#from what I remember it was about accepting new fans

[ziminy]

I'll follow you until you love me

Having actor Gojo as your fan isn't for the weak

Tags: smut, mdni, f!actress reader, actor!Gojo, dark themed, stalking, obsession, jealousy, fan boy Gojo, mind games, lots of lies, manipulation, panties stealing, making out, fingering, oral (f receiving), drunk s(e)x, dubious content, people are shipping you and Gojo, fear play, just me going over the top again,

Author's note: thank you for 100 flowers 🤗 I been working on this fic for a while and was waiting for a specific occasion to post it.

Masterlist

The first time Gojo Satoru heard about you was a long time ago. He doesn't really remembers the details but he knows he was so done with hearing about you left and right.

Everybody was praising this new actor who appeared out of a blue, and it was getting on his nerves.

Nothing was known about you, you had no connections to the inside world, your name wasn't affiliated with any big names. It was like you were put on the big screen out of nowhere and lend a big role like the director was forced to.

And his feelings only got bitter the moment he met you in person. Walking into his set one day and greeting everyone left and right, remembering names of some crew members he didn't knew they even existed to begin with.

But the cherry on top was when the director, that was known for being a bit too eccentric, presented you with the biggest smile on. Praising you and talking about how the day is so much better with you there. And you, instead of trying to show off, being humble.

He didn't like it. The way you looked so sweet, how you would laugh at the poorly made jokes and how you left just as soon as you appeared, giving him no chance to actually learn something about you. But he does remember how you promised to buy everybody a drink next time you pass by and how you look forward to his movie.

Another one of his fans? Huh? He thought, being disappointed that you'd be much more easier than he hoped.

But he only ended up being disappointed once again, because a week later you appeared on his set one more time. This time with drinks just as you promised, and the biggest smile on your face talking about the role you're auditioning for and how the set is closer to his. Well, you weren't talking to him directly, but the director. But since you were on his movie set you were practically sets neighbors.

Full of himself, he went to you, expecting you to be excited and faint just from seeing him, since you said you were a fan. But instead you looked at him the way you looked at everybody else, the same business smile on that was basically your free pass card in life. Refusing his invitation to drink with him tonight, talking about keeping it professional and how you don't dare to accept since you respect him too much. Fearing that you might do something that would embarrass yourself in front of him.

It was a lie, he quickly noticed the way your face change as you left with your assistant. A blank expression on your face, that smile disappearing, not having to put an act on as you thought no one saw you. But he did, and it got him thinking, spending the next few days searching and looking at any media form that haves your name on it.

Were you actually pretending? Was everybody's sweetheart actually a liar? Did he actually found dirt on you? What is he going to do with this information? Surely you don't want everybody to know about about it, right?

But when he thought he had you, a scandal with your name all over it was the only thing everybody was talking about. How your company was mistreating you and how you finally managed to break ties with them. And it didn't helped that everybody on his set was whining about you not asking for help, and how they noticed your sudden demeanor but didn't said a thing.

Now you had people fighting over you to join entertainment companies. Biggest names arguing about which one was better for you, you even had his company begging you to join them. And now he was stuck with hearing your name once again.

It didn't stopped any time soon, because somehow, miraculously, you decided to sign a contract with his company.

It was like you decided to torture him, play with his mind and lead him on even if you clearly set some boundaries between the two of you. Were you playing hard to get? Because after all those nights awake he learned that you didn't get involved with anyone in the industry. You refused executives after executives, big actors and renowned directors. You would rather get banned from the industry than being known for giving any kind of services or being known as someone's partner.

He didn't knew if he was supposed to be proud or get mad at how stupid you were acting.

But it got him even more invested. And now you had him watching every single thing you appeared in. It could be a small role, you could just appear in the background for a second and he'll memorize the entire movie.

Soon he got bored of that, and he moved into interviews, appearances or just people speculations, the nda you sign or make people sign. He still remembers about that time you got a nobody as your partner and kept him around for a few months. Even so, it didn't changed a thing about his interest in you.

His room was filled with you, pictures, posters, stuff from movies you acted in. His whole house was like this in fact. His closet filled with stuff you wore, you could even find the same products you use in his bathroom.

And the less attention you pay him, the more obsessed he became. Spraying his bed with your perfume every time you went on a date with your little nobodies, sometimes even asking people from your sets about you, not daring to get to close to you so you won't acknowledge him, even if he's dying to get your attention.

Imagine his surprise when you first acted in the same thing. Well, not really because he auditioned for the same movie as you, trying for a role that had it's screentime at the same time as yours. But he didn't really expect to get it. Oh who is he lying to? He called the director and demanded to play by your side, talking about how he wants to try new things and putting a act on so nobody would rat him out.

Just as soon as the roles were revealed to the public, he even hired a few people to post about the two of you online. But he did got hit by surprise from the amount of people that actually shipped you two. It got him giggling and kicking his feet, staying up and reading comments about how you looked together.

And you seemed to feed into fans delusions, interacting with him more and putting on a more friendly facade, like you were actually friends behind close doors.

Even if it was fake, he liked it. The attention you gave him, the way you finally look at him right in the eyes with more than just your business smile. How you sit close to him at interviews, your legs almost touching. And how you would joke with him when people were looking, actually trying to get to know him.

The promotions ended sooner than he'd like, and now he was alone once again.

He should have let go of you, it been already two years since you two acted together, and he did in fact almost forgot about you. His house was finally you free, not a single thing that represented you in any way in sight. And he been clean for the past few months, finally going in public and acting like old him.

That was until a movie director contacted him, wanting him to be one of the main characters in this action movie he's making. And his costar? You. You would play his love interest. He can't really remember what he said after that, but he did ended up with the role, now reading the script with great attention, trying to picture how your scenes would be.

The romance scenes weren't enough, the fans would want to see more, he said while talking to the director, convincing him to add more. And that's how you ended up with some really unnecessary spicy scenes. Making out in the bathroom, somehow fucking each other on his bed, lots of kisses and the sexual tension should be felt the entire movie.

"Director, can I talk to you?" you said when you visit the set for the first time.

"Did something happen?" the older man looked at your concerned face.

"I received the new script." you said, holding the papers in your hands. "Are all the new scenes really necessary? It's supposed to be about fighting for justice, not a romance movie." well, you were right. But the white haired man happened to pay for the movie's budget out his own pocket.

"It would reach to a larger audience." but were the sex scenes really necessary? You looked at Gojo, trying to communicate telepathically with him. "Don't worry, I'm sure everything will be fine." the director said, ending the discussion there.

This wasn't just about you, it was also about your coworker and about how he feels. You had to pull him to the side and talk to him, you didn't want any hard feelings or to end up with a twisted relationship because of a stupid movie. "You sure you're alright with the new scenes?" you asked, looking at the tall man as he seemed to hold back something.

"Yes. Why wouldn't I?" he tried not to smile, happy at the way you seemed concerned about him and his well being.

"The change was out of nowhere and too drastic. I could talk to the director if you feel uncomfortable." you're so cute, he wanted to eat you whole.

"What about you. How do you feel about it?" he knew he went overboard, he blacked out when he made those changes after all. But he personally can't say that he regrets anything.

"It's just acting. Sure, I'm a little unhappy at the changes, but I'm alright with it if you are." god, he was dying to kiss you. He wanted to get to the parts where he could be closer to you, feel your skin against his and have a taste of your lips.

There were a few more weeks of filming until he got to the parts he wanted, and he was waiting patiently. Because he knew that once it started he'll get more than enough of you.

"That's all for today." the director said, finally announcing that it was the end of today's work.

"How about some drinks?" Gojo looked at you talking to your assistant before he looked at the director. "My treat." how could anybody refuse free drinks, especially ones that were payed by the white haired man.

You initially tried to refuse, looking at your assistant for a confirmation before you accepted. And that's how you ended in a bar with almost everybody on the set.

You let yourself to get losen for once, forgetting about the image you carefully builded and drank. You had your assistant there in case of anything, which you trusted a bit too much. But even so, you're just happy that you could drink, enjoy the company of others and feeling like you're just another person in there not just a big name actress.

And perhaps you enjoyed yourself a bit too much. Because people started leaving and you didn't felt like doing the same just yet.

It was just you, your costar, the director and your assistants in there in the end, it wasn't that bad.

"I'll call the car for us." your assistant let you know as they stepped outside for a moment.

"Our car is here." the director's assistant said, making the old man get up and leave. Now it was just you, your costar and his assistant that was nowhere to be seen.

"I'm kinda glad I'm doing this with you." you said, barely able to keep your eyes open. "I hear people talking about you all the time, and they all say how good you are." he stared at you with an expressionless face, still trying to think of what he should do next.

"Why don't we go outside for a moment? Take some fresh air." he wasn't prepared for a love confession just yet.

"Alright." you grabbed his arm, letting your body lean into his. He was sweating, his heart was beating so fast that he doesn't know what to do.

"T-then." he gulped, walking with you towards the back door of the bar. Good thing he reserved the whole place, because he doesn't know what he would have done if anyone saw you in that situation.

He placed you against the wall, sitting back next to you and letting you rest your head against his shoulder.

"Your hands are so big." you said, taking his hand in yours and comparing sizes. He was quiet, he just stared at you, his mind in a million places as he tried to figure out if this was some kind of hint or it was all in his head. "You're big in general." you looked up at him, blinking a few times and making him look away, a hand over his face as he tried to control his facial expression.

"It's nothing." he almost bite his tongue.

"I was a bit scared at first, but I'm glad we're in this together." seriously, are you trying to provoke him? "Let's work together in the future as well." if you weren't leading him on then he doesn't know what this is.

The way you look at him, and how you smile. It wasn't your work smile, you were genuinely smiling at him, heck, even your eyes were smiling. If this wasn't you telling him how much you want him then he really went crazy.

He lowered his head, taking another look at your face before he kissed you. At first it was something simple, just his lips touching yours for a second before he backed away. But the way you looked at him made him get closer. Those eyes of yours, having something that looked like sparkles in them. A fire that never seems to calm down, the heat that made him fall for you in the first place. Who can blame him that he kissed you again? Trapping your body against the wall, making you to wrap your hands around him, welcoming him in your warmth even more.

He let out a moan, looking at you with something lustful in his eyes and a smirk on his face. He looked dangerous, like he finally let go of that prince charming facade, showing you what he actually is.

You looked surprised, like you actually never expected him to act like that. Did you really thought that he's usually that sweet? How cute. He could play with you for a little longer, show you what he's actually capable of.

He bite your lip, looking straight into your soul as his kisses traveled to your neck. He sucked on your skin, placing a soft kiss on it before he sinked his teeth into it, making you to let out a gasp. He needed to leave his mark on you, because who knows when else he could.

He couldn't stay away from your lips for long, and now he's back on devouring you, filling the back alley with the sounds you make. "Come home with me." he tried to say, not wanting to get away from you.

You didn't respond, not because you didn't heard him, because trust me when I say you heard him loud and clear. It was more about what will happen after that, and your moral code. You'd rather die than get involved with anyone in the industry, and yet look at you still refusing to let go of him.

"Y/N, you're here?" you could hear somebody on the other side of the door. It was your assistant, probably looking for you to go home.

"Let go." you quietly moaned into his mouth. The door open, making you to push him away, looking at your assistant who had no clue of what's going on. "Is the car ready?" you felt like you sobber up, it's like you didn't touched a single drop of alcohol.

"It just arrived." your assistant looked at the actor next to you and then at you, not knowing if they should walk away or take you to your car.

"Alright." you left him in that alley, not even looking back at him for a single moment.

He had that look again, he's about to do something you'd both regret, or more like you won't like it. Because if he's shameless enough to do it, do you think he'd actually feel a little bit of remorse?

The next day you woke up with hundreds of text and missed calls, and your head killing you. And when you looked at your phone all you could see is people sending you the same article.

Two big stars making out in the back of a bar. Is this the start of a romance story?

Huh? What are these people talking about? Curious, and having no idea why people were sending it to you, you clicked on it. And you were welcomed with your name all over it, alongside Gojo's.

All you can do is cry. How drunk were you last night? You have to apologize to your costar. How could you have been so stupid? You can't believe yourself for doing such a mistake.

"Do not believe everything you see" you posted something on your social media. Trying to calm down the crowd somehow. You have to talk to your team about this since you have absolutely no idea how to handle it. For the moment it it was better to deny it then resolve this issues with Gojo's team.

Speaking of the wolf, you haven't checked on his social media yet.

You went on his profile, and instead of trying to take control over the situation he was putting more wood on the fire.

"Since everybody knows we don't have to hide anymore" you looked at his post in disbelief.

"???" you comment. Looking at your screen in disbelief at the way he was liking comments about how the two of you looked good together.

"Hi :)" he replied to your comment, making you even more confused. Was this a strategy for the movie? I mean, it wasn't a bad idea since you are his character's love interest.

Perhaps this was all an elaborate scheme that you weren't aware of just yet. That thought made you calm down. The internet was doing otherwise.

There were people who were genuinely happy about this, talking about how they knew it. Hell, you got other stars talking about how they always seen your interactions and they knew something more was going on. The fact that you didn't seen a single hate comment made you put questions, but who knows. You might see them sooner or later.

From that moment on, you didn't had a single peaceful time on set. Now you have people acting like your a married couple when nothing was going on between you and Satoru. But he seemed fine, in fact, he looked happy with the way people are treating you now.

He left his mark on you and you didn't even knew it. It was fine, even if you didn't looked at him as a potential partner, yet. It was alright. There was more than enough time. There's no rush, especially when he knows how to get rid of competition. Just like he got rid of your assistant for interrupting you at the bar, he can get rid of everybody that dares to get in his business.

"You're free later?" he came to you when you were on set, making people start whispering between themselves and giggle.

"Not really." you looked tired, if he knew you'd end up like this without an assistant he would have got you another one first.

"If you ever need my help let me know, I'll help you with anything." he means it, even if he looks like he doesn't. He will walk through fire if you tell him to.

"I'm just looking for a new assistant, don't worry." people were speculating that the assistant was the one who leaked about your so called relationship, but it was far from the truth. But the fact that they refuses to talk to you was confusing, even if it was your assistant who did that, why would they suddenly quit and go no contact? And what was more confusing was the fact that the only text from them was a screenshot of what you posted. Don't believe everything you see. What does that means? Was somebody bullying them? Then why wouldn't they tell you?

Now you couldn't help but be hesitant about chosing a new assistant. What if they end up having the same fate? Some people can be really mean and you don't want anyone to suffer because of you.

So, for the next few days you refused to even talk about your current situation. Only having your manager by your side and not trusting anyone that got too close near you.

He haves a limit, you should know that. How much longer he should wait for you to finally notice him?

This only made someone jealous, and a little angry. You don't want his help, even after what happened at the bar, you act like there was nothing you should talk about.

You should have went to him, jump in his arms and cry about how your assistant left you. But no, instead you chose to overwork yourself, still be the same kind actress that people loved and still giving him no attention.

So, he wrote you a letter. It was nothing more than his current thoughts and about his not so healthy love that was masked as 'admiration'. Shoving into your bag when no one was looking.

You were still on set when you were reading the letter, thinking it was made by one of the staff who happened to be your fan. You didn't really payed too much mind about it, finding it cute and putting it back where you find it after you were done with it.

Did you liked it? Should he write another one? Or did he went too overboard?

Do not believe everything you see, those were your own words and yet you were ignoring them. That letter did made your day, thinking that maybe you're just overthinking about your current situation. There were bad people out there, but there were also good guys. Why were you letting one bad incident ruin your mood?

A few days later you appeared at the studio with an unknown person next to you, you finally got a assistant. And this time you're planning on doing better than you did last time. Or so you thought.

You woke up with another letter, the same handwriting and the same sweet words written on it. This time was more about you than your so called fan, about how you should take more care of your health, how you got people worrying about you. But unlike last time, this letter had a signature on it, an S, nothing more, just a simple symbol.

How cute, S for secret, right? You giggled.

Do not believe everything you see. Really, do not. But for a moment you allowed yourself to be delusional, to think that the world wasn't that bad. I mean, even if there was someone who didn't appreciate you, you still had millions of fans and there are a lot of people who supports you.

And you decided to be more humanitarian, to step up your game and follow your costar's lead. One time after everyone was done with work you announced that you want to take everyone out for drinks, your treat. No one was crazy enough to refuse, especially you.

So, you called a friend of yours who owned a restaurant, the food is great, plus they also had a bar. And off you were.

Just like last time, you ended up all alone in that place with your coworker, laughing at his silly jokes before you finally got up to pay for tonight's feast.

"Your back?" you asked, feeling someone behind you and thinking it was your assistant. But to your surprise, it wasn't. It was the white haired man who seemed drunk, and maybe he was from the few drinks he had that night.

He leaned into you, trapping you between the empty receptionist desk and him. He kept looking at you, eyes half open as he seemed to want to say something.

Your mind was wandering for a moment, moving your eyes on his full lips before looking up at him. Every sane person would have done that, I mean, he was eye catching even in that state.

"You're alright?" you sounded concerned, and for a moment he actually thought you cared about him. You looked around the empty room for a moment, looking for any other people in there, but for his assistant more specifically.

"Don't leave me." he got his face closer to your ear, whispering in a low voice, and placing his hands on either sides of your body, trying to get his body more closer to yours.

"Come." you tried to get on of his hands away, so you could move.

"Where?" he only got clingier.

"Let's sit down. I'll get you some water." the last thing you want to see is headlines with your name all over them, talking about taking advantage of him when he's such a state.

"Noo." he whined, resting his head against your shoulder. "Don't want to." you sighed, looking around the room once again, trying to see if anyone from his team is still there.

"I got the bill ready." the cashier came back, only to freeze in place and look at you and your costar hugging, or what it seemed like a hug.

"I'll pay for it as soon as my assistant comes back." you said, trying to act like you're not being suffocated by this mountain of a man. The poor girl ran back from where she came from, leaving you alone with Satoru again. You sighed, you could only sigh as you put a hand on his back, making him break character for a moment as he jolted under your touch. "You can be such a big baby sometimes." good thing that you can't see him, because he was grinning from ear to ear.

"What happened to you?" your assistant finally appeared, looking at the scene you two were putting.

"He's drunk." you said as you rubbed his back with one hand, the other resting on his side, to keep him in place from falling. "Have you seen his assistant?"

"Not since the director left." your assistant got their phone out. "I'll give them a call." you're so thankful that you overcame your fears, because you don't know what you would have done alone in a moment like this. "They turned their phone off." you looked at the man in your arms and shook your head, disappointed at how this turned out.

"Call his manager, or anyone from his team." maybe he was the one who needed a new assistant, not you.

"No one is answering their phone." you understand that it's late at night, but who could just leave a big movie star like Gojo out here without a single thought about it. "What do we do? There's a hotel nearby, we could get a room for him there." that wasn't a bad idea. However, neither you or your assistant would look good if you leave him there. I mean, someone will have to get in the hotel with this world famous actor, who's face is known by everybody. He clearly drunk, and there would 100% be someone who will post something online about it and you'll get backlash for it.

"Let's take him to my place." that was the only option you had left. He started rubbing his face against you when you said that, letting out a groan and letting more of his weight into you.

"You're sure about that?" your assistant asked, not sure how to respond to what you just said.

"He'll sleep in a guest room. It's better than a hotel." your imagine had to come first after all.

So, without any more words said, you took him to your car. Even if he was heavy, he was surprisingly easy to move around. Well, he did followed every single of your move voluntarily, refusing to let go of you in any way possible.

That until you got to your house, dragging him inside when your assistant left, and leading him to a room relatively far from yours.

You pushed him in bed, taking off his shoes and trying to get him comfortable in bed. You didn't even dared to get close to his clothes, just putting the blanket over him and then leaving him in there.

You didn't even thought of taking advantage of him, you just wanted him sleep peacefully, to keep him away from anyone who might do something bad to him. After all, you knew damn well the industry you're working in, they'll eat him like wolves if they get their hands on him.

You're just helping out, you don't expect anything in return. But what a surprise to wake up with him in your bed in the middle of the night. He was on top of you, looking at the way the moonlight hit your face, and somehow wanting to bathe in your scent.

You could feel his hot breath on you, and it made you woke up. You didn't looked scared, even if he looked like he wanted to do things you'd rather not think about, you stayed calm. "Why did you leave me?" was he still drunk, or perhaps he was pretending to be? He was a good actor after all, you wouldn't be surprised if this was one of his acts.

He doesn't understands you. If you were the one who jumped in his arms like that he would have devoured you alive. But even after he made sure he could get some time alone with you, you still didn't payed him attention, at all.

"Go to sleep." you looked unfazed, not even taking him seriously.

"Touch me." he was really going to lose his mind. He was serving himself on a plate to you, and you didn't even dared to take a bite.

"You're drunk." you'd always try to do the opposite of what he's saying.

"I'm not." you knew he was pretending from the start too, didn't you?

"That's what a drunk person would say." you were getting on his nerves.

In a moment of panic, he took your hand in his, kissing your palm, closing his eyes and looking desperate as he tried to show you how he's feeling. You didn't even bat an eye, looking at him expressionless and like you didn't believed a word be was saying.

"Why don't you like me?" he had to confront you, or else this will take him nowhere.

"It's not that." he got the wrong idea, but it wasn't your job to explain yourself when he only understands what he wants to understand.

"Then? Why do you keep avoiding me?" you shook your head.

"I want us to keep it professional." you're making him laugh.

"We weren't professional when we kissed." that's another story. "So you just used me and now you'll let me hanging like this?" he really didn't wanted to listen to you unless you said something he wants to hear. "Make it up to me." what a fucker. "I want something in return for what you did." he's talking like he didn't started it last time.

"What do you want me to do?" you really can't believe him and his stupid demands. This should have been a payback for last time. Taking care of him even if he wasn't your problem to begin with.

"Kiss me." he was waiting for your response. "Like you mean it." you just said you want to keep it professional, but it's like he didn't even heard it.

"Can't I do something else?"

"Post a picture of us." that was even worse. Who knows what people would say if you do that. You'd really be branded as his, and it was a pain in the ass to deal with it.

You grabbed him by his shirt and dragged him closer to you, giving him a kiss that he'd remember. A wet kiss that it filled the room with sound, and your tongue in his mouth dancing with his. You even wrapped your hands around his neck, making sure he doesn't back down and take back his words.

He moaned, his hands trying to get under your shirt to feel more of your skin. But you didn't let him to do anything because you ended the kiss, breathing heavily and looking at him a bit angrily. "What now?"

"Bite me." kissing wasn't enough, he wanted you to eat him. Bite him, devour him in any way you could so that way you could have a piece of him with you.

"I'm not-" he kissed you, this time pinning your hands above your head so he could explore you more freely. Every time you tried to say something he'd bite your lip, making you groan and continued to kiss you.

"Touch me." he moaned, finally getting his mouth away from yours so you could breath. He took his shirt off, tossing it somewhere in the room and taking one of your hands in his, placing it on his crotch so you could feel how hard he was. He looked at you, at the face you made and how you didn't looked happy to be in that situation.

"It's too soon." you still refuse to get involved with your coworkers? What does he haves to do to prove to you that he means every single word he's saying?

"Do you really not like me?" he wanted you to be at least a little interested in him. It was no fun if he's the only one with big feelings in there.

"It's not that." it's your moral code.

"Do you ever think of me?" you didn't respond to that, only looking down at your hands amd trying to avoid eye contact.

"I'm not ready." you finally open your mouth to say something. "If we do this then nothing will be the same. We still have work to do, I can't simply just do it." so it was because of work? He already knew that, but at least you didn't dislike him.

"I get it." he said, getting off you and sitting down in bed. "Just go to sleep."

"You can sleep here if you want, I'll go somewhere else." you tried to get out of bed, but he dragged you back.

"Just because we're not fucking that doesn't mean we can't sleep." he will not let this night go without doing something. And just being able to feel your body against his as he sleeps is more than enough. Trust me when I say that this will drive him crazy for many days from now on.

The way you stay in his arms, and how he's able to shield over you. You really have no idea what power you hold onto him.

Do you regret bringing him in? A little. You hate giving people false hope, and he seems to ignore all your signs of displeasure. He did grew up in this environment after all. Being rich and famous from a young age, he haves no idea how to react when people tells him no, he can't handle rejection. And it seems that he always got what he wanted.

He didn't had to put on an act if he wanted to be around you. You could be friends, if he wanted. But nothing more, you wouldn't dare to be something more than acquaintances. You just work together, and are signed under the same entertainment company. You were nothing more than cash cows. You were the biggest stars of your agency, and you seemed to be pushed under the spot light as much as possible. He must understand how you feel, no?

He in fact didn't. And unlike you, he had more control over his actions. You could even say that the agency was afraid of him. He did come from a big family of stars, he had so many connections that even he can't say for sure how much power he was holding. But it was no joke when someone says he's the strongest.

So how can you reject him like that? Leaving him alone in that bed without blinking twice. But perhaps it was for the best, because he could finally rearrange his thoughts and think of what he should do. Retreat wasn't an option, I mean, how could he step back when he basically was in paradise?

This place smells exactly like you, leaving a sweet taste on his tongue and making him salivate while bathing in your scent. Should he steal something? You shouldn't tell him twice, because he got up the bed and starting looking around the room. He should pick something small, that you wouldn't notice. And even if you do notice, what will you do? He's shameless, you'll only give him a reason to get off to later when he's alone.

He should get something practical, that would help him during hard times.

And that's when he saw it, your closet. Something in his perverted mind suddenly lit on, and he went straight for your panties. There's so many to choose from, so many colors and models. He wants to take all of them home, put them on display right at the entrance so he would be greeted by them every time he comes home. In the end he picked one of the prettiest pair you own, shoved it in his pocket and went back into your room.

He gained more than he expected. Perhaps he should play drunk more often.

He got his shirt back on and got out the room. You couldn't possibly just left him in there all alone. And he was right, because he found you in the kitchen, sitting peacefully and taking a sip of some unknown liquid from a cup. "You're up?" the way your voice was still husky, your hair messy and your shirt falling off your shoulder. You said you didn't wanted him and yet you're trying to seduce him, how does that come?

He didn't open his mouth, only getting closer to you and taking the cup away from your hand, drinking from it without a single worry of what it might be.

It was tea, not so sweet, still warm and somehow hitting just right. "If you wanted some you could have said so." you said, getting up and walking towards one of your cabinets, getting out another cup and pouring some tea in it. "Here."

"I'll drink from this." he preferred your half empty cup rather than a full one? What a weirdo.

"Do you want to eat anything? I still have some leftovers from yesterday. I also think I still have some jam left, we could eat it with toast." stop showing him your caring side. He really doesn't know for how much longer he can keep it like this. This moment felt too intimate, it felt like you two really hooked up last night, and it was messing with his head.

You take good care of him, don't you? Offering him some of the biggest clothes you own so no one would suspect a thing, giving him a ride back to the studio. And now acting like you don't even know him. Stop being so cute, it only makes him want to bite you.

"You're here today?" the director said, looking at the two of you who got there at the same time.

"Don't we need to be here for a costumes check?" you clearly remember your assistant telling you to come back and do a last minute fit check.

"It's tomorrow." the white haired man said, wrapping his arm around yours.

"Why didn't you told me?" he was enjoying this too much, all a smile as he was trying not to react at your expression.

"I thought you were taking me home." you didn't even knew where he lives.

"Just go, you love birds. You clearly have better places to be at." the director laughed, making you look in disbelief at him. Love birds? Who?

"Come on, let's go back." Satoru didn't let you say a thing and dragged you out of there.

All he needs to do at the moment is keep people away from approaching you. And it's not hard, at all. Just standing next to you, flash a smile and say something that could be interpreted in wrong ways. He doesn't even need to try to make people run.

"Seriously, why didn't you tell me?" you said when you got back to your car. "Now I look stupid." you looked so gloomy, he was going to eat the pout of yours.

"I thought you knew." he'll get you even more confused about things if it means he'll see you like this. It gave him a false sense of security, like you were finally accepting him.

You sighed, not wanting to let out your anger on him. "Let me drive you home." it would be bad if more people sees you together. And at this point you don't trust anyone to come near your home to get him.

What a joke.

The next day you woke up with people blowing your phone again, and another article of your name next to his, talking about everything you did in public. Your interactions at the bar, how he was spotted at your house where he didn't left until the next morning, and about how you always look lovey dovey at the sets.

The filming progress just started and yet there were already rumors all over the internet about how you two would end up being more than just coworkers by the end of that movie.

Who keeps writing this? Seriously, it was getting on your nerves. And the fact that Satoru kept feeding delusions to the fans wasn't helping.

All this hype around the movie wasn't supposed to be only about you two, the main cast. It was supposed to be about all the production. The set, the visuals, the acting and the script, everyone's hard work. You should have turned down the offer as soon as you heard who your costar would be. But you didn't see any of these coming, so who can you blame?

Things only seems to get worse, because when you stared filming again, you got assigned with a new task.

"So, we're filming what were doing behind the scenes?" you asked, looking at the small camera that one of your coworkers was holding and then at them.

"The director said it would be fun. Giving people a little preview of what's going on." well, it didn't sounded that bad. People seems to enjoy behind the scenes footage in general, letting them see a bit of the actors lifes.

"I see." if the director said so, then you guess you don't really have a saying in this.

"We started already?" the white haired man appeared next to you out of nowhere, resting a hand on your head and leaning into you.

"Satoru, say hi to the camera." the actor said, moving the device to his face.

"Oh right, Y/N." there was a hint of his evil plan in his voice, already knowing you'd be pissed with him. "Are my clothes still at your place? I think I forgot them there." you really couldn't control your expression in that moment, looking at him like he killed somebody.

"What?" your voice was shaking, still not over the fact that he would say something like that in this situation. "Why would they be at my house?"

"I changed there last time. I think I left the clothes on the couch before we left."

"Ohh~" the other actor said, making you to look at them, somehow begging them to not get the wrong idea. "I see you're busy. I'll let you be, I won't interact."

"No, wait. It's not what it seems." it was already too late. "Why would you say that?" because he knew the director loves drama, and this would end up being published sooner or later. He was killing two birds with one stone. Doing a favor for the movie's publicity and showing the world that he already been in places some wouldn't even dare of dreaming of.

"People love things like these." he wrapped his hands around you, resting his chin on your head. "Hug me, the camera is in our direction." if it was or not, he couldn't care less. He just wanted to feel your touch in that moment.

It only got worse and worse the moment you started filming the sex scenes. The scenes were like a reflection of your own actions in real life, because everything started with a drunk kiss at a bar. Then ending up in his apartment where you were eating each other in the hallway.

It was supposed to be acting, the kisses didn't even needed to be real and yet he's not even holding back, touching you in all kind of inappropriate places, groping you shamelessly like there aren't cameras all over the place.

He pinned you against the sturdiest wall in there, making you wrap your legs around him as he kept biting and kissing you all over the place. At this point, you don't think the editors would need any sonds effects for your scenes. Because you realized how filthy those sounds were, and loud. Every time you kissed it was echoing in that empty place, the small setting that was supposed to represent a house wouldn't be enough to muffle the sounds.

He bite your lip when he realized your head was in a complete another place. How dare you ignore him in moments like these. You couldn't run even if you wanted, because you'd have to come back to him and film everything from the start. Or perhaps he could make you screw up on purpose, to retake this scene so he could touch you even more.

"Wait." you tried to stop him when you felt his hand under your shirt, trying to unclip your bra.

"What?" he said out of breath, taking his lips away from you for a moment so he could look at you.

"Let-" you looked away, too embarrassed at the way he was looking at you, his pupils were dilated and he looked like he would really put his dick in you if it wasn't for all these people in there. "Let me do it." his lips were back on yours while his hands were trying to take your clothes off.

Both of your clothes were all over the place, and you know it would be a pain in the ass to pick them after. He was too focused on this, the way he looked like he couldn't see anyone but you, like you were really alone in his house.

That's the beauty of acting, no? How some could get so focused on the plot, acting like their character is supposed to and forgetting about the outside world. But he wasn't acting in that moment. Maybe you were, but he taking this very personally. And the fact that you were holding back moans, refusing to touch him more than necessary and trying to stay in your character was infuriating him. It wasn't his character that makes you feel good, it was him.

He ended up throwing you in the bed a little harder than he intended, his touch becoming rougher and his kisses even wetter than before.

Good god, it's good that the scene ended soon after you two got to the bed, or else you would have lost it. You're already soaking wet, you have no idea what you would have done if this kept going for too long.

The scene was perfect, as much as you're embarrassed about it, it was pure perfection. Not a single time did the director called cut, you didn't had to retake the same scene from another angle. Nothing was said about your so called acting besides that you were in complete sync.

He's taking revenge on you, isn't he? Because even now after you finished your scenes for today, he looked at you with the same hungry eyes. And you swear you didn't mean it, but it made your pussy clench.

You gave him a quick look, squeezing your thighs together for a moment when he looked back at you.

It was something that he never saw before, the way you act. That expression on your face, pouting and looking at him with this thing in your eyes that made him want to drag you somewhere far away from people. You needed him, didn't you? And he was going to help you if you asked him to. Because if he got you in that state, then he also had to resolve your problem.

But you didn't spoke to him, you just looked at him all needy for a moment, like you wanted his touch back on you and then left, leaving him with the worst bonner he ever got in his life. This, only to come back a few days later for your next scenes.

You were driving him insane. And there aren't enough interactions in the movie to take out his frustration on you. There are too little scenes, and sometimes he had to improvise when he was getting too lost in his feelings. A few kisses here and there, just a quick peak when you were in the background to give more life to the movie.

But you still didn't said a thing, acting like this was all part of the script, like you were payed to do so.

So can you blame him when he wrote you another letter again? This time more aggressive than the previous times. Talking about how you got him feeling, how he craves for your touch and it drives him insane the way you seem not to care. Give him attention, or act like you acknowledge him. And this time he left the paper in your dressing room, placed under one of your stuff where he knows you'll know it was meant for you.

Too bad he couldn't see your reaction when you read the letter, but he realized you weren't too happy about it. It got you acting paranoid again, he could see it in your eyes, your body language. How you need to have a bit of distance from anyone that tries to come too close to you, and how you seem not to trust people anymore.

It was just a letter, he didn't even wrote everything down. No, in fact, he held back a lot. Because if he did wrote his mind you would refuse to come back into the movie set ever again.

But that's your charm, I guess. How you don't hide your feelings, and how you try to not make it obviously that you're displeased with things even if it's written all over your face. You're a good actress, a very good one, and yet you don't act unless you're required to. You were the opposite of him, where he always haves a mask on, the same business smile as you. But unlike you, he doesn't mean an thing, this friendly facade.

You were genuinely a sweetheart, while he only acted as he sees fit. And in this moment he's so close on fucking everything up just to toy with you. Because he's at his limits.

It was time for another suggestive scene, the set being filled with less people than usually. The lowlights, the atmosphere and everything in there was a bit suffocating. But maybe because of how much you overworked yourself these days.

"Do you think the plan will work?" you asked, sitting on his couch and looking at the coffee table that was placed there by the staff members.

"Do we have any other option?" he said his line in a serious tone, his character was supposed to be stressed from all the unfortunate events that happened lately, but it seems that he too is stress. Well, everybody been working overtime lately, but the sooner you were done with this movie the sooner you could move on with your life.

"I wish we could resolved this peacefully, I'm tired of fighting." you sighed, looking at your fingers for a moment and then at him who was resting not so far from you on the couch.

"Come here." he pat his lap, his back resting against the couch and he didn't even wanted to move an inch from there. He was improvising again, he was supposed to get up and drag about bottle of alcohol into this.

You followed his instructions, not wanting to pretend to be drunk again, and somehow not wanting to act in that moment too. If he haves a better idea for this scene then you'll follow his lead.

So, you sat on his lap, legs spread on either sides of him and wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands resting on your hips, moving towards your ass as he grabbed you and dragged you closer to him, your chest pressed against his as he placed you over his hard cock. You could feel him through his pants, and for a moment you stopped functioning, not knowing how to react to this.

"Well figure it out." he kissed you, his hands going under your shirt to make contact with your burning skin.

The kiss was so sloppy, both of you too tired to figure out a pace you should go at. Just touching, getting lost in the way your bodies seem to welcome each other openly. For a moment even forgetting where you actually are at the moment, and if the director wouldn't have said cut, you could have definitely escalated things.

What was going on in your mind? How could you let yourself so carefree? If you was just a bit more tired and at a state where you couldn't think properly, you would have definitely dragged him to your changing room and fucked him there.

And you woke up with another letter, even worse than last time. Talking about how your body looks, how he wants to get his hands on you, how you turn him on in the worst way possible.

The more you ignored those letters, the more they came. It got so bad, describing his fantasies, the way you appear in his dreams to haunt him like he wasn't haunting you right now. You had no idea who the sender was, because sometimes the letters would be sign as S, sometimes they would just be filled with nothing but filthy words and no signature. But you knew it was the same person from their handwriting.

You'd always wake up with them in places where there aren't many people allowed. And no matter how hard you're thinking about, you can't figure who it was. There were no cameras in this side of the studio, so you couldn't even see who was tormenting you.

"Why don't we go drinking tonight?" the director said one time before you were almost done with work fot that day. "We're almost done with filming, lets celebrate." after all these stressful days, you could use a drink.

It will be quick, go there, have a chat with a few people, have a drink and then go home. But just like last time, one drink turned into too many and you ended up in a corner of the bar with your costar who seemed to feed you even more alcohol.

He had his chin resting against his palm, looking at you with a smile on his face as he kept pouring more of that bitter liquor into your glass. "I can't drink no more." you couldn't even speak properly, hiccuping and moving left to right, like you were about to fall off your chair.

"One more won't hurt." the bar was still filled with people, so he had to keep himself in place.

"I got the car ready." your assistant came to your table looking at you and then at the white haired man. "I have to take her home, she's already too drunk." maybe he should get rid of this one too. It seems that all your assistants like to get in between his plans.

But perhaps he got a better idea. He took your glass, gulping down everything that was in it in a second before he tried to get you to the car. "Give me a ride too." he got in the backseat of your car, pretending to fall asleep after some time.

Your assistant tried to call anyone related to him, to come pick him up from your house because he seems too drunk to even stand on his own feet. But since no one was answering, they had no choice but to get him in your house, leaving him on the couch before they left.

It was always easy, so damn easy. He couldn't help but laugh. Drunk, him? He never got drunk in his life. Alcohol seems to have no effect on him.

He made his way to your room, getting next to the bed and looking at you sleeping. How dare you be so at peace when he's there? You were panicking all over the place last time he wrote you a letter, crying and refusing to talk to anybody if it wasn't for work. And now you act like you forgot about it.

He stood in place, looking down at you with an expressionless face as he can't think of anything at the moment. He got this far, so what? He could scare you more, give you a reason to hate him but at the same time all he wants to do is stand there all night and look at you.

He took his phone out, taking a quick picture of you before he put it back in his pocket.

He sat down at the edge of the bed, not far from where you're sleeping, looking out the window and then back at you. You had quite a nice view, no wonder you always seem to be in a hurry to come home.

Should he do something mean? Leave another letter in your home to see your reaction the next day. He could put it in one of your pockets and act like he doesn't remember anything besides going to the bar to drink. Maybe even leave the front door open and say some shit about hearing something while he was asleep.

But before he could think of anything more, you extend a hand, grabbing him by his shirt and trying to drag him closer. Like before, he just stood in place, looking down at you who seemed to pull harder. Were you mistaking him for the blanket or something? Unfortunately for you, he won't take off his clothes until you do so.

"Mm." you groaned, opening your eyes to look at the white haired man confused. "Ah.." you rubbed your forehead. "Fuck." that was the first time he heard you swear. "Come here." were you still sleeping? Because he doubts you'd react that lightly to him being there. But you were calling for him, and he wouldn't dare to say no to you. So he got in that bed, getting all cozy next to you and waiting for your next move.

For a moment you just touched him, moving your hand on his face, trying to feel something before it went lower on his body. He stood there, observing your clumsy actions and letting you do whatever you wanted with him. Your hands kept wandering, from his chest to his abs under his shirt, and now you were tugging at his pants, trying to see what you didn't got to see until now.

You were funny, the way you looked surprised whenever you discovered something new about him. "Don't do that." he said when you kept trying to get your hands in his pants.

"I want to see it." you pout, looking at him for a moment before you moved his shirt out the way, exposing his lower abdomen. "If you're as big as it feels." his heart skipped a beat, he couldn't help but cover his face with his hands. Do whatever you want, he'll hold back so you can explore as much as you want. "Ohh!" seriously, he can't even look at you when you make those faces. He was biting his lips so hard, he's afraid he might moan before you even touch him. "Why are you so big? Look at the size." his cock twitched, making you let out another surprised sound.

"Touch it." he said between his teeth, looking at you between his fingers and at what you're doing.

Your eyes moved on his, a serious expression on your face before your eyes went back to his dick. Can you even fit something like this inside you? The size was just ridiculous, but that didn't stopped you from touching it. Moving your hand around and studying like it was the first time seeing a cock.

He was bucking his hips forward in your hand, breathing heavily as he tried to keep himself from touching you. This was the first time you ever showed interest in him, he can't just fuck this up.

"How does it feel?" you asked, looking at the way he throws his head backwards, his chest rising and falling down.

Good, it feels so fucking good. He might go crazy from how soft your hand was. He moaned, not even being able to let out words, or think of a way to respond to you.

"I want that too." you took your hand away, making him to finally look at you as you took your clothes off. Now sitting on top of him, taking his cock back in your hand and trying to take him inside your pussy. But it didn't matter how much you're trying, it was impossible to get at least his head. It hurts, the more you try the more frustrated you became. "It doesn't fit." his dick twitched again. You're killing him, you're saying stuff he didn't imagine you to say, and it was killing him inside.

"I'll make it fit." he pushed you off him, pinning you down into the bed as he got in between your legs, placing kisses on your body as he went lower and lower, until he got to your pussy.

He loved the way you taste, it was better than he imagined. So much fucking better. It was no wander he was trying to devour you, I mean, who knows when he's going to do this again. So he might as well do it until he memorizes your taste.

Your hands went through his hair, tugging at it lightly as you let out soft moans, even cursing under your breath from time to time, letting him know how good you were feeling.

He pulled a few orgasms out of you, loving way too much the way your thighs wrapped around him, or how you're trembling, looking at him with teary eyes and you only seem to want more.

He'll give you more, he'll give you as much as you ask for, fuck, even more. He'll make sure to make you fit him, prepare you so good that you could only fit his cock from now on. He'll give you a reason to keep going back to him.

He got up from between your legs, sitting next to you as he got his hand back to your pussy, slowly pushing two fingers inside and making you gasp. "Is it good?" he whispered in your ear, feeling the way you clench around him. All you did was to nod, looking at him with big doe eyes and leaning more into him, to feel more of his warmth.

"Deeper." you said when he didn't went more than halfway through, moving his fingers at a slow pace that it left you hanging, almost giving you no friction whatsoever.

He kissed you quickly before moving his eyes back on your pussy, resting his cheek against your head. Be careful what you're wishing for, he'll go so deep that you'd feel him in places you never knew existed. It's already hard to hold back, but if you keep provoking him he might let his mind slip for a moment.

So, doing just as you asked him to, he got deeper, curling his fingers upwards and making you squirm. He kissed you again, this time taking no break as he kept bullying your insides, making your walls get tighter around him. How is he going to live without this? How can he go back home and act like everything is normal after this? That's why he couldn't help but move faster, in a irregular pace as he kept stopping from time to time only to go rougher. So you wouldn't get too used to him.

You were a moaning mess, and he seems to only want you to lose your mind, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you, kissing you as he made you turn around so he could do it from another position. He wants to go even deeper, to get back at your words, for requesting unnecessary things when he was going to give you what you wanted anyway.

"One more, come on baby. Give me one more." for how much longer is he going to say that? He's starting to get on your nerves at this point. But in the end, he finally took his fingers out of you. Dragging you closer to him so your back could be pressed against his chest, one of his arms under you head as he kept your hair away from your face, so he could be able to look at you. "You'll fit me now." he whispered in your ear, dragging your hips back and grabbing one of your legs, spreading them apart as he start whispering more filthy words in your ear. "Look at how you're taking me in." he said, waiting for you to say something, but to his surprise, you're long gone into the dream world. Sleeping soundlessly in his arms, like you forgot that he was even there.

He can't believe this. You actually fell asleep. You really dared to fall asleep and leave him there after you dragged him in your bed. The audacity you had. He's going to make sure to give you a hard time tomorrow for this. So, he too fell asleep next to you. A bit hard to do so, but he managed somehow.

The next day you woke up with your head killing you. You shouldn't have drank that much, how could you have been so dumb.

You were about to turn around when you realized that someone was in your bed, a pair of muscular arms around you, and someone breathing into the back of your neck. Your heart stopped working, you froze in place as you saw your soul leaving.

"Morning." a masculine voice could be heard from behind you, and you feared that you knew exactly who it was. He pressed his body into yours, letting you know you were both naked, and feeling his hard cock pressed against your back.

You wanted to cry, you wanted to run from there and not look back for a single moment. How could you have been so stupid, how could you just do that. Just how drunk did you got?

"Don't tell me you're planning on running away." he whispered into your ear, making you flinch. "You dragged me into your bed, put your hands all over me and now you're going to leave me after you used me as you pleased? I had no idea you were that type of person." you whined, because that's all you could do in that moment. What other explanation do you have?

"I can explain." he pressed his cock into you harder, making you yelp.

"Oh yeah?" one of his hands traveled on your body, now going up towards your boobs, making you gasp when he groped one. "You kept me up all night." you cried at his words. "Don't you remember the way you got on top of me? Trying to get my cock inside then crying about how big it is." you closed your eyes shut, trying not to let out another whine from remembering what happened last night.

"I'm sorry.." what else could you say besides that?

"You weren't sorry when you were telling me to go deeper." his hand went down your body, wanting to go in between your legs to spread them again, but you jumped out of bed.

"I'm sorry, alright. I have no idea what got into me last night." you were really planning on running? Don't make him laugh.

"So you really just used me then, huh?" he stood there, in your bed. Half his body being covered by the blanket while the other was all naked, his skin exposed to you and he didn't seemed to me ashamed at all by what happened.

But if you think about it, he was the one who got a bottle of a really strong liquor and dragged you to the corner of the bar, making you have a glass with him. "It's your fault too." his eyes wided, looking at you like he didn't expected to hear that. "I might have dragged you in my bed, but if you didn't liked it you wouldn't have stayed." he smiled, finally letting his mask drop as his body language suddenly changed. He looked more relaxed, a smirk on his face as he uncovered more of his body.

"Come here. Let's continue from where we were." you moved you eyes away from him, not daring to look in his direction as you could see his cock. "Don't be shy now. You weren't last night, so why should you be now?" you're not going to listen to his nonsense anymore. "You don't want me anymore? How sad." he looked at the way you were going to your closet. "I still want you though." you ignored him as you went to get dressed. But you couldn't even do that in peace because he got behind you, wrapping his arms around you, and resting his chin against your head. "You should wear that, it looks good on you." he pointed at some dress you had in there.

"I'm not going anywhere today." you want to be comfortable, not dress up for nothing.

"Then wear nothing. I like it when you have nothing on." you could feel that, since he made it sure to let you know he was still as hard as before.

"Here." you said as you picked some clothes that were clearly too big to be on your size. "You can wear this." now that's he's thinking about it, something doesn't add up.

"Why do you have male clothes in your closet?" who else wore these? And you dared to give them to him like it was nothing too.

"I like buying them since they're comfortable." oh, that was an option too. Why didn't he thought of that? I mean, it's been quite a while since you last been in a relationship, and he knows that since he always knows what you're doing. What if he's not paying attention to you one time and you get married? He can't possibly let you do that. That empty spot in your bed was reserved to him. "We needed to talk." you said after you got dressed, getting out your closet and walking outside your room.

"About what?" he knows this moment. You always make people sign an NDA before you get into a anything deeper. But what he doesn't like about your relationships is that it's almost never too intimate, you just go out, eat, spend some time together and then that's it. Did one of those fuckers left you disappointed and now you're avoiding contact with other people? How sad. But well, since you have him now you don't have to think about that anymore. He'll get you drunk on his dick, and he'll make sure you only have eyes for him.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know if we can continue this." huh? That wasn't what you were supposed to say. "We still have to film the movie, and then the promotions. I don't want anything awkward between us."

"What about after?" you didn't said a thing, only looking down at your feet before looking at him. "So you did play with me, huh?" perhaps this was your revenge for making you feel weak. He can't believe you actually knew of his doings and you didn't said a thing.

"If you still feel the same after everything is done.." huh? What did you just said? You were actually going to give him a chance? The NDA still sounded better, and he'll sign it in a blink of an eye if you do hit him with one.

He thought that something would change, that you'd be more open to him. But no, you were still as distant as ever.

You were playing with him, weren't you? You were just playing dumb because you knew how he actually was feeling. Well, he too can tournament you. From that day onward he kept writing you everyday, placing the letters in really inconvenient places and watching your reaction from not that afar if he could.

He made sure to not let you rest a single moment while you were on the set. It did not lasted for long whatsoever, because the filming soon ended and the film was sent to editing, giving everybody a break until the promotions starts.

You skipped the party, lying about how you got a cold and you didn't want anyone else to catch it, so you stayed at home.

You still remember the day the trailer was published, the way your phone was blowing and how you didn't dared to even look at it that day. But when you did turned it on, everything was worse than you imagined.

The trailer opened with a scene of the city, then it got to the point of where the conflict started, and as you watched more, the more scenes from the movie were put in, the fighting, the peaceful times, and it ended with you and Satoru kissing against a wall. A big long scenes of just the two of you almost fucking in there, and you couldn't be more embarrassed.

The comments? You could smell them from a mile away. You could hear screamings and whistles, like you knew exactly what people were talking about. And you were right because when you opened that section you were met with people talking about you and your costar rather than the trailer itself.

"Was the last scenes necessary?" a comment said, and you couldn't agree more to it. But the replies under it said otherwise.

Your social medias? Filled with people purring about you and Gojo. And he seemed to enjoy this as he kept liking comments about the two of you. And now people were officially calling him your husband. He was the one demanding to be called yours, not the other way. Because you weren't his property, he was yours.

You tried to get out the house in god knows how many days, finally going to the agency to talk to your manager about the situation. Can't you calm it down somehow? And the answer was no. The media was responding so positively about this, you couldn't just say something about it when you were put in such a good light. I mean, look, there were so many people requesting for you appearance than any other times before. Your team was busy responding to phone calls and emails for you.

So many people wanted you in their movies, because if they get you they also get Gojo. Since he apparently, you have no idea when, said that he won't act in a movie unless you're there. And if you accepted a role, then they automatically get Satoru too. Killing two birds with one stone. Having two of the most hot actors, who happened to be a so called power couple, acting in their movie was a free pass to the most sold movie of the year.

But you didn't even looked at those offers, no matter how good they were. You don't want to get involved with him anymore, he was only going to bring you problems.

Instead of accepting any offers, you decide to make a quick appearance on some big show that only asked for you to participate. The first thing you heard today that didn't involved Gojo's name into it.

You were so happy to go there, all a smile and stress free knowing that you don't have to get involved with that guy any time soon.

Did you really think that it was going to be that easy? You just got there on the set and you were met with one of the questions you were trying to avoid.

"First of all, I'm a big fan." the host said when you sat down on the couch. "But I don't really wanna say much so your boyfriend won't get jealous." you awkwardly laughed. "How is he, btw?" you had no idea what to say.

"You know." you said, biting your lip and trying to think of an excuse. "We both been busy." you don't even know in what county is he right now.

"I'm sure you are." the interview went on, moving to other discussions and you managed to forget about the white haired man for a moment. "Hold on a second." the host said as they talked to a staff member. "So, um, I was informed about something. And, Y/N, we actually have a gift for you?" how sweet, you thought. Only to be welcomed with your costar on the set, making the audience clap. "What a surprise, right?" you smiled, putting on your same old business smile on as you tried to keep your composure.

"I was nearby and I was thinking why not paying a visit." he lied as he got closer to the couch.

"It's always nice to have you here." the host said. "Please sit down, I actually wanted to ask about the new movie you two played in."

"I'd love to but I'm kinda in a hurry." he leaned down towards you, placing a quick kiss on your cheek and messing with your hair for a moment. "You two have fun." he said as he got away from you. "I have to go now. I wasn't even supposed to stop to begin with." he waved as he left, making the audience sound way too happy about this.

"Relax, no need to be shy." the host said, looking at your expression. "We already saw the trailer, it's nothing we haven't seen already." you wanted to cry. "So, about the movie. Does it have more of those scenes or were we deceived with the trailer?" you'll make sure to pick a written interview next.

"I'm not really sure if I should talk about it.." you tried to change the subject.

"It's not like you're spoiling the movie for us. We're curious about you and your partner." and that's what you don't like.

"Well.." everybody's eyes were on you. "Let's just say that you'll see more." that was enough to make the crowd go crazy.

Because of that guy now you can't even deny that you two aren't together anymore.

You would have been alright with all of this if the nothing happened between the two of you, and if Gojo felt the same way as you. But he seemed to push the idea of something happening between the two of you to the public. It was driving you crazy because you didn't know how to react. You always told yourself that you won't get involved with anyone from the industry, that you'll make a few more movies and then retire, find someone simple and live an almost normal life.

But instead you're here, stuck with media actually approving of this non existent relationship.

You have to talk to Satoru next time you see him. But you never really got the chance to do that in private when the promotions started.

Interview after interview and it only looked like you were surrounded by more and more people. And he didn't wanted to talk to you when you tried to pull him aside, talking about how people will think something inappropriate about the two of you when he was the one who was saying stupid things in front of the camera.

Now it was the premiere, having to stay arm in arm with him the whole time. And he doesn't hold back even for a moment, letting his hands roam around your body and making the crowd go insane.

"Let's talk." you whispered to him, making him lower his head so he could hear you.

"What about?" he was playing dumb, he already knew what you wanted to say.

"Do you have some time later?" you said as you wrapped your arm around his, following his lead as he was guiding you around the red carpet.

"Who knows." he said that, but at the after party you managed to trap him in a corner not allowing him to go away before he had a talk with you. "There are people watching." a smile on his face as he said that, looking at your angry face as you had him pinned to the wall.

"I don't care. You're going to run again." look at how the roles switched. He had no idea you would actually try to confront him.

"Then." he wrapped his arms around you, looking down at you and grinning from ear to ear. "What do you want to talk about."

"People are thinking that we really are in a relationship." your current position wasn't any better either. People were giving you looks like you were being perverts in public.

"They are?" why was he acting shocked when he was the one feeding that idea to others.

"We don't have to pretend anymore." you said, but that only made him to drag you closer.

"You said you'd give me a chance after we're done with the movie." you said a lot of things that you didn't mean, why was this any different.

"I just said that I don't want people to think we're in a relationship. What do you not get?" snap at him more, he can't be any happier than he's at that moment. He leaned down, his face getting closer to yours and placing a kiss on your cheek.

"Keep your promises, don't disappoint me." you huffed, turning your face in another direction only for him to turn it back towards him and kiss you on your lips. "Let's get out of here. It started to get boring anyway." why did you listen to him was a mystery, why you followed him to his car and back to his house was something you couldn't figure it out. And how you ended up in his bed? You can't really respond to that either.

He was kissing you, hands under your clothes and trying to get them off as fast as he could. Moaning into your mouth whenever you touched him, pushing his body into yours and trying to become one with you in a way or another.

How could you think that you could leave him? What would he do if he doesn't have you? What is he supposed to do from now on if he can't think about you 24/7? To even dare to think about abandoning him, he's going to punish you for this.

"Turn around." that stupid dress was in his way, he can't believe your stylist really made you wear this. What if there are fuckers out there who still dares to look at you even after he made it very clearly who you belong to.

Well, whatever. He'll make sure to get rid of that stylist of yours. Not a big problem.

He kissed your back as your skin became exposed to him. With a swift movement taking your panties off and throwing them somewhere easy to spot, to not forget to take them later.

You had to tell him to take his clothes off so you could catch a break, otherwise he would have took you there from how impatient he was.

You just stood there, at the edge of his bed, one leg over the other and looking at him trying to take off his tie faster. He really had to wear a fucking suit, now look at him, he was about to rip it off him. And look at you, you look so calm about this, enjoying seeing him struggle while he was losing his mind. "Undress me." he looked down at you, taking a few steps closer to you, and taking your hand in his and placing over his white shirt to unbutton it.

You might as well do it, you don't see why not. But the problem was him and his stubbornness. Kissing you, almost pushing you in bed while you were just trying to do as he said. It took a long time, and the task seemed to never end, but here you were now, with him on top of you and making you wrap your legs around him. No fancy party could make him miss this, in fact he couldn't even care about that damn premiere to begin with.

His hands were traveling on your body, touching you in some of his favorite places. You were so warm, he couldn't help himself. How you gasp whenever he's groping you, dragging you closer to him so he could feel you even closer, even if there was no more space left between the two of you.

"Put it in already." you demanded, but he wasn't going to just give it to you yet. What if you struggle like last time? He can't let you say such dirty words again or you might not be able to walk at all tomorrow.

"There's no rush." you can act as cute as you want, he's going to take his time with you. After all, you need to see how good he can treat you, make you feel so good that all you'll remember is his name. He kissed your forehead before he moved his eyes on his hand that was going in between your legs. "Look how wet you are." you were a bit embarrassed about it. "And you said that you don't want me." your body can be more honest sometimes, and he'll love to learn more about it.

He got some of your juices on his fingers, moving it around your clit to see the way your body tensed immediately. Weren't you a needy one? He kissed the side of your face before pushing two of his fingers in, paying attention to the face you were making and at the way you were sucking him in.

He moved his hand at a relatively slow pace, it was more about to make you feel the way you're taking him, how deep his fingers can go compared to yours, or anybody else. You can only feel like this because of him. See the way you're still so tight? That's because he wasn't there to stretch you out the way you needed.

"Keep your eyes open, alright baby?" he spoke to you in a baby voice, making you feel like he was mocking you. "Don't hide from me." can't he just fuck you already? Why was he playing around so much.

You did tried to do as he said, keeping your eyes open and trying to avoid eye contact with him because it made your pissy clench. This was so embarrassing, the way he was taking his sweet time and giving you almost no friction at all, and how he seems to enjoy this. Like torturing you was bringing him pleasure.

He didn't let you say a word and smashed his lips against yours, placing his palm against your clit as he finally started to move like he means it. Curling his fingers up so hard it got you squirming and letting out a few moans. And you never seem to stay in place, moving around and arching your back every time he was hitting something that makes you see stars.

You were a mess, the way you were so wet that your juices got on his bedsheets, and the noises your body makes were so obscene and loud it was hard to ignore.

He noticed the way you look at him, pleading for some mercy like you were at your limit about to break. But there was so much more in you, one orgasm wasn't going to stop him from giving you another. And he swears on his name the next one will be even mind blowing.

That's when he took his hand back to himself, making you sit more comfortably in bed before he positioned back in between your legs. This time he'll make sure you'll stay awake and take all of him, there was no other way.

You looked at his face and then at his cock, at the way he had his head at your entrance, almost pushing it in. You'll take him? Like, you're really going to fit him? "You can do it." he said when he finally pushed some of his cock in. "Fuck." he cursed under his breath. "I know you can do it." he let out a moan, throwing his head back for a moment before moving his eyes back on you. Your eyebrows furrowed, eyes closed and the cutest pout you ever showed him. It was like you really had a death wish, to fuck with his feelings like this and making his dick twitch. If he couldn't control himself any better he would had came right there on the spot. "Too much?" he said as he kept pushing his cock all the way in, making you nod as your words were stuck in your throat. "That's too bad."

You won't see any sympathy from him. Does he even knows what that means to begin with? You're too delicious, and the fact that he could pull even more expressions out of you made him push you over your limits.

So here he was, moving in and out of you way slower than he wants, rubbing your clit with his thumb and observing you like the pervert he is. He was salivating, drooling over your weak form as you showed him your off guard self. His cock twitching every time you let out a moan, and making you jolt at the sensation.

"Does it hurt?" he asked as he kept looking down at you, moving his hips in the same old motion. You nodded again, eyes still closed and biting your lip because of how he made you feel. He'll make it hurt even more, don't think that you can rest yet just because he's going easy on you. Fuck, he wants to sink his teeth into you so bad, leave marks all over your body as he rams his cock in and out of you.

But then you looked at him, big teary doe eyes that had him seeing a flash before him. He almost came, like, he almost cum just because you looked at him. If you want him to keep it together you have to talk some sense into him, because he doesn't think he can recover from that.

"You can move." no, don't give him a green light. Torment him more, play with his feeling and edge him till he's losing his damn mind. Don't be so sweet to him, he'll end up locking you up if you do that.

He pressed his chest against yours, his mouth finding yours as he started kissing you like the most starved man on earth. He moved his hips without a warning, slamming into you like you were his toy, and yet demanding for your touch. He was pushing himself into you, trying to steal the air away from your lungs as he seemed more desperate with each thrust.

He was looking into your eyes, waiting for you to snap at him and push him off, or tell him that's he's being too rough so he could stop being so delusional. But you didn't, only dragging him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him just as needy as he was, both of you being a moaning mess. And not letting go of each other even after you came, wanting to feel even more. To cum again and again, and to be filled by him to the brim, even if you knew that would bring you some serious problems later when you finally come back to your senses.

The next day you woke up with a sore body, your skin aching all over the place, and barely being able to get up the bed.

That didn't stopped you from getting dressed with some clothes you found around the room, what you can only assume it was his since they were way too big.

You got out the room, in hope to find your phone or maybe the white haired man so he could get you back home. And now you were in the living room, looking around for your things. Instead finding a letter, that seemed way too familiar.

That handwriting, you could recognize it everywhere. And that damn signature, the fucking S.

It was one of the letters he didn't managed to 'give' it to you yet. And honestly, you don't know if you should be relieved or terrified because this one was worse than anything before.

You turned around, paper still in your hand and looking at the tall guy who had his back pressed against the wall. He was expressionless, no thoughts behind his head as he seemed to stare at you like he was looking into the void.

It was him, that damn son of a bitch. He played with you all this time and you had no idea.

"I made you breakfast." he said, not every caring if you found out about his doings or not. "Come while it's still hot." he let out a laugh at your expression. You never hold back, do you? Can you at least try to not look like your about to kill him?

[spyruce]

“You can use Jon and John interchangeably!” The h makes him sound civilized. And Jonathan Sims, the Archivist, is anything but civilized.

I cannot find OP’s post about this again but I had to share my truth with the people.

[dramaticals]

DRAMIONE FIC RECS + WHY YOU SHOULD READ THEM — 100k+ words edition

hogwarts: a home by coralcollective — reimagined horcrux hunt. draco is so down bad for hermione and the smut is crazyyy. theo/hermione friendship. pansy is the breakout character and you'll love her. there's nsfw art and inappropriate use of the malfoy signet ring. please check the tags! (it says incomplete on ao3, but it's only missing epilogues so don't be afraid of starting it)

word count: 372,978

chapters: 67/70

the commoner's guide to bedding a royal by olivieblake — god, this fic!!!! it's a modern royal au and the ensemble of characters make this whole world feel so alive. it's inspired by will/kate and harry/meghan and it's sooo cute. theo and daphne were the breakout characters and i love them dearly. if you're looking for a lighthearted romcom-esque, occasionally angsty (because duh!) fic, this is it!!! i probably read this in two days which is insane considering the word count, but that should just tell you how lovely this whole fic was. there's a second part to this if you're itching for more afterwards (and it's just as good!)

word count: 503,570

chapters: 45/45

draco malfoy and the mortifying ordeal of being in love by isthisselfcare — honestly if you haven't read this yet..... this is god tier. a CLASSIC. this should be taught in the schools. hermione's a magical researcher / healer and draco's one of the best aurors out there. he's assigned to protect hermione because she's in the midst of a big discovery. hermione's not happy about it and draco isn't either. slow burn!! idiots in LOVE!! forced proximity!!!!! EMBEDDED ART!!! honestly this is the fic that made me want to learn how to bind which is so serious and if you haven't read this yet you need to.

word count: 199,548

chapters: 36/36

the disappearances of draco malfoy by speechwriter — this is my new canon. it's a deathly hallows rewrite where draco accepts dumbledore's offer to fake his death and go into hiding with the order. enemies to friends to lovers. i honestly can't even remember what happened in canon because this is IT for me.

word count: 289,780

chapters: 33/33

this world or any other series by olivieblake — includes clean (book one) and marked (book two). anything by olivieblake should be a must-read, i swear to god. this one starts as a year 6 slow burn. draco and hermione are assigned partners for potions and it all snowballs from there. olivie writes so beautifully and her characterizations for hermione / draco are so good. slight warning for marked: this destroyed me and i pretend it doesn't exist, but it's still a must-read.

word count: 118,892 & 178,268

chapters: 31/31 & 39/39

rights and wrongs series by lovesbitca8 — you want fluffy dramione? read the first two parts of the rights and wrongs series. you want dark and heavy dramione? read the auction, an alternate universe of the fluffy dramione, where voldemort wins and they all get auctioned off to death eaters. please check the tags for the voldy wins au! all three were chef's kiss and coming from someone who isn't a fan of dark aus, reading the first two helped me get through the auction because you know where draco's coming from / what's in his head. you can just read the auction without reading the first two parts unless you like catching parallels and having more depth / context (which i very much love).

word count: 174,911 & 160,297 & 325,876

chapters: 36/36 & 24/24 & 41/41

[rqnarok]

LINGER | 4,3k

old man!logan x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Being another mutant who survived Charles’ seizures, you are forced to live alongside Logan. The things between you and Logan goes on and off, fragile and indefinite—yet it always lingers.

TAGS AND WARNINGS: smut, mdni! mentions of blood, death, and grief (not logan), lots of angst but lots of fluff too, old man!logan x mutant!reader but unspecified mutation so it’s up to you! minor injuries, nightmares, miscommunication, kind of slow burning (?), pining, logan calls himself ‘old man’ several times, petnames, reader being called ‘kid’ by logan, unrequited love but actually requited (just angst all over…), logan howlett is bad at feelings, love confessions, virgin!reader, dirty talk, praise kink, p with little plot, fingering (f receiving), insecure!reader and insecure!logan, logan loves reader, unprotected p in v.

NOTES: not proofread! bello! ‘m not new to writing but new to writing fan fictions hehe! old man!logan is kinda my everything and this fic is kindaaaa self indulgent. listened to “linger” by the cranberries while writing this :0 feel free to send reqs and feedback to my inbox. this was mere my writing practice and my attempt to gain motivation in life. oh, sorry for the spelling and grammar mistakes, eng is not my first language! hope this isn’t my first and last fic.. see u all <3 or not....:p

'Shamed what happened back in the East. 

A saying you heard but don’t know where. Even who said it. Still, you remember all of it—their cries of death, their pain, their suffering. 

A haunting vivid memory in X-Mansion, where all of your friends are lying on the ground, in pain—and you could not do anything. You just watched. In pain, too. There was a thought which you think that it was the end. You were already accepting it with open arms, welcoming your exit.

Then your mutation saved you from your fate. Your survival, at the price of grief. 

“You’re doing it again.” 

Jolted by his comment, you dart your eyes away from the road and into your lap. “Do what?” You mutter quietly, not sure if he even hears it. 

But he always does. “Never mind.” Logan sighs in the damp air. You both know it is better not to talk about what exactly happened back then. Talking is not what you two are best at either. “I asked you a question earlier, you hungry?” 

“A little, yeah. Yeah.” Your gaze sways to his driving figure: how his right hand grips the steering wheel way too tightly, how his soft blue shirt is all wrinkled, how his tired eyes look with those heavy eye bags, and the grey hairs all over his untrimmed beard. He looks worn out. But so are you.

The two of you have been doing this for God knows how long. Wandering from one place to the other with Charles in the backseat. Looking for a place to settle but not really looking for it either. It’s simply a suicide travel. 

He makes a turn towards a cheap-looking diner on your left. 

Northern Mexico. 

A place where you both decided to settle indefinitely. Alongside Charles, who lives in the abandoned smelting plant not so far away. Logan takes up a job as a limo driver in El Paso and every time you tell him you don’t want him to be so far away during the daytime, he always says: One of us has to earn the money, kid.

Kid. 

To this day, after time living together, you aren’t sure of the nature of the relationship between you and Logan. Companions? Friends? Strangers?

Well, one thing you are sure of is you are not his adopted child and he does not see you in that way, either. He sees you in the same way he sees Charles, as his responsibility. 

Before all this, you were aware of him: what he looked like, his mutation, his reputation. But you do not know him personally. You passed him once or twice in the hallways after your studies. That was it. 

All of a sudden, he’s all you have. The only other sane mutant you are fully sure, survived Charles’ seizure. Still, you two weren’t friends before and sure aren’t friends now. In this shared house, you and Logan are strangers—forced to live together on the sole base of sentimentality.

Deep down, you know there is something more. Something vulnerable, down there. Something fragile. There are moments like where-

Your thoughts are frozen by the sudden creaking sound of the front door. The sight of Logan all bloody and bruised entered your wandering vision. The book you were reading is now abandoned as you get up from the comfortable sofa. 

“W-what happened?” Rushing into him with quick movements, this is not the first time he returns all beaten up but it is still a blow to you every single time. You can’t stand the thought of losing another person in your life, even if you convince yourself that he is a mere stranger. 

His white shirt has reds in many parts, and he’s bleeding all over the house, “Some fuckin’ kids tried to mess up with the limo. F-fuck.” With the blood smeared all over his hand, he managed to get into the shared bathroom, his breath coming out short. 

“Wait!” You rushed to his figure with an aid kit in your trembling hands. He slouched forward, cursing himself. Gently, you wrap your arms around him before he falls and help him lean his back on the white tiles behind. 

He shakily opened the buttons of his shirt and you could see everything. While you grab all you need and start cleaning his wounds, he looks at you with his half-lidded eyes. The intense gaze that always makes you want to shy away from him—you are not so sure why. 

After a while, you kneel beside him and break eye contact, “Did you kill them?” you question him carefully as you tread his wounds. Not sure how he would answer tonight. 

Logan grunts when you touch one of his nasty wounds, still looking at you,  “No. But you should see them.” 

You feel uncomfortable at his reply, retreating your hands and facing the mirror, looking down at the sink, “I don’t want to see them, Logan.” At some point, as you search around for more supplies to treat his injuries that still haven’t healed by his mutation, you break down crying. Out of your realisation, you have been holding back your worries and sobs since you saw him. 

Logan, who notices this, pulls you abruptly into him and seats you on one of his thighs. “Hey, hey, why y’crying huh? Hm?” 

You hate this. You hate how you suddenly cry at the sight of him, at the reminder that this is all finite. His big calloused hand starts rubbing up and down your back, gently shushing you. You hate how he knows you all too well by now. 

“I told you to stop doing the job. I-I told you that this… this would happen. I’m always scared. I thought— ” You let out one big sob or whimper, you’re not so sure. Not when he’s cradling you in his arms like this. “You can’t heal like you used to, you can’t barely–”

“Hey, shh, pretty girl,” Pretty girl. You blush at that. “I’m here with you now, aren’t I? That’s all that matters.” He shushed you oh, so tenderly. Such a paradox could live inside a man like him. Logan forces himself to smile, “Aren’t I? Come on, feel me up.” Logan sits you up straight on his lap. 

He always does this. Giving out, you delicately place both of your hands on the sides of his face, feeling him up. He watches you brush around his greying beard while holding your waist in place, drawing circles on your skin. “There ‘ya go. I’m here.”

When you feel calm down and tired, you rest your heavy head on his shoulders, “Maybe I should take a turn going to town–” 

He cuts you off while lifting your chin, forcing you to look at him right in the eyes that you were trying so hard to dodge. Without him saying any words, you know he is saying no. Your assumption is confirmed when he shakes his head slightly, looking down at you sternly. 

“It’s just me and you, Logan.” You say meekly and defeatedly. 

“Exactly. That's why it’s gotta be me, baby.” 

Moments later, you continue mending his cuts. And moments after that, you’re both lying together on the bed. Holding each other in slumber. Your head on his chest, his hands on your back. 

Through these delicate moments, you know him. That he is not simply a stranger to you. That this means something more. 

But he does not talk about those moments. Which makes you feel like your perspective is an illusion that you made by yourself, untrue. A false memory that you created in your head because you do feel something for him. 

In the morning, you wake up alone. Logan is nowhere to be seen around the room. Only traces of his scent are left on the white sheets wrapping around your figure. 

When you open the bedroom door, there he is. Sitting on the kitchen chair, his slouched back facing you while he sips on his black coffee which he secretly hates. He likes the coffees that you frequently make for him more. You don’t know that. He never told you. 

“Logan?” you call out to him. But he didn’t budge away from reading the newspaper. As if you weren’t there at all. As if moments like last night never happened. As if it’s true that you are merely a responsibility to him. A burden, even. You hang your head low at his ignorance and retreat to your room.

Such a paradox could live inside a man like him. 

Other moments happened too. One afternoon, his phone suddenly rings while he is out visiting Charles. With all the self-control you have, you try to ignore it, ignore everything that connects to him because it upsets you. But your curiosity gets ahead of your mind and you pick his phone up. 

“Hello?” you place the thing on the side of your left ear. No sound, nothing, nada. Before you know it, you feel a presence behind you and Logan is looking down at you with that look again. 

Snatching his phone away from you, not so gently, he mutters, “How many times do I have to tell you not to touch my stuff, huh?” The way he remarks and the way he looks at you makes you feel small and embarrassed. These are the moments where he is not going to cradle you in his arms–you know that. 

Your eyes darted to the floor. The lines on the wood oak floor suddenly seemed very interesting, “I’m- Your phone wouldn’t stop ringing. So I thought–” 

“You thought? What? You have the right to?” Logan cuts you off before you finish your poor excuse of explanation. “You have your own pile of shit and I have mine. Stay out of my shit. You understand?” 

Sometimes there are sparks of rage inside of you that make you gain bits of confidence, “Well, we technically live in the same place, so–” 

Though, Logan quickly dims off that spirit by not letting you finish, “Understand?”

You limit yourself to a nod in agreement because you don’t trust your voice. Confusion often fills up your body to the brim. These are the moments you hate. How he treats you differently at one time and another. You hate how he makes you so weak. You hate how he has you wrapped around his fingers. You hate that you don’t have the same effect on him. 

“It’s not your fault, darling.” Charles reasons you one time when you visit him for weekly check-ups. “That man has issues! Even after all these years, I still could not fully understand him and his... complexities.” You force your lips to quirk up a little and pretend as if you justify that, too. But you're in so deep.

Weeks after weeks, it went on like that. You, confused. Logan, indifferent all the time. You miss his touches. Was it just a game to him?

Paralyzed, the color red clouded your vision. You see bodies lying everywhere, dead bodies. The room smells like dread. With what is left, your power manages to slow down the pain that rushes in you. Protect you from the incursion. 

Here, there is no way to hide. Their cries echo through the halls. Their screams still haunt you. 

If you could have saved yourself, you could have saved them too. But you watched them die.

You watched them die. 

You watched them die. 

Inside the dark of your room, you did not realize that you had been thrashing and screaming in your sleep. The nightmare came to you again. Grief shows through in the form of tears, flowing into your cheeks as you open your eyes in fear, “I let them die, I let them die, I let them die–” 

“Sweetheart?” a voice comes from outside your room. Near but so far away.

You kept repeating those words until a figure finally came up in front of you, Logan. He calls out your name, “Hey, no, no–” Now he is touching you all over, trying to stop you from moving rapidly and hurting yourself in the process. Sitting you in front of him and making you face him. Closing your eyes for a brief second, your chest heaving up and down, you remember again and you panic, “I-I watched them die–” your voice wavers. 

“No, shh, keep those eyes open. You’re okay. I’m here.” His hands hold your face and his thumb brush off some of the hair in your wet cheeks. 

“I could’ve saved them. They were dying, they were in pain–” You cry out as the scene on that day played out again. Daunting and haunting you without your consent. Always lingering around on the back of your neck. Only one person knows what it feels like.

Logan’s eyes soften while he remembers that bitter memory too, “So were you,” His voice coaks out, soothing you, “So were you. ‘s not your responsibility.”

At this, you put your arms around his neck and grip him tightly, finally comprehending what is happening. “Calm down, baby. Logan’s here. ‘M not leaving.” He hushed you back to your senses. 

After minutes of him comforting you in silence, his eyes dart to your bleeding lips which you bite to stifle your sobs. With much surprise, Logan parts them and caresses them. Looking at them then back at your eyes, then at your lips again. Your foreheads are now touching and you find yourself nose-to-nose to him.

In your chest, your heart beats so loudly that you fear he may actually hear it. Then with that look that he gives you again, every logical thought and pride you were trying to build, collapses inside you, making you putty in his arms. As you always do. 

But tonight, something more is happening, “Logan.” You managed to call out his name in a whisper, begging for something. He feels the same way too, “I know, baby. I know.”

Logan scans your face, searching for any signs of discomfort as he starts to kiss each one of your cheeks. He tells himself repeatedly in his mind, “No, not her. Anyone but her, you dipshit. You’ll lose her if you do this.” A belief that he has been telling himself every day.

What you don’t know about Logan, after all this time, is how he is afraid that if he touches you, if he shows you his feelings, you will be gone from this world. If he cares about you, he will lose you. He is in fear that the cruel world will take you away. As it always does to people he cared.

Bad shit happens to people I care about. And he managed to hold onto this thinking and compose himself every time.

Until now. 

Your whimpers and pleads get to him–he cannot hold back anymore, he doesn’t want to hold back anymore. He peppers your face with kisses, everywhere but where you need him the most, your lips. “L-Logan…” you feel your face getting hotter every moment. “Ah, p-please–”, you greedily grind your lower body onto his thighs. 

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He groans while breathing all over your face, “You have no idea what I would do to you, the shit I’d do for you.” One of his hands gets under your nightgown and he succeeds in squeezing your tit. “Ah!” you squeak in surprise and quickly get embarrassed when he chuckles at the noises you make. 

When your gaze meets him, the force can no longer be stopped. What you both try to bury deep down, what you two were locking away in a box, is bolting itself abruptly. The thumps of his heart match yours. There is no going back now.

While breaking a promise, he makes a new promise to himself: that he’d protect you before all the bad shit happens. He will not let any of it get to you. 

After a brief staring contest and lingering doubts, he loses himself, mutters ‘Fuck this shit’ under his breath, and locks his lips on yours, melting you completely into his embrace. You gasp into his mouth and tighten your hug around him. His tongue finds yours sensually as he cradles your head to deepen the kiss. It was the first time he kissed you. 

“It’s just you and me, kid.” He blurted out against your mouth and you could not conceal your smile. Whatever you both were trying to suppress, it’s now roaming free in liberation. 

His mouth grins at your reaction and before he can stop himself, he confesses, “‘M sorry for how I acted these days. This old man was so fuckin’ afraid of how things would turn out.” 

You were about to say it’s okay but he continues, “But he will try his best from now on. What d’ya think? Hm?” Logan looks over at you hesitantly, afraid of what you’d reply. His ‘confession’ does sound way better in his head, when he practiced beforehand. You didn’t know that, of course. 

A giggle went out of your lips, “I think I’d like that.” you say breathlessly before kissing him again. 

Our brain is meant to be effective. It is not designed to be right at all times. Well, sometimes we are right, but we experience the wrongs more. What we thought we knew, we don’t. What we thought we didn't know–maybe we do. Especially about another person and their feelings. Similar to what you thought Logan Howlett feels. 

Following that night, things had changed between the both of you. The ‘boundaries’ separating you two are torn into pieces, in a good way. Now you are reminded by the nature of your relationship through everything. When he comes back home to you every day, when he puts his arms around you while you are cooking dinner, when he kisses the crown of your head before sleeping, when he fixes your favorite kitchen chair, and many other whens. 

Including now, when he kisses you so roughly and gently at the same time, fueled by the desire he kept while he was still stubborn back. Logan hiked up your dress until he could feel your breasts, pinching one nipple.  “Missed you– missed you so much today.” He says while kissing down between your chest and your stomach, “Missed this,” somewhere in between. You are not so sure. 

“Tell me, did you miss me too, Little Missy?” Logan, who is kneeling before, tilts his head upwards so he can see your face. You cover your blushing face, shying away from him and his question like you are used to, “You know the answer.”

He picks you up from the kitchen with one hand and puts you down on your shared bed, “Oh, you don’t wanna say it?” You shake your head in an attempt to tease him. Lying down on your back and with parted legs, you can feel his rough beard while he kisses your inner thigh. “Aight' then, we may just see it.” 

By seeing it, he means ripping your white underwear, the one you adored the most and has a pink ribbon, “Shh. I’ll buy you another one.” Logan quickly says before he can hear your protesting remarks.  

“Really liked that one... ah!” The tip of his tongue probes your entrance without much warning, lapping up and down your cunt. “See, baby? You missed me so much. She’s dripping here.” 

You feel embarrassed with how he is looking at you down there as if he is inspecting you. Unconsciously, you try to close your legs slightly. Logan does not like this as delivers a soft spank to one of your butt cheeks. “So shy all the time when it’s just your old man.”  

Now, his rough hands are gripping each one of your thighs and keeping you in place. His tongue lapped at your pussy—from your hole to your clit, circling and sucking until you can feel his beard slicked up by your juices. Whimpering, your hands desperately pull at his hair, pulling him closer and closer as if he isn’t already eating you up. 

He chuckles darkly when you whine pathetically at the movement of his one thick finger entering your wet hole. “Such a pretty pussy, baby.” He huffed and looked up at you with pure animalistic need as his fingers worked your walls, hitting that gummy spot that had you crying.

“Please! P-please—Logan. Want you inside,” This plead makes Logan stop his actions and glance up at you, questioningly. You weren’t sure about a lot of things, but you are sure about this. “‘M ready, pleaseplease…”  

Logan has been denying you his cock for who knows how long. All this time, he gets you off by his mouth, thighs, fingers, anything except his cock. He always has an excuse, “You’re not ready for me, baby.” Or “This ain’t about me, kid.” Or “My old bones are too tired today. Next time, yeah?” Each one of them frustrates you. 

Your virginity is making him hold himself back. You know this, he knows this. Deep down, he still thinks he is a filthy man who does not fully deserve you and that he is ruining you. He thinks by not penetrating you by his cock, he gains some sense of decency but he really is just unsure. Not about you, no, never. About himself. 

But when you look at him with those big eyes while sprawling yourself bare to him, how could he deny you? “Are you sure? Fuck. Can’t hold myself back anymore.” Logan takes off his crumpled white shirt, undoes his belt, and tosses them away, making a clinking sound that echoes through the room. His eyes grew dark with raw desire as he brought down his pants and fists his large cock in his hand. All while looking at you. 

“Yes! Please, please, give it to me. ‘Can take it!” You snapped with excitement and lean up, pressed a kiss to a part of his greying beard—the older man grins at your eagerness. “You’re going to be the death of me, pretty girl.” Logan lifts both of your legs and puts his mouth on your mound once more, making sure that you’re ready and you haven’t changed your mind.

Between his hunger licks on your pussy and the probes of his thick fingers, he mutters, “I fuckin’ love you.” And that statement itself makes you cry out his name and come all over his fingers and tongue, “L-Logan!”

“Atta girl.” You arch your back in a euphoric state of your orgasm. He could smell you. Every part of you. “So beautiful. Can’t believe you’re all mine.” 

He helps you remove every fabric you had on, your pretty white sundress, your bra, your socks—everything that is separating you and him. Now you and he are completely bare, “All this for your old man, huh?” He mumbles the rhetorical question into the chilly air, his hands ghosting over your perked nipples and pinching them softly, then kisses each one of them. He goes down on you again and kisses your clit one more time. 

The sight of him makes your breath caught in your throat. You swallow your spit at the look of greying bread glistening with your cum, at the sight of his thick cock springing against his stomach. “Is my baby ready for me?” You nod your head eagerly at him, assuring him that this is what you want. 

With one hand on his cock, he lowers himself between your bodies, “Use your big girl words, darlin’” He nudges at your already wet entrance, waiting for your response, taking his time with you. 

“‘M ready..! I want this, want you.” You pamper kisses all over his face the same way when he comforts you during your nightmare. His forehead meets yours and he kisses your lips gently as a form of understanding your needs. “Hold on t’me, my sweet girl.” 

Then his tip slips inside and you gasp into his mouth, “Good girl. My good girl. You can take it.” You tighten your grip around him as he pushes himself deep inside you, “D-Doing so good, baby. Just a little more,” down to the hilt—his cock bottoms out, “There ya’ go, princess.” Logan coos at your trembling state. 

He swallows your moans with a hungry kiss, his tongue exploring the insides of your mouth. “Feel so fuckin’ good. I fuckin’ love you.” There he says it again while he pulls himself all the way out to just the tip, then all the way back in—making you throw your head upwards.

Logan growls and kisses your bare neck, leaving some marks on it but you don’t care, in fact, you want him to. “I love you too, Logan.” You utter those words to him as he rams into you, his thrusts going faster and faster as he loses himself watching you. The friction of his cock against the velvet walls of your cunt is addictive, the pleasure makes the older man grunts. 

He thrusts harder, his hips slamming into home, the sound of flesh hitting flesh fills the room, alongside your little ah ah ah's . 

"Cum for me, baby. Come for your old man." With one final, powerful thrust, he releases inside your tight heat, his warm seed filling you as he curses and lets his head fall onto your embrace.

"Ah!" You shudder as you clench tight around him and milk his cock. Your eyes rolled back in your head, your body giving out of control as you experience another release of the night. 

Logan lifts his head to scan over the scene before him. He had never seen anything like it and he had seen a lot of shit. Your figure is all fucked out and filled. He didn’t think anything could be more beautiful than what he has right now. And he says it again before bringing his lips into yours, “It’s just you and me.” 

You tiredly return his kiss and look at him with a soft smile, “It’s just you and me.” 

His meaningless and plain life becomes something again because of you. You are the anchor of his life and his reason not only to stay but to fight and protect. 

Logan knows there are things that can be stopped, but then there is love.

He is in so deep too. This time, the both of you willingly let it linger. It’s just you and him.

[landosjpg]

chicken shop date | ln

the one where your boyfriend gets invited to the chicken shop date and you’re not really happy about it.

lando norris x gender-neutral!reader

word count: ~1.1k

warnings: just reader being a tiny bit jealous and insecure & fluff at the end

note: based on this request. took me a little longer than it should had but i wanted to watch the interview before to know how to approach it, but hope you enjoy it!

"i'm just not really fond of the idea!" you huffed, sinking further into your boyfriend's couch, dramatically crossing your arms under your chest with pouty lips.

your reaction got a laugh out of lando and he let his body plop down next to you, looking over at your saddened expression with a soft smile on his lips.

"baby, come on. i'm gonna be late," he cooed, his fingers trying to reach for your chin to get you to look at him so he could give you a kiss goodbye, but you easily managed to turn your face in the opposite direction before his lips could touch yours.

this gesture got a sigh out of lando, making him drop his hand to your lap in defeat.

"it's gonna be alright," he said, his voice still sweet as he tried te reassure you, knowing that under your over dramatic reaction lied the anxiety of him getting even more popular.

just the previous evening, his team had informed him that he was scheduled for a new interview in the morning. when he finished telling you all about it after hanging up the phone, your eyebrows were furrowed and the pout you made hadn't left your face since that very moment.

the chicken shop date.

you usually watched the show, so you knew how big of an audience it had. it wasn't the fake dating part that worried you, but the huge amount of fans it would get him.

it was a little stupid, you knew, considering that he was one of the most popular faces of the sport. but you couldn't help the little insecurities that surfaced from time to time, thinking that he could find someone to replace you at any given minute.

lando's hand squeezed yours softly, making you get out of your mind and look back at him. he knew what you were thinking, so he gave you a reassuring smile before bringing your hand up to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles. so you gave in.

"just don't be funny. or nice," you said, trying your best to forget about your worries and trust that nothing would change. "don't be cute, either."

"i can do that," lando chuckled, and with your hand still in his, he leaned closer to you to finally peck your lips.

"good, cause i don't want to share my boyfriend with any more people," you added, making him smile as he pulled away and got up from his spot next to you.

he found your overprotectiveness rather cute sometimes, and every single time he tried to comfort you, reminding you that you were the only one he wanted.

with your little act over, you looked up at his figure in front of you as he gathered his things before leaving the house. he looked extra good; you had noticed how the color of his hoodie was bringing out the blue of his eyes a few minutes earlier and how his curls were still a little damp from his shower, one of them perfectly falling over his forehead.

he turned to look at you one last time, leaning to kiss your forehead and whisper an "i love you" before he left the apartment in a rush, your little tantrum surely making him arrive a good couple of minutes late.

୨୧

lando had asked you to join him in australia so you could spend a few days exploring the city before he had to go back to work. and naturally, you had accepted.

as any other day, you woke up in his arms, limbs tangled under the bedsheets and your cheek softly pressed against his bare chest.

you lazily turned around, trying not to wake him up, to reach for your phone to check the time. that was your intention, but as you saw your phone blowing up with notifications, you remembered.

the episode had come out only a few hours earlier.

not wanting to spoil yourself scrolling on social media, you quickly opened youtube and looked it up, feeling a little uneasy once again. you weren't sure what you could expect, lando hadn't said much about it when he returned home that day.

you couldn't help the smile that creeped up to your lips the second he appeared on your screen, his soft spoken voice warming your heart and making you snuggle closer to him, your back against his chest now.

you felt the grip around your waist getting a little tighter, his knees tucking behind yours.

"are you serious?" his voice was hoarse, his breath on your skin as he hid his face on your neck.

"you didn't think i wouldn't watch, did you?" you giggled when he pulled you closer to him, only getting a soft groan from his lips as an answer.

he didn't say anything else, just kept pressing soft kissis to your skin as you finished watching the interview, your smile growing wider at his shyness.

once you were done, you put your phone down and turned around to face him again. your eyes met his under the soft morning light, the corners of your lips moving upwards at the beautiful sight in front of you.

"it wasn't that bad now, was it?" he whispered, clearly referring to your tantrum the day of the filming.

"it was fun," you admitted, running your fingers through his curls slowly.

he hummed, letting his eyelids flutter close once again at your touch.

"i'm still not happy about sharing my boyfriend with new people," you playfully added after a few seconds, the little pout on your lips, but lando was quick to kiss it away. "and i could've asked you those questions myself," you sassed, making him roll his eyes with a chuckle at your words.

"maybe you should go on a date with me if you want to ask me those questions so bad," he said, trying to nuzzle his face on your neck again to hide his smirk.

"smooth," you giggled, wrapping one of your legs around his body and pulling him a little closer to yours. "i'd love to go on a date with you, baby."

he smiled at your murmured answer, kissing your jaw before mumbling himself, "tomorrow night then?"

with a slight nod of your head, you hummed and let your eyes shut close to enjoy a couple more minutes in bed with your boyfriend before the alarm went off.

[badnewswhatsleft]

rock sound #312 (nov 2024)

transcript below cut:

ROCK SOUND 25 ICON

FALL OUT BOY

A BAND THAT CAPTURED THE HEARTS, MINDS AND HEADPHONES OF A GENERATION OF KIDS WORLDWIDE, FALL OUT BOY UNDOUBTEDLY CHANGED THE LANDSCAPE OF THE ALTERNATIVE SCENE FOREVER, NEVER AFRAID TO EXPERIMENT, TAKE CHANCES AND MAKE BOLD CHOICES AS THEY PUSHED FORWARD. FOLLOWING A SUMMER SPENT EXPLORING THE 'DAYS OF FALL OUT PAST', PATRICK STUMP AND PETE  WENTZ REFLECT ON THEIR PATH FROM POP PUNK, HARDCORE MISFITS TO ALL-CONQUERING, STADIUM-FILLING SONGWRITERS AS THEY ACCEPT THEIR ROCK SOUND 25 ICON AWARD.

WORDS JAMES WILSON-TAYLOR

PHOTOS ELLIOTT INGHAM

Let's begin with your most recent performance which was at When We Were Young festival in Las Vegas. It was such a special weekend, how are you reflecting on that moment?

PATRICK: It's wild, because the band, I think, is going on 23 years now, which really came as a surprise to me. I know it's this thing that old people always say, 'Man, it really goes by so fast', but then it happens to you and you're just taken aback. There were so many times throughout the weekend, every 10 minutes, where I'd turn around and see somebody and be like, 'Holy shit, I haven't seen you in 18 years', or something crazy like that. It was hard not to have a good time. When I was going up to perform with Motion City Soundtrack, which was an exciting thing in itself, I turn around and Bayside is there. And I haven't seen Bayside since we toured with them. God, I don't remember when that was, you know? So there was so much of that. You couldn't help but have a good time.

PETE: I mean, that's an insane festival, right? When they announce it, it looks fake every time. The lineup looks like some kid drew it on their folder at school. For our band, the thing that's a little weird, I think, is that by deciding to change between every album, and then we had the three year break which caused another big time jump, I think that it would be hard for us to focus on one album for that show. We're a band where our fans will debate the best record. So it was amazing that we were able to look backwards and try to build this show that would go through all the eras - nod to Taylor obviously on that one. But it's also an insane idea to take a show that should really be put on for one weekend in a theatre and then try to take it around the world at festivals. The whole time on stage for this particular show production, I'm just like 'Is this thing going to go on time?' Because if the whole thing is working totally flawlessly, it just barely works, you know what I mean? So I give a lot of credit to our crew for doing that, because it's not really a rock show. I know we play rock music and it's a rock festival, but the show itself is not really a rock production, and our crew does a very good job of bending that to fit within the medium.

That show allows you to nod to the past but without falling fully into nostalgia. You are still pushing the band into newer places within it.

PATRICK: That's always been a central thing. We're a weird band, because a lot of bands I know went through a period of rejecting their past, and frankly, I encounter this thing a lot, where people have expected that we stopped interacting with older material. But we always maintained a connection with a lot of the older music. We still close with 'Saturday'. So for us, it was never about letting go of the past. It was about bringing that along with you wherever you go. I'm still the same weird little guy that likes too much music to really pin down. It's just that I've carried that with me through all the different things that I've done and that the band has done. So for us, in terms of going forward and playing new stuff, that's always the thing that's important to me; that there should be new stuff to propel it. I never wanted to be an artist that just gave up on new music and went out and played the hits and collected the check and moved on. It's all got to be creative. That's why I do it. I want to make new music. That's always why I do it. So something like When We Were Young is kind of odd really. It's an odd fit for that, because it's nostalgic, which is not really my vibe all that much. But I found a lot of nostalgia in it. I found a lot of value in looking back and going 'Wow, this was really cool. It was amazing that we did this, that we all did this'. That scene of bands, we're all old now, but it has taken off into such a moment culturally that people can point to.

Let's jump all the way back to the first ever Fall Out Boy show. There is very little evidence of it available online but what are your memories of that performance?

PATRICK: So the very first Fall Out Boy show was at DePaul University in a fancy looking dining hall. I actually applied to DePaul, but I never went there because the band went on tour. I think there were only two or three other bands. One was a band called Stillwell, who were kind of a math rock emo band, and then this heavier, more metallic band. And then we were there, and we had a guitar player, John Flamandan, who I have not seen since that show. He was only in the band for a week or two, and we were still figuring ourselves out. We had three songs and I had never sung before in front of people. I did a talent show at school one time when I was a kid and theatre kind of stuff where you would sing, but it was more in that context. And I was also a kid too. This was the first time ever that I'm the singer for a band and I was fucking terrified. We had a drummer named Ben Rose, really great guy. I haven't seen Ben in a million years, either, but we were still figuring ourselves out. The other thing is that all of us, with me being the exception, were in other bands, and all of our other bands were better than Fall Out Boy was. We were very sloppy and didn't know what we were doing, and so I don't think any of us really took it seriously. But there was a thing that was really funny about it, where even though we kind of thought we sucked, and even though we weren't really focusing on it, we had a lot of fun with each other. We enjoyed trying this other thing, because we were hardcore kids, and we were not the pop punk kids and the pop punk bands in town, that was like 'the thing', and we were not really welcome in that. There was a fun in trying to figure out how to make melodic and pop music when we really didn't have any history with that. It was very obvious that we didn't know what we were doing at the beginning.

So when did it begin to feel like things were finally clicking? When did you find your roles and what you wanted the band to be? 

PETE: In regards to the music, I liked Fall Out boy, way before I probably should have. I remember playing the early demos and it giving me a feeling that I hadn't felt with any of the other bands that I had been in. Now, looking back on it, I might have been a tad early on that. Then as far as the roles, I think that they've been carving themselves out over time. We've always allowed ourselves to gravitate to our strengths. Between me and Patrick, we'd probably make one great, atypical rock artist if we were one person. Because our strengths are things that the other doesn't love as much. But I think that what has happened more is it's less of a fight now and there's more trust. We have a trust with each other. There's things that Patrick will play for me or explain to me, and I don't even really need him to explain it, because I trust him. I may not totally understand it, but I trust him as an artist. On the other side of that, it's also very nice to have someone who can veto your idea, you know what I mean? It's nice to have those kind of checks and balances.

PATRICK: I had been in this band called Patterson, and all three of the other guys sang in kind of a gravelly, Hot Water Music vibe. I was not intending to be a singer, but I would try and sing backups and, it wasn't a criticism, but there was this vibe that, while I could do the gravelly thing, my voice was coming through and it didn't fit. It was too pretty and that became a thing I was kind of embarrassed of. So when Fall Out Boy started, I was actively trying to disguise that and mute it and hide behind affectation. Pete would really push me to stretch my vowels because that was in vogue in pop punk at the time. There were all these different ways that we were trying to suppress me, musically, because we were just trying to figure out how to do the things that the bands we liked did. But that wasn't really us, you know? It's really funny, because 'Take This To Your Grave' was recorded in three sections, about six months apart. Over the course of that time, I can hear us figuring it out. I think a really defining moment for me was 'Saturday', because I am not brave, I am not a bold person, and I do not put myself out there. When I was showing the band 'Saturday', we were jamming on the bit after the second chorus, and I was mumbling around, just mucking my way through it, and I did the falsetto thing. I didn't think anyone could hear me over us bashing around in Joe's parents house in this tiny little room. But Pete stopped, and he goes, 'Do that again'. I was so terrified of doing that in front of these guys, because you gotta remember, I was incredibly shy, but also a drummer. I'd never sung in front of anyone before, and now I'm singing in a band and I'm certainly not going to take chances. So I thought the falsetto thing was really not going to happen, but when I did it, there was this really funny thing. Somehow that song clicked, and it opened up this door for us where we do something different than everybody else. We were aiming to be a pop punk or hardcore band, but we found this thing that felt more natural to me.

As you embarked on Warped Tour, simultaneously you were finding this huge level of pop and mainstream success. How was it navigating and finding your way through those two very different spaces?

PATRICK: I used to work at a used record store and what shows up is all the records after their success. So I got really acquainted and really comfortable with and prepared for the idea of musical failure. I just wanted to do it because I enjoyed doing it. But in terms of planning one's life, I was certain that I would, at most, get to put out a record and then have to go to school when it didn't work out. My parents were very cautious. I said to them after 'Take This To Your Grave' came out that I'm gonna see where this goes, because I didn't expect to be on a label and get to tour. I'm gonna give it a semester, and then it will almost certainly fail, and then after it fails, I'll go to school. And then it didn't fail. Warped Tour was very crazy too, I was talking about this at When We Were Young with My Chem. Both of us were these little shit bands that no one cared about when we booked the tour. Then we got to the tour, and all these people were showing up for us, way more than we expected, way more than Warped Tour expected. So Warped Tour was putting both of us on these little side stages, and the stages would collapse because people were so excited. It was this moment that came out of nowhere all of a sudden. Then we go to Island Records, and I had another conversation with my parents, because every band that I had known up to that point, even the biggest bands in town, they would have their big indie record and then they would go to the major label and drop off the face of the planet forever. So I was certain that was going to happen. I told them again, I'm going to put out this record, and then I'll go to school when this fails. 

PETE: I think that if you really wanted someone to feel like an alien, you would put them on TRL while they were on Warped Tour. You know what I mean? Because it is just bananas. On our bus, the air conditioning didn't work, so we were basically blowing out heat in the summer, but we were just so happy to be on a bus and so happy to be playing shows. You go from that to, two days later, stepping off the bus to brush your teeth and there's a line of people wanting to watch you brush your teeth. In some ways, it was super cool that it was happening with My Chemical Romance too because it didn't feel as random, right? It feels more meant to be. It feels like something is happening. To be on Warped Tour at that time - and if you weren't there, it would be probably hard to imagine, because it's like if Cirque Du Soleil had none of the acrobatics and ran on Monster energy drink. It was a traveling circus, but for it to reach critical mass while we were there, in some ways, was great, because you're not just sitting at home. In between touring, I would come home and I'd be sitting in my bedroom at my parents house. I would think about mortality and the edge of the whole thing and all these existential thoughts you feel when you're by yourself. But on Warped Tour, you go to the signing, you play laser tag, you go to the radio station. So in some ways, it's like you're in this little boot camp, and you don't really even think about anything too much. I guess it was a little bit of a blur.

Pete, when you introduced 'Bang The Doldrums' at When We Were Young, you encouraged the crowd to 'keep making weird shit'. That could almost be a mantra for the band as a whole. Your weirder moments are the ones that made you. Even a song like 'Dance Dance' has a rhythm section you never would have expected to hear on a rock track at that time.

PETE: You know, I just watched 'Joker 2' and I loved it. I do understand why people wouldn't because it subverts the whole thing. It subverts everything about the first one. That's something I've always really loved, when I watch artists who could keep making the same thing, and instead they make something that's challenging to them or challenging to their audience. Sometimes you miss, sometimes you do a big thing and you miss, and we've definitely done that. But I gotta say, all the things that I've really loved about art and music, and that has enriched my life, is when people take chances. You don't get the invention of anything new without that. To not make weird stuff would feel odd, and I personally would much rather lose and miss doing our own thing. To play it safe and cut yourself off around the edges and sand it down and then miss also, those are the worst misses, because you didn't even go big as yourself. This is where we connect with each other, we connect by our flaws and the little weird neuroses that we have. I rarely look at something and go 'Wow, that safe little idea really moved me'. I guess it happens, but I think about this with something like 'Joker 2' where this director was given the keys and you can just do anything. I think a lot of times somebody would just make an expected follow up but some people turn right when they're supposed to turn left. That's always been interesting on an artistic level, but at the same time, I think you're more likely to miss big when you do that.

PATRICK: Going into 'From Under The Cork Tree', I had this sense that this is my only shot. It has already outperformed what I expected. I don't want to be locked into doing the same thing forever, because I know me. I know I'm not Mr. Pop Punk, that's just one of many things I like. So I would be so bummed if for the rest of my life, I had to impersonate myself from when I was 17 and have to live in that forever. So I consciously wanted to put a lot of weird stuff on that record because I thought it was probably my only moment. 'Sugar, We're Goin Down' was a fairly straight ahead pop punk song but even that was weird for us, because it was slow. I remember being really scared about how slow it was, because it's almost mosh tempo for the whole song, which was not anything we had done up to that point. But in every direction, in every song, I was actively trying to push the boundaries as much as I could. 'Dance, Dance' was one of those ones where I was seeing what I can get away with, because I might never get this chance again. We were on tour with a friend's band, and I remember playing the record for them. I remember specifically playing 'Our Lawyer…' that opens the record, which has that 6/8 time feel, and they kind of look at me, like 'What?'. Then I played 'Dance, Dance', and they're like, 'Hey man, you know, whatever works for you. It's been nice knowing you'. But I just knew that, on the off chance that I ended up still being a musician in my 40s, I wanted to still love the music that we made. I didn't want to ever resent it. It's ironic because people say that bands sell out when they don't make the same thing over and over again. But wait a second. Say that again. Think about that.

That attitude seemed to carry directly into 'Infinity On High'. If you may never end up doing this again then let's make sure we bring in the orchestra while we still can... 

PATRICK: That was literally something that I did say to myself this might be the last time, the likelihood is we're going to fail because that's what happens, so this might be the last time that I ever get a chance to have somebody pay for an orchestra and a choir. I always think of The Who when they did 'A Quick One, While He's Away' and there's a part where they go 'cello, cello', because they couldn't afford real cellos, they couldn't afford players. That's what I thought would happen for me in life. So I went in and thought, let's do it all. Let's throw everything at the wall, because there's no chance that it's going to happen again. So many things came together on that record, but I didn't expect it. 'Arms Race' was a very weird song, and I was shocked when management went along with it and had kind of decided that would be the single. I was in disbelief. It did not feel like a single but it worked for us. It was a pretty big song and then 'Thnks Fr Th Mmrs' was easily the big hit off that record. So then we have two hit songs off of an album that I didn't even know would come out at that point. But again, it was very much just about taking the risks and seeing what the hell happened.

As you went on hiatus for a few years, you worked on a number of other creative projects. How did those end up influencing your approach to the band when you returned?

PETE: On the areas of the band where I led, I wanted to be a better leader. When you're younger and you're fighting for your ideas, I don't think that I was the greatest listener. I just wanted to be a better cog in the machine. When you're in a band originally, no one gives you the little band handbook and says 'these are the things you should do', you know? I just wanted to be a better version of who I was in the band. 

PATRICK: There's a combination of things. 'Soul Punk' is a weird record. I love that record but I kind of resent that record for so many things. It's my solo record, but it's also not very me in a lot of ways. I had started with a very odd little art rock record, and then I had some personal tragedies happen. My EP that I put out far out sold expectations so then all of a sudden, Island Records goes, 'Oh, we think this could actually be something we want singles for'. I think we had all expected that I would be putting out a smaller indie record but then all of a sudden they were like 'oh, you could be a pop star'. So then I have to retrofit this art rock record into pop star hit music, and also channel personal tragedy through it. I hadn't ever really been a front man - I'd been a singer, but I hadn't really been a front man, and I hadn't really written lyrics, certainly not introspective, personal lyrics. So that whole record is so strange and muted to me. So I went from that album, which also failed so fucking hard - I should have gone to school after that one. But Pete had reached out to me just as a friend, and said 'I know you're in your own thing right now, and I know that you're not the kind of person that is going to be in my fantasy football league, so I'm not going to see you unless we make music. But you're my buddy, and that kind of bums me out that I don't see you at all, so I guess we have to make music'. I thought that was a fairly convincing pitch. It's true, that was what we do when we hang out - we make music. So we reconvene, and going into it, I had all these lessons that really made me understand Pete better, because Pete is the natural front end person. So many of our arguments and frustrations and the things that we didn't see eye to eye on, I grew to understand having now been in the position of the point man that had to make all the decisions for my solo thing. It really flipped my understanding of why he said the things he would say, or why he did things he would do. I remember early on thinking he was so pushy, but then, in retrospect, you realise he was doing it for a reason. There's so many little things that really changed for me doing 'Soul Punk' that were not musical but were more about how you run a band and how you run a business, that made me understand and respect him a lot more.

What are memories of that initial return and, specifically, that tiny first show back at the Metro venue in Chicago?

PETE: Those first shows were definitely magical because I really wasn't sure that we would be on a stage again together. I don't have as many memories of some of our other first things. We were just talking about Warped Tour, I don't have many memories of those because it is almost wasted on you when it's a blur and there's so many things happening. But with this, I really wanted to not take it for granted and wanted to take in all the moments and have snapshots in our own heads of that show. I did a lot of other art during the time when we were off, everybody did, but there's a magic between the four of us and it was nice to know that it was real. When we got on that stage again at the Metro for the first time, there was something that's just a little different. I can't really put my finger on it, but it makes that art that we were making separately different than all the other stuff.

Musically, as you moved forward, everything sounded much bigger, almost ready for arenas and stadiums. Was that a conscious decision on your part?

PETE: Patrick felt like he was bursting with these ideas. It felt like these had been lying in wait, and they were big, and they were out there, and whether he'd saved them for those records, I don't really know. That's what it felt like to me. With 'Save Rock And Roll', we knew we had basically one shot. There were really three options; you'll have this other period in your career, no one will care or this will be the torch that burns the whole thing down. So we wanted to have it be at least on our terms. Then I think with 'American Beauty...' it was slightly different, because we made that record as fast as we could. We were in a pop sphere. Is there a way for a band to be competitive with DJs and rappers in terms of response time? Are we able to be on the scene and have it happen as quickly? I think it kind of made us insane a little bit. With 'American Beauty…', we really realised that we were not going to walk that same path in pop culture and that we would need to 'Trojan horse' our way into the conversation in some way. So we thought these songs could be played in stadiums, that these songs could be end titles. What are other avenues? Because radio didn't want this right now, so what are other avenues to make it to that conversation? Maybe this is just in my head but I thought 'Uma Thurman' could be a sister song to 'Dance, Dance' or maybe even 'Arms Race' where it is weird but it has pop elements to it.

PATRICK: I had a feeling on 'Save Rock And Roll' that it was kind of disjointed. It was a lot of good songs, but they were all over the place. So when we went into 'American Beauty…', I really wanted to make something cohesive. I do think that record is very coherent and very succinct - you either like it or you don't, and that's pretty much it all the way through. By the time we got to 'MANIA', I had done all this production and I'd started to get into scoring. The band had done so many things and taken so many weird chances that I just felt free to do whatever. At that point, no one's going to disown me if I try something really strange so let's see what happens. 'Young And Menace' was a big part of that experiment. People hate that song, and that's okay. It was meant to be challenging, it's obviously not supposed to be a pop song. It's an abrasive song, it should not have been a single. However, I do think that record should have been more like that. Towards the end of the production, there was this scramble of like, 'Oh, fuck, we have no pop music on this and we need to have singles' and things like that. That took over that record and became the last minute push. I think the last half of that record was recorded in the span of two weeks towards the end of the recording to try and pad it with more pop related songs. I look at that record and think it should have all been 'Young And Menace'. That should have been our 'Kid A' or something. It should have really challenged people.

But we have spoken before about how 'Folie à Deux' found its audience much later. It does feel like something similar is already beginning to happen with 'MANIA'...

PETE: I agree with you, and I think that's a great question, because I always thought like that. There's things that you're not there for, but you wish you were there. I always thought about it when we put out 'MANIA', because I don't know if it's for everyone, but this is your moment where you could change the course of history, you know, this could be your next 'Folie à Deux', which is bizarre because they're completely different records. But it also seems, and I think I have this with films and bands and stuff as well, that while one thing ascends, you see people grab onto the thing that other people wouldn't know, right? It's like me talking about 'Joker 2' - why not talk about the first one? That's the one that everybody likes. Maybe it's contrarian, I don't really know. I just purely like it. I'm sure that's what people say about 'Folie à Deux' and 'MANIA' as well. But there's something in the ascent where people begin to diverge, you are able to separate them and go 'Well, maybe this one's just for me and people like me. I like these other ones that other people talk about, but this one speaks to me'. I think over time, as they separate, the more people are able to say that. And then I can say this, because Patrick does music, I think that sometimes he's early on ideas, and time catches up with it a little bit as well. The ideas, and the guest on the record, they all make a little bit more sense as time goes on.

'MANIA' is almost the first of your albums designed for the streaming era. Everything is so different so people could almost pick and choose their own playlist.

PETE: Of course, you can curate it yourself. That's a great point. I think that the other point that you just made me think of is this was the first time where we realised, well, there's not really gatekeepers. The song will raise its hand, just like exactly what you're saying. So we should have probably just had 'The Last Of The Real Ones' be an early single, because that song was the one that people reacted to. But I think that there was still the old way of thinking in terms of picking the song that we think has the best chance, or whatever. But since then, we've just allowed the songs to dictate what path they take. I think that that's brilliant. If I'd had a chance to do that, curate my own record and pick the Metallica songs or whatever,that would be fantastic. So it was truly a learning experience in the way you release art to me.

PATRICK: After 'MANIA', I realised Fall Out Boy can't be the place for me to try everything. It's just not. We've been around for too long. We've been doing things for too long. It can't be my place to throw everything at the wall. There's too much that I've learned from scoring and from production now to put it all into it. So the scoring thing really became even more necessary. I needed it, emotionally. I needed a place to do everything, to have tubas and learn how to write jazz and how to write for the first trumpet. So then going into 'So Much (For) Stardust', it had the effect of making me more excited about rock music again, because I didn't feel the weight of all of this musical experimentation so I could just enjoy writing a rock song. It's funny, because I think it really grew into that towards the end of writing the record. I'd bet you, if we waited another month, it would probably be all more rock, because I had a rediscovered interest in it.

It's interesting you talk about the enjoyment of rock music again because that joy comes through on 'So Much (For) Stardust' in a major way, particularly on something like the title track. When the four of you all hit those closing harmonies together, especially live, that's a moment where everything feels fully cohesive and together and you can really enjoy yourselves. There's still experimental moments on the album but you guys are in a very confident and comfortable space right now and it definitely shows in the music. 

PATRICK: Yeah, I think that's a great point. When you talk about experimentation too and comfort, that's really the thing isn't it? This is always a thing that bugged me, because I never liked to jam when I was a kid. I really wanted to learn the part, memorise it and play it. Miles Davis was a side man for 20 years before he started doing his thing. You need to learn the shit out of your music theory and your instrument - you need to learn all the rules before you break them. I always had that mindset. But at this point, we as a band have worked with each other so much that now we can fuck around musically in ways that we didn't used to be able to and it's really exciting. There's just so much I notice now. There are ways that we all play that are really hard to describe. I think if you were to pull any one of the four of us out of it, I would really miss it. I would really miss that. It is this kind of alchemy of the way everyone works together. It's confidence, it's also comfort. It's like there's a home to it that I feel works so well. It's how I'm able to sing the way I sing, or it's how Andy's able to play the way he plays. There's something to it. We unlock stuff for each other.

Before we close, we must mention the other big live moment you had this year. You had played at Download Festival before but taking the headline slot, especially given the history of Donington, must have felt extra special. 

PETE: It felt insane. We always have a little bit of nerves about Download, wondering are we heavy enough? To the credit of the fans and the other bands playing, we have always felt so welcomed when we're there. There's very few times where you can look back on a time when... so, if I was a professional baseball player, and I'm throwing a ball against the wall in my parents garage as a kid, I could draw a direct link from the feeling of wanting to do that. I remember watching Metallica videos at Donington and thinking 'I want to be in Metallica at Donington'. That's not exactly how it turned out, but in some ways there is that direct link. On just a personal level, my family came over and got to see the festival. They were wearing the boots and we were in the mud. All this stuff that I would describe to them sounds insane when you tell your family in America - 'It's raining, but people love it'. For them to get to experience that was super special for me as well. We played the biggest production we've ever had and to get to do that there, the whole thing really made my summer.

PATRICK: There's not really words for it. It feels so improbable and so unlikely. Something hit me this last year, this last tour, where I would get out on stage and I'd be like, 'Wait, fucking seriously? People still want to see us and want to hear us?' It feels so strange and surreal. I go home and I'm just some schlubby Dad and I have to take out the compost and I have to remember to run the dishwasher. I live this not very exciting life, and then I get out there at Download and it's all these people. Because I'm naturally kind of shy, for years, I would look down when I played because I was so stressed about what was happening. Confidence and all these have given me a different posture so when I go out there, I can really see it, and it really hits you. Download, like you said, we've done before, but there's something very different about where I am now as a person. So I can really be there. And when you walk out on that stage, it is astounding. It forces you to play better and work harder, because these people waited for us. The show is the audience and your interaction with it. In the same way that the band has this alchemy to it, we can't play a show like that without that audience.

[thef1diary]

Baby Jr | One

— Friendly Banter

Series summary: The teasing, fleeting touches became much more on the night Carlos won, the sexual tension between you two reached a breaking point. Perhaps it was that night, or the many nights that followed, but you were pregnant with his child, putting you in a difficult situation.

Series Masterlist

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work.

pairing: carlos sainz x reader

Warnings: allusions to smut but no actual smut yet

wc: 2.9k

Note: here it is, the first chapter of many more to come. lemme know what you think, feedback is always appreciated.

You had caught the eye of a certain Ferrari driver from the moment you joined the team. He always looked at you in fascination, having the urge to find a way to figure you out but that's all it was for the longest time. Until it wasn't.

Carlos Sainz vividly remembers the first time he set his eyes on you. He was on his way to leave the headquarters in Maranello while you were on your way inside. Carlos' gaze was watchful, almost heavy with judgment as you hurried in through the doors with more items in your arms than you should've been able to carry.

He almost stopped you to ask who you were, but he noticed the badge clipped onto your jeans, media personnel. You had already passed him before he could read your name, and shook his head knowing that your name was the more important detail compared to your role.

You hadn't noticed him that day, but he noticed you.

He didn't see you again until the new season came around, having almost forgotten about your brief encounter at the end of the previous year. He had to do a double take once he saw you setting up the cameras for some content he was supposed to record along with his teammate.

It was a simple video that required the drivers to answer a few questions sent in by their fans, something that should've been easy since they've done it before. But he couldn't focus on anything but you. Given that you were the ones asking the questions, reading them off the short stack of cards you had in your hand, he wasn't outed for being distracted.

Knowing the drivers still had a busy day ahead of them, you began packing up the items once the video was filmed. Keeping your eyes locked on the task, you expected the drivers to be led away by their PR managers, so you were surely startled once you heard a voice acknowledging you.

Carlos stayed back, and roaming your gaze for a split second behind him, Charles had left. You knew who he was of course, after all you followed the sport for many years before you were given the opportunity to work for one of the teams.

"I don't think we properly met, I'm Carlos." He extended his hand out and you gladly accepted, shaking it while introducing yourself. You found it sweet that despite being one of the two faces of the team, he still introduced himself like you didn't know who he was.

As a junior media employee who was still relatively new to the team, you were informed in advance that you would rarely be interacting with the drivers.

So it wasn't surprising that while working in the same team, you rarely saw Carlos in person. Working under Silvia—the head of communications—you would usually be the one tasked to edit the challenge videos, creating enough content from various footage to keep the fans engaged. The few times you did see him in person was to conduct media challenges that the team planned every once in a while to give the fans a chance to know the drivers underneath their helmets.

As the season went on, you found that you were indeed given the wrong information; you did in fact meet the drivers again and again. You were given many opportunities to travel with the team, and it would've been absurd if you denied those opportunities—not that you had a choice since you were needed at almost every race.

You were glad to experience the thrill of Formula 1 from the front row seats, able to watch all the sessions in the weekend itself but also be a part of the journey with the drivers that not many people get to see.

It was inevitable to befriend many people along the way, especially with their welcoming nature despite some news outlets suggesting otherwise. Formula 1 could be considered as one giant family that obviously had issues every once in a while but no one outside of the sport could relate to them like each other. Especially since it was described like a traveling circus by a few drivers.

While you had befriended many other employees whether it was within your team or others, you also spoke to the other eighteen drivers often.

But no other driver invaded your thoughts like Carlos did.

You didn't know if you were overthinking it all, but you believed that Carlos was a tad bit too friendly compared to Charles or even any other driver for that matter.

Whether it was a compliment that left you a blushing mess, a lingering look that followed you until you left the room, or even a small graze of his fingers against your back while crossing your path, you couldn't think of anyone but him lately.

You heard a Monégasque accent calling your name and you slowed your pace, allowing him to catch up to you as you greeted without needing to look to see who it was, "Charles"

"Here, it's still hot," he was holding two disposable cups of coffee in his hands, extending one towards you.

You gestured to your own hands, carrying one too many things again.

He sighed, "I still don't know how you do that." He stopped walking as he neared a surface to put down the cups. "Here, give it to me," he spoke but didn't let you make a decision as he grabbed the various folders, a clipboard, and a tablet from your hands. You were still holding on to a tripod and a camera but he freed up one of your hands so you could hold the cup.

"I will have to let you know, that tablet you're holding, is very valuable to the team," you stated, mainly in a joking manner because you knew he wouldn't do anything to it.

"Oh is it now? What's on it?" Charles asked once you resumed walking, this time sipping on your coffee before answering his question. "First, perfect," you hummed, gesturing towards the cup. "Second, it has all the schedules for meetings, interviews, and everything that you or Carlos could possibly need a reminder for during the weekend."

He gasped, almost offended, "I do not need reminders for anything during the weekend, not like Carlos does."

Despite how it may seem, your role didn't entail being a driver's assistant. In fact your job was to manage a few social media accounts and create content that included the drivers as much as possible but every now and then you also helped the company keep the public images of the drivers reputable.

Lately, Carlos had been finding reasons to talk to you, and most of that time would be spent reviewing his schedule multiple times throughout the day.

"He can be a little forgetful sometimes," you commented but Charles shook his head.

"A little? He needed you to remind him what time the race was."

You grimaced, knowing Charles was correct. "Well, you're his teammate so you know him better than I do."

"Yeah, I guess I'll ask him, thanks for the coffee," Charles stated as you two entered a meeting room. There were still fifteen minutes before it started, but you preferred to use that time so you could prepare yourself for all the notetaking it usually required. Since you were still a fairly new employee, you wanted to absorb all the information like a sponge.

Confused, you responded back, "you're the one who got the coffee."

He placed the items he was holding on the table, then noticing the time on his watch, a brief gasp overtaking his expression. "Thanks for the company then, I'll see you later," he playfully winked like he always did before leaving the room.

Moments later, a knock distracts you from reviewing the previous notes and stats from the last meeting. Thinking it was Charles, you ask, "did you forget somet- oh, Carlos."

"Are you busy?" He asks as he leans his forearms on the back of a chair. Shaking your head you respond, "not really, what's up?"

"I forget how crazy the crowds can get outside, so can I stay here for a few minutes?" You smile, "of course you can, come sit." He rolled a chair out and sighed in relief after finally getting off his feet.

Carlos closed his eyes for a moment relishing in the moments of silence in his hectic life. It didn't last long as you hummed a random tune which you usually did while working. It was so faint but since it was completely silent otherwise, Carlos' ears perked up as he heard it.

Instead of looking for the moments of silence he thought he needed earlier to even do a simple task as breathing, Carlos leaned forward with his usual watchful gaze focused on you. "Are you planning on more ways for us to make a fool out of ourselves?" He asked.

You chuckled, "I would never do that." Carlos gave you a look that indicated he didn't believe you.

"The last challenge was planned by you, no?" He countered and when you sheepishly smiled, he knew he was correct.

"You know, Charles is right," you spoke after a few moments of silence.

"How so?" He leaned back, stretching his arms above his head for a moment that almost caused you to lose track of your thoughts. You've gotten better at keeping yourself calm and collected around Carlos lately, but you still took a little moment to appreciate how his muscles flexed in the full sleeved shirt he wore.

"There's a team debrief happening in about five minutes where you're needed, and it's a bit of a walk so I'm wondering if you're gonna reach in time." To confirm your words, he glanced at his watch, raising his eyebrows when he realized you were spot on.

"You know my schedule so well now," he couldn't help but comment, chuckling as he did so.

"Only because you forget it," you retaliated.

"Maybe I do that on purpose," he stood up, once again stretching to the point where the hem of his shirt raised a bit, revealing a sliver of skin that your gaze immediately shifted to. While you might've gotten better, you still needed a bit more practice every now and then. Carlos chuckled when you didn't have a response right away, knowing you were distracted but he didn't feel the need to expose you just yet.

As he pulled his shirt down, your eyes snapped to his, finally coming up with a response "and almost get me fired for making you late?"

He shrugged, "maybe." You knew he would never do such a thing that would jeopardize your job, so you shrugged off his comment.

"Go now, Sainz" you urged, waving your hand to emphasize your point.

"I'm going, I'm going, relax, cariño." You could hear his laugh as he left the room, and you didn't focus on the papers in front of you until his footsteps had faded away.

It was just friendly banter, you reminded yourself even after hearing the nickname he gave you. Sometimes your conversations were borderline flirtatious, but it was still fine. Until it wasn't.

As the year progressed further, you were no longer just an employee with a career in motorsport; you were a member of the team that celebrated each high while consoling and sticking together during the lows.

While your job wasn't directly connected to the race, nor could you help in changing the outcome like the mechanics and engineers could, you helped uplift the mood in the room on multiple occasions.

Which is why when Carlos stood on the top step of the podium, claiming his first place trophy that would eventually become a part of a larger collection, you felt like you won.

The spray of champagne reached the crowd of his team waiting below the podium. A laugh bubbled up your throat as Carlos tried to aim the spill of the drink in the team principal's mouth standing on the floor a few feet away from you.

A proud smile grew on your face as you watched the drivers and a representative from your team that collected the constructors trophy gathered together on the top step to take a photo.

The celebrations continued in the team garage, since both drivers made it on the podium. The energy buzzing through each member was noticeable, knowing that this win would be celebrated until the next. After the team photo was taken, the champagne popped once again.

A few people were able to get away from becoming soaked, others were being targeted. Charles managed to slip away, but Carlos couldn't. He happily accepted the spray, soaking his race suit further after the podium.

His eyes however, darted across the crowd and landed on you. Standing just out of reach of the champagne shenanigans but still close enough to celebrate, Carlos decided to pull you even closer.

Grabbing the bottle from the nearest person, he covered the top and shook it. Releasing his thumb, he let the fizzy drink spray out, directing it at you this time. "Carlos!" You shrieked, but laughing nonetheless.

Once satisfied, he took a sip from the bottle, his gaze fixed on you as yours moved down to his neck, watching his Adam's apple bob while he swallowed. Passing the bottle to you, you moistened your lips before tipping it up and sipping the cool champagne.

His attention was diverted as Charles had found another bottle of champagne, deciding to drench his teammate even further after the celebrations began to die down. You smiled as Carlos tried to run away, dodging the alcohol, but it quickly dropped once he used you as a shield.

"Oh, no, no, no," you held your hand out at Charles who smiled mischievously, stopping in his tracks right in front of you.

"You are a part of the team," he commented, and you almost ignored his words as you felt Carlos' hands rest on your waist from behind, feeling his breath on your neck.

The heat of your thoughts was ruined when Charles decided to rain champagne down on you, cooling you off instantly. "Charles," you groaned, knowing that it would be an excruciatingly long process to wash all the champagne out of your hair, especially if it began to dry soon.

The team began to disperse, rightfully so as everyone wanted to change out of their champagne soaked clothes, you included. Trying to wring out as much liquid as you could, you muttered a curse under your breath. This was the first time you ever experienced a win like today.

Speaking of, the winner of the race was standing off to the side, shirtless. Carlos had removed his fireproof top but still had his race suit zipped down to his waist and placed a cap on his head backwards to keep his hair out of his face.

You parted your lips and watched his back muscles flex as he moved around, then hastily looked away as he turned. You kept wringing your shirt as he moved past you, and despite the fact that there was enough space for him to pass you without touching you, his fingertips brushed over your back, down to your waist. He lingered on your hip for too long, but he didn't say anything, only smiled when you inhaled deeply.

You had returned to your hotel room and immediately rushed towards the shower. The champagne from earlier had dried, creating an unpleasant sensation as a layer of tackiness remained behind. Washing away all the sweat and champagne, you sighed in relief, standing underneath the shower for a few extra minutes to release all the soreness in your muscles.

You still felt the buzzing excitement of the day running through your veins as you dried and dressed yourself, but you were also exhausted, ready to climb into bed and drift away into the safety of your dreams.

That plan was interrupted as you heard a knock on the door. Pulling your shirt over your body, you peeked through the peephole, smiling when you saw him standing on the other side.

"Oh hello, don't tell me you forgot your room number," you greeted Carlos as you opened the door.

Wetting his lips with his tongue, he was transfixed by the sight of your hair, still wet from your shower, dripping down to your shirt beginning to cling to your body.

"I think I did, tell me you don't remember it either," his voice dropped an octave, and his stare was no longer calculating, but rather enticingly seductive.

"And why would I do that?" You almost whispered, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from him.

He stepped forward, leaning one arm on the doorframe while his gaze glanced over you to briefly look inside the room. "I'm sure yours is big enough for two people."

The corner of your lip turned up at his words, knowing it was just a ploy to let him in. The realization that he desired you just as much as you had grown to want him dawned on you as you stared at him standing in front of you.

Trapping your lip between your teeth for a moment, instantly attracting Carlos' gaze towards them, you nodded.

"Let's check," you stepped back, pulling him inside by the collar of his shirt.

——

Taglist is open!! Lmk if you wanna be added or removed <3

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[lyinginmeadow]

Breakaway pt I. | hockey!Azriel × reader

Summary: You're not a fan of a kiss cam. And neither is your boyfriend.

Word count: 1,8k

Warnings: swearing, miserable knowledge of hockey (sorry yall), Rhys being a protective asshole over his sister

A/n: Anyone a hockey fan? No, just me? Okay. Another thing is, that I described university as I know it in my country haha. I hope no one will be confused

Also yes, I did take inspiration from tiktok. I just loved that scene <3

>> Pt 2

Leaves started to fall which meant your favorite season was starting. You loved anything and everything that came with autumn. The pumpkin spice, moody weather, sweaters, and books. With autumn knocking on your door, the new semester has begun. You didn't mind studying, you actually enjoyed it to a certain degree, but the stress is what always got to you during exams. You were just starting your second year of university, so you knew what to expect. To many that was all. Just endless studying and partying to get their minds off things. You? Not really. Ever since you could remember, fall meant the hockey season started. Were you a hockey player? No, not at all. Ice skating was your passion, just not hockey. That didn't matter, because your brother was the golden child. Rhysand played because your father used to. You would never say it out loud, mainly because it would inflate his ego even more, but Rhysand was a star player. He was so much better than your father and you knew that if he wanted to, he would make it far. 

 Rhys never acted towards you with any malice other than just a bit of sibling rivalry. He was actually quite protective of you, given the fact you were his little sister. But whatever you did was never good enough for your father. You might study medicine, but Rhys was finishing law. You might figure skate but you were no hockey player. And most of all, you were a woman. And your father despised you for it. You were expected to make it to every game, but no one ever wanted to attend your competitions.  You enjoyed watching the games, especially when Rhys met his best friends and teammates at university. The games became so much more interesting when Azriel entered the ice. Rhys might be the captain and the center, but Azriel was a force to be reckoned with, the fastest player in the rink. You became friends with both Cassian and Azriel quickly since you often visited their house to get away from your parents. Rhysand of course was glad but you knew you were off-limits to his friends. Not only was it obvious in how he glared at both of them whenever they made a comment he didn’t appreciate. But the first time you met, Cass basically undressed you with his eyes. From what you heard he reminded them often to not mess with his sister.

It did not stop you from developing feelings for him the moment you laid eyes on him. For a while, it did seem he viewed you only as his best friend's little sister. Which you had a hard time accepting. Your relationship changed when you sneaked into a party they had thrown in celebration of a victory last year. You were a first-year, and your first semester at university had been hectic, but living close to your brother and away from your parents was a long-awaited blessing. Having a taste of freedom made you bold. Azriel couldn't take his eyes off of you, you had been like a magnet. He hadn't been the only one as you attracted the attention of another freshman. Azriel might not have acted on his attraction towards you before but seeing you with another man changed that. One thing led to another and you were sneaking out together whenever you found time.

It had been a year and your brother still had no clue. And you intended to keep it that way. You loved your boyfriend, you didn't want to worry about his teeth off the ice as well. Cassian on the other hand suspected, thankfully as you introduced him to your friend, Nesta, he became preoccupied and dropped the matter. 

''So who do you think will win? And be honest, they're not here, you can't hurt their fragile egos.'' Nesta disturbed your train of thought. You laughed shaking your head. You loved hanging out with her because of how direct she was, always saying exactly what was on her mind. You met Nesta when your university did a charity ballet on the ice of Nutcracker. You got the role of Clara and she was your ballet counterpart. You did not expect to establish a friendship with her, but she was exactly who you needed in your life. You knew she would call you out on your bullshit anytime and you liked her for it. She also happened to be the first person you told about Azriel. She was not surprised, saying that you weren't being as secretive as you thought you had been.

''You know I am still biased since I really want our team to win. The Cavaliers are good and they play dirty. But Cass will probably try to kill Eris on the ice. Given the history and all.'' You gave her a pointed look. Shifting your gaze to the rink, you tried to find number 38.

''They’ve got no chance against VU.'' Said a guy next to you. You hated when someone butted their way into a conversation. But given the fact, that you would be spending about two hours in close proximity, you had decided for a polite smile. ''I guess so.''

''So how come you've got such good seats? Know someone on the team?'' He chimed in again.

''You could say that. My brother is the captain.'' You answered keeping your eyes on Azriel as he warmed up.

''Rhysand is your brother?''

''Unfortunately.'' You nodded, and his eyes grew in size. ''That's so lucky! I wish I was a hockey player or just knew them. You see, I got these seats because I'll be writing an article about the game.'' You smiled politely again shifting your gaze to the rink when the puck was just about to hit the ice.

As the game progressed, the crowd became electric. All the fans were shouting and your ears began ringing. Velaris Bats were in the lead, but only by one goal and everyone was nervous. To make the game even more enjoyable, there were games for the fans as well. Students competed against one another to win points for their university and win the competition of the tribunes.

The competitions were fun and good entertainment during breaks. But while the game continued the camera was turned on. You laughed at a random do a meme moment, but quickly turned your head back to the ice. You didn't want to miss a second of Azriel's game. Fully focused, you didn't realize that the camera switched to a kiss cam. A guy sitting next to you turned his head to face you and pointed to the TV earning your attention. ''I mean when in Rome, right?'' He laughed as he tried to close the distance. ''Yeah, no, thank you.'' You laughed nervously shifting in your seat.

''Oh come on, it's just a kiss.'' He pressured, and you gave a panicked look towards the ice. You heard Nesta taking a sharp inhale to give the guy a piece of her mind. You were interrupted by shouts of the fans and loud banging on the glass. 

''Back the fuck off.'' You couldn't hear Az properly, but the message was quite clear, making the guy shift his gaze between the two of you uncomfortably. Az got two minutes for stalling the game which made the crowd boo and your brother yell obscenities as he often did when one of his teammates was sent to a bench. Thankfully during the power play the Cavaliers didn't get a goal in, but it was close. It only enraged Rhysand more which was abundantly clear when he almost broke his stick as the second period came to an end.

Azriel was sending daggers to the guy sitting next to you who looked like he wanted nothing more than to leave. He relaxed when the players left for their locker rooms. You just hoped Rhys didn't look much into Azriel's possessive behavior.

''What the fuck was that?'' Roared Rhys as he entered the locker room.

''I don't know what you're talking about.'' Azriel continued to take off his gear.

''Do not play with me! You could have cost us the game.''

''I was thinking I did you a favor. He had no right to touch her like that.'' He finally faced Rhysand.

''It was a fucking kiss cam.''

''She didn't want to be kissed. And he didn't back off.''

''So what? You made it your mission to help her while you were supposed to pay attention to the puck?'' Spit Rhys. Everyone in the locker room was silent watching the two stubborn players go head to head.

''Yes! And I would do it again.'' Azriel retorted.

''I could have you off the team for this.'' He hissed.

''Rhys-.'' Cassian signed. ''Be my guest.'' Azriel interrupted starring Rhysand down. He wouldn't back down. He couldn't. He knew you could have handled yourself back there. Hell, Nesta was there, too and she wouldn't let some guy do anything disrespectful. He just acted on an impulse. When he looked up and saw your panicked gaze, something shifted inside him. Rhys kept watching Azriel, staring right into his soul when suddenly his eyes grew larger as if recognizing what he should have seen from the very beginning.

''You've got to be kidding me.'' When Azriel didn't answer, Rhys continued, ''Tell me you don’t have a thing for my little sister.’’

''Azriel, I swear to everything that is holly, I will fucking punch you if you don't give me an answer.''

''We are together. Have been for almost a year.'' Azriel never saw anyone have an aneurysm. But if he could guess, Rhysand was a textbook example of how it looked like.

''I take it back, I will punch you anyway.'' And he might have if Cassian wasn't there to catch Rhys. ''Easy there killer. The game is still on. And you might not like it but Az is an asset.''

''I don't want to see you anywhere near her, understand? I know how you are with girls!'' Rhysand snarled.

''You know I can't do that.''

''Then you're off the team.''

''Fine.''

As they returned to the ice, the tension between Velaris Bats was palpable. Cassian was looking between his teammates probably trying to find a quick solution to the problem at hand. Azriel wasn't paying you any attention keeping his gaze on the ice only. You frowned slightly. When you looked at Rhys you found him staring back at you anger oozing out of his every move. 

He knew.

[leah-lover]

Second chances.

Alexia putellas x coach!reader.

Summary: new job, old friends , and memories your tried to forget. Will you be able to dodge the past as you navigate your new job?

“ More news arrived from the RFEF who have promised that they were going through a systematic change after the Luis Rubiales scandal. They have announced this morning the arrival of a new head coach to lead the women’s team in the upcoming euro cup which will be held in switzerland. The 33 years old coach came from the united states where she led her team to victory in the nwsl. Her name may sound familiar to you because she was a part of Vilda's coaching staff until she decided to step away for unknown reasons. Although she has never coached a national team before, the new RFEF president is confident she will heal wounds left by her predecessor mostré tomé and restore the team to its winning ways.” says the reporter on the TV. you were sitting on your couch listening to her talking about your new job with player’s files in your lap. The international break was in 7 days and you needed to get familiar with everyone and have a clear plan of your strategy. 

Being back in Spain brought back so many memories. You haven't come back since everything went down and you quit your job. You swore you would never come back to work with the RFEF however seeing everything unfold in the news you knew that agreeing to come back was more of a necessity than a choice. You loved the girls very much and you knew that they deserved better than what they got and you were adamant on giving them the best. Moreover, the new president was a woman you knew and was friends with. You trusted her and agreed to give her a chance. Besides Barcelona was the best city in the world, you couldn't pass up the chance to come back home. 

As soon as you accepted your position, you contacted old colleagues, ones that you knew you could trust,  and combined them with some of the existing staff that you were 100 percent sure were a safe fit for the new environment you were hoping to achieve and formed your new staff and announced it to the media. The fans were shocked at the amount of changes you made and their comments were very supportive of your decision which gave you a boost of confidence. 

All you were thinking about was this team. You held and attended meetings all day long. You practically lived on your desk but it was all worth it because it all led to this phone call you were pursuing since the day you got to barcelona. You waited in front of your laptop anxiously waiting for your star player to join the zoom call. Shortly after you see her face pop on your screen. 

�� hola.” you say enthusiastically. “ hola.” she replies. She looked much older since the last time you saw her, which was 4 years ago. 

“ Thanks for agreeing to this call. It  truly means a lot.” you say playing with a pen in your hands. 

“ yeah it wasn't easy but i thought why not hear you out.” she replied. 

“ So I am gonna get right to it. I want you to be back in the national team. You are the best center back i know, i want you to be in the te am, and you deserve to have a place in this team.” 

“ I see you haven't changed, you are still as honest as you were but I would have to decline.” responded mapi. 

 “ I am turning things around maria. You know me, you know my story, you know everything. This time is different. I came back to make things different. You watched everything happen in front of your eyes. Do you truly think I could make someone feel the way I felt back then?” 

Mapi stayed quiet, she was perhaps thinking about that night you decided to leave everything behind. The night the idea of las 15 was created. 

“ okay.” you hear her say. “ I will come to this camp.” you are overjoyed “ you wont regret it leon.” 

 Your happiness was cut short because you remembered that you had to do this 2 more times with pina and leila. After 2 very long phone calls you got them to trust you and to agree to the return to the national team. You then drafted the call up list and sent it to your assistant. 

The days leading up to camp went by quickly as your plans of the first steps towards rebuilding were coming to fruition. 

You were sitting in your office when  you heard a knock on the door, it was your assistant coach informing you that the players began   to arrive. A wave of nerves watched over you but that was to be expected. You were a part of this team before and you hoped they would welcome you back with open arms. You were wearing casual clothes so that you won't be seen as authoritarian. You settled for a white t-shirt, black pants and shoes, and you wore your hair down. Your objective was to appear normal and friendly to the members of the team you weren't familiar with. You headed straight for the conference room and waited for the first people to arrive. Shortly after that Irene walked through the door. You were instantly transported back to 4 years ago which is the last time you and the captain have spoken. You closed your eyes briefly to try and get the bad memories away and open a new chapter with the captain. You shook hands and exchanged pleasantries with her and the rest of the barca group but quickly moved on to the other members that had joined. After they were all settled in their chairs you noticed the absence of the person you were most afraid to see, alexia putellas. Before you accepted the job you wrote down a pros and cons list. The first reason you put on the pros was the paycheck and the glory. However for the cons the first thing you wrote down was alexia putellas’s name. Seconds after you thought about her she appeared. She was just as beautiful and charming as you remembered. She immediately came to you but without sharing eye contact with you. She went in to kiss your cheek as a way to say hello and you did too. She still smelled like before and her smell still had a magnetic power over you. She then took a seat next to Irene and you pulled yourself together again and started your presentation. 

“ Hello everybody and welcome. You all heard of me, some of you even were a part of my team when I was working here which feels like a lifetime ago. But in that lifetime this team has risen from the underdog to the most favored and feared team in the world. I am here to continue that legacy and help the team strengthen its roster. But I am also here to create an environment, a culture, and a safe space for you all.  You all are the best in Spain and you deserve to be treated like it. This culture I am trying to create involves no tolerance for homophobia, transphobia, racism, or sexism. I urge you to report any case of abuse or mistreatment from my staff or your teammates. I tried my best to employ people I trust and are advised to report anything that made you uncomfortable.  So Without further or do let's talk strategy.” 

You go over everything you expect from the team and how the strategy is going to change. You then instruct your team to go rest so that training may begin tomorrow at 9 am. 

On their way out you called for the captain to have a word with them. Once the room is empty you quickly say ” so you heard everything i said, i just want to make sure that you two know that i mean Plus the captaincy is going to change. Obviously, you two are the captain and vice. You can come with me with any concern or question about anything.my door is always open.  I am appointing jenni as the 3rd captain.” 

“ That wouldn't go over well with the federation,” said irene. 

“ Well, I don't care. They knew who they hired. Plus I don't play by their rules.” you respond. The captains share a satisfactory look with you although you haven't looked at either of their eyes, then leave. 

Your transition to head coach seemed to be seamless. The players were responding to your advice and strategies. The media seemed to be happy with the changes you made and especially with the arrival of mapi leon. The vibe of the club overall was great, and you were getting comfortable in your new spot. However, it was all about to change at the pro match press conference. The conference itself went great. You and the vice captain answered all the questions given to you without any mishaps. But once the media left and you were left alone with alexia,  you felt yourself suffocating so you quickly got up to leave.  

“ You can't avoid me forever,” said Alexia calmly. 

“ Who said anything about avoiding you?  The conference is done, so I am leaving. If you want to talk to me about anything, my office door is always open.” you say with a cold tone not bothering to look at her. 

“ You don't talk to me like you never do. Besides you won't even look at me." Alexia sounded sad. All you wanted was to take away all her pain but you couldn't. 

“ I talk like this to everybody.” you hear her get up and see her in front of you. Not looking her in her eyes  would prove her point, and doing it would rip you to shreds. You suck it up and look at her hazel captivating eyes. “ Happy now?” you respond. “ We can't continue like this, we have to talk about that night.” 

“ alexia there is nothing to talk about. I forgot everything that happened ,I moved on. I am your coach right now. If you have a concern about anything football related, come to my office.” you were lying straight to her face. You didn't move on or forget what happened. You just hoped your tough girl act would hold with her. 

Game Day was always fun for you but this time around it had a little nervousness attached to it since it was your introduction as the new coach. You started your day witha call from the RFEF board wishing you good luck and re-stating their confidence in you. You revised your strategy, confirmed you starting 11, and headed to the bus so that you would head to the stadium. You decided on a blue suit and let your hair down. You looked both masculine and feminine   which summed up your personality perfectly. 

Once you arrived at the stadium you gave the girls a motivational speech, headed to your seat in the sidelines and waited for the game to begin. You weren't a loud manager. You just sat there, observed the play and took notes. You trusted the girl’s judgment and gave them some autonomy when it came to the style of play which rewarded you with a goal in the 8th minute by aitana bonmati. The 1-0 unset turned into 6-0 by the 76th minute which made you proud of your debut. However it all turned into chaos when alexia putellas fell on the field. You panicked as the paramedics ran to her. You watched  intensely as they examined her and waited for the signal that informed you that you needed a substitution which you got almost immediately. Your heart broke for the recently healed midfielder but you had other things in mind. You called for Teresa Abelleira and subbed her in. The game ended in a 7-0 win. You shook hands with everybody, did an interview but the thought of alexia didn't leave your mind.  As soon as you were done you semi sprinted to the locker room. Once you got there you found irene. 

“ Is it the acl again?” you ask worryingly. 

“ No, it's just a muscle strain and her knee is acting up again.”  you breathe for the first time in an hour. 

“ This is happening because of you.” she says harshly.

“ Excuse me.” you couldnt believe what you heard. 

“ You shouldn't have come back here. You taking this job was a mistake. You have opened up an old wound and this is just the beginning.”

“ I am going to have to stop you right here. First,  I am your boss not your buddy from back in the day so you are going to have to take a step back and show some respect. Second, you have the nerve to talk to me about making mistakes  knowing that you ruined my life not too long ago.

“ She didn't sleep last night. That's why she got injured today. I am worried about my friend.” 

“ You should have thought about your friend 4 years ago.” you say as you enter the medic’s room leaving her behind. 

You found alexia with tape on her knee and achilles. Her eyes were closed so she didn't see you come in and sit next to her. 

“ I am willing to talk about that night this time only. Say everything you need but once I leave this room you are never going to bring it up again.” 

The only way to make it out is through. You thought.

[letsgetbigger]

OnlyFat

Nigel looked at himself in the mirror, as he did every morning, admiring his toned and sculpted body, the result of years of dieting and hard work at the gym. At 28 years old, he felt at the peak of his physical form. Firm muscles, broad shoulders, and a defined abdomen, along with his handsome face and sizable cock, had earned him a considerable number of followers on OnlyFans. While he wasn’t a millionaire, earning an average of about two thousand dollars a month allowed him certain luxuries and a pretty comfortable lifestyle. He enjoyed his routine. He filmed private videos, always eager to please, and responded to the strangest and most specific requests from his fans. No matter what they asked of him, he always found a way to enjoy it; perhaps due to his naturally submissive nature, something he had discovered long ago and now used to his advantage.

That Tuesday, as he checked the messages in his account, he came across a proposal that made him pause. It was from someone named Dom43, who had written to him several times before, though never with such a direct request. The message read:

“I’ll give you a thousand dollars if you gain ten pounds of fat in a month and send me a video of the results. No tricks. I want to see how you change. What do you say?”

Nigel raised an eyebrow and reread the offer over and over. It wasn’t the typical request he was used to. At first, it seemed strange, almost absurd. But the money—a thousand dollars!—was a considerable temptation. Plus, a part of him, the part that had always enjoyed obeying and submitting to others’ desires, felt a twinge of excitement at the idea. After a few minutes of thought, he shrugged and let himself go with his gut.

“I accept,” he wrote back.

He knew doing this would change something, though he wasn’t sure what. What he didn’t expect was just how much this would lead him down an unexpected path.

For Nigel, gaining ten pounds in a month didn’t seem like much of a challenge. And he knew that once he hit the goal and pocketed that thousand dollars, he could go back to his strict diet and regain his physique in a matter of weeks. It was just a simple detour, a small, temporary indulgence. Nothing serious. With that assurance, he decided to change his eating habits.

That same afternoon, he went to the grocery store, filling his cart with everything he normally avoided: frozen pizzas, pastries, salty snacks, and especially lots of tubs of ice cream, which he promised himself to devour every night. Salads were out of the picture for a few weeks. When he got home, the idea of indulging in unrestrained pleasure, of breaking the rules he had imposed on himself for years, turned him on. Even more so when he remembered he was doing it for Dom43, to fulfill his request.

That night, he sat on the couch in front of the TV, a pizza on one side and a tub of ice cream on the other, a smile on his face. At first, he ate because he was hungry, but soon that hunger turned into something darker, more intimate. He kept eating, even though he was no longer hungry. The mere thought of knowing he was stuffing himself, filling up to please someone, gave him a thrill he had never experienced before. When he finished, he lay back on the couch, gently stroking his slightly bloated stomach, feeling strangely satisfied.

***

Two weeks had passed, and Nigel had fully embraced his new routine of excess. He was eating as if it were a competition. The food filled him, but what really satisfied him was the idea of transforming his body at someone else’s request. He knew he was changing, that his body was reacting. And it was confirmed when he weighed himself: eight pounds gained. He was close to reaching his goal.

The next day, while working out, his personal trainer, Mark, noticed something different. Nigel was in the middle of doing crunches when Mark let out a mocking laugh.

“You’ve been slacking a bit, man,” he said, giving Nigel’s stomach a light tap. “You’ve put on some weight. And not just around the belly…” Mark added, motioning toward his backside.

Nigel laughed, trying to hide the heat rushing to his face. “Yeah, well, I’ve been indulging a little—nothing serious.”

Mark shook his head, but the comment stuck with Nigel. That teasing remark hit deep. It didn’t bother him, though. On the contrary, he liked it. For the rest of the workout, he couldn’t stop thinking about how his body was changing, about how much Dom43 would enjoy watching him soften up.

When he got home, he quickly stripped off his clothes and looked in the mirror. He touched his stomach, which was no longer as flat as it once was, and caressed the soft roundness beginning to form on his rear. Mark’s words echoed in his mind, and at that moment, Nigel couldn’t resist any longer. He collapsed onto his bed and jerked off, reaching the most intense climax of his life. What had started as a simple game to make some money had now completely consumed him.

The month had come to an end, and Nigel was ready. He carefully set up the camera, making sure the lighting was perfect, bright enough to highlight every change in his body, to show Dom43 the results of his effort. He stood in front of the mirror, took a deep breath, and began undressing slowly, recording the whole process. First, he removed his shirt, revealing his torso. His chest, once firm and defined, now had a slight sag to it. His belly, swollen and covered by a soft layer of fat, folded into rolls when he bent slightly. Then he pulled down his pants, leaving him in his tight white briefs, which now clung to him like never before. His thighs were noticeably thicker. But the real surprise came when he turned around. His ass, bigger and rounder, seemed to want to burst out of the tight fabric. The briefs could barely contain it. He gently touched his ass, feeling its fullness. Without missing a beat, he moved to the scale he had placed in front of the camera. He stepped on it carefully, watching the numbers climb rapidly. And there it was, the number that left him stunned: 191 pounds. He had gained fifteen pounds instead of the ten Dom43 had asked for. Five extra pounds, the result of his complete submission to food. Seeing the number, Nigel instantly got hard, unable to help himself.

“A hundred and ninety-one...” he muttered to himself.

Without thinking any further, he let the excitement take over. He jerked off in front of the camera, his breath ragged, and his moans filling the room. He did it for Dom43, but also for himself, for everything he had discovered about himself in the process.

Once finished, he sent the private video with a mix of anxiety and satisfaction, eagerly awaiting Dom43’s response. It didn’t take long to arrive: a payment confirmation accompanied by a comment that made Nigel shiver. “You’re a pathetic pig. You gained all this weight just because I told you to. I love it.” Nigel read aloud quietly. “I’ll give you ten thousand dollars more if you gain another twenty pounds in two months. Do you dare to become my fantasy?”

Nigel sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his still-naked, slightly sweaty body after the recording. His phone’s screen glowed with Dom43’s message: ten thousand dollars to gain another twenty pounds. The offer was tempting, too tempting. With that kind of money, he wouldn’t have to make more videos for months. He could take a break from his online life and focus on something else. Just the thought of that financial freedom made him feel relieved. But there was something more—a deep desire to please Dom43, to follow his orders, to submit to whatever he asked. It consumed him inside. He had discovered a new form of pleasure. Every pound he gained, every humiliating comment, ignited something within him that he had never felt before. Pleasing Dom43 had become almost an addiction. Yet, fear lingered in the background. He had already gained fifteen pounds, and although he initially thought he could lose it easily, he was starting to doubt whether the same would be true for thirty-five pounds. What if he couldn’t? What if continuing to gain weight destroyed the success of his OnlyFans account?

***

Nigel never imagined he would lose so much control. What started as a challenge, almost a game, had become a new reality. In just a month and a half of nonstop eating, he had gained the twenty-pounds Dom43 requested, pushing his body to limits he had never thought possible. Now weighing 211 pounds, the man he saw in the mirror was almost unrecognizable. His belly hung over the waistband, his thighs rubbed together with every step, and his once firm chest now bounced lightly with each movement. But the most shocking transformation of all was his ass, now enormous, two soft masses that jiggled with every step. And for some reason, that excited him more than it scared him.

When he arrived at the gym one afternoon, Mark greeted him with his usual mocking grin.

"Well, look who's here: my star client," Mark said sarcastically, his eyes scanning Nigel’s new body.

Throughout the workout, Mark made constant comments about his weight. Every time Nigel did a squat or lifted weights, he could feel Mark’s eyes on him, watching how his belly wobbled or how his ass strained against his shorts, which barely contained it anymore. But the most intense moment came after the workout when Nigel stepped out of the showers. As he was drying off, he noticed Mark watching him from across the locker room.

"Jesus, man..." Mark said, his eyes trailing over Nigel’s naked body. "You're huge. Like, seriously."

Before Nigel could respond, Mark stepped closer and gave him a smack on the ass. The sound echoed in the room, and Nigel’s butt cheeks rippled under Mark’s firm hand like jello. Nigel felt his face heat up, a mix of shame and arousal spreading over his skin.

"Damn," Mark laughed, "that moves like jello. What have you been eating, ice cream by the gallon? You’re getting obese, dude."

Nigel couldn’t answer, his throat dry, his mind stuck on the echo of Mark’s words. Obese. It was the first time anyone had called him that, and instead of being offended, the word hit him like a lightning bolt of pure desire. He tried to laugh, but the sound came out weak, almost choked.

He stood in front of the camera, taking deep breaths as he prepared for his second private session with Dom43. Like before, he undressed slowly, savoring each moment. He pulled off his shirt, revealing a torso that no longer had any trace of the firm muscles he once prided himself on. His chest was soft and round, visibly moving with each breath. His nipples had widened and felt unusually sensitive as he brushed his fingers over them. Then he slid off his pants, left in the same white briefs from the previous video. This time, they felt like a cruel joke. The edges dug into his hips and thighs, squeezing him in a way that was both uncomfortable and intensely arousing. His swollen belly hung slightly over the waistband, which seemed ready to give up the fight. Nigel turned to face the camera, letting it capture the most obvious change of all: his ass. It completely filled the briefs, making them look absurdly small. The fabric was stretched to its limit, with the tops of his cheeks spilling over, exposing the crack as if the briefs couldn’t possibly contain so much mass. He gave a slight shake, and his ass jiggled, continuing to bounce for a few seconds before settling. Seeing himself like that—so exposed, so impossibly large—sent a wave of arousal through him that nearly made him lose control right then and there. Nigel couldn’t help but smile. He knew Dom43 would love seeing what he had accomplished. The high point of the video came when he stepped onto the scale, carefully positioned in front of the camera. He showed the result: 211 pounds. Thirty-five pounds more than he weighed when this all began. He couldn’t help himself; the thrill of having transformed for someone else, of having fully surrendered to it, overwhelmed him. Once again, he masturbated in front of the camera, but this time, the orgasm was more intense, more liberating. His breath grew ragged, and every curve of his body shook with the force of his release.

When it was over, he sent the video to Dom43. The payment came through quickly, but what made Nigel’s heart race wasn’t the large sum of money. It was the words that followed.

“You’ve become my obedient pig. You’re good for nothing but getting fatter. You should be ashamed of how far you’ve fallen, but the worst part is, I know you love it.”

Nigel swallowed hard, feeling a knot tighten in his stomach. It was true. He loved every humiliating word, every cruel comment that made him feel smaller, more submissive, despite his growing size. But it was the last line of the message that left him frozen.

“I’ll give you twenty thousand dollars if you gain another thirty pounds.”

***

Nigel was nervous. It had been over two months since he last filmed a video for his regular OnlyFans subscribers, and now, with his body drastically transformed, he had no idea how they would react. He wanted to see if the weight gain had changed anything, if his fans were still interested in him despite the fact that he no longer had the muscular, chiseled physique that had attracted them in the first place. Deep down, he hoped it wouldn’t matter too much, that they would still desire him, and that he wouldn’t have to rely on Dom43 to stay financially stable. He set up the camera like always, but this time, he took a longer look at himself in the mirror. It was incredible how much his body had changed in just two months. His body felt heavy. Every movement made him more aware of his size.

"It's just a video," he whispered to himself, trying to calm his nerves. "I just want to see how they react."

He stood in front of the camera, shirtless, revealing his round, soft torso, wearing only a pair of black briefs that used to be loose on him. He did the usual gestures he used in his videos, showing his body from different angles, touching his chest and stomach, running his hands over the areas now covered in fat.

He uploaded the video.

The first responses came in quickly. As soon as he read the comments, his fears were confirmed. There was no acceptance, no admiration. Just criticism, mockery, and, above all, shock.

“What happened to you? You used to look incredible, but now you look like a different person,” wrote one of his longtime followers.

“You’re huge! And not in a good way. What kind of joke is this?” added another.

The comments kept coming, each one harsher than the last. They called him fat and disgusting. Some even felt betrayed by the change, as if Nigel had deliberately hidden what he’d been doing over the past few months. Others openly laughed at him, making fun of how his body had lost all definition. Nigel read every word, feeling a mix of humiliation and indescribable excitement. He had expected a negative reaction, but the brutal honesty of their attacks surpassed all his expectations. Far from feeling defeated, something dark and deep inside him awakened. Each insult, each criticism, made him feel more alive, more aware of his body and what he had achieved. The taunts about his physique didn’t discourage him; they aroused him in a way he couldn’t ignore. It was as if those words freed him. He didn’t want to go back. He wanted to push forward. He turned off his computer screen and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Dom43 had offered him twenty thousand dollars to gain another thirty pounds. Thirty pounds that would transform him even more, taking him to a new level of submission. He had thought about rejecting the offer, about going back to his former physique. But after reading his fans’ comments, after feeling the impact of their words on his body, there was no longer any doubt. With a smile on his face, Nigel decided he was going to accept the challenge. He was ready to fully give in, to see just how far he could go.

***

Nigel stopped going to the gym altogether. Every morning, he woke up to the same routine: eat, jerk off, and eat more. His appetite seemed endless, and his libido was out of control, higher than ever. The discipline he once had had crumbled, replaced by an obsession with giving in to food and the thrill of his own transformation. His clothes no longer fit. The jeans, tight shirts, and briefs that had once defined his muscular figure now wouldn't even make it past his thighs or tore when he tried putting them on. Soon, he realized the only piece of clothing that still fit him was an old tracksuit, and even that didn’t fit well—it was so tight that the fabric stretched ridiculously, and his belly stuck out. He only wore it when he went out to buy more food, but at home, he spent his days completely naked.

In three months, Nigel had gained another thirty-five pounds, surpassing even Dom43’s challenge. His body was unrecognizable, and the scale didn’t lie. He weighed 246 pounds, a number he’d never imagined reaching. His thighs were so thick they had changed the way he walked. His belly was soft, round, and hung over. His arms, once firm, were now wrapped in fat. And his chest, completely soft, jiggled with even the slightest movement. He knew it was time to film the video for Dom43. He prepared in the simplest and most provocative way possible: completely naked, with a box of donuts by his side and the scale ready to show the result. The camera started rolling, and Nigel let himself get caught up in the moment. He grabbed one of the donuts and bit into it slowly, letting the sugar slide down his lips as he chewed exaggeratedly. He knew Dom43 would love to see him like this, enjoying the food that had turned him into what he was now.

“I’ve surpassed your challenge,” Nigel said, his voice thick with pleasure as he bit into another donut. “Another thirty-five pounds. I hope you’re happy.”

He stood up with difficulty, his ass visibly bouncing as he walked toward the scale. He stepped onto it with some effort, and it stopped at 246 pounds. Nigel showed the number to the camera with a satisfied grin on his face.

“246 pounds,” he said with pride in his voice. “But that’s not all.”

He grabbed a measuring tape and started measuring his body. First, he wrapped it around his waist.

“Fifty inches,” he announced, staring at his belly.

Then he measured his ass, which had turned into a massive ball of fat, and the number was just as shocking.

“Fifty-three inches. I can’t even fit in my office chair.”

Nigel paused for a moment, looking at the camera with a euphoric expression.

“All of this... is for you, Dom43. I hope you’re enjoying this as much as I am.”

He ended the video with one last bite, chewing slowly as he jiggled his whole body while masturbating. When he finished, he turned off the camera and collapsed onto the couch, panting from exhaustion. He sent the video to Dom43 and waited, knowing the response wouldn’t take long. When it came, it was exactly what he expected.

“You’ve exceeded my expectations, pig. I never imagined you’d reach this point, that you’d become such a mountain of fat for me. Look at yourself, you’re pathetic, completely out of control. And you know what? I love it. You’ve done everything I asked and more. You’re the perfect submissive fat boy. You’re good for nothing but eating, getting fatter, and letting others laugh at you. But I must also say, I’m proud of you. You’ve proven you’re completely mine, willing to transform yourself this way just to please me. You’re incredible, in the worst way possible, of course, but that’s exactly where your greatness lies.”

Nigel stared at the screen, absorbed in the words. He had done everything Dom43 had wanted. And yet, he felt he could go further. The idea of gaining even more weight, of leaving behind any trace of his former self, called to him with unstoppable force. Without thinking too much, he typed the question that had been on his mind for days, a question that made him tremble with anticipation:

“How much will you pay me if I reach 300 pounds?”

The silence that followed for a few seconds was deafening, but Dom43’s response came quickly.

“I’m not paying you anything. This time, you won’t do it for the money. I want you to do it for me, because you can’t stop yourself now. I want you to gain until you reach 300 pounds just to please me, because now you know that’s the only thing that turns you on. You’ll do it because you belong to me.”

Nigel took a deep breath, feeling each word of that message wrap around him, filling him with a mix of submission and absolute pleasure. He knew Dom43 was right. It was no longer about the money. It was about something much bigger. What had started as a simple desire to fulfill a fantasy had become his reality. With trembling fingers, he typed the only thing he knew he could say at that moment, the only thing his mind and cock screamed for with overwhelming clarity:

“I’ll do it.”

[landossnorriss]

a soulmate equation || ln x she.

Pairing: lando x she. Summary: soulmates are a rare thing these days. it was better that way, everyone said, given that you shared a link to your soulmate that manifested in scary ways, feeling their adrenaline, feeling when they were hurt. even if you never met your soulmate you might pay the price of being connected to them. given lando never had any feelings himself he never thought he had a soul mate till the little cut appeared in his palm. Word Count: 1.9k ( one shot. ) Warning: small mentions of injuries and intentional cutting of the palm but with a purpose! mainly just pure fluff and happiness.

the adrenaline rushes started as far back as she could remember. her parents had thought that she was sick at first, the way her heart would race so much she sometimes felt like she was doing to pass out. they had taken her to several different doctors before one had been brave enough to bring up the soulmate connection to them. her parents were not soulmates themselves, they only knew of one other pair and so they were quick to dismiss it.

other small injuries cropped up every now and then, ones that could never be explained given she was often in class or tucked into bed when they occurred. again, the doctors gave her a clean bill of health and just as the injuries came, they went again, leaving her and her parents puzzled.

as she grew up, the feeling of that high that came when her adrenaline spiked were just a part of her normal day. where her parents were sceptical, she had long since accepted there was a connection out there too someone, but given the way he left her feeling when she had no idea who he was? she had no interest in seeking him out. he was an adrenaline junkie at best, maybe even a low life and she simply prayed he didn't seriously hurt the both of them one day.

the big hit of 2021 had been her biggest worry for a while, she had been unable to climb from her bed she had been so sore following that one and she had spent the day googling accidents despite herself, wondering if that might highlight who the hell had thrown himself into the road with how she felt.

a set of bruised ribs worried her friends so much she was forced to tell them the truth, an unwise choice on her part given the witch hunt her best friend started at the news. soulmates didn't happen all that often anymore, there were only two others everyone knew of in their whole year and that made her special. that's what they all said anyway. in reality she just wanted to be left alone, she didn't want to know about the man, she worried about him enough as it was.

november 2023. that was when her best friend decided that she'd found the answer. they'd taken her to hospital this one was so bad, there was no cause of the injuries she suffered, she had been at the movies with her friends when she had suddenly cried out in pain pulling all the attention onto her self. stupid really, she should have known to move herself from the crowd, she'd felt her adrenaline spike moments before.

but it was the doctors comment that had set her bestfriend off. "if i didn't know better, i'd say you'd driven into a wall at 200 miles an hour." given her best friend was a fan of all things that went fast, it had narrowed her into a focus area she couldn't shake. she had tried to deny it, she didn't want it to be true but there had been a flicker of something in her chest as her friend had linked the timing of her favourite f1 driver to when she had felt the impact roll through her.

still, she did her best to play it down, to brush everything off as a coincidence because she wasn't even sure she wanted the pressure of having a soulmate, let alone that soulmate being a famous fucking f1 driver. she wasn't cut out for that.

then the cut across her nose came and any hope she might have had of convincing her friend that she wasn't the soulmate of lando had gone out of the window. the little scar across his nose was cute, hers was cuter across her small button nose and the fact couldn't be denied anymore. what she didn't know how to do, was approach him about it. it wasn't like she could just walk up to him, she hadn't ever really been hurt or put herself in situations her heart rate would have spiked enough for him to know about her, he could hate the thought.

it wasn't a risk she was willing to take without certain proof and her friends crazy plan was just sure enough that she agreed to it. they waited until summer break, she wasn't about to risk his hands when he had a race, but on the first week of summer break, sat across from her best friend she squealed as she held out her palm to the other. was inflicting herself with a small cut insane? probably. but there had been a time the very idea of soulmates had been beyond belief to her and now here she was. the cut they applied was small but deep, enough that it would likely leave a scar and she would be forced to dress it. silently she sent a small, sorry lando, out into the universe and she hoped he wasn't in the middle of something too important as she looked down at her hand that was now bleeding.

a few days later, as she scrolled through her Instagram, totally not looking for any answers, she found them loud and clear. lando had updated a story and his left palm was wrapped in an identical fashion to her own. holy shit, her soulmate was lando norris.

lando himself had been in the middle of dinner with the quadrant team when the blood had started pouring from his hand. it had taken him several moments to convince his friends that he wasn't so clumsy he had managed to randomly cut his hands whilst he was enjoying a glass of wine. soon enough max had been wrapping his hand when someone had joked about a soulmate. lando's eyes narrowed at the thought. not once in twenty four years had he ever thought it was possible. he'd not felt a thing, not once.

that wasn't uncommon, most people never did but those with soulmates tended to figure it out early on so it had never bothered him much but as he watched the final wrap be applied to his palm, for the first time he couldn't help but wonder.

he put the thought of out his mind, not daring to think he could be so lucky, until the moment weeks later when he saw her in line for the fan meet and greet. she was beautiful, that was his first thought. what would he do if a girl like her, turned out to be his soulmate. he'd shook the thought away as she stepped closer, laughing to himself as he met her nervous gaze.

on her part, the thought of doing this at a fan meet and greet was her very idea of hell, but she hadn't seen another way. even if her bank account was currently crying thanks to how much she had paid for this. in her hand, was a carefully constructed time line and matching trips to the hospital to match. photos of her random injuries with post it notes to confirm that none of them had been the cause. on the underside of her last thumb just a small band aid was all that was left covering her hand as she nervously chewed at her lip. "hello." she could do this, she could hand him the file in her hand.

sensing her nerves lando reached out a hand. "hey, what do you have for me?" his voice was warm, smile genuine as he looked back at her. she wasn't sure what she had been expecting when she met him, she had spent an embarrassing amount of time online looking into the man stood before her. some adored him, some thought he was a brat and childish, others had been underwhelmed. right now he just seemed, normal and well, kind.

clearing her throat she finally handed him the file. "i um, i figured this might be the only way that you believe me, but i um - " she paused looking at his hand where his injury matched hers. "i gave you that." bracing herself for impact she waited as landos green eyes flicked through the pages, muttering to himself as he did so.

"ribs...belgium, vegas...." the time line matched each and everyone of her records, right down to the photo, well selfie of her and another woman with a knife and a fresh cut in her palm. the cut he had. lifting his head he let his eyes meet hers, a tender gaze dropping for just a moment to the matching wound she wore, back up to her nose where sure enough he was met with a mirror image of his scar. "its you."

meekly smiling back at him she found herself nodding and for some odd reason, tears appeared at the edge of her eyes. years of doubting and he was right here, he didn't even look like he wanted to run away. "surprise?" her laugh was dorky and more like a snort as a tear escaped. "god you believe me, sorry i thought that you were going to think i was insane. no one teaches you how to do this."

in true lando fashion, the first feeling that overwhelmed him was guilt, he'd been accidentally hurting her all these years. "i never...you never...you're okay right?" he mused as he flicked his eyes over the paperwork and then her again.

"i'm ok, you sort of delivered enough adrenaline for the both of us." she joked softly. "at least i know why you feel that rush every weekend." it was insane, but having watched as many races as she now had, pairing it to that feeling in her chest each time she had felt it. she was the only person in the world that knew exactly what he felt when he raced. it was uniquely beautiful and equally mind blowing.

hearing a cough behind them lando turned for a moment. "jon can you come here for a second." the driver had fans to get to and promises to keep but he didn't want her to vanish. "this is um...my soulmate. will you take her back for me?" he quizzed his manager quietly who watched her warily, not that she could blame him. "she has proof of everything." lando assured the male who nodded, turning to her with a smile. "come on then."

stepping out of the queue she moved with jon, not daring to steal another look back at lando until she heard him call for her to wait. "you ok lando?" jon asked, unsure of how he'd ended up with a soulmate equation to deal with when he'd picked his driver.

"yea i just...you're gonna stay right? i have no many questions and things i want to check and god promises to make like i'll be more careful, more gentle with you...with us." it had been one thing to risk his own life every single time he climbed into that car, but now that he knew there was her too? god it was going to make everything so much harder.

"i'll be here lando...don't worry, i think, well i sort of think we have forever to figure it out." she offered in a warm smile before she turned to vanish with jon again.

watching her leave, lando found himself smiling like a dork, even as she vanished from sight. forever. well shit he could get used to that.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 1- Jello at Your Front Door

Summary: 15 years ago, a football and a boy four doors down makes your move to Florida a little more bearable. Now, you're not quite sure how to feel when you find out he's shown up back at home unannounced

Word Count: 5.5K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (no use of y/n, Frankie has a nickname for reader)

Warnings: Angst, yearning, mentions of death, sick parent, meeting Frankie for the first time, cute, awkward baby Frankie, a football throw Santi will never forgive you for

A/N: ... Hey.... How y'all doin'.... Remember when I said I was gonna start a different Frankie series months ago? I hope you humbly accept this as my official formal apology for not being able to get my shit together, as I present this offering to you instead 🙂 I started writing this 24 hours ago and I legitimately couldn't stop, so here we are??? I know this is a different style that what I normally write, but here's to trying new things (and hopefully finishing them). I hope you guys enjoy 🥺💛

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

Next Chapter

You, Present

“Frankie’s home.” 

You weren’t really sure how to comprehend how the combination of those two words would be one of the worst sucker punches you’d taken to your gut in the better part of the last decade. 

As the sentence replayed over and over in your head, you could think of any other combination of two words that would have scared you less. 

“Hurricane’s coming.” 

“Bomb’s dropping.” 

“World‘s ending.” 

In a universe where things make sense, the response these would elicit from the average person would be reasonable, rational even. When you’ve been given a warning about the way two words have the potential to alter your reality, you can’t help but panic. 

But today, you’ve woken up in a universe where things don’t make sense. 

And what’s worse is, you didn’t even get a warning. 

The statement shouldn’t have shaken you as much as it did. When you’d seen his truck parked in the driveway four houses down, you knew it had to be him. Anyone else in the world would be caught dead driving the barley mobile piece of metal he’d been traveling in for the better part of 20 years. But Frankie Morales was not anyone else. He’d drive that damn car until the wheels fell out underneath him. 

It wouldn’t be the first time you’d gotten in a stubborn stare down with his 1989 maroon Chevrolet Silverado. You had a sneaking suspicion that today wouldn’t be your last. 

“Why is Fr- Why is he back?” 

You hadn’t intended for your tone to be so bitter, but the taste of Frankie’s name on the tip of your tongue left a taste in your mouth so sour, you wanted to recoil into yourself. 

“Why do you think?” It was clear your mother had no interest in playing into your game of cruel intentions, barely paying you any mind as she glanced out the window, unphased by the looming presence in the Morales’s driveway, “You should go say hello.” 

“No thanks, I’m not a fan of purposely ruining the rest of my day.” You don’t mean for your eyes to roll as far back into your head as they do, but you can’t help it. At this point it seems like an innate, programmed response. Simply the thought of Frankie Morales was enough to dampen your mood; an intentional confrontation was the last thing you needed. 

“You’re going to have to see him at some point, you know. Can’t hide from him the whole time he’s here.” 

Your mom hadn’t even given you the chance to rebuttal, disappearing from your bedroom to leave you to stew in your own resentment, because she knew as well as you that it was pointless to fight back. 

At some point, you’d have to face Frankie. Today, you’d stick to hiding. 

You, Summer of 1999, Age 11

26 total hours trapped in a U-Haul with your family and every item you’d ever owned was not the way you had planned to spend your last week of summer before starting middle school. You’d hoped that the nearly 3 day journey from Michigan to Florida would be long enough to help you cope with your distress. Unfortunately, you weren’t shocked that cramped quarters and unclear driving directions in the midst of uprooting your life wasn't doing much to lighten your mood. 

Your parents had promised you the move would be worth it. That starting a new life halfway across the country would be good for your family. You weren’t quite sure what positives Florida posed to you, but even at the ripe age of 11, it didn’t take a genius to realize that “starting over somewhere new” was code for “trying to keep your dad alive.” 

The doctors back home were thrilled to tell you about the new, potentially life saving treatment for his rapidly progressing colon cancer. You were thrilled too, until that new, life saving treatment meant moving 1,300 miles from home. 

Not once did you protest- keeping your dad a living, breathing part of your life was better than having to say goodbye to your best friends, but it still didn’t mean every mile you drove further and further south down I-75 was another grain of salt in your freshly open wound. 

Your parents had tried to incentivise you with all the joys that Florida would have to bring- warm, sunny weather, beaches, being a 3 hour drive away from Disney world, a bigger house, the list went on and on. And while you knew one day you’d find joy in the rewards you’d reap from your sacrifice, you had a feeling that day wouldn’t be coming any time soon. 

It took too many movers to count to finally get your new house to resemble what was supposed to be a home. There was something so unsettling about seeing your furniture reassembled into unfamiliar corners of a place you’d never been. Even the things that were supposed to feel familiar and comforting now felt distant and foreign, scrambled in the walls of your new residence like a child who had shaken up a box of their favorite toys and dumped them out on the ground, leaving behind a mess for someone else to clean up. 

The only solace you could seem to find in the wave of chaos that had washed over your life was the view outside your bedroom window. A quiet escape, perfectly positioned to watch the warm rays of sunset fade behind the rooftops, the night slowly shifting into shades of black and blue as your eyelids became heavy.

Each night as you drifted to sleep, you dreamt about the ways you could be saved from the lonely island you were trapped on. A sole survivor begging to be found. You tossed and turned in the sea of your twisted bedsheets, crying out that there would be someone, anyone who would risk their life to rescue yours. 

On the first two nights, the only response to your pleas was a deafening silence, an insult to injury that you were destined to spend the rest of your life on a godforsaken landmass no one would ever find. On the third night, your cries carried on the winds of the warm summer air, sneaking through the cracks of an open window four doors down. 

“You should go out there and play with those boys down the road! They look like they’re probably about your age!” 

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t noticed the two gangly figures racing up and down the street for the better part of the last hour, hoping they wouldn’t catch your passing glances through your living room window as you pretended to watch whatever episode of “Rocket Power” aired next on Nickelodeon. Perhaps the pair boys hadn’t noticed you watching them, but your dad had surely noticed the way you could have cared less about whatever was on the TV in front of you. 

“They’re playing football, I don’t really think they’d probably want me to play.” You huff under  your breath. 

“You’re good at football. Probably better than they are.” Your dad laughs like it’s meant to be funny, but you know he’s serious. He’ll never admit to you out loud he wished his only child would have been a boy, but you’ve never minded playing the role of the son he never had. 

And he’s not wrong. You definitely are a better throw than either of them. 

“They’re gonna think it’s weird that a girl’s asking to go play football with them.” The sigh that follows this is even more annoyed than the last, now too self aware at 11 years old to revert back to the days of approaching kids you’ve never met on the playground and asking to join in without needing to worry about the social repercussions of your actions. 

“Well, you can either pout and pretend to watch TV, or you could go try to make some friends. That’s up to you, Bud.” He smirks at the scrunch in your brow and flair in your nostrils, the same face he knows he makes when he’s been hit by the cold, hard truth he doesn’t like. 

You know he’s right. 

“Fine,” You grumble, reluctantly pushing yourself off the edge of the couch, “But if they’re dumb, I’m coming back home.” 

“Atta girl. Go easy on ‘em, Killer.” 

As you step outside, it feels like you’ve become some sort of jungle explorer, trying to approach a herd of wild animals in their element without startling them to the point of attack. You’d even brought a peace offering to ease the introductions, hoping that your own football would be an appreciated contribution to their game. 

As you make your way down the street, you’re not sure if you’re particularly good at sneaking up on the boys, they haven’t noticed your presence, or worse, they’re actively trying to ignore you in hopes that you’ll go away. 

“H-Hi.” You stammer, half attempting to wave at the back of their heads, nowhere near close to catching their attention. 

“Hello?” This time it’s a little louder, slowly taking a few steps closer, “Hi?” 

God, maybe it’s a fourth option you hadn’t considered and they’re both deaf. 

“Hey!” 

This one finally catches their attention, causing both boys to turn around cautiously, not sure whether they’re more shocked that someone’s interrupted whatever play they’re about to run, or that the person who’s interrupted them is you. 

All of three of you stand in silence for a moment, mind racing in curiosity as you take in the image of clumsy limbs and messy mats of hair stuck to sweaty foreheads. The one boy is shorter, thick, jet black curls sprouting from the top of his head and arms crossed over his chest with a scowl on his face that’s not quite mean, but most definitely not welcoming. 

The other, taller and lankier, a mop of dark brown hairs twisting at the nape of his neck, eyes soft as he glances back and forth between you and his friend. His demeanor is much different, almost nervous compared to the boy standing next to him, fits balled in the pockets of his shorts while the adam’s apple he still needs to grow into bobs in his throat. 

For as much as no one wants to draw in the silent standoff you’ve entered, you started this mess, so you might as well be the first one to fold. 

“H-hi. Sorry, I um, I didn’t wanna interrupt-” 

“I mean, you did.” The shorter boy mumbles, wincing as the nervous one slaps him in the chest with the back of his hand. “Jesus, what was that for, asswad?!” 

“Let her talk!” He grunts, sneering at his friend before turning back to you, his face much kinder now than the expression he just gave to his friend. “Sorry. You can um, you can keep talking if you want. Sorry about him.” 

You try not to laugh at the exchange, but it’s hard not to smirk at the way the two have managed to put themselves on display in the thirty seconds you’ve spent talking to them. 

“It’s okay. I um- I just moved in down the street. That green house over there.” All of your eyes shift as you point behind you, signaling where your journey had begun a few moments ago, “I was uh- I was wondering if you guys wanted another person to play with? I- I brought my own football.” 

“Normally you only need one football to play football, duh. Do you even know how football works?” 

In an instant, your heart sinks to your gut, eyes dropping to the ground to watch your feet start to drag across the pavement, back to where you came. But before you can lift the sole of your sneaker from the cement, a voice stops you. 

“She obviously does or she wouldn’t ask, numbnuts! C’mon, Santi, don’t be a dick.” 

Although it’s not directed at you, it’s enough to bring your attention back to the kinder boy, no name yet, but quite positive it’s not also Santi (or asswad). The two of you lock eyes for a moment, a strange sort of calm running through you as his slight half smile reveals his brace covered teeth, looking at you in a way that makes you feel just a little less small. 

“Yeah, you can play with us. I’m Frankie, by the way.” 

Frankie. 

There’s something about his name that fits him so perfectly. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but you know from the way it rolls off your tongue that it just feels right. 

“Hi, Frankie. I’m Mackenzie.” 

Frankie’s hands are now out of his pockets, a line of defense dismantled after hearing your name. 

“Hello? Have we forgotten about me? There are three of us here, remember?” 

“This is Santi. Well, Santiago, but we all call him Santi.” The way Frankie rolls his eyes at his friend tells you everything you need to know about their friendship, giggling at the way he dramatically pouts as he introduces him. 

“Mackenzie? Isn’t that, like, a last name?” Santi asks, still not yet warmed up to the idea of you, but intrigued enough to ease how tightly his arms are crossed. 

“And? Isn’t Santiago the capital of Chile?” You sass, your mater-of-factness and quick wit making Frankie unintentionally snort. 

“Alright, touché, Christopher Columbus.” Santi mocks, acting tough to try and hide the pink blooming in his cheeks. 

“I like Mackenzie. I think it’s cool.” 

There’s something about the way he says it that you know he means it, wondering why the way hearing your name fall from his lips churns your stomach in a sensation you’d never felt before this moment. 

“Yeah, well, just so you know, Frankie is short for Francisco.” Santi interrupts, trying to find a way to get a jab back at either you or Frankie, at this point he doesn't really care which. 

“Well, last time I checked, there wasn’t a Francisco, Chile.” 

That one sends Frankie into full blown hysterics, boyish snickers taunting his friend, whose attempt to save his namesake has left him the butt of the joke. 

“Will the two of you clowns just shut up and throw the ball? If you’re gonna let her play, Frank, can we at least make sure she can throw?” Santi whines, using every ounce of prepubescent strength he has left to play into his unbothered facade. 

“You can use your ball if you want.” Frankie suggests, shrugging at his indifference to the ball held in your hand compared to the one held in yours. 

“No! If she’s playin’, she’s usin’ our ball!” Santi’s voice trails further away with each step back he takes, settling himself in the middle of the street a few feet down from where you and Frankie stood, not willing to take any more risks when it comes to you, even if it’s something as stupid as a football. 

“Fine by me.” You shrug, happily obliging to his request, Frankie giving you a silent nod of reassurance as he passes his football off to you. 

It’s only now you notice he’s nervous again, one hand back in his pocket as he wriggles his toes in the ends of his worn sneakers while you size up your toss, knowing he’s worried that Santi will never let him live it down if the ball can’t make it more than three feet in front of you. 

Neither of you would know it then, but the silent exchange you make with Frankie as you line up your throw would be the first of many unspoken promises you’d keep to him. What seemed like a simple task,  to prove worthy of his friendship by throwing a football, would turn out to be the most important promise you'll ever make to Fransisco Morales. 

You weren’t ever going to let him down. 

“You can go further back.” You shout, almost offended by the distance Santi had chosen to stand away from you. 

“If you can make it this far, I’ll be impressed.” 

“You promise you’ll go get it after I throw it past you?” 

“I promise, Joe Montana, throw the damn ball.” 

You shrug at Frankie, like he’s supposed to know what comes next. He’s too scared to question either of you, all he can do is let his eyes dart back and forth between you and Santi, knowing there’s no world where both of you can prove your point. What scares him more is that he trusts you more than his friend. 

You line your fingers up on the laces, gripping the leather like your life depends on it. In a way, it does. With a step forward, your arm hurls the ball, two of the three of you standing dumbfounded in the street as you watch it soar further and further past its intended target, spirling through the sky until it bounces off the cement with an acrobatic roll, three times the distances of where Santi had placed himself. 

You don’t say anything. You don’t need to. You just smile and shrug- it's the best “I told you so” you could give them. 

“Fine. She can stay.” 

To this day, it’s the closest you’ll ever get to a compliment from Santi. 

“Nice work, Kenz.” 

Your stomach flips. You try to blame it on the adrenaline of it all, that there was no way a compliment so simple had you wiping your sweaty palms over the denim of your shorts, trying your best to erase any evidence that he was the reason your heart was racing out of your chest. 

Now it’s 15 years later, and as much as you hate him, you still can’t get that goofy, brace faced smile out of your mind. 

Frankie, Present 

There’s a reason he shows up at 1 A.M. Everyone’s asleep. If the world is asleep around him, he’s safe from having to deal with anyone, at least until morning. There’s a part of him that wishes he would have parked his truck down the street, tricking you into thinking that he wasn’t even there. 

It’s hard to justify when you’re the reason he’s back home in the first place. 

When he got the call from his mom, he knew he had to come. He didn't want to, but he knew he’d hate himself forever if he didn’t. 

“Hey, Mamá.” 

“Francisco, how quickly can you make it home?”  

“Mom, I told you, I’m not-” 

“It’s Doug. He’s in hospice.” 

“Fuck. How um- how much longer do they think he has?” 

“When I talked to Michelle, she said they were hoping for a few more weeks. But I’m not sure. He doesn’t look good, mi amor. If you want to say your goodbyes, now’s the time.” 

“O-okay. I can probably be home by tomorrow. Gonna be late though. Is uh- is she, um-” 

“She’s here. For about a week or so already. She keeps looking over at your empty spot in the driveway just like she did all those years you were away. Waiting for you, Francisco.” 

It’s the lump in his throat and ache in his chest that gets him home an hour and fifteen minutes faster than what his GPS said it would. He’s not sure what delusional part of his mind thinks that maybe you’ll be waiting for him when he pulls into the driveway. Maybe it’s the same delusional part of his mind that pictured you sitting there, cross legged on the concrete, staring up at the sky to count stars like sheep, waiting for him to come home all those years ago. 

He’s also not sure why it hurts so bad when he shows up and you’re not there. 

Frankie feels like he’s 16 again, sneaking into his own house in the wee hours of the night, digging the spare key out from under the doormat, attentive to the practiced pattern of how to avoid squeaks in the hinges as he turns the lock behind him, careful not to wake a single sleeping soul. He tiptoes over the 4th stair to the second floor and barely taps the 7th before he finds shelter in his room, successful from his journey. 

Every time he comes home, he can’t help but laugh at the fact his mother refuses to change anything about his bedroom. Everything is in the same place it was the day he left for the Air Force, down to the pile of unfinished homework from his Senior year of high school stacked on his desk. Each time he sees it, he’s never sure if the source of his laughter is nostalgia or irony. Maybe it’s a little bit of both. 

When he looks at the picture frames scattered across his nightstand, a 17 year old Frankie stares back at him, tall and gangly, arms too big for his own body, an awful haircut he begged his mom to let him get. It was the year he discovered how much he couldn’t live without a hat, simply out of necessity for the 6 months it took for his hair to grow back out. You were the first one to tell him how cute he looked in the one hat he already owned. He bought three more in the weeks to come. 

He wonders what the 17 year old in those pictures staring back at him would think of him now. If there’s one thing he knows for certain, it’s that high school him would have beat the shit out of him for the way things turned out, scrawny limbs and all. 

It seems like the military has taught him how to sleep anywhere besides his own home, keeping company with the shadows dancing on his ceiling in the moonlight, tossing and turning in the tattered sheets of the twin sized bed his mom promised she’d upgrade when he got big enough. To this day, he and his mom both know he was never begging her for a new bed because he had outgrown it, he just always wanted to make room for one more person. 

He clocks 3 and a half hours of sleep as good enough, creeping out of his house the same way he had come in, making the 5.4 mile trip to Benson Park to watch the sun rise. Frankie’s always hated running, it’s just as much of a surprise to him as it is to everyone else that he keeps doing it. It makes his knees hurt like shit and his lungs feel like they’re being strangled by rubber bands, a cruel cycle of self punishment he can’t seem to shake his addiction for. 

He’s sat on the same side of the bench underneath the ancient Blooming Dogwood since the first time he came here. He tried one time to sit on the other side. He’s superstitious enough to believe his one time fuck up has had a lasting effect. The bench is so hidden at the back of the park, he likes to think that the two of you are the only ones to have ever found it. No one else has ever burst through the bubble of secrets shared between the two of you there, leaving the wood grain to be stained with memories and moments that have shaped the both of you, good and bad. 

It’s the first place you ever told him about your dad. It’s the first place he ever told you about his. His dad was already nothing but memories by then. It makes him sick to his stomach that soon, that’s all you’ll have left, too. 

Frankie, Fall of 1999, Age 11

“How much longer do we have, Frankie? I feel like my legs are gonna fall off!” 

“Quit being such a baby, you’re fine!” 

“Next time we have to ride our bikes this far, I’m pulling an E.T. and riding in the front basket of your bike.” 

“Perfect, you look just like him.” 

“Frankie!” 

“Kidding, kidding!” 

Frankie’s never had a friend like you before. Sure, he’s got Santi, but it’s not quite the same. 

Santi took some easing into- five years ago, when Frankie moved onto Everett Street, he became a friend by force, not choice. Santi staked his claim on him, seeing Frankie as a gift sent straight from heaven, finally having another boy his age to play with after too many years of being sentenced to dress up and tea parties from his 3 older sisters. 

Santi was everything Frankie wasn’t- loud, assertive, the kind of friend who grabs you by the hand and drags you along with them whether you liked it or not. There’s times now, after a half a decade of friendship, that Frankie still questions the way Santi’s brain is wired, but Frankie’s too good of a friend to ever make a fuss about it. 

You, on the other hand, needed no easing into. From the moment he met you, watching you toss that football so far past Santi that he was convinced it would disappear on the other end of the street, Frankie had been mesmerized by you. 

There’s something about you that makes him feel a weird thump in his chest every time you’re together. Everything about you gives him comfort in a way he can’t describe, a safety he’s felt with very few other people in his life until now. 

There’s just something about you. He still hasn’t been able to quite pinpoint what it is. 

Whatever it may be, it’s enough to invite you on a bike ride to the back of Benson Park instead of Santi. 

“Do you even know where we are? I don’t think there’s any more park left past this point, Frankie.” You huff, slowing the wheels of your bike behind him as you come to the edge of a steep rolling hill, nothing left in front of you but acres of empty land and tall grass. 

“Yeah, I do. Maybe we just passed the trail on the way in. We’ll just- We can just find it on the way back.” 

He knows you know he’s fibbing, but he wants your trust that he won’t lead you astray more than he wants to tell the truth. 

“Okay. There’s a bench underneath that tree. Can we just sit for a little bit before my legs turn to jello?” 

You’re already halfway off your bike before he can respond. Even if he had said no, there’s no way he’d leave without you. 

“Fine. What flavor jello?” 

“Whatever flavor is your least favorite so you don’t eat my legs, Francisco. That’s just weird.” 

The two of you laugh, tossing your bikes to the ground as you bottoms find the wood of the bench you’d pointed out, you on the right side, Frankie on the left. 

“My mom only ever gets the red kind. I don’t even really like it that much. Don’t worry, you’re safe, Kenz.” 

“I don’t really like it either. But we have every flavor at my house ‘cause that’s like, all my dad eats.” 

Frankie starts to laugh like you’re playing a joke on him, trying to pretend your dad’s diet exists exclusively of artificially flavored gelatin, but your sudden silence and the way your voice drops to the ground right with your eyes tells him he’d better stop snickering. 

“Your dad only eats jello?” 

“Well not only, but a lot of it, I guess.” 

His face scrunches with a mixture of confusion and concern at your sadness. He’s never heard you this quiet before. 

“Um, w-why?” 

The silence is almost deafening. He’s not sure why he should be so concerned with asking about jello, but he’s too curious to let it go. He selfishly wants to know what about it makes you so upset, because he just as selfishly hopes there’s something he can do to make you feel better. 

“My dad has cancer. He’s really sick. He can’t really eat a lot, but jello’s the one thing he can keep down most of the time without, like, throwing up or whatever.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, like you’re worried someone else will hear and spill the rest of your secrets right along with this one. You say it like he’s the only one in the world you want to hear it. 

“I’m- I’m sorry. That sucks.” 

Frankie blames it on his instincts, the way his hand finds yours, outstretched on the bench. He touches you like he’s handling a baby bird who’s fallen out of its nest, delicate and careful, calculated, hoping you won’t try to fly away in fear. Instead, your hand welcomes his, scooting closer to the weight of his palm resting on top of it. He feels you give in as you let him carry you back to safety of the tree you’ve descended from. 

“It’s okay. That’s why we moved here. The doctors in Michigan said that there were even better doctors here who could maybe help make his cancer go away.” 

“And then maybe he won’t have to eat as much jello.” He takes a gamble with the joke, but it pays off with your surprised snort, “Sorry, that was stupid. I shouldn’t be joking about it.” 

“I mean, it was, but it was funny. It’s okay, my dad jokes about it, too. He always says, one day, it’ll be funny, so might as well make that day today.” 

His heart warms as he watches a small smile return to your face. It heats the pink in his cheeks when he realizes he was the one who helped bring it back. 

“Your dad sounds nice.” 

“He is. Even though he doesn’t feel good a lot of the time, he still always tries to come to my soccer games and stuff. I know he can’t be like what he was before he was sick, but he tries to be. What about your dad?” 

Frankie prays you don’t notice the way his heart sinks like he noticed yours. He chews on the inside of his lip so hard, he thinks it may bleed. He wants to lie, but he knows that you’ll know. You always know. 

“Um, I don’t- I don’t really see my dad.” 

It’s you now who's grabbing his hand, offering him the same type of safety net he’d made for you. He’s barely known you two months. He’s known Santi for five years and all he knows is that his dad doesn’t live with him. Frankie didn’t want to tell him, he’s not sure he’d understand. There’s a strange sensation that swirls in his gut, because he wants to tell you. You’d laid the first brick in the foundation of trust between the two of you. The least he can do is help you keep building. 

“Oh. Why don’t you see him?” He sees you’re prying, but not in a way that hopes to expose him. He knows you’re prying because you want him to let you in, to get a peek at what's behind the curtain. It’s a locked door most people in his life will ever get access to, but he’ll let you have a spare set of keys. 

“I never really knew him. My mom said he left when I was a baby. She says she’s always been happy it’s just me and her. That it was easier to live with one less person than to live with someone who was mean.” 

“Your mom sounds like a wise lady.” 

He appreciates the fact humor was your first response, too, it makes the sting of ripping the stitches off a still-healing wound hurt just a little less. 

“Yeah, I guess so. Still kinda wish I had a dad, though, ya know?” 

“You can borrow my dad whenever you want. As long as you don’t mind super embarrassing, stupid jokes.” 

“Are they as bad as mine?” 

“No. They’re worse.” 

Neither of you would have minded staying just a little bit longer, but the bright reds and yellows of the setting October sky remind you both that the parents you’ve opened up about are expecting you back before night washes over the quaint suburbia of your town. The bike ride home is much quieter than the one there, but the simple silence seems to speak louder than anything he’d have to say. 

The next day, Frankie would raid the cabinets of his kitchen for every last packet of jello he could find and bring them all to your front door.

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog @itsokbbygrl

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @jolapeno @ovaryacted

@amanitacowboy @mystickittytaco @anoverwhelmingdin @greenwitchfromthewoods

@witchofthedeepwoods @ericamarie093 @readingiskeepingmegoing @whimsiwitchy @whoaitspascal87

@vickie5446 @katw474 @ravenpoe67 @inthedarkestnight @brittmb115

@harryscherrysugar

@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[theyluvkarolina]

౨ৎ APPLE OF MY EYE ౨ৎ

masterlist / rules / requests & talks with me!

SUMMARY౨ৎ fernando loves his little girl. and he isn’t afraid to show that. from her first time in the garage, to her first ever football game. Best of all? Everyone loves girl-dad fernando!! (a smau compilation of fernando, you, and camila 🩵) requested!

PAIRING ౨ৎ Fernando Alonso x Wife!Reader

WARNINGS ౨ৎ none! super fluffy 🩵 (fernando types like a dad, i don’t make the rules) VERY SHORT!

A/N ౨ৎ little camila has been converted into a oc at this point?? i mean she’s been in not one but 2 fernando fics already. unintentionally created a oc haha

PART 1: `` ౨ৎ SECRET IS OUT ౨ৎ `` ,

EXTRA: `` ౨ৎSLIPPING THROUGH MY FINGERS౨ৎ ``

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM, DECEMBER 2023

y/n_l/n & fernandoalo_offical have made a new post!

liked by astonmartinf1, lace_stroll, carlossainz55, and others

y/n_l/n a little someone is done cooking… welcome to the world Camila 🎀

1,396 comments

user1 OMG IT HAPPENED 🥹🥹

user2 CAMILA L/N-ALONSO HAS BEEN BORN

user3 project verstappen is a go.

→ user4 project verstappen??? more like project alonso 🗣️

→ user5 OOOHH FERNANDO ALONSO!!! 🗣️🔥

f1 ✔︎ the young rookie finally has his own young one! Congratulations you two! Can’t wait to see her in the garage! 🏁

francisca.cgomes ✔︎ AHHH SHE’S SO CUTE! CAN’T WAIT TO MEET HER 🩷

y/n_l/n all doors are open for you 😚

landonorris ✔︎ papaya fan in the making? 👀🍊

→ fernandoalo_offical ✔︎ no! 🎉 🎊 🎈

→ oscarpiastri ✔︎ that’s a orange

→ landonorris ✔︎ no shit sherlock

astonmartinf1 ✔︎ Congratulations to our new crew member! 😊

→ y/n_l/n 💚

estebanocon ✔︎ glad to know that Lance didn’t spoil this one!

→ lance_stroll ✔︎ haha funny. 🫤

oscarpiastri ✔︎ seems i won’t be the youngest on the grid anymore 😅

→ y/n_l/n don’t worry oscar, you’re still my adopted son 🫂

→ oscarpiastri ✔︎ good to know 🙃

→ landonorris ✔︎ what about me @ y/n_l/n??? 🤨

→ y/n_l/n you’ve been demoted since you helped lance leak my baby shower 😒

→ landonorris ✔︎ I SAID SORRY

→ y/n_l/n apology NOT accepted

maxverstappen1 ✔︎ …are toy donations still up for grabs?

→ kellypiquet ✔︎ …Max? 🤨

→ maxverstappen1 ✔︎ you saw nothing.

lilymunihe ✔︎ officially a milf???

→ y/n_l/n hell yeah 😍😍😋

TWITTER, 2026

INSTAGRAM, FUTURE (2026)

fernandoalo_offical ✔︎

liked by y/n_l/n, landonorris, charles_leclerc, and others

fernandoalo_offical Camila’s first race! Everything's better with loved ones in the garage ❤️

tagged; y/n_l/n

2,348 comments

y/n_l/n @ landonorris why are you bribing my child with hats 🤨

→ landonorris ✔︎ those are very bold accusations you’re throwing Mrs. L/N-Alonso 🤔

→ y/n_l/n then why did she come home saying mclaren is the best??

→ landonorris ✔︎ ….ask oscar?

→ y/n_l/n you lost babysitting privileges.

→ oscarpiastri ✔︎ gotta show her the better team 🤷

→ y/n_l/n YOU LOST THEM TOO. KIKA AND LILY ARE NOW IN CHARGE.

→ francisca.cgomes ✔︎ yes ma’am. 😳

→ lilymunihe ✔︎ yay!

→ lilyzneimer yay!

→ lilymunihe ✔︎ …🤨 @ lilyzneimer

→ lilyzneimer …🤨 @ lilymunihe

user6 MOM IS BACK IN THE PADDOCK!!

user7 i love how fernando just posts his family instead of anythin team related 😭

→ astionmartinf1 ✔︎ still waiting to be seen 😞👊

→ fernandoalo_offical ✔︎ the wife and camila come first ❤️

→ y/n_l/n as it should :)

fernandoalo_offical ✔︎

liked by fernandoalonso, francisca.cgomes, kellypiquet, and others

y/n_l/n quick late summer break :)

tagged; fernandoalonso

3,208 comments

user8 DILF!! DILF!! DILF!! 📢‼🚨🚨📣🗣🗣⚠️

user9 my dilf senses are tingling 🤤

user10 PEOPLE ARE TALKING ABOUT FERNANDO WHAT ABOUT CAMILA :(( SHE LOOKS SO HAPPY 🥹🩷

→ user11 THIS!! YOU KNOW THAT LITTLE GIRL IS LOVED BY HOW MUCH FERNANDO (FERNANDO FOR CRYING OUT LOUD) POSTS HER 🥹

→ fernandoalo_offical ✔︎ Ella es mi princesita, of course I post her ☺️

→ user12 “she’s my princess” IM GONNA CRY.

user13 ugh y/n is so classy.

→ user14 very classy very demure

francisca.cgomes ✔︎ she’s growing up so fast 🥹🥹

→ y/n_l/n I know! I still remember when she was just born 🩷

→ fernandoalo_offical ✔︎ and I still remember you screaming and crushing my hand 😅

→ y/n_l/n we agreed to keep this silent 😞

fernandoalo_offical ✔︎

liked by f1, georgerussell63, astonmartinf1, and others

fernandoalonso father like daughter!

tagged; y/n_l/n

2,348 comments

user15 PROJECT VERSTAPPEN!!

→ user16 NO, PROJECT HAMILTON

→ user17 i say project schumacher 🙃

→ fernandoalo_offical ✔︎ everyone forgot about project alonso 😞

→ user18 look at what you guys did. you made grandpa sad.

lewishamilton ✔︎ already better than most people i knew of on the track! 🤩 🏁

→ nicorosberg ✔︎ …🤨

astonmartinf1 ✔︎ already preparing for that seat 👀

→ user19 yeah, if lance or fernando ever leave 😭

→ user20 LMAO

f1 ✔︎ Future World Champion in the making!

→ user21 a woman could be f1 champion 😂🤣

→ oscarpiastri ✔︎ imagine bullying a little girl @ user21

→ landonorris ✔︎ imagine hating on a little girl that could kick your ass in karting @ user21

→ maxverstappen1 ✔︎ imagine feeling the need to say something out of your ass because your jealous she can be better than you @ user21

→ carlossainz55 ✔︎ imagine being such a lowlife @ user21

→ charles_leclerc ✔︎ imagine being such a piece of shit @ user21

→ lance_stroll ✔︎ imagine taking your anger on a girl who’s father loves her enough to put her into something she loves and you couldn’t because your father left for milk and never came home after 40+ years. @ user21

view 1239 more comments by alexalbon, lewishamilton, yukitsunoda, and others?

→ user22 watching the grid defend camila and degrade this middle-aged man is the highlight of my day.

→ y/n_l/n couldn’t have asked for better friends 🥹

INSTAGRAM

y/n_l/n

y/n_l/n my babies ❤️

tagged; fernandoalonso, oscarpiastri, lilyzneimer

3,208 comments

oscarpiastri ✔︎ mama e papa

→ user23 NOT FERNANDO AND Y/N ADOPTING OSCAR AND LILY

→ fernandoalo_offical ✔︎ mi amor, you do know that oscar and lily aren’t our children right?

→ y/n_l/n what do you mean i literally birthed them out of my vagina??

→ oscarpiastri ✔︎ wait wouldn’t that make her my sister and not… my girlfriend..? 😬

→ y/n_l/n i take it back i didn’t birth them out from inside of me

user24 the family we didn’t know we needed

user25 HER FLUFFY DRESS.

→ y/n_l/n alexandra picked it out! she taste in fashion is impeccable ❤️

→ alexandrasaintmleux ✔︎ always happy to help out! it was the best having camila with us during the ceremony 🩷

user26 the way she sat on Fernando’ss laop the whole time and clapped when everyone started clapping 😭

→ user27 AND WHEN SHE WOULD SAY HI TO THE DRIVERS ON THE STAGE WHEN THEY WERE CALLED UP

→ user28 everyone loves camila l/n-alonso

maxvertsappen1 ✔︎ stop she is so cute im crying 😭😭😭😭😭😭🥹🥹😞😞😓😓😔😔😔🫶🤌🥰

→ charles_leclerc ✔︎ max how drunk on alcohol are you right now?

→ maxvertsappen1 ✔︎ 5’11

→ landonorris ✔︎ HE SAID DRUNK NOT HIGH YOU MUPPET 💀

fernandoalo_offical ✔︎

🎵 Slipping Through My Fingers - ABBA

liked by lewishamilton, yukitsunoda, felipedrugovich, and others

fernandoalonso ¡Creciendo tan rápido! First day of school already! 🏫 Camila even got asked what she wanted to be when she grew up and said she’d like to be a engineer ❤️

tagged; y/n_l/n

2,348 comments

user29 THE SONG.

→ user30 NONONO I CAN’T DO THIS. NOT WITH THIS SONG :(

→ user31 “Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning”

→ user32 “Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile”

→ landonorris ✔︎ ENOUGH OF THIS YOU MONSTERS.

oscarpiastri ✔︎ i can you you crying from your hotel room @ landonorris

→ landonorris ✔︎ LEAVE ME ALONE LET ME CRY IN PEACE.

user33 mama mia core 😭

user34 i just watched a child grow up. i feel so old.

landonorris ✔︎ i swore she was just born 4 months ago

→ y/n_l/n and i swore i saw you bribbing her to be a mclaren fan not too long ago too! 😊

lance_stroll ✔︎ will miss seeing her in the garage 😞

→ y/n_l/n Camila says she’ll miss you too Lancey 💚

→ user37 MORE LACEY STROLLY AND CAMILA CONTENT 🗣️

user35 SHE 😭 WANTS 😭 TO 😭 BE 😭A 😭 ENGINEER

user36 mark my words she will be in f1 one way or another.

kellypiquet ✔︎ the absolute cutest. can’t wait for her a P to hang out again sometime soon!

♥️ liked by Author!

→ y/n_l/n planning the next play date already!

TWITTER, 204?

INSTAGRAM, 204?

camila_y/nalonso has made a new post!

camila_y/nalonso truly a honor for my dream to come true. from being a little girl watching everything happen, to finally working on everything happening. ¡Vamos, McLaren! (P.S Thank you Uncle Lando for getting me into McLaren 🧡 )

tagged; mclaren

3,405 comments

fernandoalo_offical ✔︎ Esa es mi chica. ❤️ (That's my girl.)

[donetbhlmao]

every time i rewatch the bear i think about how sydney (often) actively resists opening up emotionally to/getting closer to carmy - more under the cut

moments that immediately come to mind:

when carm asks syd about her dad in s2 e2: she interrupts him and brings the convo back to food.

when carmy asks syd about her new place and how her dad is feeling about the move in s3: i don't remember the actual episode but she interrupts him again to talk about work. what was the reason!!!

when carmy initially asks about syd's mom in s2: she has shown that talking about her mom is difficult (see: her convo with marcus at her place when she made him a beautiful meal), so this could be ambiguous but i think still worth mentioning.

WHEN CARMY TELLS HER SHE LOOKS NICE IN S3: she immediately takes off her bow???? i havent been able to stop thinking about this beat because why does she do that. does she not want to be perceived by him that way? does she feel guilty because she just got back from meeting with another chef for another position (thereby potentially dissolving her and carmy's partnership)? WHY WHY WHY (also she's so real for this because i think it's at least partially meant to signal that she's uncomfortable with his attention if he's not going to accompany it with meaningful communication). yes she favors scarves in the kitchen and she was getting ready for work but i think there's something else going on and have been rotating this scene in my head like it's a rotisserie chicken.

the fact that she half-lied about why she came to work at the bear in the first place, and, relatedly, that he made the best meal she ever had: maybe carm caught onto this one but she doesn't ever openly tell him that she's a fan of his work (and that he made the best meal she ever had!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) i say half-lied because she almost immediately tells him that she knows who he is. so.

i've been thinking a lot about syd's feelings for carmy and how she likely fears emotional intimacy with him. it's a stark contrast to how easily she opens up to marcus or asks richie questions about his daughter or even mentors/becomes friends with tina.

carmy is deeply interested in syd as a person and SHOWS it - in fact the few times in s3 that he's civil to her is when they are not working in the stresses of the kitchen and he's asking her about her life.

i can't think of a time where syd asks CARMY about his family (remember - she asks richie about michael), and when he opens up (without prompting from her!!!) about michael being an addict to her she lightens the mood with a joke, and when he opens up about how donna was a nightmare and he's trying to reclaim cannolis, all she says is "whoa." (btw i actually love sydney because she's so emotionally stunted like that's my girl <3)

she will open up about sheridan road, and her fear of failure (so inherent to who she is and her motivations in the show!), but not so much about HERself and her personal life. it's fascinating.

an exception to this is when syd tells carmy to call richie and apologize - even then it's not syd "asking" per se, but it is her taking a step and knowing what's best for carmy (and the kitchen) in that moment.

i think this is meant to indicate how carmy is different from everyone else in syd's life - almost like he doesn't "fit" into any of the other boxes she has for people.

now, i personally read this as romantic. there's something BIG blocking sydney from accepting that, though, and i think it's that carmy is so tied to her passion, her profession, her LIFE'S WORK, and she will not, cannot, fuck that up. we all talk about claire being an obstacle to a potential romantic connection between the two - and she is - but i truly think sydney's unwillingness to confront her interest in carmy is a bigger, more substantial hurdle (though not at all impossible to overcome!)

[sometimesanalice]

for the prompt party, how about: “i can’t help it,  i feel so sleepy and cozy now.” with our fave blue eyed WSO?

💖 @callsignspark

A reason to write a sleepy, cozy, domestic Bob?!?! Don’t mind if I do, Elle! 🫶🏻 (ps I still owe you a birthday fic, but please accept this humble offering in the meantime!)

There were a lot of things you liked about Bob Floyd.

You liked that he’d made a point to read your favorite book when you’d first started dating, because he wanted understand the things that made you you. 

You liked that he was the type of man to remember an offhand remark, it was as if he wanted to collect every crumb of you and nothing was too small to escape his notice. Like the time you mentioned being excited for summer fruit season, and he’d brought you a box of peaches from the farmers market the moment they’d arrived.

And you really liked the way he whispered the sweetest things as he fucked you into the mattress, the intoxicating sound of his baritone murmuring in your ear as he rendered you thoroughly boneless. His honeyed tongue was just as good at making you swoon as it did at making you come. 

But one of the most unexpected things you’d learned about him since he’d become your boyfriend, was that he could not seem to make it past the first 40 minutes of a movie without falling asleep. 

The two of you had sailed through that tentatively affectionate part of starting a new relationship, where every inch moved the two of you moved closer to each other felt like a new milestone. 

From sitting a respectful distance, pinkies just barely touching, in the getting to know you stage. To sitting snuggled close with his arm over your shoulder, enjoying getting to be curled up against him because you could and he was yours. To straddling his lap, those big hands roaming everywhere, and missing whatever was on TV completely because close enough wasn’t close enough. 

You’d been a big fan of each phase, but your favorite was easily when he was sprawled out on top of you like your own personal weighted blanket.

The first time he’d done it was after you’d made him your family’s favorite chicken soup recipe. The weather had just started to change, which in San Diego didn’t mean much, but you’d decided that since it was technically Fall it had been time to woo him with something warm.

He’d just finished doing the dishes, at his insistence, since you’d been the one to cook. You were lounging across the couch trying to find a movie to watch when he’d come over- with a groan and stretch that had revealed just a peek of skin- and flopped himself right on top of you, still ever careful in that way of his. All of his warmth, all of his sturdy weight pressing you into the cushions of your couch.

No one had ever made you feel as safe and secure as he did.

You were only a few minutes into the comedy you’d put on when you felt him stir, trying to sit up. “‘m sorry, honey, I’m probably squishing you.”

“I can take it,” you’d teased, with a wink before wrapping your arms and legs around him, keeping him in place.

He didn’t protest further, only inched himself over a little bit so that the couch was doing most of the work, while you combed your fingers through his hair.

The movie hadn’t even reached the half way point when you heard the first of his soft snores. You’d smiled to yourself and let the movie finish playing, not wanting to disturb him by reaching for the remote.

What you didn’t expect was for it to become a thing. 

You thought it was a fluke the first time it had happened.

The second time it happened, you thought he might have been messing with you. 

By the third, you were entirely amused.

When the two of you were curled up together on the couch, Bob was always slipping a hand under your shirt, his fingers idly tracing patterns onto your skin until slowly but surely they stopped moving at all. Usually right around the time you hear those first deep, slow breaths and quiet sighs of sleep.

But tonight, you’d decide to put your theory to the test. With your handsome blue eyed boy draped across you, you cued up a movie, stealthily starting the timer on your phone at the same time you’d clicked play. 

And sure enough, around 33 minutes in those long fingers of his stopped their circling. And just past the 40 minute mark you’d heard that gentle snore. 

You bite your lip, trying not to giggle. "Bob."

There's a long beat. “Hm.”

"Are you awake?” you ask, rubbing his back.

“Just resting my eyes.” It’s a sleepy mumble.

“Oh, really,” you muse. “Well then, can you tell me what just happened? It was pretty big plot twist.”

He lifts his head up, propping himself up on an arm to look at you.

“If you get me a couple minutes to google it I can,” he says with a sheepish smile.

You tip your head back and laugh, entirely and thoroughly charmed by him. “Is that what you’ve been doing after every movie night? Because I’ve been keeping track, and you sir, have yet to make it all the way through any of movies we’ve watched in the last few weeks.”

“Busted, huh?”

“Very. I had a theory and everything, backed with some serious scientific evidence,” you tease, brushing his hair back from his forehead.

Bob huffs a laugh, his ears a sweet shade of pink. “I can’t help it,” he says, doubling down and nuzzling his face into your neck, “I feel so sleepy and cozy now. You’re so soft and you smell really nice.”

Fond. You’re just so fond of him.

“Let’s make a deal,” you suggest, dropping a kiss to the top of his head. “As the official resident de facto cinephile in the relationship, I’ll handle all the movie related questions the next time we go to trivia night with your friends, sounds good?”

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” You feel his smile pressed against your neck.

“Ok, you can go back to ‘resting your eyes’. I’ll send you the wiki article for you to read later.”

He chuckles softly. “I love you, honey. You’re the best.”

You were already warm with him on you, but now it radiates all the way down to your toes. “I love you too.”

[thedeskofaltoclef]

How I became The Desk of Alto Clef.

My response to a SCP Group designed around Hate and Bigotry who have targeted me and others in this community.

Nah, man, my daughter is dead.

It has been brought to my attention that there is a group of people on the internet who are fascinated with my fascination of Alto Clef and Meri. Hurtful and yet cute in a way so I think now I'll choose this time and these screen grabs from their discord to explain how I came to be 'The Desk of Alto Clef'.

My Daughter died six years ago and it sent me spiraling deep into the bottom of whatever bottle I could find.

I was completely prepared to take my own life and even had the things to 'finish the job' because my life had no meaning at that point. What was another statistic going to matter anyways, right?

It was in one of these dark, drunk moments with a gun when I fell across the Volgun's video on 'reality benders and you' and fell into a rabbit hole.

Drunkenly I fumbled around the wiki and learned more about this broken man known as Alto Clef.

A man whom I could relate to in my own way. A man who, no matter what he did, could never see his daughter as I will never be able to see mine. So thus, I became a very, very shitty cosplayer.

I like to believe that over the past four years my acting ability has increased to a sustainable level and as much as I joke about things I do try to stay humble about it. Though I like to think I've become better but I digress.

I love the lore of Clef and Meri, on or offsite, to the point that I am weird about it I know, but that's how I stay connected to my daughter. Writing the Deskverse is how I stay connected to my daughter.

I am also autistic which causes me to hyper fixate on Clef as a coping mechanism.

Because of this group of people I have greatly considered leaving the community and going back to my own personal solitude. Acting, Voice Acting, Cosplaying as Clef gave and still gives me something to live for again. I may not be this group's cup of tea but I do like to believe that I have helped others. My main goal has always been to uplift those who need uplifting. I do not want anyone to ever feel how I felt in my lowest and darkest moments.

The main story in the deskverse is about a father and a daughter torn apart by the actions of an abusive mother. My real life story.

I also have ZERO clue as to why I am being involved with misogyny or yuri things. If I have offended you in any way I do apologize.

I do not plan on posting the more 'suggestive' or 'lewd' responses they have made. Overly sexualized content does make me extremely uncomfortable.

This group of people have broken my heart into pieces. Seeing this list of images and names dragging me through the mud has already smashed my unstable self-esteem as it is.

At this time I do not plan on releasing any names associated with all of this because I am honestly tired of reliving the most horrid event of my life over and over because I, for whatever reason, do not fit what this group feels is acceptable of an actor/writer/fan.

I cannot say the same for the others in which they were assaulting.

In summary Alto Clef is an outlet for the pain I live with every day. I can never see, hold, hear, smell, or speak to my daughter. I have scars on my body from her mother that will never allow me to forget that life I had. I will always remember the taste of gunpowder but thankfully my drunk ass was too weak. If your going to be bad at something, be bad at that I suppose.

I will leave all of this with a final image from the copious list and the one that honestly hurts me the most. I am honestly a shy and reserved person and frankly it takes a lot for me to get out of my comfort zone. Not long ago I went to another SCP discord server because I wanted to meet new people and someone in there was awesome. I truly enjoyed my time with this person and just found them amazing. They were kind, open, willing to listen to my ideas, and gushed over Numberonedoggo. I thought I had finally made a new friend on my own. I was apparently wrong.

Art, from some of my favorite artists, was made for the sole reason of mocking me specifically. To laugh at me for finding joy in something that gives me purpose. Something I use to drive away the darkness.

No age, disorder, illness, or reason at all can be acceptable for anyone to act in this way. You are all a mockery of everything the SCP community should stand for.

-TheDesk