brinasheqrt

[brinasheqrt]

Could you do a fic where Sabrina is a don and comforts fem reader after her parents find out that she’s gay? :3 just a suggestion

Safe With Her

pairings - sabrina carpenter x fem!reader

warnings - some homophobia.

wc - 730

It’s been two hours since the front door slammed behind you.

Your parents’ voices still echo in your head—words you wish you could un-hear. Accusations, disappointment, that quiet kind of heartbreak you hoped you’d never cause.

You’re curled on Sabrina’s couch now, legs tucked under you, arms wrapped around a throw pillow like it’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart. The TV is on but muted. You hadn’t said a word since she picked you up.

Sabrina emerges quietly from the kitchen, barefoot and gentle like she knows the air around you could shatter. She sets down a mug of tea on the coffee table, its warmth curling softly into the quiet room.

She doesn’t ask anything. She just sinks into the couch beside you, her shoulder brushing yours.

You glance at her, your eyes stinging. “They didn’t even let me finish,” you whisper. “I barely got the words out and… it was like I wasn’t even their daughter anymore.”

Sabrina’s eyes darken with sympathy. Her hand finds yours, fingers weaving together. “I’m so sorry, baby,” she murmurs. “You didn’t deserve that. None of it.”

You let out a tiny breath, the kind that trembles at the edge of a sob. “I thought maybe… maybe they’d just need time. But it wasn’t confusion or surprise. It was rejection. Like… like I broke something.”

“You didn’t,” she says firmly, pulling your hand to her chest. “You didn’t break anything. You are not broken.”

Your voice cracks. “But they made me feel like I was.”

Sabrina shifts closer, wrapping both arms around you and guiding you into her chest. You go willingly, burying your face in her sweater, the soft knit smelling like lavender and safety.

“They don’t get to define who you are,” she whispers against your hair. “They don’t get to make you feel small for being brave. Coming out is terrifying, and you still did it. That makes you one of the strongest people I know.”

Tears spill now, silent and steady, soaking into the fabric over her heart. She doesn’t flinch. She just holds you tighter, her hands slow and rhythmic on your back.

“Why is love something people can hate me for?” you murmur.

Sabrina pulls back just enough to look at you, her hands gently cupping your face. “Because they don’t understand yet. But that doesn’t mean your love is wrong. You love with your whole heart. That’s something to be proud of.”

Her thumbs brush beneath your eyes, chasing away the tears even as more fall. You feel her lips press against your forehead.

“You’re safe here,” she says. “With me. For as long as you need.”

You sniffle, nodding slightly, eyes still cast downward. “What if they never accept it? What if they never want me back?”

Sabrina’s voice is steady and warm. “Then I will want you even more. I’ll love you even louder. And my friends, my family—anyone who matters—they will too. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

You look up at her again, and something inside you finally breaks in the right way—not out of pain, but from the sudden, overwhelming feeling of being held when you thought you were falling.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “For not letting me go.”

She smiles softly, resting her forehead against yours. “Never.”

You sit there for a while, just breathing in her calm. The weight on your chest doesn’t vanish, but it gets lighter with her beside you. Eventually, she pulls a blanket around both of you, and you lean into her side again.

Sabrina picks up the remote and turns on your favorite movie without asking.

You don’t know what tomorrow will bring, or how long it’ll take your parents to see the real you without fear or judgment. But right now, in Sabrina’s arms, you remember something they couldn’t take away:

You are loved.

And you are enough.

[brinasheqrt]

new fic tonight !!

[brinasheqrt]

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

Rained Night In

pairings - sabrina carpenter x fem!reader

warnings - none.

wc- 2k

my queen @wol-fica <3 here you are love!

The rain started just before sunset.

You heard it tap against the windows first, soft like fingertips drumming on glass, then a slow roll of thunder cracked through the dimming sky. The lights in the living room glowed warm, a soft amber-yellow blanket over the couch cushions and thick knit throw that you’d already laid out. You didn’t need much for nights like this — just the two of you, a half-charged remote, and something moody playing on the screen while the world softened outside.

Sabrina padded in from the kitchen, barefoot and in one of your hoodies — the sleeves past her hands, the hem brushing her thighs. Her hair was pulled up in a messy little knot, a few honey-colored strands falling around her cheekbones, bangs effortlessly perfect. She gave you this sleepy little smile, the kind she wore when she didn’t want to speak because it would break the quiet spell between you.

“You pick something?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper as she dropped onto the couch beside you, tucking her legs underneath her.

You nodded and gestured at the screen. “Some Studio Ghibli movie. I don’t even care which one. I just wanted something gentle.”

Sabrina didn’t answer. She just curled into your side — warm, tiny, easy — like she’d done it a thousand times before. And she had. But it still hit you like it was the first time every time.

Your arm curled around her shoulders instinctively. She exhaled, her body folding smaller until she was fully pressed against you, her knees tucked to your hip and her cheek resting just below your collarbone. Her fingers toyed absentmindedly with the hem of your shirt.

The thunder rolled again, low and echoing like a drum. The storm wasn’t angry, not yet. Just steady. Comforting, even.

You could feel Sabrina’s breathing even out against you, chest rising and falling in sync with your own. She fit so perfectly into your arms — tiny and weightless and warm. Like she was made to be there.

You didn’t speak.

The movie flickered softly in front of you, scenes of forest spirits and glowing lights dancing across the screen, but your focus barely touched it. Every part of you was tuned into her — the curve of her spine against your side, the way her fingers curled into your hoodie, the soft sound she made when you kissed the top of her head.

“You’re really warm,” she murmured, somewhere around the fifteen-minute mark.

“You always say that,” you whispered back, nudging your nose against her hair.

“That’s because it’s always true,” she said, voice already sleepier, already smaller. “Like a living furnace.”

“Guess that makes you the world’s tiniest blanket thief.”

She smiled — you could feel it against your chest more than see it. Then she shifted just a little, pressing herself closer, if that was even possible.

“I’m not stealing. I’m borrowing.”

“Mhm.”

A beat passed. The rain picked up slightly, tapping faster against the windows like applause.

“…And I’m never giving you back.”

Your heart might’ve actually stuttered. You kissed the crown of her head again, gentler this time, lips lingering.

“I really hope not,” you whispered, and meant it.

You didn’t need her to say anything after that. Neither of you did. That was the magic of nights like this — no rush to fill the silence, no pressure to be charming or clever or awake. Just her, all curled up in your arms like a sleepy cat, soft and safe and home.

She buried her face a little deeper into your hoodie.

Somewhere, the wind blew hard enough to shake the trees. You pulled the blanket tighter over both of you, adjusting it to tuck under her feet. She shivered once, maybe just from the sound.

“I like storms,” she murmured.

“I know.”

“But only with you.”

You smiled so hard your cheeks hurt, but you didn’t laugh. You didn’t want to break the spell. You just reached for her hand under the blanket and laced your fingers with hers. She squeezed once, gentle.

You watched her for a moment instead of the movie. Her lashes fluttered as she blinked slowly, eyes half-lidded, her breath still steady and even. She wasn’t quite asleep, but not far off.

You shifted a little to adjust the pillow behind you, and she instinctively moved with you — her body following yours like it was muscle memory, like she didn’t need to think about it. Her arms found your waist again and her cheek settled into the new crook of your shoulder without complaint.

You chuckled, brushing your fingertips along her spine. “You’re like a heat-seeking cuddle missile.”

“You’re my target,” she mumbled, and it was so dumb and cute that your heart did a full somersault.

She was so small.

So small that she disappeared in your arms, like she was made for being held and protected and loved. And God, you loved her.

The movie continued, soft and whimsical. You weren’t watching it.

“Hey,” you whispered eventually, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Her eyes cracked open slightly. “Mmm?”

“I like storms too.”

She blinked up at you. “…Yeah?”

“Yeah. Because you let me hold you like this.”

A tiny, sleepy smile curved across her lips. “I always let you hold me.”

“I know. But during storms, it feels even more… I don’t know. Real. Like time stops a little.”

She stared at you for a long beat, eyes soft and full of something you didn’t have a name for. Then she reached up and gently cupped your jaw with one hand.

“I don’t think it’s the storm,” she whispered. “I think it’s just us.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

You kissed her without thinking — just a press of lips, soft and slow and honest. The kind of kiss that doesn’t need anything else. The kind of kiss you give someone when you know there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

When you pulled back, she was glowing.

“Okay,” she said quietly, like a vow. “Let’s stay here forever.”

You nodded. “Deal.”

The storm outside deepened, thunder rolling in like a lullaby. The movie faded to its final scenes, gentle music drifting through the air. Neither of you moved.

You were tangled together under the blanket — her tiny body perfectly molded to yours, the heat of her legs tucked against your thigh, her fingers still laced with yours under the fabric.

You felt her breathing slow even more. She was asleep now, really asleep.

You held her just a little tighter, chin resting lightly atop her hair. The rain kept falling, the storm kept singing, and the world outside blurred and softened until it was just you and her and this little golden moment.

Wrapped up. Tucked in. Safe.

And perfect.

[brinasheqrt]

Rained Night In

pairings - sabrina carpenter x fem!reader

warnings - none.

wc- 2k

my queen @wol-fica <3 here you are love!

The rain started just before sunset.

You heard it tap against the windows first, soft like fingertips drumming on glass, then a slow roll of thunder cracked through the dimming sky. The lights in the living room glowed warm, a soft amber-yellow blanket over the couch cushions and thick knit throw that you’d already laid out. You didn’t need much for nights like this — just the two of you, a half-charged remote, and something moody playing on the screen while the world softened outside.

Sabrina padded in from the kitchen, barefoot and in one of your hoodies — the sleeves past her hands, the hem brushing her thighs. Her hair was pulled up in a messy little knot, a few honey-colored strands falling around her cheekbones, bangs effortlessly perfect. She gave you this sleepy little smile, the kind she wore when she didn’t want to speak because it would break the quiet spell between you.

“You pick something?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper as she dropped onto the couch beside you, tucking her legs underneath her.

You nodded and gestured at the screen. “Some Studio Ghibli movie. I don’t even care which one. I just wanted something gentle.”

Sabrina didn’t answer. She just curled into your side — warm, tiny, easy — like she’d done it a thousand times before. And she had. But it still hit you like it was the first time every time.

Your arm curled around her shoulders instinctively. She exhaled, her body folding smaller until she was fully pressed against you, her knees tucked to your hip and her cheek resting just below your collarbone. Her fingers toyed absentmindedly with the hem of your shirt.

The thunder rolled again, low and echoing like a drum. The storm wasn’t angry, not yet. Just steady. Comforting, even.

You could feel Sabrina’s breathing even out against you, chest rising and falling in sync with your own. She fit so perfectly into your arms — tiny and weightless and warm. Like she was made to be there.

You didn’t speak.

The movie flickered softly in front of you, scenes of forest spirits and glowing lights dancing across the screen, but your focus barely touched it. Every part of you was tuned into her — the curve of her spine against your side, the way her fingers curled into your hoodie, the soft sound she made when you kissed the top of her head.

“You’re really warm,” she murmured, somewhere around the fifteen-minute mark.

“You always say that,” you whispered back, nudging your nose against her hair.

“That’s because it’s always true,” she said, voice already sleepier, already smaller. “Like a living furnace.”

“Guess that makes you the world’s tiniest blanket thief.”

She smiled — you could feel it against your chest more than see it. Then she shifted just a little, pressing herself closer, if that was even possible.

“I’m not stealing. I’m borrowing.”

“Mhm.”

A beat passed. The rain picked up slightly, tapping faster against the windows like applause.

“…And I’m never giving you back.”

Your heart might’ve actually stuttered. You kissed the crown of her head again, gentler this time, lips lingering.

“I really hope not,” you whispered, and meant it.

You didn’t need her to say anything after that. Neither of you did. That was the magic of nights like this — no rush to fill the silence, no pressure to be charming or clever or awake. Just her, all curled up in your arms like a sleepy cat, soft and safe and home.

She buried her face a little deeper into your hoodie.

Somewhere, the wind blew hard enough to shake the trees. You pulled the blanket tighter over both of you, adjusting it to tuck under her feet. She shivered once, maybe just from the sound.

“I like storms,” she murmured.

“I know.”

“But only with you.”

You smiled so hard your cheeks hurt, but you didn’t laugh. You didn’t want to break the spell. You just reached for her hand under the blanket and laced your fingers with hers. She squeezed once, gentle.

You watched her for a moment instead of the movie. Her lashes fluttered as she blinked slowly, eyes half-lidded, her breath still steady and even. She wasn’t quite asleep, but not far off.

You shifted a little to adjust the pillow behind you, and she instinctively moved with you — her body following yours like it was muscle memory, like she didn’t need to think about it. Her arms found your waist again and her cheek settled into the new crook of your shoulder without complaint.

You chuckled, brushing your fingertips along her spine. “You’re like a heat-seeking cuddle missile.”

“You’re my target,” she mumbled, and it was so dumb and cute that your heart did a full somersault.

She was so small.

So small that she disappeared in your arms, like she was made for being held and protected and loved. And God, you loved her.

The movie continued, soft and whimsical. You weren’t watching it.

“Hey,” you whispered eventually, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Her eyes cracked open slightly. “Mmm?”

“I like storms too.”

She blinked up at you. “…Yeah?”

“Yeah. Because you let me hold you like this.”

A tiny, sleepy smile curved across her lips. “I always let you hold me.”

“I know. But during storms, it feels even more… I don’t know. Real. Like time stops a little.”

She stared at you for a long beat, eyes soft and full of something you didn’t have a name for. Then she reached up and gently cupped your jaw with one hand.

“I don’t think it’s the storm,” she whispered. “I think it’s just us.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

You kissed her without thinking — just a press of lips, soft and slow and honest. The kind of kiss that doesn’t need anything else. The kind of kiss you give someone when you know there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

When you pulled back, she was glowing.

“Okay,” she said quietly, like a vow. “Let’s stay here forever.”

You nodded. “Deal.”

The storm outside deepened, thunder rolling in like a lullaby. The movie faded to its final scenes, gentle music drifting through the air. Neither of you moved.

You were tangled together under the blanket — her tiny body perfectly molded to yours, the heat of her legs tucked against your thigh, her fingers still laced with yours under the fabric.

You felt her breathing slow even more. She was asleep now, really asleep.

You held her just a little tighter, chin resting lightly atop her hair. The rain kept falling, the storm kept singing, and the world outside blurred and softened until it was just you and her and this little golden moment.

Wrapped up. Tucked in. Safe.

And perfect.

[brinasheqrt]

hi guys

i have a wattpad account (brinasheqrt) and i want to start writing a book BUT i need book ideas. it will be a sabrina carpenter fic but send in ideas if you have any

love you all <33

[brinasheqrt]

thank you so much, i love you

sabrina has just finished a show, she's super tired and since reader is there watching her from backstage, sabrina goes to her right after the show for comfort

Sleepy comfort

pairings - sabrina carpenter x fem!reader

warnings - none.

wc - 1.6k

a/n - i’m proud of this one, enjoy <3

The second the lights go down and the final note of “Espresso” fades into the roaring crowd, Sabrina stumbles back from the edge of the stage like someone’s just cut her strings. Sweat slicks her hair to her temples, strands curling at the nape of her neck. Her gold outfit sparkles under the fading lights, but her steps are slow—more dragging than dancing now.

You’ve been watching from the wings the whole time, arms crossed over your chest, nerves buzzing with pride and worry. She gave everything out there, again. Every song. Every beat. Every note pushed from her chest like it cost her a little more breath than she could afford to lose.

And now, as she turns toward the side of the stage—toward you—you can see the exhaustion hit her like a wall.

She doesn’t say a word when she reaches you. Doesn’t need to. Her body finds yours with instinct, burying her face into your neck, arms wrapped tight around your waist like she’s afraid she might drift off mid-hug if she lets go.

You pull her close, tighter. One hand slides up to the back of her head, fingers threading through her damp hair as she sinks into you completely. You hear her breath catch—not quite a sob, not quite a sigh. Just tired. Bone-deep tired.

“She was amazing,” someone from crew murmurs behind you. But the sound fades like background static. All you’re focused on is the way she’s trembling just a little against you. Not from cold. From everything.

“You killed it, baby,” you whisper into her hair, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “You were fire out there.”

She shakes her head just slightly, a broken little sound slipping out as she exhales. “M’tired,” she mumbles.

“I know,” you murmur. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

But she doesn’t move. Doesn’t even lift her head. Her weight is pressed into you like you’re the only thing holding her up. You cradle her like she’s made of glass and moonlight—delicate but luminous, burning out from the inside.

“I was so tired during the last chorus,” she confesses, voice muffled. “My legs were shaking. I thought I was gonna fall.”

You wrap both arms around her shoulders and hold her tighter. “You didn’t fall. You stood tall, baby. You finished strong. But you don’t have to be strong now, okay? You can just rest.”

It takes a while before she lets you guide her toward her dressing room. Not because she’s resisting—because she’s barely standing.

You keep an arm around her as you walk, shielding her from the buzz of crew rushing to break down gear. Some of them glance her way, offering small smiles, thumbs up, soft “Good show, Sabrina,” as she passes. She doesn’t respond, just clutches the front of your hoodie like it’s an anchor.

Once inside her dressing room, the door shuts behind you with a soft click, muffling the chaos outside.

She kicks off her boots with a groan and immediately sinks onto the plush couch. She slouches into the corner, head thrown back, arms limp at her sides, looking like someone who’s given the world all she had and got nothing left.

You kneel in front of her, gently pushing her sweat-matted bangs off her forehead. “Want water? A snack? Anything?”

She shakes her head, eyes still closed. “Just you,” she whispers.

So you stay. You slip her jacket - that someone gave her backstage - off her shoulders with gentle fingers, revealing the fitted crop top beneath, her chest still rising and falling a little too fast.

She blinks her eyes open slowly. “I saw you, y’know,” she says hoarsely. “Backstage. Every time I looked over, you were there.”

You smile, brushing your thumb across her cheekbone. “Where else would I be?”

Her lips curve just barely, like she’s too tired to form a real smile. But her eyes are soft, shining with that mix of gratitude and love that always stuns you.

“You’re always there,” she whispers. “Even when I feel like I’m about to break.”

You don’t respond with words. You lean forward and press your lips gently to hers. It’s slow, warm, the kind of kiss that says I’ve got you, not I want you. She melts into it, sighs against your mouth, one hand coming up to rest against your chest, clutching the fabric of your hoodie.

When you pull back, her eyes flutter open again.

“C’mere,” she says, voice quiet and gravelly.

You climb onto the couch beside her and she immediately curls into your side, tucking her face into the crook of your neck like she’s trying to disappear into you.

“I left everything on that stage,” she mumbles.

“I know. I saw. You lit it up, Sab. But you don’t have to perform for me now. You can just be.”

She nods slowly, fingers curling into your hoodie again.

There’s a small silence. Not awkward—just heavy. Weighted by exhaustion and relief.

Then she murmurs, “My throat hurts.”

You brush your knuckles across her jaw. “Want me to make you some tea back at the hotel?”

“Only if you carry me.”

You chuckle, the sound low and fond. “Deal.”

She falls quiet again. Her breathing evens out little by little, the adrenaline finally draining from her system. You can feel her heartbeat start to slow against your side.

And then, soft as a breath: “You’re my safe place.”

That one hits you right in the chest. You look down at her, eyes wide, heart stuttering.

“I mean it,” she adds. “Out there, it’s loud, and bright, and it feels like… like I have to be on every second. But when I see you—when I get to come back to you—everything feels quiet. Easy. Like I can breathe again.”

You pull her even closer, lips brushing the top of her head. “That’s all I ever want to be for you.”

She hums, fingers tracing circles over your stomach through the fabric of your hoodie.

You both stay like that for a long while. No more noise. No more lights. Just the slow, steady rhythm of her breathing syncing with yours. The quiet hum of the AC. The comfort of knowing that for once, she doesn’t have to carry the show. She can just lean on you.

Eventually, she shifts, legs sliding over your lap, arms wrapping fully around your torso like she’s decided she’s not moving ever again.

“You’re not going anywhere, are you?” she asks sleepily.

“Never.”

She nods once, satisfied, and nestles her cheek against your shoulder. “Good. I’m too tired to pretend right now.”

“You don’t ever have to pretend with me, baby.”

There’s a pause. Then she murmurs, “I love you.”

It’s quiet. Raw. No performance. No breathy stage voice. Just Sabrina, stripped down to the softest parts.

You press a kiss to her forehead. “I love you more.”

She smiles against your neck. You can feel it, like sunlight breaking through heavy clouds.

You don’t know how long you sit like that—her in your arms, your hands stroking her back, her breathing growing softer and heavier until it starts to lull you too. But you do know this: she gave herself to thousands of people tonight, but in the end, she came running to you.

And there’s no applause that will ever mean more than that.

[brinasheqrt]

thank you so much <3 ily

sabrina has just finished a show, she's super tired and since reader is there watching her from backstage, sabrina goes to her right after the show for comfort

Sleepy comfort

pairings - sabrina carpenter x fem!reader

warnings - none.

wc - 1.6k

a/n - i’m proud of this one, enjoy <3

The second the lights go down and the final note of “Espresso” fades into the roaring crowd, Sabrina stumbles back from the edge of the stage like someone’s just cut her strings. Sweat slicks her hair to her temples, strands curling at the nape of her neck. Her gold outfit sparkles under the fading lights, but her steps are slow—more dragging than dancing now.

You’ve been watching from the wings the whole time, arms crossed over your chest, nerves buzzing with pride and worry. She gave everything out there, again. Every song. Every beat. Every note pushed from her chest like it cost her a little more breath than she could afford to lose.

And now, as she turns toward the side of the stage—toward you—you can see the exhaustion hit her like a wall.

She doesn’t say a word when she reaches you. Doesn’t need to. Her body finds yours with instinct, burying her face into your neck, arms wrapped tight around your waist like she’s afraid she might drift off mid-hug if she lets go.

You pull her close, tighter. One hand slides up to the back of her head, fingers threading through her damp hair as she sinks into you completely. You hear her breath catch—not quite a sob, not quite a sigh. Just tired. Bone-deep tired.

“She was amazing,” someone from crew murmurs behind you. But the sound fades like background static. All you’re focused on is the way she’s trembling just a little against you. Not from cold. From everything.

“You killed it, baby,” you whisper into her hair, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “You were fire out there.”

She shakes her head just slightly, a broken little sound slipping out as she exhales. “M’tired,” she mumbles.

“I know,” you murmur. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

But she doesn’t move. Doesn’t even lift her head. Her weight is pressed into you like you’re the only thing holding her up. You cradle her like she’s made of glass and moonlight—delicate but luminous, burning out from the inside.

“I was so tired during the last chorus,” she confesses, voice muffled. “My legs were shaking. I thought I was gonna fall.”

You wrap both arms around her shoulders and hold her tighter. “You didn’t fall. You stood tall, baby. You finished strong. But you don’t have to be strong now, okay? You can just rest.”

It takes a while before she lets you guide her toward her dressing room. Not because she’s resisting—because she’s barely standing.

You keep an arm around her as you walk, shielding her from the buzz of crew rushing to break down gear. Some of them glance her way, offering small smiles, thumbs up, soft “Good show, Sabrina,” as she passes. She doesn’t respond, just clutches the front of your hoodie like it’s an anchor.

Once inside her dressing room, the door shuts behind you with a soft click, muffling the chaos outside.

She kicks off her boots with a groan and immediately sinks onto the plush couch. She slouches into the corner, head thrown back, arms limp at her sides, looking like someone who’s given the world all she had and got nothing left.

You kneel in front of her, gently pushing her sweat-matted bangs off her forehead. “Want water? A snack? Anything?”

She shakes her head, eyes still closed. “Just you,” she whispers.

So you stay. You slip her jacket - that someone gave her backstage - off her shoulders with gentle fingers, revealing the fitted crop top beneath, her chest still rising and falling a little too fast.

She blinks her eyes open slowly. “I saw you, y’know,” she says hoarsely. “Backstage. Every time I looked over, you were there.”

You smile, brushing your thumb across her cheekbone. “Where else would I be?”

Her lips curve just barely, like she’s too tired to form a real smile. But her eyes are soft, shining with that mix of gratitude and love that always stuns you.

“You’re always there,” she whispers. “Even when I feel like I’m about to break.”

You don’t respond with words. You lean forward and press your lips gently to hers. It’s slow, warm, the kind of kiss that says I’ve got you, not I want you. She melts into it, sighs against your mouth, one hand coming up to rest against your chest, clutching the fabric of your hoodie.

When you pull back, her eyes flutter open again.

“C’mere,” she says, voice quiet and gravelly.

You climb onto the couch beside her and she immediately curls into your side, tucking her face into the crook of your neck like she’s trying to disappear into you.

“I left everything on that stage,” she mumbles.

“I know. I saw. You lit it up, Sab. But you don’t have to perform for me now. You can just be.”

She nods slowly, fingers curling into your hoodie again.

There’s a small silence. Not awkward—just heavy. Weighted by exhaustion and relief.

Then she murmurs, “My throat hurts.”

You brush your knuckles across her jaw. “Want me to make you some tea back at the hotel?”

“Only if you carry me.”

You chuckle, the sound low and fond. “Deal.”

She falls quiet again. Her breathing evens out little by little, the adrenaline finally draining from her system. You can feel her heartbeat start to slow against your side.

And then, soft as a breath: “You’re my safe place.”

That one hits you right in the chest. You look down at her, eyes wide, heart stuttering.

“I mean it,” she adds. “Out there, it’s loud, and bright, and it feels like… like I have to be on every second. But when I see you—when I get to come back to you—everything feels quiet. Easy. Like I can breathe again.”

You pull her even closer, lips brushing the top of her head. “That’s all I ever want to be for you.”

She hums, fingers tracing circles over your stomach through the fabric of your hoodie.

You both stay like that for a long while. No more noise. No more lights. Just the slow, steady rhythm of her breathing syncing with yours. The quiet hum of the AC. The comfort of knowing that for once, she doesn’t have to carry the show. She can just lean on you.

Eventually, she shifts, legs sliding over your lap, arms wrapping fully around your torso like she’s decided she’s not moving ever again.

“You’re not going anywhere, are you?” she asks sleepily.

“Never.”

She nods once, satisfied, and nestles her cheek against your shoulder. “Good. I’m too tired to pretend right now.”

“You don’t ever have to pretend with me, baby.”

There’s a pause. Then she murmurs, “I love you.”

It’s quiet. Raw. No performance. No breathy stage voice. Just Sabrina, stripped down to the softest parts.

You press a kiss to her forehead. “I love you more.”

She smiles against your neck. You can feel it, like sunlight breaking through heavy clouds.

You don’t know how long you sit like that—her in your arms, your hands stroking her back, her breathing growing softer and heavier until it starts to lull you too. But you do know this: she gave herself to thousands of people tonight, but in the end, she came running to you.

And there’s no applause that will ever mean more than that.

[brinasheqrt]

sabrina has just finished a show, she's super tired and since reader is there watching her from backstage, sabrina goes to her right after the show for comfort

Sleepy comfort

pairings - sabrina carpenter x fem!reader

warnings - none.

wc - 1.6k

a/n - i’m proud of this one, enjoy <3

The second the lights go down and the final note of “Espresso” fades into the roaring crowd, Sabrina stumbles back from the edge of the stage like someone’s just cut her strings. Sweat slicks her hair to her temples, strands curling at the nape of her neck. Her gold outfit sparkles under the fading lights, but her steps are slow—more dragging than dancing now.

You’ve been watching from the wings the whole time, arms crossed over your chest, nerves buzzing with pride and worry. She gave everything out there, again. Every song. Every beat. Every note pushed from her chest like it cost her a little more breath than she could afford to lose.

And now, as she turns toward the side of the stage—toward you—you can see the exhaustion hit her like a wall.

She doesn’t say a word when she reaches you. Doesn’t need to. Her body finds yours with instinct, burying her face into your neck, arms wrapped tight around your waist like she’s afraid she might drift off mid-hug if she lets go.

You pull her close, tighter. One hand slides up to the back of her head, fingers threading through her damp hair as she sinks into you completely. You hear her breath catch—not quite a sob, not quite a sigh. Just tired. Bone-deep tired.

“She was amazing,” someone from crew murmurs behind you. But the sound fades like background static. All you’re focused on is the way she’s trembling just a little against you. Not from cold. From everything.

“You killed it, baby,” you whisper into her hair, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “You were fire out there.”

She shakes her head just slightly, a broken little sound slipping out as she exhales. “M’tired,” she mumbles.

“I know,” you murmur. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

But she doesn’t move. Doesn’t even lift her head. Her weight is pressed into you like you’re the only thing holding her up. You cradle her like she’s made of glass and moonlight—delicate but luminous, burning out from the inside.

“I was so tired during the last chorus,” she confesses, voice muffled. “My legs were shaking. I thought I was gonna fall.”

You wrap both arms around her shoulders and hold her tighter. “You didn’t fall. You stood tall, baby. You finished strong. But you don’t have to be strong now, okay? You can just rest.”

It takes a while before she lets you guide her toward her dressing room. Not because she’s resisting—because she’s barely standing.

You keep an arm around her as you walk, shielding her from the buzz of crew rushing to break down gear. Some of them glance her way, offering small smiles, thumbs up, soft “Good show, Sabrina,” as she passes. She doesn’t respond, just clutches the front of your hoodie like it’s an anchor.

Once inside her dressing room, the door shuts behind you with a soft click, muffling the chaos outside.

She kicks off her boots with a groan and immediately sinks onto the plush couch. She slouches into the corner, head thrown back, arms limp at her sides, looking like someone who’s given the world all she had and got nothing left.

You kneel in front of her, gently pushing her sweat-matted bangs off her forehead. “Want water? A snack? Anything?”

She shakes her head, eyes still closed. “Just you,” she whispers.

So you stay. You slip her jacket - that someone gave her backstage - off her shoulders with gentle fingers, revealing the fitted crop top beneath, her chest still rising and falling a little too fast.

She blinks her eyes open slowly. “I saw you, y’know,” she says hoarsely. “Backstage. Every time I looked over, you were there.”

You smile, brushing your thumb across her cheekbone. “Where else would I be?”

Her lips curve just barely, like she’s too tired to form a real smile. But her eyes are soft, shining with that mix of gratitude and love that always stuns you.

“You’re always there,” she whispers. “Even when I feel like I’m about to break.”

You don’t respond with words. You lean forward and press your lips gently to hers. It’s slow, warm, the kind of kiss that says I’ve got you, not I want you. She melts into it, sighs against your mouth, one hand coming up to rest against your chest, clutching the fabric of your hoodie.

When you pull back, her eyes flutter open again.

“C’mere,” she says, voice quiet and gravelly.

You climb onto the couch beside her and she immediately curls into your side, tucking her face into the crook of your neck like she’s trying to disappear into you.

“I left everything on that stage,” she mumbles.

“I know. I saw. You lit it up, Sab. But you don’t have to perform for me now. You can just be.”

She nods slowly, fingers curling into your hoodie again.

There’s a small silence. Not awkward—just heavy. Weighted by exhaustion and relief.

Then she murmurs, “My throat hurts.”

You brush your knuckles across her jaw. “Want me to make you some tea back at the hotel?”

“Only if you carry me.”

You chuckle, the sound low and fond. “Deal.”

She falls quiet again. Her breathing evens out little by little, the adrenaline finally draining from her system. You can feel her heartbeat start to slow against your side.

And then, soft as a breath: “You’re my safe place.”

That one hits you right in the chest. You look down at her, eyes wide, heart stuttering.

“I mean it,” she adds. “Out there, it’s loud, and bright, and it feels like… like I have to be on every second. But when I see you—when I get to come back to you—everything feels quiet. Easy. Like I can breathe again.”

You pull her even closer, lips brushing the top of her head. “That’s all I ever want to be for you.”

She hums, fingers tracing circles over your stomach through the fabric of your hoodie.

You both stay like that for a long while. No more noise. No more lights. Just the slow, steady rhythm of her breathing syncing with yours. The quiet hum of the AC. The comfort of knowing that for once, she doesn’t have to carry the show. She can just lean on you.

Eventually, she shifts, legs sliding over your lap, arms wrapping fully around your torso like she’s decided she’s not moving ever again.

“You’re not going anywhere, are you?” she asks sleepily.

“Never.”

She nods once, satisfied, and nestles her cheek against your shoulder. “Good. I’m too tired to pretend right now.”

“You don’t ever have to pretend with me, baby.”

There’s a pause. Then she murmurs, “I love you.”

It’s quiet. Raw. No performance. No breathy stage voice. Just Sabrina, stripped down to the softest parts.

You press a kiss to her forehead. “I love you more.”

She smiles against your neck. You can feel it, like sunlight breaking through heavy clouds.

You don’t know how long you sit like that—her in your arms, your hands stroking her back, her breathing growing softer and heavier until it starts to lull you too. But you do know this: she gave herself to thousands of people tonight, but in the end, she came running to you.

And there’s no applause that will ever mean more than that.

[brinasheqrt]

guys i need anons to talk to — if you wanna claim your space with an emoji ttm! <3

[brinasheqrt]

elle i miss you it's been years

omg hey i’m still alive

posted a fic today btw <3

[brinasheqrt]

hiya!

can i request a lil smth with a super clingy reader at an album listening party for sabrina? preferably with reader being taller, but ill take anything!!

Clingy

pairings - sabrina carpenter x fem!tall!reader

warnings - none.

wc - 1.4k

You weren’t exactly the party type—especially not in a venue this crowded, this loud, and this industry—but you were the type to show up anywhere if it meant being with your girl. And tonight was a big night for her.

Sabrina’s album listening party was being held in a candle-lit loft in the city, all high ceilings and moody lighting, with low velvet couches and tables stacked with catered finger food neither of you would ever touch. Celebrities buzzed around the room, laughing, sipping cocktails, and offering congratulations with that well-practiced L.A. charm. You weren’t one of them. You were just the girlfriend in love with the woman of the hour.

And the woman of the hour looked breathtaking.

Sabrina was wearing this tiny baby blue dress, silky and backless, with a low dip that made your jaw clench and your arms ache to wrap around her waist. Her hair was perfectly curled, her eyes smokey, and her lips glossed in a soft pink that was already a little smudged—because, well, you couldn’t help yourself in the car earlier.

The problem was, everyone wanted a piece of her tonight.

You tried to be patient. You leaned against the bar as she mingled across the room, laughing in little bursts that made your stomach flutter and your skin buzz with jealousy. You had your hand shoved in your pocket, the other clutched around your drink, tapping against the glass while trying to keep your eyes off her legs. Every time someone touched her arm too long, or leaned in too close, your jaw ticked.

You’d given her twenty minutes of space. That was generous, for you.

And then—without shame or apology—you crossed the room and claimed her like a moth to flame.

“Hi, baby,” you murmured, sliding in behind her and wrapping your arms fully around her waist, tugging her back against your chest. You lowered your mouth to the curve of her neck, letting your lips graze the spot just below her ear.

Sabrina tilted her head and giggled, instantly relaxing against you. “Took you long enough.”

“Didn’t want to be too clingy,” you said, resting your chin on her shoulder, even though you knew damn well that was exactly what you were.

She reached back to stroke her fingers through your hair. “You’re always clingy.”

“And you love it.”

“I do.” She turned her head, kissed your cheek, and leaned even more of her weight into you. “God, I’ve been looking for you.”

You hummed, smug and satisfied, squeezing her tighter. “You were surrounded. Like a pop star queen.”

“Let me escape now,” she whispered, like it was your shared little secret. “Rescue me.”

You didn’t hesitate. You looped your arm around her waist and steered her toward the farthest corner of the room, behind a curtain of dangling lightbulbs and a decorative column that at least gave the illusion of privacy. As soon as you reached it, you leaned your back against the wall and pulled her in so she was nestled fully between your legs.

She smiled up at you, her eyes all glowy and mischievous. “Hi.”

“Hi, pretty girl.” You bent and kissed her nose, then her temple. “You look like sin.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. “You look like you’re going to get me in trouble.”

You gave her a sly smile and slid your hands down her back, resting just at the base of her spine. “You’re mine tonight. That’s all I know.”

That made her eyes soften—genuine now, not teasing. She reached up and cupped your cheek. “I am yours. Always.”

You could feel your heartbeat slow a little, like her voice was the only thing grounding you in the chaos of the night.

She leaned up on her toes and whispered, “Jealous, weren’t you?”

You raised a brow. “Jealous of who?”

“Everyone. You get grabby when you’re possessive.”

You grinned and kissed her jaw, then her neck, lingering there until she squirmed. “I get grabby because I want your attention.”

“You have it.”

You brushed her hair behind her ear and took in the way her lashes fluttered when you looked at her like that. You kissed her again, softer this time, and she melted completely into you. You could’ve stood there all night—her pressed up against you, her perfume in your nose, the feel of her body fitting so perfectly into yours.

But of course, someone had to interrupt.

“Sab, they’re doing the toast in five!” Paloma called from across the room.

Sabrina groaned and tucked her face into your chest. “Nooo. I don’t wanna leave you.”

You chuckled and cupped the back of her head. “Go do your thing. I’ll be right here.”

She looked up at you, pouting a little. “You promise you’ll come find me after?”

“Five minutes, tops.”

“I’ll miss you the entire time,” she said, and you knew she meant it.

You kissed her forehead and smoothed her hair down. “Go be the star. I’ll be your stalker in the corner.”

“You’re the best stalker.”

“World class.”

With one last, lingering kiss (and a subtle butt squeeze that made her squeal and slap your chest), she disappeared back into the crowd. You watched her go, your whole body already itching to follow, already craving the feeling of her weight against you again.

You waited exactly three minutes before weaving your way back through the party, ignoring whatever awkward side-eye people gave you as you unapologetically beelined for Sabrina again. She was mid-toast, standing beside her team, holding a glass of champagne and glowing with pride.

You stepped in quietly behind her, slid your hand into hers, and rested your chin on her shoulder like it was second nature. She didn’t even flinch. She laced your fingers together and kept talking, her voice steady even as she leaned into your hold.

After the toast, she turned into you fully and murmured, “I feel safe when you’re close.”

You tightened your grip on her hand and smiled against her cheek. “Then I’ll never leave your side.”

[brinasheqrt]

reader being super stressed while studying for college exams, sabrina notices and calms her down, making her take a break from studying

ofc course my love! enjoy <3

In Her Arms

pairings - sabrina carpenter x fem!reader

warnings - stress

wc - 1.5k

Your desk looked like a battlefield.

Crumpled flashcards, open textbooks with pages dog-eared at the corners, pens with caps long gone, a half-finished latte that had gone cold hours ago. Your laptop sat in the middle like a commander, its blue light casting shadows under your eyes. You blinked at the screen, your fingers hovering over the keyboard like they’d forgotten what they were supposed to do.

Your mind was loud—too loud. Equations, dates, facts, terms… they swirled and tangled, like smoke refusing to clear. You hadn’t moved in two hours, and your shoulders were stiff with tension, your jaw sore from being clenched without realizing. You were so deep into the spiral that you didn’t even hear her walk in.

It wasn’t until her voice, soft as windchimes, brushed past your ears that you flinched.

“Baby?”

You turned, and there she was. Sabrina. Wrapped in an oversized cardigan and one of your hoodies, barefoot, hair messy from the nap you’d encouraged her to take earlier. She looked at you like you were a puzzle she was desperate to solve. Her brows pinched together slightly, mouth tugging down into a worried pout.

“Are you okay?”

You tried to smile—tried to brush it off with a wave of your hand. “Yeah. Just… studying.”

She didn’t buy it for a second.

Without a word, she padded over to you and slid her hands onto your shoulders from behind, thumbs gently pressing into your knots. You exhaled—sharp and shaky—and leaned back into her touch like it was the only solid thing in your world.

“Your muscles are screaming at me right now,” she murmured, lips brushing your temple. “When’s the last time you moved?”

“I don’t know. Couple hours ago?” You glanced at the clock. It had been five. Your voice cracked when you added, “I just… I need to get through this material. There’s so much. My exam’s in two days and I’m still behind—”

“Hey,” she whispered, moving to crouch beside your chair so you were face to face. “Look at me.”

You did. Her eyes were soft with concern, but there was a steadiness there too—an anchor. You wanted to fall into them and not come out until finals season was over.

“You’re pushing yourself too hard again, aren’t you?” she asked. “When was the last time you ate something real? Or drank water?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it again.

Sabrina sighed and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “That’s what I thought.”

“I just don’t want to fail,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “I feel like everything I’m doing still isn’t enough. Like I’m… behind. Constantly.”

Her expression softened even more—if that was possible. “Sweetheart,” she murmured, standing up and pulling you into her arms, “you are doing so much. And your brain deserves a break.”

“But—”

“Nope,” she said gently, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “No ‘but’s. You can’t pour from an empty cup. Come on. Step away from the war zone.”

She tugged you up from the chair before you could protest, her fingers laced with yours, warm and grounding. You resisted slightly—out of guilt, more than anything—but she only pulled you closer, wrapping her arms around your waist once she had you standing.

“You’re gonna come lie down with me,” she said softly. “Just for a little. No studying. No pressure. Just me and you and some deep breaths. Okay?”

You wanted to protest again. But you didn’t.

Instead, you nodded, pressing your face into her neck and letting her guide you toward the couch. She dragged a cozy blanket from the edge, fluffed a pillow behind your back, and then climbed in next to you—pulling you on top of her like she was the softest mattress in the world.

You let yourself melt against her.

Her fingers threaded into your hair and scratched gently at your scalp. The rhythm of her touch made your chest unclench for the first time all day. Her other hand rubbed slow circles into your back, humming a tune you didn’t recognize but instantly fell in love with.

It was quiet.

Just her heartbeat under your ear. The smell of lavender in her cardigan. The warmth of her breath against your temple.

“You don’t have to carry it all alone,” she said softly, breaking the silence. “I know how heavy it gets in that head of yours. Let me hold some of it, okay?”

“I feel guilty,” you whispered. “Taking a break.”

She pulled back slightly just to look at you, fingers brushing your cheek. “You don’t have to earn rest, baby. You’re a human being. Not a machine.”

You blinked fast. The tears caught you off guard.

Sabrina noticed immediately, wiping them away with her thumbs like they were made of glass. “Oh, love…” she whispered, kissing the corners of your eyes. “You don’t have to be perfect for me. Or for anyone.”

You shook your head, voice thick. “I just want to make you proud.”

“You already do,” she said, like it was the most obvious truth in the universe. “I’m proud of you every time you get out of bed. Every time you try, even when it’s hard. You don’t need straight A’s to impress me. You impress me just by being you.”

You buried your face in her neck again, arms winding around her waist like she was your lifeline. Her fingers didn’t stop moving through your hair.

“You’re my safe place,” you whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She kissed the top of your head again. “Luckily for you, you’re stuck with me.”

A soft laugh puffed against her collarbone. “Forever?”

“Forever and then some.”

You stayed like that for a long time. At some point, she reached over to the side table and grabbed your water bottle, urging you to take slow sips between kisses to your forehead. Then she asked if you wanted food—real food—and when you mumbled a hesitant “maybe,” she smiled and said, “I’m making you toast and eggs. No debate.”

Eventually, you got up. But only because she made you pinky-promise to come back and cuddle the second you were fed.

When you returned, the war zone at your desk didn’t seem quite so menacing. Not when you had a warm plate in your lap, a glass of juice in your hand, and Sabrina curled up next to you, her head on your shoulder, humming softly to whatever lo-fi playlist she’d put on in the background.

“I love you,” you whispered.

She smiled against your skin. “I love you more.”

[brinasheqrt]

i understand the assignment🫡 wouldn't want your inbox to be empty, ma'am.

would you ever be open to doing a fluffy fic of sabrina stealing reader's hoodies, even if they're huuuge on her?

yayy! here you go <3

[brinasheqrt]

Hoodie Stealer

pairings - sabrina carpenter x fem!reader

warnings - none at all!

wc - 552

a/n- a little short but its so fluffy :)



You come home from work to the distinct smell of popcorn and the soft hum of Taylor Swift’s Lover playing from the kitchen speaker.

You toe your shoes off, toss your keys in the dish by the door, and immediately notice something suspicious: your favorite navy hoodie is missing from the coat rack.

Again.

You narrow your eyes.

“Sabrina.”

From the couch, there’s a muffled “Yeah?” followed by the unmistakable rustling of fleece and blankets. You round the corner and your heart does that thing it always does when you see her.

She’s curled up like a sleepy kitten, knees tucked to her chest, swimming in your hoodie like it’s a damn weighted blanket. The sleeves hang way past her fingertips, and the hem is nearly down to her knees. The hood’s up, almost completely covering her head like she’s a shy little mushroom.

“You’re doing it again,” you say, biting your lip to stop from smiling.

Sabrina turns her face toward you, eyes wide, caught. “Doing what?”

You raise an eyebrow, stepping closer. “That’s my hoodie.”

“No, it’s my emotional support hoodie,” she says seriously, hugging her knees tighter. “You don’t need it the way I do.”

You deadpan. “You own, like, six hoodies. Most of which you’ve also stolen from me.”

“Borrowed,” she corrects sweetly. “With intention to never return.”

You roll your eyes and sit next to her, and she immediately scoots into your side like a magnet. The scent of your laundry detergent mixed with her vanilla perfume clings to the hoodie’s fabric.

“You know you look ridiculous in that, right?” you murmur, letting your hand rest on her thigh.

“Do not insult my fashion choices. This is cozy couture.”

“You’re swimming in it.”

“I like swimming,” she mumbles, head resting on your shoulder now. “And I like smelling like you.”

Oh.

Oh.

Your heart does the thing again, the little hiccup it’s made only for her. “You could just ask for a hug.”

“I could,” she says, snuggling impossibly closer. “But then I’d have to let go to pee or do things. This way, I get a wearable hug and look like a cute lost child.”

You snort. “You really are a menace.”

She tilts her head up to look at you, cheeks warm and soft. “Yeah, but I’m your menace.”

You kiss her forehead because you’re helpless, obviously. “You can keep it,” you whisper.

She grins. “I already planned on it.”

[brinasheqrt]

my inbox is empty guys

[brinasheqrt]

could u do a fic where reader has mommy issues and sabrina comforts her? like, readers mom has trouble accepting that reader js more masc than fem.. (brina and reader are not minors - maybe readers mom could've called her and they fighted and reader got triggered by it)

here you go!

[brinasheqrt]

Mommy Issues

pairings - sabrina carpenter x masc!reader

warnings - swearing, gender identity struggles and emotional distress

wc: 2k

You sat at the edge of your bed, staring at your phone in disbelief. The buzzing of your screen felt like a warning, a loud, chaotic signal that you weren’t prepared for. Not today.

It was your mom. You hadn’t heard from her in days, but you knew. You always knew when she’d be reaching out, and now here it was.

You swiped the screen and answered with a forced calmness, bracing yourself for whatever was coming.

“Hello?” Your voice was tight.

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” Her voice was sharp, immediately cutting through the air. “I don’t even recognize you anymore.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. “What do you mean, Mom?”

There was a long pause, and you could feel her disappointment over the line, sharp enough to make your chest ache. “This whole… thing with your appearance. It’s not just clothes, you cut your hair, you slouch like you’re trying to hide your chest. You don’t wear makeup anymore. You just look… sad. And wrong. That’s not the girl I raised.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. You had braced yourself for this exact conversation, but it still hurt, every word like a jagged knife against your skin.

“I am who you raised, Mom,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’ve just grown up. This is me now.”

“You were always so pretty when you dressed like a girl. Sabrina’s so beautiful in her outfits, so feminine—why can’t you—” she snapped.

You felt your breath catch. “Don’t. Don’t bring her into this.”

Another pause. Her voice softened, but it wasn’t comforting. “I miss my daughter. You look like a boy, not a woman. Maybe if you put in a little effort—”

“Stop,” you interrupted, your chest tightening. “Stop trying to change me.”

But she didn’t hear you, or maybe she didn’t care. “Maybe you need therapy. I’m just saying it wouldn’t kill you to look like a couple. Right now, it looks like Sabrina’s dating her male cousin.”

That one landed. It knocked the breath from your lungs, and your silence must’ve said enough. Your hands shook.

“I just want you to look like the person you’re supposed to be. Not this… this stranger.”

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you fought them back. “I’m not a stranger, Mom. I’m your daughter. But I’m not going to be what you want me to be. I’m not.”

There was silence on the other end, long enough to feel like she was pulling away from you even more. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter, more distant.

“I don’t know how to be your mother if you’re not the person I raised.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to fight, to make her understand, but you couldn’t—because every word she said was like a wound in your chest, and you couldn’t keep going.

“I have to go,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you hung up the phone.

You couldn’t stop shaking when the call ended. Every word your mother had said echoed in your head like a constant wave crashing against the shore, pushing you further down.

⸻

You were standing in the living room, staring at the phone screen in your hand, when the door opened. Sabrina stepped inside, her hair messy from the breeze outside, her expression soft when she saw you standing there, frozen. The moment she caught sight of you, she dropped her bag on the counter and crossed the room quickly.

“Hey,” she said gently, her voice warm and soft. “What happened? I—”

She must have seen the way your hands were shaking, the glassy look in your eyes, because she stopped mid-sentence and pulled you into her arms.

You didn’t even try to hold back. You buried your face in her shoulder and let out a sob you didn’t even realize you were holding back. Sabrina’s arms tightened around you, and you could hear the soft words she murmured against your hair.

“I’ve got you. I’m here.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to keep yourself together, but the words your mom had said kept playing over and over in your mind. “She—she just… doesn’t get it. She thinks I’m doing all of this to be like someone else, but it’s just me. This is me. And she—she—she doesn’t want to see it.”

Sabrina pulled back slightly, her hands cupping your face so she could look you in the eye. “Listen to me. You’re allowed to be whoever you are. You don’t have to fit into a box for her or anyone else. You’re not doing this for anyone but you.”

You let out a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, but it felt like every word your mom had said still stung. “I just want her to love me for me. I just want her to see me for who I really am.”

Sabrina’s gaze softened, and she wiped a stray tear from your cheek. “I know you do. But your mom, she’s stuck in her own way of thinking. She’s struggling to understand because it’s not something she’s used to. But that’s her problem, not yours.”

You leaned your forehead against hers, letting the softness of her touch ground you. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

“I know, baby,” she whispered. “But you don’t have to carry all of it on your own. You’ve got me. And I’m not going anywhere.”

You closed your eyes, her words wrapping around you like a blanket. Sabrina wasn’t asking you to be anyone else. She was just asking you to be you. And for once, you felt like maybe you could believe it.

⸻

You sat on the couch later, wrapped in the warmth of Sabrina’s presence, your legs tangled together under the blanket. She’d been quiet for a while, watching you, letting you take your time. But you could feel her eyes on you, her care filling the spaces where your thoughts had scattered.

“I don’t want to keep fighting with her,” you said quietly. “But every time I try to tell her how I feel… it’s like she just shuts down.”

Sabrina nodded, her fingers tracing lazy patterns over your knuckles. “It’s hard. I get it. But you don’t have to make her understand right away. Maybe one day she will. Maybe she won’t. But what matters is that you’re true to yourself.”

“I just… I want her to accept me. To see me as who I really am.”

“I know you do,” Sabrina said softly. “And maybe she will, eventually. But right now, you don’t have to wait for her to approve of you. You already have someone who sees you. Who loves you exactly as you are.”

You looked up at her, her expression full of sincerity, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest. Sabrina wasn’t asking for anything in return. She just wanted you to feel loved. Accepted. Safe.

“You’re right,” you whispered. “You see me. You love me for me.”

She smiled, a small, soft smile that made your heart feel lighter. “Always. You’re perfect just the way you are, [Y/N]. You don’t have to change a single thing.”

You snuggled closer to her, letting the warmth of her embrace calm the storm in your chest. “Thank you. For always being here.”

“I’ll always be here,” she replied, kissing the top of your head. “You’re not alone.”

And in that moment, with her arms wrapped around you, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t need your mom’s approval. Because you had Sabrina. And that was enough.