#Then when you’re at that “I hate you” stage you’re stuck there

[kairithemang0]

”I want friends” <- eventually hates every friend he ever has

[imaginaryf1shots]

Forced | Carlos Sainz Ver.

WC: 19K

Carlos x reader

Summery: When your fathers make a pact before you're born to marry their children, you and Carlos have to see it through.

Warning: cursing, forced marriage, bad parents, asshole-y Lando, cursing? misogyny, some other things I can't remember

A.N: There's a difference between arranged marriage and forced marriage. This is forced marriage ✌️

Masterlist

Carlos Masterlist

Charles vr.

Carlos remembers the moment he found out very well. He was 11 years old. Back from holiday with the y/l/n’s. It was a fun summer, he had so much fun. He didn’t have any karting completions, and he loved spending time and playing with you. You’re just 4 years old, and even though you're just a toddler, a baby in his eyes, Carlos loved playing with you. He’s always been gentle and loves kids. He doesn’t remember a time when you weren't there.

His mum and dad sat him down a day after they came back to Spain and told him the truth.

“It’s good that you get on well with y/n.” His mum said, confusing him.

”Why?” He knows they got on well, and it makes the family get together less chaotic, but why was it so good that his mum had to comment on it.

“Carlos you’re growing older now, and we feel like it’s time for you to know that…” His mum trailed off suddenly feeling nervous, she looked at his dad, he took her hand in his and gave her a squeeze.

”y/n’s father and I are old friends, and we made an agreement years ago, and we decided that one of my children will marry one of his when they’re both old enough.” Carlos Sr watchers as his son tries to understand what’s being told to him right now. The young boy is shocked. He can’t comprehend what he’s being told. “With her mum being so sick during the pregnancy and how rough the birth was, they’re not having any more children so that leaves you and y/n, you’ll be married once she’s 21.”

”W-what! but-but she’s just a baby!” Carlos is outraged. He feels like his whole life just took a turn. He wonders if it’ll affect his karting or his future plans, all his dreams not taken into consideration.

“Amor, she won’t be a baby forever, she’ll grow older and so will you, look don’t overthink it, there's still 17 years before something happens, but we just wanted you to know.”

And so Carlos knew, he knew for years. Every time he saw you, that was all he could think about. Carlos went through all the stages, he hated it, he hated his parents and yours, and he hated you. He hated how attacked you are to him. How you’d smile every time you saw him, oblivious, in your childhood innocence. You called his name so incessantly, and he hated it all. Then he began denying it, he ignored his parents, he ignored you, he ignored everything and everyone and just focused on racing. He then accepted it. He didn’t go to any function you were attending, but he accepted it he just didn’t want to see you before he’d be stuck with you forever. He never had any long-term relationships, his family always making it obvious that they didn’t approve and like his girlfriends. You were none the wiser. Your family didn’t tell you. They just left you to grow up as you liked, living your life with no looming marriage over you.

Carlos has no idea what you are like now, what your personality is like. He had no idea how you even looked. He’s made it his mission to ignore everything about you, to block you when you were old enough to be on social media. He’ll live his life as he wants before he can’t anymore.

And the moment he got the card, he knew it was over. The time is finally here. In his hands is the invitation to your 21st birthday party. Your family is holding a big celebration. And the driver had no obligations that day, he couldn’t get out of it. There’s no ignoring you anymore. There’s no toning out his parents when they talk about you.

You weren’t particularly excited for your birthday, your mum chose the dress when she saw that you wouldn’t. It’s not like you're ungrateful for the effort your parents put into it. But it's way bigger than it needed to be, and it's not like you had a lot of friends to invite. Almost everyone they invited you barely knew. Why they made a big deal out of it is a mystery for you. The party is even bigger than your 18th birthday.

The day of the party arrived, and a glam team was booked by your mother. Your make-up and hair were done to perfection. Your dress was made especially for you. It fit where it needed to and was loose where it needed. You had to admit that it looked good on you. You wouldn't have chosen it, but your mum made a choice that wasn’t half bad.

The party was in full swing when you made it to the venue. You blasted a fake smile when you walked in, and everyone shouted happy birthday and clapped and cheered for you. You greeted everyone just like your parents would've liked you to, but you had a champagne glass in your hand that you sipped on. The moment one was empty, you had another one in your hand.

Carlos was standing in the corner watching you. You've grown so much since he last saw you. He asks himself how nobody could tell how fake your smile is, or maybe they did, but they simply didn't care. He has a glass of some alcoholic beverage in hand that he sips on. He watches as a young female pushes her way through the crowd to reach you. Your smile instantly turns genuine as you hug her closer and longer than everyone else so far.

You manage to sneak away from the fake people with your best friend, and you both find a corner away from everyone. You're giggling with your friend as you people watch, clearly talking about the attendants. The party goes on for a long time.

"I'm so hungry." Lisa, your friend groans, and you give her a sympathetic smile.

"Yeah, well, apparently, the reason the party is earlier in the day is because we're having a family dinner later." You complain and throw your head back, dreading the dinner, you're both now walking around the room in a slow circle, people have calmed and are now talking in groups, the dance floor is filled with older couples slow dancing. Some even left. They were only here to be able to say they came anyways.

"Oh my god! Isn't that ja- oomph!" You exclaim as you hit someone, you stumble, but a pair of hands stops you from making a scene and a big fool of yourself. You look up and meet a gorgeous pair of brown eyes.

You tilt your head to the side, and Carlos has to admit that you've grown so beautiful. Seeing you this close, he couldn't deny it.

"Sorry." You say and frown. "Do I know you?"

"I don't know, do you?" Carlos asks with a cheeky smile. He watches your eyes go wide. The accent is so familiar. You heard it for years from his father.

"Carlos?" You ask, and he smiles. It's him. You haven't seen him in so many years, you remember him vaguely from your childhood. You also remember following him on social media and trying to get to know him before you were blocked on everything. You take a step back and straighten yourself. "What are you doing here?"

This again confirms to him that you don't know about the agreement you both were robbed into before you were even born. "I was invited.”

"Huh, and you actually came." You state and Lisa gives you a questioning look. She doesn't know who Carlos is, you shake your head, and she knows you'll tell her later.

"It's your 21st, after all." Carlos says, and you roll your eyes.

"Good on you to remember, you don't come on holidays anymore." You tell him, and he just smiles.

"I heard you don't go anymore." Carlos fires back, and you nod. You haven't been going the last couple of years always finding an excuse not to go.

"I don't feel like it anymore." You shrug. "How long are you here for?"

"A week before I have to go back to work." Carlos puts his hands in his pockets, and you can't help but admire the man.

"Oh right, you race." You remember what your mother has been telling you, weirdly she's been trying to get you to go and watch Carlos race for a few years now, but you've been refusing

"I'll catch up with you later." Lisa whispers in your ears, you watch her go, and smile when you see the guys she's been watching all day by the bar.

"Do you watch the races?" Carlos asked you, bringing your attention back to him.

"No, I've never watched Formula 1, I only watch when your dad is racing." You have watched Carlos Sr. race a few times with your family, and you have to admit that growing up, you've been close to him, and you liked cars because of him. Not racing, but just you loved admiring cars and driving them.

"I should feel jealous then." You stand in silence for a moment, both looking at each other. There's an intensity to the looks Carlos is sending you. You don't know why.

"Oh good, you two have met." Your mum says, walking over to the two of you, Carlos's mum, Reyes, they're both smiling wide at the two of you.

"I was just about to go look for Lisa." You say and turn to leave before your mum takes hold of your arm and gives you a strained smile.

"Actually, y/n, the party is coming to an end, and we're about to head for dinner." Your mum says, and you frown looking at the Sainzs.

"Wait, they're coming with us?" You asked surprised, this is the first you've heard of it. No one told you this before.

"Yes, so be nice and come on." Your mum's voice is low, so only you could hear her.

"Then Lisa can come."

"No, and we're not going to talk about it." Your mum is getting agitated as she's been with you lately.

"But that doesn't make sense. Why can they come but not Lisa? She's my friend!" You don't care that they heard you, this is your birthday and the least they could do is let you invite your friend.

"y/n, listen to what I say, stop fighting with everything I say." She's not happy with you, and you know the threats that are about to come. "If you don't listen to me, you can kiss your house goodbye, your cards and everything you have will be gone."

You glare at her and turn to leave, you came alone with a driver. You don't bother saying goodbye to the last of the attendants, you just stop for Lisa, tell her a summary of what happened with your mum telling her to enjoy her night with the guy she's talking to before you leave.

On the way to the restaurant, you spot a shop you know well, an idea hits you, you tell the driver to park and hop out, still in your floor length gown and everything. The shop attendant looks at you wide-eyed as you head to the rack where the dress you have in mind is, your mum will kill you for this, but you don't care at the moment. If she wouldn't let you bring your friend then you're going to dress how you like.

You pay for the dress before you head to the changing room. The dress you choose is a better fit for a club, not a high-end restaurant that has been rented out for the night. It's short, just long enough so you wouldn't flash anyone when you sit down, and the neckline is dangerously low. A stark contrast to what you'd usually wear but who cares.

From the hostess to the waiters, they all looked at you with wide eyes, and you had a smile on your face walking through the restaurant.

Carlos is bored out of his mind, sitting at the table with his family and yours. They're all very comfortable with each other from spending years together, and he feels a little like an outsider. He's polite and answers when he's asked a question, but he's not engaging. He wants to know when you'd be informed of your predicament, but he doesn't want to bring it to their attention if they somehow miraculously forgot about it. From his place at the table and with an empty seat next to him, Carlos was the first person to spot you, his jaw dropped, if you looked beautiful and elegant in the first dress, you look HOT in this one. The dress left little to the imagination. He cleared his throat and readjusted himself in his seat, not taking his eyes off you.

"y/n y/n! what are you wearing?" Your mum screeched, making all eyes snap to look at you, Carlos heard one of his sisters choke on her drink and had to control the smirk from appearing on his face. He had a feeling from the look you gave your mum when she refused your friend that you'd do something, but he didn't expect this.

"A dress, dear mother." You reply with a dry tone and sit down in the seat next to him, Carlos's eyes drop to your legs for a second before he looks up and away from you.

"Just let her be for now." Your dad mutters to your mum, and she sighs, slumping in her chair. Slowly, the talking began again. Ana, Carlos's younger sister, leans over to start talking to you. Between all of you, you're the closest to her. Maybe it's because she's closer in age to you.

Carlos hasn't said a word to you since you sat down. He had to clench his fists when you crossed your legs, the already short dress moving upwards. "So y/n what F1 race do you want to go to, Carlos, can get you tickets to the one you like?"

"None, thank you." You say as politely as you can to Reyes, with a fake smile.

"I think going will be a good idea, you can get to know Carlos." You mum nudges, and you frown.

"No offence to Carlos, but why would I want to get to know him?" You ask, and the parents share a look. "Why are you all being so weird? Are you hiding something from me?"

This triggers something in you. They’ve been acting so weird for a long time now.

"No-y/n, it's just."

"Dad, what's happening?" You ask your dad, seeing how flustered your mum is, he'd lay it out to you. He's usually leaving all the problems with you for your mum to handle.

"You and Carlos are getting married." There it was said, the room went silent, Carlos's sisters didn't know where to look. You looked at your dad waiting for him to say he's joking, but he didn't. Carlos took a swing from his drink and sighed. He feels awkward right now. He hoped you'd be informed when he wasn't around and maybe in a gentler way.

"You're joking." You laugh trying to prompt them to say that they are, that this is all a prank and that they got you. None of that happens, and they're sitting there watching you. You throw the napkin on your lap on the table and stand up. "What the actual fuck is going on? How am I getting married to Carlos!"

"y/n sit down please." Your father begs and you glare at him.

"No! Someone better explain to me what is going on?" You looked at everyone, and it appeared like everyone knew about it but you. "Everyone knows? How can everyone know but me?"

"y/n, come here." Your dad is up and making his way to you. He has to pull you by your arm and to a private room in the restaurant. Your mum is following hot on your heels.

"Well, that went well." Carlos says and stands up. He walks to the balcony and leans on the railing, looking out at the night sky.

Your shouting could be heard from where Carlos stood, they're explaining the agreement, how it's legally binding, they're probably threatening you. Carlos is proud of your cursing and shouting and fighting back. He was scared you'd be raised to like and obey him, that you'd be timid and easily persuaded.

"I don't fucking care... daddy you can't make me do this.... I don't care, I don't care, I don't care... I will shout if I want to! You're not controlling my life!... I hate you, I hate you both so much!"

Carlos hears the door open and your heels clicking on the floor as you fast walk to the table where your phone sat. Carlos just makes it back when you've had them in your hands, your parents making it back as well.

"Lovely meeting you all, happy fucking birthday to me, I'll go die now." You say and walk off, pissed off and rightfully so.

"Go after her." Ana whispers to Carlos, and he looks at her with another nod of encouragement he follows you. He sees you standing outside clearly cold waiting for your car.

Carlos takes off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulder. You only spare him a glance. Carlos struggles to find words to say to you, he's known about this since he was 11 and he's come to accept it but here you are just finding out in front of him and his family.

"When did you find out?" You asked, breaking the silence between the two of you.

"When I was 11." Carlos says and your face snapped to look at him, there's sympathy in your eyes, you have no idea what's better to find out when you're still a child and have everything robbed out of it, how can you continue being a child when you're told something like this, or is it worse being told in the same year, where you'd have no time to come to terms with it.

"This is fucked up." You say, shaking your head.

"Yeah." The car pulls up to a stop in front of you, but you don't make a move to get in. "They planned for us to meet again before I leave." You scoff at this, not believing how they have everything planned already before you were even told. "Give me your phone." You look at him and reluctantly hand him your phone, Carlos puts in his number and calls himself, so he'd have your number. "Go home, try to relax and think about everything, but just so you know, there's no getting out of this, legally, I've tried for years."

"It must've been hard for you." You say and give him a small smile. "Good night."

"Good night."

Carlos was right. Your mum sent you a text when you rejected her calls. She said that you have to come to this family function, you have to start being seen with Carlos. You half wanted to block her, but you knew that she'd just get a new number and then a new number and so on until you wouldn't ignore her anymore.

Carlos also texted you, but you only replied with one word answers, not feeling like replying to him. On the day of the function, you were sitting on the sofa in your home in a pair of shorts and a random t-shirt. Your doorbell rang in the silent apartment, making you sigh and reluctantly get up to see who it is. Opening the door, you see Carlos standing there. He's dressed in a white linen shirt with white shorts. Leaning on the door, you look at him but say nothing. You’re out of your heels, making Carlos realise how much shorter you are than him. The make-up is gone, and it’s like he’s seeing you for the first time. This is a contrast from the dolled up version he saw on your birthday. Both beautiful, both breathtaking.

"I see that you already decided not to come." Carlos states, and you sigh and turn and walk in your apartment, Carlos following you closing the door. Carlos takes a moment to look over the apartment. You plop down on the sofa in the same position as before. "I texted you."

"You and everyone else." You say and text Lisa, not looking at him.

"You do know that if you don't go, they'll come over, right?" You haven't thought of that. You sit up and look at Carlos, who is looking at the artwork you have on the walls. He turns to look at you with a grin. "I suggest you change before that happens."

"But I don't want to go." You whine and sigh.

"Who said anything about going, I said change." Carlos smirks, and your eyes light up at the thought of him helping you escape your family.

"You'll help me escape?" You ask him hope bubbling inside of you.

"Yes"

"Oh my god, thank you!" You run to your bedroom, closing the door and changing into a sundress, taking your bag with all your essentials. "Did you drive here?" You ask Carlos coming out of the bedroom. He's made himself comfortable on your sofa. Carlos looks up from his phone, his eyes giving you a once over.

"No, I don't have a car here." You nod. It makes sense. He lives in Spain, after all.

"Well, you're in luck. Which car do you want to take?" You ask him and nod to where you had your car keys hanging one next to each other, a Porch, a McLaren, a Mercedes, and then a Ferrari.

"Wow, hermosa, I didn't know you liked cars," Carlos says and stands beside you to look at the logos on the keys. You grin and look at him.

"There's so much you don't know about me." You say, and Carlos looks at you also smiling.

"Well, let's change that." He takes the Ferrari keys, and you both make your way to the garage, Carlos presses the key and sees the dark blue Ferrari lights up. He gives you a look, and you grin.

"Do you want to drive?" You ask him.

"Yes, if you're okay with it."

"Of course, if I don't trust a race car driver to drive, who would I trust?" You tease him and get into the passenger side of the car. The 488 Pista is your baby. You only ever let Lisa drive it, but you trust Carlos to be careful. "Do you have an idea about where we could go?"

"Yes, don't think I didn't come prepared." Carlos said, and you laughed, you look out the window as the scenes changed. Carlos was driving close to the river.

"Be honest, you don't know where we're going." You say realising he’s gone in a circle.

“I don’t know, but we can just drive around.” Carlos admits, but it doesn’t sway him. You hum and agree. You sit in silence for a while with so many questions and possibilities going through your head. “You can ask me anything you want, I can hear you thinking.”

”Okay, but don’t regret it.” You warn him, and he laughs. You find yourself smiling as you watch him. It takes you a moment to find the first question to ask. “Did you stop coming on holidays and our families' meetings so you wouldn’t see me?”

”Yes, every time I saw you, I remembered what’s going to happen.” Carlos decided that being honest with you is the best thing that could happen. You’ve been lied to (by omission) for long enough.

“I’m sorry.” You suddenly felt guilty, even though you only just found out about it.

“Nothing to be sorry about, hermosa.” Carlos glances at you and smiles. “We’re both robbed into an agreement that was made way before we were even born.”

”Right, you said that you tried to get out of it. What do you mean?” You ask him, the first thing that came to your mind while talking to your parents is getting out of the agreement.

”It means that the contracts were signed and that if one of us breaks the contract, the other will be cut off by the families, financially and everything, we’d be publicly disowned.”

”Surely they wouldn’t do that.” You have problems with your parents, yes, but you love them, and they wouldn’t just throw you on the streets despite the usual threats from your mother.

”I’m afraid they would. Our parents want this marriage more than anything else.” Carlos says, and you groan, wanting to cry, as the reality of it all sets in.

”So we’re stuck?” Your voice wavers, Carlos looks at you and sees the tears gathering in your eyes. Carlos sports a parking spot, and he doesn’t care when he ilegaly overtakes the car beside him and parks. Carlos takes your hand in both of his much bigger ones. You look up at him, and a tear leaves your eye. You wipe it away and bite your bottom lip.

”We are, but that doesn't have to be a bad thing.” Carlos tries to comfort you the best he can. He was young and alone when he found out. He doesn’t want you to go through the same things as he did. “I’m going to try to make this as easy as I can, I know that you don’t want to get married to me, and you’re beautiful and amazing but I don’t want to get married to you, there’s nothing for us to do but try and make it easier for ourself.”

Tears leave your eyes, and you nod in agreement. You try to smile, but your lips wouldn’t even quirk up a little. Carlos is sympathetic; he's the only person who understands you right now. You’re both in the same boat.

“Have you thought about marriage before your birthday?” Carlos asked, he was hesitant, he dated knowing that it’s going nowhere, he’s never put his all in a relationship before, hasn’t given his heart to anyone, it may have not been fair to the women he’s been with but he protected his heart by keeping it close. Since you didn’t know it means you could’ve loved someone, hell, you could be in a relationship right now, you could be in love with someone and he’s forced to take you away from that person. Carlos may not want this marriage, but it’s happening, and he’ll be damned if he let his wife be with someone else. Call it toxic masculinity, call it possiveness, call it whatever you want, but from now on, you’re his. He feels bad for you, but it changes nothing.

”No, I haven’t, haven’t even been in a proper relationship.” You mutter and wipe the last of your tears away. You take your hand out of Carlos’s and look in your phone to see the state you’re in.

”I find that hard to believe.” Carlos is a tad bit suspicious. You’re beautiful. There’s no way a man hasn’t caught your attention yet.

”Well you best believe it, I wasn’t allowed to date when I was living with my parents, and then after, every person I was interested in just dropped me before anything happened.” You shrug and fix your hair, not looking at Carlos. You miss the look on his face. He knew what that meant, even if you had no idea. Your parents must have had a hand in this. He’s relieved, he doesn’t comment on this, and pulls out of the parking spot he was still parked in.

”You know what I find unfair?” You mumble, your head resting on the window as you stare at the city moving past.

“What?”

”That I was the last to know, you all knew and had time to come to terms with it and I’m expected to be okay with everything and get married by the end of the year or early next year.”

“None of this is fair, y/n.” He has a point, but it doesn’t make it better. There’s rage bubbling inside of you. You’re hurt, angry, betrayed, and it’s all simmering inside of you. “Hasn’t your parents called you?”

”My phone is on silent.” You comment and don’t make a move to check. “Have they called you?”

”I texted Ana and told her I’m with you.” You hum, and Carlos continues driving.

By the time Carlos drives back to your house, you’re both hungry. You don’t invite him up for food or drink, not wanting to spend any more time with him for the day. Carlos is nice. He’s caring, a true gentleman. You’re stuck within for the rest of your life, and you’d love to be as free as you can before you’re forced to be glued to him.

“Thank you for today.” You tell Carlos with a smile.

”No worries.” Carlos makes a move to get out of the car.

”Wait! you can keep the car while you’re here.” You feel bad making him take a car wherever he’s going next, and you have plenty, him having one for a few days will not affect you.

”Are you sure?” Carlos asks, you nod in confirmation. “Alright thank you, hermosa. Good night.”

”Good night.”

When you get to your apartment, you can see that your mum was there. She certainly went through your things, probably trying to figure out where you went. If you ever want to hide anything you know where to hide it, it’s your apartment, after all.

Looking at your phone, you wince seeing the 20+ pissed calls mostly from your mum. but a few from your father and the Sainzs as well. Your mum probably made them call you. You contemplate for a moment before you decide to bite the bullet and call her before she makes her way back to your house.

”y/n y/l/n, where have you been? Do you know how much i’ve called? Why are you ignoring me? This is so embarrassing, I can’t believe we’ve come to this!” Your mum goes on and on, you pull the phone away from your ear, and you still hear her voice screaming. It takes her a couple of minutes before she’s silent.

”Mum, I know that you know, I was with Carlos.” You tell her your tone nonchalant, pissing her off more. “This is what you wanted anyways, I’m spending my time with my ‘betrothed’.”

”So why didn't you just come? The Sainzs are leaving in a couple of days! You have to spend time with them.” She screams again, and you pinch between your eyes, feeling a headache coming in.

”I know them, okay? It’s not like you married me off to a strange family, I know them pretty well. The only person I don’t know is Carlos, and I spent the day with him, so win, win.” You try to reason with her.

”It’s not a win win-“

”Look, you and dad basically sold me before I was even born, and I was just told about it, I can do whatever I want, I’ll marry him but I’m entitled to be pissed off and go with getting to know him the way I want, goodbye and dont try to call me before next week because I wont answer.” With that, you hang up on her, leaning back. You fall onto your bed and close your eyes. “What a mess.”

To her credit, your mum lets you have your days, and she doesn’t call, but come next Monday, she calls you early in the morning. The Sainzs were out of the country, and your car was back in your garage with the keys left inside for you to take and a text from Carlos letting you know.

“When I said to not call until next week, I didn’t mean to call me at 6 in the morning on Monday!” You say answering the phone, Lisa goans and pushes you away. She spent the night at your house, you glare and get out of the bed, and head to the living room, leaving your friend to sleep before she has to get ready to head out.

”Oh be grateful, y/n.”

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.”

”I swear to god…” She mumbles a few things that aren’t that nice before she takes a deep breath to calm herself. You just have that effect on your mum. “Look, I just wanted to tell you that we decided the date for the engagement.”

”Wow, how nice of you to inform me of my engagement date.” You say sarcastically, rolling your eyes. “Do tell when will I be officially spoken for?”

”I’m choosing to ignore your tone-“

”You’re not ignoring if you’re pointing it out.”

”It’s in five weeks, I’ll send you the details.” You continue as if you haven’t interrupted her. “Carlos will get you tickets for the Italian Grand Prix in Imola, so be nice.”

”Why do I have to go there? there’s nothing about me having to make an appearance or act all lovey dovey with him.” You whine not understanding why they couldn’t just let you get married without all the show around it.

“Because, he’s a public figure, and we have to make it as natural as we can.” She was talking to you like you were a child, something that always irked you about her.

”Didn’t think of that when you all decided to force us into this, did you?”

”You better go to this Grand Prix and any other he gives you tickets for, do you understand?”

”I’m taking Lisa.”

“No you’re not!” You never understand what your mum has for your best friend.

”Yes I am!”

”No you’re not, Carlos is only sending you one ticket.” She’s seething right now. “Bye.”

You take a cushion, press it to your face, and scream, you scream and scream.

”What’s wrong with you?” Lisa asked stumbling out of the bedroom, half asleep.

”I’m going to Italy to see my future husband.”

”Oh.”

”Yes, oh.”

y/n

Can you send me two tickets 👉👈

please

Carlos

why? are you bringing a bf or smth?

y/n

ha ha

no ☠️

for Lisa, my friend

Carlos

your mum told me not to give you an extra one

y/n

and do you always listen to my mum

Carlos

no

that’s why I’m sending you an extra one

also I’ll make sure she has a room in our hotel

y/n

thanks

Carlos

no worries

see you in 9 days

y/n

9days!!!!

i didn’t know it was in 9 days

Carlos

woops

the race is on sunday

we have to be there on Wednesday for media on Thursday

y/n

cool

see you then I guess

Carlos

Wow don’t sound so excited to see me

y/n

go die 💀

Carlos

good beiging to this marriage

y/n

🖕

You fly with Lisa despite your mum's words. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her anyway. You didn’t see Carlos before Thursday, having reached the hotel and changed and went out to explore with Lisa. You girls had so much fun, you’ve never been to this part of Italy before.

On Thursday morning, you wake up to a knock on the door, you’re sharing with Lisa.

“y/n open the door.” Lisa isn’t a morning person, and it shows, you groan and get up to open the door, and it’s, surprise, surprise, Carlos.

”Morning.” You greet the spanish man with a sheepish smile.

”Morning, you guys have fun yesterday?” Carlos asked with a smirk. He saw Lisa on her bed behind you. The room was messy, and you’ve been here less than 24 hours.

”You can say that.” You say looking at the room over your shoulder before turning back to look at him. “When are we leaving?”

”In half an hour, just text me when you’re done, I’m already ready to go.” Carlos says and you notice the red team kit he’s wearing.

“Okay, I’ll see you in a bit.”

You get ready first, thankfully you showered the night before, so you just had to get dressed and do your make-up. When you text Carlos once you’re both ready, he tells you to come downstairs. You see him standing with a few people from his team, waking over with a smile on your face.

”Good morning everyone, sorry we kept you waiting.” You say trying to sound as polite as you can.

”No worries, hermosa, you’re just on time.” Carlos says, he wraps an arm around your waist and introduces you to everyone. “… and this is y/n, my girlfriend.”

Your smile wavers at the word but you don’t say anything. Getting in the car you sit in between Carlos and Lisa.

”Girlfriend?” You whisper and glare at him.

”What was I supposed to say? We’re getting engaged in a month.” Carlos whispers back and you sigh, leaning back in your chair crossing your arms. “I don’t like this as much as you do, but we have to play our parts.”

”Could’ve fooled me.” You mutter but say nothing else.

With sunglasses on, and Lisa following behind. You walk in with Carlos, he doesn’t hold your hand, but it doesn’t matter, cameras are snapping away at the two of you. This is all new to you, you’ve never had people trying to take pictures of you before.

”Just relax and act like they’re not there.” Carlos tells you, seeing how nervous you are, maybe he should’ve talked to you before you made your paddock debut. “Once we’re inside you can go and explore with Lisa.”

True to his word, Carlos showed you both where the Ferrari motorhome was and let you guys loose to explore.

“Who is that cutie?” Lisa asks seeing a picture of one of the drivers in orange.

”Don’t know.” You tell her not paying him much attention. “I feel like we should’ve done our research before we came.”

“True, but we’ve been to rally races before, how different could it be?” You give her a look and she shrugs. “Completely different, okay, I got it. We can research today, ooh look we can get merch!”

”Why do you want merch, we don't know anything about anything!” You say but get pulled by Lisa anyways, you do end up browsing with her, the sun was killing you, so you looked at all the different coloured hats. You go to the Ferrari ones and debat choosing either the 55 one or just the team ones.

”Hey, y/n, I’m paying, are you coming?” Lisa calls, you pick a hat and go to the cashier with her. “Supporting the team I see.”

”Stop, it’s hot and the sun is bothering me.” You defend yourself looking at the plain Ferrari hat.

”Whatever you say.” You gently push her away, making your friend fall into a fit of giggles. You couldn’t help but laugh with her.

You get ice cream and spend your time just entertaining yourselves. Carlos was busy filming for Ferrari and doing his interviews so you only saw him at lunch. Where he spent next to you but speaking with his trainer while you and Lisa were gossiping.

The ride back to the hotel saw you and Lisa tired, and silent.

“Looks like you tired yourselves out.” Carlos said and you just hummed. “I forgot to tell you at lunch, you know there’s hats with my number on them right?”

”I know.” You say and give him a playful smile. “It was right next to this one.”

The next day you spend more in the garage watching FP1 and FP2, you and Lisa tried to familiarise yourselves with everything that you researched the day before. Lisa did spend more time familiarising herself with the drivers. Watching the garage function, really made you appreciate everything more, it cemented how amazing this sport is.

At the end of of FP1 and FP2 Ferrari did better than they expected, the cameras flashed to the garage a few times, showing Alex, Charles girlfriend and they flashed to you at one point, but there was no name or anything under you.

The ride back to the hotel was more lively this time around, you’ve done your homework when it came to Formula 1 but you still have so many questions, so taking that time you ask Carlos about whatever came to your mind, and it seems that there’s still so much that you don’t know about.

”…drivers in the simulator at the factory overnight, going over all the data and all the possibilities.” Carlos was explaining, you were listening and nodding to his words as you’re starting to understand just the magnitude of the sport.

“Girl, check Twitter.” Lisa says interrupting your conversation, you lean over to look at her phone, and on her feed are pictures taken from your Instagram, with your name and age written for everyone to see.

”Looks like the online detective found my Instagram.” You comment and roll your eyes, not even wanting to know what they’re saying about you.

“That’s faster than I expected.” Carlos, thought that it would take them more time, since you’re not a public figure in any way.

“You underestimate the power of the fans.” You say and sigh. “It wouldn’t have been that hard, my family is linked to yours, and if anyone did any simple digging they’d find me on your sisters' Instagrams.”

”I guess that’s true.” Carlos took out his phone and opened Instagram. “What’s your username?”

”y/insta/n, but you’d have to unblock me first before you drop a follow.” Carlos freezes at your words, you let out a laugh and bump your shoulder with his teasingly. You watch as he types it in and unblocks you, only to find himself blocked, he turns to look at you with raised eyebrows. “What? You blocked me first.”

You take out your phone and see the amount of notification on Instagram, will have to turn them off for sure. You unblock Carlos and follow him, and he does the same.

”You guys just confirmed to everyone that you’re dating.” Lisa informed you and you gave her a sarcastic smile and a thumbs up. “So Carlos… are you friends with Lando?”

This makes you burst out laughing, only your friend would ask something like that to a guys she barely knows.

”Yeah, I’m having dinner with him today.” Carlos says and Lisa looks at you with wide eyes and pouting lips. You grimace and look at Carlos who was smirking.

“y/nnnnn.” Lisa whines and takes your hand in hers, you look at her and sigh. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She hugs you before turning to Carlos. “When are you meeting him?”

“At 7.”

“We'll be ready before that.”

And so Lisa robbed you into a dinner with your future husband and one of his friends, you were not in the mood for acting all lovey-dovey with Carlos. Nonetheless, you get dressed in one of your dresses, fix your hair and touch up your make-up. Carlos does text you and say that you’re all going to a nearby restaurant, that’s private.

Carlos was waiting for you guys downstairs when you were done. His eyes ran from your hair down to your feet, taking you in. He noticed how much you liked dresses and how good they look on you. You’re always in some type of heels or chunky sneakers, giving your height a boost. But his mind goes back to when he was in our apartment and how short you are compared to him, he has to clear his throat and look away for a second to stop his mind from wandering too much.

Carlos leads you to the car, you sit in the passenger seat with Lisa in the back and of course Carlos is driving. The music is turned on low and a small chatter is happening between the three of you.

The three of you get out of the car once Carlos parks, he finds his place by your side even though Lisa is talking to you. You don’t notice his hand in the air behind your back before it drops to his side clenching. Carlos did not expect the possessiveness that’s ignited in him each time he sees you, you’re doing something in him unknowingly and it frustrates him how unbothered and unaffected you are.

The hostess lead you to a table at the back, Carlos pulls your chair for you and takes the one next to you after you’ve sat down. Lando arrives a few minutes later, he quickly greets Carlos warmly, before he turns to you.

”And you’re y/n?” Lando asks you smile and nod.

”Yes, it’s lovely to meet you.” You say, Lando gives a small and not all there smile before he turns to Lisa and greets her, he sits across from Carlos and next to your friend.

”So Carlos told me he was your first teammate, how was he like?” Lisa asked trying to start a conversation.

”Uh, he was great, couldn’t ask for a better teammate to have at the start of my Formula 1 journey.” You could tell how close the two are, how much love and respect they have for each other. “Yeah, Carlos is super nice to those he’s not forced to be with.” You know then that he knows about what’s going on between you and Carlos, for one you don’t have to act which is a good thing for you. Carlos gives Lando a look. “What? I said nothing.”

The waiter comes and takes your orders, before leaving.

”So, y/n, what do you do?” Lando asked, it looked like had his sights on you for the day.

”I’m still studying.” You say and give Lando the fakest smile you could master.

“And what do you plan after that?” Lando may have seemed slick and just interested in what his friends 'girlfriend' is like but it's not working on you, or the other two on the table.

“Don't know, still have time to decide.” You shrug and look at Lisa who didn't may have just lost all her interest in Lando.

“How does a housewife or gold digger soun-”

“Oh my god!” Lisa exclaimed and leaned away from Lando as if he'll contaminate her if she stayed close.

“Get off it Lando.” Carlos was not happy, he told Lando not for him to torment you, but to share his worries with a friend.

“Its okay Carlos.” You say with a sickly sweet smile and pat his hand on the table where it clenched, before you turned to Lando. “Since we're all adults here, and we all know what's going on, why don't you say whatever you want to say to me Lando.”

“Hermosa.”

“Honestly Carlos, it's fine, we don't know each other that well, but best assured I can take care of myself and I'm not easily bothered.” You tell him and he sighs and leans back in his chair in defeat. You gesture for Lando to go on.

“Look, Carlos is my friend, and I don't like him being forced into this by your family.” Lando starts, he's moving his hand as he speaks. “I don't understand why you're going along with it! Why can't you look for a way out? Carlos has dreams and he's on top of his career right now he doesn't need this.”

“I understand that you care for your friend Lando, I truly do, which is why I'm not taking any of those to heart.” You tell him and tap your fingers on the table as you pause for a second your eyes giving him a once over, noticing his blazing eyes wanting to just erase you from existence. “But while you were thinking about Carlos, Lisa was also thinking about me, asking why did his family make this happen? Why couldn't he find a way out of this?” You see him opening his mouth to reply. “No, you had your turn now it's my turn. I also have dreams, I also want to do things and I don't want to be stuck in a loveless marriage for the rest of my life. Me and Carlos, we're like pawns in this, we have no say, so don't you dare judge me, you have no idea what's it to be in my position.”

“This whole thing is just a big fat lie!” Lando exclaimed, and your eyes are no longer kind, they're no longer brought and light. You're angry, you're agitated.

“Well this big fat lie is my life! It's my reality!” This takes Lando by surprise, it looks like for the first time Lando sees you and he takes you in. The intensity of his gaze softening as he watched you. His shoulders slumped slightly, the anger draining from his face, replaced by a weary sadness.

“Look, I’m sorry.” He said quietly, his voice now devoid of its earlier harshness. “I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I just... I care about Carlos. He’s like an older brother to me. I want him to be happy.”

You blink, taken aback by his sudden change in tone you take a deep breath, the tension in your body easing slightly. “I understand, Lando. I want him to be happy too. But this is bigger than both of us. We’re all caught in this web, and there’s no way out. The only things we can do, is try to make the best of this situation we found ourselves in.”

You give Lando an olive branch smile, he returns it with one of his own although it was tinged with sadness. “I just... I don’t want to see my friend miserable.”

“Neither do I,” you replied softly. “Neither do I.”

As the tension between you eased, Lisa smiled.

“Well, that was intense.” Lisa said giving you a look of encouragement, you just give her a nod. “Looks like my choice in men hasn't gotten better.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Lando asked her confusedly, clearly Carlos hadn't told him that Lisa was interested in him.

“You do know that the reason we're having dinner with you is because I told Carlos I wanted to meet you, right?”

Those two biker and speak sarcastically to each other as they begin to get to know each other.

Carlos takes your hand under the table and gives it a squeeze, you look at him, only to find him already looking at you.

“Every time I see you, you surprise me.” Carlos mutters and you smile teasingly.

“Have to keep you on your toes somehow.”

“Then please don't stop.”

The night ends on a good note and a new number in Lisa's phone.

You go to a few races after that, always seen with Carlos, your relationship already confirmed to the public and it became well known that you've known each other since you were kids. Carlos ‘accidently’ said that you've been together for over a year, so when the engagement is announced it wouldn't be a big shock. Otherwise your life hasn't changed much, something that is bound to happen the moment there's a ring on your finger.

The fans thankfully fell in love with the story of young, childhood friends, losing contact then meeting years later and falling in love. And you were real in all the ways you could with the fans and cameras, that rebellious streak you have, has been noticed and noted by fans. And they love you all the more for it.

The Spanish Grand Prix is where you’re headed to next. Your family was also in Spain for the event, and it’s the last Grand Prix you’ll be attending before your engagement is announced.

You were staying at the Sainzs’ house, where you always stay when you’re in Spain. Eating breakfast there before heading out to the paddock, it became a family affaire, you have no idea how his team managed to get him this many passes, but home races are different after all.

”My mum has been hounding me those last few days.” You complain to Carlos as you walk through the paddock together, him in Ferrari Kit and you in a red dress and a red Ferrari hat, no number still.

“She’s just stressed about the engagement.” Carlos tells you and slows down just enough so you could walk in front of him through the crowd of people, his hand makes it way to the small of your back. His hand is big and hot on your back, it has you suppressing a shiver.

“Highly doubt this is the reason.” You tell the Spanish man now by your side, his hand not moving from the small of your back as he leads you around the paddock, you’re not even focusing on your destination just letting him take you wherever he wants.

”My mum has also been stressed.” Carlos forever trying not to make your mum a bad person in your eyes, but you know her well enough to know how she is.

”Carlos, your mum and my mum may be friend but they’re completely different.” You tell him and meet his eyes for a second, in that second Carlos thought he saw some sadness in your eyes, but he can’t be sure. “There’s a reason I always spend time with Anna at your family house and not mine.”

”And here I thought you just like the Spanish heat.” Carlos teased and you bump your shoulder with his. “But don’t mind her too much, in a few days she’ll be back home and you’ll be free from her.”

”True.” You mutter and take a deep breath, slowly releasing it. You reach the Ferrari garage from the back, and Carlos leads you through the hospitality and to his driver’s room, the one that has his bed. You walk in and see a beautiful bouquet of flowers, tulips to be precise. “Ohh look someone got you flowers.”

You walk over to the tulips admiring them, they’re your favourite kind. You touch the petals and take in a whiff of the scent, Carlos stands by the door smiling, the sun coming in from the windows leaving you glowing.

”They’re for you.” Carlos leans on the door and shameless stares at you, your head snaps to look at him.

”What?” You want to make sure you heard him correctly.

”I got them for you, Anna said they’re your favourite.” Carlos watched as the smile on your face grew bigger and he saw a side to you that he never did before, a blush dusts your cheeks and you look… shy. It makes him proud of his decision to get you flowers.

”They are? What’s the occasion?” You ask him, holding the flowers in your arms.

”No occasion, just wanted to give you something that will lift your spirits.” Carlos’s gaze didn’t waver from your form, but the smile on your face made him smile.

”Well, consider them lifted.” You look at Carlos and walk up to him. “Thank you.”

You wrap an arm around his neck careful of the bouquet in between you. Carlos hugs you loosely, he takes in your scent. The smell of your shampoo and perfume filling his nose, you’re in feels making your reach that bit easier. You both stand there for a moment before you pull back still smiling. You don’t think you’ve ever gotten flowers from anyone before.

So you best believe you’ve taken a million pictures of them, some made their way onto your Instagram story. With those flowers Carlos made you happier than any jewellery your family got you, it’s something so simple but makes you the happiest.

After the end of the Grand Prix and before your parents have to leave, they’re sticking around for two days. For the engagement of course.

You were with Anna in her room, laying on her bed as she did something on her desk. She was telling you about a new drama happening in her friend group.

”y/n.” Carlos calls your name coming in the room, you sit up and look at him.

”What?” You ask him tilting your head to the side slightly.

”Let’s go.” Carlos said simply and that confused you even more.

”Where?”

”Just come, or your mum will be all over us in a few minutes.” Carlos knew exactly what to say, you were off the bed and out of the room in seconds, just stopping in yours long enough to take your purse. Carlos lead your to his matt grey Ferrari, you get in the passenger seat and it doesn’t take long before Carlos drives off.

”Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” You ask the Spaniard besides you. “Or are you going to tell me you know where we’re going, but in fact you’ll be lost and we’ll just drive around?”

”Hey, it was only one time.” Carlos defends himself, you smile and look out the window trying to see where you’re going. “I’m just taking us to my house, we can have a moment alone before…”

Carlos trails off but you know what he means, before the engagement is out for everyone to know about. It’s your first time at his house, the house is big and as you walk in, it screams Carlos. A bit man cave-y, but still him.

”Do you want anything to drink?” Carlos asked, walking into the kitchen, leaving you to look around as you like.

”No thank you, I’m sure we’ll be drinking enough once we’re back.” You tell him and look at the few pictures he has up on the walls. You’re looking at a painted F1 Ferrari on the wall when Carlos comes back to you. “I always wonder what it's like driving that fast.”

“Very thrilling and adrenaline pumping.” Carlos says and you turn to look at him, there’ a glint in your eyes that he’s familiar with nowadays.

”You’re lucky my parents didn’t let me get into karting, or you’d have some serious competition.” You tease and walk around him to the sofa, you plop down and it just sucks you in. “This sofa is so comfy.”

”I bet you’d be , would have my money on you anyways.” Carlos joins you on the sofa and looks at your relaxed state, he likes seeing you here, in his house. He hates what he’ll say next seeing how comfy you are right now, but this talk has been long overdue. “I think we need to talk about a few things.”

“I guessed so.” You say and sit straighter, pulling your legs up on the sofa and to your chest, your hands around your legs, head on your knees as you look at Carlos.

”With the engagement things will become different, more media will be all over you, a lot of things will be said, a lot of speculation.” Carlos wants you to be as ready as you could, he’s heard and seen what it does to wags and he doesn’t want you to be affected by it. “I know you’re strong and can take care of yourself but just be ready.”

”I will, don't worry.” You can tell there’s more to come, Carlos is just taking it easy to start. “Now tell me what you really wanted to talk about.”

”We live in different countries, and I don’t want to make you come live in Spain if you don’t want to, but for this to work, I think it’s best you stay here, whenever I’m here, You still have another two years at university, so I wouldn't want you to move in right away, but just when you can.”

”I’ve been thinking about that, and uh after the wedding, I can switch to online school.” You tell him meeting his eyes, Carlos looks surprised, you chuckle and shake your head lightly. “It’s getting boring anyways, people keep asking me about you when I go. Plus there’s so many countries I haven’t been to yet, that you travel to for racing.”

”I’ll take you wherever you want to go.” Carlos promises and you grin.

”You know, I’m a trust fund baby right?” Carlos raises his arms in defeat and you smile. “You can pay for my cars to be shipped here.”

”Okay, wow, I see how it is.” The tone turns serious once more. “I never said I was sorry about all this.”

”You most definitely don’t have to, this wasn’t in our hands, there’s nothing we can do about it.” You move closer to Carlos and pat his hand in comfort. “And if it’s of any comfort, I’m glad it’s you and not some asshole.”

”I’m glad it’s you too.”

”See, we only have to look at the bright side of things.” You both stay silent for a moment, your hands right next to each other. “Have you chosen the ring yet?

”Yeah, yeah, I have it.” This gets Carlos moving, he disappears to a different room, before he comes back with a velvet box in hand. Carlos sits next to you, your knees almost touching and angles himself to you. He opens the box and there’s a beautiful three stones ring all round cut, with small diamonds on the band.

”It’s beautiful.” You say smiling, it doesn’t feel like your ring, you’ve never been engaged before but you know this is not the feeling you were supposed to have. This isn’t how you’d always imagined your engagement to go. It’s all real now.

”Do you want me to…” Carlos wants to ask before he trails off, he takes in the look on your face, a tight lip smile and teary eyes, you bite your lips and scrunch your nose for a moment, trying to keep them at bay.

”No it’s alright.” You mumble and take the rings out the box and slip it on to your ring finger, it fits you perfectly, a few tears slip from your eyes, and unlike many it’s not from happiness, it’s sadness, you were robbed of a proposal, of dating, of loving, or choosing.

”I’m so sorry, y/n, truly, I wish I had found a way out of this.” Carlos tells you sincerely, you take a deep breath brushing your tears away and you lean over and hug him, Carlos doesn’t hesitate before he hugs you back, you both need this. This hug means a lot to the both of you.

“Stop apologising, please.” Your voice is muffled as you hide your face in his shoulder, he holds you tighter. You don’t know how long you’ve sat there for before you pull back with a fake and weak smile. “I should take a few pictures for Instagram, before we have to head back.”

Carlos watches you as you go through the motions with no real emotion behind your action. It’s something you have to do.

The drive back is silent as you try to control all your emotions, there’s still more pictures you have to take, more smiling, more laughter. When you walk in, your mum is the first to notice the new addition on your finger, she squeals s if she had no idea it will happen today. They all congratulate you like this has been your choice all along. You just say thank you and smile. They pose you and Carlos for pictures, they take turns standing in and having group pictures taken, you and Carlos just go along with everything.

Wine bottles have been popped and drinks were passed around, Carlos didn’t drink knowing he’d drive back to his house. He’s made to sit next to you and Anna takes your other side. He’s happy talking with you both and not stuck with the others. His older sister and husband are not here for the occasion.

Your parents seemed to have drunk more than they could handle as you can see your mum getting tipsy and then drunk. You pay them no attention until something is said that has all your attention on them.

“-I mean we worked so hard to push them away from her, my y/n so beautiful.” Your mum says and you stare at her in horror, Reyes tipsy but still more sober tries to gets your mum to stop, but once she began there was no stopping her. “All those boys we paired off to stay away from her, and we tried to get her to go to a race for so long, but she’s just so stubborn, oh god, I’m so happy, can’t wait for her to get married, who knew who’d bring if we didn’t do that, always rebellious-“

”I’m glad you’re happy.” You mutter glaring at your parents, before you get up and storm out of the room, your mood changing so much throughout the day. So many ups and downs, more downs though.

“y/n, wait!” A few people shout after you, you don’t stop, you know someone is following you out of the house but you don’t even glance to see who it is.

”Hermosa, wait!” Carlos calls for you, you don’t stop but slow down as he reaches you. “I won’t try to defend her this time, but do you want to stay at my house tonight?”

You just nod, unable to gather your strengths to speak. Once more you get in Carlos's car and he drives you to his house in complete silence. Carlos knew about the agreement long before you did, he was allowed to date and explore meanwhile, you were watched and robbed of those experiences. Feeling as if though none likes you, that you're unlikable, unattractive.

Carlos leads you through the house to his bedroom. “I'll get you some clothes and you can shower if you want, the bathroom is right there.”

You just nod and go into the bathroom, Carlos brings you a shirt and a pair of shorts. “thanks.” You mumble. Carlos stands at the door for a sword debating what to say if anything, before he leaves you.

You strip out of your clothes, and hop in the shower, the water is hot on your skin but you don't care, you just stand there and the tears start leaving your eyes. They disappear with the water down the drain leaving no trace of them.

Carlos is texting his sister, on his bed when he hears your sobs. He feels so bad for you, your family has gone about everything so wrong. They've so set on reaching their end goal, and didn't care about what it would do to you in the process. His family isn't that much better, but between the two of you, he's had it much better.

And all he can do now is sit and hear you cry, there's nothing he can do to make it better.

The water stops, and you're no longer crying, but you don't come out for a while. Carlos gets a notification that you posted on Instagram, yes he has your post notification on. He opens it to see a picture of the two of you at his family’s house. your hand on his chest with the ring visible for everyone to see, his hands are on your waist as you both smile at the camera. You also post a story of the engagement ring, with fake words that mean nothing to him.

He looks up once he hears the bathroom door open, and even if you were just crying, seeing you in his clothes has him wanting to pull you closer. The clothes are big on you, the shirt hiding most of the shorts, that you must've pulled the string off so much to get them to fit your waist.

“You don't have any conditioner.” You tell him acting as if you haven't just spent half an hour crying in the bathroom.

“Yea, uh, sorry, I don't use conditioner.” Carlos says and blinks a few times, you're busy towel drying your hair to notice his eyes on you.

“You don't use conditioner? How is your hair always so… Soft and fluffy then?” You finish with the towel and look at him.

“Good genes I guess.” You nod to his words. “You can sleep here, I'll take the guest bedroom.”

“No way, this is your room, I'm not taking it from you.” Carlos walks Closer and places his hand on your shoulders, from this close he couldn't see how red your eyes are.

“Just please, take it, the bed is comfier here.”

“But-”

“For me, please.” Your eyes don't stray from his, and you see the sincerity in them, so you reluctantly nod.

“Okay, yeah, thank you.” You mumble and look down.

“No worries, hermosa.” Carlos kisses your cheek softly, and leaves you standing there. Your eyes has gone wide, his lips leaving a tingling feeling in their wake. Your cheeks are red and your heart is beating fast in your chest.

“What are you doing to me?” You ask yourself, before you shake your head and head to bed.

Laying in his bed, under his covers on his pillows leaves you feeling as if you're being hugged by him. He's all you can smell, as if he's right there next to you, and maybe that's why you fell asleep so easily.

The next morning you wake up to the scent of pancakes, making your way to the kitchen you see a shirtless Carlos moving around. He doesn’t notice straight away, so you take the time to appreciate his physique. You know he’s fit, he’s an F1 driver for goodness sake. Seeing him there in front of you, with no fireproofs or anything is another things. His shoulders, strong arms, thick neck and chest down to his abs and then the v line leading into his pants, it all got you feeling hot.

”Morning.” You eventually manage to say and walk closer to see what he’s doing and not stare him to death.

”Good morning, did you sleep well?” Carlos asked turning to look at you.

”Yeah, slept like a baby.” You tell the taller man, rounding the counter to see if there’s anything. you can do to help. “Do you need help with anything?”

”No, I got it, almost done.” Carlos says and waves you to the other side of the counter to sit on one of the island chairs. “Have you seen your phone yet today?”

”No, it died, I need to charge it.” You tell him. “Why? Is the internet on fire yet?”

”Just about, best not check your social media or maybe restrict your comments for a while.” Carlos doesn’t meet your eye, which has you chuckling, he looks at you confused.

”I won’t be doing any of that, I don’t care, it doesn't matter how real our relationship is, no one has a right to say anything about who you're with.” You say and thank him for the food he placed in front of you.

“Still I don’t want you to be subjected to any of that.” You shrug and take a bite of the fluffy pancakes.

“These are so good.” You tell the diver and take another bite, Carlos is proud of himself, he loves cooking and what he loves more is cooking for other people.

“Eat as much as you want.”

”Oh, I will.”

You don’t log onto your social media until you’re back i your home with Lisa, she’s been telling you what people have been saying about you and you’ve both have been laughing about it.

”There’s a lot of baby trapping allegations going around.” Lisa says and you look over her shoulder and scoff.

”As if I’ll ever do that.” You say before you suddenly get an idea. “I have an idea.”

“Ohh, talk dirty to me.” Lisa of course was all for it, she raided your skin care drawer, getting face masks for you both to put on. You get a Ferrari wine bottle out and you both head to the bathroom, putting on the face masks before you pose in front of the mirror with the bottle clearly opened.

”beating the allegations one at a time.” Lisa says as she looks over the picture you take a sip of the wine. “I love this for us.”

In the months after the engagement a lot has happened, you’ve made more appearances at the paddock always with the ring on your finger. Lisa always came with or Anna and you’d spend the night with one of them, keeping the appearance that you're staying with Carlos to everyone else. The fans have been in uproar about everything for a couple months, but things have calmed down, Lisa and you have found ways to always prove the rumors wrong. And maybe Lisa had other reasons to attend races now, that didn't have to do anything with you.

Meanwhile wedding plans have commenced, the parents decided on a winter wedding in Spain, it'll be at the beginning of Carlos's winter break, you left everything for the Sainzs to plan with the help of your family, the only thing you refused is them choosing your wedding dress, or even seeing it. You've been to so many wedding dresses shops, which ever country you find yourself in you'd go to the shops. You've tried on so many dresses in so many styles. Trying to find the perfect one for you.

It took time but you did find the one, standing in front of the mirror alone. You felt it. You may have not given much thought to your wedding before you knew about the arrangement but this is your dream dress. It was just perfect. Everything you wanted and more. It needed little alterations, you just need to do a couple fittings, which you will fly to do before it'll be delivered to Carlos's house in Spain.

Things with Carlos have remained the same, you didn't spend a lot of time alone, which may be in part to you always dragging someone with you, even Lando has accompanied you both on a couple occasions, the Briton has warmed up to you and was one of the few invited to the wedding. You always trash talk your parents with Lando, Carlos always looking disappointed at the two of you whenever you did that, but you did it anyways.

It all went by too fast, it was the day of your wedding, despite the winter air, the sun was out it was a little warmer than most of Europe. You tried on your dress a couple of weeks back at Carlos's house and from the gasps his sisters and Lisa had done, he almost barged in to see the dress for himself. It did take a lot for him to not go into the guest bedroom where you kept it for him to see. He told himself he'll see it soon enough.

And soon became very soon, when he stood in his tux at the end of the alter, no groomsmen, no bridesmaids. A choice you fought your mum on, but in the end you had what you wanted. You had no one but Lisa, and even if Carlos had many friends he could choose form, he respected every decision you made and choose for the wedding.

The music started playing and everyone turned to look and there you were, an angle, lights coming from behind you illuminating you. Oh how beautiful you looked, with a simple make-up look, hair up in a beautiful updo, minimal jewelry all to accentuate the beauty of your dress. The lace, the vale, how the dress hugged your figure, it was all perfect. Soft gasps sounded around the hall as you became in full view.

A soft but timid smile on your face, your hand clutching your dad's as he led you down the aisle, it was all happening now, there's no going back. This is it. You saw Carlos and he looked amazing in his tux, his hair pushed back but not jelled, he definitely refused any products be put in his hair. He looked handsome, his eyes were on you the whole walk and even after you were standing in front of him, he still didn't stray his gaze from you. You're all he can see.

The ceremony goes by, and your smile falters when you have to say I do. You looked up at Carlos with tear filled eyes, as he leaned in and pecked your lips, it only lasted a couple seconds, as everyone clapped and cheered, well almost everyone. Both your friends that knew how you both didn't want to, only clapped halfheartedly.

Carlos pulled you in for a hug, you returned it closing your eyes to keep the tears at bay.

"I promise I'll be good to you, and I'll be loyal." Carlos whispered in your ear and you clutched his suit harder. "I know how hard this is for you, and I'll try to be a good husband to be everything you ever wished for, I don't want you to feel stuck and unhappy."

"Thank you, I promise I'll do the same, we're in this together." You were grateful for his words, he's said it in a way that made you feel heard and felt, something that your family failed to make you feel.

The reception was wild, if you say so yourself, you changed into another dress with no train and easier to move around in. You had a first dance with Carlos, you were surprised with how good he is at dancing.

"Didn't know you could dance so well." You told him after he twirled you around and then pulled you back in.

"I'm a smooth operator after all." You giggle at his words and that makes him smile, he's succeeded in getting a smile out of you that was genuine. Lando and Lisa were watching the two of you from their table.

"You know, this may have all been a bad agreement, but I think they'll be alright." Lando told Lisa and she hummed looking at you both.

"Yeah, I think so, bad beginning but good ending." She only hoped. "You know what I think?"

"What?" Lando looked away form his friend and his new wife, and at Lisa.

"I think if the parents hadn't arranged this whole thing, they would've been dating for a long time and that they would've ended together anyways." Lisa observed and Lando thought about it for a moment, before he too agreed with her. If only they did nothing.

The celebration went through the night, a lot of dancing and drinking happening all around. Too much had happened but it didn't seem that long before you and Carlos got in the back of a car heading for his house where you'd be spending the night before heading to your honeymoon. You were so tired from the day and you haven't been sleeping well the days leading up to the wedding.

"You look tired." Carlos said in the nicest tone ever, you turn your head over the headrest not even wanting to left your own head, and look at him with the most tired smile he has ever seen.

"Yeah, I haven't been sleeping well, and the day has been so long." You tell him and he agrees with you.

Once you're at the house you open the door and there's Carlos already on your side with his hand out to help you out of the car. You walk into his house and kick your heels off sighing at the feeling, finally having them flat on the ground.

"You wear heels way too much." Carlos says seeing how relieved you look with them off.

"Excuse me, Mr. 178 cm, but not all of us are blessed with height." You say and take the glass of water

Carlos had for you. "Thank you."

"No worries." You both stand there in the kitchen for a couple minutes. "I think we should head to bed, we're leaving in a few hours."

"Yeah, good idea."

You went to the guest bedroom, where you had your clothes and everything set up. A suite case set to the side for the honeymoon.

Now you were zipped in your dress by Lisa, what you didn't take in mind is how hard it is to unzip it yourself. Try as you can, you couldn't unzip the first part. It took you 15 minutes to finally decide to go and ask Carlos for help. You stand in front of his bedroom door and debate knowing before you do it, you can't sleep in your dress and you're in a desperate need of a shower. You don't wait long before the door is opened and a naked Carlos with a towel wrapped around his lower half meets your eyes. Your eyes trail over his still wet torso all the way to his face where water drops from his hair.

"Is everything okay, hermosa?" Carlos asks feeling happy with your eyes on him.

"Uh-wh-yeah, yes." You manage together yourself to ask. "I can't unzip my uh, my dress, I need help."

"Just give me a second to wear some pants." Carlos gets into his closet and closes that door, you walk in

a little and look at yourself in the full length mirror he has in his room, your makeup has lasted the whole day, but you can start to see the dark circles under them, you can't help but take in your look, your hair no longer in an updo, it's loose around your head.

Carlos opens the door and comes out in a pair of shorts, you glance at him through the mirror and he walks right up behind you. He gently moves your hair to the side over your shoulder, you're playing with your fingers a little, as the tension rose in the room. As delicate as he could, Carlos took a hold of the small zipper and pulled down. You held your breath as you watched his focused face, he was looking at your skin as more of it came in view, drinking you in. After he's done, his hands fall by his side and he meets your eyes in the mirror.

"All done." He breathed out, you nod and say a timid thank you before you leave the room, his eyes not leaving your back. Closing the door behind you, you lean on it for a second breathing in. Before you head back to your room.

You manage to get a few hours of sleep, before you have to get up to get ready to head to the airport.

Your dad gave you a jet as a wedding present, something you rolled your eyes at when he did, but you're thankful for now, the privacy is something you're grateful for. You're dressed in a white sweat set with the hood up covering your hair and part of your face, no make-up on and nothing done to your hair.

You made small talk with Carlos during the plane, talking about your wedding and how stupid some people were, the dresses some women wore and just gossiping. There was something so domestic about it, you and Carlos interact like any friends would... mostly. Because for you, you've come to enjoy his company, you've come to look for him in a crowed. He gives you the best hugs, and he's always so attentive to your wants and needs before you even verbalise them. In the few months you've gotten to know each other he's understood you in a way no one else did.

Arriving in the Bali, there’s a car waiting for you at the airport, the pick up and drop off were good. Carlos was the one responsible for booking the honeymoon, so besides the destination you have no idea what you will be doing. The resort has a few cabins out on the water, and that’s what Carlos booked for the two of you. He quickly handles check in and gets the keys, before you’re lead to the cabin with someone brining the bags for you.

Carlos opens the door, you see the water out the windows, the cabin is in the middle of the clear water, and there are windows all around the back. It looked like you’d be sleeping in the middle of the sea. You walk straight to the back opening the floor to ceiling glass door to the terrace.

“This looks amazing.” You tell Carlos and a gust of wind comes over you and you smile.

“I’m glad you like it.” It was hard for Carlos to choose a destination, his mum insisted that you two go on a honeymoon, she said it’ll do you some good, you wouldn’t be able to escape from each other so you’ll get to know the other person well. She said it’ll be a good start to the marriage. “There’s only one problem.”

”What?” You ask and turn to look at Carlos and see where he’s looking. “Oh.” There’s one bed. ”It’s alright I guess, we’re not strangers.” You weren’t confident in your words but there’s nothing you can do now.

”I guess, I don’t have anything planned for today.” Carlos tells you and takes a broader look at the cabin. “Thought we might be tired, we can go explore or get into the water.”

”Exploring sounds fun, we can get in the water early tomorrow or something.”

You both change from the airport clothes, into something you’d be comfortable to walk in, so no heels for you.

The island sounded and looked so peaceful, you really commend Carlos on his choice. Your phone was out as you snapped pictures of the lovely scenes, the animals moving in the trees once you reached the forested area of the island you’re in. You managed to find a small restaurant to have a late lunch in.

”When do you have to start dieting and working out for the next season?” You asked Carlos curiously.

”I keep training through the break, but it gets intense two weeks or so before the season starts.” Carlos says and you nod, taking a bite of your food.

”That’s good, what do you have planned for the next four days?” You ask curious.

”We’re going snorkelling tomorrow, and we can go for a swim in some waterfalls.” Carlos starts listing the things he’s planned out for you both to do. “The next day we can go surfing and diving, third day we can go nicking and there’s a hot air balloon we can take, the fourth day we can cycle through the rice fields and around the island, and there’s a lot of clubs we can go to any day once it’s dark.”

”Sounds like fun.” You say and close your eyes relaxing for a moment.

After lunch you and Carlos continue on your little exploration trip before you decide to head back to the cabin. Carlos calls dibs on showering first, so you face the plant on the bed and before you realise it you’re asleep.

Carlos comes out of the bathroom and chuckles once he sees the state you’re in, you’re laying across the bed, your feet in the air, you look so out of it. Carlos looks for an extra blanket and sets it aside, before he moves to the bed and contemplates how to move you without waking you up. He didn’t have to worry though, you were so tired you didn’t feel him moving you so you’d be lying on the bed right, with your head on the pillow before he threw the blanket on top of you.

It takes you around an hour before you wake up, it takes you a second to realise where you are, sitting up you see the last rays of the sun in the distance, and Carlos sitting on the terrace with his legs hanging down touching the water. His back facing you. You get up and make your way to him. You sit beside him and give him a sleepy smile.

”Why didn’t you wake me?” You ask him taking the breathtaking view in front of you.

”It looked like you needed all the sleep you could get.” Carlos hummed, you sat there in silence, both not knowing what to say. “You want to shower before we head out for dinner?”

”Yeah, I’ll go now.”

Dinner had been a delightful yet slightly awkward affair. The resort's open-air restaurant overlooked the ocean, offering a stunning view that momentarily distracted them from their nerves. They had chosen a table near the edge, where they could watch the waves crash against the shore. The food was good and they both had a few glasses of alcohol. The walk back was peaceful with the night air, the wind and the distant sound of the waves crashing.

You and Carlos stood in the doorway to the cabin. The sound of the ocean created a soothing background melody. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. you glanced at Carlos, who seemed just as hesitant as she felt. You had been through a whirlwind of events that led you here, to your honeymoon in Bali, sharing a bed for the first time.

“Well, I guess this is it,” You said, your voice tinged with nervousness. “Our first night here.”

Carlos looked at you, then at the bed that dominated the centre of the room.

“Yeah, it is. Bali is beautiful, isn’t it?” You allowed yourself a small smile.

“It really is. I’ve always wanted to come here.”

“Same here,” Carlos replied, trying to ease the tension. “I never thought it would be on a honeymoon, though.”

You laughed softly, a sound that made Carlos’s heart feel lighter.

“Yeah, life has a way of surprising us.” Carlos glanced at the bed again, then back at you.

“So, um, the bed. It’s... big enough, right?”

You blushed slightly, your cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink. “Yeah, it looks comfortable. I guess we can... just stay on our own sides?”

“Sure, that sounds good.” Carlos nodded. “I mean, unless you’d want to have it and I can sleep on the floor, I don’t mind.”

”No, no, we’re adults, we can share a bed.” You say shaking your head no. “Can’t let the Formula 1 driver have back pain.”

”A few nights wouldn't hurt me.” You give Carlos a look and he laughs. “But I’ll happily sleep on the bed.”

“So much has happened in the last few months.” You say and sit on the edge of the bed, despite telling him it’s okay to sleep in the same bed, you still feel awkward about it. “We’ve come a long way in these few months.”

“Yeah, we have.” Carlos joined you, sitting down next to you on the bed. “I’ve enjoyed our conversations and... your company.”

“Me too.” You smile, a genuine warmth in your eyes. “You’re not as bad as I thought you’d be.”

“High praise!” Carlos laughed, a sound that made you feel more at ease, as he’s grown to make you feel lately. Peaceful. Comfortable. “Seriously, though, I think we’ve done well considering the circumstances.”

Emma looked at him, her expression softening. “Carlos, do you... ever think about what it would be like if we had met differently?”

“Sometimes.” It takes Carlos a moment to answer as he thinks about it. “I think we would have been good friends regardless. Maybe even more, given time.”

“Maybe,” You said softly, also thinking that if you were given the option and the freedom things may have turned the same in the end.

Carlos sighed, breaking the brief silence that had settled between them.

“Well, we’re here now. Might as well make the best of it. Do you need anything before we turn in?”

“No, I’m good. Just... a bit nervous.” You shook you head.

“Me too,” Carlos admitted, his voice gentle. “But hey, it’s just a few nights. We’ll figure it out together.”

You smiled, a feeling of comfort washing over her. “Together. That sounds nice.”

Carlos stood up and walked to his side of the bed. “Goodnight, Hermosa.”

“Goodnight, Carlos,” You replied, getting under the covers. You both lay down, the silence filled with the rhythmic sound of the waves. After a few moments, Yout voice broke the quiet.

“Carlos?”

“Yeah?” Carlos turned to face her, his eyes soft in the dim light.

“Thanks for being understanding. It means a lot,” You said, your voice barely above a whisper, it was something you had to say, you had to put out.

Carlos smiled, a reassuring warmth in his gaze. “Anytime, y/n. We’re in this together, remember?”

You relaxed, the tension easing from your body. “Right. Together.”

You both lay quietly, gradually relaxing into the comfort of the bed and each other's presence. The initial awkwardness began to fade, as the sense of connection they’ve built over the last few months replaced it.

And so the honeymoon came and went. Each day you’d be out all day doing what Carlos had planned for the two of you before you go to the beach, a club, but you’d just fill the day with activities. When it came to the bed situation, besides the first day there was no awkwardness. Maybe it was the tiredness but you’ve found it so much easier to sleep next to Carlos every day. And every day you’d wake up a bit closer, finding comfort in his presence.

The first rays of dawn filtered through the sheer curtains of their bungalow, casting a soft, golden light across the room. The gentle sound of the ocean waves provided a calming backdrop, as if nature itself were cradling them in a tranquil embrace.

You stirred first, your consciousness slowly pulling you from the depths of a peaceful sleep. As your eyes fluttered open, you became aware of a warmth pressed against your back. It took you a moment to realise that Carlos’ arm was draped over your waist, their bodies nestled closely together. Your initial reaction was a mix of surprise and confusion, quickly followed by a strange sense of comfort.

You lay still, your mind racing. Over the past few days, sharing a bed has gradually become less awkward. You had grown accustomed to each other's presence, finding solace in your nightly routine. But this was different—intimate in a way that left your heart fluttering.

You turned your head slightly, careful not to wake Carlos. You could feel his steady breath against the back of your neck, his presence reassuring and oddly soothing. For a moment, you allowed herself to relax into his embrace, savouring the unexpected closeness.

Carlos began to stir, his grip on your waist tightening momentarily before his eyes opened. Realising the position you’re in, he blinked in surprise but didn’t pull away. Instead, he hesitated, unsure of how to proceed.

“Good morning,” You whispered, your voice barely audible.

“Good morning,” Carlos replied, his voice still heavy with sleep. He moved slightly, his arm shifting but not withdrawing. “I, uh, didn’t mean to...”

You turn to face him, a shy smile playing on your lips. “It’s okay.”

Carlos’s expression softened, relief washing over him. You lay there for a moment, neither wanting to break the spell of the morning. The initial awkwardness gave way to a quiet understanding, a mutual acknowledgment of the growing bond between you.

“I guess we’ve gotten used to each other,” You said, your tone light but tinged with something deeper.

Carlos nodded, his eyes meeting yours. “I think so.”

Carlos’s hand moved to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. “So, what do you want to do before we have to leave?”

“How about we start with breakfast?”

“Sounds perfect,” Carlos said, smiling.

When your bags were packed and ready by the door, you decided to take one last walk on the beach. The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm glow over everything. You walked in comfortable silence, your hands brushing occasionally, sending sparks of awareness through both of you. When you both found a good spot you stopped and turned to look at the ocean.

“I have to thank you Carlos.” You said softly and looked at him over your shoulder, he looked confused. “This …trip has been different than I expected.”

“Yeah, different.” Carlos nodded, his expression tinged with worry. “But in a good way, right?.”

You turned to look at him fully and he does the same. “Of course.”

There was a moment of silence, the air thick with anticipation. You were close, closer than you had ever been, conscious that is. Carlos reached out, his hand brushing against yours. Your faces were inches apart, your breaths mingling in the space between you. Carlos’s eyes flicked to your lips, and he leaned in, his heart pounding.

Your eyes fluttered closed, your pulse racing. You could feel the warmth of his breath, the electricity of the moment. It was as if the world had shrunk to just the two of you, the beach, and the waves.

Just as your lips were about to meet, the sudden sound of a ringing phone shattered the silence. You both jerked back, startled, and Carlos fumbled to answer his phone. It was the resort’s reception, calling to remind them of their checkout time.

Once Carlos told you, you couldn’t help but laugh, the tension breaking. You head back in silence. The moment had passed, but something had shifted between you. There was an unspoken understanding, a promise of something more, maybe not now, or soon, but one day.

Once you were back in Spain, you had gotten busy. You were still technically in the middle of moving, you had to fly a few times back and forth to finish getting whatever you needed and getting rid of everything else. You’re officially an online student, with just a few mandatory classes once or twice a term that you have to go in for. Lisa was crying on the last trip, but knowing the two of you, you’d just fly to see her or she’ll fly to see you. Besides since her and Lando started dating it means that if all goes well, you’d be seeing more of her in the paddock.

Your mum decided that she hasn’t heard form you enough so she flies to Spain and comes to your house one random day, Carlos is out golfing with Lando who he invited over for the week, the McLaren driver was staying with the two of you. You planned to use the time to catch up on some unpacking you still have to do, it’s taking you longer than you expected. And you still have to work with Carlos’s things as well. And you just began, since Carlos and Lando didn’t leave until recently before the doorbell rang.

You opened the door to find your mother standing there, her expression as critical as ever.

“Hi, Mom.” You said, forcing a smile. “What are you doing here?”

“Y/n.” Your mother greeted, ignoring your question, she stepped inside and immediately surveyed the house. “Where are Carlos and Lando? I hope you’ve been taking care of them.”

“They’re out golfing, Mom.” Your smile falters, before it falls. ”I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me you were coming?” You ask her again as you watch her look around the house, no doubt looking for something to critique you over.

”You wouldn't have answered.” She tries to excuse herself, you frown.

”I always reply to your messages.” You feel exasperated already, and she’s been here for all of 10 minutes.

”What are you cooking today?” Your eyebrows raise at the question, it takes you a moment to answer.

”Nothing? Carlos is cooking for us tonight.” You tell her and turn to leave her to inspect the kitchen.

“And does Carlos usually cook?” You have no idea where she’s going with those questions so you answer her honestly.

”Well, out of the two of us he cooks more, but don’t worry I always help.” You blob down on the sofa.

“Why is it so messy here?” She asks, coming to the living room, looking over the few boxes still set to the side waiting to be unpacked, the blankets you have sat in the living room used by you three yesterday as you watched a movie after a long day yesterday.

“The house isn’t messy. I’ve just been busy, and I haven’t finished unpacking.”

“Busy? What about cooking and cleaning?” Your mum’s eyes narrowed. “A good wife takes care of her home and her husband’s friends. It’s your responsibility, y/n.”

“Mom, it’s not the 1950s.” You felt your frustration rising. “Carlos and I share responsibilities. He’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself, and Lando is our guest, not my responsibility.”

“y/n y/l/n! I don’t know where I went wrong with you, I did not raise you to be this kind of wife!” Your mum scoffed, shaking her head. You look up at her startled, where the heck did this come from. “A wife should always put her husband first. Look at this place! And you didn’t even cook anything for them? Carlos is working so hard year around, the least you could is cook him meals and take care of him, what man would like a woman that doesn’t take care of him and his friends.”

“I don’t need to cook for them every day, Mom. Carlos and I are a team. We support each other.” You clenched your fists, trying to keep your composure. “And they're grown adults as well, they’ve lived alone for years.”

Your mother ignored you, continuing to inspect the house and muttering under her breath about your lack of domestic skills. The barrage of criticism was relentless, each comment cutting deeper. You tried to defend yourself, but the words stuck in your throat, overwhelmed by your mother’s disapproval.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. “I need some air,” you said abruptly, storming to your room. You quickly changed into a golf skirt and a polo shirt, grabbed your clubs(a gift from Carlos, that you have yet to use), and headed out the door.

Your mother’s voice followed you, laden with disappointment. “Running away doesn’t solve anything, y/n!”

“It’s y/n Sainz by the way! We don’t share the last name anymore.” Was all you said ignoring the sting of her words, You drove to the golf course.

You found Carlos and Lando on the ninth hole, chatting and laughing as they waited their turn. The sight of their relaxed camaraderie only fueled your frustration. Carlos noticed you approaching, surprise evident on his face.

“y/n? What are you doing here?”

You didn’t answer right away, instead setting up your club and taking a swing at the ball. It flew farther than you expected, the physical exertion providing a small relief to your pent-up anger. Lando raised an eyebrow but wisely kept quiet. Carlos walked over to her, concern in his eyes.

“y/n, what happened?”

“My mom happened.” You take a deep breath, trying to steady your vice. “She came over and started berating me for not taking care of the house and you two. Said a lot of misogynistic things. I couldn’t deal with it, so I came here.”

Carlos exchanged a glance with Lando, who nodded in understanding and took a few steps back to give you some privacy. “y/n, I’m sorry. She had no right to say those things.”

“I know that, Carlos.” You felt your frustration bubbling over. “But it’s just so exhausting. I feel like I’m constantly trying to prove myself, and nothing I do is ever good enough for her.”

Carlos stepped closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “

You don’t have to prove anything to her. You’re amazing just the way you are. We’re a team, remember?”

“I just needed to get out and clear my head.” You nod, leaning into his embrace. “Thanks for letting me crash your golf game.”

“Anytime.” Carlos smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Why don’t you join us? Maybe hitting a few more balls will help.”

“Yeah, y/n. Show us what you’ve got.” Lando, who had been listening from a respectful distance, chimed in.

You manage a small smile, appreciating their support. You took another swing, feeling a little lighter with each hit. The repetitive motion and the open air helped to calm your nerves. As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the course, you felt the weight of your mother’s words slowly lifting.

After a few more swings and a lot of supportive banter from Carlos and Lando, you began to feel more like yourself. You knew the challenges with your mother wouldn’t disappear overnight, but having Carlos by your side made it easier to face them.

As you finished the game and headed back to the clubhouse, CArlos took your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“We’ll figure this out, y/n. Together.”

“I know we will. Thanks for being my rock.” You looked up at him, your heart swelling with gratitude and affection.

“Always.” Carlos smiled, his eyes full of warmth.

As you walked back to the car, the events of the day began to fade into the background, replaced by a sense of peace and solidarity. You knew that with Carlos by your side, you could handle whatever challenges came your way. And maybe, just maybe, one day you would find a way to make your mother understand.

The new Formula 1 season begins, and it’s a good start for Ferrari, they’ve been doing good. The testing and the first race already over and a big improvement from last year is already noticed. By the time Saudi Arabia came around, no one had noticed or pointed out the new ring on Carlos’s finger. Or yours for that matter. Your marriage, although not a secret, wasn't announced.

“Are you sure you’re fine?” You ask Carlos, he’s been in pain the last couple of days, he had a fever and wasn’t looking too good.

”Yes, don’t worry.” Carlos was trying to calm your nerves but it wasn’t helping in this situation.

“FP1 has already been hard, Carlos, I don’t want you pushing yourself too hard!” You say and follow him out of his driver’s room and to the garage, a worried look on your face for everyone to see.

”I won't, I promise.” You stop at where you can’t go any further and Carlos turns to look at you, his balaclava in his hands. You look so cute worried for him, eyes wide and sat expression on your face, lips turned down slightly and pouting. “Please, amour I promise I’ll be fine.”

You don’t get to realise how he called you amour for the first time, before his lips are pressed to yours in a quick kiss and he’s turned and heading to get his helmet on. You just blink and look at him, but he doesn’t look your way in the slightest.

“What just happened?” You whisper to yourself.

“I believe your husband just kissed you.” Carlos sr., who came out of nowhere said in your ear. You spare him a look and just turn and go to the nearest bathroom, having to splash some water on your face to calm the heat down.

You manage to compose yourself for the rest of Free Practice, as you watch Carlos put in the times, listening to his team radio, you could tell he was getting a bit tired. But they were looking at his vitals and they seemed okay, he wasn’t called in either so that calmed you a little. After the practice however, you saw him come out of the car, and he looked as if he was struggling a little.

He takes off his helmet and balaclava and his face is flushed red, Free Practices are hard, but they’re not as hard as a race is, so why is his face flushed more than normal.

“He’s fine, don’t worry.” Carlos sr. tells you and you aren’t convinced, he doesn’t sound like he’s convinced.

There was nothing you could do, but walk around as Carlos had to head in for debrief. You skipped lunch in favour of staying with Carlos earlier today, so you decided to grab a bite before you head back to the Ferrari garage.

Your phone rings a while later, seeing Carlos sr.’s name on your screen you pick up.

”Hey, I’m just-“

”It was bad, we’re taking Carlos to the hospital.” He cuts you off rushing.

“What? What happened? Just tell me which hospital!” You leave your half eaten food and rush back to Ferrari, where someone on Carlos’s team was waiting to take you to the hospital. Your knee was bouncing up and down in worry, you couldn’t get there fast enough.

By the time you go there, Carlos is already in for surgery. Carlos sr. pulls you in for a hug as you tear up. “He’s okay, a minor surgery, it’s his appendicitis.”

”I told him something was wrong, but he didn't listen.” You cry as worry eats you up, you’ve just come to realise how much Carlos actually means to you. He’s become such an important part of your life and you didn’t even realise it. Hearing that he was taken to the hospital, made your mind race with possibilities you don't want to think about.

”I didn’t know you cared so much about my son.” Carlos says after you’ve calmed down, you’re both sitting down waiting for the surgery to end.

“I didn’t either.” You say and sigh, Carlos sr. pats your knee in comfort.

Once the surgery ends and the doctors come out, they tell you that everything went smoothly and it won’t take long for Carlos to wake up, and he was moved to another floor. Both you and Senior along with Carlos’s trainer.

“I’m sorry, but for the next hour or so, only family members are allowed.” A nurse stops you three from walking into Carlos’s room. Both you and Carlos’s dad move to enter before you’re stopped again, she gives you a pointed look.

”I’m family.” You tell her, but she doesn’t budge.

”She’s family.”

”I’m sorry, but dating or even engagement doesn’t count.” You scoff and get your passport out, all your papers have been changed after the wedding.

”I’m y/n Sainz, that man inside is my husband, now step aside.” She stands there shocked before she lets you pass. Carlos sr. laughs and follows you inside.

“Hey, Mrs Sainz.” Once more Carlos leaves your heart beating faster than it should, with your face red. He clearly heard what happened outside, and he’s clearly heavy on pain meds.

“You’re an asshole, Carlos Sainz.” You mutter and sit down at the chair next to his bed, apparently you’re super funny, because he laughs as if you said the funniest joke ever. “I don’t get your son sometimes.”

”Me neither.”

It takes a few hours for Carlos to be completely coherent, they’ll keep him overnight to make sure he’s alright before he can leave. With only one person that can stay the night and Carlos Sr. needing to stay next to his only son, you let him stay and head back to the hotel with Carlos’s trainer, with the promise of being back early the next day.

Sleeping in the bed alone feels weird now, after the honeymoon you’ve gone back to sleeping alone, and you’ve missed having Carlos next to you. But since you’ve started trailing again, you’ve shared the same bed. How weird it is for you to miss his presence so much after so little time.

After a sleepless night you get Carlos a change of clothes before you head to the hotel. When you walk into his room, he’s alone.

”Where’s your dad?” You ask him, placing the bag on the chair.

”Went to get some coffee.” You nod at his words, you stand there for a moment and Carlos pats the side to the bed, you sit next to him and sigh.

”You really scared me, Carlos.” Your voice lowered, tinged with sadness.

“I’m so sorry, mi amor.” Your eyes trail up until you meet his eyes, Carlos takes your hand in his. “I thought it was just food poisoning.”

“What are you doing to me?” You ask him your voice filled with emotion, your eyes filled with tears, as all the frustrations, the worry and the love you have for him is just too much for you to handle.

”Wh-what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Carlos sits up slowly, and he’s so close to you, just like he was on that day on the beach.

“You know you kissed me, right?” WAs it the fever, did he not mean it.

”Yea, I’m sorry, if this is why you’re crying I’ll never kiss you aga-“

”No!” You almost shout startling the man in front of you, tears leaver your eyes and you close them for a moment.

”No?” His accent is thick and it leaves you shivering.

”I want you to kiss me.” You open your eyes lips trembling and your eyes meet his. “Don’t you understand? I don’t know when, or how. Carlos sleeping without yesterday kept me up all night. I've become so used to you, I’ve become so attached to you without even realising it. Carlos I love you and I’m scared that you don’t love me, that you don’t feel the same. That thought terrifies me.”

Carlos sits in silence and you think that maybe he was just being nice, he didn’t mean it. It was definitely the fever. You go to stand up, but his hand that still held yours stop you. You look from your hands to his face once more.

”If I had known this is how you felt, mi amor, I would’ve kissed you sooner, would’ve slept next to you every night.” Carlos’s voice is soft, it’s so soft and loving. “I would’ve wished to get sick sooner.”

”Don’t say that!” You punch his shoulder so softly he couldn’t help but smile, Carlos lets go of your hand, only to cup your face in his hands.

”I love you so much y/n Sainz, and I’m so glad that fate brought us together.” Carlos leans closer, his words whispered on your lips. “You’ve made me so much happier than I thought possible.”

With that Carlos closes the distance between your lips, your eyes flutter shut. As you finally feel his lips on yours, electricity runs through your body. Once Carlos got a taste of your lips, he wanted more, he needed more.

“Carlos-“

You both pull apart and look at the door where Carlos Sr. stood with a grin on his face, looking amused.

”You can leave it to the hotel room, this is a hospital.” He’s joking, but no one else was laughing. Your face was so red and you were so embarrassed by being caught kissing… your husband? Why are you embarrassed? He’s your husband. The thought makes you smile to yourself as you go through the bag and show Carlos what you got for him.

Walking in the paddock the next day wasn’t on your agenda, you did try to convince your husband to just rest but he just wouldn't listen. You walk in hand in hand, and it seemed like the nurse at the hospital let it slip to everyone as it seemed like the news of your marriage was laced with the news of the surgery and all over social media. Carlos the cheeky bastard used his left hand for everything that didn’t require the usage of his right hand, showing everyone his wedding band. You had a Carlos Sainz hat on your head, finally with his number and everything.

”Looks like the news is out, Mr and Mrs Sainz.” Lando says once he came over to check on Carlos.

”Looks like it.” Carlos says and pulls you closer to his side, you look up at him and smile.

”I feel like I owe Lisa some money.” Your head snaps to Lando’s.

”You bet on us?”

“Of course.”

“How much?”

”I can’t tell you that?”

”Lando, how much?”

”I promised Lisa I wouldn't say.”

”She’s my friend.”

”Well, she’s my girlfriend.”

”You’re stealing her from me!”

”You stole my friend first!”

”Is this payback?”

”Are you sure they’re on good terms?” Carlos Sr, asked his son seeing how his daughter in law is bickering with the McLaren driver.

”I promise you they do.”

Taglist:

@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Saving What Was Lost Part 1: You’re Safe With Me✨

Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: The first chapter is finally here, and I’m so excited to bring this to all the healing girlies that need a protective, soft Joel in their life 🥺 Thank you to @alltheirdamn and @mountainsandmayhem for screaming about them with me. This is raw, heavy, and very emotional. I hope you love it as much as I do 🥹 Screaming because I need a hug from this man 😭

Chapter Summary: The night of the auction, the night you’ll have to face your fate of being bought. But an unexpected man dips his money in and fights for you. His eyes are soft, kind, unlike all the other men. And maybe he’ll just be your saving grace.

Rating: Explicit 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 13.9k

Chapter Tags: Mentions of being trafficked, flashbacks of being abused, non-consensual touching, a lot of angst, soft and protective Joel, emotional reader, trust issues, PTSD, no use y/n, age gap (reader is late 20’s, Joel is late 40’s), pre-outbreak au, switching POVs

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

  Red. That’s all you see, all you know. The dark crimson lipstick that stains your tainted lips, the cardinal curtains that drape across the buyer’s room, your bloodshot eyes that reflect in mirrors that you can barely stand to look into. It’s all just… red.

   You hate your reflection, hate the mascara that runs down your eyes night after night like the blood that covers your once white sheets, hate the way your voice is silenced even when you so desperately want to scream your lungs out. But it doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing matters because you’re about to be sold to the highest bidder who deems you worthy enough to claim. 

   You scoff, biting your tongue until you taste copper run down the back of your throat, the tears pooling to the surface against your lash line. 

   “Stop fucking crying and suck it up,” Angela spits out sharply. “You’re going to make me a lot of money today, sunshine. So put on a big smile for me and stop smudging your makeup. You want to go back with the girls who didn’t get chosen to go on to the next rounds?”

   “No,” you mewl, your eyes wide and rounded, your heart lodged in your throat. You know what their poor fates will be, and you’ve had enough abuse and horror to last more than a lifetime. 

   “Then get out there and stop fucking around. You’re driving my patience, girl. The men are waiting.” She narrows her beady blue eyes and curls her thin red lips into a scowl, pushing you forward and nearly making you trip over your strappy high heels, your ankles barely able to hold your fatigued legs up any longer. 

   Your heart thunders loudly in your chest, blood rushing through your ears, anxiety threatening to take you down at any minute. Angela would be at your back, digging her spiky heels into your spine, barking at you to move, but what does it matter anymore? You’re already dead. What’s one more scratch to your fragile body that has been violated in ways you’d never speak about aloud. 

   You’re just a vacant body that’s hollow and worn inside. A mere ghost that’s left this earth long ago, imprisoned to this life to bring pleasure to men who only inflict pain and torture on innocent souls. But there’s nothing you can do. Not a damn thing. You’re stuck like glue unless you find a way to just end everything. Then they’d never be able to touch you again because you’d be buried six feet under the dirt. But at least then you’d be at peace.

   You’ll never know peace again. Not in this lifetime. Not ever. 

   As you turn the sharp corner, the vibrant red curtains separate into a stage-like theater room. Draped material clings to the velvety walls, the color reminding you of death and destruction. You can almost see the imprinted blood stains of the girls who got dragged away by the strands of their fragile hair, leaving claw marks in the walls. 

   You can still hear the blood curdling screams from some of them left behind, a plea for anyone who was listening, begging for just one person to help. But no one did. Their desperate calls weren’t enough to even stir up a care in the world from any of the men, including your awful handler, Angela. They were just a number, a dollar sign to every single one of these insufferable men, and the only thing they cared about was power, control, and sex.

   You weren’t any different in this scenario. And tonight, your soul would be auctioned off. And then you’d be enslaved till your master either killed you, or you found a gun and pulled the trigger yourself to just silence it all.

   Your high heels click audibly against the polished stage, your feet dragging as you keep your eyes peeled to the floor like a good submissive. “Keep your head down, don’t ever look them in the eyes. Be the good slut they want you to be and maybe they won’t punish you as much.” That’s what Angela always said for all those unbearable months you lived under her roof, and it was engraved like stone in your mind, imprinted words that might as well be tattooed on your wrist. 

   You were taken at twenty-six, now a twenty-seven-year-old fucked up girl who doesn’t even know what state she’s in. It’s been a year, maybe two. You don’t fucking know anymore. All you know is that you want to die. 

   You learned to be submissive, small-minded, belittled, pliant. And the worst part, she taught you to say thank you to your abusers after they were finished having their filthy ways with you night after night…

   You were nothing but a collared bitch who forgot how to say the word no. You were their prized possession now, and your body wasn’t your own anymore.

   “Ahhh. There she is. There’s my favorite slut of them all.” The word slut cuts you like a sharp knife penetrating deep through your skin, sinking down to stab you right where it hurts worst. “Why don’t you give us a spin, princess? Show these gentlemen what you’ve got to offer. Give them a show.” Garrett’s cackled voice booms through the large room, sending goosebumps down the base of your spine. You never liked him, especially when he cornered you in the bathroom, pushing you against the tile until he forced you down on your knees and told you to suck or he’d wring your neck.

   Your eyes press closed at the traumatic memory, teardrops threatening to spill at any moment. You just do what you're told and keep your quivering lips together, your long nails brushing against your bare thighs. The midnight blue dress barely covers your ass, the diamond earrings and pearl necklace weighing you down like a heavy anchor, tethering you to the ocean floor. Your cleavage spills out from the low-cut v shape of the top, breasts almost on full display because Angela said the men would just love it. You hate it, hate her but there’s not a damn thing you can do about any of it. You’re a slave and nothing more than a fuck toy and a quick money maker for the sex traffickers. 

   You wish you felt more human, but you’re just… not. Most days you can’t even remember your full name, nevertheless your favorite time of year. Being holed up in a horror house for over a year will do that to a girl. Make them forget their entire identity. And that’s exactly what happened to you. 

   Now you’re just… dust. 

   “Alright, boys. Shall we start this off with let’s say, ten thousand dollars?” Garrett’s sharp voice zaps like lightning through your nerves, and your whole body is visibly shaking now. His cold emerald eyes look like a viper about to strike its prey, and his smug smirk makes you want to curl in on yourself, hide yourself so he’ll never be able to torture you again. 

   You hear sounds of squeaking chairs, men cursing under their breath, whistles being thrown around like they’re catcalling you. They are catcalling you. But instead of harmless whistles, they’re poisonous fangs reaching for your skin, trying to seep their venom deep in your veins, claim you as their own. You fucking hate it.

   Taking a deep breath, you focus on the plush of the black carpet around the stage, try to pretend it’s lush green grass instead, like you’re running through the woods, escaping far far away from these bad men.

   “Come on, love. Don’t be shy. Show me those pretty eyes, so I can see just how gorgeous you’ll be down on your knees, pleasuring me with that pretty mouth of yours.” A man vulgarly shouts at you, the other men’s loud laughter echoing around the room, making you want to curl into a ball and die right on the spot so none of these men can lay a finger on you.

   Breathe. Focus. Don’t lose hope. Keep fighting. The words echo through your mind, but you’re so lost that it’s hard to keep going. You’re going to die under one of their hands anyway, so what does it matter? 

   “Did you hear him, princess? Chin up and look at him.” Garrett’s tone is stern and demanding, and you don’t flinch a second because you know what will happen if you do.

   When your eyes snap up, you come face to face with an older man who has cold blue eyes, spiky bleached blonde hair, and a jawline that could cut a man’s body in half. He has an evil glint in his eye, and it’s so revolting that it makes you want to puke. “Ten thousand you say? I’ll take her.” A devilish smirk marks his mouth, and fear strikes through your insides as fast as a lightning bolt. 

   No. Not him. Anyone but him. He looks like he’s murdered people, and you have no doubt that he’s killed women he’s bought before. 

   Fear slices through you, but you can’t run, can’t even move. Your feet are nailed to the wooden floor of the stage, and you know he sees how scared you are in your swirling irises filled with fright.

   “And shall we go up to fifteen thousand? Any takers?” Garrett looks around the room and two hands go up, but you’re too tired to look to see who they are.

   The bets continue, slowly climbing all the way to forty-five thousand dollars. An amount that is insane for a broken body who doesn’t even want to be breathing anymore. 

   Men scream and fight, shouting different prices, trying to win you over, making Garrett slam his fist down and sell you to the highest bidder. You don’t want to listen, don’t want to hear their rambling nonsense anymore. You just want to go to sleep and never wake up again. Maybe then you won’t feel any pain anymore. Maybe then you’ll find peace.

   More chants and vulgar noises come from the men’s mouths, their hungry eyes glued to you, their lips smacking and fingers digging into the velvet of their seats. Some men adjust themselves in their fancy suits, tongues darting out, wetting their salivating lips. And it’s so disgusting that it makes you nearly vomit on the floor, but Angela would have your head for that. So you just stand there helplessly and wait because that’s all you can do. 

   You’re their ragdoll, and they can do whatever the fuck they want with you. You have no say and trying to fight would just make everything that much worse. 

   Minutes go by, ridiculous numbers flying around the room, the air stifling and sticky, your body fizzing with anxiety, a panic attack creeping up against the surface, threatening to take you down in mere seconds.

   Don’t freak out, don’t freak out, don’t freak…

   “Sixty thousand dollars.” Your eyes dart up, panic flashing across your irises. You find a man you hadn’t seen in the very back, and you have to squint to make him out in the shadows of the corner of the room.

   Your mouth nearly drops open at the amount he just said but apparently, these men are dripping with copious amounts of money. 

   You take a few seconds to assess him, your eyes glued to his large form against the velvet recliner he sits in, palms pressed firmly into the sunken arms of the chair. His body is broad, tensed, thick veins spidering down his tanned forearms, a black Rolex watch clasped to his left wrist. He’s clad in a white button-up shirt, black dress pants pressed against sculpted thighs. He’s dressed like all the other filthy rich men, but this one stands out amongst the rest. There’s just something about him that’s different. 

   He drags a heavy hand down his patchy scruff, greying threads shining under the dim light. His tousled sandy hair is slicked back, silver streaks giving away his older age. He looks to be in maybe his late forties, if that. A thick mustache hangs over his plush mouth, but what draws you in the most isn’t anything about his physical appearance but the way he’s looking at you. Soft, gentle brown eyes that have no violence swirling in them like the rest of the men. While the others look at you like a raw piece of meat, he doesn’t follow their lead. In fact, his gaze never hovers, never draws down your body. They just stay locked entirely on your eyes.

   His eyes are soft, dark brown pools with honey flecks glittering in the darkness that surrounds you. They aren’t cold, unfeeling like the rest of the men’s are. They’re… soft. And that alone almost brings you to your knees in relief.

   “Sixty-one thousand,” the spiky blonde hair challenges, piercing his icy blue eyes on you, making you want to hurl at the thought of that one winning you over. 

   “Sixty-two,” the mysterious man in the corner barters. Your eyes snap up to his until you hear Angela’s venomous words spew in your mind. Eyes on the ground unless you’re getting spoken to. Your gaze involuntarily falls to the polished wood, and you hear her click her tongue behind the fancy curtains. You’re nothing but a disappointment to her most days. Never perfect, always pathetic. 

   You bite your lower lip in panic, digging your heel as far into the floor as it’ll go, your nails biting into the palms of your hand, almost to the point of blood being drawn. 

   “Sixty-three!” The blonde pushes out of his chair angrily, his fists balled at his sides, getting frustrated with the man that challenges him. 

   Please, please, please. Don’t let him take me. 

   Praying was something you gave up on long ago but at this moment, you really have nothing left to hold on to. You can only silently beg for the man with brown eyes to win the bid. 

   “Sixty-five,” the brown-eyed man growls, his voice clipped and harsh, letting the blonde know he isn’t going to lose this fight. The blonde glares at him, anger fuming in his icy eyes, a deep snarl embedded in his mouth. You’re almost positive that’s how he’d look night after night hovering over your bed if he were the one to win, but you can’t think about that now. All you can do is wait. 

   “Do I hear sixty-six?” Garrett smiles, his eyes flicking between the two men who look like they’re about to duel in an old western shootout. You already know the brown-eyed man would win. 

   The blonde’s jaw ticks, and he holds back violence in his flexed fingers. After a few unbearable seconds of waiting, he slowly shakes his head and sits back down in defeat. “No. Guess he gets to take home and fuck the whore however he likes.”

   Anger flashes over the broad man’s brown irises, and a murderous stare penetrates his gaze. He clenches a fist tightly, and a part of you thinks he may jump out of his seat and beat him to a bloody pulp, but he doesn’t. And for some reason, your breath is completely knocked from your lungs.

   The deep boom of Garrett’s tone makes you jump from surprise, stirring you from your deep thoughts. “And sold, to the man at the back of the house! Congratulations. You got our rarest gem tonight. Aren’t you so lucky.” 

   The brown-eyed man’s jaw clenches for just a second, but he relaxes it instantly. Walking up to the front of the room, he throws on his pressed black jacket, straightening it as he walks past the deranged men, following Garrett as he leads him to the side where he’ll transfer the money and make it official. You’re his now, and there’s nothing you can do about it. 

   Angela grabs your elbow harshly, pinching skin and drags you off the stage. She should be happy you just got sold, but she’s still acting like you belong to her. “Look at you getting fought over. You just earned me a shiny paycheck. But don’t forget your place, brat. You’re just a body to these men, and you’re here to please them. Sex is what they want, and your new master will surely punish you even more than all the other men at the house did to you.”

   A sick feeling twists up your stomach, threatening to empty your lunch remains from yesterday on the floor, right on top of her shiny stilettos, but you wouldn’t dare. She’d probably kill you herself before your new buyer even got you in the car.

   Suddenly, you realize you won’t have to deal with her backhanded remarks or abusive commands anymore. No more late nights of being held down on the ground and no more non consensual touching from strangers. 

   A feeling like freedom washes over your senses, relieving you of some tension, but you won't be truly free. Not really because you just got sold, and you know nothing about this man. Even if his eyes were kind doesn’t mean that’s who he really is. Men pretend with you all the time.

   When she pushes you up the stairs that lead to the back of the room, the blonde stands and blocks your way, an angry leer in his eyes while he skims his gaze down your exposed body. Something like panic and sickness stir inside you, an unwelcome hand brushing over your bare thigh, his hand sliding higher under your short skirt. Angela just stands back and lets him take advantage, and you have nowhere to run.

   “Well, looks like I won’t be taking you home after all, but I’m sure your new master won’t mind sharing you before you leave, right?” A sly smirk curls against his thin lips, his eyes smoldering with ice and mischief, making you feel extremely small in the moment.

   “I don’t think..”

   “Shut up, whore,” he silences you, wrapping a tight arm around your waist, snaking his hand higher and higher, brushing his fingertips over the thin material of your lacy thong. Anxiety floods your senses, panic taking over. You try to pull away, but he just presses you tighter against his body.

   Where the fuck is he? Where is your master? You’re not supposed to be touched after being bought, at least not by another man. Unless it’s agreed upon by him explicitly. 

   He skims across the outer edge of your lace, his slimy fingers feeling like hot lava boiling you alive. You want to run, hide, scream into his twisted face, but you have no more fight in you. You’re paralyzed by fright and right now,  Angela doesn’t give a single fuck if one of these sick freaks pins you against the floor and takes advantage of you.

   Right when you feel a warm teardrop leak from your eyes and a long finger pull against the thin fabric, a loud smack echoes around the room, and his body is thrown to the ground, blonde hair flitting across your peripheral vision. Your eyes blow wide when you realize what just happened. Your new master just punched the blonde man’s nose and tackled him to the floor, and you can’t stop staring in complete shock.

   “What the fuck man! What was that for?” The blonde tenses up and pinches his broken nose where blood is spewing on the floor in a thick pool, staining the black cuffs of his suit.

   “Mine,” he growls protectively, shoving him once more for good measure. He pulls himself up from the floor and straightens his button-up, ticking his jaw and scowling at the coward lying in pain on the floor. 

   Your jaw goes slack, and your heart thunders impossibly fast in your chest at what just happened. He saved you from getting taken advantage of. Why would he do that? You should thank him, but you’re stunned in silence. 

   He gives you a once over to make sure you’re unharmed and when he’s content, he tips his head toward the open door, signaling for you to follow. “C’mon.” It’s all he says, but you follow nonetheless, desperate to get out of this cesspool. 

   You take one more glance back at the carnage of the room, collecting the memory of the blood red curtains and taking the fancy velvet seats to your grave. The reflective mirrors make you gag, and the wooden stage makes your legs shake at the implication of what it means to be up on that high platform. It makes you sick to your stomach.

   You were just auctioned off and hopefully, you’d never have to step foot into this room ever again. 

   Trailing after him, you stay close. Close enough to inhale the woodsy cologne that drips off his body. You don’t know why, but there’s an odd comfort in the scent. Like fresh pines and a brisk fall day. Something you haven’t got to experience since… you can’t even remember now.

   The guards at the front let you pass, and it’s almost like it’s a trick. Just one more step and they’d be dragging you back by the crown of your head, not even sorry for ripping strands from your skull. You tense up and wait, but nothing happens. They just let you go. And suddenly, tears are pooling in your vision. 

   You wipe away the evidence, afraid your new master will scold you for shedding a tear. Maybe he wouldn’t, but you have so much trauma embedded in you that it’s like it’s an automatic response. 

   Back at the house, Angela would smack you across the cheek if she caught you crying for any reason. She always said tears were a weakness, and she wouldn’t have one of her girls going into a man’s room looking like a train wreck. So even crying brings out the trauma responses. You fucking hate that you can’t show emotion without getting a whiplash of her snide demands.

   You’re broken, and you don’t think you’ll ever be repairable.

   The air is chilly, a full moon hanging high in the night sky, bright stars blinking every couple of seconds behind grey clouds. The trees are mixed with a swirl of colors: yellows, oranges, deep reds that remind you of the shed blood back at the house.

   You shake your head out of the fog and focus on the smell of fresh air and a hint of spice. It has to be the end of September or October. Maybe November? God, you don’t even know what month it is or where the hell you are. This isn’t home. Not anywhere close at all. You know because there’s no deep green mountains or endless forests in sight. Home is nowhere to be found…

   The tall man walks you to a dark black Chevy, unlocking the passenger door and opening it wide for you. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t even offer you a hand. He just stares at you with a slight tick to his jaw, tilting his head to signal you forward. Your body responds in an instant. 

   You climb in, feeling the cool leather on your exposed skin, pulling on the bottom of your dress to cover yourself more, but it barely even moves an inch. It’s no use trying. He’ll probably have your dress ripped off in less than an hour. You’re surprised you even made it this far without him pinning you down to your hands and knees. 

   Shaking the sick images from your mind, you let the invading thoughts float far away as he closes the passenger door. He wouldn’t do that to you. He’s not like those other men. He couldn’t be. He attacked a man for you, but maybe it’s just because he doesn’t like other men touching his property. 

   That’s what you are. Property. That’s all you’ll ever be.

   It doesn’t take him long to appear in the driver’s seat, clicking his seatbelt into place and turning the key in the ignition, letting the rumble of the engine rev to life. You sit back in the passenger seat and try to breathe, letting air pool into your tight lungs. 

   The inside of the truck may be warm, but your body is freezing just thinking of what that blue-eyed demon was going to do to you back there. Panic consumes your insides, making you violently shake in your seat. Your eyes gloss over and then you feel as if you drown in a frozen lake, frostbite making its way across your flushed skin.

   “Whoa, easy there. S’alright now. You’re alright,” he coos, quickly throwing off his jacket and wrapping you in the warmth, draping your arms through the long sleeves and bundling up inside the blanket-like material. 

   Warm. It’s so warm and for the moment, your body relaxes just enough to relieve yourself of the onslaught panic attack. Your erratic breathing shortens, and then you can finally think clearly again, breaking away from the thick fog.

   Your eyes flick over to his, and there’s nothing but pure concern laced in his golden-brown irises. “You alright?” The question confuses you, and you stare blankly his way. There’s nothing hostile or violent in his eyes. They’re just… soft. Like they were back in the auction room. The first time you stared into anything remotely warm since you were taken.

   He lifts an eyebrow in question, and you finally register that he wants you to answer. “Mhm,” is all you can muster out, your words lodged deep in the back of your throat. Men don’t ask you how you’re feeling, so why is he?

   He looks at you for another beat, nodding his head once before you drop your gaze back to your lap like the submissive you should be. Don’t make eye contact. That’s showing control, and you’re not in control. Angela’s taunting words will follow you to the grave, you just know it. 

   He looks like he wants to say something else, but he holds his tongue and lets the truck roll to the long gravel road ahead.

   A sudden realization hits you like a car crash. No more Angela, no more Garrett, no more assaulters crowding your broken body. You’re free. Of them, at least. But your new master? Not so much. 

   The ride is silent apart from the soft rumble of the truck, tires spinning along the quiet road, moonlight shining through the tinted window, reflecting shiny stars in the side mirrors. You haven’t been outside in months, and the sight of a clear night sky makes you want to burst into tears. 

   “What’s your name, sweetheart?” His deep, soothing voice lilts into your ears, and you gulp at the sweet nickname he uses.

   Sweetheart. The men back at the house only called you crude, filthy names. Slut, whore, and bitch were their favorites. But no one ever called you sweetheart. Not ever.

   You take a deep breath in before you speak, afraid your vocal cords will shred apart the moment you tell him what it is. But when he looks over at you all soft again, you break. You tell him your name quietly and avert your gaze back down to your pale thighs. 

   Your name rolls off his tongue like honey, and you can’t help but fight the tug of a smile curling over your lips. He said your name and for once in your life, a little part of you clicked back together. 

   Bravery seeps into your body, and you cautiously peek up and ask something you’ve wondered since you saw his dark brown eyes in the corner of the room. “And your name?”

   His gaze flicks over to you, and for a moment you think his hand might fly out and smack you across the face. You flinch, remembering the sting of every hit your abusers marked you with. Your palm mechanically brushes over your cheek, and you swear you can feel the bright red welts they’d leave on your tainted skin.

   The muscles in his jaw tick as he watches you, assessing your shaky movements. It’s like he can see the pain deep down in your soul, and you don’t understand why he’d care about that. 

   He clears his throat and answers, his eyes attentive to the dark road ahead. “Joel Miller.” 

   You don’t know what to answer to that, so you stay quiet and lean against the window, looking out into the thick fog of darkness. 

   After he sees you trying to decipher your surroundings, his thick Southern drawl fills the quiet. “Do you know what month it is?”

   “No,” you answer solemnly, eyes still focused on the blurring background as the truck drives on.

   “Do you know what state you’re in?”

   “No,” you shake your head, eyes closing for less than two seconds. 

   He sighs, and you see him drag a hand slowly through his scruff. “It’s the middle of October. You’re in Texas. Jus’ a little north of Austin. That’s where we’re headed now. Jus’ about forty minutes away.”

   Texas? Well, that’s a very very long way from home. But you don’t have a home anymore, so what does it matter?

   “Oh.” 

   “Home,” he says hesitantly. “Is it anywhere close to here for you?” 

   You swallow back a lump in your throat and shake your head no, curling in on the warm jacket that envelopes your tired body.

   When you don’t speak again, Joel flicks his eyes slowly to you, his thumb tapping quietly against the leather steering wheel. “Where’s home at, sweetheart?”

   You flinch at the endearing name. It sounds like a knife dragging down a dirty chalkboard if you’re being honest with yourself. You’re nothing but a dirty slut. And that’s exactly what he should be calling you. Not sweetheart, not baby, just… slut.

   When the truck comes to a halt at a dimly lit stop sign, he looks over once more at you, his eyes a dark shade of chocolate. “Washington,” is all you can muster up, thinking you owe him an answer. You can’t even say Seattle without the word getting stuck in your throat. 

   His eyes widen and something like softness resides deep in his warm irises. “You’re an awfully long way from home, aint ya?”

   Quiet. His voice is too quiet, too… sad. And you don’t know what to take that as.

   Tears swim up to the surface, pooling in the corners of your eyes, but you hold them back. Don’t show him you’re weak. “I don't have a home anymore…” 

   His mouth turns down in a tight-lipped frown, and he looks so defeated that you can’t quite understand why he would be. He doesn’t care about you. He never will. He’ll bleed you dry until you have nothing left. That’s what Angela said. And it’s ingrained like a sickness that won’t leave your body. Permanent damage that’ll leave scars like the ones that etch the back of your raised skin. 

   You’re nothing but a vacant body to use. 

   “What about your family? They must be lookin’ for you.”

   Your fingers dig into the silk of your dress, and you almost let them tear right through. “I don’t have a family,” you whisper quietly.

   You feel his careful stare waver over you, but you don’t have the energy to look up. “No? Surely someone’s lookin’ for you. They have to be. A girl like you—”

   “A girl like me what?” you snap, quick to pull back your reins. The last thing you want to do is get backhanded from talking too loudly.

   “Take it easy now,” he presses, his voice gentle and soothing. Almost enough to consume some of your sadness. “ All I’m sayin’ is someone has got to be searchin’ for you. Your parents?”

   You bite your bottom lip hard, chewing the glossy skin that’s marked with invisible bruises. “My parents are dead.”

   Silence carves through the inside of the moving vehicle, but you hear the faint whisk of shock leave his mouth. “Oh. I’m… fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t know…”

   “How could you have? You don’t know me,” you shrug, leaning closer against the smooth interior of the door, your head resting against the cool window that’s doused in fog and sorrow.

   “Well, I’m tryin’, sweetheart. I really am. Do you have anyone else? Maybe an uncle or cousin or—”

   “No,” you interrupt. “They’re all gone… I have nothing.”

   His hands clench tight over the steering wheel, his knuckles turning ghost white, and his jaw ticks like something just deeply upset him. Your eyes fall back to your thighs, but you can feel the weight of his body tightening up against the back of the seat. 

   He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t ask you any more questions. There’s just a thick silence that encompasses the cool air. And the only thing that keeps you warm now is the comfortable jacket that envelops you like a tight hug. A hug you desperately need. But you don’t want to be touched. 

   Not now, not ever again… 

   You’re almost fading off to sleep, the minutes ticking down painfully slow, but the rustle of gravel stirs you enough to where your eyes snap open in surprise. You gulp at the view in front of you. A large, lavish house with floor to ceiling windows and expensive wood panelling.         

   Your eyes peel to the thick brush of trees that expand into darkness behind the giant house. And for just a second, you feel like running far far away into the expanse of darkness. Maybe it’d swallow you whole till you were nothing but a ghost beneath the ground.

   The truck finally comes to a halt and then the engine cuts off. Your body hums with electricity. The kind that threatens to strike you dead. Joel unlocks the truck with a click, and he tilts his head toward the house. “C’mon. Follow me.”

   Your body hesitates, but the anxiety of lagging behind and getting punished sends you nearly jumping from your seat and out the door of the truck. Your feet hit gravel and you follow silently behind him, eyes fixed to the grass as your high heels click after him. 

   You feel like a puppet he’s strung behind him, your limbs moving without your permission. But he hasn’t done anything to you, so why are you panicking? And then your shoulders hunch with knowing. It’s the trauma that’s engraved like permanent ink from a tattoo deep inside your skin.

   You’ll never be able to escape it. Not even when you’re dead and gone.

   When you get to the front double doors, he slips a key in and turns, pushing it open with the flick of his wrist. Your eyes blow wide when you enter the massive house. A sparkling chandelier hangs high above the entryway. A marble staircase sits to the right side of what looks to be the living room. Polished wood covers every inch of the flooring. Exposed beams fill the ceiling, and the white painted walls don’t seem to have a speck of dirt on any of the surfaces. 

   It’s only a two story house, but it seems much bigger than that. Well over three thousand square feet. But the earthy textures and wooden trimmings of the house make it seem less like a prison and more like a, dare you say, home. 

   Home. This is your home now. And whether you’re happy about it or not, there’s not much you can do. Your body tells you to run, but there’s a tiny slither of a voice inside you that says you’re safe. 

   Safe. A word that means nothing anymore. You haven’t been safe in over a year, and a part of you thinks you’ll never be again…

   “C’mon. I’ll show you where your room is.”

   You stop in the middle of the entryway, your brow furrowed at his sentence. “My room?” 

   He nods. “Yes, your room.” He reiterates the word your, saying it like it’s spelled out in capital letters. You think he does it for your sake, to let you know again that this is a safe place.

   “You mean I don’t have to sleep in your room…” Your voice betrays you. Fear and panic flooding your eyes at the thought of having to be forced into another man’s bed. You quickly shake the awful memories from your thoughts, afraid to slip into another panic attack.

   His jaw clenches up, but his eyes soften into warm pools of brown when he sees the distress in your wide eyes. “No, darlin’. Not gonna make you do that.”

   “Oh,” is all you can muster out. That’s… new.

   He nods his head to the staircase, and you take that as your cue to follow. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t put his hand on the small of your back, doesn’t make you go first so he can stare up your dress. And you can’t decipher why he bought you in the first place. 

   Maybe he’s waiting till later to snatch you away into his room, maybe drag you to the floor and climb on top of you. The flashbacks make you sick to your stomach, and you’re having a hell of a time keeping it all inside. 

   You distract yourself with the rustic art that hangs on the pristine walls, reflecting off the marble staircase you climb. Pictures of deer, horses, shiny lakes, deep green forests, like the ones in Washington, scatter around the walls in various shapes. And it calms the anxiety that’s rolling like a violent storm through your mind. 

   A long, dimly lit hallway stands at the top of the steps, another sits on the opposite side of the long archway that overlooks a grand living room, leather couches, and a grand piano sitting in the left corner, right next to a picturesque window that overlooks a sea of trees. It’s just as lavish as other men’s homes, the ones where they’d throw parties for all their friends to indulge in the trafficked girls, but this one doesn’t feel like that at all, strangely. 

   His low timbre pulls you out of the fog, and you find him standing by an open door, the first one on the left. “This is where you’ll be stayin’ at.”

   You follow him into the room and gasp at what lies ahead of you. A queen-sized bed with clean white sheets and a light purple comforter sits in the middle of the room, some new clothes folded neatly on the edge of the bed. A walk-in closet sits to the left side of the room, and it looks to be fully stocked with a colorful array of shoes and clothes that still have their tags connected to the material. To the right is a large bathroom that smells like fresh roses and fragrant perfume, but you’re too stunned to walk in and see. The walls are painted in soft muted colors, and the lilac curtains drape loosely over the expansive back window. You almost cry when you see a sea of dark trees in the distance. They remind you of home. 

   You miss Washington, you miss when you had a home, you miss having a family…

   “I bought you some clothes. Hopefully they fit alright. If not then I can get you more, but I’m hopin’ you feel comfortable in them.”

   Your fingertips trace over the soft material of the various shades of t-shirts, hoodies, sweatpants, and shorts, your brain muted and fuzzy because there’s not a gown or short dress in sight anywhere in the room. That’s all you wore back at the house, all you know how to wear. And the sight of comfortable, unrevealing clothes makes your eyes glossy with tears. 

   You feel his weight shift behind you, but yet he still stands more than a foot back, not daring to touch you. You should thank him, get down on your knees and show him just how much you appreciate this, but you can’t. Because the thought of that makes you want to throw yourself over the lavish wood railing of the staircase. Angela would be so disappointed in you.

   When you say nothing, he clears his throat and then you turn to face him. “You must be starvin’. Let me go fix you something. You like chicken?”

   Your jaw drops, and you’re stunned silent from the ask. He’s asking if you like chicken? 

   He gives you a minute to respond, but all you can squeak out is, “What?”

   “Do you like chicken?” His voice comes out softer, more tender. Why isn’t he raising his voice? Why isn’t he smacking you across the cheek for taking too long to answer him? 

   “I—I… yes,” you finally whisper out, your eyes glued to the shine of his polished boots. 

   “Okay then. It’s settled. I’ll get something fixed up real quick. You can come down when you’re ready. Jus’ please, feel free to wear what you want. Find something comfortable, whatever it may be. All these clothes are yours now. I imagine you wanna get out of that dress you’re in.” His eyes flick down to your midnight blue dress for just a second, but he doesn’t lock his eyes on your body. No. There’s a flash of something like hurt in his deep brown eyes. 

   You tug his fancy black jacket further around you, letting its warmth wrap you tight to keep away the flashbacks of grabbing hands and torn shreds of material on the floor while your body was torn apart…

   “Hey.” His mellow voice breaks you away from the nightmarish thoughts. “You okay?” A deep wrinkle furrows against his tanned forehead, and something like concern washes down his soft brown eyes.

   “Mhm,” you hum, suddenly realizing you’re still wearing his jacket. You quickly shed it and try to hand it off to him, afraid he’d rip it from your body if you kept it on for too long.

   He presses a palm out to stop you and just shakes his head, a tousled curl escaping the gel in his slicked back sandy hair. “Keep it.” 

   Your outstretched arm falls to the side and so does the jacket to the floor. He pays no mind to it falling to the ground, not even flinching when it hits the plush carpet. Why didn’t he scold you for dirtying up his things?

   “I’ll be downstairs. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll let you have some space. And please, take your time.” He turns and walks out the door, letting it shut softly. And then you’re all alone, in a strange place that’s now yours. 

   Your eyes don’t lift till he’s gone, a bad habit that’s been ingrained into your very core. You’re not supposed to look them in the eye, not unless they say. But Joel? He doesn’t tell you to keep your eyes on the ground. 

   Slowly casting your eyes away from the cream carpet, you find yourself at the edge of the bed again, your fingertips hovering over a pair of grey sweats and a navy t-shirt. Turning around to make sure the door is still closed, you quickly peel off the midnight blue dress that’s tainted from dirty hands and prying eyes. You let it fall to the floor in a messy heap and throw on the large t-shirt and comfy sweatpants. 

   Looking at your bare arms, you decide it’s not enough, so you find a dark grey jacket deep in the closet and zip it up to the very top, so no exposed skin or scars are left to be seen by his dark eyes. You still feel completely bare, even with a pair of long pants and a long sleeved jacket. But that’s because in the last year, even if you did have actual clothes on, they were just torn away and ripped apart, and you have the scars to prove it.

   Carefully bending down and picking up the wadded up dress, you smooth it out and run your fingers over the sheer material, almost tempted to put it back on because that’s what you should be wearing. Not some oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. You don’t look presentable, not in these clothes. You should always dress to entertain the men, always have your hair perfect and your makeup just right, always have a smile on your face and say thank you for every single thing they do to you…

   Your body starts to shake violently as you look up to find yourself standing in the reflection of the closest mirror, the mini dress held up to your body, fingers curling over the muddled memories of dinner parties that ended with you and other innocent girls face down on the table with your legs spread.

   Your bottom lip trembles as you look at the twenty-seven-year-old girl staring back in the mirror. You don’t recognize her anymore. Stained blood red lips and long wavy curls, your eyeliner smudging, and the dark creases beneath your eyes telling you just how exhausted and battered your body is. You’re wrecked. Completely and utterly shattered, torn to shreds. And you just don’t know how you’ll ever find yourself again. Because the girl you knew before is long gone. And now? Now you just feel… lost. 

   The tears that pool in your eyes fall like raindrops that pelt the outside window, your body humming with anxious thoughts and a blur of emotions. And the dress burns like fire beneath your palms; every second you hold it brands another forgotten memory into your brain, and then you just crack like shattered glass.

   You tear the dress to shreds, taking out all your anger and resentment on the sheer material, pulling it apart till it’s only unrecognizable scraps on the floor. And you let your tears soak them, stain them just like every single one of those men did to your body. Even Angela. 

   You hate them, you hate yourself, you hate the way they made you feel. Useless and disgusting, a piece of meat they could chew on whenever they pleased. 

   You spend the next half hour crying over what you did, regretting ruining the dress, the one thing you could’ve kept with you, a fragile memory that you should’ve held on to. But that wouldn’t be healing to you. But at this rate, you don’t think you ever will heal.

   You forget about dinner, forget where you even are. Joel had to come get you and lead you down to the kitchen. And yet, he still didn’t touch you. Not even once. And you just don’t understand why he won’t touch you. Not that you want to be touched. You don’t. You just expect it now. 

   When you finally make it to the kitchen, you decide on a black barstool and take your place there at the sleek kitchen island that’s swirled in shiny white quartz. And when he sets a warm plate of chicken Alfredo noodles and a glass of cold water in front of you, you just stare with wide-eyes at the hot meal before you. 

   The savory Alfredo dinner taunts you as it sits right in front of you, screaming at you to just take one bite. Your stomach churns and rumbles with the scent of a put together homemade meal. When was the last time you had one of those? Maybe two years ago. 

   You keep your eyes peeled to the polished wooden floor, your fingers twisted tight against the sweatpants that hang loosely around your thighs. Your body is yelling at you to eat, but you can’t make yourself move, can’t do anything. You were never allowed carbs back at the house, wasn’t even allowed to eat until the men were done. Angela once pulled your hair and pushed your face into the floor when you dared to take a bite before they were finished. And now you can’t even get yourself to chance that again. Even if Joel never would, you feel as if Angela will come charging around the corner just waiting for you to make one wrong move. 

   You’re so very broken…

   “What’s wrong? Do you not like it? I can make you something else.” Joel’s voice is etched in concern, but you only have the strength to shake your head. 

   “No. It’s fine. It’s—it’s great. It’s just…” Your breath is shaky, just like your hands. And you can’t seem to look up from the floor. 

   Don’t ever look them in the eyes. You’re not in control. You have no power. You flinch at Angela’s spiteful words. You wish you could just drown them out, forget everything she ever taught you. 

   “You haven’t even touched your food, sweetheart.” A tear licks at the corner of your eye, but you don’t dare let it fall. 

   “I—uhh. I…” You’re pathetic. You can’t even look him in the eye at the table. Not even when he’s standing across from you, staring at you with those soft brown eyes you know are boring into yours. 

   “Can you look up for me, sweetheart?” The pain in his deep timbre cracks something inside you, and your eyes snap up to meet his. “There ya go. Attagirl.” You wince at the word because it sounds like praise, and you don’t deserve that at all. You deserve to be scolded. 

   “Wanna tell me why you’re not eating?” You choke on your voice when you see those soft brown honey eyes. You’ve never been looked at quite like that. Not with kindness or concern or anything genuine before. And it makes you want to cry.

   You take a deep, steady breath and pray you can muddle some coherent words out because you’re about to spill something very personal that you’re not quite ready to share. “Back at the house… they wouldn’t let us eat until the men were done. We—we’d get punished if we disobeyed.” You flinch at the painful memories but press on. “We weren’t allowed to eat carbs. And some days they’d just starve us to teach us a lesson. I can’t even remember the last time I had a decent meal…”

   Joel’s fingers flex against the sink, his nails digging into the metal, his jaw clenched and something like pain and understanding lit up in his honey-colored eyes. He looks like he actually feels your pain, and you can’t comprehend how he’d possibly know what that pain is like. 

   He nods his head and darts his tongue along his bottom lip in response. “I uhh—Jesus. I’m sorry, sweetheart. That’s fuckin’ awful. I can’t imagine how that must’ve been. But please, eat. You’re allowed to eat anything you want now. You want sweets, sugar, greasy pizza? Then it’s yours. You’re allowed to eat in peace here. There’s no rules in this house. I want you to be able to eat. So please, don’t ever wait for me. You jus’ go on and enjoy.” 

   It takes you a couple of minutes to find enough courage to pick up the silver fork, but you do it. And that right there is a step in the right direction. 

   The first bite slides down your throat slowly and when you swallow, it’s like a slice of heaven to your insides. You quickly take another, devouring the delicious noodles, letting the savory taste melt against your tastebuds, groaning silently at what a real meal should taste like. It’s not cold soup or oatmeal or dry lettuce. It’s actual food. 

   You somehow forget Joel is watching, and it takes you two whole seconds until your cheeks are burning with embarrassment. He’s looking straight at you, watching you enjoy from a safe distance, and you swear you see a small smile curled against his lips. He hasn’t even touched his food. All he seems to care about is that you’re eating. And that makes you feel extremely guilty.

   You take a paper napkin and wipe the Alfredo sauce from your lips, letting the red lipstick smear across the napkin, suddenly fully aware you just ruined your makeup. 

   Flashbacks of getting slapped across the face course through your body, making you sick to your stomach. Don’t smear your makeup, filthy little slut. Go back to your room and make yourself presentable before our guests arrive. Another sharp smack stings your cheek, and you find yourself cradling your cheek like it just now happened to you.

   Panic blindly traces every inch of your body, anxiety creeping in as your heart palpitates at an alarming pace. You ate without Joel, you didn’t wait, you ruined your makeup. Oh God, you’re in so much trouble. Safe. You’re not safe. You need to run, you need to…

   “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Joel’s concerned voice whips through your mind, and that’s enough for you to drop your fork in alarm on the floor, your eyes wild with fright. 

   You’re not safe, you’re not safe, you’re not safe. He’ll hurt you. Run.

  You pull back the barstool and stand, your back tense and fingernails digging into the kitchen island. “W—Why are you being nice to me? Why did you cook for me? Why aren’t you starving me?!”

   His body tenses, just like yours, and his eyes swim with concern. “Sweetheart, it’s okay. It’s all gonna be jus’—”

   “Why aren’t you using me? Use me! Tell me to spread my legs, tell me to get on my knees, tell me I’m worthless!” You scream, letting your voice echo around the clean kitchen, feeling as if your panic attack might take you out this time around. 

   “No.” His voice is careful, quiet, not at all stern.

   “No?” you mewl, feeling the tears prick the back of your eyes.

   “No,” he repeats, softer than before.

   Your hands shake, and you need to find something to hold to soothe your whirring anxiety. So you grab the glass that’s half full of water. “Use me! Tell me I’m nothing! Tell me I don’t matter!”    

   He shakes his head slowly, his eyebrows knit together in rapt attention, eyes crinkling. “You do matter. Don’t for a second think that you’re—”

   “Just fucking use me!” You slam the glass to the floor, letting it shatter into tiny pieces just like your heart looks like. Broken and fractured. You fall to the floor, crying out when a piece slices through your palm, letting the pain serenade your insides, reminding you of all the times you saw red back at the house. 

   The tears splash against your cheeks, falling to the floor like droplets from a waterfall. But you can’t find the strength to let them stop. You’ve held them in for so long; there’s no more room to keep them tucked away inside.  

   Your eyes widen when you realize the mess you made. You broke his belonging, completely shattered it in pieces. He should have your fucking neck for this, and you cower just thinking of the beating he might give you. “Oh my God. The glass. Fuck, the glass. I’m so… s—sorry. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t…” You frantically try to pick the pieces up, but all you do is tear another cut open in the same palm. And now blood stains the dark wood. Fuck. 

   Joel’s at your side in a second, kneeling beside you, trying to calm you down the best he can without alarming you. “Shhh. S’alright. It’s fine. I don’t care about the broken glass.”

   “But I made a mess. I broke your belongings. And I should be punished. I should…” Your voice fades off as the tears blur your vision, completely breaking you just like the scattered shards of glass that surround you. 

   He shakes his head slowly and places his palm flat on the ground, so close but yet so far from brushing against you. “No. Don’t think for one minute you deserve that, sweet girl. Don’t for one fuckin’ minute believe any of that. S’not true. None of it is.”

   “But—but I… No, I—I can fix this. I can clean this up, I can…” Your words come out jumbled and muddled, and the panic still writhes high throughout your body, making you want to crawl out of your scarred skin.

   “Sweetheart, shhh. S’alright. I promise I’m not here to harm you. Jus’ let me clean you up. Your hand. Jus’—let me help you. Please.” His voice is calm, collected, and you have a hard time looking up because you know those deep brown eyes will only make you cry harder.

   You feel his fingertips brush against your wrist, and you jolt back in panic, eyes wide with retaliation. “Don’t—don’t touch me,” you choke, whining as another piece of glass digs into your hand like a knife carving its way deep into your bones. It fucking hurts, but you’ve taken worse. You can manage the pain. 

   He lifts his arms in the air like he’s surrendering, showing you he means no harm. But your body doesn’t know the difference anymore. All you’ll ever know is how to continue to take the pain. 

   “Please. I promise I ain’t gonna hurt you. Let me take care of your hand. Let me help you.” He draws out the last word, the syllables dragging like sweet honey across his tongue. And he sounds genuine like he really does want to help you.

   You have no more fight left in you, no energy to give. So all you do is nod your head and whisper out a defeated, “Okay.”

   “C’mere, sweetheart. Let’s get you up off the floor.” He scoops you up in his arms, cradling your head in the palm of his hand. He doesn’t even care that you’re staining his white button-up red. If he does, he doesn’t say anything about it.

   Your body revolts against his touch, but he’s so warm that you don’t fight it. He smells like firewood and scented pine trees, and that’s enough to keep you calm in his arms. You just nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck and let your tears stain the dark stubble of his patchy beard. 

   “There ya go. Easy now. You’re alright,” he coos gently, lulling you into a calm state.

   You’re freezing cold, even underneath the layers of clothes that wrap like thick vines around your body. But somehow, the warmest thing right now is being in his arms... 

   You’re completely and utterly vulnerable but just for a second, you relax into his strong arms and breathe in the mahogany scent of him. The man that got you out before you completely shattered. For just this moment, you give in to what you really need. Warmth and safety. 

   He feels safe.

   And for the next couple of minutes that it takes for him to get you across the house and up the stairs, you fade into his warmth, blocking out every single panicked and anxious thought. For just those few seconds, you breathe, letting the unruly voices in your mind die out. 

   For just that minute, you’re safe. 

   You come back to yourself the moment he sets you down on a white step stool, warily telling you to hold still, your palm open over the bathtub, blood running down the porcelain material, staining the walls with the crimson of your stupid mistakes. 

   You did this. Your fault, all your fault. You should have never broken the glass, should’ve never lashed out, but you did. And you guess this is how you’ll always be now. A hollow body that just doesn’t know how to live a normal life anymore. 

   You wince as Joel drags the washcloth slowly over your open wound, tears swimming in your eyes the more he tries to assess it, searching for any pieces of glass that may be stuck deep in your hand. And you don’t know why he’s doing this after you had a meltdown because he wouldn’t make you pleasure him. What the fuck is wrong with you? Is this how your brain just operates now? After being stuck in that god awful house, this is what it does to you? 

   You don’t want to be used anymore. You don’t even want to be fucking touched by a man ever again. So why did it hit a nerve after he refused to tell you that you were nothing? 

   “Ouch,” you whine, tensing as he washes the open wound with soap and water, apologizing each time he goes over the sore area. 

   “M’sorry. Jus’ hold on, I’m almost done. Good news is I don’t see any glass in your cut. S’good. Means I can jus’ clean you up and wrap it for tonight. Might be sore for a couple days, but you’ll be fine,” he assures you, working meticulously to fix you up. 

   You flinch each time his calloused fingers brush against your hand, struggling to not push him away. You don’t want to be touched by anyone, especially not by a man. But you can’t shake how warm he felt when he was carrying you to your room. He wasn’t mean, wasn’t rough, wasn’t even hostile. He was just… gentle. Just like he’s being now with each careful graze of his fingertips to your fragile skin. 

   And even though ninety percent of you can’t stand the thought of him being this close to you, you don’t seem to hate him. Not even a little bit. Because whether you want to admit it or not, he saved you. 

   You don’t trust him, you don’t trust anyone. He could turn on you in a second, show you his true colors. But again, he would’ve already done that. Wouldn’t he?

   “How old are you, sweetheart?” he asks, carefully drying your cut with a clean towel.

   “Twenty-seven,” you whisper out, wincing once more from the pressure on your palm.

   “And your birthday? When’s that?”

   You watch his brown eyes flick up to yours, and your gaze drops immediately back to your lap. “January 22nd.”

   He takes a minute before the next question comes, diligently wrapping your hand in a gauze padding. “How long you been gone now? Do you know?”

   You chew on your bottom lip and hold back a tear, trying your best not to fall apart all over again. “A little over a year and a half…” you respond in a muffled tone. “I wouldn’t have even known my birthday passed. But they—they were sure to remind me. Because I was—I was…” you can’t even finish your sentence without a tear slipping down your cheek, holding on for that sliver of sanity you have buried deep inside you.

   His brown eyes gloss over into a deeper shade of brown, and his eyebrows furrow in concern as he stops what he’s doing so he can put his full attention on you. You decide to finish your sentence, needing to get it out of your system. Hoping it’d be a way to forget as soon as the words left your tongue. “They—they had me bent over a table the entire day while a vanilla cake with the numbers twenty-seven taunted me while they ate it in front of me. And then they—-they…” a sob chokes you up, and tears trail like rain down your face, landing on top of Joel’s hand that sits atop his knee.

   “Hey, hey, hey. S’alright, sweetheart. You don’t have to talk ‘bout it if you don’t want to. I’m—fuck. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I jus’ can’t imagine what sick fuck would do that to you or any girl at that. I’m so sorry.” His deep voice is full of pity and heartache, and his chocolate eyes make you want to cry even more.

   You dip your head in anguish and sigh. “Yeah, me either. Maybe I deserved it. Maybe I…”

   He interrupts you, hovering his hand over yours like he wants to comfort you, but you flinch away at the notion. “Shh. No, sweetheart. You never ever deserved any of that. Not in the least bit.”

   You scuff your bare feet against the tile floor, reaching for anything that might keep you from tipping past the breaking point, but you’re way over the edge. You’re all the way at rock bottom. 

   The searing question bubbles up again in your stomach. The one question you’ve been dying to know ever since he called out that number. And you can’t go another minute without knowing. “Why did you do it?”

   “Do what?” he asks, an eyebrow arched in question.

   “Why did you buy me? You could’ve left me with the blonde. You could’ve walked out empty handed.” Your voice is raised, but you keep your composure from sliding again, not wanting another broken glass incident.

   “I wasn’t gonna do that,” he presses, his lips in a tight line, jaw ticking with a dark look in his eyes.

   “You paid thousands of dollars for me. Why would you do that? Why didn’t you just—”

   He stops you right there, a sad look blanketing his face. “‘Cause. My daughter, Sarah. She… she went through the same thing you did. And I couldn’t fuckin’ stand by and watch the same thing happen to you.”

   Your lips part wide, and a gasp leaves your throat. His daughter was taken? “Oh.” That’s all you can say for the moment. You’re stunned in silence.

   Holy shit.

   You try to find one sliver of pretense, a glimmer in his eye that could prove he’s lying. But the way his face falls and his eyes drop to the floor in agony, like he’s in physical pain, you find no lie. He’s telling the truth.

   “Is she still…”

   “Yes,” he nods, eyes in a far off place. “She’s alive.”

   “When did she…”

   He takes a deep breath and flexes his hand over the side of the tub, holding on to something solid while he gets into the thick of what happened to his daughter. “She was taken young. She was only fifteen, taken right under my nose at the mall. She was just walkin’ to the bathroom. It took less than five minutes. And I—fuck. If I would’ve jus’ watched her walk in and stood outside the door. She would’ve never been taken in the first place…”

   He drops his head in defeat, and you feel your eyes widen in shock. You don’t know what rushes over you, but the way his soft brown eyes tear up make yours do the same thing. “Joel?” you choke out, tears stinging against your lash line. “I’m—really sorry that happened. And as much as you might blame yourself, it wasn’t your fault.”

   He looks up with teary eyes and a deep frown, nodding. “Wish I could come to terms with that. But… she made it out. I found her and got her out. And that’s what matters.”

   “How old is she?” you ask quietly, your left hand brushing over your fresh bandage, careful not to tear the material. 

   “She’s twenty now. Livin’ down in Houston, startin’ her sophomore year of college, and workin’ as a part time vet tech at a clinic specializin’ in horses. She absolutely loves it,” he smiles, his eyes turning into a lighter brown the more he talks about how much she’s grown over the years, leaving behind her trauma.

   “That’s incredible. More than incredible. Just—wow,” you breathe out, your eyes casted down to the floor, wishing you could heal like that. But at this rate, you don’t think you’ll ever get over the immense trauma that occurred to your body and mind.

   He licks his bottom lip in thought, his eyes burning into yours. And you see it even out of the corner of your eye. He’s concerned for you. “It took her a long time to adjust back to a normal life. We had a rocky time there for ‘bout a year, but she got the help she needed. She was only gone a couple months, but that was more than enough time to give her PTSD and mentally scar her. But she’s shining now, finally at a place where normal life isn’t as scary as it used to be.”

   Another tear slips free and splashes to the floor, creating a tiny puddle of your shattered heart that’s made of tears. “I’m so happy for her. Sarah sounds amazing.”

   “Mmm, that she is. I’m gonna give you her number. Think it’d be good for you to connect with someone who’s been through something as traumatic as this.”

   Your mouth gapes open, and you tilt your chin up until you come face to face with him. And he looks… kind. He is kind. “But I don’t have a phone anymore…”

   “I’ve already got one ordered and on the way for you.”

   “What?” you ask with wide eyes. He gives you a small smile that curls against his lips. And you nearly sob from the gentle way he’s looking at you. “You didn’t have to do that.”

   “Yes, I did. And I have a therapist on speed dial. Her name’s Tess. She’s the best of the best. If there’s one therapist I trusted with Sarah then it’s her. Trust me, Sarah went through a lot of them, and Tess was the most helpful. And she’s helped so many other girls, too. Not just Sarah.”

   Other girls? Did he help get other girls out? You have so many questions. “Why are you doing all this for me?”

   “‘Cause I wanna help you,” he states simply, his thumb tapping against the side of the tub, eyes focused right on you.

   “But why? I’m… nothing,” you whisper, bottom lip quivering, afraid you’ll break down in tears once again. And you most likely will. You feel it deep in your bones.

   He shakes his head in response. “Sweetheart, no. Don’t say that ‘bout yourself. You’re not nothing. You’re somebody, and you matter. Whether you believe it or not, you matter.” His words are definitive, final, but his voice is as soft as cotton candy.

   “I… matter?” you ask, voice shaky from the kaleidoscope of emotions that pummels through you.

   He nods, eyes alight and glittering under the bright bathroom lights, a soft smile curled on his lips. “Do you know what I saw when you were standin’ in the middle of that room tonight? I saw a young woman that was worth saving. I saw a light deep inside those pretty eyes of yours that was jus’ screamin’ for someone to hear you. I heard you. And I wasn’t gonna jus’ leave you there to be preyed on by those starvin’ wolves. So I got you out.”

   You’re breathless, lips parted in awe. “But—but I…”

   “Look. You may not be fine tomorrow or next week, but someday—someday you will be. And I’ll try my damn near hardest to make sure you are. And if you’ll let me, I’ll see that you’re kept safe. Whether you choose to leave next week or next month or in a year. I promise I’ll do what I can to make sure you feel safe and that you can learn to thrive in life again. Trust me when I say you will get there. Jus’ gotta take it one step at a time. That’s all you can do. One day at a time.”

   Tears pool in your eyes, soaking them up like the promise of his words. I’ll keep you safe. He wants you to stay, to heal, to thrive. He’s trying to help you, and you just don’t know what you did to deserve his help, but you’re eternally grateful. And even though you’re scared, maybe you don’t have to be scared of him.

   After he puts away the gauze and the bathroom supplies he used to clean your hand with, he lets you get settled into bed. But before he walks out, he raps his knuckles on the doorway and clears his throat. “My room is jus’ across the hall if you need anything. I’ll be up, so don’t hesitate if you need something.”

   You nod your head, pulling the fluffy comforter up to your chin, too tired to give him a smile.

   He tilts his head and starts heading out the door, but before he can turn the doorknob all the way, you call out. “Joel?”

   “Hmm?” he hums, turning his head, directing his full attention your way.

   “Thank you,” you whisper, your eyes telling him everything that your words can’t.

   He curls his lips into a half smile and nods. “Don’t mention it, sweetheart.” And when he walks out and closes the door, you hear him say, “Sleep tight.”

   You want to know more about how he found Sarah, what he meant when he said he’s helped other girls before, how he found you in the first place. But you’re tired. You’re so fucking drained. Maybe tomorrow you’ll find the strength to pull yourself together and ask but not tonight. Tonight you just want a full night’s sleep. Something you haven’t had since you were taken. So you close your eyes, focus on the soft patter of rain on the window, put all your anxious thoughts to the side and drift into the dark depths of a sea of blackness. 

   And then you sleep.

   Hot pain shoots through your wrists like a jagged knife splitting you open, painting you scarlet. Dirty fingernails shred your skin, clawing you until you taste blood in the back of your throat. You can’t speak, can only silently scream. A muted cry for help that no one else can hear but you. Chains fasten to your ankles, pulling your legs apart, grimy men surrounding you, suffocating you until you seep into the the blackest pit of despair. 

   Trapped. You’re held captive against your will, your body on full display, eyes wide with fright every time they snake their filthy hands around your throat, hot breath fanning against your core until you scream bloody murder over and over again. 

   But no one comes; no one saves you from this pit of hell. 

   Dead. You feel dead, and they just keep bringing you back from the grave with every touch they steal. 

   You thrash against the sheets, screaming for help, tears staining the brand new comforter, but you’re still trapped in the horrific nightmare with the demons of your past torturing you way beyond the point of pain.

   “No, no, no! Get off!” you cry as you feel a body dip into the side of the bed, drastically trying to escape what’s to come. “Stop, stop!”

   A voice. Deep, intense, wrecked sounds in your fuzzy mind, trying to grasp you out of your nightmare.

   “Wake up. Wake up.” It’s muddled, almost unrecognizable. But it’s insistent, a loud gong that spirals into your racing mind.

   “No, no, let go!” you mewl, twisting violently in the sheets when you feel the mattress dip down further, spiraling your thoughts further.

   “Sweetheart, wake up. Please. You have to wake up!” He shouts, stirring you from your nightmare, but the men reach for you, dragging you back under the thrashing waves, but you extend your arm, fighting the tossing sea, battling the teeth that gnash at you. 

   “Stop, let go!” Your flesh stings as they continue to tear you apart, dragging you down down down until that sweet Southern drawl that sounds like honey resonates throughout your mind, and the fog starts to clear just a little. 

   “It’s me, I’m right here. Open your eyes, please!” Deep. That thick baritone voice crashes through your mind, pulling you away from all the insufferable noises.

   Your eyes snap open, realizing you’re pounding your fists into his broad chest, barely making a dent because he’s that strong. And then your anxiety races, building horrific hallucinations in your mind. And you just keep throwing everything you have at Joel, tears spilling down your cheeks, your t-shirt drenched in a cold sweat. 

   “The men… They—they…” You choke out a sob, continuously throwing your arms against his chest, taking everything you have bottled up inside you and spilling it all over Joel, showing just how bloodied and bruised you are from the traumatic events. 

   The stage, the men, Angela, the blood, the torture, the misery, the deaths, the excruciating pain of it all. It’s too fucking much, and you just want to die. Maybe then you’ll be at peace, away from the weight of everything you’ve kept resting on your shoulders. Like a rock weighing down on your chest, crushing you till you’re nothing but dust. You feel like dust. Faded, dirty, and useless.

   “S’alright, sweetheart. It was jus’ a nightmare. You’re safe,” he soothes, his calming voice bubbling up and taking some of the anxiety off your weighted chest. 

   “But it was real…” you choke out, your vision blurring with the salty water that forms in your eyes. 

   A tear slips free, crashing down to his hand, smothering it in cold, icy liquid. But he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even back away. He just stays sitting next to you, careful not to touch you or reach for you. He’s just… there. And somehow there’s comfort in that. 

   He stares at you like a lost puppy, chocolate eyes melting, tears filling his own concerned eyes. And you keep hitting him, your hands growing tired from the balled up fists punching against his chest. And he just sits there and takes it, like it doesn’t bother him one bit.

   “Let it out. Give me your pain. I can take it, sweetheart. You jus’ take it out on me. As long as you need. You want a punchin’ bag then let me be that for you. Whatever helps, you jus’ go on and let go,” he says softly, brows threaded together, big doe eyes consumed in pain. It’s like he’s as wrecked as you are, and that makes you cry even harder. 

   “Joel…” you break, dropping your tired arms to the bed, curling your fingers into the soft comforter, trying to lose yourself in the soft rain that pelts the back of the window. 

   You’re so tired and drained and ruined. They ruined you, and you hate every single one of them for taking away everything. Your dignity, your pride, your body, your life, your mind. They took everything.

   “I know, sweet girl. I know. Shhh. S’alright. I’m right here. No one’s gonna hurt you anymore. Not while I’m here,” he whispers, his woodsy scent grounding you back to earth, calming you down just enough to focus on how soft his eyes are.

   Soft. Just like velvet. He’s so soft.

   He just sits there patiently, waiting for your cries to die down, waiting to know you’re okay. But you’re not okay; you never will be okay. You’re just a tree in a sea of thousands, but your branches are withered, leaves falling, and maybe you’ll never bloom again. 

   You focus on his soft brown eyes, the light tap of raindrops, your erratic breathing slowing to a normal pace. You’re so tired. Tired of fighting the panic attacks, the flashbacks, the pain.

   You’re just… tired.

   “You gonna be alright, sweetheart? Think you can get back to sleep?” he asks thoughtfully, his voice warm like a fresh cup of coffee, his scent permeating around the room, keeping you from spiraling again. 

   You take a deep breath and nod, pulling the comforter under your chin, trying to control the chill that runs down your spine. “I think so,” you say slowly, your voice still a little shaky.

   He tilts his head and scratches the back of his neck, a tight-lipped smile forming over his lips. “Alright, I’ll let you get back to sleep then. You come knock on my door if you need me.”

   When he pushes off your bed and pads over to the open door, he calls out and says, “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

   Panic consumes your mind just thinking of being alone again with your nightmares, your body trembling underneath the warm sheets. And before you know what you’re thinking, you stop Joel in his tracks. “Joel?”

   And just like before, he turns and arches a brow, questions reeling in his calm brown eyes. “Hmm?”

   “Can you… would you mind staying with me? I just… I really don’t want to be alone.” Your voice is shaky and nerves pull through your body, but for some reason his presence just gives off that impression of safety. 

   You don’t trust him yet, not really. But he’s got the softest aura swirling around him, and you just know he won’t hurt you. He’s already proved that.  

   You’re safe…

   He smiles, running a hand through his thick curls, his bicep flexing under the weight of the white t-shirt, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. You might’ve thought he was handsome under different circumstances, if your brain wasn’t ruined from trauma, but the only thing that seems to capture your attention is his soft brown eyes. The only kind ones that were in that auction room tonight. 

   “‘Course I will, sweetheart. Whatever makes you feel safe,” he says, walking over and sinking down into the champagne colored saucer chair by the open door, eyes locked on you. 

   You mold yourself to the cool mattress, the sheets wrapping loosely around your legs. You stare at him for a couple of minutes, using his woody scent to calm you down. He reminds you of Washington, of your favorite pine trees. He smells like home, when you had one. Tears line your lids, but you close your eyes and get lost in the rain, until your breathing is shallow and slow. And then you’re out like a light.

   He keeps his eyes fixed on you, watching for any signs that you may be in distress. Every whimper and strangle against the sheets makes him jump up, ready to take you from your vicious nightmares, but they don’t come. Not like the one that had you screaming bloody murder, tears staining your pretty eyes. 

   Scared. You’re so very scared, fragile. Just like the glass that ripped you open, staining his white button-up crimson. He hates that that’s how they made you feel. Afraid of men, to be broken again. They took it all from you and he fucking hates them for it. 

   They hurt you, ruined you. It makes him sick to his stomach, makes him want to hunt down every single man who put their filthy hands on your sacred body. He’d chop their hands off so they could never touch you again, take a gun and end their pathetic lives. That’s what he did with Sarah’s kidnappers, when he found out who took his precious daughter. And he’d do it for you too. In fact, he’d search the whole goddamn map to wring the necks of any man who even thought of putting their filthy paws on you.

   He’s not against violence, not when he spends half his time working to take down auctioneers and human traffickers. And the blonde man that tried to violate you tonight would be the first to go. That one he’ll take down himself. 

   He stays up the entire night, never letting his eyes close, afraid you’d start drowning again. But he won’t let you slip beneath the rocky waves; he’ll keep your head above water, pull you out, do his very best to make you feel safe.

   Safe. You’re safe here with him. And even if you don’t trust him yet, you will. He’ll make sure of it. He saw the absolute terror in your eyes on that stage, and he just couldn’t leave you with the venomous snakes in that house. You have a long road ahead of healing, but he’ll be there to help you through it. 

   A beautiful girl like you deserves a second chance at life, and he’ll give it to you. Pretty flowers don’t deserve to wilt. They deserve to thrive. 

   And you will. 

Tagging those who seemed interested 🩷 @joelsgreys @amyispxnk @whxtedreams @clawdee @jellybeanxc

@lotusbxtch @thebeldroramscal @laurrrra @sawymredfox @sanarsi

@christinamadsen @missannwinchester @aurorawritestoescape @evolnoomym @littlevenicebitch69

@milla-frenchy @magpiepills @604to647

[ventismacchiato]

O6 stuck with you — crash course on how to not be an idiot !

scaramouche x gender neutral reader

“Why are you just standing outside the door like a creep?”

You turn to see Scara standing behind you, adorned in sweatpants with bags under his eyes as his members slowly catch up with him. You have the knee-jerk reaction to argue with him.

“I’m not,” you defend, “You’re the one running late, is someone scared?”

“You’re the one who hasn’t gone inside,” Scara points out, reaching out to grab the doorknob but you jut your arm out to stop him, “I was right, you are scared,” Scara smirks.

You swelled up, stepping back and squaring your shoulders, and Scaramouche was immediately certain that the next words out of your mouth were going to be a lie.

“I’ll have you know…,” you caught sight of his dubious expression and seemed to deflate right before his eyes.

“I heard your mom’s attending the meeting,” you easily lie.

Scara immediately takes his hand off the doorknob.

“See, I’m not the only one scared!” you gloat.

“I’m not scared of my own mom,” Scaramouche replies. But there was an edge to his words that made you wonder if you’d just stepped on a landmine. But, being the stubborn idiot you were you barrelled on regardless, hoping to cover up the tension by burying it with more words.

“Just admit you don’t wanna go in either, wouldn’t kill you to stop acting like a smartass for two seconds.”

“I don’t act like one, everyone’s just smarter compared to someone like you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re proving my point.”

“Fuck you, I-.”

The door gets thrown open by an exasperated Jean who is looking at you both with a solemn expression.

“Just when I thought you both were getting along,” she says, stepping back to gesture you both inside.

“We are!” you speak up, “Please don’t put us on hiatus again!”

“We weren’t even arguing,” Scaramouche adds, rather unconvincingly.

“Yeah, I love this little guy!” you lie. 

You both give her a strained smile as she sees through your bullshit. 

“I wish I believed you,” she sighed, “We really need to work on your acting skills.”

“Why would we—,” you don’t get to finish your question before the rest of your group members barge in after you, forcing you to attend the meeting you’ve all been dreading all week.

///

“So, before we continue with my portion of the meeting Lisa is going to give a crash course on media training,” Jean says, gesturing to Lisa standing in front of you all with a rather pointy pointer in her hand.

“Welcome to Lisa’s crash course on Media Training,” your manager smiles, “If you guys answer anything wrong then I’ll hit you with this stick!”

“Lisa, you can’t hit them,” Jean interrupts.

“Really? What’s the point then?” she sighs dejectedly, “Ok moving on. I’m going to throw some scenarios at you, and I want you both cuties sitting in the front to listen.”

You and Scara awkwardly avert eye contact with her and shrink in your seats.

“Scenario one, if you and another group under the same entertainment tie for an award, what do you do when you get on stage and there’s only one trophy?” Lisa asks, eyeing you.

Suddenly the shoes you’re wearing become rather intriguing.

“I think-,”

“Not now, Childe, honey,” Lisa interrupts, pointing at Scaramouche who was forced to sit next to you, “I want to hear from him.”

“Share the award,” he grumbles.

“Exactly! Basically the opposite of whatever you both had going on,” Lisa muses, “Even if you both hate eachother you want to appear nice in front of new fans and sponsors. How about you both come on up here and act it out!”

“I’d rather not,” you start, but Lisa is already grabbing you and Scara and pushing you to the front, taking your seat.

“Go on, pretend that book is the award,” Lisa points as you pick up her book. 

“Why is the cover some shirtless guy?” Childe asks.

“Not now, hun,” Lisa hums as she waves him off, “Continue.”

Scara stares distastefully at you and the scenario you both were in.

“Wow. Congrats on the award,” he praises in a monotone voice. He pauses for a second before clapping his hands just once.

“Thank you,” you say back, your face neutral as you hold the book up, “What an honor this…is.”

The room is silent for a few seconds before someone speaks up.

“That was terrible,” Venti boos.

“It was rather…not good,” Lisa says, “There’s no nice way to put that. But better than screaming at eachother.”

“I only yelled because he yelled first,” you defend, tossing the erotic book aside, “Maybe he should be working on his media skills.”

“Maybe you should work on not being a sore loser,” Scara shoots back.

“Better than being just a loser.”

“Ironic coming from you—.”

“Alright!” Lisa claps as she stands up, “Back to your seats you go, I’ll just email the powerpoint to you both. That’ll be better.”

“Let’s take five and I’ll get into the main reason we’re here,” Jean sighs, “Ease up.”

“Listen guys,” Jean drawled, leaning on the back of one of the chairs as everyone got situated once again, “We are low on publicity after that scandal at the award ceremony.”

“What does that have to do with us?” Scaramouche mumbled. 

Everyone shoots him a look.

“Okay, I admit it’s our fault. But isn’t everything fine now?” you say, taking the bullet. 

“Well, sort of,” Jean starts, “But in order to keep our appearance high we’ve decided to host a show starring you all.”

“It was an idea we scrapped a while ago, but kept in the back just in case,” Lisa smiles, “A dating show!”

The room was silent before a ruckus exploded.

“What do you mean by dating show?” Lumine asks, “Who the hell are we dating?”

“Do we even have time for a show?” Kazuha pipes up.

“Where is the show going to be? Is it gonna be like the bachelor? Can I be the bachelor?” Childe rambles, “Wait, I wanna be one of the girls who fights for a rose.”

“If it’s the bachelor then are we all going to try and date one person?” Aether muses. 

“This is stupid,” Scara states. And for once you agreed with him.

“Everyone, hush!” Lisa interrupts, raising her voice to get everyone to quiet down, “Let me explain before you get your panties in a twist.”

“Our panties in a what?”

“Now not Childe,” Lisa sighs, “Okay, Jean, take it away. And everyone save your questions for the end.” 

“The dating show will be with all of you,” Jean states, “Later on we will add a few extra people, at most three, who will also be idols. It won’t be like the bachelor, but more like Love island if I had to compare. We’ve rented out a private island where this will be recorded.” 

“We can always script random shit for views, so don’t stress too much,” Lisa adds, “But it’ll be better if it’s authentic. That being said, there’s only two of you in this room who will be following a script and have to end up together.”

Jean and Lisa both gesture to you and Scara.

“Scaramouche and Yn, you both will be fake dating on this show. And if need be after the show we can have a fake break up where you end on good terms, or have you both continue to date,” Jean explains casually as if she was simply recounting the weather.

The room is silent before everyone but you and Scara erupt into laughter.

“Oh my god,” Venti cackles, “This is going to be great.”

“I can’t wait to see you both kiss,” Childe grins.

“How the fuck is this supposed to mend our image?” Scara speaks up.

“Believe it or not, love, people ship you both,” Lisa smiles, “Even though you both are gremlins. So the fans and media will eat this up.”

“Why can’t I date someone like Lumine or Venti instead?” you question.

“I’ve seen farmers markets with less fruit, try again,” Scara remarks.

“Fuck off,” you sigh, not willing to accept your fate.

“Wait, so do the rest of us have to find someone to fake date?” Aether pipes up.

“Honestly, the rest of you can do what you want as long as you keep it interesting and reasonable,” Jean answers, “You guys can fake date or actually date your members for fun, I suppose.”

“If the show gets bland we’ll assign designated couples and scripts but you guys will mostly have free will,” Lisa adds on.

“Wow,” Childe whistles, “So who wants to cheat with me on live television?”

Lisa stares at him for a moment.

“Okay, everyone but Childe has free will.”

“Don’t damage your images even more,” Jean sighs. 

“Dibs on Yoimiya,” Lumine quickly says.

“We’re calling dibs?” Venti asks.

“Then I want Xiao,” Kazuha muses.

“Let’s team up Aether!”

“Guys,” Jean sighs, “You can sort the details later and in private, for now we just need you to sign some forms so we can get production going.”

“What if I don’t wanna do it,” Scaramouche asked, already halfway out of his seat. 

“Too bad, we’re writing this off as a free holiday. And according to Section 3E in your idol contracts, it’s mandatory you take one every year.” Lisa grinned, pulling out a stack of papers. “Sign away cuties, no escaping this.”

Scaramouche slowly sat back down, staring down at the contract with a look of disappointment in his eyes. 

“This will be a good chance for you guys to get to know each other as friends, idol work is exhausting and can strain relationships!” Lisa explained as she passed out pens, “This is a great opportunity for you guys to relax!”

You stared down at the piece of paper in front of you, skimming the clauses.

Idols Inferno™ Participation Contract This contract outlines the terms and conditions for participation in the dating show Idols Inferno™ hosted by former idol Yae Miko, hereinafter referred to as "the Show". The Show will take place on TG6, a private island accessible via plane from Teyvat. 1. Participation Participants agree to actively participate in the three-week-long Show, adhering to the rules and guidelines set forth by Sakura Entertainment, the production company. 2. Accommodations and Activities Participants will be accommodated together at TG6. Regular idol training activities will be suspended during the duration of the Show. Participants are strongly advised against engaging in such activities. 3. Filming and Media Rights 3a. Camera crews will capture footage of participants throughout the filming period, with the exception of private areas such as restrooms. Hidden cameras and microphones will be installed throughout, including bedrooms. 3b. All footage captured during the Show remains the sole property of Sakura Entertainment, which retains the right to use and distribute it publicly. Participants forfeit any claim to ownership of footage in which they appear or that includes other participants. 4. Confidentiality Participants agree to maintain strict confidentiality regarding the content, activities, and outcomes of the Show until the official airing date. Disclosure of behind-the-scenes information before this time is strictly prohibited. 5. Electronics and Communication 5a. Personal cell phones and electronic devices are strictly prohibited during filming. Devices must be securely stored and may only be used outside of filming hours. Violation of this rule may result in confiscation of the device. 5b. A communal television and house phone will be provided for public use in the dormitory area. 6. Scripted Interactions 6a. Participants Scaramouche Shogun and Yn Ln are required to portray a fictional romantic relationship as scripted by the Show's producers. This may involve physical contact and specific dialogue as outlined in the provided script. 7. Dispute Resolution Any disputes or disagreements arising from this contract or during the filming of the Show will be resolved through mediation, arbitration, or another mutually agreed upon method. 8. Schedule and Production Details a. A tentative filming schedule will be provided to participants outlining key activities and events. Participants are expected to adhere to the schedule as directed by the production team. Please review and sign below to indicate your acceptance of these terms. Participant Name: ________ Date: Representative Name: ________ Date: 

You signed away your fate, sighing dejectedly. 

“Why are you standing like that?”

You scoffed, suddenly self conscious about your body.

“This looks natural, shut up.”

You had found Scara waiting for you in the lobby but once he caught sight of you he started walking ahead, leaving you behind as he started scouting outside for a good photo spot. He didn’t waste any time in ordering you around, and maybe it was the events of the day and how late it was at night, but you found yourself complying.

“You’re supposed to look like you’re having fun,” he berates.

“As if you’d know what that looks like, you rarely even smile,” you say back from where he had you stand by a tree.

“I do, just not around you.”

You roll your eyes as you sit on a bench you guys stumbled upon. It was late into the night and you both were wandering the streets your dorms were located on, but since you guys were isolated due to being idols there weren’t many places to hang out let alone fake a photoshoot.

“You’re helpless,” he mumbles, stepping forward and grabbing your legs to swing your body to the side of the bench so you’re laying down.

“Hey–!”

He joins you and sits on the other side of the bench, grimacing as he places your legs onto his lap.

“Take a photo,” he instructs.

“This is weird,” you say, not enjoying how Scara oddly had a keen eye for posing couple photos. You comply and take a few, showing Scara who immediately deleted them. After doing that for almost five minutes he was finally satisfied and pushed your legs off of him.

“Post it, now we’re done,” he says, getting up and walking back to the dorms.

“Wait up,” you huff, walking one pace behind him. You weren’t about to walk alone at night, even if your only other option was tailing Scaramouche.

He didn’t say another word until you guys reached your dorm buildings. Before he turned to head back he spared you a look.

“Let’s just get this fucking show over with.”

For once, you didn’t disagree.

stuck with you!

masterlist — prev | next

changed the update account pfps so it’s easier to see xx

did i eat that contract up or what guys

asking again pls comment on the masterlist if i can use ur username and make u a fan in the au!

synopsis — after the disaster that was the live award show, where you and scaramouche got into an argument on stage after both of your groups got a tie for top artists, your guys' PR teams have been in shambles trying to scrape up your mess. that's when the idea to send you both off with some other idols to a remote location for a survival dating show to mend your public image comes up. before you know it your bags are packed and you’re on a plane to a remote island. the only obligation is you need to end up with scaramouche at the end of the show, whether you end up liking him or not doesn’t matter to your managers as long as the show’s ratings stay high. whatever you do in between to get there is up to you!

notes — sorry gang i was rlly sick last week and cudnt write el oh el so enjoy this long chapter

taglist — @na1lea @cindywasneverhere @lunavixia @aestherin @mlaakai @camvrin @retiredmommylover @iheartpieck @jangyung @cartierfiles @loveariel @silly-ez @mochipls @pomeiu @chuuismylife @flowerypesky @creammpuff @justanothertiredreader @boxdisappeared @kissmiere @kissingkzuha @webbywill @kazusboyfriend @s3xpistolss @pjsucks @bunns-wonderland @lordbugs @localgirlywithnolife @kosumos @danfelions @featuredtofu @pinxeajin @herebyaccident0 @haeunoo @scaradooche @pglt19 @chemiru @childesbabygirl @simonisferal @shutingstar @vxcmx @domimiki @ttalgi @esuz @tokkishouse @kitsuvil @scarasmood @ihearttori @nomurahayami @starringyau @androxphobic

[corvase]

enemies to lovers midpoint prompts

as the request stated, that ‘i am trying really hard to keep hating you‘ phase, or what i like to call the reluctant friend stage. feel free to use :)

“i think we’re friends now.” “God, don’t say that.”

“everything is just a competition for you… isn’t it?” “isn’t it for you, too?”

“h—” “don’t talk to me.”

“i’d pay good money for you to admit you tolerate me.” “tolerate being the operative word.”

“why can’t you open up to me?” “why do you want me to?”

they’re so used to hating each other sometimes the snide remarks just slip out LMAO

like “should i get you something too?” “you can get out of my fa— woah, hehe. sorry.”

“you’re still on that?” “still on that..??? STILL ON THAT?????? I CANT STAND YOU???!!!(!;!”

a whispered moment between them ; “i’m trying so hard to hate you.” “why?”

they’re trying hard to hate each other then something happens (plot) and they’re stuck together which makes it ten times harder

“be honest with me.” “but why? why would i do that?”

“stop.” “stop what?” “being so kind to me.”

remember… they hated each other a couple chapters back. what changed? why did it change? who did it start to change in first?

the moment where your character asks themselves; “when did this nuisance become so important to me?”

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

“flu season” - hotch stops by to check on you while you’re home sick (hotch x bau!gn!reader), 1.7k words

cw; mentions of canonical violence, icky sickies, and yearning teehee

———————

You have the flu. 

You have the flu, and it hits you like a bus. 

You have the flu, and it hits you like a bus, and you hate feeling helpless, but you can’t even walk to the bathroom and back without feeling dizzy. 

There’s a waste basket by the bed, lined with a plastic grocery bag. There are four glasses of water, varying in stages of fullness, littered on the nightstand. Your blinds are open because yesterday you wanted to see the sun, but you were too exhausted later in the day to close them. 

Your phone is ringing. You’re groggy, the whole world feeling hazy and heavy, as you lift it from the space in bed beside you and see a call from your boss. When you called Hotch two days ago and told him you were ill, he was incredibly patient with you. Don’t worry about work. Get some rest, he said. Check in so we know you’re okay. Let us know if you need anything. 

You answer the phone on the last ring, and a hoarse, weak voice that is not yours exits your throat. “Hello?” 

“Y/N,” Hotch sounds relieved. Did he think you were dead or something? It’s only the stomach flu. He also never calls you by your first name, which only makes you concerned that something else is gruesomely wrong. “Did you see my calls?” 

You put him on speaker and check your call history. Aaron Hotchner has called you four times in the past six hours. You missed every single one, having drifted in and out of consciousness all day long. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t. Is everything okay?” You ask, thinking something must have happened to him or to one of your teammates. Why else would he be desperate to reach you when you’re home sick? 

“Well, you tell me,” Hotch exhales, an incredulous chuckle lining his voice. The phone muffles the sound, but you know that if you heard it in person, it would sound symphonic. “I was just checking on you, Y/N. I know you’re new to the city.” You sit up a little in bed, as if he were in front of you. “How are you feeling?” 

You run a clammy hand over your sweaty forehead. “Hot,” you blurt out. 

“Excuse me?” Hotch laughs. 

“Hot, like… like a fever. Like I’m running a…” you shake your head at yourself, resisting the urge to scream into your pillow. “Sick. I feel sick, very sick.” 

“What kind of sick?”

What kind of sick? Why would he ask you that? You lean back against the headboard and wonder if he’s trying to determine if you’re faking to get out of work, or if he’s genuinely concerned. You’ve only been with the BAU for a few months, but you feel like you’ve gotten to know everyone fairly well so far. You decide Hotch must just be genuinely concerned. You roll through your symptoms, and Hotchner clears his throat when you’re done speaking. 

“Do you feel strong enough to get to your door?” He asks.

“Huh?”

“Because I’m here. Outside your door.” 

“What?” 

Hotch lets out a breathy laugh, one that seems almost in disbelief of his own actions. “If you don’t want company, I’ll leave, but I thought you might need a hand. I’ve been sick and alone before. It’s not fun.” 

You feel your heart swell a little as you recall what Emily has told you about Hotch. You get little snippets about him from Emily, and from what you understand, he and his ex-wife were painfully separated for a while before she was murdered. You wonder if he was ever stuck at home, ill, during that period of time. 

Hotch says your surname. “Are you still there?” 

“What? Yes. Yes! I’m sorry,” you huff, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. The thought of planting your feet on the ground, however, has you already feeling nauseous. “I don’t, uh… I don’t think I can make it to the door, though,” you squeak. “There’s a spare key under the doormat. But I really look gross, Hotch. And I might be contagious. So, enter at your own risk.”

“I don’t mind, L/N. You keep a key under the - oh, yes, there it is,” you hear Hotch fumble to juggle the key and his phone, and after a moment of static - his hand over the microphone - he hangs up, and you hear the front door of your apartment creak open. “Y/N?” He calls out. 

“In here,” you croak, scrambling under the covers and desperately brushing your sweaty hair out of your eyes. 

Hotch is standing in the doorway in an instant, still in his suit and tie. You glance at your phone and conclude he must have left work directly to come here. “How do you know where I live?” You mumble as he lifts a full grocery bag. 

“Personnel file,” he shrugs. “How’s your fever?” 

You notice he’s lingering in the doorway. He’s waiting to be invited in. “You don’t have to have a warrant,” you smile weakly and beckon him into your bedroom, a lame attempt at humor. 

He exhales in amusement, and you see the smile on his face - light and mild, and you wonder, if you weren’t sick, would it have been a grin? 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Hotch says as he steps slowly into the room, taking a cold bottle of Gatorade from the grocery bag and setting it on your nightstand. He starts gathering the cups of water into one arm. 

“You don’t have to do that,” you protest, feeling embarrassed of your mess. “Hotch-“

“It’s Aaron, outside of work,” he corrects you, and you see a flash of his teeth. “And you didn’t answer my question. How’s your fever?” 

You swallow. “High? I guess?” You say dumbly. 

A warm hand is pressed against your forehead and you are once again very aware of how clammy it is. “When was the last time you took something?” He asks. 

You check the time again, then do the math in your head. “Five hours ago.” 

“Where’s your medicine?” He asked. You shift in the bed, to stand up, and Hotch - Aaron’s - hand is on your shoulder. “Stay in bed. I’ll get it. Where is it?” 

“Bathroom cabinet,” you point to the bathroom. You want to protest further. You want to apologize for the mess, to ask him why he’s doing this, to ask him if he’d do this for anyone else. But you keep your mouth shut, instead rubbing the space between your brows as the inevitable headache kicks in. 

Aaron’s quickly out of your bedroom. You hear him walk into the kitchen, a few cabinets open and shut, and then he’s in your bathroom, same thing, opening and closing a cabinet. He comes back to you with a few crackers on a plate, a fresh glass of water, and your flu medicine. 

“So, let’s talk about why you think it’s a good idea to keep a spare key under the mat,” Aaron proposes as you take the medicine. You nearly choke on the water in your mouth, but manage to down it. His face gives him away - he’s not mad, not even disappointed, just smirky. Teasing and playful were not words you would use to describe Aaron Hotchner. 

Until right now. 

You open your mouth to speak, but Aaron cuts you off. “You spend your whole week working gory murders, kidnappings, terrorist threats. You know that the key under the mat is the oldest trick in the book. Why do you do it?” He asks, leaning against the wall beside your bed. 

“You can sit, if you want?” You offer, pointing to the desk chair in the corner. “Your legs must be tired from hanging out up there on that high horse.” 

Hotch just lets a low chuckle escape him as he rolls the desk chair over. He keeps a respectful distance from your bed, but still crosses his ankles and leans back, like he’s sat there a thousand times. Like he’s somehow comfortable. He looks at you expectantly, as if to say don’t make me ask again. 

“Well,” you feel a bit sheepish, because he is right. Keeping a key under your doormat is pretty dumb. “I guess I figure, most people are smart enough to not do it, so the kidnappers and rapists would assume I would be smart enough, too, so they wouldn’t even look under the mat.” 

Aaron’s expression is priceless, and he opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off. “I’ll just give a spare to someone I trust, how about that?” You suggest, knowing intuitively that the lecture was only going to continue. 

Aaron gives you a nod of approval, and you lean back against the headboard again, stifling a yawn. “I can go, if you want to rest some more?” he proffers, rising from his seat. 

“You don’t have to,” you say quickly, uncontrollably. The words were locked and loaded in your throat before you could think twice. “I mean, I’m probably going to fall asleep soon, but I wouldn’t mind the company. For a little while.” 

You wonder how visibly red your face is.

“I just wanted to make sure you were alive,” Aaron chuckles, his polite, subtle way of declining your invitation, of making sure boundaries are still intact. You know Hotchner is a rule-follower. You admire that about him. “I’ll let you get some rest,” his hand extends, as if to reach out to you. You wonder if he’s going to touch you. His hand retracts after a moment that seems to last for an eternity. 

As Aaron walks towards the bedroom door, he turns around and smiles at you. It’s a real smile. It’s soft. You want to press it like a flower petal, between two book pages, and keep it in a jar on your shelf. 

“I brought you some soup for when you feel up to eating. It’s in your refrigerator,” he says. He taps his hands against the door frame. “Feel better, okay? I’ll call you tomorrow to check on you.” 

Aaron Hotchner leaves your apartment a minute later, and you fall asleep shortly after that. Your head is still pounding, and your stomach is twisted in knots, but it’s not from the nausea. 

[multifandomgirl08]

The Moment You Smiled At Me [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader (Pre-Established Relationship)

Summary: The evening that started it all for Max and Reader.

Warning(s): N/A

A/N: Title taken from the song Rain by Sleep Token.

Words: 2.3k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

Max had always hated going to these FIA parties. It had nothing to do with racing, and although he had no issue with supporting the sport and the people that were coming up in it. He saw no real reason as to why they had to get dressed up. Wouldn’t it have just been easier to give out these awards at the end of the season during the last race and calling it done?

He was caught in a small group of people who were waiting to get their picture taken on the blue carpet. Some of them he knew and the others he didn’t. He could see people walking around before making their way inside to the tables not stopping by for more than a glance at him.

Max glanced down at his watch to check the time and instead caught the sight of light blue fabric out of the corner of his eyes. He looked up wondering if he could see who was wearing the color, but all he saw was the back of a dress belonging to a woman who had her arms locked with a man. They disappeared into the room.

Eventually, Max had managed to make his way out of the group that he was stuck with and inside towards the tables, people weren’t sitting yet. His eyes traveled over the room wondering about the light blue dress he saw. He tried to tell himself that it was nothing, but his eyes' normal laser-sharp focus seemed to be playing a trick on him.

But then he saw it again. It was going towards the front of the stage, just a little far from where he stood. He looked a little higher and saw a wide feminine smile greet him. He felt the need to fix his posture or at the very least making it seem like he wasn’t miserable being here, but was quick to realize that she may be looking past him and not at him.

He looked behind him to see no one standing there and then back towards her to see her cover her mouth; she was probably laughing at him. He pushed his shoulders back and couldn’t help that his feet led him to her.

As he got closer he realized that he didn’t know her. Never seen her before in his life, and maybe heading straight to her was… strange.

He didn’t want to just outright ask her why she smiled at him or why she laughed at him as he looked behind himself earlier. Maybe she just did that, smiling at strangers that she didn’t know.

“Smiling at random people again, Y/N?” He heard as someone walked up to her, Y/N.

“Maybe.” She said as if it was nothing.

“I don’t know how you can just kill people with your kindness.”

“Fatal flaw.”

“Right,” He heard as a retort. “I’ll see you at the table.”

Max saw her give him a half nod before he finally came up to her.

“You’re date?” He couldn’t help but ask before he reached up to pat his hair down. He knew that it wasn’t sticking up since he had put on hair gel before he left his hotel.

Her eyes met his quickly, “No, my co-worker. I’m just his plus one.”

“Oh, what do you do?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“Private banking, I’m always traveling for work though. I can’t wait for the day when I’ll be able to work from home full time.”

Max lifted his eyebrows at her words. “Don’t like traveling?”

“I do, sometimes. I’m just a homebody.”

“I’m like that. I’m gone from home more than I would like.” He liked being at home with the cats, not having his phone to worry about, and spending time with his son. Nico was such a wonder to him. He was just over a year old and was walking and touching things that he shouldn’t. Jimmy was not happy when Nico had decided to pull his tail one time.

He wanted to tell her that story but knew that he shouldn’t. She didn’t know that he had a son, and he didn’t want it to get out.

“What about you? What do you do?” She asked. Before he could answer Christian came up to him.

“Max, I hate to interrupt but you’ve got to go up. They’re starting the ceremony soon.” Max silently glared at Christian for a moment.

“That’s okay.” She said reaching towards the table for her handbag. “It was nice talking to you, Max.”

She quickly bowed her head a little before going off towards the tables that faced the stage. It seemed like she didn’t know who he was, or what he did for a job given that she bothered asking him what it was he did.

His eyes followed her until she sat down next to who she claimed to be her co-worker. Christian put his hand on his shoulder, ready to lead him up the stage. Waiting while they lowered the lights and made all of the introductions felt like it took forever. It was like waiting behind the safety car after there was a yellow flag.

Finally, he managed to get up on stage to present the award for Rookie of the Year. He awkwardly ran through the speech that he was given and tried to keep his eyes towards the crowd but couldn’t help it when they kept drifting back to you in the light blue dress that you were wearing.

You weren’t talking to anyone while he was up on the stage. Eventually after painstakingly finishing the speech and handing the award over to Oscar Piastri, he made his way off the stage and back into the crowd of people sitting at the tables.

The rest of the speeches came to an end after a while. People started to make their way out of the room and out towards the hallway. Max hadn’t been pulled into any conversations luckily.

There was a familiar feeling of his phone buzzing in the inside pocket of his tux jacket. He pulled it out to see that it was his mom. He stepped out of the room, hoping to move away from everyone as much as he could.

He ended up outside by the valet watching as a few people were already leaving. If this wasn’t a work obligation he would have done the same and tried to leave as soon as he could.

He pulled his phone out to call his mom back. It rang in his ear.

“Mum?” He questioned after the line picked up.

“Max,” She started. “I just wanted to let you know that Nico’s asleep. It took him a while to fall asleep.”

Max had flown Sophie to Monaco to spend some time with Nico while he would he was in Paris for the FIA Prize Giving Gala. He would fly home tomorrow and be in back with Nico in a few short hours.

Nico had apparently fallen asleep in Max’s bed with Jimmy and Sassy at Nico’s feet. Sophie had told him that Nico missed him, “I miss him too, Mum.”

It was a few moments later that he said goodbye and promised to be home and back with Nico before dinner tomorrow. He pushed his phone back into the pocket of his jacket.

He could hear the clack, clack of footsteps against the cobblestones that made up the driveway to the hotel. Someone was wearing a pair of heels. Max looked in the direction of the sound to see her again.

She stood a few meters away from him, with her black bag in hand and her arms wrapped around herself. She looked like she was cold, the slit on her dress did go up quite high on her leg.

He gave himself a moment just in case someone came after her, but she just stood there looking as people kept getting into different cars.

He slowly walked up to her, “You need help, a jacket maybe?” He asked.

She looked over at him. “I’m fine.”

He could feel her eyes on his jacket. He moved to undo the button, she looked cold. He pulled it off his shoulders.

“I insist.” He said, opening it for her so she could put it on.

She moved closer to him laying the fabric over her shoulders. It only took a few moments before he saw that she looked more comfortable with it on.

“You didn’t have to.”

“It’s Paris, and it’s November. I’m surprised it’s not snowing.”

“That’s true. I figured that the Gala would be over before it got too cold.” Well at least she didn’t mean to catch hypothermia.

“They normally have it in warmer places.”

“You’ve been to the Gala before?” She asked. “I saw you present an award, so I assume that you know more than I would.”

“Yes, my first was in… 2015.” It was back when he was in Formula 3, he doesn’t remember what it was for now.

“They always this boring?”

“Yes,” He answered honestly. “They don’t change much.”

Max couldn’t help but feel a little awkward. He didn’t know what to talk to her about, he could bring up what she had said earlier, and he was just about to when,

“You didn’t tell me what you do,” She started to say. “Before we were interrupted inside.”

“I drive in Formula 1.”

She gave him a silent nod.

“You like it?” She asked. He didn’t know if he should answer honestly but there was that feeling again that told him he should.

“Sometimes,” He said with sincerity. “I like being with my team, and driving the car. Other things, like this, I don’t really like.”

“I’m sure it’s not all bad.” She was right. It wasn’t all bad, driving in Formula 1 gave him a lot, even with the parts that he didn’t like.

“No,” He said with a slight shrug. “But it doesn’t really give me a whole lot of time for other things.”

Between his F1 schedule and Nico he didn’t really have any time for much else. He had tried dating over the last year and it never seemed to end well. They always ended up wanting to move faster then he was ready for.

“I’m sure if it matters you’ll make time.” She said. He didn’t know why her saying that seemed like it had a softer tone to it after the words moved past her lips.

He couldn’t help but let out a smile. If only she knew the things that he had made time for over the last year.

“Of course, I’m sure your boyfriend feels the same.” He said, as a way to see if she would correct him again.

“Co-worker,” She corrected him just like he wanted. She smiled back at him.

“He wishes, right?” He asked, with a slight laugh to his tone.

“More than you can know.” He could hear her chuckle. So she obviously knew that her “co-worker” invited her here with other intentions.

“You can always go on a date with someone else. So he knows you're not interested.” He offered as if that would actually help her situation.

“You make a good point.” She had just said when the guy from earlier had come out to stand next to her.

“Ready to go, Y/N?” He asked.

“In a moment.” She said with a smile. Y/N didn’t leave him right after.

“Do you have your phone on you?” She asked him.

Max widened his eyes. Was she doing what he thinks she is?

“Uhm, jacket pocket on the right.” He watched her pull his phone out of the inside pocket of his jacket, she turned his phone to him silently asking for him to unlock it for her. He didn’t even take it out of her hand. Just moved a little closer to put his face in view of the front camera so that it would unlock. 

She moved to type something in before handing him his phone back and then quickly pulled her own phone out of her bag. He looked down at the screen for a few seconds before a text showed up with the words, Think he’ll take the hint this time?

He heard the closing of her bag before he saw her pull the jacket from her shoulders, slowly handing it back to him, almost as if she didn’t want to lose the warmth the jacket had provided her in those short moments. 

“Call me, if you’re ever in London.” She said with their hands brushing and gave him a wide smile before following the guy to a black towncar. His eyes followed her and he couldn’t help but slightly flex his hand from feeling their skin touch. Before she got inside the car she gave him a second look. He couldn’t help but feel a little like he couldn’t breathe, like he had just gotten out of the car after Singapore, watching her leave him standing there. His head was spinning a bit.

He wasn’t sure if he really should. Max would never say that he was the best at flirting and he was sure that this only proved it. But somehow, she still gave him her number and told him to call her.

He took a moment and then pushed the thought away, it was probably just to get the guy to back off.

It was the last week of November, Max had finished up early with all of his sponsorship things at the Factory. He would be leaving to go back to Monaco in a day or two and he couldn’t help but look through the text messages on his phone until he came across the text from Y/N again.

He had thought of her a bit since the Gala. He thought of her, and their conversations. It had taken him a bit before he had realized that she wouldn’t have given him her real number if she didn’t want to talk to him again.

He opened her contact information before pressing on her number to give her a call. Maybe he was ready to make time in his life for someone that could understand him, and eventually his son.

Mini Verstappen taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @taylorslovesswifties13, @konsti081, @mellowarcadefun, @smnthnclj, @brekkers-whore, @lpab

[hinaaspanda]

the act of love | p.sh

pairing: idol actor! park sunghoon x idol actor! fem reader warnings: swearing, mentions of food + dieting, alcohol genre: enemies to lovers, secret pining, angst, slight fluff, smut: protected sex, fingering, slight dirty talk and praise wc: 10,639

Park Sunghoon was heartless; you were convinced. After selfishly leaving you for another company, Park Sunghoon was now your enemy. Now, with years past and both of your careers sky rocketing as famous idols, you thought you were done dealing with him. However, life had other plans; placing the two of you as main leads in an upcoming romantic drama!

hi! after months of writers block i am finally back with another sunghoon fic! i missed writing for my bae! also, this fic mentions idols not being allowed in relationships, so i just wanna make it clear; i know idols can probably date if they wanted to (unless theres a dating ban) and theyre entilited to their personal lives! i just wanted to add drama teehee. anyways, enjoy!

“Go out with me.” 

His voice rasped against your skin, his face mere centimetres from yours; lips even closer. Puffs of the cold air sprouted at each hitched breath, every impatient inhale. Rain drizzled around you, encasing your frames like a protective barrier. The world was no one else’s but yours. The streetlamp cast a warm light against your figures; in the spotlight of your own stage. His hand brushes your hair behind your ear, his touch as light as a feather. It sends shivers down your spine. Your pounding heart leaped from your chest, getting stuck between the walls of your throat. His eyes bore through your frame, keeping yours locked in its grasp. 

“I-”

“CUT!”

The muffled, yet heavily amplified voice of your director shocked your ears through the megaphone. Well, yours and the rest of the staff that surrounded you and your co-star. You jolted, eyes quickly scanning the filming set, complete with the fake rain machines, fans, and stage lights. Eventually they landed on your director, whose ears were practically puffing out steam. 

“You’re late again, y/n!” The director irritatedly reminds you, pinching the bridge of his nose. You wince, beating yourself up for your stupid mistake. He only sighs, his face growing less red, his tone becoming more forgiving. “Memorise your queues, okay? Now, that’s a wrap for today. Good work!” 

After your director finally dismisses the clamour of staff members and actors, clacks of footsteps  suddenly peak from behind you. You only roll your eyes. You knew exactly who it was, and he didn’t deserve even an ounce of your attention. 

Park Sunghoon. The man you hated most. 

The man you were forced to work with for this stupid idol drama. 

“If you needed my help you could’ve just said so,” Sunghoon crossed his arm, his face cold and indifferent. You scowled. His words may have seemed innocent, helpful even. But his snarky tone made it overwhelmingly clear; his words were nothing but harsh insults. 

Park Sunghoon was just heartless like that.

“Piss off, will you? I didn’t have enough time!” You were telling the truth; your schedule had been jam packed with dance practice and promotional events—the typical life of an idol. You puff your chest out like some dumb chicken, only earning a huff from Sunghoon’s lips as he steps closer to you. You couldn’t help but notice how much he towered over your frame with his lanky one. How small locks of his hair hung above his eyes like curtains. He probably got a kick out of it all. The thought alone made you sick.

“And whose fault is that?” Sunghoon only cocked an eyebrow. 

Mine, you thought bitterly. You hated when he was right. 

“Why don’t you rehearse the scene where you learn to shut up?” You spat back instead. With that, you spun away from him, retreating to your change room within the filming set. Leaving Park Sunghoon to fend for himself.

Truth be told, you didn't always hate him. Years ago, you and Sunghoon were actually close. Best friends, in fact. The both of you grew up together, spent your school years together, and you shared the dream of stardom and fame. You both wanted to be idols, and so you auditioned for the same company. 

Amidst all of this, the two of you swore on one sole promise; never leave the other behind. To never put the likes of stardom and fame before your friendship. Of course you were able to hold your end of the bargain. But Sunghoon? He couldn’t quite say the same. 

It was two years into training with the company. Sunghoon had grown awfully distant from you. For some, the changes were subtle, practically unnoticeable. You, however, certainly noticed, but you never thought much of it. Always hiding your feelings under the guise of your busy, clashing schedules. Always making excuses for his heartless actions—until Sunghoon told you he was leaving the company. 

You remembered it as if it was yesterday. His eyes held no emotion. His posture was calm, laid back. Another, bigger company, was offering him a higher pay and a debut date that was fast approaching. You thought it was crazy. You were sure he would never switch so easily. He wouldn’t break the promise the two of you made years ago. He wouldn’t betray you in just the blink of an eye.

You were wrong.

He announced that he would officially leave in a week, but his dorm was empty in just two days—it was no surprise that he lied. Nevertheless, in those same two days, you vowed to make an enemy out of Park Sunghoon; the man heartless enough to betray you.

And yet, you were here. Stuck as his co-star for an idol drama you didn’t even want. Just to listen to your company's orders. It irked you beyond belief. 

You haphazardly threw your purse over your shoulder, adjusting the hem of your hoodie before heading out the door to meet your manager. 

ENHYPEN’s Park Sunghoon and HEARTBEAT’s Ahn y/n to star in upcoming drama

You found yourself scowling at the article in front of you, the glare of the laptop screen burning white against the darkness of your bedroom. With a huff, your head sunk further into the plush of the pillow, your frame burying itself into the covers. Maybe then, you could hide away from this cursed reality. This cursed world in which you were stuck working with the man you loathed. 

The article purged open the gates of your mind, allowing memories to seep through. Unwanted memories of Park Sunghoon. Staying up past your curfews just to practise together; ‘practising’ your vocal lessons at the karaoke bar down the street from your dorms; secretly rigging group games so the two of you ended up together. Now, they were all just bittersweet memories that plagued your mind.  

You wouldn’t be lying if you said you missed those times. A small sliver of you wouldn’t mind miraculously travelling back in time just to see your best friend again. To relive those memories once again. 

Nevertheless, the Park Sunghoon you were forced to work with was not your childhood friend. In your eyes, he was a complete stranger. 

Throwing a stuffie at your laptop, you bit the inside of your cheek, tucking your face into your knees. Even when you first reunited for the first day of shooting, that asshole didn’t even bother to apologise. You could barely recognize him.

“Throwing your stuffies at his picture won’t get rid of him, you know.” A voice rang in your ears. Kiri—your team’s main dancer and your roommate—slumped against the doorframe with her arms crossed against her chest. Kiri inches forward sitting on the edge of your bed as you huff a groan. “It should. You’d think we’d have the technology for it by now.”

“You think anyone’s petty enough to make something like that?”

“Not petty. Efficient,” you crossed your arms.

Kiri leaned back, tilting her head. “How are you two ever gonna work together if you can’t even stand his picture?”

“I don’t know! They probably should’ve thought of that before slapping our names on a contract neither of us even wanted!” Your arms flailed in defeat. 

“Maybe it’s a sign?” Kiri hesitated. “Like—the universe wanted the two of you to make up, or something.”

Your figure erupts in laughter, but Kiri’s unflinching demeanour suggests that she wasn’t trying to make you laugh with a joke. Your giggles fizzle out within seconds. “You’re serious?”

Kiri only huffs, shooting up from her seat. “I dunno, but just give him a chance. Maybe Sunghoon changed for the better?”

You watched Kiri’s back as she trekked out of your room. You only scoffed. Now that was something impossible.

Despite the relentless physical activities, and clamour of people within the building, going to the gym was one of your favourite pastimes. It allowed you and your teammates to unwind after a long day of idol activities. All of your worries and troubles—washed away by a quick jog on the treadmill. 

Right now, you needed that more than anything. 

“Gonna run today?” Kiri probed, sinking into a wide leg stretch and twisting her shoulders around. You hum positive, crossing your arm over in a stretch. “Yeah, I need to clear my head.”

Kiri only nodded, yanking dumbbells off of a community rack before sinking into the first squat of her first session. You trek a few paces over to the treadmill aisles, sliding your headphones over your ears and swiping at your phone screen to play some music. Soon enough, you were off, your heels and toes pressing repeatedly onto the platform, your heart rate rising at a steady pace. Step by step, your mind was gradually clearing, de-stressing. Like a cloud flying away from an otherwise bluesky, all of your worries surrounding your idol activities, that stupid drama, and that stupid Park Sunghoon whisked themselves away. For once in what seemed like forever, you were at peace.

“y/n.”

A voice roughly jolted you back to reality. Hastily, you push your headphones off, hooking them around your neck before glancing around to find the owner of the voice. The voice that ruined your peaceful evening. 

You choke. 

Park Sunghoon stood before you, his hands shoved in his pockets as he leaned back in a nonchalant manner. You took note of his black shirt; the way it was tight enough to see his chest peeking through, the way his short sleeves were rolled up, exposing his biceps. You cursed at yourself for looking.

You simply stood there, eyes wide and spilling from their sockets. Your hand snakes up, fiddling with the treadmill dashboard to stop the equipment from moving. You cling onto the handle bars; maybe for stability, maybe for protection. You weren’t sure. You glance to the side, another figure taking up your view. He looked vaguely familiar; you’ve probably seen him during live shows before. A gulp runs down your throat as you collect yourself.

“The hell are you doing here?”

Sunghoon crossed his arms, your eyes glance at his pecks. Bruh. “I came here to work out. What’s wrong with that?”

“Isn’t there another gym near you?”

“This is my gym. I go here regularly.”

Your brows furrow. “What? This is my gym! I never see you here.”

“That’s a you problem,” Sunghoon tilted his head coyly, earning a groan from you. Sunghoon cleared his throat. “Besides, I’m not here for you. Jake wanted to say hi.”

Sunghoon jutted a thumb at the man beside him. His face held a wide grin as he held out his hand. You clung onto his palm in a swift hand shake, a smile now plastered onto your face. Jake’s eye smile never went away as he introduced himself. 

“I’m Jake, one of Sunghoon’s teammates! So nice to finally meet you!”

With a grin, you reciprocate his kind words. The two of you fell into wholesome small talk, completely forgetting the nuisance beside you. You already liked this guy way more. You and Jake talked endlessly about your similar hobbies, your overlapping interests. You enjoyed it, talking to the personified bundle of joy. It made you wonder why he was friends with someone like Sunghoon. 

Sunghoon cleared his throat, the sudden boom startling both you and Jake. 

“Let’s head back, man. I wanna get started on my reps.”

Jake only glanced back before turning around to face you, waving his hand at Sunghoon. “Start without me. I’ll catch up later.”

Sunghoon grumbled, turning around before marching over to the dumbbells. Only after he turned around did you notice the shells of his ears burning bright pink. Weird. 

You and Jake continued but something was off. You couldn’t quite focus. As the two of you were about to enter the conversation topic of favourite foods, your stubborn eyes began to wander to the view of Park Sunghoon. You watched as he sat hunched over on a random bench, his hands clinging onto a dumbbell as he curled the equipment up to his chin, and back down slowly. You watched as his muscles tensed, his sweat beaded off of his face, drenching his hairline. He looked good; and you hated it. 

Sunghoon’s eyes darted towards you, scanning back and forth between you and Jake. His eyes burned a hole through his teammate’s chest. His tongue poked beneath his cheek before his eyes darted away. Watching him, you found your heart racing. Odd, considering you hadn’t been running for a while. Something was really wrong with you. 

You waited for Jake to leave before collecting your belongings and dashing off the treadmill. You made a b-line for Kiri, innocently working out. Kiri glances up, a confused and weary look on her face. “You good?”

“No.” You murmur, your heart racing even more. What was going on? “I wanna go home.”

“That’s a wrap for today!” The director’s voice echoed through the building, signalling the end of another successful shoot, but you could barely pay any mind. Not with your stomach grumbling like a lion dying of hunger. 

This should’ve been an easy fix. With the table of refreshments, reserved just for the staff and cast members just 4 paces away from you, it was easy for anyone to take a quick bit and become instantly satisfied. Yet,your case was awfully special. You were currently on a diet. 

It was a common occurrence for someone in the industry in order to look your best in time for a special event. With group activities fast approaching for you and your group, the practice of dieting was natural to expect. 

Suddenly, the crackles of an open wrapper stung through your ears. Your head snaps to the sound, your senses heightened by the possibility of food. You squinted to get a better look. An overly seasoned rice ball, burning auburn in colour, with a dark strip of crispy seaweed running down the middle. It was a sight for sore eyes; your mouth watered. The way the oil glistened under the setlights above, the way each rice grain fell between the perfect balance of crisp and chewy, it all made your cravings skyrocket. You were about to take a step towards the godlike piece of food before your eyes remembered to scan the rest of the figure; the owner of the seaweed-wrapped gold. 

You stopped.

It was Park Sunghoon. He was the one digging into the last riceball from the refreshments table. He was the one responsible for your suffering. 

Your mind replays images from the gym; your last unfortunate encounter with the man you hated. The way your eyes wandered to places you didn’t want to see, the way your heart raced at his presence. It all stung you. And yet, here he was, making his way over to you. You found yourself coddling your stomach.  

“What do you want?”

“You were the one staring at me, y/n.”

You gulp. You try to look away from the bothersome man, you really did. However, with Sunghoon bringing the rice ball closer and closer to your starving frame, facing away from him was even hard to manage. You couldn’t help but steal a glance or two from his mouth watering snack. 

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?” You only gulp. Were you that obvious?

You stepped back from the idol. “I’m dieting. Everything makes me hungry.” You noticed your words wavering at the last half or your sentence. 

Slowly, you walked away. You were expecting that interaction to be over, anyway. There was no use talking to him if he wasn’t going to provide you with any sort of solace. And besides, this was Park Sunghoon. Since when did you give him the light of day?

“There’s a convenience store down the street,” You heard Sunghoon’s voice as he jogged over to your escaping frame. “Let’s go.”

The convenience store? With Park Sunghoon?

“Are you dumb? My manager will kill me!”

A sudden warmth ghosted around the curve of your wrist. Sunghoon’s fingers clung gently around your skin, dragging your frame closer to his. 

“We’ll be quick.”

Running. You and Park Sunghoon were running. Pushing past the equipment and staff members scattered across the filming set, all yelling at you to come back. With your hand in his, and an optimal view of Sunghoon’s back, the two of you dashed out of the filming set doors, escaping into the daylight. It was odd. It was as if the world surrounding you completely vanished, leaving the two of you secluded. Just for this maybe 5 minute run to the convenience store, the world was your and yours alone. 

“You’re paying?”

“Yeah. You need to eat.” 

Your brows furrowed. Since when did he care? 

Your shoulder was nudged, and a rice ball fell into your hand. Your eyes met Sunghoon’s, whose eyes were already on you. “Here.”

You clear your throat. Your voice was small; an attempt to hide your fluttering heart. “Thanks.”

You dash in front of him, not wanting to look at him more than you needed to. This was the end of it all, anyways. You got what you wanted, and you were now on your merry way. 

“Wait—” A tug on your wrist once again. Sunghoon pulled your frame close to his chest, away from the sliding doors behind you. 

“Let’s stay here. Our managers will both have our heads if they see where we are,” Sunghoon huffed a chuckle. 

“You only realised that now?”

“Just eat your rice ball” Sunghoon rolled his eyes.

Unwrapping the golden deity of rice and seaweed, you and Sunghoon step to the side, huddling together at the corner of the lottery ticket station. The silver light above you flickered, the buzzing of the electricity humming across the entire room. However, you couldn’t give your surroundings even a sliver of your attention. You were too busy dying of hunger to care. 

“Look at you two!” The honey-like voice of an elderly woman seeped through your ears, breaking your attention away from your feast. It was the cashier, taking 5 from her work. “What a cute couple you are!”

You choked on your rice. A couple? Was that what the two of you looked like? Sure, Sunghoon bought your food for you, and you did just come running into the store holding hands. You sort of understood the confusion. But hell, was this lady ever wrong. Never in a million years would Park Sunghoon come close to someone you’d want to be a couple with. You would never give the thought the light of day. Dating Park Sunghoon? Nice try. He would need a heart of his own before getting a chance at capturing yours. 

You shined a bogus smile. “Oh no—”

“Thank you!” Sunghoon’s voice collided with yours. You choke on your rice again, despite no rice being ingested to begin with. Maybe you were simply choking on the audacity Park Sunghoon had at this very moment. You step up, desperately in need of clearing up the miscommunication, but the lady was already occupied with her next customer. You huff a sigh, returning to the last bites of your blessed rice ball.  

As you shoved the remaining food into your jacket, you and Sunghoon slip out of the convenience store, a cloud rumbling over your head, and your cheeks erupting into flames. You’ve been doing that a lot lately. Grumbling, you turn to him. 

“What was that!?” Your voice squeaked a little.

Sunghoon only shrugged, throwing his elbows in the air and his palms at the back of his head. “I couldn’t correct that sweet old lady! Plus, it’s not like we’re ever gonna see her again.”

The speed in which Sunghoon dismissed the situation agitated you to your core, but you couldn’t help but notice the shell of Sunghoon’s ear flashing red again.

Currently, you sat on the curb as you took 5 from an outdoor shoot. Knees tucked into your chest, and your lunch balancing on your kneecaps, you munched on your food peacefully. The sky that was suspended over your head painted a simple wash of blue. It carried a few splotches of white clouds, the same way your brain carried few thoughts in its head. For the first time in a while, your mind was at peace.

A certain warmth ghosted your side, snapping you out of your peaceful trance. It was Sunghoon, choosing to sit right next to you. Sunghoon waited a few paces before taking a bite of his lunch. Only then did he consider looking over at you. You, however, were already looking in his direction. Baffled.

“Relax. This was the only place I could sit.”

You grumbled under your breath.

You glance at Sunghoon’s lunch. A simple fruit salad; pieces of fruit cubed and tossed together in a plastic bowl. You watched as Sunghoon periodically pushed the mountain of mangoes further into the corner, minimising the chances of them mixing into the rest of his salad. Suddenly, memories from your trainee days flooded your brain. Memories of Sunghoon scooping the mangoes off of a fruit cake; of Sunghoon wincing the moment he tasted mangoes in his fruit cup; of Sunghoon always remembering to give you the pieces he never wanted because he knew you liked them.

Your chest twinged.

“You still don’t like mangoes?” Your words were uttered before you could think them through. You wince; only now realising that the usage of ‘still’ implies that you remembered the past. Fuck.

You watch the corner of Sunghoon’s lip twitch up before his head hangs down, as if he was trying to hide a smile. “You still remember that?”

You stayed silent. The answer was obvious, unfortunately. A lump jumped from your throat. “You’re still weird for that, by the way. Who the hell doesn’t like mangoes?”

“They're always bad. Too sour.”

“You’re just bad at picking them out.”

“Also they’re slimy. Gross.”

“They’re not—” You heave a sigh. “You’re so dumb.”

The two of you pause, your eyes holding onto each other as if a thread had hung in the balance. As if on queue, the two of you suddenly burst out into fits of laughter. You didn’t know exactly what came over you at that moment. It was as if your body had become possessed, manoeuvred by a puppet master. Yet somehow, sitting here, on this random curb, laughing with Park Sunghoon—it brought you a strange sense of comfort.

As the laughter dialled down, and the two you grew silent, Sunghoon still held onto your attention. Slowly, Sunghoon picked off the mango cubes from his bowl, reached over and plopped down onto yours. You only looked up at him, confused.

“They’re your favourite, right?” Sunghoon simply asked, a grin stretching across his face. Your stomach felt queasy. “You’re not the only one who remembers, you know.”

Why was your heart racing?

Today was the day. The day you dreaded the most.

“You’ve already survived this far, I really doubt today’s gonna be any different,” Kiri reasoned from her end of the company van. You hated how logical and indifferent she was, and how you were the complete opposite right now. 

You curled up in a ball on your car seat, your forehead resting on your knees. “Do you even know what scene we’re filming?” 

Kiri only huffed as the company van slowly pulled into the driveway. “Yes, y/n. You’ve only told me everyday for the past week.” You huffed. So much for having a friend who understood you. 

The van shifted into park, and Kiri released herself from the confines of her seat belt. With one last glance back at you, your teammate hops out of her car door, making her way to her individual schedule for the day. It took you every ounce of energy in your body to not reach over and grab her in a tight hug; steal her for yourself and your much needed moral support. 

“You’ll be okay, y/n. Trust me.” The car door slammed shut. 

Kiri definitely could not be trusted. Not when the particular scene you had scheduled was a kiss scene. With the one and only Park Sunghoon. You had every right to be just a little bit panicked. 

The director’s run down of today’s schedule seemed shorter than usual. Or maybe it wasn’t—maybe you were just desperate to stall the inevitable. Either way, you still found yourself sitting behind the snack table. It was the corner of the room; the farthest corner from the filming set. The set you’d soon occupy with the man of the hour.

Park Sunghoon was the man you hated. He was the man that broke your promise, leaving you to bask in your loneliness. He was the man that abandoned your friendship in favour of fame. You hated him for all of it. Kissing Park Sunghoon went against everything your entire being had to offer.  

And yet, you couldn’t get the thought of him out of your mind. 

You let your stubborn eyes wander as you stood in the middle of the scene. Now, you were in-between takes, and you simply stood there as a makeup artist touched up Sunghoon’s face. Slowly, your eyes approached him. In the next 5 minutes, you would’ve kissed him, and this will all be over. 

In 5 minutes. you would have kissed Park Sunghoon.

You’ll kiss Park Sunghoon.

“I’m yours, Choi Min Ah. No one else’s.” Sunghoon’s toasted breath wrapped your skin in a blanket of warmth. His voice was sweet; dipped in honey. Or, his character, Kwang Ill Han’s voice was. That’s who the voice belonged to—not Sunghoon. Recently, you’ve been having a difficult time differentiating the two. Sunghoon folded a hand over your cheek, slowly and gently linking his lips with yours. You crashed into the plush of his lips, your skin swiping at his. Your heart was racing again.

This was the kiss scene between Choi Min Ah and Kwang Ill Han. Not yours. So why was it affecting you? 

The director yells cut, and the last scene for the day finishes. The clamour of staff members and actors run around, preparing to leave. However, you simply stood there. Trapped in the middle of the filming platform. Trapped in your own thoughts. Thoughts that Park Sunghoon had selfishly plagued. 

You knew it was childish. You knew it was stupid. But it was what you needed to quell your erratic heart. 

So you ran.

Park Sunghoon was a selfish prick.

It was the thought that tainted Sunghoon’s mind as he watched you escape the film set earlier that afternoon, and it stayed plaguing his mind for the duration of that evening—even until he got home. He sunk into the plush of the couch, not bothering to pay any mind to the colossal mess his members left in the living room. Instead, Sunghoon simply gazed at the lamp above him, glowing a deep amber—letting his thoughts eat him alive. 

He let himself get carried away.

Sunghoon knew this would happen. He knew the risks that laced the opportunity of a reunion with you. He knew that, at just the slightest chance, Sunghoon would fall in love with you all over again. And, as far as his career was concerned; falling in love was forbidden. 

It all started years ago, a couple of years after the two of you joined the same entertainment company—though Sunghoon remembered it like it was yesterday. Sunghoon had just finished up his vocal lessons for the evening when the company CEO sat Sunghoon down in front of a laptop. It was littered with pictures that Sunghoon was a part of. However, all these shots had one thing in common; they were all pictures of you and him. Pictures of Sunghoon staring into your eyes lovingly as you decorated a cake for your group leader, of Sunghoon intimately adjusting your hair, clueless to the cameras filming you. Pictures of Sunghoon that expose his feelings for you.

In other words; a relationship rumour was bound to spread, if it hadn’t already, and Park Sunghoon was screwed.

The CEO goes on to tell Sunghoon the dangers that this holds. How a dating rumour during their trainee years had a greater chance of ruining their careers, their images. He scolded Sunghoon for being dumb and reckless. It was natural; you had a knack for making Sunghoon go crazy ever since he first met you in grade school. Park Sunghoon was smitten for you, and now he finally had to pay the price. 

The CEO, however, proposes a solution that would dial down the situation. Sunghoon would transfer to BELIFT LAB, a company in need of a male trainee for an upcoming debut of their new boy group. With Sunghoon now out of the way, there would be no room for rumours between the two trainees to spread. And with the sudden news of  Sunghoon signing with a new company ranking first in the spotlight, dedicated fans were bound to simply forget any rumours would even exist. 

Sunghoon didn’t know much when it came to this line of work. So, he agreed to the scheme. Anything to keep his career, and you, safe. 

The hardest part about it all was keeping it a secret from you. It was on company’s orders; you didn’t have a clue what was going on at the time, so it was best to just leave you in your blissful ignorance. The company ordered him to distance himself from you. To break away from the bond the two of you shared for years. It was no wonder you hated him; you had every right. And so, Park Sunghoon tried to shut down his feelings for you. Hiding his heart behind a fake persona that hated you the same way you hated him—thorns against his skin. Nevertheless, it was the only way to keep you somewhat in his life. 

Park Sunghoon knew it was bad news when he found out the two of you would reunite under the shackles of this web drama project. Park Sunghoon knew he couldn’t control himself around you; that you knew just how to drive his heart crazy. That was exactly why he was left here, alone in the living room, with the image of you running away from him replaying in his brain. 

His feelings for you have sparked once again. He wasn’t quite sure if they even left to begin with.  

But there was no way in hell your feelings would ever reciprocate. Not in a million years. It was clear the moment you ran away from him. 

A ping! jumps from Sunghoon’s phone, the light from the screen catching his attention. His thumb swipes at the notification; a message from his manager. It reveals a calendar with the upcoming weekend highlighted a bright green. The coloured boxes read only one sentence, but it was a sentence that would be burned in Sunghoon’s brain for a lifetime. 

FILMING AT JEJU - WEEKEND SHOOT + WRAP UP PARTY

A weekend away at Jeju island. With you. 

Sunghoon’s heart leaped from his chest.

Jeju island was a tourist spot most notably known for its beach resorts, pearl blue ocean water, and unique cuisine. For most, it’s considered a home away from home, a paradise to let your hair down, to destress from the chaos of life. 

For you, however, it’s a different story. 

“There must’ve been some mistake!” Your manager’s voice echoed through the hotel lobby. You still managed to hear her loud and clear despite sitting across the large room. “You mean there’s no room booked?”

The hotel staff only glared back at your manager, face deadpan. “I’m sorry ma’am, I don’t see your name on the list. We’re fully booked at the moment. I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

With a huff escaping her lips, your manager treks back to your figure, her shoulders slumped to the ground. You didn’t even need to ask. Based on her defeated demeanour, and the fact that you overheard the whole conversation from where you sat, you understood; you had no place to stay. Here you were; in the paradise of Jeju Island, homeless for the weekend. Stress washed over you.

Your manager whips her phone out, swiping aggressively as she buried her face into the screen. “I’m so sorry, y/n, but we’re gonna have to find a motel tonight. I’ll look for the nearest one right now.” 

“That isn’t necessary, miss.”  A voice perks up behind you. A voice that needed no introduction as your frame froze in its place. Sunghoon sauntered away from his visibly worried manager, and towards your sunken figures, hands nonchalantly in his pockets. “You two can stay with me and my manager.”  

You choked. What sick game was Sunghoon playing? 

Your manager politely waves her hands to refuse, but you quickly step in, hands crossed over your puffed chest as an act of defence. You barely even managed to keep steady eye contact. “We don’t want your help. A motel will do just fine.”

“No one should have to pay extra just for a motel,” Sunghoon reasons, not backing down. “We also booked the deluxe suite; there’s plenty of room for the four of us.” 

Your manager’s resolve quickly faded away the moment Sunghoon mentioned paying extra for a last minute room. Her eyes grew wary, shaky. The harsh reality of finances crashing down on her in an instant. She wasn’t going to give in so easily, was she? 

She was.

She looked at you with doe-like eyes. “We should accept their offer, y/n. It’s only for the weekend.”

Before you knew it, you and your bags were being taken up to the top floor of the hotel. Into the deluxe suite that belonged to the one and only Park Sunghoon.

A defeated sigh. It was the only reaction your body could muster amidst the sheer buffoonery of your current situation. Being forced to room with the man that drove you crazy; how's that for comedy?

You shot up from the edge of the bed, the thought of your depressing situation suddenly parching your throat. You pivot towards the kitchen, attempting to pay no mind to the series of zips and rummaging of luggage currently happening in the living room. You didn’t want to give Sunghoon the light of day, even if he was just innocently unpacking his suitcase. 

Crisp ice water slides down your throat as your eyes wander. Stubbornly. Eventually landing on the man you swore you would ignore. 

His eyes were on you, too.  

You quickly dart away, your heart beating rapidly.

Sunghoon roughly clears his throat, the sound echoing around the walls of the living room. You glance back, watching him cling unto the nape of his neck with one hand, while the other loosely tosses a card onto the armrest of the couch. Almost immediately after, Sunghoon turned away from you. “Here’s the second keycard—your manager forgot to pick it up before she left.” 

You only nodded, shuffling over to retrieve it. Of course he didn’t consider throwing it somewhere actually close to you.

The closer you got to the furniture, the more Sunghoon’s belongings appeared before you. His sweaters and shirts were folded in a neat and compact manner and sitting at the corner of the couch, his towel draped over the backrest. Miscellaneous items were littered across the surface of the couch, items you didn’t pay much attention to. Except for one.

A polaroid stuck out of Sunghoon’s wallet. You checked to see if Sunghoon was watching before snatching it away. It was an image of a younger Sunghoon standing in the middle, holding up a cake as frosting was smudged on his nose and cheek. A wide grin was plastered on his face as other trainees surrounded him. You were in the picture, too, right by his side as you held onto one side of the cake. A finger covered in frosting suggests that you were the culprit of his smudged face. He didn’t seem to care, considering Sunghoon’s cheeky grin was directed at you. Devil horns were drawn on Sunghoon’s head, and a messy heart was traced around your face. 

A date was etched into the bottom of the polaroid. 12/08/2018. Sunghoon’s birthday; the last birthday he had before leaving the company. Your eyes widen, heart racing.

Why would he keep something like this?

“You still have this?” Your voice trembled. Sunghoon’s head whips back to find you holding the polaroid, his eyes widened in surprise. He treks over to you, swatting the picture away from your hands. “What are you doing!?”

You fidget with your fingers, eyes gazing on the carpet. How long has he had that picture? What did that mean? You look up at Sunghoon once again, slow steps bringing you closer to his frame. 

“Why do you still have this?”

“I just do.” Sunghoon’s eyes held yours hostage. He didn’t say much, yet the weight of his stare was enough to move worlds.

His eyes quickly diverted from your gaze as he continued to unpack. You nipped at your lip; Sunghoon’s answer wasn’t enough. Questions spiralled in your head. Your world was unravelling before you. You retired back to your room, your back keeping the door shut. Your face was flushed, your chest heaved. 

What was Park Sunghoon doing to you? 

“We’ll have you two start from the couch and then move onto the bed. We’ll end the scene when Sunghoon takes his shirt off.” Your director instructs, his hands blocking the scene directions on your last official filming session. 

Normally, you would’ve been elated at that fact. However, if this trip has proven anything to you, it's that the universe wants you to suffer. And so, this exciting final scene you were currently stuck filming was none other than a steamy makeout session between the two main characters at a romantic getaway. 

Fear shot down your spine, your brain hot-wiring at that very moment. You were already overwhelmed with the revelation that Sunghoon’s polaroid from last night brought you. By then, your heart was already leaping from your chest. The last thing you needed was to lock lips with the man responsible for your malfunctioning brain. 

Nevertheless, you hiked towards the couch like a mindless drone. You’ve given up on fighting for what you want. Sitting on the couch, you suddenly grew overwhelmingly conscious of your clothes—or lack thereof. You dawned a tank top etched in lace trim, shorts of the same pattern, and a satin robe to cover your arms. You knew that this outfit was necessary for the scene, but that didn’t stop fear from shooting down your spine.

Sunghoon soon joins you on the couch, dawning a simple white button down, with a few buttons undone—exposing his bare chest. Instinctively, you hug your chest, shielding your skin with the satin fabric of your robe. You caught a glance of his collarbones, the way his adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped. Heat creeped against your cheeks. 

Sunghoon averted his gaze from you, yet you still felt as though all attention was within your grasp. His hand rested on his knee, fingers fidgeting the wrinkles of his trousers. 

“Tell me if you get uncomfortable, alright? I’ll stop—even if the scene isn’t finished.”

There he was, reassuring you like the caring asshole he is. Your heart leaped.

“Okay.”

It didn’t take long before your lips were snug against his, his weight overpowering yours as he moved to lay on top of you. Sunghoon’s hand snaked against your jaw, gently creeping further to the back of your head to provide you a makeshift headrest. Your hands reached up around his neck and his shirt collar, pulling his frame closer against your exposed chest. Sunghoon’s skin was warm. His other hand grips your waist, a finger poking beneath your shield of fabric. His touch was soft.

Your heart was pounding so hard, it pulsated through your ears.

This was just a scene, you reminded yourself. 

Your breaths grew hazy as Sunghoon lifted your frame into his arms. You wrapped your legs around his hips instantly—clockwork. In just a few steps, Sunghoon’s knees reached the edge of the bed. He laid you back down gently, your frame sinking into the plush of the bed. Your arms refused to let go, holding him closer for more kisses. Your stomach flipped in on itself. Sunghoon gently pulled himself away, standing up straight. You watched as his hands trailed up to the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning them one by one. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

Within seconds, Sunghoon slipped the white fabric off of his broad shoulders, tossing it aside before bending back down to meet your lips once more. Your fingertips grazed against his skin tracing his shoulder blades. His skin grew warmer against your touch, as if you were lighting him on fire.

This was just a scene, you reminded yourself once more.

“CUT!” Your director’s voice pierced through your ears, pulling you back to reality. Sunghoon immediately jumps off of you, trekking off to retrieve his shirt back. His back was turned towards you, but a quick glance could confirm his cheeks were currently flaring red. You, however, couldn’t say much on the matter—you were in even more of a mess than he was. 

The two of you linked eyes for a split second, tension fogging up the air around you. All while your heart was still pounding so loud your ears could hear. 

Distracted. Park Sunghoon was distracted. And it was all thanks to you. 

The spice of liquor scratched against his throat, the ice cubes kissing his lips. He huffed a sigh, running a hand through his hair for the umteenth time that evening of the wrap up party. He didn’t even bother listening to the boring speech his director was giving, or anyone else who was talking that night—it all washed away, like grains of sand parallel to a body of water. 

Sunghoon couldn’t figure out what exactly was causing this feeling. Maybe it was the fact that he so foolishly let you stay over in his hotel room. Now, he was stuck sleeping just a few paces away from the woman he loved but couldn’t have. Torture. He gulped down another sour sip. Or maybe it was the way you kissed him that afternoon. Even if it was just for a simple scene, the way you melted into his lips made Sunghoon wish everything was real. Maybe he was drunk on your kisses, and a little bit of booze, too. 

His eyes wandered, only to be led straight to you. With a glass of wine in your hand, you stood in a small huddle consisting of your manager and a few other faces Sunghoon couldn’t recognize. 

Maybe it was the way you glistened without the need for any light. You lit the dim banquet hall up with your smile. The smile Sunghoon missed so dearly.

Another gulp.

Or maybe it was the way you wouldn’t even spare Sunghoon a glance since the wrap up party. The way he had let himself get carried away trying to get close to you, and ultimately driving you further away. Maybe Sunghoon just needed to finally accept everything. 

A distraction. You needed a distraction. From Park Sunghoon, specifically.

Park Sunghoon had unwantedly staked his claim on your brain for longer than you wanted. The man you knew to be selfish and cruel, willing to break your friendship in the blink of an eye, was turning your world upside down. He was caring for you, ensuring your comfort, putting you first. It all confused you, set your brain into overdrive. 

And that polaroid. The picture the size of your palm, capable of burning everything you knew into flames of the unknown. It left you with endless questions; though one stood out like a sore thumb. 

Did Sunghoon miss you?

That was an absurd thought. 

Nevertheless, it was a thought that nipped and itched at your brain for the rest of the evening, and you needed a way out. Your first course of action was to hide. Sitting at a table that was oceans away from where Sunghoon and his manager sat during your director’s long and drawn out speech. Shoving and squeezing yourself into groups of people you barely knew; you basically trailed your manager around like a lost puppy. 

When you weren’t wandering around aimlessly, however, you were tucked away in the washrooms, calling Kiri as you sat hunched over on a closed toilet seat, whisper-shouting as you explained the escalated situation.  

“Just ask him, y/n.” Kiri huffed over the phone. “It’ll give you peace of mind.”

“I can’t just approach him!”

“Why not?”

“I dunno, I just can’t think straight around him! He’s constantly on my mind and he drives me crazy! I think my blood pressure spikes the moment I’m near him—”

“y/n?” Kiri interrupts. You gulp. “Yeah?”

“Do you like Sunghoon?”

You choked, turning a few heads of guests washing their hands at the bathroom sink. Was Kiri being serious? You didn’t like Sunghoon. He drove you clinically insane, he was so unpredictable it made you want to rip your own hair out. Whenever you were around him, your heart stubbornly danced beneath your chest, your mind went haywire.

Oh god. 

You liked Park Sunghoon.

“I-I have to go.” You hung up at the speed of light. 

You didn’t need a distraction. You needed answers. 

Stepping out of the bathroom, you scanned the venue. Your eyes landed on a glass of wine resting in someone’s hand. Your eyes then pivot to the open bar, empty and barren. A lightbulb springs from your head. 

The last thing Sunghoon expected to see tonight was you, piss drunk and toppled over on the counter of the open bar. 

Your face was hidden in the nest of your forearms, your hair was messy and spread out. Sunghoon was positive a strand or two had fallen into your mouth. Peaking through the bush of your hair, Sunghoon gazed at your droopy eyes, eyelids practically sealed shut by fatigue. Empty glasses outlined your figure, but you couldn’t bother to pay it any mind. The outside world didn’t matter when you were this drunk. 

That was the problem. You couldn’t care less about your surroundings; it was dangerous. 

Sunghoon nipped at his lips, his eyes holding onto your frame like his life depended on it. He knew leaving you alone and unattended was irresponsible, that it would place your life in grave danger. You were smack dab in the middle of a social event, strangers littered all around you. Anything could happen at any moment. 

Nevertheless, Sunghoon also knew your current resolve when it came to him. He knew you hated him, you couldn’t stand being near him. A hand ran through his hair. Would he even be of any help?

Sunghoon sighed, drilling his hands through his pockets. Someone else could probably help you just fine. You probably didn’t need him. 

In 3 seconds he changed his mind.

A fire burned in his chest, his jaw tensing as he saw your passed out frame. Sunghoon marched over to your seat, his blazer slipping off of his shoulders and into his hands. Sunghoon soon spread the blazer over your shoulders, which were exposed and laced with goosebumps from the air-conditioned room. He caught the attention of people passing by when he pulled your frame up by your shoulders, gently resting your head against his chest as he swung down to pick up your legs. He swung your frame away from the open bar and out of the banquet hall. 

He trudged towards the hotel elevators, your figure slumped in his arms. He couldn’t help but glance at your sleeping frame. 

Even now, you looked beautiful as ever. 

Opening your eyes, you were greeted with two things; the hotel room’s ceiling, and Park Sunghoon’s blazer enveloping your torso. 

Your stomach was flipping in on itself, your heart racing. It actually worked. Your suspicions were right. Park Sunghoon actually brought you to your hotel room—your and his room, anyway. 

To say that you didn’t feel just a little bit guilty would be a big understatement. Pretending you were drunk out of your mind at an open bar, hoping the man you just found out you had feelings for would see you and take you to his room just to test whether or not he cared for you—maybe it wasn’t the best idea. You, however, were desperate. You needed to know where Sunghoon’s heart stood.

As you rose up into a sitting position, A figure shuffled into the room. A figure that needed no introduction.

“You’re not really drunk, are you?” Sunghoon accused, a hand dropping a glass of water gently onto the desk left of his hips. You only gulp, murmuring your response. 

“M-maybe.”

Exasperated, Sunghoon heaves a deep sigh. His head is thrown back, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down. You watched as he shuffled over to you, his figure plopping onto the edge of your bed. 

“Don’t scare me like that!”

Sunghoon’s eyes held you hostage, boring into you. As if he was reaching into your soul and claiming it as his own. You, however, stood still, in a trance. Unable to move under his presence. A blanket of silence fell on top of you—it was so silent you could hear your heartbeat pulsating in your ears. Quickly, you snap out of your trance, eyes severing the contact as you scurried away from his frame. 

“Then don’t get so scared.” you spat defensively.

Sunghoon clung onto the nape of his neck. “How could I not? It’s dangerous—”

“Just—stop it already!” you snapped, interrupting him as your palms pushed into the mattress. “Stop getting scared for me, caring for me—stop that!”

Sunghoon's eyes gaze down at his feet before trailing up to meet yours. As you continue, your eyes couldn’t help but follow suit, hanging onto his gaze like your life depended on it. You shoot up from your spot on the bed, your heart stuck in your windpipe as you towered over him.

“You’re supposed to hate me! Call me names, make fun of me. Instead, you’re this caring, sweet guy that I can’t stop thinking about! I mean, we’re supposed to be enemies. You know, when you left the agency that day; when you left me that day, I swore I would hate you with all my heart. How the hell are you gonna be my enemy when my heart races at the thought of you? If you’re all that's on my mind?”

You gulp. “How the hell am I supposed to hate you when I like you so much?” 

“You like me?”

A hand slapped over your mouth. Sunghoon’s eyes widened as he gazed up at you. His jaw practically grazed the floor. He blinked a few times as your heartbeat pounded again in your ears. 

“Leaving the agency was never my choice.” Sunghoon’s voice was hushed.

What?

Slowly you sat down. Sunghoon watched you, his eyes holding yours hostage the entire time you sunk down onto your side of the bed. 

“I know that this sounds like some sick excuse, but I never wanted to leave. The CEO saw how close we were during our days as trainees, and thought that it would threaten our careers if we ever had any rumours spread about us.” A hand brushed over Sunghoon’s hair. “So, he asked me to leave. The CEO had no plans on telling you about any of this, so I had to keep it from you, too.”

Suddenly, Sunghoon slid off of the bed, kneeling before your figure. He gazed up at you once more. “I’m sorry—for everything.”

Your heart was racing. Sunghoon continued. “I’m sorry for keeping the truth from you, for leaving you that day. None of that would’ve happened if I was careful, if my heart wasn’t so stubborn.”

“What are you saying?” Your voice trembled. 

Sunghoon heaved a deep sigh. “I liked you, y/n. I liked you so much that I could barely keep it in, barely keep composure. I tried my hardest to get over you, but it was no use.”

Sunghoon’s eyes glistened under the amber hotel lights. “I knew my feelings for you only grew.”

A thread hung in the balance as the two of you continued to stare into each other’s eyes—a thread you wouldn’t dare sever, never in this lifetime. You watched as they sparkled; held the stars beneath their surface. You watched as they stared lovingly at you, yet hungry for you all at the same time. You also watched as your own hands grew minds of their own, reaching out to Sunghoon’s cheek before stopping mid-air. “Sunghoon?”

“Hm?”

“I think I need to kiss you.”

As he pressed your trembling hands up against his soft cheek, Sunghoon’s lips folded up into a grin, his voice melting like honey. “I’m all yours.”

Park Sunghoon tasted sweet against your lips— Sweet floral scents, most likely his cologne, puffed out from his frame as you held him close. You snaked an arm around his neck, fingers clinging around the nape. His palms hooked onto your waist, fingertips digging into your skin. As if you were minutes away from leaving his touch; he wasn’t about to let that happen again. Your grip on him grew tighter, too. You didn’t want him slipping from your fingertips either. Never again. 

A part of you felt warm and fuzzy; this kiss was real. 

With his weight overtaking you, Sunghoon leans further into the kiss, his lips pushing deep into yours. Your shoulders press deep into the plush of the mattress as his figure shells over you, shielding you from the outside world. Fireworks pop against your skin. Your stomach flips in on itself each time Sunghoon nibbles at your bottom lip; teasing you. Your hands roam around his back, tracing each bump and crevice of his body, relishing in his touch. His palm cradled your head, lacing between your hair strands. It was as if you were floating on a cloud. 

With one swipe of his tongue at your lips, Sunghoon deepened your kiss, his tongue sliding against yours. His movements grow rash, fierce. As if he’d been starving for centuries; and you were his next meal. His hand glides up and down your waist, your skin tight dress doing nothing to conceal the friction. Heat bundles up between your legs.

You wanted more.

A moan slips from your lips, entrapped in your kiss. That, however, didn’t stop Sunghoon from hearing you loud and clear; from igniting a flame within his chest. With you, his mind was a ticking bomb. Gently, Sunghoon pushes away from the kiss, his breath hazing against your lips. His eyes flickered open, immediately gazing down at you. 

“How far are we going, tonight?” Sunghoon huffed. “I’m not moving until you tell me.”

Your fingers traced his muscles. They were tense and flexed; he was clearly restraining himself. Stopping himself from indulging in you like some beast. You gazed up at him. The way his collar bones peaked through his neckline, his cheeks flushed a rosy pink; as if he was drunk on your presence. The way his hair hung over his starry eyes. 

You’ve never felt more certain of something in your life.

Your hand cradled Sunghoon’s cheeks. “I want you, Hoonie. All of you.

At the sound of your nickname, Sunghoon’s eyes grew hungry, dark as he harshly pressed into your lips. His tongue slid up against yours. They tangle, intertwine; eliciting another mewl from your lips. Sunghoon was certain his brain short circuited at your voice. Slyly, Sunghoon pressed his knee against your inner thigh, outlining its frame before slowly inching closer to your centre. The pressure sent shivers down your spine, your back instinctively arching forwards. Like you were aching to be closer, to hold him tighter. 

Sunghoon’s knee pressed further into your clothed core; one that was practically soaked. He moved the knee up and down, left to right; your brows furrowed in euphoria. A full, booming moan echoed, earning a needy grunt from the man who drove you insane. 

“That sound is driving me crazy, baby.” Sunghoon gritted through his teeth. “Moan more for me, yeah?” 

You didn’t even need to try. 

Slowly, Sunghoon peppered kisses down your jaw, sucking against your searing skin. With a hand at the small of your back, Sunghoon lifts you up from the bed, his hand trailing up and fiddling with the zipper of your dress. He pulls the zipper down, and you’ve never been more grateful for built-in bra pads. His lips, however, never once breached contact, his lips gently migrating down to your collar bones, your chest, and eventually the swell of your breasts. Your breath hitched as you felt his warmth circulate your nipples. Sunghoon takes a breast into his lips, his tongue swirling and flicking against your stiffened. You whimper at the contact, your core pooling in lust.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

After blindly searching for his hand, you tug on his wrist, positioning it between his thighs. Sunghoon smirked against your skin, the vibrations of his chuckle shuddering through your body—he heard you, loud and clear. After pulling down the rest of your dress, Sunghoon feathers his touch against your inner thighs, teasing you. You throw your head back, swimming in ecstasy. 

Softly, too soft, he drew circles around your clothed pussy. He grazed against your clit, driving you crazy. For a split second, Sunghoon parted his lips from your skin, moving up to meet your ear. “Where do you want my fingers, darling?”

You whimper, trying to find the words as Sunghoon toyed with your folds beneath the fabric. “In—fuck—inside. Please.” 

In an instant, Sunghoon pushed aside the measly fabric, finding your core dripping in heat; dripping for him. A digit slides into your folds, exploring your walls. He pumps his finger slowly, in and out as your back arches in desire. Your body spazzed and jolted. His knuckles grazed against your walls as he pumped faster and faster. Sunghoon slyly pushes in another finger, and then another, stretching your pussy around the width. You felt every inch of him, every section of his skin. As his pumps grow faster, harsher, Sunghoon’s fingers curl inwards, hitting your spot. 

You couldn’t keep in your noises, your lew moan bouncing against the walls, the same way your hips bounced against his fingers. In a weak effort to quiet down, you bite your finger. Sunghoon, however, quickly notices, gripping your hand by the wrist. “Don’t—I wanna hear you, princess.” 

You only whimper a response, your legs growing further apart with each pump of his fingers. A knot begins to crumple together at the pit of your stomach, your moans growing louder and louder. You found yourself shouting Sunghoon’s name without realising it, gripping into his skin. Sunghoon dips his hips against your bare core, pressing his digits further into you. You felt a tenting sensation against your core. 

The knot grew tighter and tighter as Sunghoon’s pumps grew hasty and messy. Wet sloshes echo in the room, though they were overpowered by your lust-ridden mewls. Sunghoon grinds into you, the metal of his belt buckle shocking your core frozen. 

“Cum on me, princess.” Sunghoon demands.

On cue, the knot finally pops open, and juices drip out of your pussy as you scream out his name. It coated your walls, his fingers, even the bed beneath you. Sunghoon made sure you watched as he took his dirty fingers into his mouth, sucking your sweet juices dry. 

“How much more can you handle, baby?” Sunghoon askes between huffs. You glance down, the zipper of his pant’s barely holding in the tent beneath his pants. You only nod, lust hazing over your eyes. Sunghoon smiles, kissing your temple. “Good. We’re not even close to done, princess.”

In a few swift moments, Sunghoon unbuckled his pants. You watched as the fabric dropped down to his knees, his length revealing itself. Your eyes gawked at the sight, earning only a chuckle from Sunghoon as he brought your wrist up to his lips.

“Only you make me like this, y/n.” He kissed your skin. 

An ache clouded your pussy. Suddenly, you felt empty, needy. You needed him. You mewl, gaining his attention in an instant. “I need your cock, Hoon.”

Rolling a condom around his dick, Sunghoon positions his tip at your entrance. You send a signal before Sunghoon presses into you. You throw your head back, eyes rolling to the heavens at the contact. His cock filled you up, grazing and sliding against your walls. Your skin slaps against each other with each slow thrust, the dirty noises filling up the room. Sunghoon throws your legs over his shoulders, giving him more access to your wet, needy pussy. Your hands gripped the sheets; anything to stay tethered to reality. 

Sunghoon’s thrusts grow messy and rough. That familiar knot bundles up beneath your stomach as an idea pops into your mind. 

“Can I go on top?” You huff breathlessly. Sunghoon gulps, covering his embarrassed face with the back of his palm. “Y-yeah. Please.”

You and Sunghoon clamour around to switch positions, reaching for random kisses back and forth. Your back faced him, your ass grinding against his abs, your shoulder blades rubbing against his chest. Slowly, you sink onto his dick, your folds enveloping his throbbing length. Sunghoon grunts closely behind you, concealing his sounds with kisses against your neck. His hands roam around you; digging into your hips, fondling your breasts. Though, it was the mischievous massaging of your clit that sent your brain to short circuit. You bounced on his cock faster, your and his moans intertwining in the night air. 

“You don’t know how many times I’ve dreamt of this, princess,” Sunghoon strained. “Of you bouncing on my cock—shit—just like that.”

His words send butterflies through your stomach. Your pussy clamps down on his cock as the two of you scream each other’s name. You weren’t far from your second climax of the night. One more bounce against his dick sent your juices overflowing. Sunghoon’s pools up at the tip of his condom. Slowly, you pull away from his length, plopping down beside him on the bed, huffing from exhaustion. Sunghoon lays down with you, cradling his frame in your arms. 

“That was amazing.” You hum into his skin. Sunghoon traces small shapes along your bare back. “You were amazing, baby.”

Suddenly, the jingle of keys sound from across the hotel room. 

Your managers. They were back from the party.

Uh oh.

“You realise how dangerous this is, right?” Your CEO pinches his nose bridge, leaning back into his office chair. “The press won’t react lightly to this.”

You and Sunghoon glanced at each other, shoulders pressed against one another as you stood before your CEO. Sweat beaded from your forehead. Though, you had every right to be nervous; you were currently asking for permission to go public with Park Sunghoon. The man you loved most. 

“Yes—” 

“Let me finish,” Your CEO raised his hand. “But, seeing as though you both are highly regarded and successful artists, and no longer trainees—I’ll allow it.”

The two of you lit up, immediately gazing at each other with smiles. You cling onto one another in a sweet embrace. As he only half-payed attention to your CEO’s orders of letting his company know, Sunghoon peppers kisses on your cheek. 

Sunghoon pushes your hair behind your ear, smiling. “You’re finally mine, baby.”

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 18

part 1 | part 17 | ao3

“I’m sorry I’m sorry don’t hate me I’m sorry, did it work? Don’t hate me. Did it work?”

“Dustin,” Steve barks. Dustin looks up, eyes bright; he's hugging Steve so hard it’s like he’s trying to fuse his face to Steve’s rib cage through his shirt. Steve scruffs him on the top of the head, rubbing his knuckles over his dumb baseball cap in a way he hopes is reassuring, and wheezes, “Can’t breathe, bud.” 

The kid takes a hesitant step back, fists still balled in the fabric of Steve’s shirt like he might run away. Mike’s cowering behind him, hunched in on himself and nervously eyeing up the nail bat.

“So you’re... not mad?” Dustin asks.

“Oh, I’m fucking pissed,” Steve smiles sarcastically. “Hope you used that Butterscotch wisely, dude, because it’s the only one you’re getting for the rest of the year. Also, you can kiss your full candy bar trick-or-treating plans goodbye.”

“What? No!” Mike starts to whine, but immediately shuts his mouth when Steve glares at him. Then Eddie swoops in behind them, clapping a hand on both kids’ shoulders and nearly startling Mike out of his skin.

“And, uh, for obvious reasons,” he says in an acidic sing-song, “you’re both banned from Hellfire for the next month.”

“WHAT?” 

Oh, this guy’s good.

“Eddie, what the fuck?!” Mike pleads. “We’re just about to get to the manor’s secret passage!” 

“Yes, and what a shame that your paladin triggered a hidden trap and got stuck in a faulty portal for the next four sessions.” 

“Oh, my god! This is— this is—!” 

“Payback?” Eddie sneers.

Dustin’s eyes are darting rapid fire between the two of them, and he elbows Mike in the ribs and hisses, “Dude, shut up before he kills us both for good!” 

“Oh, my god,” Mike says again, face twisting through all five stages of grief. 

“Oh, also,” Steve adds for his own amusement as he heads toward the stairs, “you two can clean all this camping shit up.” 

—

“You play a good game of Punish the Pipsqueaks,” Steve grins, walking side by side with Eddie. "That D&D ban? Ouch. Keep that up and the moms will start recruiting you for babysitting duty."

“Oh, boy!” Eddie smirks. “My dream finally realized.”

They get back to their cars, and Steve shivers a little, the cold finally getting to him now that he doesn’t have the fight or flight to keep him warm. He unlocks the bimmer and slides into the front seat; cranks up the heat, his hands impatiently hovering in front of the vents. 

Eddie catches the car door. “You’re really not going to punish them more?" he asks, leaning in, head cocked to the side. "I mean, no trick-or-treating sucks and all, but. Seems a little lenient, doesn’t it?” 

“Yeah, it does,” Steve agrees with a short laugh, “but see, the thing is, those two dumbasses are assuming that revenge is a dish best served cold, when actually?" He points at the house. "It’s a dish best served by Claudia Henderson.”

Eddie’s brows lift in question.

“I’m gonna call her tomorrow morning and say I caught them smoking at the bus stop.” 

“Jesus!" Eddie laughs. "That’s diabolical.” 

“And then I’m gonna suggest they do community service at the retirement home on Halloween instead of trick-or-treating, because Dustin’s weirdly afraid of old people.” 

Eddie's laugh turns to a cackle, all his teeth on display, and the car bounces on its wheels as he leans his weight against the door. “Oh, man," he exhales, wiping the corners of his eyes. "Remind me not to get on your bad side.” 

“Pretty sure we’ve only ever been on each other’s bad sides.” Steve’s joking, but Eddie’s smile slips a little, and Steve wants to take it back. Pluck the words from the fog of chilled breath hanging between them; tell him that they're not anymore, that they don't have to be again.

But then Eddie catches the bass line coming from Steve’s speakers and the grin comes back full force. 

“Hold the fuck on," he beams, nodding his head to the beat and hum-mumbling the melody as the words come back to him.

Following the footsteps of a red dawn dance, we are entranced. 

“Spellbound,” he sings, shaking his head in delighted disbelief. “I’m sorry, does Steve Harrington have a Siouxsie tape in his car?”

Steve’s face goes red. Fucking Robin. “If you’re about to talk shit about the music, I— I mean, I’m just the chauffeur, man, I don’t—”

“Relax. It’s not that, I just…” He raps his knuckles against the roof. Gives Steve a once over; smiles softly at whatever he sees.

“What?” Steve asks. Kinda likes how he has to crane his neck to look up at him.

“Nothing," Eddie murmurs, low and deep. "You’re just full of surprises, aren't you?"

Steve shivers again.

It seems to snap Eddie out of... whatever that was. “My bad, man,” he says, his voice back to normal volume. He apologizes for letting in the cold air and slips Steve’s jacket off, handing it back to him and shutting the door with a soft click, then he throws out a parting salute and skips off to his van.

Steve just sits there for a moment, feeling syrupy and dumb. Like there's whiskey in his chest, a full flask of it sloshing around behind his ribs.

His jacket smells like Eddie. Siouxsie croons in his good ear.

Spellbound, spellbound, oh-oh-oh.  

"Jesus Christ," he mutters as he cuts the music off. He drives home in silence, the song still ringing in his ears.

—

part 19

first half of tag list below the cut comment if you want me to add you to the next one

@heartsong18 @hellion-child @hiimlevi @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @jaytriesstuff @littlebluejane @lololol-1234 @marklee-blackmore @melonmochi @messrs-weasley @mrsjellymunson @mugloversonly @nburkhardt @nerdyglassescheeseychick @noodle-shenaniganery @notsopersonalcharlie @novelnovella @nuggies4life @pending-dope-username @perseus-notjackson @ppunkpuppyy @questionablequeeries @remosdeerica @runninriot @sadcanadianwinter @shamelesspatrolshepherdcowboy @silver-snaffles @singmeyoursimpsong @slowandsteddie @slutforcoffein @solalasoforth @spookednsaucy @steddieas-shegoes @steddie-island @stevesbipanic @steves-strapcollection @taleah-bonnick @teatimeeverybody @th30ra3k3n @thealwithnoname @thespaceantwhowrites @thestarslittleking @thesuninyaface @trensu @violetsteve @wormdebut @yourmom-isgay @zoeweee @zombiecreatures

[targaryenluvs]

hiiii okay so I had an idea for like Coryo x little sister where she’s about 12 years old and she looks just like her mom and Coryo, Tigris, and Grandma’am just love her so much BUT she somehow ends up in the hunger games s a tribute and she becomes like besties with Wovey, Reaper, and Lucy- plus she’s giving Coryo a heart attack every five minutes especially during the bombing- finally during his peacekeeper era when he finds out they were evicted she was taken from their custody and so when he comes back with the plinth fortune and all that she just runs up and is all cuddly with him and he’s like “u know what fuck custody paperwork” and just snatches her back home- thank u sooo much💗

SAFE AND SOUND

pairings: coriolanus snow x younger!sister!reader, lucy gray x younger!sister!reader

summary: somehow you’d ended up in the games, snow and lucy would do anything to keep you safe.

warnings: murderrr, possessive/selfish thoughts, child endangerment, cheating, rude ass corio, fluff in the end nd a little happy fam, deter from og storyline, protective lucy and snow, family dynamics, theyd do anything to make sure you’re okay

a/n: i did change the story line a little!!

the drones were whirring about you.

people were being knocked down as lucy grabbed you and ran to safety. “keep with me baby girl!” she shouted as you ran, your legs ached but you knew what would happen if you stopped.

coriolanus couldn’t breathe until you were safe. which is why he exhaled a long and heavy breath when you and lucy settled into the vent again. everyone around him was quiet for once, they laughed at all the tributes except you. they all loved you, every time coriolanus brought you around their horrible personalities and stuck up selves melted away with your adoring smile and sweet voice.

reprieve, or so you thought, came in the form of the large tube in front of you. but based off of lucy’s face you knew something was up, and as wovey walked towards it you couldn’t help but shout and cry for her.

“down goes wovey!” thank god. coriolanus thought. that idiotic girl was impulsive and silly, she shouldn’t have lasted as long as she did. she almost killed you with her stupidity, brung you along to her execution as you cried for her to stop.

you’d survived. somehow.

in the history of the games there had only been two victors. so far.

but at what cost? your brother had been sentenced away to district 12 and the only other person who shared any understanding for what you went through was no where to be found. in the wind, gone.

so you did what you thought best.

you ran.

all the way to twelve and the comfort of your dear older brother.

he was going insane. he’d lost you and lucy. sejanus was god knows where and probably planning something illegal. he was stressed the fuck out and all he wanted was a hug from you. for you to put secret braids in his hair when you thought he was sleeping, for you to kiss his cheek every morning before rambling on about school.

the place was alive as she sang. everyone danced but coriolanus stared. he’d found one half of the puzzle. lucy looked amazing and he found himself relaxing at the sound of her voice.

you’d peeked through the window. the noise had drawn you to it. it was your first day alone, ever, and in the worst district. you were scared beyond measure but soon to be saved as you caught a glimpse of lucy twirling on stage, her eye-line drawing you to corio.

the hug from behind caught him off guard but had his mind spinning as he recognised the small hands gripping oh so tightly at his waist. the bracelet he’d made so long ago and the smell of roses, which for once wasn’t himself, and hadn’t been for a while.

“y/n.” he breathed out as you laced your arms around his neck, “i came from the capitol. i hate it corio. they took me away from our family and put me with some random family. i don’t like it, i miss you. please, don’t take me back.” you cried as he lifted you up, resting on his hip as he made his way outside, lucy following in tow as she wiped away tears after seeing your sweet face.

the lake was quiet and tame, slow waves lapping at the jetty and land as you lay curled up in corio’s lap, lulled to sleep by lucy’s melodies. and whilst the trio of you all had no idea what the future held it all didn’t matter in this moment. you felt happy, and you hadn’t felt it in so long. corio and lucy were your family, and you loved them.

corio had done horrible things in his life, the second you were drawn into the games nothing else mattered besides keeping you safe. those horrible things were known to few, one of them being the songbird to your left.

and no would ever tell you these things.

all that mattered?

you were safe and sound with them, they’d made sure of it.

[stevielicious]

𓆩⟡𓆪 His Little Stripper 𓆩⟡𓆪

pairing- Colby Brock x fem!reader

summary- a stripper catches the eyes of a handsome man, has a lotta fun

warnings- a lil angsty, some hardcore smut lol, cute lil ending

word count- 3k or sum? maybe 4k, LMAO

a/n- been a long time since I’ve written, enjoy

o==[]::::::::::::::::>

The whole studio was bouncing, the bass rhythmically played throughout the club. Swimming inside the walls, almost enticing you in. The night was young and had only just begun, it was a start to a long night. Here, I was treated almost like royalty, all the other dancers liked to roll their eyes or make snarky comments because they didn’t like the way I hogged all the attention, I was young and that’s nothing I could help.

You could say I was a good dancer. One of the best.

Brittney. I only had one friend in this place, the rest would only batter their eyelashes to get a hand on your earnings. Not Brittney though. She was a sweet, honest girl that just needed the extra cash and in complete fairness, that’s what we were both here for. We were both the youngest in this place. University costs an arm and a leg, there’s no lie in that. It was a hated industry, but the world is a tough place to make a living.

“Girl! You gotta get out there! it’s thriving with old dudes that have a TON of money!!” She heaved, slumping on a swivel chair next to mine, with a wide-eyed expression painted across her makeup clad features. I glanced at her through the huge mirrors stuck to the smoke stained walls, with a slight smirk finishing up on my cherry red lipgloss, “Oh yeah? Sounds just like every other night.”

“Well, I did see these couple guys around our age, maybe older, they were sooo hot.” Brittney explained, emphasising their good looks, applying makeup to her smudged areas. She seemed skittish, almost like she was eager to get back out there. This time I’d turned to face her, making my blonde hair a bouncy, wavey look. Being expressive with her hands, matter of factly she had said, “I sooo wished they’d came over to me, that brunette guy was soo handsome, so mysterious too. I’ll have to show you when you get your ass out there! I’d give that man a dance for free any day.”

I giggled, never hearing her talk like this made me believe these men were as handsome as she said they were. Maybe I’ll have to see for myself. I began to slip my cherry red heels on, glancing in the mirror, puffing my hair out. I had styled it in to an 80’s blowout type look, just more modernised. “I believe you girl, it’s been a while since we’ve had a looker come here.”

“Man, you look like a whole full course meal looking like that, Y/N. You have more of a chance than me at getting that handsome devil in a booth. Gosh, you’re so sexy!” Brittney huffed, looking at me with a sad but hopeful expression.

I grabbed her hand, pulling her out of her chair. Cupping her face with my hands, I said with confidence, “God is a woman, and you my friend are a fucking goddess! Now let’s get out there and make some fucking money!” She smiled into my hands as I then spun her around, seeing the sparkles on her little outfit shine.

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

I stood behind Brittney as she peeped from behind the big, draping, scarlet red curtain that lead out to the runway. A shiny pole awaiting us. Britt had kept an eye on the stage as I was trying to skim the crowd for the one who looks like they had the most cash with them. “Oh! Gabriella’s almost finished her dance, god blue is NOT her colour!”

“Brittney! You have to watch your mouth sometimes, you’ll get in trouble if someone hears you!” I wispered harshly, playfully jabbing her arm. She moved over a little so I could get a better look of the crowd. Taking me by surprise, a pair of striking blue eyes caught my own as I swiftly shut the curtain, almost knocking Britt over, “Holy shit.”

“What? What!” The brunette nudged me out the way as I took a step back, body running cold. I heard her muttering as she closed the curtain as quick as she re-opened it, turning to me. “Oh my God, that’s him!”

“Shut up! I’ve never seen him before, I can’t dance infront of him, he’s too pretty to be here! What’s a guy like him doing here?! God!” I gulped, walking back and forth on myself, finding my nerves getting the better of me of me. God, his dark brown hair and that shiny earring glistening in his ear, the black button up, the shine on his rings and tattooed arms, man. I’m used to dancing for 40+ year old guys, not actual good looking guys my age!

“Are you being serious right now, Y/N? You’re the hottest one here, if Gab’s can flaunt it then you definitely can too!” She exclaimed assertively, stopping me in my tracks, hands on either side of my arms. Pointing her finger in my face.

“Hey sluts, they’re waiting.” A scratchy, unbothered voice had sounded as the clacking of heels sounded down the set of stairs held by the stage. We both rolled our eyes as she swang her hips side to side, sauntering away from us.

“Ugh, whatta bitch.” We muttered in unison, breathing out a laugh. Britt gave me a subtle peck on the cheek, something she always did to calm my nerves before my journey to the pole, “Knock ‘em dead, Y/N”

As she turned my track on, I took a deep breath, pushing my boobs up a little, feeling the deep red lace against my body. Promiscuous sounded, by Nelly & Timbaland. As much as it is a corny song, the boys loved it.

Whipping my hair over my shoulder, I winked at my bestie, and started my walk. The giant curtains opened as I started to strut. The dim lights only lighting up solely on the pole. My confidence returning as my hips swirled to the beat, winking at thirsty men in the crowd. I raised my arms leaning my head back touching my chest.

I made my way over to the center, strutting around the shiny metal pole, caressing it gently. Placing my heels accordingly on the polished platform, stepping on dollar bills everywhere I walked. “Promiscuous girl, you’re teasin’ me. You know what I want and I got what you need.”

I raised my leg on the pole letting my body drape around as my arm held my balance along the pole. As I smoothly came to the bottom of the glistening metal, I spread my legs one infront and one behind, bouncing slightly. Rolling onto my next move, the same pair of blue eyes caught my attention, I couldn’t help but stare for a second, which felt like minutes, as I got behind the pole, he winked at me.

Which took me by surprise as I blushed. I gulped and returned the wink. I blew a kiss at this man, as I slut dropped down the metal shaft, licking up it. Keeping eye contact, his mouth agape. When I grew confidence, I also grew dirty. Giving what these men came to see. “Have all my money!”

One man shouted, another had exclaimed, “I want you to ride my face, please! Be my dirty little girl!” I smiled politely at these men, knowing full well they probably have wives at home, most of them having a ring on their marriage finger. Bastards.

As I danced around the pole, I let my hips do the work, shaking them around in a sexy way. Left to right, innocently dancing. Mouthing the lyrics, shutting my eyes ever so slightly. With my back to the pole now, I had slid down it, mouthing the lyrics, “I’m all alone and it’s you that I want!”

Motioning this handsome blue eyed boy to me with my fingers, in a ‘come here’ type of way. Hoping to entice him, or just playfully tease him. He was leaning against the bar, eyes glued to me. I’ve felt his eyes on me the whole dance. He had this dark smirk on him, looking me up and down with these hungry eyes. Turning his full body towards me now. He mouthed, “Oh yeah?”

In return, I sent an innocent wink his way, with a smile this time. Getting on my feet and swinging around the pole one last time before subtly dropping down, against the cold metal, arching my back as I pushed my hips towards the pole, not letting go. The lights going dark once again as my time came to an end.

I blew the crowd a kiss as I took one last glance toward the bar, the man that had captivated my full attention could not be seen. My heart sank a little as I turned on my heel, forming a strut down the walk as the curtains closed behind me, the money being collected as I had left the stage that I had now earned.

“Eeek! Y/N! You did so good! How am I supposed to follow that performance up?!” Brittney squealed, high fiving me.

“You’ll do even better than me, I’m sure of it!” Giving her praise, she was the one thing that got me through this place, she deserved more confidence. “ I’m gonna take a walk on the floor, gonna get a drink! Go get ‘em tiger!”

As much as I was there for my girl, I desperately wanted to see if this man had stuck around.

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Venturing onto the men-riddled floor, I tried to keep my composure. This was when my nerves got the better of me, you’re looked at as a piece of meat when you’re of the floor. Up on the stage, you feel as though everyone’s below you, literally. You’re on top, nobody can touch you up there.

I found myself at the bar, just asking for a lemonade to pass the time, a kind, older woman had served me. She was one of the nicer workers that resided here, “Would you like a cherry in there too, Y/N?”

“You know me.” I softly said, giving her a thankful smile. Some saw me as the baby here and some saw me as the queen. It was a weird place to be, I just appreciated the kind ones. She gave me a wink and went on her way to make me a the simple concoction.

“Y/N. What a name. Pretty, too.” A deep, husky voice sounded from next to me, as I felt his eyes burn into the side of my head. I turned, slowly looking up at him, his tall, dark frame leaning down on me. I gulped. Those familiar blue eyes keeping ahold of my attention, his warm smile sounding, “Hey, I’m Colby.” He took my hand and kissed it gently.

“Y/N. Hey.” I shyly ushered out in one whole breathe, as I glanced down, my hair falling infront of my face. He was gorgeous, a true beauty. I must be lucky for someone like him to be able to approach me.

“Yeah, I know” He chuckled. I blushed as he heard the lady behind the bar already address that. Don’t screw up now girl! “Is that your real name? I know ladies like to have a disguise around here.”

He observantly mentioned, smirking too. I was at a loss for words, Colby was so captivating, I was lost in his celestial, lapis eyes. His chestnut hair cascading infront of his eyes ever so slightly. “It is, does that disappoint you?”

I decided to be honest, maybe he’d find that attractive in its self. After all, he was honest with me. “What? God no, I think you’re stunning, and your names just the cherry on top!”

Colby ironically exclaimed, as my drink was placed infront of me. The lady looked at both me and him and smiled, raising her eyebrows at me. He glanced at my drink, taking the cherry. Swivelling it in his grip, he glanced at me. I looked up at him with my doe eyes, as he popped it in my mouth, plucking the stem from the cherry itself. “Good girl.”

My heart started to race as he reached his hand out, ushering me closer. As I went to take his hand, a loud roguish man approached me, grabbing me by waist, immediately yelling in my face, “Are you gonna dance for me or what? Huh?”

The alcohol definitely playing its part, I glanced to security, they hadn’t seen the commotion yet and my heart was jumping out of its chest. He towered over me demanding, impatiently waiting for an answer. “Sir, please don’t speak to me like tha-“

“I can speak to you how the FUCK I want, don’t you dare think for a second that your better than me or anyone’s gonna save your pretty little ass, you do what I tell you-“ a huge thud landed as I was swiftly pushed back, the man in front of me collapsing to the ground. Colby had lunged at the drunken man. Angered, he had hit him square in the jaw, a tooth rolling around on the floor. A splash of blood on already red heel.

My breath hitched in my throat, still no security in sight, the music too loud for anyone to really give a shit. Colby had picked this man up by his shift, as though he weighed of nothing, he hissed in his face, “Beat it.”

The man was dropped to his feet and quickly scurried away, as if he saw death itself. I watched as he was out of site, a warm touch against my chin snapped me out of the trance I was in. Startled. “Are you okay, beautiful?”

Gazing into his eyes, hard to look away, I stuttered out, “I-uh, yeah. Thank you.” I placed my hand on his chest trying to gain my breath back, it all happened so fast, a boldness took over me, the sheer sign of strength made so effortlessly was almost overwhelming, “Wanna get out of here?”

I felt his heartbeat pick up every so slightly as he huskily said, “Lead the way, Y/N.”

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Of all places, I lead him to one of the private booths, the expensive, champagne riddled rooms. I shut the curtains to the room, letting staff know that it was occupied. The curved couch was a sparkly red, that had a pole in the middle as well as a love seat. The circular table had three bottles of champagne in a bucket of ice, recently been placed there. Lights had become dim since I’d closed the curtains and there were little sources of light emerging from under both seats. Colby had poured a drink for me and himself, keeping them set down on the table, he approached me with a smirk on his face, “What brings us here then beautiful?”

“I wanted to thank you back there, you were so brave.” Placing my hand on his chest once again, ever so slightly pushing him backwards, towards the curved seat, trailing my hand downwards. Batting my eyelashes at him with my big doe like eyes, I pouted, “So strong.”

His legs hit the textured couch, falling back on, eyes never straying from mine once. I began to crawl on top of him, in a straddle position, feeling himself twitch underneath me, “I-That was nothing back there, a beautiful girl like you shouldn’t have to take that shit.”

He insisted while taking in my body, my looks. Colbys hands began to travel up and down my lacy, deep red piece, taking it all in, breathing a little heavier than before. Muttering, he shifted a little from under me, looking back up at my eyes, “Fuck.”

Smirking slightly, I leant forward, giving him an eyeful of my cleavage, whispering, “I’ll make you feel good, Colby.” His breath began to hitch as I began to kiss up his jaw, his eyes darkened as he lifted my face, gazing into my eyes. His plump lips were begging to meet mine, he took a quick glance at my lips and mumbled hastily, “You’re making me crazy, beautiful.”

And with that he crashed his whiskey stained lips into my cherry tasted ones. Hunger was taking over and I grew to want him so badly. His great hands found their way to my back, travelling down and cupping me, grabbing me ever so slightly but enough for me to moan into his mouth. He seemed to like that. Swiftly, he took my laced bra off with one quick motion, making me gasp.

My hands got the better of me and I started unbuttoning his shirt, almost frustrated that it wasn’t coming undone quick enough. He pulled away, picking me up, his hands under me, straddling his waist now, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

The blue eyed boy had laid us down, I was now laying on the love seat, he towered over me, looking me up and down, ready to feast. Colby stood there, with his shirt unbuttoned, his abs glistening from the sweat we had just created. He looked godly in this moment. He quickly took off his jeans, his member almost throbbing to be let out. I gulped as he looked bigger than anything I’d ever seen.

He lowered himself down, and kissed me passionately, still hungry for more. My hands roamed freely, helping him take off his shirt completely. With this motion I quickly flipped us, wanting to be on top of him. I begged, “Let me please you, Colby.”

Impressed at my strength, Colby had stifled a moan as I started to leave hungry kisses down his chest, until I got to his boxer line. I looked up at him through my lashes, as he nodded with approval, removing the clothing. His thick member throbbing. I gulped, taking in his size, he was fucking huge.

“Fuck.” I muttered as I teased him, licking up his shaft, keeping eye contact with him as he propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look. I wrapped my hand around his member, kissing the tip.

I began to take him in my mouth, bobbing my head up and down and sucking slightly, wanting him to feel euphoric. His sweet moans filled my ears, making me work harder for him. Wanting to make him feel better than ever. “You’re such a good girl, Y/N.”

Seeing his eyes roll back as his shaft touched the back of my throat was enough to make me moan, knowing I was doing a good job. I was a good girl. His good girl. Colby’s hand traveled to the back of my head, grabbing my hair slightly bobbing my head. It felt so good. “You like that baby girl?”

I nodded quickly, not wanting to disappoint, all of a sudden feeling really submissive. As I carried on sucking it for a little longer, Colby pulled my hair back and away from him gently making me look up at him, he muttered, “C’mere baby.”

I did as he asked, waiting for what was to come. Colby got on top of me, his chain dangling infront of my face, his arms looking as muscular as ever as he towered over me, I felt completely under his spell and I was more than ready for what he was about to do to me.

He caressed my breasts, with both hands as I started to breath heavier, trying to keep it together. His eyes flickering towards mine and my bare chest, he muttered sweet nothings as he latched onto them, kissing them. Sucking them. I couldn’t help but moan at the way his tongue moved against my body, “Colby!”

“Shh, baby. You sound so fucking good, but we can’t get in trouble now, can we?” He muttered against my breasts, knowing full well we’d get in big trouble as clients weren’t supposed to be touchy let alone all over each other. He was far from being a client, but I would definitely get kicked out immediately for this behaviour. I groaned out of annoyance, frustrated with pleasure. He began to bite them ever so gently, putting my hand over my mouth to shuffle my moans. Colby had made him way down to my panties, asking for approval, granting him access. He swiftly took them off with ease, “Fuck you’re so perfect.”

“Are you ready baby?” He huskily marvelled, admiring the mess he had made me into, touching himself. His hair stuck to his forehead a little, his muscles glistening all over, his tattoos made his aura dark and mysterious but he seemed like a complete utter dream. In response, all I could manage was a swift nod, with impatient, hungry eyes.

He lined his huge member up with my already wet folds, awaiting the small pain that came with it. He came down closer to me, kissing me roughly and pushing himself into me at the same time, causing me to melt into his mouth, both moaning loudly. My hands traveled up to his hair, getting tangled in his locks. His motions were euphoric and heavenly, making my back arch with every move. Colby moaned roughly into my neck, kissing it and nipping at the skin with his teeth, leaving slight bruises as he trailed.

“Fuck, you feel so good Y/N.” My nails scraped along down his back, marking him as equally as he did me. He couldn’t keep back his moans as they sounded through my body. Unwinding. As is pace quickened, my orgasm started to grow nearer. I couldn’t hold it any longer, he was making me feel pleasure like I’ve never felt it before, “Colby, I’m so close!”

“Fuck baby, don’t come until I tell you too. I know you’re a good girl. My good, good girl.” He quickened his pace and became a little rougher with his thrusts, making me into a moaning mess. He couldn’t bring himself to tell me to be quiet anymore, he loved the way he was making me feel. He moved so he could put my legs over his shoulders, making my climax come quicker, “Colby, please!”

“Oh baby, I’m gonna come too.” He muffled tensely, his thrusts getting sloppier, I looked at him with pleading eyes, muttering and begging, Colby looked at me with pleading eyes, “Come for me beautiful.”

With that, I had unleashed my orgasm, coming undone at his command, moaning his name as I rode out my high. I started toying with my breasts to get him closer to his climax, wanting nothing more but the warm fill, “Colby, please come. Please!”

Not even a moment later he came undone too, filling me up with his come. We were both messes, moaning into each other as he collapsed on top of me, pecking my neck as he collected himself. He rolled over to the next of me, putting his arm underneath his head and one out for me to lay on. We were both panting like sick dogs. I propped myself up on my elbow, my head resting against my palm.

“You know, I’ve never seen you in here before.” I muttered, playing with a strand of my hair. I pondered it, because he was a beautiful man, a young man. A man that didn’t suit these kind of places.

“I thought you’d ask, it’s a good friend of mines birthday and we all thought it would be a good surprise to bring him here.” Colby chuckled, looking into my eyes. He reached out for my hand and placed it on his chest, his heart still erratic. “You are beautiful though, Y/N. I meant what I said.”

“Thank you. You’re not too bad yourself.” I giggled, him faking a hurt expression, giving me a pearly white smile, something that made me melt on the spot. His crinkles next to his eyes matching perfectly with his happy looks.

“A pretty girl like you, how’d you end up here?” He looked at me sincerely, wanting to know me a little better. I didn’t think he’d ask, making me feel slightly embarrassed that I have money issues.

“Oh it’s nothing, just- university won’t pay itself, you see.” I said with honesty. glancing down at my hands down, playing with them.

“University? That’s incredible, I can’t imagine how expensive that must be, I guess I can understand.” I looked up at him, he seemed genuine and I melted into his gaze, I gave him a small smile. Appreciating his kind words. Mouthing a ‘thank you’.

“You know,” propping himself up to really look at me this time, grabbing the two glasses of champagne on the table. Handing one to me, “I would really like to take you out, get you away from here eventually.”

“I would really love that.” I blushed, him smirking in return.

“It wouldn’t be classed as inappropriate to maybe cheers to this? A new beginning, potentially?” Him raising a glass.

I giggled, feeling a sense of happiness and fulfilment. Cuddled up with a man you feel like you’ve known forever, chatting, getting to know each other and just sealed a date with, raising a toast to a new beginning. “Cheers.”

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

a/n- omg I had no plan for this just a thought, one thing led to another and BOOM. hope you enjoyed lol I never know how to wrap up endings

stay sweet x

[maybankswhore]

hey can you write what being in a love triangle with rafe and jj would be like

i think about this on the daily fr.

being in a love triangle with two boys who couldn’t be more different would be actually sick.

jj was the kind one. the one who should be the obvious choice.

he’d hold you when you cried. whisper sweet nothings in your ear when you’d get too drunk at a boneyard party and hold your hair up.

he’d try and be understanding.

“i know this is a fucked up situation and i’m sorry you’re in it. i’m just not sorry that i fell in love with you.”

jj would always be there.

rafe on the other hand , is the guy that you know you shouldn’t want.

he’s the “bad guy.”

raging anger issues , addicted to drugs and always giving you the up and down.

one minute he’d raging about how obsessed with you he is.

the next minute he’s spitting insults at you because you’re stuck between him and the guy hates the most— jj maybank.

“i’m the obvious fucking choice , okay? i know he doesn’t make you feel half as good as i do.”

a part of you hated rafe but the other part clung on to the rare and tender moments.

“look i’m–i’m sorry , okay? i’m fucked up , alright? i’m always gonna be. but i love you. i love you and that says alot because i didn’t even think i was even fucking capable of it.”

jj knows that what you and rafe have is special. but he also knows that your relationship with himself is just as good and he won’t give up on you.

he doesn’t stop trying to prove that he’s the one you should pick.

and in the end , only one of them ends up heartbroken and the others expense.

if you choose jj — rafe flies off the fucking deep end.

he’s actually shocked that you’d choose jj over him because he thought that despite everything , what the two of you had was real.

he goes through the stages very slowly and denial lasts for like a year before he even begins to grieve.

if you choose rafe — jj’s actually in shambles.

he’s heartbroken.

he tries his best to be happy for you , though , because as much as he loves you he wants you to be happy.

he just wishes it could’ve been him.

[bloodweep]

HIHI! DO YOU WRITE FLUFF? YOURE LIKE ONE OF MY FAVORITE WRITERS ON TUMBLR SO I WANTED TO ASK🤭 IF YOU DO, I WAS JUST THINKING ABT BROZONE (OR JUST JD) WITH A READER WHO ALSO MAKES MUSIC? YOU CAN HAVE THE HCS TURN OUT HOWEVER YOU WANT I JUST HAD THAT GENERAL IDEA🙏🏽🙏🏽

OKFG PLEASE IM NOT THAT GOOD

And yes I do 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 it makes me so happy and giggly like the bitch I am jfjfhfhfhfh

YOU KNOW MY HEART IS GONNA GO TO JD FIRST I WANT HIM IN EVERY WAY I CAN

━━━━━━━ ✦❘༻༺❘✦ ━━━━━━━

JOHN DORY:

‗ ❍ I love him so much but I just know he would be a bit of an asshole at first, far better than before, don’t get me wrong! But he will still ask what you’re going and provide “tips” to make it better, but will be quickly silenced if you glared at him

‗ ❍ he is literally the definition of “oh I hate that man, I hate that man! But oh cara mia how I love him”

‗ ❍ after a while he would be silent and just listen to you, he would highly enjoy your music btw

‗ ❍ would get stuck in his head constantly where he is humming it wherever he is, bobbing his head to the beat

‗ ❍ would so just hold you close, arm around your shoulders watching you write away, nuzzling into your hair

‗ ❍ would beg to have a duet with you, no lie, will literally beg on all fours to have one

‗ ❍ UGH ITS STUPID BUT HE WOULD SO GRAB TOU AROUNF THE HIPS AND PULL YOU ALONG THE ROOM TO DANCE

‗ ❍ he would hold you so tight and kiss along your head while he sways with you and sings

━━━━━━━ ✦❘༻༺❘✦ ━━━━━━━

Bruce:

‗ ❍ he would be so fun to write songs with, so attentive, leaned back and just listening

‗ ❍ wouldn’t say anything until you were finished and asked for tips

‗ ❍ “play it again” he would say just so he can hear your voice again and listen to the melody

‗ ❍ he would do this a few times before you caught on and playfully punched his knee

‗ ❍ he would just laugh and shake his head “nothing needs to be changed it’s wonderful ”

‗ ❍ he would so sing the songs you make while surfing too

‗ ❍ he’s your number one biggest fan, will fight anyone to get that position

‗ ❍ he will be the loudest person in the audience and dancing in the crowd

‗ ❍ sings it for his kids any song you create

━━━━━━━ ✦❘༻༺❘✦ ━━━━━━━

Clay:

‗ ❍ he’s such a little nerd, would be vibing to anything so hard

‗ ❍ he will fight whoever even if it’s his own brothers to be the number one fan

‗ ❍ he would so teach you how to dance to whatever you’re writing

‗ ❍ his hands holding your hips to help you move better

‗ ❍ begs to hear you sing all the time because he likes it so so much

‗ ❍ makes up all your choreography for you, and isn’t upset if you desire to change it

‗ ❍ he would so so beg to dance with you on stage at least once (he’s a lair all the time he wants to dance with you forever)

━━━━━━━ ✦❘༻༺❘✦ ━━━━━━━

Floyd:

‗ ❍ He would be so happy to see you write and create music

‗ ❍ he would relax back and listen with such a peaceful smile on his face

‗ ❍ he would so love to do duets with you too

‗ ❍ they would be so soft and gentle; you’re very mindful of what happened to him and don’t want to push him to hurt himself - even if he says he’s fine and can handle whatever

‗ ❍ holds your hands while you practice with him, showing you his full attention and encouraging you whenever you stumble or feel like you can’t get something right

‗ ❍ UGH his smile will be so fucking soft and gentle as he looks at you

‗ ❍ when he watches you from the crowd he is just smiling and dancing slightly the whole time

‗ ❍ UGH tells you how proud he is of you all the time, and you deserve all the fans and happiness

‗ ❍ if he ever preforms with his brothers he definitely invites you in and puts you right next to him - holding your hand tightly the whole time

━━━━━━━ ✦❘༻༺❘✦ ━━━━━━━

‗ ❍ GOSH that stupid look he gives when he really loves someone??? That look the whole time

‗ ❍ fully understands if you don’t feel comfortable singing with him or in front of him just yet

‗ ❍ or even if you just want to do it on stage only

‗ ❍ if you feel self conscious about a song he will preform it with you and his brothers so you feel better

‗ ❍ never ever tells you to change it because there’s no such thing as “perfect” and a song is what is felt from within - things no such thing to be perfect

‗ ❍ every time you do sing in front of him he will drop everything he’s doing and listening to you

‗ ❍ he’s so giddy to hear you sing but doesn’t go over the top to stress you out

━━━━━━━ ✦❘༻༺❘✦ ━━━━━━━

Im sorry it’s so short I struggle with sfw for some reason because fluff makes me so giddy and excited and I feel gushy

[ventismacchiato]

O4 stuck with you — screaming and fighting !

scaramouche x gender neutral reader

You and Scaramouche were dragged backstage and away from prying eyes, faces flushed and chests rising as the adrenaline from the argument on stage had yet to wear off. The dressing room was still, only filled with you both throwing insults at one another. The rest of your group members shared sheepish looks with one another, deciding to let you both get it out of your system.

As soon as the door was tightly shut you whirled around to face Scara.

“You just always have to get the last word, don’t you?” you asked, stepping closer to him.

“You’re the one who started yelling at me, I was just defending myself,” Scaramouche replied, his tone equally heated, but his posture was much more composed than you. 

“You’re the one who told me to give up,” you accused. 

“Yeah, give up the trophy so I could hold it,” Scara sighed.

“Yeah, as if you deserve to hold it.”

“Now that you mention it, I do deserve it more than you.” 

“You don’t know what it’s like to actually work for something,” you glared, voice laced with contempt, “You probably get everything handed to you by your mom.”

He glanced away, abruptly uncomfortable. “You shouldn’t talk. Your voice is even more unpleasant when you’re whining.” 

Naturally, you kept talking

“That’s the only reason you’re even here with the rest of us,” you continued, letting your jealousy cloud your senses, “I can’t be the only one who thinks that.”

Scaramouche’s face hardened. He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Whatever," he muttered, shoving his way past you to leave the dressing room before turning around one last time.

“Nobody even knew she was my mother until I became a trainee. I used a different name on the application forms. But if hanging onto that little fact makes you feel better about being so pathetic then be my fucking guest.” 

And with that he slammed the door behind him.

You hated the way he could make you inexplicably self-conscious. It used to be a foreign sensation, one left behind long ago in insecure adolescence.

You stood there, breathing heavily, as the door swung shut. The room was silent, everyone stunned by the intensity of the confrontation.

Lumine stepped up and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, slowly guiding you outside to cool off. 

“We’re also gonna head back,” Aether awkwardly laughed, grabbing Childe and Kazuha by their collars and dragging them out.

“So, that just happened.”

“Shut up, Venti.”

“We really need to broaden your vocabulary, Y/n. Your insults could be better.”

“You too, Fischl! Zip it!”

stuck with you!

masterlist — prev | next

begging u guys to let me use ur usernames as fans in this au pls let me make u a crazy stantwt user xx but pls comment on the masterlist so i see it

also everyone saying scara keeps eating yn up w insults is sending me 😭😭

title from the way i loved you by ts it suits scarayn so well

synopsis — after the disaster that was the live award show, where you and scaramouche got into an argument on stage after both of your groups got a tie for top artists, your guys' PR teams have been in shambles trying to scrape up your mess. that's when the idea to send you both off with some other idols to a remote location for a survival dating show to mend your public image comes up. before you know it your bags are packed and you’re on a plane to a remote island. the only obligation is you need to end up with scaramouche at the end of the show, whether you end up liking him or not doesn’t matter to your managers as long as the show’s ratings stay high. whatever you do in between to get there is up to you!

notes — 👍 leave me comments and asks instead of begging for updates pleek i need motivation to post more

taglist — @na1lea @cindywasneverhere @lunavixia @aestherin @mlaakai @camvrin @retiredmommylover @iheartpieck @jangyung @cartierfiles @loveariel @silly-ez @mochipls @pomeiu @chuuismylife @flowerypesky @creammpuff @justanothertiredreader @boxdisappeared @kissmiere @kissingkzuha @webbywill @kazusboyfriend @s3xpistolss @pjsucks @bunns-wonderland @lordbugs @localgirlywithnolife @kosumos @danfelions @featuredtofu @pinxeajin @herebyaccident0 @haeunoo @scaradooche @pglt19 @chemiru @childesbabygirl @simonisferal @shutingstar @vxcmx @domimiki @ttalgi @esuz @tokkishouse @kitsuvil @scarasmood @ihearttori @nomurahayami @starringyau @androxphobic

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Welcome Home

Pairing: Dylan O'Brien x Reader (Female) Synopsis: Traveling. Any annoying but necessary part of any actors job for the non-traveling party. But the welcome homes? They are oh so fucking sweet. Tags: it's filth with some cute plot, shower sex, kisses, more banter than is reasonable in polite society Rating: Explicit (obviously) Author’s Note: Y'all listen. I know. Okay. It's been a while, and to be honest? I started this in fucking January, but hey. It's here now, right? We're all chill? No one's upset? Good. LOVE YOU!

He’d been away for days, but it felt like weeks. Your feed has been covered in photos of him. The algorithms have you pretty much figured out. You’d been keeping up with his interviews, watching clips of his adorably awkward award acceptance speech. It wasn’t a surprise award, but it didn’t matter that he was prepared for it. He was incapable of being acknowledged for his achievements without turning into the equivalent of a turtle hiding in its shell. You’d have reached out to hold his hand and ground him if you could, but you’d been here. Alone. Missing him. But all that was soon to change.

He was on his way home. Annoyingly, his flight had been delayed, but as you stared up at the JFK arrivals board and it read: ‘Arrived’, you couldn’t help the bubbling up of excitement and giddy nervousness. It seemed like Tony was picking up on it as well because he stood against your leg, pawing at your thigh until you picked him up. He’d been missing his dad and had taken more comfort in your presence since he’d left. 

Your ears perked when the announcement that the baggage from his flight was about to begin its rounds through the baggage claim area. Your phone vibrated in the thigh pocket of your leggings. You gave Tony a quick squeeze before setting him back on the floor and taking your phone out. You smiled at the preview of the text you’d just received before you swiped to see the rest. 

‘Your fine ass better be waiting for me down there.’ 

You smirked before typing out a teasing reply. 

‘Got stuck in traffic a few times but I’m here. I hate Newark btw.’ 

You watched the dots appear and couldn’t help the audible laugh that escaped when you read his next message. 

‘Newark!?’ 

You interrupted him with a quick ‘I’m joking!!!’ before you could see what he was typing next. Then after a brief pause, the dots reappeared before his reprimand. 

‘You know you’re this close to the find-out stage of fuckin around?’ 

‘Oh? What if that’s exactly what I want?’ 

‘👀’

‘Not that I want to rush through the fuckin around part 😏’  

“I’ll be taking my sweet fucking time…don’t worry.”

You startled at his audible reply and your eyes shot up from your phone and met his as Tony pulled at the leash in your hand to reach him. He looked a bit tired but happy. His smile was wide across his stubbled face, quirking up at the corner when you smiled back. 

“Hey buddy!” he said, handing you his pillow before bending down to scoop Tony up into his arms. “I missed you!” he swooned in the adorable baby voice he reserved for his furry son. “Did you miss me too?” He rubbed Tony’s head and then his tummy. “Such a good boy!” 

You smiled at the two of them, pulling Tony’s leash from your wrist and handing it to Dylan. Tony would be stuck to him like glue now. 

“Hey, baby,” he said softly before he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your lips. One just long enough to make you the tiniest bit dizzy and eager for more. 

You blinked away distracting thoughts. “Do you have much luggage?” 

Dylan shook his head. “Just this,” he said pointing at his backpack, “and one bag on the turnstiles.” 

“Should be over there, they just announced it,” you said, taking a few steps toward the baggage claim area.

“Nice!” he said, hiking Tony up onto his shoulder a bit before he followed after you. 

His bag passed in front of him and he hefted it off the belt and popped out the handle and you took it from him so he could focus on the excited ball of fur in his arms. You set his pillow on it and wheeled it behind you toward the cab that was waiting out front. As much as you hated early morning airport runs, you were glad his 4 AM delayed arrival made the whole airport experience a lot smoother. Fewer people. Less traffic. You’d been able to get in and out without so much as a sideways glance from anyone else. 

“Hey you,” he said as he slumped in the seat next to you, Tony taking up the little bit of space between you. 

“Hey,” you said, smiling back at him. 

It was just after 5 AM and you’d only gotten a couple hours of sleep. Originally, he was supposed to have gotten in at midnight and had been scheduled to arrive at Newark, but his flight had been canceled. When he called you to let you know, you were already getting ready to catch the Uber you’d called to take you to the airport. You had a habit of being too punctual. But that also meant that you had a hard time settling and only managed a short nap before you got up to head to JFK. You were a bit tired, but feeling his warmth next to you for the first time in a while was enough of a comfort to fight off the droop of your sleepy eyes. You wanted to see his smile, the upturned tip of his nose, the lopsided smile he sported as he pet Tony. Sleep could wait. 

The drive back to the loft was rather uneventful. Traffic was light, you weren’t sure you’d ever made it the Carey Tunnel faster than you just had. When you hopped out of the car, Dylan gathered his bags from the back of the car and you headed up to the apartment. Home. It was always a comfortable place, but it was warmer when he was in it.

“Smells nice in here…” he said with a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment as his shoulders sagged in relaxation. “I missed it.” 

“And I missed you.” You stepped into his space and wrapped your arms around his waist and he quickly pulled you to his chest, looping his arms over your shoulders and pressing a kiss into your hair. 

“You did, huh?” he chuckled, the heat of his exhaled breath warming your skin. 

“Mhm…” you hummed, laying your cheek against his chest. The loft was dimly lit by a single lamp near the sofa in the living room and the streetlights that filtered in through the large windows. It added to the comfort you felt in his arms. 

“I missed you more,” he whispered.

“Impossible.” 

He sighed out a long breath, holding you tight to his chest before he pulled back, his hands clasped around your waist, eyes locked to yours. The warm, honey-brown hue of them sent a shiver down your spine, of course, it didn’t help that he’d begun to work his hands under the hem of your shirt, his fingertips pressing just a little more firmly into the bare skin covering your ribs when he leaned down to kiss you. 

His lips were insistent, the kiss at the airport clearly not satiating the need that had built during your time apart. It was a comforting reminder that his infatuation with you must be at least somewhat comparable to your own. 

You moaned when his lips wandered along your jaw and latched to your throat just below your ear. Not to be outdone and wanting a little audible thrill of your own, you were satisfied at the deep groan that emanated from the back of his throat when one of your roaming hands slipped down between your bodies to graze across the front of his thigh until it was cupping him through his sweatpants. 

“Definitely missed that,” he breathed out across your collarbone before pushing your hair back and sliding the collar of your shirt aside to access more of your skin. 

You laughed softly before it morphed into a half-whispered moan of his name when his teeth grazed along the sensitive skin above your breast. “Fuck…” you breathed, squeezing your hand around him eliciting an appreciative grumble from him that you felt vibrate the aching bit wet skin he’d been sucking on your chest. 

When you released your grip to slip your hand behind the waistband of his sweats, he grabbed your wrist. “Not yet…” he chuckled when he pulled back to see you scowling at him. “Don’t worry,” he said, smiling at you, brushing an errant hair back from the place where it hung in your eyes, “I’m gonna make you scream…” 

You swallowed thickly. 

“I’d just rather not reek like a man who’s known only seat 23A for 10 hours when I do it.” 

You chuckled softly. “Well…” you smiled back before reaching both hands around behind him, “then you better get this,” you squeezed his ass, “fine thing in the shower then.” You gave him a gentle spank. 

He laughed and pressed a kiss into your hair. “Thirsty little monster,” he said, running his hand down your arm. “Join me?” he said, pleading gaze meeting yours. 

You nodded and he took your hand, lacing your fingers together and leading you through the apartment toward the bathroom. The gentle squeeze of his hand in yours sent a satisfying ripple of warmth through your body. Just as you’d made it through the door to the bathroom, you tugged on his hand and swung his body to pin him against the counter of the vanity. 

He let out a soft huff at the gentle impact and smiled down at you as you grabbed at the hem of his shirt and yanked it roughly up over his body. His bare chest heaved as your eyes roved over him, your hands following your gaze across his pecs, through the soft hair, down his abs, settling on the waistband of his sweats before you began to crouch in front of him as you slid them down his thighs to pool at his feet. 

You looked at him from between his thighs and watched as his brown eyes turned near-black, crouching there longer than was necessary to achieve the task, fluttering your lashes at him.

“Fucking tease…” he muttered under his breath before he hauled you up in front of him and stripped your top off, tossing it across the room before he latched onto your throat and bit down. 

While you writhed in his arms, his hands warmed up your back until his fingers worked open the clasp of your bra. He slipped his fingers under the straps and slid them free of your shoulders and let the garment fall to the floor. 

“Mmm…” he mused, looking down at your chest before he leaned forward and captured your lower lip between his teeth and pulled it back slightly before releasing it to kiss down the column of your throat. He cupped you breast and brought his lips to the peak and flattened his tongue in a wide sweep before sealing his lips to suck your nipple until it was taut and pebbled.

“Dylan…” you groaned, your hands tangling into his hair.

He held you against his body and swapped your positions until your lower back was pressed against the vanity. He nipped at your chest before he finally pulled back and lifted you to sit on the counter in front of him. He quickly unbuttoned your jeans and pulled them from you, throwing them into a heap with the rest of your discarded clothing. Then he slotted himself between your thighs. “Shower’s right there…” he titled his head in its direction, “and yet here we are…” he smiled, his fingertips trailing down from your arms, along your ribs and waist until they teased at the elastic of the last piece of clothing you were left wearing.  

“Here we are…” you repeated, looking down your body at his hand as it slipped into your underwear. You fell forward into his chest when you felt his teasing, barely there touch where you were now aching to feel it. Your sharp intake of breath didn’t go unnoticed.

He leaned in and grinned against the skin of your throat before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the tendon running the length of it. “Something wrong?” he teased, still not touching you the way you wished he would. 

“Please…” you whispered. 

The little amused noise he made only frustrated you more, because Instead of giving in to your need, he hooked his fingers around the band of your underwear and stepped back from you to slide them free from your legs. He twirled them around his long index finger before letting them slip out of his hands to the floor. His eyes roamed over you, exposed to him now, perched on the counter. “Fucking perfect…” he breathed, giving his head a slight shake.

You flushed under his attentive gaze, your own eyes catching on the obvious sign of his own interest tenting the front of his boxer briefs. “Talkin’ about yourself?” you finally managed. 

He smiled and shook his head. 

“You should be…” you sighed, “but you could stand to be just a bit more naked…” you pointed to his underwear. 

He laughed. “Fair,” he said before turning around to turn on the shower. He looked back at you, smirking as he hooked his thumbs in the band of his boxers. When he slid them down his thighs the need you felt for him was almost unbearable. He held out a hand to help you down. “Time to get you wet,” he said with a smirk. 

“Too late.” 

His brows shot up his forehead. “Fuck… me…” he muttered

You stepped past him, your hands gliding over his naked torso, and into the shower. “That’s the plan.” 

He followed after and closed the door, the glass quickly began to fog with the steam as you stood under the spray of the faucet. Even though you knew the water was hot, it almost felt cool on your heated skin. Dylan watched you as you ran your hands over your body before he reached out, gripping your hips. He shoved you back against the wall and his lips crashed into yours. 

You reached up clasped around his neck, your hands tangling into the wet strands of his hair, deepening the kiss and tasting the faint hint of mint on his tongue. His teeth grazed over your bottom lip, pulling it taut before he kissed along your jawline. 

He muttered something unintelligible under his breath against your throat.

“Soap’s over there,” you sighed, jutting your chin to the shelf in the corner. 

“Right… showering…” his teasing mouth paused and he pulled back from you. “You’re so fucking distracting…” he groaned, his grip on your hips shifting to your ass before he squeezed it in both of his palms. 

You grinned and wet your lower lip with your tongue. 

“Not helping.”

You laughed before you pushed him away enough to grab the body wash from the shelf and squeeze it onto his loofa. “Lemme help then,” you said, gesturing for him to turn around in front of you, the water now striking him in the chest. 

He didn’t protest, and quickly spun around as you took a small step closer, so your wet body was pressed briefly against him before you began to scrub his shoulders and upper back. 

“Mmm…” he hummed, rolling his neck. 

You tickled him enough to raise his arms so you could wash them both thoroughly. You smiled watching him noticeably relax his shoulders. You washed down his back, sliding the loofa down to the dips in his low back and over his perfect ass. 

“Taking your time back there…” he chuckled. 

“Stop having such a nice ass and maybe I’d make quicker work of it.” 

He shook a bit with a contained laugh. “Noted.” 

You finally relented, taking one last look at his soapy cheeks before you reached around to scrub his chest and stomach, not spending too much time before reaching down and squeezing the loofa at his belly button and letting the soap begin to run down his body. Your free hand followed after it until it was teasing at the coarse hair, brushing just where you knew he was dying for you to touch him. 

“Relentless fucking tease–” 

You cut off his complaint by wrapping your hand around his sudsy length and pumping him just once. “You were saying?” you breathed against his back before you kissed his shoulder blade before you pumped him again. 

He groaned, his head falling forward. “I’ll shut up… just don’t fucking stop.” 

You beamed with pride. It wasn’t like he never begged, but it was far less common than your own pleadings that more frequently bounced off the walls of this room. You rewarded its rarity by picking up the pace with your hand, pinning him against you with the other hand pressing against the front of his thigh, the loofa long forgotten at his feet. 

He stuttered forward, one hand coming up to hold his weight against the tiled wall the other grasping gently at your wrist, not stopping you, but guiding your hand. “Fuck,” he cursed, the last consonant of it coming out shuddered and low.

You were growing more and more impatient with each second. The ache between your thighs was forcing you to squeeze them together for some kind of relief. You moaned in frustration, your pace faltering. 

Dylan squeezed your wrist and stilled your hand. “Someone sounds needy…” he whispered, pulling your hand free of him and swapping your positions. He pressed you back against the wall and grabbed your body wash from the shelf, squeezing some into his palm. 

You watched him warm his hands together, lathering the gel into foamy suds in those gorgeous fucking hands that you knew he was about to touch you with. 

He smirked at the audible sound of you swallowing before he cupped one of your breasts, his other hand snaking around you, his fingers teasing the dimples of your lower back. He pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, his nose nudging your chin up enough for him to run his tongue up the length of your throat before he kissed you. 

Your heart hammered in your chest, your skin pebbled with goosebumps, your body sang under his touch. You’d missed him. God, how you’d missed him. It should be against the Geneva Convention for him to be away from you this long. Torture, pure and simple. But this? This was as close as you could imagine to what it might feel like to be moments from dying of thirst in a vast desert only to stumble into the cool waters of an oasis.

He slid his hand down your body and, without a hint of teasing or pretense, rubbed your clit with the pads of two fingers. 

“Holy. Sh–!” you cussed, only getting half of it out before it devolved into a strangled moan. 

Dylan nudged at your chin as your head lolled in pleasure, his lips skimming across your skin, breathing out praise as he continued to swirl his fingers over the sensitive bundle of nerves that had you writhing against him. “Missed the way you sound…” he nipped your neck, “the way you feel…” he groped at your chest again with his free hand, “the way you taste…” he kissed you again, his tongue demanding entry into your mouth. 

His talented fingers had you approaching the edge, that warm feeling building up inside you, that pressure that made you feel like you were electrified. “Dyl… please…” you softly begged when he gave you a moment to finally breathe. 

His lips slipped from yours, your noses touching, both of you panting in the same air. Then you whined when you felt his fingers disappear from you. He stepped back into the stream of water and pulled you with him, kissing you everywhere his lips could reach as the hot spray of the shower rinsed you both clean of suds. 

You looped your arms around his neck and he gripped the backs of your thighs, hauling you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist. 

His eyes were wide with the same wonder he somehow still held for you even though he’d had you so many times there was no way to keep count. It made you feel warm and wanted. Desired and beautiful.  

“Could stay in this shower for the rest of my fucking life…” he said as he pinned your back to the wall and bucked up against you, slickening himself in the folds of your body, driving the head of his cock into your already sensitive clit. 

Your eyes rolled back at the contact, your hips rocking forward to meet the roll of his. “We’ll… we’ll get all pruney….” you finally breathed out. 

He laughed against your throat before he kissed, nipped, and sucked what you knew would be an impressive little bruise into your skin. “So be it,” he said, and then he shifted his hips, met your gaze, and slid into you to the hilt. 

The stretch, the fullness, it was almost as shocking now as the first time you’d felt him buried inside you. It was perfection, blissfully indecent perfection. You moaned his name, your fingernails clawing at his shoulders as he began to set a punishing pace, driving up into you hard, rutting his body against yours enough to stimulate you in just the right places, inside and out. 

“Shit!” you swore, letting your head fall back against the tiled wall. 

He fucked into you over and over as you felt yourself edging closer to the brink. You felt your thighs begin to shudder as his pace grew more erratic an unpredictable. 

“So fucking tight…” he groaned before he kissed the valley between your collarbones. 

The strangled need in his voice, the feel of his breath against your skin–all of it coupled with the delicious way the end of his length was pressing into that perfect spot inside you that made you feel like you were losing touch with reality–you were ready. “Fuck, Dyl–” 

He raised one hand to press on your chin enough to force your gaze back to his, the pad of his thumb dragging across your lower lip. 

You moaned and flicked at it with the tip of your tongue. “I’m so close… please!” you begged.

He drove his thumb between your lips and when you sucked it into your mouth, he slipped the hand on your thigh between your legs to rub his finger over your clit just when he drove a final thrust against your g-spot. 

You’d had your fair share of fantastic orgasms at this man’s hands, literally, but this one was up there standing proudly on the podium collecting its medal. It was a rush of pent-up need and desire that washed over you like a crashing tidal wave. Every single cell in your body felt like it was vibrating with pleasure. Your muscles clamped down on him as you felt him join you in his own release. The feel of him spilling into you, the sound of your name falling from his slack lips, making it all so much more intense. It was perfection. Pure and simple. Absolute. Unadulterated. Bliss.

Your chest heaved against his, both of you softly laughing between kisses before you felt him slip free of your body. His hands warmed up your arms before they cupped either side of your neck. 

“I love you so fucking much.” 

You smiled at him, leaning in to run your nose along his throat until your lips were at his ear. “I love you too.” 

He sighed and his lips found yours, but he held back from the kiss long enough to speak. “Hell of a welcome home.” 

[absfawn]

emi baby i have a request if you’re up for it!! but jealous rockstar!abby performing at a late night gig with her band and she notices someone in the audience trying to flirt with you, so during intermission she takes you backstage and marks you up (and more if you’d like) so she can show them who you belong to 🫣

oh oh oh, yes 😼

The lights were dim under her hooded eyes. The sweat trickled down her forehead, sticking to her skin uncomfortably. Her head was lulled back, her heavy breathing echoing through the microphone and into the room while her hair stuck to her face annoyingly. She knew that was something that drove you insane. Seeing her hair all damp, sticking out in different directions and simply looking a little crazy.

Abby could barely hearing anything over the sound of her fingers moving quickly over the cords of her guitar and the screams of everyone in the crowd, but she lifted her head just in time to find you standing in the crowd, swaying and bumping your head to the current tune. One she loved to play for you when it was just you and her, in her trailer, loving on each other. She chuckled breathlessly when you perked up, waving your hand quickly in her direction when your eyes caught her gaze.

There was something she didn’t like though. She didn’t like the closeness of the girl standing beside you. Nor did she like the way she had her hand brushing up your arm, and how close her lips were to your ear. Abby didn’t even know what she was saying, but it had you laughing. Her girl was laughing at something someone else was saying. It had her clenching her jaw tightly, almost messing up the song and strumming the wrong cord with how hard she was gripping the guitar in her hand.

Abby was possessive of you, and she hated how someone was touching you and making you laugh when that should be her causing you to tumble into a fit of giggles, and shivering at a single touch. Always her. Not that girl standing next to you.

Thankfully Abby and her group were able to take an earlier break seeing as they had started earlier than usual tonight. She only had one thing in mind when she stepped off the stage, get you away from that girl as fast as possible without causing a big scene. Sometimes it was difficult because of how big they had become over the past few months of making and releasing music. Finding you and only you was the only thing she wanted. She was quick to ignore every person that screamed, yelled in her face, grabbed her arms, and even went as far as to almost jump on her, as she made her way towards the barrier keeping them, you, and everyone apart. Her jaw clenched again, your smile brightening when you finally spotted her walking towards you.

“Abs! you were so good, even though you are always good. Oh— before i forget, i want you to meet my new friend—”

No time. She didn’t have time to listen to you gush over the new brunette you had just met. She didn’t have time to listen you drabble on about how cute her shoes were, or how you liked her makeup. Instead, she grabbed your hand in her bigger yet clammier ones, cutting you off completely before dragging you, almost causing you to stumble over your own feet at how fast she was walking. “Abby? are you mad at me? have i done something wrong?” You question, furrowing your eyebrows with a pout on your lips even though she couldn’t see you.

Pulling you into her dressing room, you have to hold your hands out onto the couch before you to stop you falling over onto the floor like an idiot. The broad-shouldered stood standing in front of the door, looking at you, chest rising up and down with how heavy she was breathing. Her eyes were almost black the longer she stared at you, sweat still trickling down her temples. “Did you have fun?”

“At your show? i always do. what is this about—”

“Did you have fun when she was touching you?”

Each step you took back, she took one forward and it wasn’t long until she had you backed up against the dressing table, arms either side of your body, and her nose brushing against yours. “Abs, i don’t understand—”

Your words died in your throat the second she pressed her lips to your neck, not kissing, just resting there as you breathed heavily against her. Your fingers curled against the counter, nails bluntly scraping the wood harshly. “Dumb little brain huh, Sweet girl?” She whispers, her voice cracked from screaming and shouting so much tonight. “Thought you would understand by now that that you are mine, and i don’t share what’s mine”

Abby groaned into your neck at the little whimpers you let out as her lips trailed soft yet harsh kisses into your skin. You could barely focus on her words anymore, not when she was kissing you like this, not with how her hands trailed up your exposed legs, digging her nails into your skin the higher she went. It wasn’t until her lips had found that little spot that had you gasping and breathing heavy that Abby bit down a little harsher on your neck, sucking a brand new hickey into your pretty skin, enjoying how you whimpered and wrapped around arms around her body. “Mine yeah?” She almost growled.

“yours! m’yours Abs”

“This is mine too, yeah?”

You hand been so focused on how her lips felt against you that you didn’t even register her hand slipping into your now very soaked panties, fingers sliding between your folds, smirking into your neck as your hips bucked up into her touch. Nodding quickly, you bit down on your lip as she continued to rub circles on your clit.

Her forehead bumped into yours, blue eyes staring into yours, her jaw still clenched tightly, and if you weren’t so fucking turned on, you’d be worried she would break it. “Fuckin’ say it. Say it’s mine”

“It’s yours. i’m yours. Abby please—”

The second the words fell from your lips, she removed her hand from between your thighs and grinned darkly. “Think i have to remind you, hm?” She chuckled, pressing her thumb into the new forming hickey, biting down on her own lip when the action tears a whine from you. “can’t have her or anyone else out there thinking you are theirs for the taking, can i? you are mine, and only mine”

“You only have 15 minutes—”

Gripping your jaw between her fingers before you could finish your sentence, Abby hums softly, pressing the pads against your lips, prying your mouth open where you eagerly took them in, groaning as you look up at her with such an innocent look as you sucked slowly.

“If you think this is the only time i’m going to remind you of who you belong to tonight, then you really are dumb baby. When we get home, i’m going to fuck you until my name is the only one you will remember”