“The Arrangement” | Smile Entity x Female! Reader | Smile 2
Notes: Takes place before the ending of smile 2. The entity joyrides Skye’s body a lot longer than he does in the movie. This is changing quite a bit of the events of the movie so its cohesive and makes sense. Also the entity gets referred to a thing/it in the movie but we’re giving him he/him and she/her pronouns when Skye’s skin and body is being referenced. The smile entity has his Smile 1 movie appearance. Word count: 5,614
Warnings: tw really sensitive topics which I can’t directly name on tumblr, you can’t fix him either, dom/sub vibes, p in v sex, smile entity has male genitalia, vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), sugar baby/sugar daddy dynamic, size difference, blood and gore, kinda gross, Body snatching, physical smile demon, reality manipulation entity does reality manipulating things, religious tones, Skye Riley used as a puppet, established relationship, somewhat dub con kinda, manipulation, sick and twisted fluff, morally gray reader.
Your fingers trembled over your phone screen. All you had to do was send the message, you really wanted to, it was already typed and waiting for your thumb to hit send. Any other time you would have hit the blue button with no hesitation.
This just wasn’t any other time though, the guilt has been getting to you lately. This life you’ve lived within the past five months has been drastically different. The expensive phone you held within your fidgety hands was so new you didn’t even know all the functions yet. Just one of the many spoils of your special arrangement.
Maybe this night he wouldn’t stay as long as he did last time. He… It… Whatever… The entity has never clarified it’s existence or given you an official name to refer to it as so you made your best educated guess.
Regardless of what it was, it wore her face. Her skin. Whether the real Skye Riley was in there or not was unbeknownst to you. You prayed she wasn’t, if she was that was just more guilt to add to your overwhelmingly tall burden of it.
If you tried to play this special arrangement off like you were some damsel in distress who was forced into it then you’d be a liar. No you weren’t forced, but this thing — he, made you an offer so hard to refuse.
Your life is spared, spared as long as you let it sift through your client documents at work for the best victims to feed off of. He’d feed on their guilt, grief, and trauma. Slowly killing them from the inside like an emotional parasite.
Their bodies used like meat puppets while he paraded around in flesh that didn’t belong to him. When there was nothing left for him to take, he’d spread his infection. He’d latch on to a new person, and he’d joy ride them all the same.
You were complacent in his chaos. Chaos was what you deemed it to be, much to his disagreement. “You know I have to eat too pretty girl.” That was the excuse he’d give you to justify both of your actions.
The guilt you felt only enticed the insatiable void that he was. After the first few victims he could see the trauma build within you. Tensions only arose further once the local police department investigated the therapy clinic that employed you.
Just what were you saying to your clientele? They all seemed to just crack under pressure and put an end to their own lives. Leaving this earth in the most brutal ways anyone could imagine, and you were at the center of it all.
That entity, demon, eldritch being, whatever he was, got off on watching your own spiral into darkness. The light in your eyes diminished with the more his body count raised. If he kept it up at this rate you’d surely lose your license, that’s if you weren’t in an active police investigation already.
Tired of contemplating, you sent the text. ‘Are you busy?’ Within seconds, your message was read and you could see that ‘Skye’ was typing. ‘No, are you lonely?’
Of course he would ask that. The entity already knew the answer to that question. Part of this arrangement was to move you several cities away from your family. He placed you in this big house in a neighborhood you would have been far too out of your tax bracket to be living in.
Unfortunately for your diminishing list of clients you were still able to commute back and forth to the mental health clinic for work. Your fourteen year old car was replaced with an updated version from the current year.
This skin he wore, Skye’s skin, gave him the means to provide for you in this way. Flashy trinkets, jewels, and clothes that you would have never acquired in this lifetime without the entity.
It was the same skin he wore when he first earned your trust and twisted a knife in it. It started when you took up your first grief case after weeks of avoiding them. At first, you thought you were counseling a grieving Skye Riley following the anniversary of the death of her boyfriend.
He made his flesh puppet cry on your office floor and then confide in you. A completely believable act on your end. The weekly sessions with her were far from abnormal. Then over time Skye’s demeanor changed. She had this open and blank stare that seemed to linger just far too long for you.
Her eyes were glassy and glazed over, face supporting a smile so wide you were sure it was uncomfortable. ‘She’ came to see you often after hours breaking far too many policies you had to abide by. The chats were friendly and casual, but you were growing uncomfortable.
One day, abruptly, she stood up from her chair in one of your sessions and tipped over a glass vase on your desk. That vase held an orchid that you had been taking care of for your late coworker. It meant something to you. She picked up a piece of broken glass and pressed the sharp end into the inner cornea of her left eye.
Blood jetted from the wound in absurd directions until it sealed itself entirely as if it were never there. Smiling ever so widely, her eyes wild with a wicked predatory glee. Her clothes and your floor bore the red evidence of the injury and yet she stood before you uninjured. It felt like he performed test run on your mental state to see how much you were able to tolerate without collapsing.
‘She’ revealed her true nature then. This wasn’t Skye Riley. It was her body but within her was something far older and so terrible that your brain couldn't even begin to fathom or interpret it. He threatened to spread this infection to you unless you helped him feed.
He devoured distress and agony and needed a steady supply of it until he was done with this city and moved on. In an ultimatum of your life over others you chose survival. In a way it was still your decision to make, you very well could have died with your own morality. It didn't take long for his original demands of you to become something far more sinister.
Your thumbs tapped at your phone screen again for a response, desperation seemed to flow through your finger tips. ‘Can you please come see me?’ You were already dwelling on the past so lying wouldn’t do you any good mentally. The past horrified you, and yet here you were, seeking out his attention.
The gray bubble with triple dots appeared on the lower half of your screen indicating that thing was typing. It stayed that way for a while until a simple ‘sure’ displayed. Toying with your fragile emotions was unmistakingly the entity’s expertise.
Especially when you were at your most vulnerable. It was often like he’d flip through every tactic in his twisted book of power and control just for things to throw at you. Each method seemingly hurts you more than the last.
That ‘sure’ just struck you the wrong way. Gave the impression that you were disturbing him and he had much better things to do. You scrolled up to previous messages for the last time you had a night like this.
‘You know I couldn’t resist you if I tried.’ That was his response the last time. Just what happened between then and now? You shouldn’t care, he’s just using you. Right. Finally an intelligent thought appeared.
A liar was what he was. This deceiver, faker, and manipulator took control of your life. You were just a naive fish on a hook that he intended to dangle for as long as he could.
You clutched your phone tight while you thought of an excuse to express that you’ve changed your mind. The grip you had was so tight you could see the whites of your knuckles straining against the case. Then you started to type.
‘How long until you get here?’ No. What were you doing? That’s not at all what you wanted to say. Or was it? Your head felt painfully blurry, like the midst of a migraine was incoming.
You didn’t start getting these migraines until five months ago. The stress, all that guilt, it all took a toll on you. The phone dinged as you watched a white Mercedes pull into your driveway.
From your second story window you could get a view of a shadow leaving the driver's seat and approaching your front door. Within moments there was a knock. Since when did he ever knock, he had the keys to this place. You opened the door and stared down at the floor rather than at him.
“Hi!” So energetic as always.
“You got here fast.” The disappointment in your tone went ignored.
“Not a lot of paparazzi out tonight. Maybe on the way back I’ll get my photos taken. Honey, I love wearing this skin.”
Your stare left from the floor to pan up to him. This body he wore, Skye’s body looked so put together. She looked so pretty, her makeup was done professionally and her hair styled. This confused you. All of it did.
“Oh this? You know I have to keep up appearances.”
He puppeted Skye’s hand to take a long swipe across his face and smeared the makeup everywhere. You flinched at the hand movement and he reveled in that. You didn’t like this at all. Right?
He then simply slipped past you to wash the remnants of the makeup off in your kitchen sink. The runny mascara on Skye’s face brought up an unwelcome memory for you. It was unwelcome, but it would serve as a reminder to never forget who you were dealing with.
Your brain could easily process that memory as if it happened yesterday. It was on a night where you worked late at the mental health clinic. All counseling sessions had finished for the day, so you were getting unfinished paperwork done.
A client arrived at the entrance of the clinic banging on the class and demanding to be let in. You hesitated, if he was afflicting her then helping her would put you in danger. This was around the time where you found out if needed he could switch vessels or meat suits to feed and return to the preferable one.
The black runny mascara down her face smudged against the glass doors as she cried against it. Her face was pressed so hard against it you worried it might shatter from sheer force. Her hands slid down the glass and she let out a wailing scream.
She then pointed to something behind you and when you turned around there was nothing there. She pleaded and begged you to let her in, the more you denied the farther you could feel your heart sinking into the pit of your stomach,
She lifted up her shirt to show all the cuts and deep knicks going down her chest. Some were still fresh, but others appeared a few days old. Down on the left side of her lower stomach there was bold dark red etching.
It was your name, carved into her flesh in capital letters. Each wound is at least a quarter of an inch deep.
“I didn’t do any of this! Please you have to believe me. There’s someone living inside me.”
Your heart broke for her, but you weren’t going to lose your life behind it. After telling her to leave before you call the cops you broke down in tears. There was nothing you could have done. That night she spent begging and pleading to be let in was her last.
The entity turned around within Skye’s body to look at you, their face dripping wet with water. His usual grin projected through Skye’s face faltering for a moment before returning.
You fixed your face to remove the scowl you had from the thought of that horrid memory. Yet it still wasn’t enough for you to do the right thing.
“Better? I mean aren’t you happy I’m still in Skye since you hate it so much when I switch meat sacks.” Living, breathing, and innocent people were reduced to nothing by him only to be labeled as meat sacks.
Nothing more than viable insects to him. Insects that proved to provide a bountiful source of edible trauma and entertainment. His nonchalantness about the ordeal stopped giving you chills the more time you spent with him.
He wasn’t human, but he wore them well, wore their skins like costumes and was able to blend in efficiently amongst them. Generations of playing pretend and they were all still so beneath him. So were you, just as much physically as you were metaphorically.
The skin suit he wore approached you, hands hovering around both your hips before latching on. You could feel the fabric of your night gown pull as Skye’s hands stretched the garment. Stiletto acrylic nails mimicking claws digging into your flesh beneath the fabric.
“How about we get you into something a little more revealing?” You looked down at your silk slip with confusion. Why change your clothes if they were going to be taken off momentarily.
“What? Is it a crime now to want to play dress up with my favorite little… thing?” How condescending. You bit your lip and looked away in embarrassment knowing that label fit you perfectly.
Your eyes returned back to him and you flinched, he was now slightly closer. Face inches from yours still smiling and unreadable. Skye’s eyes were eerily void of any human emotion. When this entity wore people the first noticeable change was always their eyes. Always so glassy, dim, and wide.
You were guided up the stairs by your hand and you became painfully aware of how warm Skye’s hands were. It was always a shock of how warm these costumes of his can be. It was once a living breathing person but why were they still so warm?
While you sat on your king sized bed he looked through your wardrobe, ninety percent of it clearly being bought by him. He picked up an expensive looking red lacy matching bra and underwear set.
“I like this. It’s a wonderful reminder of how much blood and guts I’ve shed with your help. Do you like it too?” Your stomach sank as your face twisted into an upset frown. Skye’s brunette eyebrow raised in intrigue, the paranormal parasite living within her flesh clearly amused with your discomfort.
“Oh I’m just kidding, we have different senses of humor of course. Stop pouting or you’ll get wrinkles on this pretty face. Then we’ll have to get you Botox.” The lower half of your face was grasped within Skye’s hand.
It was a gentle touch by nature but you could feel the lust emanating from the physical connection. The arousal you felt was suffocating. So suffocating and heavy that you seemed to press your face further into her palm.
Her vacant brown eyes bore deeply into your own. This shared gaze was intense enough that your eyes began to tear up from the lack of blinking. You should feel ashamed for not putting a stop to this or severing your demented source of guilt.
You could have completely avoided this and died as an innocent person with morale and that upset you. It didn’t upset you enough to cure your need. Skye’s face and skin never belonged to him, yet you can’t associate it with anything other than him. You’ve never met the real Skye Riley so it terrified you with how much more comfortable it made you.
Once that intimate moment was over, you changed into your lingerie while the entity watched from your bed. Those empty eyes rolled over every inch of your body, causing goosebumps to raise against your skin.
Weeks ago from now you would have never been able to undress this easily in front of him. Perhaps it was due to the close proximity allowing the two of you to know each other better? No, you don’t know him or what he is, he’d make you off yourself in the worst way possible once this was over and he’s had his fun.
That thought seemed to spoil your mood all over again. “You know I’ve never really had the hots for humans, and I thought that all of you were disgusting little rabid animals, but you’re really doing something for me. Especially while you’re wearing red.”
Hearing this thing say things like that in Skye’s feminine voice only seemed to make you feel more uncomfortable about your situation. You made a face, prompting Skye’s face to give you a knowing look.
“Oh you don’t believe me? Still asking yourself why specifically you?” Skye’s hands picked up a stuffed bunny that your one of your child clients had given you off your nightstand. No doubt potentially feeling jealous.
“You have this strange yet beautiful ability… You’re just able to persevere through any stress and trauma that I put you through.” The head of the stuffed rabbit made a sharp tearing sound as it was torn from its body within Skye’s hands.
“Sorry about that, actually I’m not. Still regardless of what it is, you’re just able to survive this long. I just find that endearing.”
A singular tear streamed down your face and you wiped it away. You didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or grateful.
“I haven’t even needed to inflict any pain on you, you’re already doing it to yourself emotionally and it’s just so delicious.” He sat up from your bed and pulled you close just to loll Skye’s tongue down the side of your neck. Collecting your sweat as the appendage glided further up. Your heart beat so quickly it was almost like you could physically hear it.
“Wasting all of this adrenaline before we start? How risky.”
Your breath hitched and for a moment and you grew a smidge of a backbone. Just a minuscule ounce of respect for yourself. “I don’t think I want to put up with this anymore?”
What was supposed to be a statement came out as a question. You had just started to gain a spine again but you still felt so unsure of yourself and your needs. Almost as if you needed someone to hold your hand and tell you what you really wanted.
Skye’s eye twitched and you tensed up. “Alright. If you want out, then I’ll give you out.”
A strand of your hair became entwined and gently twirled within her puppeted hand. “I’ll even let you leave and go back to your paltry and forgettable life.” You expected the entity to burst into a laughing fit but that humiliation never came.
The expression projected through Skye’s face remained neutral and serious, even with a smile. The strands of your hair were wrapped so tightly within her fist, your head moved in the same direction her hand did. “I’ll do that only if you can handle me moving on and finding another pretty and miserable thing that more than likely will look just like you —“
Skye’s free hand used its pointer digit to ‘boop’ your nose. “And I would shower her with all my gifts and attention instead. I’d leave you and your whack-job clients alone and you’d never have to worry about me again.”
The disoriented expression on your face turned into an upset frown. You bit into your lower lip to cope with the seething feeling you felt. “Oh, you feel that? My tragic little accessory, I believe that is what jealousy feels like. You fear being replaced.”
When Skye’s lips locked with your own, denial became a forgotten word in your vocabulary. As much as you wanted to get away from this nightmare, you wouldn’t ever let anyone else take it away from you. This sick sense of co-dependency was wrapped up and hidden within your guilt with a bow.
This may never be over, and you felt a little relieved by that. The kiss broke and you were guided by your hair onto your bed. The weight of something much heavier than it appeared to be draped over you.
Whatever Skye weighed, it wasn’t this. He was something far heavier in there, hollowing out his victim until they were a perfect fit. How heavy Skye was, how strong she appeared to be was unnatural and unnerving.
Kisses trailed down from your neck to your abdomen and lower. Each kiss made your skin twitch with anxiety. No matter how good of a disguise this was, your body would always feel engulfed by the lingering presence of what was dwelling inside of Skye’s flesh.
The red lacy bottoms you wore were torn off and you spread your legs without any resistance. Her tongue swiped along your slit and you threw your head back. How could you stay mad at your narcissistic abomination of a ‘lover’ if he was so painfully good at doing things like this.
Plush lips wrapped around your clit and sucked until your eyes rolled back causing you to raise your hips further into her face. Breathless pants and moans serenaded him as his tongue swirled intense circles around your swollen nub.
That tongue that was prone to lying to you departed from where you needed it most and began lapping at your entrance. Even your wet heat tasted like home-grown trauma to him. Every tear, every scream, all that guilt, every bit of it amounted to something satiable for him.
“When are you taking this off? Her skin?” You stared at the ceiling to avoid looking down at Skye’s head between your legs. She wasn’t your affliction.
The horror that lay buried within her was your fixation. This deity, demon, angel, or entity that you were lacking a real name for was responsible for so much hurt in your life. As well as so much affection.
“Always such a fussy thing.” As if he wasn’t just going to rip the entire thing off anyways. You turned your head while he undressed his flesh marionette, not at all wanting to see the body of a woman you haven’t actually met before nude.
Courteous enough to know that what came next would only be bloodshed, meaning getting it on Skye’s clothes wasn’t an option to him.
“I think I spoil you too much, you’ve gotten so bold at telling me what you want.”
A sickening tear echoed throughout the room causing you to turn your attention back to him. Skye’s face was split right down the middle causing two flaps of skin to dangle around her chin area. The split in the middle only seemed to descend further as he pulled at it.
The flesh separated from her muscle layer which was next to be divided down the middle with a fissure. Blood flooded at the seams of the tear, spilling onto the marble floor below. Soon a far larger head emerged from the split.
It’s sticky skin, a raw pale red color, concealed in layers of fresh and old blood. The taller the emerging shape became, the more it towered over the original stature of Skye’s loosening skin by staggering numbers.
The inside of the flesh vessel was glazed over with a thick clear fluid. Which still had yellowish gel-like strings of connective tissue still attached to the entity it previously sheathed.
Whatever blood that didn’t make its way onto the floor congealed to him, caking over the series of many open mouths that cascaded along his lengthier face. Two big wide pupils suspended in blood shot white irises watched every quickened rise and fall of your chest.
The different jaws with multi faceted layers of differently sized teeth flexed as he aligned his mouth into a grotesque smile. There were only six sets of actual fangs in the very back of his mouth that one could only see if they were able to get close enough.
Aside from the six fangs the rest were square, blunt, and utterly… human. Even with all the extra rows of mandibles, the jaw closest to his actual mouth still possessed the ability to close itself and open again.
The process was unnatural and never ceased to leave you feeling apprehensive. After an inhumanly large hand of his caressed your face, you felt the drag of the rounded tips of his elongated fingers.
You winced at the feeling knowing that they were rounded, for now. Their gentle harmless nature merely a facade like many things that belonged to him. That roundness could become dangerously sharp at his will.
“Those thoughts of yours deepen whenever you truly see me.” A familiar voice so harsh and sharp that it cut the inside of your ears like glass had pulled you from your trance-like state. That abhorrent deep shrill on the edge of it, raked like nails on a chalk board for you.
Your catholic elementary school teacher had once told you that when angels spoke it hurt the ears of mankind. That their voice was responsible for disasters, pain, and unfortunate events to spread the word of a god that needed his voice heard. Yet the entity hovering over you was far from holy.
“I’m just admiring.”
“I can’t blame you.”
A smile of your own formed. There was that rare and normal sense of humor. No trauma, no pain, just his ancient wit working alone without the need for a victim.
The vertical slit at his groin opened with a loud viscous squelch. A large bulbous head of a shaft rested against your inner thigh. The swell of it was heavy against your own flesh. His length was a much lighter dull shade of red than the rest of him and also the only thing not covered in blood.
He was… utterly male but could a divine being truly fall within such human limitations? A being so unfathomable that its existence goes against all natural order and all its laws. Perhaps the answer to that question was far more simple than that.
Calculating white irises suspended in large orbs for eyes locked on to yours. Soon you felt it, a prod right at the center of your slick heat. Then a slow stretch, which was surprisingly more gentle than you recall it usually being.
An intrusive memory of a crying woman with your name carved into her abdomen invaded like an uninvited guest during a private moment. Your eye twitched at the internal image as you tried to keep your composure.
“I wish I could wear your skin.” There he is, there’s the monster.
“That would hurt you. It would even eventually kill you. You’d be empty and useless.” You mewled as the thickest part of his shaft pressed deeper between your folds.
“And if I did that I’d mourn your beauty.” You gasped. He completely sheathed himself while your back arched against the silk sheets. Maybe the heat of the moment caused you to hear something that was never said.
“I’d mourn your love for me.” A slow deep thrust and you melted like putty underneath him like pure blasphemy.
“Don’t protest it either, it's obvious.” Your mouth opened and instead of a coherent response you whimpered. Those trembling walls of yours gripped tightly in favor of his languid thrusts.
“Do you know what I’d mourn the most about you?”
You were silent, unaware of the answer or where he was going with this mockingly romantic proclamation of his. The best guess you had was that he was going to reference your trauma and gloat.
“Your mind. There’s something awfully wrong and rare about it. You’re able to love the corrupt and unloveable. What I’d like to say is-” Your eyes widened. Was he going to say what you think he was going to say? If he said it you were going to shatter into a million pieces below him.
From that moment there would be nothing anyone could say or do to convince you that this was wrong.
“That I…“ For fucks sake please don’t do this.
“Love…“ Stop it. A quicker pace caused your walls to clench abruptly. Each thrust of his shaft at a downward angle caused a drag that allowed your swollen clit to get the friction it needed.
“… you.” The metaphorical dam holding back your tears ruptured and you lost it. Your hands immediately shot to your face as you haven’t cried this hard in months.
Whether he was lying or not it didn’t matter anymore, those were exactly the words you needed to hear to throw all morality out the window. Each word weighed on you like a pair of chained unlocked shackles attached to your hands, and the entity was the heavy ball latched onto that chain.
Now you two would never be rid of each other. Every terrible, horrific action that he’s done from recollection developed a wall of excuses defending each one within your mind. This luxury home which was once a prison with you on death row will now be your sanctuary. You wanted this and yet you didn’t want this.
The thrusts became harsher and your bare breasts bounced on your chest every time his blood congealed body made contact with your own. While your body writhed with pleasure your brain writhed with agony.
Up would be down for you and down would be up. Any small part of you that believed you’d eventually find a way out of this dissipated. Other human suffering? He loves you, it doesn’t matter. The objectification of your very soul? He said he loves you.
“You’ll never leave me right?”
“Right.” A breathless confirmation from you that only fueled his ego. A few more drags of his cock against your throbbing bundle of nerves and you were powerfully spasming around him. The sensation became far too much while he slammed into your cunt.
“I love you too.” You sound pathetic. That permanent smile fixed to his nightmarish face widened. The thrusting abruptly stopped and you felt rope after rope of his orgasm fill you.
For the first time in a long time the guilty burden that sat heavy on your shoulders was lifted. There was no need to feel sorry for anyone anymore.
That night Skye’s hollowed skin lay strewn on the floor while you rested your head on his chest, ignoring the stickiness and the coppery aroma to listen to his nonexistent heartbeat.
In the morning life felt different for you, just so much lighter. The entity— your entity obviously has no need for sleep so last night he went through the trouble of picking out an outfit for you to wear today. There was something he needed to do this afternoon you were coming along with him.
The dress he picked out was far more revealing than you would have liked and the heels a little too high but you put it on without any fuss. Had this been days ago and you would have complained and behaved like an ungrateful brat but you knew better now.
Your hand fumbled trying to open up the passenger side door of the Mercedes in your driveway. The handle-less design was clearly more advanced than your own and you couldn’t help but feel you looked like an idiot.
The rear door of the car opened up drawing your attention to notice him holding it for you, with a smile of course. An inkling of irritation surfaced in your mind but that was quickly trumped by the warm and fuzzy feelings you’ve had since last night.
Maybe he wanted you in the backseat for safety reasons. Skye’s hand cupped your face before you got into the vehicle and he cooed at you. “You look so good. See how easy it is when you let me have control?”
Control. Control as in when he uses you to hurt and feed off others. Control as in you’ll never have your life back or anything close to it.
He was seemingly right. Things were much easier this way. This could potentially even be something that would bring the two of you even closer. Those thousands of questions that plagued your curiosity about him may even get answered if you ask. He loves attention so your devotion to him could surely take you a long way.
Once in the car you promptly pulled your phone out of your purse to check your hair and makeup. In the selfie camera your appearance became harder to focus on the more you looked at the disassociative look in your eyes.
Your once stressed and tired eyes were now almost as vacant as his were. The smile you made for the camera lacked all of its usual tightness and strain. It appears love can make one unrecognizable like that. You look like the perfect accessory. You’re the teacup designer dog and this life he’s created for you is the bag carries you around in. Screw up and he’ll take you to the kennel and put you down without remorse.
Unnerving, but he’ll coddle you through this. You put the phone down to see the car coming to a stop and a bright flash causing you to shut your eyes.
Another paparazzi camera captured another shot of you from the rolled down car window. You tried rolling the window up only to realize it was locked.
“Welcome to the spotlight love, I sure hope you’re ready for it.”