharpie,” you instruct, “I’m not sure I’ll be able to find regular paper.” In fact, you’re pretty sure you’ll be sacrificing the spare ball cap you keep in your bag for this. You hope Taylor likes tie-dye.

With that, the two of you go your separate ways. It takes you no time at all to locate the bright monstrosity of a hat, a souvenir you abhorred from one of your father’s many ‘business’ trips. It would be no loss to you, but you take time to see if you have any actual paper around. You need the processing time.

Stars above, what were you thinking? There was no way you were getting out of this without another soulmate bond, but here you were, casually chatting with the guy instead of getting the fuck out of dodge!

You really couldn’t help it though.

Even when he’d been no more than a stranger to you, you hadn’t been able to help the way you gravitated toward Changbin. Now that you knew he was your soulmate, your actions made a lot more sense to you.

You’d always been on the people pleasing side of helpful, but vouching for a complete stranger was new for you. Even now, you were obediently grabbing an item for him to deface with a signature you don’t even want (no matter how thoroughly Taylor would murder you if you’d passed it up) just because you could tell how uneasy Changbin was with just accepting the visitor pass.

It didn’t help that the man was endearing as hell. Every little thing he did seemed cute to you, and you’d barely known him for ten minutes!

You felt like this was a new low for you. Doing things you didn’t really want to, for a man. Taylor would be so disappointed in you.

Having stalled for maybe far too long, you settle on sacrificing the atrocious hat to Changbin’s pen and put your stuff away. Something heavy and squirmy settles in your chest as you make your way back out to retrieve your prize from the man of the hour.

Surprisingly, there’s no accidental meeting of hands when Changbin autographs your hat. He did give you a bit of a bemused look for the choice of item, but you’d just shrugged at him. It was all you were willing to sacrifice, and Taylor should be grateful for even this much, in your opinion.

Unsurprisingly, the lack of first contact does not ease your mind at all. In fact, it rockets up your anxiety another thousand notches. You can’t help checking over your shoulder at every opportunity, despite the fact that Changbin hadn’t left the weights area since he’d settled there and couldn't follow you through the door to the rest of the facility regardless.

Look, you know how the whole first contact thing worked, okay? Fate would put two soulmates in the same place for whatever stupid reason, and find an even stupider reason for them to make skin-to-skin contact. You’d experienced it twice now, and you couldn’t help but think going out of your way to avoid everything Changbin was wouldn’t help you very much.

Even still, you can’t stay paranoid and vigilant forever. When nothing happens while you finish your cardio, or when you work your way through both the pool and the sauna, you admittedly let down your guard a bit.

Maybe that’s why, after you’ve made your way back to the front room to try and finish your workout, when you’re mid-stretch and staring daggers at a weight machine you’re sure you’ll figure out how to use if you glare long enough, you jump about five miles out of your skin when you hear Changbin’s voice behind you.

Jumping from such a precarious position is never a good idea, and your sudden movement has set your head on a one-way collision course with the gym’s hardwood floors about it.

Hands fly around your middle, catching you awkwardly around your ribs. Unfortunately, all this noble attempt to catch you does is slow your descent, giving you just enough time to flinch violently enough to bring your arms up and prevent your head from meeting the ground and brace for impact.

The rest of you still hits the ground pretty hard, and Changbin’s knees and elbows meet a similar fate, his own head saved by headbutting your stomach, knocking the air out of you even harder than it already had been.

The two of you sit there a moment, groaning with the pain of your fall. At least you don’t have a concussion. You’ll take every small mercy with the way the universe has treated you lately.

Some part of you is cognizant enough to give the heavens a heartfelt thank you when you notice that none of your aches and pains are from your soulbond activating. Somehow, through that entire debacle, and even considering the amount of exposed skin between your t-shirt and his, you hadn’t managed to touch. You’re still safe.

As the shock starts to wear off, you start to become aware of the warmth of large hands still resting heavily against your sides, both soothing and wildly distracting. It’s like every fiber of your being is focused on where he’s touching you, warm and weighty. Changbin’s head still buried in your abdomen doesn’t help with the building fluster taking over your brain.

You swear one of his thumbs has landed squarely on one of the flower buds directly opposite Lee Know’s Bellflowers, and the tingly feeling of the bond weakly trying and failing to establish through the thin barrier of your shirt is not helping your mushy brain at all.

You tip your head back to stare at the ceiling, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth to prevent yourself from doing something stupid, like confessing all of your sins to Changbin right then and there.

Maybe you did have a concussion after all.

It’s probably been less than a minute since the two of you hit the floor, but it feels like ten hours have passed when Changbin finally lifts his head, wide eyes finding yours frantically.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” He asks, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, are you okay?” He uses his hold on you to gently lift you to a seated position, removing them in favor of hovering politely as he fusses. You don’t think he’s realized he’s reverted to his native Korean in his panic.

“I’m alright, I’m okay,” you assure him in the same language, “Just bruised a bit, I’m fine.”

He continues to fuss a bit more, running you through a quick series of concussion tests even after you tell him that you hadn’t hit your head at all. It’s only after he’s helping you to your feet, respectfully allowing you to use a clothed part of his arm to help yourself up, that he clocks the language the both of you are using.

“Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?” He teases, “You speak Korean all of the sudden.”

You can’t help the little laugh that escapes you, nor can you help how his smug little smile makes your heart flutter. “I’ve spoken Korean the whole time.” You inform him.

“And you didn’t tell me? You just let me struggle?” The fondness in his smile assures you that he’s just joking, so you respond in kind.

“You were just trying so hard...” You shrug sheepishly and delight in the full body laugh that tears out of him. You wait for him to calm before you ask, “What did you need, by the way? I didn’t catch what you said before, well..” You gesture helplessly at the floor.

It’s his turn to look sheepish now, shoulders hiking up and a nervous hand making its way to his neck, “Ah, that.” he shrugs, “I was just saying that you had a pretty soulmark.”

The sudden compliment catches you off guard, and you suddenly become aware that your camisole has come loose from where it had been tucked into your sweats. Your hand flies up to cover the now-covered skin of your stomach, feeling sick.

You can’t remember when it happened, and the thought of however many strangers seeing your soulmark, no matter how little of it, sends a sharp note of dread through your body. You suddenly feel eyes digging into your skin, despite being covered again as soon as you’d stood up. You feel a bit sick, your skin crawling with discomfort.

You’re aware that your camisole would have ridden up to your lower back, at most, but there’s no telling how much of your mark anyone might have seen. What Changbin might have seen, what he may have noticed.

Changbin must notice your sudden pallid complexion, and continues on, trying to reassure you, probably. You barely hear him over the heartbeat in your ears, your trembling hands trying to discreetly tuck the undershirt back in while he speaks.

“I just meant that it’s very colorful and vibrant,” He explains, smile fading from his face as concern starts to cloud it at your reaction, “Whoever your soulmate is, they’re very lucky.”

“Ah, I don’t know them yet,” You counter. It’s even the truth. You hadn’t spoken much to any of your soulmates so far. Well, until now, you guess.

“Oh, well, I stand by what I said.” He asserts, his easy grin betrayed by the pinch between his brows, “Whoever your soulmate is will be very lucky to have you.”

“I don’t know about all that,” You tilt your head with self-deprecating consideration.

Maybe it’s a lingering guilt for how you’ve been handling your soulmates so far that makes you continue the thought, instead of laughing it off like the joke it should be. Maybe you just want him- want them- to know why you’ve been acting this way, “I don’t even know if I want to meet them, so I’m not sure how lucky they could be to have me as a soulmate.”

Changbin levels you with an absolutely baffled look, as if you’ve just challenged the very foundation of his worldview.

“Why not?” He asks, “Doesn’t everyone want to meet their soulmate?”

You wrap yourself in a loose hug, one hand rubbing soothingly at your elbow, and shrug, “I just... I haven’t had great experiences with soulmates, is all.” You can’t keep your eyes from straying to his soulmark, vibrant and full.

It’s an image that would be hard to elbow your way into, and you can’t imagine a way that the addition of you could possibly enhance it. It still feels unfinished to you, but it doesn’t look that way. You feel both better and worse about yourself, knowing that they didn’t need you.

A glance at Changbin’s utterly lost face has you opening your mouth before you can think about it, shoulders beginning to climb up to your ears.

“Not all soulmates get along, you know?” You mutter sullenly, almost to yourself.

Changbin seems to consider this for a moment, head tilting cutely to the side as he takes in your claim.

“I mean, sure.” He draws his words out slowly, carefully, with a little furrow between his brows. “Everyone fights sometimes, but you get through it together, right? That’s what makes you soulmates. Choosing to stick together.”

You couldn’t hold in the scoff and eye-roll combo that rips out of you if you’d tried. “Yeah, maybe.”

You’d feel bad about the venom in your voice, or the way it causes Changbin to shift uncomfortably from foot to foot, but you can’t find it in yourself to care at the moment. Something sick and dark twists around your stomach, and the battle to keep a deep scowl from your face is the only one you’re willing to fight right now.

“I have a feeling that was the wrong thing to say,” Changbin smiles wanly at you, and you meet his eyes for barely a second before you find yourself melting beneath his earnest gaze. The thorns around your heart ease just enough to bleed, and you shrug at him again.

“When people stay together just because they’re soulmates it only makes things worse.” you tell him, “Nothing gets magically fixed just because you’re soulmates.”

Surprisingly, Changbin agrees easily, “Well, yeah, that’s not the kind of sticking together I’m talking about,” He explains, “I meant more, like,” He gestures as he tries to find his words, and your heart positively aches as you realize the habit transcends languages.

You find yourself softening more and relaxing out of your defensive curl out of sheer endearment. You’re sure you’d be making absolute heart-eyes at Changbin right now if the topic at hand wasn’t so deeply uncomfortable for you.

“Ok, let me try an example,” He eventually decides, his eyes following your gaze where it had once again returned to his soulmark without your permission. He flexes a bit, making the flowers on his skin bounce and dance with a small, fond, smile. “I’m soulmates with the other members, right?”

He says it easily, casually, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You almost nod along, before you remember that the world at large definitely does not have that information, even if you do, and you meet his smug little smirk with wide-eyed shock.

You can’t help but gape at him for the casual confession, glancing around the empty gym like someone else might’ve heard Changbin’s brazen confession. He’s already waving you off before you can sputter out the questions stuck in your throat.

“It’s not a big deal, don’t worry about it. It’s not like we try very hard to hide it.” He does a weird little half-nod-half-shrug motion at his soulmark, “But yeah, we’re all soulmates, and we all pretty much knew before debut, even though Innie’s mark hadn’t shown up yet.”

You do nod this time. Slowly, though, as you try to figure out where he’s going with this. Changbin takes it as permission to continue, and so he does.

“Well, Jeongin’s our baby, and even though marks show up at 18, you’re not an adult in Korea until 19, so there’s a lot we had to leave him out on.” He grimaces a little, “Being an Idol is stressful as it is, throwing a new soul bond and puberty and all that on top wasn’t very helpful. We were all volatile and fragile. But Innie definitely took it the worst. He felt left behind and unfair and angry with it all.”

He chuckles and gives a little shrug, “We had our share of knock-down, drag-outs.” He admits sheepishly, “It wasn’t an easy time for us.” He rolls his head toward the ceiling and, despite Changbin’s efforts, you can easily spot the smitten look on his face along with his cherry-red ears.

“But we made it through,” He says softly, “We took the time to dig into all of his insecurities and find what we could do to help him. He made the choice to be vulnerable and honest with us. It took time to get here, but we made it through.”

Changbin meets your eyes again, “That’s what I mean when I say soulmates are about choosing to stick together. You work through the hard times and disagreements together, work toward something better. Soulmates are destiny, but love is choice.”

You let his words rattle around your brain as you get lost in his earnest gaze. Let the idea settle into you like something entirely new, like it wasn’t your understanding of healthy relationships beforehand. Of course that’s the ideal, you know that. No one is perfect and all that, everyone disagrees sometimes. It’s discussing it and finding solutions together that makes a partnership work long-term. You know that.

For the first time, you wonder if you’d just always considered soulmates an exception to the rule.

You’d automatically assigned soulmates as a concept a failing grade at working their problems through. Your parents certainly never worked out their issues, and every soulmate you’d ever seen in the media was an automatic happy-ending. As soon as that bond snaps into place, the story’s over. Happily ever after.

You’d always thought ‘ever after’ must be an awful short time.

‘Love is choice’ echoes through you like something divine.

You break Changbin’s gaze and offer him a half-hearted shrug. “I guess.” you concede, “My soulmates probably have a lot of work cut out for them with me, though. So I still don’t know if they’d want me.”

“I think it’d be worth the work,” Changbin smiles gently at you, “To be your soulmate, I mean.”

You feel heat rush up your neck and bless your genetics for keeping it from showing on your cheeks. You disguise your bashfulness by lightly slapping Changbin’s shoulder (and woah is he solid under your hand when you do) and loudly complain about him being a flirt.

He responds by doing his best to fluster you, clearly enjoying putting those fanservice skills to use. You complain with every flex and smoulder, especially when he starts unleashing the aegyo, and the two of you let the banter and laughter chase away the somber mood.

Eventually you settle, and Changbin nods at the very intimidating machine you’d been staring at what felt like a lifetime ago now.

“Did you need a spotter?” He offers. You hem and haw for a moment, before sheepishly admitting that you need a teacher more than a spotter. When he lights up and offers to be that, too, you can’t help the way your eyes travel up and down his body with open admiration.

He certainly looks plenty qualified, and really, you’re only a girl. If your once-over leaves him with red ears and a smug grin, well. You’ll consider it your revenge for now.

You very quickly realize your mistake in letting him coach you.

Changbin tours you quickly around various machines, explaining their functions and the proper ways to use them to avoid injury. All well and good, and you ask permission to record short videos of him doing so in case you find yourself forgetting his advice, which he graciously allows on the condition you don’t share them anywhere.

You agree after negotiating for viewing rights for Taylor, with the reasoning that the lure of the videos might actually get your roommate back into the gym with you. It makes Changbin laugh enough to indulge you.

And then he actually starts you on a machine, after getting a rundown on what you’d already done today, and you experience hell on earth.

The thing is, he’s unfairly good at coaching you through it. He keeps up a steady stream of warm encouragement and light jokes even as you curse him out for steadily increasing the weights on each machine you work through. He’s right there to help you through the sets the moment you start to get too tired and is almost preternaturally good at pushing you to only just above your limits.

And his hands are always right there. He’s almost always touching you somehow, throughout the whole thing. His touch is light, coaching and clinical, and unfailingly polite. Still, the warmth of his skin through your flimsy gym-wear feels heavy. Nearly threatening. Distracting, at the very least.

You’ll definitely need those videos later.

It’s a relief when it’s over. You’re sore and sweaty and you have to go sit at a desk for six or more hours when you leave, which you’re very much not looking forward to.

Changbin splits with you to hit the showers, but somehow you still come together again before you pass reception.

“Thanks for today,” you say as the two of you stall your goodbyes, “I had a lot of fun. You’ve more than earned that guest pass.” you tease, smile wide and mischievous.

He’s smiling too, even as he shoves your shoulder and complains about you extorting him.

When you run out of things to say, you shuffle lightly in place. It’s not like you expect him to give you his number, he is an Idol after all, but still you can’t quite make yourself leave. You find yourself casting around for something, anything, to say to make the moment last. To stay in his presence just a second longer.

You shake yourself out of it once you notice. You might not be running from them anymore, but you certainly weren’t trying to make friends with your soulmates. The longer you stayed in his presence, the more likely it was that you’d end up with another first contact.

At last, after a far-too-long moment of silence, you hold out your hand and offer a flat, closed-lip smile.

“It was really nice to meet you, Changbin.” You tell him sincerely, eyes locked on his. You swear looking your soulmates in the eye is some kind of hypnosis, the way you always get lost in them when you do. Something about it just makes you feel a tiny bit dumb, like your brain gets switched off.

“You too, y/n.” He agrees, reaching for your offered hand. You only realize what you’ve just done as your name leaves his lips, your eyes widening as they dart down to his hand and yours, but it’s far too late.

Your breath hitches a moment before his skin makes contact with yours, and you watch it happen in slow motion. He grasps your hand and pulls you in instead of settling for the more distant and formal farewell. All too quickly you’re settled into his grasp, completely enveloped in him and dizzy with more than just his warmth as soft prickles dance up your side.

You feel more than you hear him gasp, his hold on you so complete. Your head ends up on his shoulder as you stumble into him from his pull, and you get a front row seat to the top of his shoulder filling in with outlines and shadows from your place tucked against his neck, dull colors adding a definition to the images in his soulmark and settling like they’d always been there.

Distantly, you feel chest tighten with completion, with satisfaction and something smug and proud at the sight, even as your mind starts screaming.

Changbin is solid against you, comforting and almost stiflingly warm from both his workout and shower. You catch a whiff of his soap, the scent muting the alarm bells blaring in your brain even as you lay limp against him with the shock.

And then his hold on you tightens just a bit, only for a moment, but it’s all that it takes for you to break.

Your breath begins to hitch, visions of sweet touches turning sour and threatening violence causing you to flinch violently in Changbin’s comforting embrace. You feel your eyes begin to wet as you start to struggle, needing out, out, out.

It must have been less than a second, but Changbin pulls back, still holding you by your shoulders like he doesn’t know how to let go.

“Y/n?” He asks, voice small. You can only shake your head, breaths coming out in harsh gasps, limbs trembling violently. Changbin hurriedly lowers the two of you to the floor, much more prepared than you are for your limbs to give out halfway down.

He finally releases you as you settle and you curl tightly into yourself. The places where he’d held you feel frozen now, the cold viciously settling into your bones, even as Changbin does his best to get your attention and guide you through a breathing exercise.

You can’t focus on him though, the sensation of flowers blooming on your skin overwhelming, the memory of his touch both welcome and suffocating.

“S- ‘orry, I’m-” You hiccup, “I’m so- so s’rry-” If Changbin is at all put off by your sudden breakdown, he doesn’t show it. He just tilts his head and offers you hushed words of assurance.

“Nothing to be sorry for, y/n,” he assures, “It’s alright, just breathe, ok?”

He offers you a hand and you can’t help but take it, the warmth startling a breath into you that you hadn’t been aware you needed. Changbin guides your hand to his chest, instructing you to breathe with him, and you automatically focus on the heavy thump of his heartbeat under your palm.

He keeps talking to you, trying to keep your attention, but your mind spins wildly away from you even as you finally manage a deep inhale under Changbin’s attention.

You need to tell him that you’d known since he’d first spoken to you who he was. Who he was to you, even, but you can’t open your mouth to do more than gasp another apology. You’re sure he’ll hate you, leave you there on the floor of the gym to die like you deserve, especially after all you’d told him about how you feel about soulmates.

He’ll hate you for putting his soulmates through rejection, for refusing to speak to them or even look them in the eye. He’ll leave you here, humiliated on the gym’s floor, and you’ll deserve it because you’re a horrible person who wouldn’t even give them a breadth of a chance because you were too damn scared-

A hand grasps your spare one, the one not touching him, not keeping you just barely above the waves of hyperventilating, and you hadn’t even noticed it scrabbling at the stretched out neckline of your t-shirt until it’s gently pried away and guided to a wall of firm muscle.

Your fingers instinctively grasp what’s suddenly underneath them, and your vision stutters back in as a soft tingling rockets its way up your arm.

You distantly acknowledge that it was probably a bad thing that your vision had faded off with your eyes stuck wide open, staring blankly at legs you couldn’t feel. Right now, however, all you can experience is Changbin. His mark under your fingers, grip clawing and desperate. His heartbeat under your palm, faster than it should be, but steady and loud and feeling like it’s part of your own body.

Like he knows he has your attention again, Changbin ducks down to catch your eyes. You find nothing in them but concern and a soft emotion you couldn’t hope to pinpoint.

“Y/n,” He calls softly, “Y/n, do you mind if I touch you?” The gentleness he speaks to you with is devastating, like he’s trying to place your panicked mind on a cloud of care. You want so desperately to accept that care from him.

You nod, small jerky movements to indicate your agreement even as gasping sobs still stutter in your chest.

Changbin immediately moves, shuffling closer to you on his knees and releasing the wrist of your hand, the one still grasping at his mark like it’d disappear if you relaxed so much as a millimeter. He uncrosses his arms from the awkward reach he’d had to use to maneuver your hands where he wanted them, and reaches his now free hand to rest gently but firmly on your waist, right over his place within your own mark.

The resonance from his touch is weaker, the material of your shirt in his way, but with both sides active the feeling floods you in a way you could never describe.

You know, in the back of your mind, that you’ve read about resonance before. That you know all about the flood of endorphins and other feel-good hormones that it causes, that you’ve read first hand accounts from all sorts of people swearing up and down it feels better than any orgasm ever could. In the moment though, you feel like your brain has been reset completely. Back to factory settings, entirely blank.

You come back to yourself in slow blinks, resonance still echoing brightly between you and Changbin. Your one hand is still tightly clasped to his chest, and you’re sure you’re only breathing right now due to the steady rise and fall of Changbin’s chest. The two of you are still gripping each other’s marks.

You feel unsettled as awareness returns to your body. You feel floaty and not all there, even as you calm enough to feel the numbness of your legs and the pain in your knees from hitting the floor. An increasingly familiar tingling feeling is emanating from each of your active soulmarks, despite the fact that you know the other two should have no idea how you’re feeling right now.

Your bond wasn’t strong enough for that. You hadn’t given it the chance to be.

The thought that they might just be thinking of you gives you a soft and fluttery sort of feeling.

Finally, Changbin pulls back, removing his hand from your mark and sliding up your arm to gently pry yours from his bicep. You’d wince at the marks your nails had left on his skin if you didn’t still feel like your bones were vibrating on the astral plane from the intensity of a reciprocal resonance.

He gently holds both of your hands in his and settles them between you, catching your eye again.

“You back with me, bubs?” He asks, smile light and tone even. You’d think him unaffected if not for the redness of his ears and the slight haze in his eyes.

Right. Eight soulmates. He’s probably used to it.

He’s also trying to get you down from a panic attack, you remember as your hands begin to faintly tremble in his grip. You nod slightly at his question, apologizing again.

“Hey, no.” Changbin scolds softly, eyes locked on yours, “You’ve nothing to be sorry for, it’s okay. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

You shake your head in refusal of both ideas, opening your mouth once, twice, three times, before huffing irritatedly at the lack of words falling from your lips. Changbin squeezes your hands to keep your attention on him, expression open and accepting. His silence allows yours to end.

“I just- It’s just that I-” You breathe harshly through your nose, squeezing his hands back to ground yourself, “I knew from when I realized who you were that you were my soulmate.” you grind out in halting words, the trembling spreading from your hands up to your chest. You take in a shuddering breath, “That’s why I was apologizing. Because I knew and I still said those things to you.”

You can tell your confession takes Changbin off guard. The man blinks rapidly as he takes in the new information, slotting your earlier behavior against your reaction just now and having trouble connecting them.

“Soulmates terrify me,” you confess quietly, before he can ask, “You’re so nice, but you’re so fucking scary to me, I’m sorry.”

With that, you remove your hands from his, and Changbin just sort of helplessly lets you go, a lost expression taking over his face. You try to stumble to your feet, and he scrambles up to help you, caring even through his confusion.

You can feel the trembling travel to your legs, and you’re glad for his steady hold despite yourself. You feel like a stiff breeze might knock you over.

“I need- I- I’ve gotta- argh!” You clench your teeth with frustration, taking a deep, bracing, breath, before trying again. “I need to go home.” You’d like to say it came out strong and self-assured, but the words leave you in a breathless whimper that makes you feel small and pathetic.

Everything about this makes you feel small and pathetic.

Changbin catches your eyes again, brows creased in concern.

Except for him.

“Of course, whatever you need,” He assures, “Can I call a car for you? A friend? Your roommate?”

You shake your head, hopelessly endeared by his need to help you. You feel guilty for refusing him when he’d just pivoted from the bombshell you’d dropped on him to focus on your care but you- you needed to go home. You needed to leave, and it was taking every ounce of effort you could spare to keep from bolting.

“No, I can- I’ve got- I want- shit.” The curse spills from you unbidden, frustration with the vestiges of your panic refusing to leave you building sharply. If anything, Changbin’s concern only grows deeper as you struggle to express yourself.

“I need to move, I’ll walk.” Your mouth finally allows you to spit out, almost aggressively. Changbin almost seems to despair at your declaration.

Looking at your own condition, you can’t blame him. Trembling like a leaf and barely able to speak, you’d never let yourself leave if you’d been in his place. You can’t spare the energy to explain that if anyone tried anything at you in this condition you’d probably try to kill them first and ask questions later.

You don’t handle stress well.

Still, despite his obvious reluctance, Changbin lets you leave his embrace.

You’re more stable on your feet now, and a deep breath fills you with a facade of confidence that will see you home. Changbin’s hands still hover around you, as if waiting for you to shatter apart again.

“If you need anything, please call me, okay? Anything at all, please call me.” He pleads with you. You only manage to give him another tiny nod before you dip into a full bow and turn to flee.

Changbin watches you go with a face full of concern and confusion.

‘I think it’d be worth the work, to be your soulmate’ he’d said. You can’t help but wonder, as the gym disappears behind you, if he still thinks that.

Tag Garden: @brbwritingfanfic , @braveangel777 , @breathlessbookworm , @chancloud8 , @roseynoodles , @katsukis1wife , @alisonyus , @imnotsop , @pixie0627 , @velvetmoonlght , @upsidedownchaire , @unusuallyshy , @interstellar-equilibrium , @staytinyluv , @m00njinnie , @staaaa4 , @yourcrypticreaper , @beas-24 , @stars4jo , @scented-morker , @tirena1 , @min-doesnt-know , @glitterveins992 , @yumuramma , @shoganaiiii , @4ng3l-ch1ld , @linospetsitter

Perma Tags: @mbioooo0000 , @thatgirlangelb (<- you've been added without choice. suffer.)

[garoujo]

saetoru is talking abt you on her private blog (@/clorindes) yuckkkkk

CW BULLYING, LITERALLY IMMATURE HIGH SCHOOL DRAMA, SUB POSTING.

hi nonnie, thank you for letting me know! since i’m leaving this blog & this platform for the foreseeable future i figured i might aswell get a few things off of my chest before i go. i apologise in advance for the vibes this post will probably bring, the discourse & the posts that will ofcourse follow, but i honestly i am not the first person to be targeted by this creator and i’m sure i won’t be the last considering the amount of creators that have been bullied off of this app by them.

first off i’ve had multiple blogs that would be considered bigger blogs such as @/hvnlydmn, @/atsymu + now this blog which is the biggest of all 3. i think there’s a sort of unspoken responsibility that comes with being a bigger blog which i know is no fun but it’s also because it can be super harmful on a site like this, when people weaponise their following.

on that note i’ll start this post by saying that i’ve known tee for probably around 3/4 years, maybe? we were mutuals on hvnlydmn & atsymu and we continued to talk on discord even when i was off of tumblr. i will honestly admit to this day i have never had a negative interaction with tee to my face and she was genuinely supportive of me during any discourse i was involved in. i am not some angel, i’ve had my fair share of crap on this app (of my own doing) but this post is not meant to come across like “oh she doesn’t like me so i’m calling her out” no. im sorry if this doesn’t line up with my brand and my ‘victim complex’ but i’m not gonna lie down and let someone on a power trip on a hobby app drag me through the mud.

first off i had began to get some off vibes from tee when i had started writing on garoujo, notably when i’d just hit my first milestone which was probably around 1k. during this i had decided to move my instagram theme from my main blog to my writing blog.

i’d noticed tee subposting (on main and on her personal blog which i followed at the time) about someone basically using the same theme as her, which after then clicking onto her blog i realised was an instagram theme. i didn’t think much of it, again me & tee were friends and she hadn’t came to me directly so ignored it. i was still a new blog and trying to solidly an aesthetic (before the beige lol) so i changed my theme / masterlists / layouts a lot.

a few more sub posts later i decided to message tee about it because with every thing i’d change / post on my blog, there always seemed to be another post. so i messaged her and got this response in: (i’ve blurred out my irl name btw) open up pics for convo!

so i let it slide, kept posting & that was that. probably a few days / a week later, tee had soft blocked me which then eventually led to me being hard blocked. i was upset ofcourse because i genuinely considered tee a good friend but i’ve always been a big advocate in controlling your space.

this was when, one of our mutuals in common (the first of many may i add) approached me on discord to say that just like now, i was being ripped to shreds on tee’s personal blog:

again i was notably upset about this because i was being accused of not only copying her theme but also her writing & masterlists, we did have a lot of mutuals in common so it was also upsetting knowing they would all be seeing these posts aswell. i allowed myself one sub post about “creating a narrative” because i was particularly frustrated but tee then also subposted about this, even though she had me blocked?

i would also like to say regarding our mutuals in common that this was not the first or last mutual to approach me regarding tee. i’ve had multiple people tell me that “they’re only mutuals with her because it would be more damaging not to be” “it’s easier to be on her side”. also i am not saying this is okay but i’ve had multiple of her current mutuals send me not only her posts, but screenshots of her private, personal instagram & also tell me about how all of them and their friends had a running joke / theory that tee made up her boyfriend (ex-boyfriend?) for attention.

regarding the accusations from tee i’d like to first comment on the instagram themes, again i had done an instagram theme on my main blog but it seemed to only be an issue when it was on my writing blog that was gaining traction. if the timing was off and it seemed like i copied her, i genuinely have nothing to say except it’s not the case— it’s instagram (which tee already admits she doesn’t own above) also the hanma writing? i’m still not 100% sure which drabbles she was referring to but i can only assume that 1. is when i posted a drabble about hanma fucking you outside of his subordinates house — this was a almost completely word by word rewrite of a suna drabble i done on my old blog @/atsymu i literally just changed the concept to fit tokyo revengers themes. i can post screenshots of this suna drabble also from my google docs dated February when i deactivated. the other one may have been some basic concept about him fucking you against the window.

she also mentions in the very first recent screenshot at the beginning of this post that i have apparently stolen concepts of fics / posts from her mutuals. what i want to say regarding this is, do you believe that i would have made it this far on stolen work? i don’t know any of the mutuals she’s referring to apart from 1 which i’ll get into. but every single accusation i’ve ever received has always come from someone associated or in contact with tee, she has always been at the root of it all but i have yet to receive a single anon or ask about me copying or taking inspiration from anyone’s work.

i know there was apparently a blog and an ex mutual of mine, who i had a lot of respect & time for who was under the impression i’d stolen their concept for this gojo fic. the whole premise of this fic is honestly not uncommon considering how many times people losing control of their techniques / powers / quirks during orgasm has been done in fanfiction. this concept was completely my own, i had originally posted shitposts about him losing control of his technique & also him putting you into a mating press / breeding before i’d decided to smoosh them together into a fic. we all read from the same workbook, we all have the same material to work off of — two people in a fanbase of THOUSANDS having a similar idea is not unheard of.

now onto the masterlist banners. the screenshot on the far left are the comparison photos that tee made herself— i’m sure you’ll be able to see them in better quality when she makes her own post about it; because obviously that’s going to come. first off i will say, i will admit i took inspiration from her official art masterlist banners — i thought hers looked good and i needed a masterlist so i used official art. fair game there although i only kept them for a few days before i changed again.

but onto the grey masterlist banners, i can honestly say i did not even know tee had this masterlist, also the only comparison i myself see is the colour. the only reason i chose grey was because i had started to use a grey / white overlay on my manga panels for my layout (as you can see far right), and as you know— i’ve always kept my colour scheme pretty consistent. on that note, regarding the actual layout of the masterlists— i’ve added screenshots from atsymu (that i could find due to it being deactivated) that shows the layout of my old masterlists, which was what i took inspiration from for my current. although the title font for each heading like headcanons is different, i had used the sort of old style, basic font that everyone uses before i had deactivated so it would match my fic headers i just don’t have photos obviously.

anyway on the back of this there was then discourse over me apparently copying tee’s kinktober masterlist, which again was not the case. but again due to tee’s following i had received multiple death threats into my asks the morning after i posted mine. as far as i was aware, the only similarities were the fact we both used gifs in our headers & the layout listing thirsts, hcs & fics (which is very common during kinktober but i admitted below i could see that similarity). unfortunately during all of this discourse was when ffflowers, my hate blog also came into the mix which then lead to tee reaching out to me in dm’s from her old blog.

the interaction between me & tee was pretty good, again she was nothing but nice to me directly despite the way she obviously spoke about me in private above. but as you can see below, tee herself told me that basically most of the similarities all made above were brushed off as basic. we spoke about the ig themes & i apologised, saying i could understand where she was coming from and that was that. i unblocked her & she unblocked me so i could reblog her post, it’s been that way since.

it is not my place to comment on other people’s experiences on this app but i would need more than 2 hands to list the amount of people that i’m sure have had similar if not worse experiences with tee. i know i have had multiple mutuals who have been bullied off of this platform & had their safe space ripped from them for little things such as: liking a character that this group selfship with, tee and her friends not liking their characterisation. they’ve even went as far as to go through other larger creators notes to check for minors so they can make excuses as to why they’re thriving.

i also know of a blog who was ‘blacklisted’ from tee & her mutuals as they self shipped with arataki itto at the time, one of tee’s friends also did, so they blacklisted this creator and had all of their mutuals block them for this which then in turn drove this creator off the app. there has been other notably bitchy things that i’ve heard but i have no receipts for therefore i don’t see any relevance in starting rumours.

i would also like to say i know plagiarism is a horrible thing, we have all been through it— myself included but it’s got to the point where being accused of copying tee has become a canon event. notably, bigger platforms have been ruined and driven off of this app for little things such as mdni dividers, similar colours schemes etc. and it’s the reason i’m also leaving.

i will say i have met some amazing people through my discourse with tee, notably people who have been in similar situations and i also apologise to any mutuals who we still have in common who are now sort of stuck inbetween. no hard feelings. although to tee: id be careful of the people you trust because it seems the loyalties they have to you are not as sincere as you may believe. you can also go to her personal & read the other things she was saying about me like how she was always so ? at how many people seemed to like me.

so that’s all i have to say, i’m sure dash will get a few responses from this but i’ll be logging out & turning off asks because honestly? couldnt care less. the only thing i’d change about my experience on this app would be i wish i’d blocked tee sooner.

i’d say have a nice day, but instead, have the day you deserve.

— emmie :)

[mionemymind]

Don't Say Something Stupid

Summary: Wanda is unable to commit yet unable to admit she's wrong. (Part Two of Don't Ask Stupid Questions)

Warnings: Pure Angst, No Happy Ending, Maybe Part Three?

A/n: Wanted to hurt y'all more, so here y'all go :) Gif credits go to @thedorkphoenix

Word Count: 662

Masterlist

Part One | Part Two

“Y/n, your new partner is Emma.” Wanda turned her attention from Vision to Steve at the mention of Emma. Trying to hold back her offense, Wanda commented, “Y/n is my partner.”

Wanda looked back at Y/n, but their eyes hadn’t met as Y/n continued to stare at Emma’s file. “We believe their powers work better together, Wanda. Plus, your new assigned partner is Vision as your mind stones should help with increased efficiency and communication.”

Wanda held back the comment on the tip of her tongue. It wasn’t appropriate to say stupid things like, “But she’s always been my partner.”

“You dumped Vision?” Natasha asked surprisingly. Wanda looked away as she could tell Y/n had heard the comment with the way her shoulders tensed. 

“He kept wanting more and honeslty…” Wanda sighed, feeling more guilty of the additional person she led on, “…and I couldn’t give him that.”

Natasha nodded in understatement as she squeezed Wanda’s shoulder. “Was it because y’all didn’t have the connection?” Wanda shook her head, feeling lost as to why she even did it in the first place. 

“Honestly, I’m not too sure…I rather admit that before saying something stupid.” Wanda tried her best not to look at Y/n’s slumped shoulders as she proceeded to get up from the coach and walk to her room. 

And as Natasha continued to talk, Wanda didn’t dare to remember how much Y/n hated feeling stupid. 

“Why did you get in my way?” Emma was held back by Y/n as she aggressively questioned Wanda. “You almost got Y/n and I hurt with that stunt you pulled.”

Wanda rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Had it not been for my quick thinking, Y/n would’ve got hurt and you would’ve been swarmed.” 

“We had it handled,” Emma bit back. And before Wanda could get another word, Y/n locked eyes with her, and silently pleaded to stop. Seeing Wanda’s stance falter, Y/n pulled Emma back and mumbled, “Let’s not fight anymore. We’ll figure it out a different day so come on.”

While Y/n tugged on Emma’s hand, Wanda mind couldn’t stop thinking of stupid things. The main one being, “Were you even on my side?” 

“Are you ignoring me?” Wanda caught Y/n in the hallway, almost close to the spot where they used to secretly make out. The red head could tell that Y/n had wanted to be anywhere else but there with her. Although it stung, Wanda wanted answers.

“Wanda - I - let’s just be cordial.” Feeling even more confused, Wanda backed Y/n into the wall with her arms crossed. 

“Cordial? You don’t even speak to me anymore.” Y/n still didn’t look at Wanda’s eyes. The girl was absolutely frustrated at how dense Wanda could be as if she couldn’t read the room.

“Well…” Y/n swallowed her anxiety and pain and finally looked into Wanda’s eyes, “…rules are rules. I broke them so this is me moving on from it.”

Wanda stepped back, feeling slapped and shocked at the confession. “Moving on? Are you seriously unable to continue without having feelings involved?” The red head didn’t know where this fierceness came from. It certainly didn’t explain what she truly meant. But she was always too stubborn to think it through. 

Y/n scoffed, not surprised that Wanda could barely understand her place. “You ‘re right, I seriously don’t know why I ever fell for you.” The smug look on Wanda’s face fell. She’s had many people admit their feelings for her but none have ever admitted to regretting them.

Y/n didn’t wait for Wanda’s response and started to walk away but Wanda’s hand stopped her from going. Not wanting to hear anything more, Y/n blurted, “Don’t say anything stupid now, Wanda.”

Snatching her hand out of Wanda’s grip, Y/n declared, “You might get your heart broken if you do.”

Taglist: @halobaby  @arelyitsherec8 @blackxwidowsxwife @cristin-rjd @madamevirgo @trikruismybitch @paradiselost916 @mmmmokdok @morbid-gaymer @dailyavengering @itsnottilly @helloalycia @randomshyperson @tomy5girls @daenerys713 @ensorcellme @lezzzbehonesthere @imagine-reblog

@sighsam @olsensnpm @tquick99 @feolok @emilyprentisslittlewhore @mvddison99 @iamapotato @yuhloversxx @mjaudrey @upsidedowndanvers @somewhatgreatexpectations @wandavixen @magicallymaximoff @username23345 @coollemonsaresour @littlewinchester15 @aimezvousbrahms @afuckingshituniverse @am-just-a-cosmic-joke-to-me 

@ohmygooddamnbisexualmood @diaryoflife @s7uts @newyork1432 @the-anxious-stargazer @hello-mtf @marvelousbelladonna @ima-gi–na-tion @obsessed-with-wandamaximoff @the-camilucha 

@itsnottilly @171611 @kaitlynroseb @daisybri7 @drpepperobsessed @bemyvitamin @musicinourlips @marvelousbelladonna @gingerbreadcookieforlife @xastrydx @chasethemoon @naixia00 @lostandsearching @stupidsapphicsstuff @haechanana @the-camilucha @severepeanutartisanhands @owloftheshadows @somewhatgreatexpectations @ywuen @mixed-fandom-mess @loomontoia @ilovemarvelwomen @coxmicbabygirl  @cyanide-mustard @mrs-avenger3000 @prentisshoe @andrea-stark @simpforwandanat @abimess @randomshyperson @yourtaletotell @magically-queer-stuff 

@imapotatao @iliketozoneout @maximoffbrossupremacy​@olsensnpm​ @psychadelichues​ @whitelotus00 @taliiiaasteria @tynix @autorasexy @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @hiiraya @reginassweetheart @milkeeteaa

@msmothermaximoff @unicorniusfallapatorius @cakechan123 @anniedanvers @oh-thats-cute @ielliesitcheyereposts @how-to-disappearrr @justyourwritter69 @canvascoloredin (Wanted to tag y'all because I think y'all wanted a part two, but I won't add y'all to future taglists unless you want me to)

[its-avalon-08]

Hi. Could you do a Fernando Alonso one where reader are Carmen's sister and sometimes accompany her to races to spend time together due to reader's busy schedule with her modeling career and to the point where Fernando becomes interested in knowing more about her while George and Carmen try to set them up, since they realize how well the two get along and the tension that is in the air

meddling and podiums (fa14)

✦ pairing - fernando alonso x female!reader

✦ genre - friends to lovers, meddling george and carmen, cute, fluff,

The paddock was buzzing with the usual energy of race day. The sun beat down on the vibrant F1 scene, with fans filling the grandstands, drivers making last-minute preparations, and teams moving swiftly to ensure everything was ready for lights out. Amidst all this, Carmen and her sister, Y/N, walked through the paddock, turning a few heads.

Y/N hadn’t been to a race in a while. Her modeling career kept her moving from city to city, but today, she managed to carve out time to support her sister and spend some quality time together.

“I'm so glad you could make it,” Carmen smiled, looping her arm through Y/N's as they navigated through the McLaren garage. “Feels like I never see you anymore."

Y/N laughed, adjusting her sunglasses as she glanced around. "Tell me about it. I've missed this vibe. You know how crazy my schedule’s been. But I needed this. A break, some racing… and, of course, hanging out with my favorite sister."

“Your only sister,” Carmen teased.

As they walked past the garages, Y/N caught sight of the familiar green of the Aston Martin team and its star driver, Fernando Alonso. His presence was impossible to ignore—tall, rugged, and oozing confidence as he discussed strategy with his engineers. She had seen him on TV countless times but seeing him up close was something else entirely. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly commanding he was.

Carmen noticed her sister’s gaze lingering. "Interesting view?" she asked playfully, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N shrugged nonchalantly, though a smirk played on her lips. "Just… observing. No harm in looking, right?"

"Right…" Carmen said, clearly noting the spark of interest. "Come on, George is waiting for us at Mercedes. But, I wouldn't mind taking a detour near the Aston Martin garage later."

Y/N chuckled. "You're not that subtle, you know."

As they made their way towards George, Y/N felt someone’s eyes on her. Glancing up, she met Fernando Alonso’s gaze for the briefest of moments. He looked curious, like he was trying to place her face. She wasn’t just another person in the paddock to him. And then, just as quickly, the moment passed, and he turned back to his conversation.

They reached Mercedes, where George Russell was leaning casually against a wall, spotting them from a distance with a wide grin on his face. "Well, look who finally decided to show up—Miss World herself," he teased, pushing off and walking over with a playful bounce in his step.

Y/N smirked, rolling her eyes as she hugged him. "Oh please, as if you don’t love having me around to boost your popularity. Admit it, you’ve missed me."

"Missed? Try celebrating the peace and quiet since you've been jet-setting across the world," George shot back, ruffling her hair in a brotherly gesture. "Now you're back to ruin it all."

"Ruin it? I make everything better, Russ. Without me, you'd be bored out of your mind."

Carmen laughed as she watched them banter, but George wasn’t done. “Honestly, I think the paddock’s been too calm. Carmen’s always talking about you, and I’m like—great, now I have to deal with two of them. Double trouble."

Y/N punched him lightly on the arm. “Admit it, you love having me around to keep you on your toes."

George laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright! You win. It’s nice to see you here, Y/N. It’s not the same without you stirring things up."

Y/N smirked. "That’s what I thought."

As they exchanged more playful jabs, George's expression turned more mischievous. "Oh, by the way, Alonso's been… asking about you."

Carmen and George shared a knowing look. "Well, you did just catch his eye. Plus, he's been asking questions like… ‘Who’s the girl that sometimes comes with Carmen?’ And ‘What does she do?’ You know, the usual."

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. "He could just ask me directly, you know."

“Oh, I’m sure he’s thinking about it,” Carmen said, nudging her.

As they chatted, George’s phone buzzed. He glanced down and grinned. “Speak of the devil. Fernando’s just invited us to the Aston Martin hospitality. Care to join?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, pretending to think. "Isn't this a bit of an obvious setup?"

Carmen laughed. "It's not a setup if there's already chemistry."

George nodded, backing her up. "Exactly. Come on, Y/N. Just join us. I bet it’ll be fun."

Y/N sighed, though a flicker of curiosity burned in her eyes. "Alright, alright. But if this gets awkward, I’m blaming both of you."

"Deal," George smirked, already texting Fernando back.

As they made their way toward Aston Martin, Y/N felt the flutter of anticipation rise in her chest. She hadn’t expected to feel like this, but there was something intriguing about Fernando. The way he carried himself, the quiet confidence… it piqued her interest.

And if the way George and Carmen were looking at her was any indication, they were already rooting for something to happen.

---

The Aston Martin hospitality suite was buzzing with activity when Y/N, Carmen, and George arrived. The gleaming green branding and calm atmosphere contrasted sharply with the chaotic energy outside. Fernando was standing near a table, engrossed in conversation with one of the team members, but as soon as they entered, his eyes flicked toward them.

George waved, leading the way. “Fernando! Hope we’re not interrupting anything important.”

Fernando glanced up, a subtle smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Not at all,” he said smoothly, nodding at George before his gaze shifted to Y/N. “I see you’ve brought company.”

Y/N felt a slight flutter in her stomach as his dark eyes locked on hers. His presence was even more intense up close, and though he kept his tone casual, there was something in the way he looked at her that made her feel like they were the only two in the room.

“This is Y/N,” George said, clearly enjoying the moment. “You know, Carmen’s sister. We thought we’d drag her to more races since she’s been so busy.”

“Nice to finally meet you in person,” Fernando said, extending his hand toward Y/N. His voice was deep and calm, carrying a sense of quiet authority.

Y/N smiled, taking his hand in a firm handshake. “Likewise. I’ve heard a lot about you,” she replied, her voice steady despite the unexpected jolt that came from the contact.

“Only good things, I hope,” Fernando said, his tone light but his eyes lingering on hers.

Y/N tilted her head slightly, a playful glint in her eyes. “Mostly.”

Carmen shot George a look, clearly noticing the subtle tension between them. “So, Fernando, you’re ready for today’s race?”

“Always,” he responded, but his attention was still on Y/N. “And what about you, Y/N? How does this compare to the excitement of your world?”

Y/N laughed softly, breaking eye contact for a moment. “A little different from the fashion shows, but I think I prefer the noise and chaos here. Plus, watching these races is a nice break from my schedule.”

Fernando’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. “I imagine modeling takes you all over the world.”

“It does,” she replied. “But I try to make time for things that really matter. Family, friends… experiences.” Her eyes flicked up to meet his again, and there was no mistaking the subtle undercurrent in her words.

George, sensing the building tension, decided to jump in before things got too intense. “You two are making me feel like a third wheel,” he said, laughing awkwardly. Carmen elbowed him, but George just grinned. “Maybe we should give you a little more space.”

Carmen chimed in, smiling innocently. “That’s not a bad idea. George and I were going to grab some food, actually. You know, let you two get to know each other without us butting in.”

Y/N shot her sister a look, knowing exactly what she was trying to do. “Carmen…”

But George was already pulling Carmen along, leaving Fernando and Y/N standing there alone. "We'll be right back!" he called out, far too chipper as they disappeared into the crowd.

Y/N turned back to Fernando, trying not to laugh at her sister and George’s obvious meddling. “They’re not exactly subtle, are they?”

Fernando chuckled, his gaze softening. “Not at all.”

There was a moment of silence, but it wasn’t awkward. The air between them felt charged, like there was something simmering beneath the surface. Y/N could feel his eyes on her, the weight of his attention making her heart race.

“You’re close with George and Carmen?” Fernando asked, his tone casual, but his interest was clear.

“Yeah,” she replied, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Carmen and I are really close. It’s hard with my schedule, so I try to come to races whenever I can to see her. George is like an annoying older brother, but… we all get along.”

Fernando nodded, his eyes following her movements. “I can see that. They seem like good people.”

“They are,” Y/N said. “George is always looking out for Carmen, and by extension, me. Which is probably why they’re trying so hard to—” she paused, catching herself before finishing the sentence, but Fernando raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“To…?” he prompted.

Y/N smirked, shaking her head. “To do exactly what they’re doing right now—setting us up.”

Fernando’s lips curved into a small smile. “Ah, so you noticed.”

“Hard not to,” she replied with a light laugh. “They’ve been dropping hints for weeks now.”

Fernando’s expression grew more serious, though the smile never left his face. “And what do you think about that? Being set up?”

Y/N paused, meeting his gaze again. There was something about him—he was confident, sure, but not in an arrogant way. His interest in her felt genuine, and she couldn’t deny the chemistry that was already building between them.

“I don’t usually like being set up,” she admitted, her voice softening. “But… I guess it depends on the person.”

Fernando’s smile widened slightly, and he took a step closer. “And what do you think of me so far?”

Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat, the intensity of his gaze pulling her in. She smiled, tilting her head slightly as she held his gaze. “I think you might surprise me.”

Fernando’s eyes darkened with interest, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “I hope that’s a good thing.”

Before Y/N could respond, Carmen and George reappeared with mischievous grins on their faces, carrying trays of food.

“Did we miss anything?” George asked, far too casually.

Y/N glanced at Fernando, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “Nothing you two don’t already know.”

time skip

As the race weekend unfolded, it became clear to everyone in the paddock—especially to George and Carmen—that Fernando and Y/N were inseparable. Every free second, whether it was between practice sessions, during lunch breaks, or even casual moments walking through the paddock, they were side by side. Their conversations seemed endless, filled with easy laughter and stolen glances.

George and Carmen watched from the sidelines, their plotting almost becoming a sport of its own.

Friday afternoon

“Look at them,” Carmen whispered to George, nudging him as they stood by the Mercedes garage. Fernando and Y/N were sitting on a bench a few meters away, deep in conversation. Y/N was laughing at something Fernando had said, her face lighting up in a way that was hard to miss.

George smirked, crossing his arms. “I think we’ve done quite a job here.”

Carmen giggled, leaning into him. “You think they even notice how much time they’re spending together?”

“No way. They’re too busy making heart eyes at each other.”

Saturday, after qualifying

As the sun began to dip, the paddock was alive with chatter. Drivers were heading off for briefings, and team members bustled about. But Y/N and Fernando stood off to the side, leaning casually against a wall, completely in their own world.

“So,” Y/N said, leaning closer to him with a teasing smile, “you and George seem to get along surprisingly well. He’s not too annoying for you?”

Fernando chuckled, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “I think I’ve learned to tune him out when he starts talking too much.”

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes. “That’s the secret to dealing with George. He loves the sound of his own voice.”

Fernando raised an eyebrow, his voice dropping just slightly. “And what about you? Are you as good at tuning him out?”

“Sometimes,” Y/N said, biting her lip, her tone playful. “But mostly, I just out-talk him.”

Fernando’s smirk grew, the tension between them unmistakable. “I can’t say I mind that.”

The air between them grew heavier, but before the moment could deepen, George’s voice cut through the tension.

“Hey, lovebirds!” he called out, grinning widely as he approached with Carmen. “Need any more help getting through this weekend together?”

Y/N groaned, laughing despite herself. “You really don’t know when to stop, do you?”

Carmen elbowed George, shooting Y/N and Fernando a playful wink. “Ignore him. He’s just jealous he’s not the center of attention.”

Fernando chuckled, his gaze lingering on Y/N. “I don’t think anyone could take attention away from Y/N.”

Sunday afternoon, post-race

The crowd was roaring as the podium ceremony wrapped up, and Fernando had just claimed an impressive P2. Y/N stood at the edge of the celebration, smiling as she watched him pop the champagne and soak in the cheers from the fans. There was something exhilarating about being part of this world, but today it felt even more electric. Fernando’s win wasn’t the only thing sparking the excitement in the air.

As the drivers made their way off the podium, Fernando spotted Y/N standing by, clapping and grinning at him. His eyes lit up as he made a beeline toward her, weaving through the crowd. Still in his race suit, champagne dripping from his hair, he looked like a man on top of the world.

As the podium celebrations wound down, Fernando made his way through the crowd, eyes scanning for Y/N. He spotted her standing just off to the side, her smile wide as she clapped along with the cheering fans. Despite the chaos surrounding them, she was a steady presence, and he couldn't help but feel drawn to her.

Still in his race suit, with champagne glistening on his hair and skin, he approached her, wiping a hand across his face as he grinned. “Not bad, huh?”

Y/N beamed up at him, her eyes bright. “Not bad at all. You looked like you were in your element out there.”

Fernando chuckled, slightly breathless but clearly energized. “I had some extra motivation.”

“Oh yeah?” Y/N raised an eyebrow, her voice teasing. “And what might that be?”

He took a step closer, the noise of the paddock dimming in his mind. “You.”

Her smile faltered for just a second, surprise flashing in her eyes before she tilted her head, amused. “Me?”

Fernando nodded, his voice lowering as his gaze softened. “Yeah. Being around you this weekend… I haven’t felt like this in a while.”

There was a moment of silence between them, the air heavy with unsaid words. Y/N’s heart was racing, the playful teasing that usually colored their conversations giving way to something deeper.

“Listen,” Fernando said, his voice gentle but sure, “I know this weekend’s been crazy, but if you’re not flying out tomorrow… I’d like to take you out. Just us, somewhere quiet. No paddock noise, no distractions.”

Y/N’s breath hitched slightly, her gaze locking with his. There was something sincere and almost vulnerable in his eyes, and for a moment, she forgot about the crowd, the race, and everything else.

“So,” she began, a small, teasing smile playing on her lips, “you’re asking me out, Alonso?”

Fernando smirked, his usual confidence creeping back as he held her gaze. “I am.”

Y/N bit her lip, her smile widening. “I think I’d like that.”

His eyes brightened with a mix of relief and excitement, the tension between them palpable. “Good. I'll make sure it’s worth your while.”

Y/N stepped a little closer, her voice dropping to match the quiet intimacy of the moment. “I’m counting on it.”

For a brief second, the world around them seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them standing there, caught in the electricity of something new.

As George and Carmen celebrated their success from the sidelines, Fernando and Y/N exchanged a look filled with the kind of tension that only comes when two people know they’re on the edge of something more.

And for once, the noise of the race weekend faded into the background, leaving just the two of them in the moment.

[lowkeycasanova]

the fans love you

i feel like we all know that a lot of vinnie's fans send/spread hate whenever he's simply seen with a girl, but i decided to write this headcanon in which it's the opposite. where the fans absolutely love you

masterlist

————————————————————————-

At first he didn’t know how to approach the situation. You know, finally telling everyone he has a girlfriend. He was also nervous about the reactions. Not that he gave a fuck about what people were to say about him, it was you he was worried about.

And how would he do it? Would he make a tik tok? Would he post a selfie with you on his Instagram story and let people put two and two together?

You told him you didn’t care about what other people thought. Well, maybe deep down you cared a little. Who wouldn’t? But at the end of the day, you couldn’t control what other people said about you and their jealousy.

Vinnie didn’t know the photo had been taken until Jett sent it to him. It was a picture of Vinnie sitting on the couch, you in his lap, kissing each other with your hands caressing his face and his hands wrapped around your waist. Whoever took it was at a distance and zoomed in to take it. It was a chill night at the house. You thought you were alone. Guess not.

Vinnie said, “fuck it”, and posted the picture on Instagram. It was the third picture out of six for his camera roll dump. And tagged you.

You braced yourself for the comments/notifications. Vinnie was giddy with excitement as he knew he just dropped the bomb and there was no going back now.

You told yourself that you were just gonna ignore it for now. Check back in maybe three days.

It hadn’t even been thirty minutes and you opened the app. Disregarding the new activity on your end, you went straight to his comment section.

“oh so we hard launching now?”

“babe, that don’t look like me”

“This was my last straw”

“bout to take a bath with a toaster”

“I’m actually sick”

“Who tf is this?”

“SHES GORGEOUS”

“Y’all acting like he want y’all.”

“You two are so cute!!”

“W post”

Of course there were going to be negative ones. But to your surprise, it wasn’t as bad as you thought. There were also a good number of positive ones.

You go to your notifications and it’s flooded. Again, the negative comments were there. Some asking who you were and why you were with Vinnie. Some putting the throwing up emoji. Nothing that you didn’t expect. Even Vinnie was surprised at the response, so far. He was sure he was gonna have to tell some people off.

In the days to come, he started posting you more since it the relationship was no longer a “secret”. And honestly, it came natural, not looking like he was trying to show everyone he had a girlfriend. He posted you like he would post his friends.

You did the same. Although you both made sure that a lot of things were kept private.

His fans loved that they could see Vinnie from your point of view on your insta story. They loved seeing him act silly while y’all were out to lunch or out shopping because you dragged him. You liked being able to give them that content.

When he would post a video on tik tok and you were in it, some people would be like “she’s OUR gf” and he’d be like “bro what?”

You had an account of your own but wouldn’t post all that often. Vinnie’s fans would comment on his videos, telling him to tell you to post more.

When he streams, he’ll get a lot of “where’s y/n?” comments from viewers. Sometimes they would ask so much that he literally has to say that you’re not even there at the house. He would fake being offended that they weren’t playing attention to his game play. Not that he could blame them. He couldn’t stop thinking about you either.

There would be mail sent to the P.O. box with Vinnie’s name on the packaging label but every single item was for you.

When out in public, fans were just as excited to meet you. You can’t even count how many selfies you took with them.

Even the guy fans. Now, Vinnie isn’t the type to really get jealous, but you could tell something was up by how clingy he got after.

It’s like they loved you more than him and honestly, Vinnie couldn’t have been happier at the turnout.

[storm-angel989]

Can I request a girl dad Vox where his teenage daughter is going through her emo phase. at the same time going through puberty, and she's just at that stage where she's like "I hate you all" and it really hurts Vox because she's always been her little girl and maybe it ends with them making up and just being goofy like watching her favorite movies. Like super daddy's girl esk until then and his world just stops when she starts pulling away. I LOVE GIRL DAD VOX.

This was such a fun request! Thanks for sending!! <3

The attitude shift came overnight. Vox couldn’t pinpoint exactly when his daughter changed her nail polish from pink to black, or when she started to wear only the black pieces from her wardrobe. But he could absolutely remember the first time she snapped at him over a simple question. As she left the breakfast table and slammed the door shut behind her, Vox looked to Valentino and Velvette for guidance. 

“She’s growing up,” Velvette said through sips of her coffee. “Just be patient. Let her come to you and give her space.”

And so, Vox tried. I mean, honestly, he really did try. He let every snarky response, every too loud blast of music pass. Hell, the morning she woke up and poured herself a cup of coffee he almost blew a gasket. She was sixteen, she didn’t need coffee, he started to say, but Valentino cut him off and guided reader back to the kitchen. 

“Cream and sugar, little princessa, will help you get used to the taste,” Valentino said gently. 

Vox heard her mutter something he couldn’t quite make out but her tone certainly sounded rude. He stood up to scold her but Velvette grabbed his hand. 

“Pick your battles, Vox. This isn’t it.” Velvette said. “It’s only a phase.”

And so he gave her as much freedom as he felt he could while still being an active, involved parent. He kept on top of her grades and gave her the space she demanded and he thought for sure that respecting her privacy would get at least an “I love you Daddy,” on occasion. The most he got from her was a slightly less intense look of disdain every time he asked a question or a task of her. It seemed to him Daddy’s Little Girl was no longer. 

The hair dye was the final straw. Pretty brunette turned box dye black in a matter of hours. A bathroom splattered with splotches of black and a sink stained so badly Vox was sure it would never come out. Her beautiful brunette hair was now an odd shade of gray. He felt his anger grow as he saw the remnants of her activities and with a yell, he grabbed her by the hand and pulled her downstairs to Velvelettes studio. 

“Where did you even get this?” Vox asked in frustration as he watched Velvette’s assistant try to scrub the stains from behind her ears. “And why? You had such pretty hair!”

“Why does it matter?” She snapped. “I can do what I want with my body. You can’t stop me.”

“I never said you couldn’t! But you have an entire salon two floors below your bedroom, why didn’t you just say something?” He asked in exasperation as Velvette walked over. 

“Because it’s my body! I just wanted to do something on my own for once without everything questioning me!” She screamed. 

And then she burst into tears. Vox could feel his heart breaking at the sound and pushed the assistant away as he pulled her into his arms. He expected her to push him away, but instead she leaned into his shoulder and cried.

“And now I’m ugly, and my hair sucks and I just, I just…” she let out a hiccuping sob. 

Vox recognized that noise. Even in her teenage years, that cry hadn’t changed. He pressed his hand to the back of her head gently, ignoring the leftover streaks of dye that stained his hands. 

“Hey, hey baby girl. It’s alright, Auntie Vel will get your hair fixed up,” he said as soothingly as he could. 

Velvette glanced up from behind the counter and took her place behind the chair. She gave Vox an encouraging look. 

Vox took a deep breath. Pick my battles, he thought to himself as he held his not so little girl anymore. 

“And I’m sure she’ll dye it black if that’s what you really want,” he conceded finally. 

Another sniffle from the face tucked into his shoulder. 

“Really, you’d let me do that?” She asked as she leaned back and rubbed at her eyes. 

“Only if you promise never to use box dye again,” he replied lightly. “The bathroom is a mess. We might have to repaint the entire thing.” 

She let out a ghost of a smile and he gently dabbed her eyes.

 “There there. No more tears. It’s okay.”

“Daddy? Can I ask you something?” She asked as Velvette quietly took her place behind the chair and began to work her way through the half brunette streaks of hair. 

“Anything, sweetheart.”

“Can…can we redo my room? I don’t want it pink anymore.” She said softly. “Please don’t be mad.”

He could feel his heart breaking for the second time that day, this time for an entirely different reason. She thought he would be mad at her? He tried to think back to when she would get that idea and quickly concluded now wasn’t the best time to analyze his own behavior. Not when he had those pretty blue eyes watching him, waiting desperately for a response. 

“Sure baby girl,” he replied with a kiss to her forehead. “How about we get your hair fixed up and then you and I can do some shopping and redesign the whole thing together tonight? How’s that sound?” 

Her eyes lit up. “That would be amazing! Thank you, Dad!” She stood up from the chair threw her arms around him. 

Velvette gave Vox an approving smile.

“Alright then you two, let's get to work so you guys can go have some fun!” She said cheerfully. 

A few hours later, Vox watched as reader admired her reflection in the mirror. Somewhere, it pained him that she wanted to run so far in the opposite direction. He wondered what he had done to lose her trust.

“Don’t take it personally,” Velvette said softly to Vox as he watched reader run her fingers through her hair. “She’s just trying to find her place in the world.”

“What do I do about the bedroom? I can’t have it all black, it would look awful.” He replied, “but unless I give in…”

“Boundaries, Vox. It’s a reasonable give and take. Sure, painting her entire room back would look awful. And It’s okay to hold an expectation and come to a compromise. Some part of her still wants to know you care about her. She’s just testing her limits. All teenagers do.” Velvette added. “But I would start with designing together on one of you computers and go from there.”

Several hours, zero tears and one phone in pizza order later, Vox and reader sat on the couch. For the first time in a long time, reader was in hysterics as they watched her favorite movie together.

“Hey, Dad?” She asked once she collected herself enough to speak. “I love you.”

Vox tried to keep his cool, but his heart soared. “Love you too,” he replied. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “No matter what happens, I’ll always be your dad.”

[bg-brainrot]

Alone in a Crowded Camp

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Summary: A short Astarion reflection, where he realizes that company isn't so bad.

Tags: Astarion POV, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Hurt/Comfort, Vampire Spawn Astarion, set in Act 3, Astarion is Bad at Feelings

A/N: My ~mood~ persists and I wanted to make this real angsty, but even I couldn’t do that to myself hah. A short little oneshot to try to get me out of my funk!

Word count: ~1.1k

Alone.

Astarion has gotten quite good at being alone.

For two hundred years, he's been surrounded by people– their faces, their bodies, their sickly sweet words and insincere affections. But all along, he has been deeply, achingly alone.

He's had his siblings, ugh, if that's what you could call them. They’ve been a constant, annoying, and at times cruel presence in his life. They’ve felt like a growth he could no more remove than he could ignore. And, through the misery and the pain, he somehow still managed to feel gods awfully alone.

It’s difficult to pinpoint the source of his loneliness. After all, he has nary a moment to himself. But no matter how many people, no matter how frequently he’s with them, something is missing. There is no connection, no kindness, no caring. He simply is alone.

As such, Astarion has grown downright skilled at solitude. A practical art form, he's certain– someone else may call it a method of coping. Either way, it’s not a skill he's comfortable to admit.

Especially not when he suddenly finds himself surrounded once more, veritably drowning in the same disgusting familiarity and the startling newness of companionship. Because this time, he's free. Or as free of Cazador as he's willing to believe for the moment. And his companions don't expect much from him. At least not more than he's willing to provide.

So when he settles into the motley crew, he’s prepared to face the same discordant discomfort of isolation, all while being a hair’s breadth from falling into someone’s bedroll.

Instead, what he finds is an unconventional, at times chaotic, symphony.

The loud sheering sound of weapons being sharpened.

The heat of bodies surrounding a late night campfire.

The beautiful, desperate joy on the faces of those who may not live to see another day.

Astarion soon discovers that, despite the dirt, despite the tentacled doom lingering over his gorgeous head of curls, the boisterous mundanity of daily life is oddly… welcome.

For so long, as long as he can remember honestly, he’d dreaded meeting someone new. Meeting someone new meant as much a death sentence for them as it meant a detestable evening for him, a night lost to his inevitable withdrawal into the deepest darkness he could muster. 

But here, in the warm glow of firelight, the darkness abates. 

Against all of his efforts, he actually learns about the group.

How Lae’zel single-handedly took on her entire crèche while training, how many rooms Gale’s tower boasts back in Waterdeep, how far Wyll’s travels have taken him along the Chionthar, how Shadowheart didn’t need her memories to remember she hated bad wine, how Karlach once defeated a Pit Fiend in the hells themselves. None of them are things he expected to learn, nor care about. But he finds himself listening, chortling along all the same.

And then there’s you.

At first, he’d kept you a careful arm and knife distance away– an asset surely, but just as surely a dangerous one. He’d learned early in his time with Cazador that anyone who could wield both blade and charm was not someone to be trifled with.

What he hadn’t expected was the way that you made him feel: Distinctly not-alone.

Whether it be catching the mischievous twinkle in your eye from across the room or finding himself wrapped in your arms, feeling your body heat slowly seeping into him– he simply can’t understand how you make the world feel so full.

Astarion isn’t sure if he loves this new feeling of overwhelming closeness or misses the solitude. He wonders if he’ll ever feel alone again, and the idea that he may not both thrills and terrifies him.

Because there is something soothing about being alone, a type of insidious succor only his own thoughts provide.

The ache loneliness has carved in his chest is as lingering as it is deeply rooted within him and, like a plant desperately trying to survive, he finds the roots digging deeper and deeper in an attempt to stay grounded.

His moments of actual time to himself have been scarce, of course. So, in his fear, Astarion has gotten used to finding his solitude among the chaos, sequestering himself away from any who might hurt him before such a chance could arise.

Retreating from their kindness, reciprocating with sharply worded barbs, shooting utterly underserved glares in every direction. Their wounded looks mean nothing to him– why should they? They are just another group of strangers, one vampire lord away from becoming another pile of corpses.

However, much like every other of his carefully thought out plans, you are ready to thwart him. For every attempt he makes to withdraw, you’re right there, proving time and again that you are no stranger. Not anymore.

“Astarion.”

It’s a simple thing, his name. The last remnant from a mother he no longer remembers. It sounded wretched upon Cazador’s lips, a curse he could never break. Upon yours though? It may as well be a blessing. 

With that one, simple name, his loneliness is allayed. The roots embedded within him pull back, if only for the moment.

Despite his best efforts, he remembers that he is not alone. Astarion feels at ease.

His heart opens, little by little, and not just to you.

Living hundreds of years as he has, faces had begun to meld together, names began to lose their meaning, voices their distinct candor. But for the first time in a long, long time, he finds himself seeing, listening, connecting to others in a way he no longer believed himself capable of.

It’s… nice. Not that he’ll ever tell the others.

Naturally, his past doesn’t simply up and vanish. His mind still drifts, and he finds himself retreating into the damning safety of solitude from time to time. But each and every time, a hand reaches out– at times jovial, sometimes tentative, other times caring– ready to pull him back to the present.

“Astarion?”

One such hand comes into his field of view, and he takes it instinctively. It’s warm, comforting, and scarred with the beautiful history of an adventurous past. He could get lost in the look and feel of this hand.

“Astarion? Are you alright?”

Your voice is soft, tone gently questioning– yet still worried. Adorable, but you needn’t worry about him. He doubts he’s ever been better.

“Mmm, yes, darling. Quite alright.”

“Good.” 

Your hand squeezes his as you respond and he’s certain that, as long as you’re next to him, he may never feel alone again. Perhaps that’s not such a bad thing after all.