#but I remember when I was young that getting married looked so good

[aebi12]

"Resentment" - Chapter 21 [AemondxRhaena]

Summary

He is the cause of her sufferings. He took her dragon, her betrothed, and her father. Now, he will also take away her future by having to marry him.

With so much history and bad blood between Rhaena and Aemond, their forced union has everything to fail, except that the proximity will make them discover that perhaps they have more in common than it seems.

AU - the Greens win the war.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19 - Chapter 20

Masterlist of my other works.

Read on AO3

Tags: enemies to lovers, slow burn, romance, angst, drama, eventual smut, hurt/comfort

Please remember that english is not my first language, so I'm sorry for the mistakes...

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Aemond does not return to the arena.

It is obvious the prince has left the tournament as the minutes tick by and he doesn’t show up, so the competitions resume, and in the end a minor lord from the Riverlands is the winner.

Not that Rhaena has been paying much attention, her mind on the tents where Aemond and Corwyn are surely being tended to.

“Congratulations, ser, and good fortune,” she says mechanically as the knight approaches to pay his respects, thus signaling the end of the tournament.

Finally.

Rhaena doesn’t wait long to step off the platform and cross the grounds on her way to the competitors’ tents. Though the common folk call her name, wanting her attention, she barely raises a hand in their direction, uncaring of the snub. She has to…

She pauses.

Where should she go first?

The two directions open before her. She knows the prince’s tent is to her left, separate from the ones for the other lords’. Eventually, she takes the right direction, moving through the tents and checking the banners, in case any of them give her an indication of who are inside.

“May I help you, my lady?”

A young man looks at her curiously. Rhaena stops and looks at him, “Are you a maester?”

“Indeed, my lady.”

“Are you tending to the wounded knights?” When he nods, she continues, “Have you tended ser Corwyn Corbray?”

“Just recently, my lady.”

“And how is he?”

“He will survive,” the young man frowns, “The only serious wound is the one on his side, but it will heal well with proper care. Would you like me to take you to him?”

There is a moment of hesitation on her part, “No. There is no need, I merely wanted to hear from him,” she sighs, “I imagine he will be taken to the castle to continue his recovery.”

“When he awakens from the sleep of the milk of the poppy, yes, my lady.”

Rhaena nods, “Thank you, maester. You have been very kind.”

She is about to turn away, when the young man speaks again, “Should I… should I let Ser Corwyn know that you asked for him?”

“No, as I said, there is no need.”

Without waiting for an answer, she turns and strides to Aemond’s tent.

***

“At least you had the good sense to withdraw before killing someone.”

His mother’s voice – or rather her complaints – only worsen the headache he feels throbbing in his temples.

“We can still attribute your behavior to some sort of… need to prove yourself or your worth as a warrior in a tournament being held in your honor,” the dowager queen continues, looking at him with a mix of disapproval and anxiety.

“It is irrelevant what the Court think,” he says quietly, the pain in his jaw beginning to show. That fucking Corbray had managed to hit him hard before he could push him away, “They wanted a good show and that’s what I gave them.”

“And since when do you insist on pleasing the common people?”

“Isn’t that what you wanted? For me to get more involved?”

“Not like this!”

His mother sighs, clearly exasperated with his attitude. The prince thinks there is a certain tone of suspicion in her claims, as if Alicent somehow sensed that something else motivated him to participate in the ridiculous tournament, but she does not press for answers. Still, she approaches the improvised bed where he is sitting and takes the clean cloth that the maester has left while he prepares an infusion for Aemond, and wets it in water, approaching her son and delicately placing her hands on his cheek.

The prince wants to murmur a thank you as he feels the cloth clean his wounds, but he cannot. He only limits himself to observing his mother’s still beautiful face, expression concentrated, cleaning the traces of blood, dirt and sweat that are surely stuck to his skin.

“If only you could see yourself!” sighs the queen, “The bruises will soon appear, how will you enter the Great Sept tomorrow in this state? Your handsome face is…”

“You are the only one who finds me handsome,” he interrupts her.

His mother’s response is interrupted by the arrival of his betrothed.

“Queen Alicent,” she greets, walking to a stop a few feet from them. His mother puts aside her task to turn to Rhaena, “Cousin, how are you feeling?”

Their eyes meet for a brief moment, but he doesn’t respond. It’s his mother who speaks, “The prince only suffered superficial wounds, thank the gods.”

“Thank the gods,” Rhaena repeats.

An awkward silence falls between the three of them. Aemond, who can’t speak freely, not in front of his mother, is about to say something when Rhaena intervenes again.

“Your Grace, do you think I can talk to my cousin? Alone.”

His mother, clearly intrigued, looks at both of them, searching for an answer, “I don’t know how appropriate that is.”

“Mother, go find the maester. Our conversation won’t take long,” Aemond’s voice is almost an order.

Alicent grimaces, but doesn’t protest, “I will be back soon.”

Rhaena murmurs a thank you and watches the dowager queen leave the tent before turning to him.

“You took your time before coming and fulfilling your duty to ask for my health.”

The bitterness, much to Aemond’s irritation, is clear in his voice. So is the insinuation and suspicion in his words, which is not lost on Rhaena.

“I assure you cousin, I did not visit him, if that is what you imagine.”

“You did not? Were you not crying at the foot of his bed?”

Rhaena presses her lips into a thin line and tilts her face to the side, clearly annoyed, but ultimately just shakes her head.

“No, though I admit I did inquire about his injuries.”

“Ah,” he smirks at her, “Of course.”

Rhaena takes a tentative step toward him, her hands fiddling with the hems of her dress, “I wanted… I wanted to thank you for not killing him.”

“I was tempted to.”

“But you did not, and I appreciate that.”

Her voice sounds so full of relief, Aemond hates to hear it, so he looks away and down at his hands still red and sore from this morning’s effort, his knuckles cracked from the force with which he had delivered the last blow.

“I imagine you did not enjoy the show as worried as you were for the life of your lover?”

“He was never my lover. And my concern was not exclusively for him.”

“Was it not?”

“No,” she answers almost fiercely, taking a step closer to the prince

“Well, I do not need you to worry about me,” he replies harshly.

No. You don’t need it, but you crave it. You desperately crave for her to… care about you, that voice whispers in his mind.

“Too bad I do. I care what happens to you.”

Aemond only shudders at the words that until a moment ago echoed in his mind.

“Out of obligation?”

“No,” Rhaena takes another step and they are now very close, so close that her dress brushes the destroyed fabric of his pants. She positions herself between his legs and, since the prince is tall, their faces are almost at the same height, “Because I was beginning to enjoy your company and our time together.”

At that, Aemond does not know what to say. Their gazes remain locked for a moment, until Rhaena takes the cloth that Alicent has left, wets it and looks at her cousin, asking with her eyes if she can continue cleaning him. He nods, hating himself, but longing for her touch.

“Does it hurt?” her question is almost a whisper, her small hands delicately fulfilling their task.

“Nothing I cannot handle.”

He is tempted to make a sardonic comment about Corbray’s lack of strength, but prefers to remain silent.

Rhaena nods, and for a moment he closes his good eye and enjoys her ministrations, her fingers brushing the skin of his cheeks, her familiar scent washing over him as they are so close that if he leans forward a little further, he would be able to touch her lips.

“And here?” The prince opens his eye when he feels Rhaena’s hand rest on his chest, over his heart. He looks at her with a confused expression, “Are you happy after taking out your anger on him?”

It doesn’t escape Aemond’s notice that his cousin hasn’t mentioned Corbray’s name out loud. And that, in a way, pleases him, so he decides to be honest.

“Partly, yes,” he answers in the same low tone of voice, “Though I would have been more satisfied if I had gone all the way. At least he got what he deserved and paid for his crime.”

“There was never a crime to pay for.”

“Mmm,” Aemond watches her expression, trying to find some trace of a lie in her eyes, something to betray her words, “Even if I was tempted to believe you, you too must pay for your audacity in meeting him. And him for even suggesting it, for dancing with you, for wrapping his arms around you, for almost kissing you and touching you.”

Rhaena shudders upon hearing this, and the prince wonders if she can detect the possessive tone in his voice as he tells her all these things, “I apologize, cousin. I know I acted in a way that does not befit my position. I am aware of that.”

“Well,” Aemond places his hand over the one Rhaena still has on his chest, slowly stroking her fingers, “It’s good that you have that clear now that you will be my wife.”

“Your wife and therefore you are the only one with the… right to do all those things?”

“Mmm.”

Rhaena smirks, “Well, cousin, that remains to be seen,” she replies, surprising him by noticing her hardened gaze, “Tomorrow you too will become my husband. And I expect the same as you ask of me,” his cousin steps back so suddenly that he can do nothing to prevent it, and only their hands remain joined. She gives him a gentle squeeze before breaking free from his grip and standing at a safe distance, “You know what I mean.”

Yes, Aemond knows what Rhaena is talking about, but he doesn't say anything because Alicent returns at that moment with the maester and she takes the opportunity to leave the tent.

***

Lady Johanna's gaze is on her, watching her with a mix of curiosity and pity?

“I am sorry, my lady, I am afraid I am not the best company this evening.”

They're gathered alone in lady Lannister’s private chambers. Her invitation had surprised her, although she was grateful for the distraction considering that her mind was still returning to the conversation of a few hours ago with her cousin. Had she really given Aemond some kind of… ultimatum? And more importantly, was she even going to be able to fulfill it? It wasn't as if she could stop him from taking her by force or…

“I am perfectly capable of understanding you, Lady Rhaena,” the woman delicately wipes the corners of her mouth with the cloth napkin, “The day before my wedding I didn't eat a bite, I spent it in bed imagining the worst possible scenarios about my future husband and married life.”

“Were you not familiar with Lord Jason?” she asks curiously.

“He was our lord paramount, of course. I had seen him a couple of times when he visited The Crag, but not enough to really get to know him.”

Rhaena nods. She knows that this is how it usually goes in such unions, “Were you scared?” she dares to ask.

“Terrified,” Lady Johanna smiles wistfully, “That is partly why I took the liberty of requesting this meeting. I thought that perhaps you needed a voice with experience on the subject now that you are faced with the fate of every other noble woman in the realm.”

“And I appreciate your consideration towards me.”

“Surely you have doubts,” the woman continues, making a face very similar to Marianne’s when she is concentrating on something, “I imagine that Lady Laena did not have the opportunity to speak with you on these matters, considering that the gods took her when you were still young,” Rhaena simply nods, her heart filling with sadness at the mention of her mother, “And Princess Rhaenyra probably did not speak to you either since your engagement to Prince Lucerys never materialized and times were uncertain.”

Rhaena smiles vaguely, and lifts her teacup to her lips, “I know what is expected to happen tomorrow in the marital bed, my lady, my septas spoke to me of it.”

“Ah, the septas!” Lady Lannister sneers, “They know nothing of the subject. And, if they do know they never dare to speak.”

“Your words do not comfort me,” she lets out a nervous chuckle.

“It is not pleasant. At least, not at first,” she sighs, “But it is our duty, and, with time, it becomes more tolerable. Enjoyable, even, if you can get your future husband to stop thinking only of himself, and take more notice of you.”

“Oh,” is all she can say because the truth is, she has no idea what Lady Lannister is talking about. The woman laughs and sips from her wine glass, clearly understanding her silence, “Do not worry, remember my words and you will understand them as the days go by.”

“I will trust you, Lady Lannister.”

“What I’m really trying to tell you, my dear, is that you need to understand your future husband. Generally, all men like women to be obedient, accommodating, and to simply nod along with everything they say, but we can be more than that.”

“Was that the case with your husband?”

“My husband, gods bless him, loved to hear the sound of his own voice. He was not the brightest, but I learned quickly that he didn’t like being contradicted too much. I would pretend to agree with him, and simply whisper things in his ear, but I did it in a way that Jason thought the ideas were his own,” she smiles sadly, “I am not saying it will be like that with the prince, but you know him, you’ve spent time with him. Learn and observe, it will serve you well.”

Rhaena thinks about her words. She had had a similar thought, of course, but she knows that her relationship with Aemond has changed a lot since then. Weeks ago, when she had wanted to get along with him, it was simply to feel secure in her marriage. Now that there was, somehow, some attraction between them, as well as some sense of competition and battle of wills, everything was more complicated. She knew she should give in, but she didn’t want to. Just as she knew that Aemond showed some weakness towards her, but only at times, only when he was vulnerable, which wasn’t always.

“I’ve given you a lot to think about, it seems,” Lady Johanna’s voice brings her back to reality, “I know that too much is demanded of us, but it will all be worth it if you can earn his respect and regard. His heart, even. And when you give him a son, he will shower you with praise because he will see in him the continuity of his lineage, especially in the situation you find yourself in.”

“I know.”

“It will be worth it, believe me,” she repeats, “A child will change your life, your way of thinking and considering things. And that child will be for you too, especially at the beginning, it will be your world.”

Rhaena doesn’t know if that prospect terrifies her or makes her long for that moment.

“Thank you, Lady Lannister.”

“You are a clever and nice girl, Rhaena, use that to your advantage,” she replies and stands up, “I will not detain you any longer, I am sure you have many things to do.”

Rhaena exchanges a few last words with the woman, and goes straight to her room. When she arrives, she finds several maids packing her belongings into trunks and chests.

“What are you all doing?” she asks Cindy.

“Queen Alicent told us that we should move your things to the Tower of the Hand, my lady.”

The Tower of the Hand. Aemond’s chambers.

“Right, of course.”

Rhaena doesn’t interrupt them any further, she simply sits on the edge of the bed and watches them work, until other maids arrive to fix her hair.

Once again, she doesn't protest, she just lets them undo the dreadlocks from her hair, which takes hours, but she doesn't complain at all, she doesn't complain about the pain or even mention that she would have preferred to keep them. It doesn't matter. Not really.

When they finally let her alone, she lies down on the bed and tries to sleep. And the gods seem to take pity on her once again because she manages to do so without any problems.

***

“You look beautiful.”

The compliment comes from Marianne who, standing behind her, also looks at her reflection in the mirror.

The words of thanks stay in her throat, so she just reaches for her lady’s hand and squeezes it tightly.

It’s not that she doesn’t like what she sees. She knows Marianne is right, she looks good. The dress is a beautiful ivory shade with dark red sleeves that fall to her feet. The details embroidered in gold threads seem to symbolize the flames of dragon fire. The ruby ​​necklace at her throat exquisitely complements the outfit, as does the tiara that looks delicately placed on her mane of silver curls.

She looks more than good, if she is honest with herself.

And yet, she can’t help the feeling of fear and at the same time anticipation that runs through her body.

“Clearly Queen Alicent has good taste,” Marianne continues, “This dress is perfect for a royal wedding.”

Rhaena nods, “Remind me to thank her.”

She doesn’t think she’ll even be able to say anything coherent during the day.

She doesn’t even think she’ll be able to make it to the Grand Sept on her own.

“Come, we mustn’t be late.”

Her friend takes her hand and guides her into the courtyard of the Keep, where she expects to find a carriage, but instead she finds a beautifully decorated open carriage.

“The people will want to see you,” she explains before giving her a hug and saying goodbye.

She is not alone, however. Her cousin is waiting to help her up and make the journey together.

“Lord Alyn, good morrow.”

“Rhaena, you look lovely.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

She does her best not to damage her dress as she sits down. Her cousin settles in as well, and the carriage moves forward, weaving through the people outside the gates, calling out her name.

Thankfully the commotion frees her from having to converse with her cousin. So, she turns her attention to greeting the people, smiling as convincingly as she can and trying to catch some of the flowers thrown her way.

“The people love you.”

Her cousin helps her down as they stop in front of the Great Sept. “People love an occasion to celebrate,” she replies, smoothing the skirts of her dress.

Alyn smirks and offers his arm, which Rhaena takes, slowly moving alongside him.

“We haven’t had much opportunity to talk these days.”

“The wedding took up much of my time, surely you understand, cousin.”

“Of course,” he replies cordially, “However…”

“There is nothing else to discuss,” she replies as she begins to climb the many stairs, “You are to marry my sister, you have assured me that your intentions are the best, and I believe you. I hope your union will be one filled with joy and that, when we meet again, it will be under equally joyous circumstances.”

Alyn does not reply. Although Rhaena has not yet written to Baela, her mind occupied with more pressing matters, she does not tell lies. She believes the new lord Velaryon’s words. It is not her sister whom she is truly concerned about. At least not in matters of marriage.

The Great Sept is brighter than the other times she has visited. Hundreds of candles are lit beneath each altar. The nobles, already assembled, stand in front of the main altar of the Father's statue, and Rhaena notes that only a select group of them have managed to enter the ceremony.

When a trumpet sounds, all eyes turn to her. Alyn begins to advance along the path marked by brothers of the faith, who hold candles and look very solemn. Rhaena does not make eye contact with anyone, her eyes fixed straight ahead, focused on taking one step after another.

“Remember what I told you, cousin,” Alyn whispers when they are already reaching the point where the royal family is standing, “I am here for you.”

Rhaena offers the briefest of nods as she removes her arm from Lord Alyn and walks to where Aemond is waiting for her.

Although the journey is short, the seconds seem to drag on forever as she takes the final steps towards her fate.

“You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection”

It is the High Septon who speaks, a goofy smile on his lips as he looks at her with fatherly affection. Rhaena bites the inside of her lip and kneels before the altar. Aemond walks slowly up behind her, and places a heavy black and red cloak over her shoulders.

Then, he offers her his hand to rise. Rhaena takes it, her heart pounding in her chest as she stands and stays beside the prince.

Has he worn the cloak before? She can’t help but wonder as his scent envelops her. Or maybe it’s just the fact that they are so close to each other.

“Your Grace, my lords, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of a man and his wife. In the presence of the Seven, I join these two as one flesh, one heart, and one soul for all eternity.”

The High Septon’s words take her breath away, causing her breathing to quicken and her legs to weaken. Aemond seems to notice, because his hand goes to her elbow, holding her. Rhaena doesn’t dare look at him.

“Look upon each other and say the words.”

This is it. The moment Rhaena has been dreading. Not only because the words she must speak next are the final hammer blow to the nail that is her sentence to join her life to Aemond's, but because she is not sure she can even speak. What if she can't make a sound and only manages to embarrass herself in front of the court?

Her thoughts are cut off when her cousin faces her, and she, instinctively, does the same.

Rhaena looks up at Aemond and holds her breath as she watches him.

The bruises that weren't quite as visible yesterday are now. A purple bruise covers the left side of his chin and another is noticeable high on his right cheekbone. The girl is tempted to raise her hand and cover his face, but stops herself, finally placing it next to Aemond's, now holding hands facing each other.

“Father, Smith, Warrior,” the prince begins, and instinct guides her, making her repeat the prayer as well. A prayer she has practiced and knows well, “Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am his and he is mine. From this day until…”

“Until the end of my days,” Aemond finishes for both of them.

The High Septon utters something else and the attendees break into applause and cheers, but Rhaena pays them no attention, her gaze still focused on Aemond.

And the way he is looking at her, with… possessiveness and desire all at once, his one good eye scanning her body up and down, making her blush when he finally meets her gaze again.

And though she’s dreaded this moment for the past few months, though just a few hours ago she was miserable about joining her cousin, now she can’t help but feel the same anticipation he seems to be feeling. And the thought sends a rush of pleasure through her body.

Because she is finally his wife.

And he is hers.

Until the last of their days.

Thanks for reading! Would love if you guys let me know what you think so far

@user05152535456 @pugetprincess @draftswriting @hopefulnovelwritingland @maymunahar @niocel @goldenjoyboyy @gracelessbeach @jenmakeusin10 @dagma18 @atargcvnt @iidontgiveafuckuniverse @ammo23 @qyburnsghost @ithoughtulikedme @avidreader73 @feyresqueen @zeroinetoheroine @dragontwinsfireandblood

Let me know if you want to be tagged

[kiingbiing]

-

[bumblingbabooshka]

Amanda Grayson with her Hubby and Stepson

[inniave]

after surgery i'm buying myself pentiment goddamnit

[cerise-on-top]

i’d just like to say that you are feeeeeddddinggg the kate lovers so well omg, there straight up isn’t enough kate love and im so happy that you are willing to write her so much. you write her so well,i adore your stuff so so much. thank you for your service tbh 🫡🫡💛

Thank you!!! I try my best here and I'm glad it pays off and that people enjoy my silly little writings!! I am always willing to write for the girls! In fact, I'm usually waiting for more requests on them because my gay heart cannot take being apart from them for too long! And Laswell is literally such a good character and it's such a shame she's so underrated! Everyone deserves someone as cool and epic as Laswell in their lives! Besides, as you said, there really isn't enough love for Laswell, so I'm more than happy to change that! Sometimes you just gotta make the people happy and write something silly and fun for them! Sometimes what you need in your life is to kiss Kate Laswell and give her a hug and go on vacation with her and cuddle with her while watching TV and cook a good meal with her and just be domestic with her in general!

[yueebby]

12:03 pm  — gojo satoru

synopsis. gojo tries to convince his first years that he was able to pull you.

contents. fluff, crack??, whipped!gojo, mentions of having a kid, he is SO in love with his wife it's disgusting, the first years are sick of their teacher

“[name] sensei is a good looking woman, isn’t she?” yuji remarked, nonchalantly propping his feet up on the desk. “you think so too, right gojo sensei?”

a sly smile played on the corners of gojo's lips, eventually blossoming into a wide, dreamy grin. “good eye yuji! she's undeniably the most beautiful woman on this planet.”

megumi, seated at the desk beside yuji, couldn't hide his grimace.

nobara's expression mirrored that of a disgruntled sea urchin. “dream big, you two. she’s way outta both of your leagues.”

“she is, isn’t she?” gojo sighs dreamily, his gaze far away. a dopey grin settles over his face; like a man walking on air. it was deeply unsettling to the first years to see a grown man behave this way.

megumi rolled his eyes and muttered his disapproval, choosing to ignore his sensei, who had casually seated himself backwards on a chair.

gojo propped his chin with both of his palms, leaning closer into the first years students. “do you think i’d stand a chance with a woman like her?”

megumi buried his face in his hands, audibly groaning in response.

“a sensible woman like that and you? fat chance.” nobara deadpanned, squinting disapprovingly at her teacher. her negative comments elicit a grunt from the snow-haired man.

yuji’s eyes flit nervously from kugisaki to gojo. 

“sensei! i think you have a chance with [name] sensei!” yuji tried to reassure his white haired teacher, offering a thumbs-up. gojo responded by affectionately ruffling yuji’s hair.

megumi couldn’t help but speak up. “she’s a married woman, you know,” he mutters to his friend.

yuji’s eyes widened,  “you’re kidding! who do you think got the honor?” 

“but she’s so young!” kugisaki exclaimed, slamming her hand on the table. 

their discussion is cut short when the shoji doors of the classroom slide open abruptly.

with hands on your hips, you stood sternly before your first year students and their teacher, an air of authority about you.

satoru couldn't help but gulp; you were indeed captivating when you were upset. it’s not his fault that you look so cute when your eyebrows furrow and you puff up in anger.

“i waited for half an hour in the courtyard to start today’s lesson and yet here i find my students, along with their sensei who should be in kyoto for a meeting.” a wry smile graced your lips, sending a chill down everyone’s spine. the three first years bowed their heads in shame.

yuji thinks this is the first time he’s seen his teacher nervous. a bead of sweat appears on the side of gojo’s face.

“honey!” he quickly stands up and walks towards you. with every step he takes, nobara’s face scrunches up at his disgusting conduct. 

“don’t.” you warned, raising a finger up to keep satoru at an arm’s length. he respected your wishes to some extent, grasping your hand and placing it within the hold of his own. the diamond on your ring finger glistened as satoru toyed with it.

gasps filled the room as yuji and nobara observed the display of affection. just how inappropriate could their sensei get, and why were you allowing it? what would your husband think?

satoru tenderly caressed your hand in his, cradling it as he leaned in closer. “please forgive me; it was an honest mistake.”

“honest mistake my ass. yaga told me that this is the second meeting you’ve skipped out this month,” you stated, peering fiercely into his blindfolded eyes. satoru’s cocky demeanor wavered, replaced by a nervous chuckle.

“the first time was when i took you to naha, remember?” he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “and if i remember correctly, you enjoyed our night out,” your eyes widened, recalling the romantic trip satoru had organized. 

feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, you attempted to pull away, but his grip on your hand tightened.

“forgive me?” his voice softened, lips curving downward, giving him the appearance of a dejected kitten.

a sigh escapes your lips. he was going to be the death of you.

“fine. but this is the last time,” you warned, “and you owe me for covering for you.”

satoru straightened up, nodding fervently. “have i mentioned how much i love you?” wrapping an arm around you, he placed a kiss on the top of your head, despite your futile attempts to stop him.

“this is…” yuji’s jaw dropped.

“so inappropriate! shame on you!” nobara’s chair makes a harsh screech with how fast she leaves it to come to your aid. 

“kugisaki–” you attempted to calm her down, but she clung to your elbow, desperately trying to pry you from satoru’s embrace.

satoru’s hold on you tightened as he wrapped his other arm around your frame, pulling you close. he plops his chin on top of your head and resists nobara’s attempts to free you. like hell he’s letting anybody take his girl, not even his own student.

“crushing on a married woman is one thing, but to openly flirt with her– ” kugisaki struggled. you tilt your head in confusion. 

satoru’s strong arms flexed as he fought to maintain his hold on you. he nuzzled your neck. “’m fine right here,” he inhaled deeply, as if trying to take in as much of you as possible.

“[name] sensei! how can you stand there and let this man disrespect your marriage?!” nobara implored, wide-eyed, disregarding all respect she had for her teacher.  “how will your husband react when he finds how gojo sensei behaves around you?” she looks desperate, and you want to laugh at the sincerity behind her actions. you get it now.

only your idiot husband would pull a stunt like this.

“i hope your husband can fight because i’m willing to fight him to the death for your hand,” satoru mutters from your neck. you take your hand from nobara’s shoulders to shove the six-foot-three giant away.

“you seriously didn’t tell them, satoru?” you ignored his whiney protests as you created distance between the two of you. 

“tell us what?” kugisaki demanded. yuji was on the edge of his seat, nervously watching the unfolding scene, while megumi put his head down in embarrassment.

satoru looks at you with a deep frown on his face. uncertainty clouds your mind as his silence forebodes something. wetting his lips with his tongue, he quickly closed the gap between you, too fast for you to escape. a secure hand rested on your lower waist as your husband dipped you down to deepen the kiss. 

had you not been so absorbed into the kiss, you would have heard the scandalized gasps from your students.

you managed to place a hand on his chest to separate yourselves, “satoru, stop.” his eyes remained fixed on your lips, but he complied.

“yuji, nobara.. satoru and i are–” you hold up your ring finger for display.

“happily married!” your husband finished for you, a triumphant smile on his face. he squeezed you close, throwing up a peace sign. “been madly in love since i met her!” 

“what– no way! you pulled her?!” nobara spluttered, head whipping from satoru to you, unable to wrap her mind around the revelation.

yuji’s jaw is still on the floor, “megumi, you knew about this?!”

the sea urchin looks the other direction, avoiding his friends’ judgemental gazes.

“they… raised me.. sorta..” he mumbles under his breath. your heart melts at his confession. unlike you, the other first years don't take too kindly to his comment, as they start shaking him by the shoulder and starting their own interrogation.

“and we did a good job too! don’t you think we’re ready for our own?” satoru smiles down at you jokingly, his hands snaking around your waist and his hands sneaking onto your stomach. he leaves a couple of soft pats. 

“you’re cuter when you’re quiet, y’know?” you whispered. taking advantage of your students' attention on megumi, you place a single finger on his lips, hoping your husband does not notice the way your face feels like it is on fire. 

he does.

“no need to be shy now,” satoru said, grinning wolfishly, “we’ll continue this at home.”

your face flushes even deeper.

unbeknownst to you, the first years had fallen silent, observing how gojo whispered in your ear, successfully turning you into a flustered mess. perhaps they should give more credit to their sensei.

notes. not proof read (oh no). this was just a random scenario that has been plaguing my mind during halloweekend so i typed it on my phone at a party LOL this is me desperately trying to get out of my writing slump

[thinkinonsense]

I KNEW YOU IN ANOTHER LIFEᰔ

dp&w!logan howlett x past wife!reader

cw: mostly angst, some fluff, sorta mean logan, cussing.

wc: 800+

a/n: this is inspired by a one-shot I read a while back but I cannot remember who wrote it. If anyone knows, please please please let me know in the comments so I can give them credit <3 update!!! this is it!!

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

The last person you thought you would find here in the void is Logan. There has never been a Wolverine in here. You almost didn't believe it when you found out; needing to see him for yourself. And here he was. Right in front of you, the Logan you grieved all those years ago. The one who stole your heart.

Your Logan.

"And who the fuck are you?" He barked, pushing you away from him.

Those words broke your heart the second they left his lips.

Wade smacks Logan, informing him of your past together. Logan looked like he didn't believe Wade at first. You were way too beautiful for any version of him, Logan thought. What would someone like you want with a man like him?

Tears well up in your eyes as you leave, not wanting it to sting anymore. Laura follows you, glaring at the man who looked like her father. Logan didn't seem to care about the new information, instead reaching for another one of Gambit's bottles.

"I'm sorry, mom," Laura whispers, wrapping her arms around you.

"It's okay, sweetie. I'm not sure what I expected to happen." You sniffle. "He just looks so much like him."

"I know."

Suddenly, Laura stood up and stomped out the door to confront the man who upset her mother. She found Logan sitting outside alone by the fire.

"Look kid, I'm not the man you and your mother think I am." Logan sighs, not even bothering to turn around to check if it's Laura.

"You made her cry," Laura hissed, ignoring his previous comment. Logan looked up at the young girl almost apologetically before shaking his head. "Her Logan would have never made her cry."

Logan felt a sharpness in his stomach at the news. Deep down, he wondered if you two were together at some point. He doubted it though because you looked out of his league. If a past version of him managed to marry you then maybe he did some good during his time.

"If you two haven't noticed, I'm the worst Logan apparently."

"You don't have to be."

ᰔ

It's late when you finally stumble out of bed, not able to sleep. Hours of tossing and turning, trying to get Logan out of your mind. This felt like a cruel joke on your poor heart. You know it's unfair to have him pretend to be your Logan but you desperately wanted it to be him.

All of your memories together haunt your mind like a graveyard. Sweet Sundays spent wrapped in sheets. How he kissed your face every morning, had you wear his dog tags, and ride on the back of his motorcycle. You would give anything to get just one of those moments back.

"What are you doin' awake?"

The voice behind you caused you to jump slightly. A hand coming to rest on your back. You turn around, face-to-face with Logan.

"Can't sleep." You shrugged, opening the freezer to pull out a container of strawberry ice cream.

"That shit won't help you sleep." He grunts, sitting at the table. You ignore his grumpiness and continue scooping the ice cream into a bowl.

"Can we talk?" Logan didn't look you in the eyes as he spoke. Too ashamed of his actions earlier.

"I suppose so." You shrugged, pulling the spoon from between your lips.

"Were we really married?"

You answer by pulling the chain around your neck for him to see. A small diamond ring dangled next to the dog tags he gave you. The moment he saw it, he felt like the biggest asshole who ever lived.

"How many years?" The words stung in his throat.

"Five."

"What was our life like?"

"Perfect." You smile softly down at your bowl. "At least it was to me."

"You did a good job with raising her." He muttered, referring to Laura.

"You would have to."

He's silent for a second, trying to wrap his mind around the idea of being a husband and a father. He wished he knew what it was like to be cared for as much as you cared for your Logan.

"You know, you have the same look in your eyes," Your voice was so quiet, stepping closer to him until you were in front of him.

Logan could see the desperation on your face as you stared at his lips. It would be wrong for him to toy with your widowed heart, but he wanted to be the man you needed. The man you deserved.

"I'm not him, sweetheart," He said, attempting to stop you before you hurt yourself. "And I don't want you to get hurt-"

"Please," You beg, eyes filling up with tears. "I don't care who you are. I just don't want it to hurt anymore."

You were slowly killing him. How could he say no to you? Even if he was the worst Logan, he has a heart. Which is why he lets you close the gap between the two of you. His hands are tangled in your hair while one of yours rests on his jaw before climbing into his lap.

For the first time in years, your heart began beating again. You and Logan could play pretend for now. Neither of you cared what would happen tomorrow, right now was all that mattered.

[sanguineterrain]

Hello sanne! I have a request, if it inspires you: what about reader who's been hurt and has amnesia when they wake up. And Jason is there and reader gets all flustered because pretty boy alert!! Pretty boy is speaking gently to them!! And in actuality Jason and reader are together. I hope that made sense 😭 love your writing so so much!!

this is such a sweet request!

jason todd x gn!reader. tw medical setting, reader is on pain meds and has been in an accident, major major fluff, established relationship.

****

The first thing you notice is that your mouth tastes... not good.

You try to swallow and clear out the taste. All that happens is a useless smack of your tongue. Your throat is too dry for any swallowing to happen.

"...been out for about twelve hours. Yeah, I've been here the whole time."

You're pretty sure that you know that voice. You're drawing a blank on that voice's name, but you swear you know the voice.

"They're awake. Yeah, bye."

It's deep and warm and soft and yes. You definitely know the voice.

Okay. Opening your eyes.

You do so with substantial effort. Your vision is bleary. All you can make out are blobs of gray. You've got a lot of eye boogies in your eyes. You can feel them.

But you're not really sure about where your hands are at this moment in time, so the eye boogies will have to camp out for a little longer.

"Hey." The bed shifts. That warm voice gets closer. "Hey, hey. Y'thirsty?"

A straw taps your lips. You clumsily take it and drink until it gurgles and there's no more water.

"Yeah, I'll bet you're thirsty. Want more?"

You shake your head. A cool, rough hand pets your forehead. Oh, that's nice. That's very nice. The bedside manner in this hospital is impeccable. A little forward, but you don't mind. The voice and his hand are both very polite.

Time to try to actually see some shit. You hone in on your vision, putting every iota of brainpower into processing what your eyes are telling your brain.

A figure. A man. Huzzah!

Oh. Oh, wow. A very beautiful man. A big, hulking, beautiful man.

He's young, boyishly handsome. His eyes are bright. A scar is etched from the top of his right temple to his lip. There's a white streak in his dark hair. Is that a trend now? You can't remember.

"Where 'm I?" you ask.

"You're in the Batcave. How much do you remember, honey?" the gorgeous, beautiful, dreamboat nurse asks.

Well, you remember being in a car, and then being ejected from that car, and then hot, blinding pain, and then... waking up.

"Car accident?" you manage.

Pretty Nurse nods. Is he a nurse? He looks more like a biker, with his leather jacket and empty holsters. He looks like he could pin you down with one arm and—

Whoa. Chill.

"Yeah, kinda. There was an explosion. You hit your head pretty hard." He strokes the back of your head, frowning. "How do you feel?"

You feel like your head has an anvil tied to it. But it's okay, because look at this biker-nurse! Wowza!

He takes your hand (you have hands! Huzzah!) and strokes your knuckles with his thumb, which is fine, actually, because he has really nice eyes. You want to tell him.

"You h've nice eyes," you say.

Pretty Nurse blinks, looking startled. His cheeks go a little pink. "Oh. Um, thanks, baby. Y'sweet."

Baby? Do you really have that much rizz as a medical patient? You can't imagine how irresistible you must be when you haven't been in an explosion.

But then everything shatters when you look down and see a silver band on his hand. What the shit! He's married? Or engaged, at least. Son of a biscuit.

And he's flirting with you? What a pig!

You snatch your hand back, suddenly sour. Pretty Nurse raises his eyebrows.

"What's a'matter?"

"You have a ring," you say, voice dripping in contempt.

"I—" He looks down. "Uh, well, yeah. I do."

Devastating. "If you're taken, you shouldn't be flirting with me, jerk."

He squints. "Wh—oh. Oh. Huh."

Pretty Biker Nurse looks like you've just said something funny. You don't see what's so funny about infidelity. May God strike him down!

He smiles coyly. "D'you know who I am, sweetheart?"

"Yes," you say, glowering. "Y'just a no-good philanderer who should be ashamed of hi'self. Don't care how handsome you are; I won't enter your web of lies!"

He laughs, bright and sweet. Damn him! You need a different nurse. This one is the epitome of temptation.

"Oh, baby. Oh, you're too cute. Can I take your hand?"

"Not if you're gonna flirt more," you say, lifting your chin. "Dirtbag."

"Your moral code is incredible, honey. Good to know I'll never have anything to worry about, though I never doubted you. Can I show you something, though?"

He lifts your hand and on your finger is a gold band. More delicately shaped than his ring, but similar.

"Oh my God," you say, panic growing. "I'm cheating on my husband."

He laughs louder this time. "Your fiancé, actually. Wedding isn't till August. And no, honeylove. You're not cheatin', 'cause I'm right here."

He leans in and kisses your forehead. Your hackles raise for a moment until... wait...

"You're my fiancé?" you ask, eyes huge.

He smiles shyly. "In the flesh. Y'remember my name?"

You feel like it's a J name. "J..."

"Jason," he says gently. "Yeah, wow. They got you on some pretty strong meds, huh? Leslie said you should start to remember more stuff in a day."

Jason. Pretty Biker Nurse Jason. Holy moly. He's engaged to you? About to marry you?

"You are so pretty," you blurt.

That makes Jason more shy. He smiles like he's done something he's not supposed to do. "Not as pretty as you, honey pie."

"No, you're... I mean, wow. Sorry I called you a jerk. How did I get with you? That's crazy. You're fine as hell."

Jason snorts, wide shoulders shaking. His cheeks are red. "Jesus, you're shameless."

Well, yeah. You're still not sure this isn't a dream. You have to let your fiancé know exactly what you think about him.

You prepare to tell him something smooth and romantic. Something about how kissable he looks.

"Y'look like a sexy biker."

Hm. Not exactly what you had in mind. Your brain feels like a blue raspberry slushie.

Jason grins. "Oh, yeah? That why you been starin' at me? Didn't know you had a thing for bikers. You're terrified of going on my motorcycle."

How does he know that? It's true; you like bikers from afar but you're not about to get on a death machine, thanks.

"You can rev my engine," you say, head slumping against the pillow.

"Oh my God," Jason says, clearly delighted. "Don't think I've ever seen this reaction to pain meds."

"Can't believe we're engaged," you say again. "How'd we even meet?"

"Well, I'm a vigilante of sorts, and the first time we met was after I saved you from a mugging. And then we kinda just... kept running into each other. You bought me coffee without realizing who I was. And we, uh, fell in love. As people do."

"You proposed to me in Spain," you say suddenly, the memory rushing back. "You... you wanted to prove you wouldn't put work above us."

Jason nods, lacing your and his fingers together. "Yeah, that's right. Three weeks in Spain." He pulls out his phone and shows you the lockscreen. It's of you two. Jason has sunglasses on. You're smiling. You can't remember ever smiling like that before.

Tears suddenly spring to your eyes, emotion smacking into you like an eighteen-wheeler. Jason leans in, concerned.

"Baby? Hey, what's wrong? Something hurts?" he asks, inspecting your head.

Your mouth quivers. "You... you love me so much."

Jason stops, tilting his head. "I... uh, yeah. 'Course I do. You're the person I love the most in the world."

That makes you cry, tears running down your cheeks. Jason's eyes widen in alarm.

"Sweetheart? What's—hey, it's okay. Why're y'crying, huh?"

He brushes your tears away with his thumbs, cradling your face. You sniffle.

"I'm s-sorry I called you a dirtbag," you blubber. "Y'not a dirtbag. You love me so much."

"Oh-ho, oh, honey. Baby, you've been unconscious for twelve hours. You're under heavy medication. I know you didn't recognize me, it's okay. Trust me, I've been called far worse," Jason says tenderly.

Dear God, you're a beast. What kind of person doesn't recognize their own fiancé?! You cry harder.

"I should've remembered you! I'm a bad fiancé," you wail.

"Aw, sweetheart. No, no, it's okay. C'mere."

Jason scoots you over slightly and pulls you into his arms. You cry into his shoulder, slobbering all over his sexy biker jacket. He rubs circles on your back.

"You're really cute and nice and I'm glad y'marrying me," you say, muffled in his shoulder.

Jason hums, the sound vibrating through you. "I'm really happy to be marrying you, sweetheart. You rock my world."

You sniff. "Really?"

"Mmhm." Jason kisses the side of your neck. "How 'bout you sleep a little more, hm? I bet you're exhausted."

Now that he mentions it, you do feel pretty worn-out. Especially after crying. And almost getting blown up.

"Will you be here when I wake up?"

"Absolutely, honey. I swear."

Jason eases you onto your back. Your eyes are beginning to feel heavy.

"Sleep, beautiful. I'm right here."

[gojorgeous]

"business or pleasure?"

pairing: gojo x fem!reader summary: the gojo clan decides it’s time to secure an heir… and you’re the lucky woman selected for the job… content: HEAVY breeding, arranged marriage, language, praise, dacryphilia, p->v, fingering, mating press, a lil’ blood (if you squint), pet names, implied multiple rounds, gojo just generally being a menace, no established relationship, reader and gojo literally just met, reader is literally there for the purpose of getting pregnant, positive pregnancy test at the end, ideas of women as baby incubators :x, consent king gojo. wc: 3.7k a/n: I HAVE RETURNED!!! Hey!!!!!! Long time no see, babes. I was looking at my account and I haven’t posted a fic in *cough* TWO YEARS. There is simply no way that’s real 😭 Anyway, I’ve returned with something slightly different: A Gojo fic. You’re welcome. Mwah. Also, please send messages I miss y'all. happy new year bbs. and remember, AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED!

It’s only your third time in Japan. The first had been to visit family friends when you were eight, the second for a girls’ trip after you graduated college. You liked it. Tokyo was bright and busy and full of shops and things to do. The countryside always offered beauty and peace. But this third time was different. No shopping, no temples, no amusement parks. You were here for business, not pleasure. 

You run a finger along the edge of a mahogany bookshelf. Your feet are killing you, a flick of your ankles tossing your heels across the room. Your nose wrinkles when you land on a particular title. The Art of War? Interesting choice… You scan the other books, and your brows rise when you find a strange combination of academics, young adult, manga, and high fantasy? A multi-genre reader, then…

You absentmindedly rub at the arch of your foot, pushing out the ache as best you can. A day so full of stress has left you weary. Your mother hadn’t stopped hovering until the moment you’d escaped into your car, a new husband on your arm. 

You sigh. You could still hear the shower running along with said husband humming loudly to a tune you didn’t recognize. At least your groom wasn’t shy. 

A glance toward the bed has your brows raising. Were those… squishmallows? One looked like a shark, the other like a… sushi? You press your lips together, avoiding a laugh he would surely hear. You make your way to the mattress, sighing when you finally get to sit. You pull the sushi into your arms, hugging the pillow to your chest, but it no longer seemed so funny anymore. You had bigger things to think about. Your legs press together in a mix of anticipation and anxiety. All the way from America you’d come to marry the Gojo heir. It had been a rushed arrangement. Apparently, the Gojo clan had finally put their foot down and decided their heir should finally get to the business of making another heir. There’d been a search far and wide for the best match and somehow, they’d settled on you. An accomplished sorcerer yourself and abilities in your blood that only strengthened those of the Gojo line, you’d been an suitable pick. It didn’t hurt that you were young, healthy, and (upon a trip to a renowned fertility clinic) proven to be very fertile. 

Your parents had been oh-so eager to accept the Gojo clan’s proposition. The Gojo heir’s power hadn’t been matched in nearly 400 years. Any and every family would jump at the opportunity to be tied to them, especially through marriage and heirs. You were surprised you’d been chosen considering all of the options there must have been. 

Satoru seemed… fine, you thought. You hadn’t had much time to talk with him privately. The first time you’d met had been on a phone call with both of your sets of parents present and the next had been at the altar. At one point in the night he’d asked a waiter to refill your wine glass and he’d been a rather good dancer. Other than that, you’d been pulled apart at all odds and ends until you’d come back here: his apartment. 

You’d expected something a little more lavish for your wedding night, especially considering the spectacle that your wedding had been. Ice sculptures, thousand dollar bouquets, and diamond encrusted wedding rings had turned to an elegantly decorated bachelor pad. A glance around revealed a space that was obviously lived in, with odd mixes of $10,000 dollar chairs and… squishmallows.

You sink onto the edge of the bed, eyes peeling over the half-moons of your nails and the heavy gems that now sit on the fourth finger of your left hand. They are a weight you feel the pressure of. A pressure to live up to expectations, to produce a much-desired product. 

A door opens down the hall and you realize the pounding of water and the lilting of a hum has ceased. Your husband is done with his shower. 

A few seconds later he reveals himself, prancing down the hallway and into his bedroom like it’s just another Tuesday and not his wedding night. A plush blue towel is slung low around his waist and from the rivulets of water running all over his body you judge that he hadn’t even taken the time to properly dry off. Not that you mind.

You’d known your new husband was beautiful but you’d never imagined he’d be so… so goddamn seductive. 

Washboard abs, toned arms, sculpted back, wet hair and icy eyes… he was the image of a god. 

“Sorry for making you wait. I really needed that.” 

Gojo prods at his temples, eyes squished shut in what looked like a moment of pain. You’d heard of this problem from the clan. He hadn’t worn his blindfold all day for the sake of the wedding. It was no wonder the effects were catching up with him. 

“No problem.” 

A small smile reveals just a few blinding teeth and you could swear your vision went out for just a moment. 

“You hungry?” 

You arch a brow. The man had eaten two full plates and practically half the cake not yet an hour ago. 

“Can’t say that I am.” 

“Hm.” 

He nods and you watch as he plucks a stray candy off his bedside table, tossing the wrapper to the floor. 

“So, uh-” You watch the butterscotch bulge in his cheek. “You really wanna do this?” 

You glance at your half-naked husband who is practically a walking temptation. You take a breath. He’s standing so casually, as if this is a normal conversation to be having and not something life-altering.

“You don’t?” you ask.

All that gets you is a shit-eating grin. 

“Never said that.” 

You can’t help the smirk that crawls across your lips. 

“Well, we might as well get it over with, no?” 

Another flash of pearly whites. 

“Get it over with, hm?” 

You miss his meaning, pulling at a loose thread on the bedspread. 

“It shouldn’t take much effort. I’m on so many fertility meds you could probably spit on me and I’d get pregnant.” 

You pick at the thread a little more, biting your lip when you realize it’s one of those strands that’s infinite. 

“That so?” 

You jolt when a speck of wetness lands on your cheek. A quick glance reveals a fuzzy blue towel far too close for comfort. A half-naked Gojo is a whole lot closer than he’d been just seconds ago. How is he so quiet? 

Blue eyes bore into yours, water dripping down white strands and onto your skin. He’s so damn tall. He has your neck craned all the way back just to meet his gaze. 

“Yes.” You swallow. “It was part of our prenup.”

Dazed. You’re absolutely dazed. 

“Well, we probably shouldn’t risk breaking a legally binding contract, hm?” 

Closer. He’s coming closer. Too close. 

You lean back, scooting yourself up the bed in a feeble attempt to get a little more space, your emotional support sushi tumbling to the floor. He follows right after you. 

Something primal thrusts through your veins at the sight of a man, sopping wet and smirking, crawling after you, some mix of teasing and pure drive hidden in his eyes. Gojo doesn’t stop, not until you’re nearly pressed against the headboard and his arms cage your waist. Close. Too close. 

You’d thought he would have dried a bit by now, but water still slicks off his skin and hair, showering you lightly. You shiver and your husband notices. His tongue darts out to lick his lips and you get a breath of the sweetness of butterscotch and mint toothpaste. 

“You say stop,” he breathes, “and we stop.”

He leans closer, so close you can smell the eucalyptus and myrrh of his shampoo, the musk of his body wash, the candied sweetness of his breath. Those piercing blue eyes flit to your lips and back up again. 

A breath, a pause. 

“Stop?” he asks. His eyes are piercing.

You shake your head. 

“Go.” 

Lips, teeth, tongue. All of it hits you at once. For a moment you’re too shocked to respond, but then his weight is leaning on you and his hand is on your waist and his mouth tastes like candy and- and then you’re kissing him back. 

A heavy hand digs into the flesh of your waist and your hands find a patch of damp white hair to tangle in. 

He tastes good- too good and when a deft hand guides you down to the mattress you start to think that this whole baby-making business might not be so bad after all. 

Teeth knock, tongues touch, and you are on the edge of what would have been a particularly throaty moan when he pulls away. 

His attention shifts elsewhere, kisses trailing down your neck and hands straying to your hips.

“Have you-” a kiss to your collarbone. “Done this before?”

You freeze.

“What?” 

Gojo raises his head a bit and the most irritating kind of smirk plays on his lips. 

“Don’t know- thought maybe this was a virgin for your super rich husband kinda thing?” 

You shove his head back down.

“Shut up.”

He chuckles and the sound vibrates against your skin. 

“Okay, sp no need to go slow then…” 

His lips continue their assault, brushing and grazing over your skin until it lifts with goosebumps. Your breaths come a little faster, a little heavier and you gasp when his hand curls beneath the hem of your skirt.

“Oh? What’s this?” His fingers brush against the garter that rests at the top of your thighs. Your cheeks heat. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why had you agreed to wear the damn thing? You reach down, hoping to quickly rid yourself of the scrap of fabric before you can become oven more mortified. You’re just about to clamp down on it when Gojo catches your wrist. “Ah, ah. No need to be so hasty.” Your hand is easily pinned down to the mattress and, for some reason, you don’t fight it. 

Your breath catches when your skirt lifts only for Gojo to dive beneath it without a second thought. You feel his teeth grazing across the skin of your thigh. 

“Gojo-” you breathe, squirming. 

His head reappears suddenly, another one of those mischievous grins gracing his lips. “Satoru when I’m about to be inside you, baby.” 

He disappears again and you gasp and wiggle when you feel his tongue laving across the inside of your thigh. 

His teeth graze you again, but this time they clamp down on the garter and you feel it slowly sliding across your skin, down, down, past your knee and eventually to your ankle where Satoru finally yanks it past your foot with a final tug. 

You stare at him, wide eyed and lustful. That had to have been one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen. 

Satoru plucks the garter from his teeth and dangles it in front of his eyes. It’s a white, lacy little thing that matches the shade of his hair. He’s grinning again when he slides it onto his wrist like a bracelet– no, like a trophy.

“Thanks for the present.” He’s still grinning, still staring, his fingers still fiddling with the hem of your skirt. “How attached are you to this dress?” he asks. 

You blink, swallowing nervously, unable to break away from his gaze. It’s too strong, too mesmerizing. “Not… attached at all,” you manage. It’s true. Somebody else picked it out, and you’ve only been wearing it for about an hour– and it’s not like you can’t just buy a new one now with access to the Gojo bank accounts. 

His grin somehow grows even wider. “Good girl. Just what I wanted to hear.” 

There’s a splitting sound and suddenly your dress is tearing straight down the middle. It’s slow and controlled and you wonder if he’s practiced at this or if his strength is just that regulated. You find yourself hoping it’s the latter. 

The dress is ripped from your skin and you see it land somewhere across the room. You hear something shatter along with a thud, but Satoru seems anything but worried, so you ignore it. 

You’re bare in just your undergarments, a lacy white set that you’re now half proud of and half embarrassed by. 

Satoru whistles and his hands settle on your waist. “Damn, baby. Why’d you keep all this hidden for so long?” 

You scoff, your confidence surging. You reach for him, grabbing a scruff of hair at the back of his neck and pulling him close. “You’re the one taking your sweet time, Toru.” 

The sound of the nickname on your lips makes him shiver and you smirk triumphantly.

“Hmm…” is all he says as his fingers trail lower, lower, lower, until they’re dipping beneath the band of your panties. It’s somewhere between tortuous and ticklish and you squirm. “Ah, ah. Hold still for me, now.” He presses one hand to the valley between your breasts, holding you down as his other hand continues lower. When his thumb finds the wet spot on your panties and presses down your back arches and your breath escapes. 

He chuckles. “Little needy, aren’t you?” His thumb moves a little higher, grazing your clit, and you whimper. 

With one deft movement he unclasps your bra, tossing it aside. You register for just a moment that your chest is now completely bare, but soon enough his mouth is closing around your nipple and all else is forgotten. 

“S-Satoru!” you whisper. Your voice feels hoarse, even if it has no reason to be. 

His thumb continues its assault between your thighs. “So wet already, baby…” He sounds ecstatic. The grin on his lips makes you whine. “Let’s get these out of the way…” Before you know it, you hear more tearing and then cold air hits your cunt. You cry out when Satoru’s thumb returns to its ministrations, but this time there’s no cloth barrier to dull the sensation. Your hands push out and your nails curl into his bare shoulders. You need him closer.

“Satoru…” you breathe. “Kiss me…” 

That shit-eating grin returns, but he follows your command. “As my wife wishes.” 

When lips meet yours it’s hot and messy. Your nails claw down his back and you’re sure you’re leaving marks. If he minds, he certainly doesn’t show it.

His thumb continues at your clit as a finger prods at your entrance. When he slides in slowly, you gasp. He murmurs something about you being so sensitive, and proceeds to quickly find that gummy spot inside you that makes you see stars. Before you know it he’s adding a second finger and soon your hips are rocking against his thrusts, meeting his pace as you chase your high. 

“God, you’re so wet.” he whispers against your lips. True to his word, he’s been kissing you, never letting up in his attack on your mouth. “Bet you taste like fucking heaven.”

You whine, your hips stuttering against his hand. “G-Gonna… I’m–” 

He grins again, and pulls away just enough to meet your gaze. “Go ahead, baby. Cum for me.” Your eyes flutter shut, your head rolling back– “Nuh, uh. Keep those eyes open. Wanna see every second.” 

Your breaths flutter and you whimper loudly, the sound bouncing on the walls. You’re not sure why you listen, why you fight to keep your eyes open, locked on him, but you do. Maybe you’re afraid he’ll pull away and leave you wanting… or maybe you just want to please him.

You feel your muscles clenching in your stomach, hear the sloppy sounds of Satoru’s fingers thrusting in and out of you, see the gleeful anticipation in his eyes. His thumb rubs a particularly delicious circle around your clit and you feel yourself thrown over the edge. 

You can’t help but be loud. You hold his gaze the whole time, whimpering and whining his name as you gush all over his sheets. Your cunt spasms around his fingers, clenching, holding him inside, desperate to be filled. You hear him panting above you, like watching has somehow taken his breath away. 

“Good girl,” he whispers and you feel a second wave of pleasure ripple through you. 

You feel weak by the time your orgasm leaves you. Your muscles are limp and your cunt is so sensitive that you flinch when Satoru removes his fingers. He brushes a tear from the corner of your eye and you watch as he brings his sopping fingers to his mouth, sucking your juices clean. He moans, a deep throaty sound, like it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. You watch his eyes roll back in his skull, watch his throat bob as he swallows. Your lips part at the sight. 

His fingers fall from his mouth with a pop and his grin returns.

“Just like I thought,” he says. “Heaven.” 

He’s back on you in a second, licking a stripe from your collarbone to just beneath your ear. His hips slot between your own and a strong hands hook around the backs of your thighs, pressing your knees to your chest. You whimper. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so completely and utterly exposed. 

“On to the main event, yeah?” The twinkle in his eye has your heart racing even faster. His fingers catch the towel that is somehow still wrapped snugly around his waist. With one tug, it’s gone and your mouth is watering in anticipation. 

Your jaw drops lower, if it’s even possible. He’s… huge. Long and pretty with veins that you know are going to rub just right. His tip is pink and leaking, ready. 

“Satoru, it won’t–” 

His lips connect to your pulse, licking and sucking when you feel him prodding at your entrance. “It’ll fit, baby.” 

He slides himself through your folds, gathering your juices and torturing you every time his tip bumps your clit. By the time he’s finally lining himself up, you’re practically begging. 

The first push is heaven. You’re both moaning when he prods past that first tight ring of muscle and you’re gasping, crying out his name and clawing at his back. He keeps pushing, filling you inch by inch until he’s pressed snugly against your cervix. You thank him aloud when he pauses, giving you a moment to adjust to his size, to the feeling of being filled to the absolute brim. He only kisses the tears from your cheeks. 

The first thrust has you seeing stars, little white spots clouding your vision. The second has your nails embedding in his skin hard enough to draw blood. He doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, it has him moving faster, grunting in your ear and whimpering your name.

“Sooo… f-ahh-ucking t-tight…” he whispers. 

A hand slides between your sweaty bodies, a thumb rubbing familiar circles against your swollen clit. You cry out, clenching down like a vice. 

“F-Fuck, princess.” 

His thrusts rock your body and the sound of skin slapping skin echoes in the air. You feel that familiar coil begin to form, to heat at your core. Your muscles tighten and your legs begin to shake. 

“Atta girl. Cum on my cock, baby.” 

You whimper at the praise, at the incessant rubbing of your clit, at the relentless pounding of your cervix. It’s all too much, too good. 

“Satoru…” you cry. Your legs burn and ache. Satoru has your knees pressed so tightly to your chest you’re afraid something might snap. It only adds to the tension beginning to unravel at your center. You feel as if you’re burning, as if you’re going to snap– and then you do. Heat unravels beneath your skin and your mouth falls open in a silent cry. Your legs tremble and your toes curl and you vaguely hear your husband whispering a mix of curses and praises in your ear. You’re still lost in the sensation when he starts groaning and you feel him flooding your insides with shallow thrusts close to your cervix, filling you with rope after rope of his hot cum. You’re still panting when you finally regain your mind. Satoru’s still on top of you, completely limp with his head buried in your neck. You curl a hand into his hair, silently holding him close. That was some of the most mind-blowing sex you’ve ever had. You smirk. Yeah, maybe this baby-making business wasn’t going to be so bad. 

You shiver when you feel Satoru licking and sucking at your skin. There’s a tenderness in the action that makes you pull him closer. He hasn’t even pulled out yet, but you can already feel him hardening inside you, ready for another round. 

“Think it stuck?” he asks. You smirk and answer with a breathy laugh. 

“Don’t know.” Silently, you think that there’s no way it didn’t. You can feel his cum dripping down your thighs and there’s just so much of it.

He lifts his head, eyes bright and sparkling even in the dim light. He grins. “Guess we’d better make sure.” 

~

With the rate at which Satoru fucks you it’s no surprise when you get two positive little pink lines a few week later. You tell Satoru by unceremoniously dropping the test in front of him while he’s drinking his morning coffee. He only grins and kisses you before he bends you over the counter, whispering something about needing to show you how appreciative he is when he slides inside you. The next morning you wake to Satoru’s lips on yours, a brand new credit card, and a new car in the driveway, fitted with all of the newest safety features (only the best for his wife and baby, he says). You sigh and smile when you see it. Yeah, this whole baby-making business definitely wasn’t so bad.

taglist (DM me to be added!): @lacheri

please consider leaving a comment, sending an ask, or reblogging! interacting with authors is the best way to support them! thanks for reading ♡

[freelancearsonist]

every breath you take

➔ (no outbreak) Joel Miller x f!Reader

➔ 5.3k words

➔ Your dad is getting married to his soulmate and you have every intention of making it the perfect day. The only kink in your plan is your unexpected feelings for your soon-to-be stepdad’s best man.

➔ Rated MA // BILL X FRANK SUPREMACY. LONG LIVE BILL X FRANK. no outbreak, age gap (reader is early 20s, Joel is 45), unprotected p in v sex, creampie, fingering (reader receiving), references to masturbation (reader), pussy pronouns, pet names // reader has female anatomy (no body description but is generally able-bodied) and uses feminine pronouns, is Frank’s adopted daughter (written for all skin tones), wears makeup and a dress, has hair (unspecified length)

➔ Big big thank you to @sugarcoated-lame and @sunlightmurdock for this idea and letting me run with it (sorry it took 5 months 😂) this is psuedo-inspired by my own current activities as my best friend's moh which is why i haven't been super active in the past month or so, thank you to everyone for being so patient with me <33

June, 2013.

After months of planning—stress, sweat, and tears abounding—the big night is here. Well, almost here. The actual wedding is tomorrow, but tonight is the rehearsal dinner; and as your adoptive dad has spent the entire preparatory period impressing upon you, the rehearsal might be even more important than the wedding itself.

With that in mind, you arrive at the venue a few hours early to assist with the set up. Seeing the unassembled pieces and parts of the event brings a smile to your face and a determination to your soul–you want this to be perfect. 

Someone else shares your determination, too.

You would’ve sworn, when you first met him, that an elaborate wedding would be the very last thing Bill would want. And yet this has been as much his planning as it has been your dad’s. It brings so much joy to your heart that your dad has found someone who matches him so completely. You couldn’t be happier for them; and at the same time, you couldn’t be more frustrated for yourself. Because, as dedicated as you are to making this day perfect for them, Bill’s best man and long-time friend is maybe even more dedicated. He’s been turning this wedding into a ‘friendly’ competition between the two of you, trying to one-up you at every opportunity he gets. It’s infuriating—especially when he wears that smug grin that’s become his signature expression around you. It’s torture, too, because all you want to do is kiss that stupid smirk right off his handsome face.

It’s unintentional on his part, you’re sure, but the tension is palpable enough to slice with a butter knife nonetheless. Today is no exception—he’s dressed for labor in worn jeans that are just a little too tight around his thighs and a faded Iron Maiden shirt that hugs his strong biceps. His hair is ruffled like he’s been tugging and running his hands through it, and it puts all kinds of indecent thoughts into your brain.

It’s wrong. The guy’s old enough to be your dad, and that’s aside from the fact that he’s your soon-to-be-stepdad’s best man. No self-respecting young woman should be looking at a guy who’s old enough to remember the Nixon administration the way you are right now. And yet…

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” he says in that drawl of his which makes you want to throw your sanity out the window and fall at his feet to worship the very ground he walks on.

You’ve never hated Joel Miller more than you do right now. 

Regardless, you greet him with the sweetest smile you can muster. “Good morning. I didn’t know you’d be here this early.”

“Well, rehearsal’s as important as the weddin’ itself,” he dutifully repeats the line that you’ve heard from your dad a million times over. “And this barn ain’t gonna decorate itself.”

“Well, that’s kinda my job,” you remind him, hoping your tone sounds more annoyed to him than it does to you. 

He flashes that boyish smile that no middle-aged man should be able to master, and it makes your heart skip a beat. “Can’t let you have all the fun, can I?”

You want to grumble about it. You want to be annoyed by this goofy-ass forty-five year old man and his stupid competitive streak. Instead, your mouth betrays you by smiling. “I appreciate the help.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” He punctuates it with a wink, and you consider just falling onto the ground and perishing. Instead, you roll up your shirt sleeves and get to work.

The fruits of your labor are well worth the effort they take. You feel a heady sense of pride when you look around at all the decor–as long as this barn has been a wedding venue, you’re certain no one’s ever made it look this good before.

The tables are arranged neatly in rows, draped with luxurious white tablecloths and topped with neat arrangements of greenery in the centers. The seating chart that Bill and Frank worked so meticulously on is put into effect with hand-written placards designating each chair to an occupant. Strings of white globe lights hang from the rafters and cast a hazy, reverent glow over the entire barn. Everything is the perfect mix of modern and rustic.

Outside on the lawn, rows of neatly arranged chairs line a petal-scattered aisle. Everything leads to the focal point–an eight-foot high arch wrapped generously in green vines and white blossoms. It’s definitely the highlight of the entire thing, which irks you just the slightest bit–it was solely Joel’s vision. Apparently, he’s a lot more artistic than you’ve ever given him credit for. It tracks, you suppose; construction is an artform if you really think about it. He uses his hands to create just like a sculptor, but to a larger scale. And those hands are capable; you’ve seen exactly how much they can move or carry and you wonder if they could–

You shake off that train of thought before it can go any further. If you can’t get yourself under control you’re going to start wearing a rubberband on your wrist that you can snap every time your thoughts about Joel stray into the ‘things you shouldn’t be thinking about a middle-aged man’ category.

He certainly has aged like fine wine for a forty-five-year-old man, though…

Snap.

With a sigh, you give your head a shake in hopes of clearing your mind and take a look down at your watch. You’ve finished with perfect timing–you’ve got about two hours to go home and get cleaned up before you have to be back for the rehearsal dinner.

You look for Joel for a few moments before leaving, but he’s nowhere to be found. It puzzles you a little bit that he wouldn’t at least say goodbye before leaving, but then again he really doesn’t have to answer to you. It’s a well-needed wake up call, a reminder that your feelings–can whatever you’re going through really be called that?–your attraction, is one-sided. He’s here for Bill and Frank, not for you. You’re his best friend’s daughter and nothing more, and the realization washes over you like a bucket of ice water.

You hate the way it sends you spiraling on the drive home. You hate the way you care so much about what he might think of you. You hate the way that you have to look at yourself in the mirror and give yourself a stern talking-to about needing to let this whole stupid crush go. You hate the way that you can’t even pretend the extra layer of mascara you apply isn’t for him.

You avoid Joel the entire night, which isn’t easy to do. You have to walk down the aisle next to him during the ceremony rehearsal but you avoid his eye contact, taking a twisted little satisfaction in the way he frowns when all of your replies to his chit chat are short and clipped. Dinner is easier–both Frank and Bill sit between you and Joel, so there’s no attempted conversation to deflect from him. But you could almost swear you feel his eyes on you, as if he’s looking right through your dad and soon-to-be-stepdad.

Joel is puzzled, to put it simply. One second, he’s got you in the palm of his hand. Then a moment later, you’re looking at him like you might look at a bug you stepped on and got stuck to your shoe.

He puts it out of mind as much as he can. He’s not supposed to be looking at you like that, after all. He’s not supposed to be admiring the perfectly kissable curve of your shoulder or the biteable expanse of your neck. He’s definitely not supposed to be wondering what you’re wearing under that adorable dress of yours. You’re his best friend’s daughter, for god’s sake. You’re so far off limits that he shouldn’t even be looking in your general direction.

But he is. He’s looking, and he can’t stop looking. And most of all, he can’t stop wondering if you feel it too.

Evidently you don’t, because you won’t even take his arm as you practice walking up the aisle in preparation for the big day tomorrow. You’ve probably figured out how much he’s been thinking about you and the kinds of things he’s been thinking, and you’re disgusted. He’s just a dirty old man to you, surely.

Little does Joel know that you come on your fingers moaning his name practically as soon as you’re through the door of your hotel room that night. You fall asleep before you can feel too ashamed about it–blissfully unaware that Joel’s doing the same exact thing just a few doors down.

You wake up in the morning with much more clarity than you usually have, especially at 9AM.

No matter what, today is about Bill and Frank. You get to be part of a true love story, the kind that your dad used to read about to you in bedtime stories when you were a little girl. That knowledge steadies your mind more than anything else ever could.

You jump into the shower and try your best to tame your unruly hair before shuffling down to the dining area on the ground floor of the hotel. 

Bill and Frank really spared no expense on this place. All the food is fresh and hot, replenished every few minutes. It smells incredible–there’s overlapping waves of pastries, sausages, eggs, and fruits. It’s almost overwhelming; there’s way too many options.

After you pile up a plate with as much as your stomach can comfortably handle, you make your way over to the table your father occupies by himself.

“I was wondering when you were going to show up,” he says through a mouthful of cantaloupe.

“Decided to sleep in a little,” you explain. “Where’s Bill?”

“He already had breakfast, he’s getting ready,” Frank explains. “Joel made out a whole schedule for us, put us on different shifts so we don’t see each other before the wedding. It’s bad luck, after all.”

You snort through a bite of biscuits and gravy, because that’s such a characteristically Joel thing to do. From what you know of him, he thrives with routine and function–you’re surprised he doesn’t have you working off of a schedule, too.

A small, annoying part of your brain thinks it’s really adorable that Joel plays into that whole superstition. Another, more sensible part tells you that nothing Joel does is adorable and you’ve really got to stop thinking about him so much.

“How’re you feeling?” You ask, looking up at your dad through a bite of blueberry muffin.

“Relieved, honestly,” he admits with a chuckle and a twinkle in his eye. “I finally get to marry my best friend today, with my other best friend by my side.”

You hide the way the comment makes you choke up behind another bite of your breakfast.

There have been a lot of times where you’ve gone unwanted in your life; starting right at birth, continuing with unrequited crushes and lost friendships. But one person has always wanted you and been there for you through thick and thin. Frank picks you up every time no matter how hard you fall, and you feel so unbelievably lucky to be in his life. 

If anyone deserves a fairytale ending, it’s Frank. He always puts the people he cares about first, and now it’s his turn to shine. You’re not letting anything get in the way of that–especially not stupid, unrequited feelings for the best man.

With a little more resolve in your mind, it’s easier to get ready for the main event.

Every step of your preparation has been immaculately planned over the course of months. From your dress to your make-up, to your hair, not one detail has been overlooked. It takes you more than an hour to get ready–but when you’re ready, you’re a vision. Even though you’re not normally the type to enjoy looking into the mirror, you have to admit to yourself that you look stunning. 

Your traitorous brain wonders if Joel will think the same. 

With a heavy sigh, you grab your bag and your car keys. You really wish you had a way to shut those intruding little wishful thoughts off–they’re doing more harm than good at this point. 

You take a deep breath, shove as much as you can down, and resolve to have a good time celebrating your dads–then you open the door and set out towards an unforgettable night.

Whatever kind of shock and awe you were hoping to inspire in Joel, it’s surely nothing compared to the rush you feel as you find him in the bridal party lounge.

You’ve never seen him quite so put together. He’s normally a bit undone–a symptom of being a long-time bachelor–but today, he’s perfectly styled. The hair he’s been growing out is slicked back into gorgeous curls, his black tuxedo pants hug his hips like a dream. He’s in the process of fastening the last two buttons on his impeccable white dress shirt and every bone in your body screams to stop him–to keep that peek of his tanned chest on display for your hungry eyes.

You have a fearful moment of thinking you actually made the request aloud, because he does stop in his tracks when his eyes land on you. His lips part in shock and his pupils dilate and he freezes. Fingers that were once absentmindedly completing their task drop to his sides as he murmurs something that sounds suspiciously like “wow.”

“Need help?” You offer before you can think better of it.

There’s a long moment of tense silence, and then he nods silently.

Your mouth is dry as you approach him, trying desperately to keep your cool. Your clammy palms are definitely not the most qualified to complete this task for him, but you can’t back down now. With a deep breath–you’re so close now that it fills your nose with the spicy, intoxicating scent of his cologne–you will your hands to stay steady and reach for his shirt buttons.

His lead tongue finally remembers how to work as you fasten the first button. “You look… incredible.”

“So do you,” you whisper. Just when you think you’re out of the woods, ready to step back and breathe properly again, his hand comes up to offer you a bow tie.

“This too?” His warm brown eyes search yours–how could he ever expect you to say no?

“Y-yeah. Sure.” You turn the collar of his shirt up, then carefully fasten the tie around his neck. The band is perfectly configured to his neck, the bow already tied–all you have to do is secure a hook through a loop. He could’ve easily done this himself; and yet he didn’t. He wanted you to do this, and that particular bit of knowledge sends a rush of heat burning through your veins. 

Maybe this whole song and dance isn’t quite as unrequited as you originally thought.

Your fingers brush his warm skin as you smooth his shirt collar back down over the band of the tie and it’s like an electric shock that shoots through every inch of your body. You’ve stuck a fork in an outlet and you want to do it again.

You’re done with your task, yet you can’t bring yourself to step away. He doesn’t either–for seconds that feel like hours, you look into those dark eyes and feel his breath against your face and you finally have the courage to do something about it. You’re going to kiss him, just lean in a little further and–

The sound of the lounge door opening makes your body jolt with the force of an actual fork in an outlet.

“There you are!” Frank’s got an untamable smile on his face–his hair is impeccably gelled back, his white tuxedo tailored to fit like a glove. The sight of him, so close to everything he’s ever wanted, brings tears to your eyes. “Wow, you two look amazing.”

“Hey. Thanks.” You’re fighting with all your strength to keep your voice even and calm despite the compliment. The reality of your father’s happily ever after comes crashing in and you’ve never felt so proud. “First look time?”

“Yeah,” he confirms with a nod. “Is Bill–?”

“Dressin’,” Joel answers after clearing his throat. “I’ll bring ’im out when he’s done.”

“Perfect, thank you.” Frank takes your hand to lead you outside, but not before you look over your shoulder at Joel. He looks thoroughly disheveled despite his sharp appearance–you’ve gotten under his skin. Good.

Thank god for waterproof make-up because you nearly lose your whole face during the first look. Not that you’re wearing much, but it’s enough that it’s jeopardized by the tears your treacherous eyes shed despite trying in vain to will them away.

You’ve never been so happy for two people before. You’ve never seen two people more in love. In their matching white tuxes, with their matching watery eyes, as they turn to greet each other for the first time today, you know that Bill and Frank are a forever thing. It brings you a sense of peace that you never knew was possible.

At some point, you become conscious of the fact that you’re holding Joel’s hand. You know you probably shouldn’t, that you could get both of you in serious trouble–but he’s not pulling away, so neither do you.

The true test of your mascara comes during the ceremony–it passes the test with flying colors, which is truly impressive considering the tsunami it has to hold up against. You’ve never really been a wedding cryer, although you suppose no one would blame you for this one. You’re hardly the only person walking away with tissues to their eyes. Bill and Frank have loved so hard and fought for so long in order to obtain this day–it’s nothing short of incredible to see them finally seal their union with vows.

Before the reception, you pop into the bridal lounge to make sure you’re still presentable. A couple tissues later and you’re good to go, but the sound of the door opening and the lock clicking into place stops you in your tracks.

Joel’s standing there, looking like a dream. Curls slightly disheveled from the wind, top two buttons of his shirt undone with his bowtie hanging out of his jacket pocket. His eyes are slightly red-rimmed, albeit not as bad as yours.

His breath seems to catch when he sees you–he clears his throat before whispering, “Hey.”

For a long moment, your tongue is too heavy to speak. Every ounce of desire from earlier comes rushing back in a flash flood of emotion. It’s just you and him and tension so palpable you could grab ahold of it.

“H-hey,” you breathe. Earlier, you were ready to do something drastic. Now, all the familiar doubts come crashing back in. Are all these feelings one-sided? Were you just seeing what you wanted to see? The feeling of his hand in yours is burned into your palm. Does he feel it too?

“I think it went pretty well,” he hums. His hands are tucked into his pockets, thumbs twitching unconsciously as if he’s nervous.

“It was perfect,” you agree.

For a moment that seems to last a lifetime, you both stand toeing the line. It’s right there, unseen but waiting to be crossed. You don’t know if either of you have the courage it takes to step over it.

And then he moves; he breaks the tenuous balance of platonic and something more by closing the distance between you.

“You really do look amazin’,” he breathes, hands clenching indecisively at his sides. “I mean, you always do, but–”

You grab him before he can finish his sentence. ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart’ is blaring on the outdoor speakers as your lips finally meet his. It’s been weeks, maybe even months, of dreaming about this moment. It’s better than you ever could’ve imagined.

The world fades away as his breath becomes yours. There’s nothing but the feeling of his tongue sweeping across your bottom lip and his hands gripping your waist and his curls tickling your forehead. Nothing but the sound of his deep groan and the desperate thrum of his heartbeat underneath your palm as it slides up his chest. Nothing but finally feeling complete.

“W-we shouldn’t…” he murmurs, but he doesn’t dare pull away. His steps sound like cannonfire as he backs you up against the wall, a march towards something deliciously irreversible as his tight grip on your waist bunches the fabric of your dress up. Nothing has ever felt as right as his entire body surrounding and swallowing you this way.

“I want to,” you breathe against his lips. “Do you?”

“God, yes.”

Your arms come up to wrap around his neck and tug him closer, desperately wanting every inch of his body pressed up against you. Just as he’s starting to pull the skirt of your dress up, the song outside changes to ‘Don’t Stand So Close to Me’, strangely apt but also a reminder that you don’t have time. You made this playlist yourself–you know that there’s only three more songs after this one before you’re supposed to be ready for the bridal party entrance to the reception.

“Joel…” you moan out. “Joel, we have to be quick.”

“How quick?” He questions between searing kisses down the length of your neck.

“Ten minutes at the very most.”

“Shit,” he grumbles. He doesn’t pull away though–if anything, he pushes you back harder against the wall. “You still wanna do this?”

As much as you want to say yes, as much as you want to say fuck the reception, you can’t do that to Frank and Bill. “You think ten minutes is enough time?”

“If I can’t make you come in ten minutes I’ll eat my own fist.”

It makes you shiver in conjunction with the way his hand slides feather-light up your thigh.

Even the ghosting touch of his calloused fingertips on your sensitive skin has you aching for more. “Jesus Christ, you’re gonna drive me crazy.”

The cocky bastard has the audacity to actually wink at you. “That’s the plan, sweetheart.”

You drag his lips back to yours with a renewed sense of desperation, relishing the gentle scratch of his trimmed beard against your chin and under your palms. “It’s definitely working.”

“Good.”

You know this is territory that you probably shouldn’t be crossing into, not when he’s twenty years older than you and he’s your new step-dad's best friend, but you can’t be brought to care when those deliciously rough fingertips are slipping under the hem of your panties.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he grumbles against your lips. “She’s soakin’ for me.”

“A-always is,” you gasp out. 

His fingers sweep through your folds, gathering as much slick as he can to swirl around your sensitive clit. He smirks at the way your hands tighten on him even at the lightest of touches.

“That how you like it, sweetheart? Nice and gentle?” He presses a little firmer and a grin spreads over his face at the gasp you let out. “Oh, that’s it.”

“Joel, please…” Your hands move to his arms, squeezing tighter than you probably should but you can’t help it when he’s touching you like this. It’s exactly what you need and he knows it–he watches your face for every little indication that he’s doing a good job.

“Please what?” He purrs quietly. “What do you need?”

You could go on like this for hours, you’re sure–and you’re sure he’d be more than willing. You could stay here in his arms forever and let him work you over until there’s nothing left in your head but his name.

The song outside changes again, and you know forever will have to wait.

“Fuck me,” you plead. “Need you.”

“It’s gonna be tight, sweetheart.” You’d think he was being overly confident if you couldn’t feel the size of the bulge pressing against your thigh.

“That’s okay. Please.”

“Alright, sweetheart.” In a flash he’s got his belt undone and your greedy hands are more than happy to assist in shoving those perfectly pressed pants down his sturdy thighs.

You can’t help the gasp that bubbles out with the sight of him. He’s big. There’s no debate. The flushed tip of him is peeking through mouth-watering foreskin, red and flushed as if angry it’s not inside you already. You’re devastated you don’t have time to take that thick length into your mouth, to make him shudder and shake until he’s begging to fill you.

Later, you remind yourself.

“Still sure about this?” He asks, tone no longer brimming with the urgency and arrogance from just a few moments prior. He searches your eyes intimately for any hint of hesitation–the last thing he wants to do is to push you.

You’ve never wanted anyone more.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please, Joel.”

“Easy, honey. I’ve gotcha.” The hand between your thighs moves to coat him in your slick–for a moment, you’re mesmerized at the sight of his big hand working over his cock. “Gotta tell me if anythin’ doesn’t feel good, ‘kay?”

“I will, I swear, just please–”

The rest of your sentence gets lost in a breathless moan with the first gentle thrust of his hips. Even just the tip is a stretch–one that has your nails digging into his shirt-clad back and your thighs tightening around his waist.

“Shit, sweetie,” he purrs, voice liquid gold. “Gotta relax, gotta lemme in–”

You manage to loosen your thighs a little and it gives him the space he needs to press all the way in to the hilt–the feeling of him filling you completely is nothing but breathtaking. A broken groan tumbles from his lips–you can feel the way his breath hitches from how his forehead is pressed against yours. It’s nothing short of heady, to know that you have such a profound effect on a man you thought might be immune to you.

“Good?” He questions in a whisper. One of his hands is hooked under your left knee to keep your leg up around his waist; the other strokes absentminded patterns over your right hip, as if unconsciously soothing you.

You give him a shaky nod in response. “Good.”

The pace he sets is the most delicious kind of torture. You both know you’re in a time crunch, so Joel is more than happy to employ the most toe-curlingly relentless speed. Every slick thrust of his cock makes your eyes flutter–little breathy moans escape your lips with fervor as he pounds deep. He's hitting every single spot all at once and then some. All the while his lips trace around your neck and jaw, careful not to leave marks but whining quietly as if he’s tempted. As if he wants nothing more than to claim you in a way that everyone can see.

You moan out his name and the hand on your waist comes to help, settling between your bodies and finding that perfect rhythm from before. You’re finding out that he’s a very intuitive and quick learner–you would certainly praise him for it if you could find the breath to do so. 

The way his hips work–driving him deeper than anyone’s ever been; the way his fingers swirl–bringing you to the brink in mere minutes with the most thigh-shaking friction; the way his mouth works, sucking just light enough on the sweet spot behind your ear so as not to leave a mark… it all builds and builds and builds, leaving you breathless and trembling and teetering on the edge of pure oblivion.

“Y’feel like fuckin’ heaven,” he gasps out against your cheek. “Never gonna get enough.”

The words alone send white-hot pleasure shooting down your spine–you’ve wanted him so badly for so long, and now you know he’s wanted you too. It feels even better with that satisfaction, with the fact of winning the prize you’ve been coveting so deeply.

“Joel…” You want to tell him the million thoughts that are rushing through your head, but your lungs aren’t cooperating. 

“I know baby,” he murmurs with a particularly devastating thrust. “I know. S’okay.”

It’s too much and simultaneously not enough. You dig your nails into his shirt to tug him closer, a silent plea to get him working against that spot again. He complies without words, hitching your leg a little higher around his waist and angling his hips in a way that makes you cry out his name again.

“I’m gonna–”

“Yeah, go ‘head,” he purrs breathlessly. “Lemme feel it, come all over my cock.”

His fingers press a little firmer against your clit and that’s all you need for the knot in your stomach to unravel with blinding force. It travels through every nerve like some delicious form of spontaneous combustion, making your body shiver with the energy of it. It’s the best you’ve ever felt–you don’t think you’ll ever get enough of it, either.

“That’s it honey, holy shit…” He murmurs before finally meeting your lips again for a breathless and panting kiss. “W-where?”

For a moment, you have no clue what he could possibly be talking about. His thrusts are losing rhythm with each moment, as if he’s about to–

“Inside,” you whine out after your moment of clarity. “Please–”

“Shit,” he spits even as he drives himself impossibly deeper. “Y’sure?”

You’re not even conscious of nodding your head–all you know is that you need him completely. “It’s safe. Promise.”

“Atta girl,” he whispers. “Gonna leave you fuckin’ drippin’, won’t be able to stop feelin’ it all night–”

His head tips back as the first wave crashes over him, eyes squeezed shut and mouth dropped open as his hips grind into yours. There’s nothing short of pure ecstasy on his face with the first few ropes of cum that fill you. You’ve never seen anything quite as beautiful as the pleasure washing over this gorgeous man’s gorgeous face. Knowing that you’re the cause of all this nearly sends you over the edge all over again.

He grunts as he shoves himself a little deeper, eager to feel every inch of you as he unwinds. “Christ, honey… squeezin’ me so goddamn tight.”

“Not my fault you’re huge.”

He chuckles at that, staying seated deep within your walls for a moment longer so he can kiss you again. It’s lost its edge of desperation, but it makes up for it with an overwhelming note of sweetness. His hand cups your jaw to guide the angle and once again you’re struck by that overwhelming sense of rightness. It’s like you were meant to be here, meant to take everything he gives you and more, meant to love him.

The song outside changes to ‘Every Breath You Take’, the song before the entrance song, and you spring to action.

“Shit, Joel, we’ve got to go.”

He pulls out with an overdramatic groan, as if it hurts him to be separated now that he knows what it feels like to be joined. You can feel the drip start even before his hand comes to fix your panties, but there’s hardly enough time to worry about that.

“How’s my make-up?”

“Perfect, darlin’. Not a thing outta place.”

“Thank god for waterproof,” you chuckle as you straighten your dress.

His dark eyes meet yours as your hands smooth out his rumpled shirt–there’s still so much swirling behind them, so much promise of things to come.

“We’ve gotta go,” you repeat when he halts by the door.

“Just a sec,” he murmurs. And then he pulls you in for one final, saccharine sweet kiss. “Come to my room w’me tonight.”

“Okay,” you promise–you’re surprised you can keep your voice even when just the question makes your heart skip a beat.

“Thank you.” It’s genuine, earnest. It makes your heart skip another beat.

He takes your hand before unlocking and opening the door, and he doesn’t let it go until he absolutely has to.

➔ beta: @schnarfer and @futuraa-free thank you my darlings <3 ; dividers: @saradika-graphics

➔ Want to see more from me in the future? Follow @freelancearsonist-updates and turn on post notifications to be notified when I post new fics!

➔ Want to support me? Please reblog this fic! It helps boost it in the algorithm and gives it more circulation no matter what your follower count is :) any feedback or comment is always greatly appreciated!!

[ltleflrt]

Figuring out I'm on the ace spectrum was so difficult because I have always been a horny bitch. I knew what sex was at a fairly young age, because I'd asked my mom and she's one of those good parents who'll answer questions like those, and as I grew older and would ask more complex questions, her answers would evolve along with my curiosity and understanding of the world. And I remember having fantasies as young as 9 or 10 years old, even if they were hella vague and nothing close to what sex actually is lol

So as I became a teenager, and all my friends' focus turned from playing with dolls to flirting with boys, I automatically thought I was attracted to boys. And I paid more attention to Cute Boys than I did to Cute Girls, because girls were just nice to look at while boys were People To Have Crushes On. Because of heteronormativity. Looking back on it now, I know there were girls I liked to stare at just as intently as boys, although less often because I wasn't trying to pay attention. And I certainly didn't fantasize about girls because I started reading romance novels in 5th grade, so I was fantasizing about male romantic partners because that was the fiction I was consuming. I didn't even realize fantasizing about girls was possible until I was 17, and I had a few "am I a lesbian" internal crises for years because of it.

So when I did start having sex, I had A LOT OF IT with SO MANY different guys, and eventually a couple of women once I started accepting that bisexuality was real. But it was never really fulfilling. Not like my fantasies were. Not like my books were. I was slutty because sex was fun, I was horny, there were plenty of options so I kept searching for that satisfaction I was craving.

Getting married was a relief (even though it turns out I'm aro-spec too lol) because I was tired of hunting, and even if sex with my husband was meh, at least I had someone around to scratch that itch if I had it, and he didn't mind if I occasionally took care of things on my own because I'd read an especially hot scene in a romance.

I learned about asexuality in my early 20s, but I brushed it off. Couldn't be me, I'm far too horny for that. But I think that comes from the fact that everything you hear about Aces is attached to sex-repulsion or sex-indifference. I wasn't either of those things. I was horny all the dang time. I was fantasizing about sex all the dang time. I figured actual sex was meh because my imagination was so vivid that real life could never match up. Which could be true to an extent, but I think not as much as popular opinion would have us believe. If fantasy was really that much better for everyone, then I think we'd have less incels and unplanned pregnancies than we do.

In my 30s I finally saw people talking about The Spectrum, and I started examining my past, and I figured out I wasn't really attracted to anyone I had sex with. I do occasionally find someone attractive; there are men and women and enbies who make my skin feel tight and give me a little wave of lightheadedness lol... but it's always always the fantasy that gets me really going. If given the opportunity I wouldn't have sex with any of those people. Thank you, but no thank you, I'd rather just imagine it than physically participate in the act with them.

(Ok I might go down on them, but that's less about wanting sex, and more about being able to add them to my Tally. Hell yeah I want to brag about making *insert hot person* have an orgasm. There's PRIDE in that kind of accomplishment lol)

I have a lot of respect for aces that are not horny. I understand it even if I don't share the sentiment. And I feel like most of them understand me even if they don't share the sentiment. There's a solidarity between us.

Until I go into a fandom tag for a character that the aces have glommed onto because they're canonically ace or headcanoned as ace. Good lord, the non-horny aces can turn into downright vicious bastards if a horny ace sexualizes their blorbo.

This post is for them.

Horny aces exist. Please look up "autochorissexual, lithosexual, and aegosexual."

Refer to those definitions in regards to romantic attraction as well as sexual attraction.

Some aces may not fall into one of those definitions, because asexuality is a spectrum, but they may still be horny.

Horny aces are not disrespecting you by enjoying being horny on main. We promise we'll wash the stickiness off our hands before we hold your hands in queer solidarity.

And most importantly: Your blorbo is fictional and does not need to be defended from icky sexuality. They exist in an infinite multiverse, so your blorbo and my blorbo are not the same, even if they appear to be on the surface.

AND:

This post is also for the people who are confused about themselves because they're horny but don't actually feel attraction. You're not crazy, you're not wishy washy, you're not "waiting for the right person to come along" (unless you are, in which case I hope you find them). You're just a thin strip of color on a massive rainbow that holds more unique shades than anyone can perceive at a glance.

You're valid. You're one of us too.

And don't be mean to the non-horny aces. Tag your smut so they can avoid it. (But actually so I can find it lol)

[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

[songbirdseung]

pinky ring / sim jaeyun

synopsis: jake made you a promise to marry you when you two were toddlers. he would fake propose until he really did get down on one knee.

pairing: childhood besties jake x reader

wc: 1.1k

To your parents, it was all good fun. Seeing their child being proposed to by their childhood best friend at their favorite beach. Documentation was highly important to them, filming little you and little jake holding a candy ring pop in his hand, asking your hand in marriage. To them, it was adorable.

For young child you, you were petrified. At the time, your dad just gave a small talk on how to stay away from boys and you're definitely too young to get into a relationship. This happened when you called the actor on scene handsome when you were having a family movie night.

"We are too young Jake" pouting your lips, feeling bad for rejecting his proposal. Jake shrugs and hands you the ring pop anyway. "Fine, I'll just wait and get you a real ring".

That didn't last long because fast forward to the next year, he does it again. He has done it so much that for the next few following years, it had become an inside joke to everyone in your immediate family.

"You have rejected me for 4 years now" crossing his arms in a fit, Jake looks at you disappointed. "Maybe because we are only 12 years old?"

At this point, you aren't sure if he's doing this because he really wants to marry you or just to tease you and lead any guy interested in you far far away. Remembering all the instances where a boy would approach you during lunch and sit next to you and confess and say that they think you' re cute. There then comes Jake, wearing a smug smirk and says something along the lines of "I'm actually her future husband, please go away".

It makes you think about how you could never get away from Jake and his antics.

Even when you guys reached your teenage years, almost reaching adulthood, Jake never dropped the fake proposal joke. Like on your 19th birthday, at the restaurant he took you both to, he claims how he's your boyfriend and he's planning to propose soon, the waiter thought he was weird for saying that he wanted to propose soon with you sitting right there but nonetheless, he gave you both free desserts.

You thought at by the age of 14, he'd stop since you both are going through puberty, his feelings would change and he'd drop it due to his own pride and embarrassment, but no.

Now you both were 20, if you had to count how many fake proposals Jake has done over the years, it would reach 100.

"You can't say that we are too young, we're both legal adults and we basically known each other our whole lives." You turn over to him and flick his forehead, causing him wince in pain and shoo you away from him. "You're mean"

"You're the one that wants to marry me, so get used to it"

"Oh, so you're playing along now" He removes his hand from his head and pokes your side. "After years, you're finally warming up to the idea"

"Keep that up, I won't be anymore" Once you said that you realize how you didn't even deny it. Looking back at Jake who went back to playing video games, you take in his appearance and guide your eyes to follow the lines that make his side profile.

Jake was good looking, you knew that. He's always been the apple of your eye since you two were kids, then as you got to know him, his humor, personality, and behavior kind of sealed the deal for you.

"If you keep staring at me, I might disintegrate."

"Then, who is going to marry me?"

"We're still on that? I thought you didn't want to?"

"Make me your girlfriend and I'll rethink it" Now it was your turn to cause a ruckus in Jake's mind. He pauses the game and looks over to you, reading your expression wondering if you were serious or not.

That night, Jake stayed over. Unlike the other past sleepovers that you two had, this one was different because the way you cuddle into him now, it felt different. He was always yours and until now, just a different kind. He was now your boyfriend, not boy-friend.

With your dynamic and bond with Jake, it felt like sunshine and rainbows most of the times, being around each other all the time and knowing each other too well, you always found ways to fix things or any miscommunication that would come along.

Transitioning to relationship from friendship was surprisingly easy from the outside perspective but the thing with you and Jake was he was always a gentleman and treated you right and how you deserved to be treated, and of course vice versa.

When you told your mom the news, she did not show any surprised reaction, simply telling you how she saw it coming and was just waiting for this moment to happen, you dad shared a similar reaction, happy that it was Jake to be the one you were dating.

Fast forward to a whole year of dating Jake. People would say that you two were like a fairytale love, match made in heaven, meant for each other, all that. "Hey yn, maybe you should do that trend where you call Jake your husband"

"I'm pretty sure he's already seen that on tiktok, no?"

Still, even if he did, you were going to do it just to see his reaction. That same day, you two meet up after your last class ended. Waiting for you somewhere in the university's campus, you run up to him and give him a hug. "Someone missed me?"

In the car ride home, you guys both agreed to stop by your favorite restaurant and get some take out. Which was a perfect time to put your little prank in action. Just like everyone else, after placing your order, you ask Jake what he wants and tell the waiter. "Then my husband would like ___"

Once the waiter leaves, you finally take notice of Jake who is wide eyed, staring at you in awe. "There's no way you just called me that" To say he was a lovesick puppy after that was an understatement.

But now since you called him that, you have to keep calling him that. Because if you call him or introduce him as your boyfriend, he'll act surprised and startled. "Are you asking for a divorce?" "Do you not love me anymore?" "I thought I was your husband?" to name a few.

"I'm gonna have to propose now, for real this time"

[erwinsvow]

knocked up too young and wearing a glittery diamond ring on your left hand, you had settled nicely into the role of mrs. cameron. it wasn’t tough, not a hard position to play in the slightest—rafe, or rather your husband—made everything nice and easy for you.

it seemed like it was his biggest desire come true, making sure you and his little girl were taken care of. he liked it actually, more than he admitted, knowing the two of you were fast asleep in bed when he left for work in the morning, doing nothing but relaxing throughout the day.

in fact, he had decided the second you had tearfully confessed that you were pregnant that this was the sort of life you were meant for, the kind of life he was going to give you. you were so scared, he can remember it like it was yesterday—your watery eyes and wet cheeks, the way your hands shook when you pulled out the test to show him.

“i-i-i’m so sorry, i, i thought the pills were enough, everyone says it’s enough-” you were stammering and crying your way into exhausation, something he definitely didn’t like. 

“s’okay, kid. nothin’ to cry about.” he was formulating his plan already, being proactive in all matters, thinking ahead to marriage licenses and car seats while you stared down at the positive stick in your palm.

“you’re.. you’re not mad, rafe?” the way you look at him, the world stops spinning. why would he be mad?

“hey, s’done,” he says, hands on your shoulders to steady you, bringing you to the edge of the bed to take a seat. he takes the pregnancy test from your hands, looking down at it himself. “it already happened. can’t take it back. no point in cryin’ over it.” 

when you look up with even more tears in your eyes, he’s half convinced he’s said the wrong thing—but it doesn’t faze him, he keeps going.

“hey, hey. what, you thought i wouldn’t take care of you? this is my kid too.”

“i know, i just, i thought you wouldn’t be okay.. with it. having it.” that’s the first and only time he got stern with you through this whole pregnancy.

“hey, don’t talk like that. this is our baby. there’s no question ‘bout havin’ it.” you nod up at him, tears drying as you steady yourself, regain a little composure knowing rafe’s not mad about this little accident. “y’okay now?” you nod again. “good, call your parents. tell ‘em we’re getting married soon.” 

“wh-rafe!” 

but, like how most things were with rafe, he called the shots and you listened. the two of you got married shortly after, before you were even showing. anyone who even attempted to comment on the hastiness of everything shut up the second rafe stared at them.

you’d be a liar to say you didn’t like it, a fool if you didn’t appreciate how rafe was to you.

he stepped up in every way, better than you could have even tried to put together in your imagination. a place was purchased and had slowly started to become home, with a crib that rafe assembled by himself—though it had taken hours and ended up with the instruction papers all crumbled up in a corner—and baby proofed cabinets and sockets. you laugh watching rafe try to install the baby gate on the staircase.

“you know that’s for when they start crawling, right?” you giggle, a hand on your very pregnant belly.

“shut up. m’being proactive. gonna have no time once she actually gets here and we’re runnin’ around changing diapers and makin’ formula and shit.” 

you’re only a touch surprised with how well-versed he is with all the baby stuff, though you appreciate it more and more since you’re still a little confused and overwhelmed. he makes it all easy, from the pregnancy cravings he runs around to find for you to the pretty pink walls in the nursery. he even satisfies all your other cravings, like around month six when there was nothing you wanted more than rafe's dick in every position you could think of.

when his daughter actually comes into the world, the two of you are a mess of emotions and thoughts, but there’s only one rafe really cares about. when can he give you another one?

it doesn’t take long for him to start trying again—trying to convince you that the two of you can handle two, that little kids need siblings their age. the baby’s only six months old but he’s convinced it’ll be better to have them all young at the same time rather than waiting—at least that’s the line he feeds you.

“no, rafe, they’re gonna be like irish twins. it’s so embarassing,” you say next to him in bed, staring up at your husband. 

“what’s that?”

“when you have two babies that aren’t even a year apart.”

“oh. that’s a thing? good, at least there’s a name for it. i’ll get you a book on it, since that’s what we’re doin’.”

and try as you might, even you can’t resist rafe for long, not when he’s taking such good care of you and just wants to give you another baby with his blue eyes and your pretty hair. you end up in the same position that got you into this whole situation—your knees folded to your chest and eyes rolling back while rafe slams into you. 

“don’t worry, baby,” he breathes into your ear, low and quiet since the baby’s sleeping in the other room. “i’ll get y’knocked up again. won’t have to think about a thing in this world except my kids.”

it’s a shame you get pregnant so quickly—rafe was so fun when his only thought revolved around fucking you full of his cum. 

“well, s’not gonna be irish twins. too far apart,” rafe says, looking at the photos from the doctor’s appointment.

“no, it’s just regular twins.” you don’t think you’ve ever seen rafe so happy.

[cozage]

hii!! can i request for the event?? had this weird little scenario where a little kid goes up to reader, completely in love and confessing their love (even tho reader doesnt know who this little kid is) and the op men just look at what's happening with either a "😬" or "😠" reaction. any characters for this scenario would work but if you could put zoro as part of the 3 that would be great

Child Crushes Send me an event request!

Characters: fem reader x Zoro, Sanji, Shanks Total word count: 600

Zoro

“You are so beautiful!” A child screamed, slamming into you and wrapping his arms around your midrift tightly. “I love you!” 

“Hey!” Zoro shouted, reaching for the kid. “Get off her!”

“Zoro!” you chided, shielding the kid from your boyfriend's wrath. “It’s okay!”

“You are the most amazing lady I’ve ever seen! Your smile is radiant, and you are kinder than anyone I’ve ever met!”

You laughed, slowly prying the kid off of you. You were about to bend down to talk to him, but Zoro beat you to it. 

“Listen brat,” he hissed. “Go find another beautiful lady! This one is mine.”

The kid stuck his tongue at Zoro. “If you keep being so mean, she’ll leave you for a real man like me!”

“What did you-!”

“Zoro, stop!” you giggled, pulling him away. You looked back at the little boy, giving him a wink. “It was nice to meet you!”

“I’ll see you soon, lovely lady!”

You intertwined your arm with Zoro’s again, laughing at his outburst. “Wanna tell me what that was about?”

“He reminded me of that stupid cook,” Zoro groaned. “Besides, that kid needs to buzz off. You’re already taken.”

Sanji

“Excuse me miss,” a small voice came from behind you, and you turned around. 

He was young. Probably around 6 or 7, with caramel brown hair and clear blue eyes.

“Hi there,” you said, breaking away from Sanji’s hold so you could squat down so you were at eye level with him. 

“I just wanted to tell you are the most beautiful woman alive.” He held out a wildflower with small white petals. “Will you marry me?”

You giggled at his request. His bluntness reminded you of someone else you knew. 

“I’m flattered. How about you come find me when you’re older?” you challenged. 

He pushed the flower into your hands. “I will. I’ll never forget you! Until then, here’s something to remember me by!”

He took off, his cheeks pink with embarrassment. You laughed and stood up, your hand returning to Sanji’s. 

“You have competition,” you teased.

Sanji hummed pleasantly, placing a soft kiss on your cheek. “He has good taste in women. Can’t argue with that.”

Shanks

You unfolded the note the little boy had given you and read the scribbles across the paper. 

Please make my day and kiss me. You are so beautiful and kind. I love you.

Shanks peered over your shoulder, looking at the note, and burst out into laughter. 

“Shanks!” you scolded under your breath. “Don’t laugh!”

“Look kid, only a real man gets to kiss this lady.” He planted a messy kiss on your cheek to prove his point. 

The kid looked at you and him, and then ran off. 

“Shanks!”

“He’ll be back, don’t worry.”

Shanks was right. A few hours later, the kid was standing at the end of the bar, peeking out and watching you from afar. 

“You wanna impress her?” Shanks asked, creeping up behind the boy. “Give her a rose and ask her for a kiss. To her face. Like a man.”

“Will that work?” the boy whispered, glancing back at you nervously. 

“That’s how I got her to kiss me,” he admitted. “Good news for you, I even have a spare rose.”

The little boy walked up to you, his knees visibly shaking as he gripped the rose in his hands. 

“I got this for you,” he said softly. “Will you kiss me?”

Your eyes darted to Shanks, a smile dancing across your lips. 

“Thank you,” you said, taking the flower from him and giving him a small peck on the cheek. “I’d be honored to kiss such a polite young man.”

[calmlb]

It’s been clear that the Tanizakis aren’t siblings from the very beginning

here’s some evidence now that it’s been confirmed canon…

everyone who’s read irl Tanizaki’s book knew that Junichiro & Naomi weren’t siblings as soon as they introduced themselves

BUT just because the Tanizakis aren’t siblings doesn’t mean you can’t feel uncomfortable about them. if you feel uncomfortable, GOOD. that’s exactly what they want

the Tanizakis, Mori— they all use these disturbing ruses to disarm or distract people in order to protect themselves, or to accomplish their goals. this is a writing device that asagiri commonly employs as a way to parallel the irl literature (it’s actually ingenious)

there are 4 main indicators that have always made it clear to me that Junichiro & Naomi are not siblings:

1. most obviously— their character designs. Harukawa is extremely intentional with character designs, & she very intentionally made Naomi & Junichiro look nothing alike

their eye shapes are purposely different

their color palettes are contrasting

even their differing styles of clothing have meaning

this was all done so that the audience could PLAINLY see that they’re not related— so that WE know that they’re lying when they say they ARE related

2. how the people around them respond to their act.

the general reaction is “don’t question it”— which is exactly what they want. “be distracted by how uncomfortable you feel so that you look away from what we’re hiding” (this is likely a protective measure)

3. most importantly, this is meant to parallel irl Tanizaki’s book “Naomi,” where the main character Joji picks up Naomi to raise her into his ideal woman, but since she's so young (& a minor) they call each other cousins (Joji makes no sexual advances on young Naomi btw)

however, his plan backfires because when Naomi gets older & they get married, she flips the script on him & manipulates HIM so that he's under her thumb (which is why bsd Tanizaki is at a domineering Naomi's mercy). Joji let her have her way because of his masochistic tendencies

4. lastly is the emphasis that Asagiri and the Tanizakis themselves put on calling each other siblings.

over & over, it’s “my brother this” & “my sister that”

like they’re desperately trying to convince us that it’s true (“don’t let your lying eyes deceive you”)

here are just a few of many examples from the light novels…

again, if you’ve read “Naomi” you knew that Junichiro & Naomi weren’t siblings as soon as they introduced themselves

just like if you’ve read irl Mori’s works, it’s clear that bsd Mori isn’t a pedophile

just like if you’ve read No Longer Human you know that Dazai’s an unreliable narrator. he makes you think he’s a bad person bc he believes he’s a bad person, but those around him see him differently (btw this doesn’t mean he’s never done anything “bad,” though bsd isn’t about morality— but that’s another discussion)

anyway, i’m so excited for the Tanizakis backstory to be revealed so that we can better understand why they use this defense!!

also let this be a reminder to READ THE LITERATURE if you’re able to!! even reading synopses & analyses of the coordinating books makes bsd make much more sense 🥹

reminder that this how you’re supposed to react while reading bsd:

also, if you’re interested in a post explaining how Mori isn’t a pedo, i wrote this analysis on twt. OR you can read this document that one of my moots sent me (remember: analyzing a character does NOT mean you condone any actions they may or may not commit!)