Hey! Could you do fic about Fernando Alonso x baker!reader from prompt? Tag me later! Thanks
of course darling. im so sorry it took me this long to get it out for you <3
Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.
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and my masterlist is here <3
fernando alonso x baker!reader
“Hola, welcome to pan y amor, what can i get for you?”
“Your number?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Oh are you taken, my apologies. ”
“...no I’m not taken, just wasn’t expecting you to be so bold. How about you buy something and if you like it you can have my number and take me on a date?”
“I am not usually this bold, I apologise. Okay then, what would you recommend, mi sol?”
“Well, I mean, I have to recommend our natillas de leche, unless your allergic to something in them, then I’d try and think of something else.”
“Not allergic, though if my trainer heard how many of these I was eating.”
“Trainer huh?” as Y/N passed over the natillas. “so , you’re an athlete?”
“F1 driver, Fernando Alonso” he held over his hand to shake, after paying “i’m from here, so I like to come in and spend time with the locals”
“Oh, well I’m not the biggest f1 fan, but I’m sure happy to help the locals, maybe you could introduce me to F1.”
---
“Darling, I’m trying to make some brownies before the bakery opens, you cannot come in here and distract me.”
“Can I make something to help?”
“Do you swear that you will follow my instructions to a T?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Okay, you can make some caramel slices. You need to grab almond meal, vanilla protein powder, rice malt syrup, coconut oil, peanut butter, and dark chocolate, did you understand that?”
“Yes chef!”
“Okay good. It needs to go in the fridge, and then you can work on the strawberry lemon scones and then when i'm working on the tiramisu you can work on the orange loaf.”
“You’re telling me that when i rock up before my girlfriend officially starts work to hang out with her, all that happens if I have to do unpaid work.”
“Well i can’t pay you a f1 driver wage, because i can’t afford it and also you are not an f1 driver equivalent baker. I don’t even know if it’s worth giving you these ingredients for fear that I cannot sell what you make.”
---
“Okay, welcome back to pan y amor, as you know we in Cogollo, are massive f1 fans, so we have made some pumpkin cream cheese muffins to celebrate Fernando’s 33rd win. We had a little birdy tell us that this was his favourite flavour, so here’s how we make it, as always the full recipe will be on our blog y si quieres ver esta receta en español, ve a nuestro perfil, donde repasamos exactamente la misma receta, pero en español, para que todos nuestros fans de habla hispana también puedan seguirla. We’ve started this recipe by preheating the oven to 175 degrees celsius, which is 350 degrees fahrenheit for our American fans.
And as my boyfriend gets in the way, the pumpkin cream cheese muffins are gonna be made slower. He loves this flavour so he’d better get out of my way so I can make the muffins, si, comprendo?”
“Comprendo, capitan!”
Bien, bienvenido de nuevo a pan y amor, como ya sabéis, en Cogollo somos grandes fans de la F1, así que hemos preparado unas magdalenas de calabaza y queso crema para celebrar la victoria número 33 de Fernando. Un pajarito nos dijo que este era su sabor favorito, así que así es como lo preparamos, como siempre la receta completa estará en nuestro blog and if you want to see this recipe in english, go to our profile, where we run through the exact same recipe, but in english, so all our english speaking fans can also follow. Comenzamos esta receta precalentando el horno a 175 grados centígrados.’
'Okay call me delusional, but was that Fernando in this tiktok?'
'Why is fernando voicing a random bakery’s tiktoks?'
'this bakery is in his home town, so maybe he knows them'
'WHY IS THE BAKERY OWNER SO PRETTY'
---
i am going to apologise now because I doubt this made sense :)
taglist: @leosxrealm, @pear-1206, @tallrock35, @wolf-knights, @janeholt3
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Rooms on Fire: Losing My Religion
Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader
Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader
Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader
Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader
Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual
Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist
Spotify playlist
Summery: Madonna has to make a stand.
Warnings and Content:
DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT
DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.
Extra warnings for chapter: Pretty standard tbh
3.6k words
A/N Please know tags have been spotty so check and make sure you're caught up!
"That's me in the corner
That's me in the spot-light
Losing my religion
Trying to keep up with you
And I don't know if I can do it
Oh no I've said too much
I haven't said enough
I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try." ~Losing my Religion, R.E.M
“Will, take her.” Santiago orders Will, and the stronger man tries to take you away from where you cling to Frankie.
Frankie, however, steps away. “No! You aren’t taking her from me!” He looks back and forth between Will, Ben, and Santi. Through the silence, they can all here Iris wailing over Rey’s body in the kitchen. “You’re all fucking insane! None of you get her!”
Ben scoffs. “She doesn’t belong to you, Frank.”
“YES SHE DOES! She’s my WIFE!”
Will steps forward, taking a hand on your leg assertively, looking Frankie in the eyes. His dominance quells the room. “She’s my wife too, Frankie. Let me take her.” In a lower voice, he adds just to Frankie. “It’s gonna be easier if you just go, you know that. I’ll take care of her. I promise.”
Frankie glances at Santi, rage bubbling in him. Will was right. “Sent someone to get Rey’s body, help Iris move him. She’s… she’s not gonna wanna leave his body. We are not making her clean up his blood the way she did Jonah’s, got it?” Francisco rarely spoke this firmly… but he cared about Iris and he wanted Rey’s body respected.
“I will, I promise.” Frankie watched as you left the room in Will’s arms, crying into his chest.
*
Francisco was dragged down the halls, Ben trailing after then after being told to follow, Santi yanking along Frankie’s still-soar arm.
“Show down! Ow!”
“Shut the fuck up!” When they got to Frankie’s bedroom, Santi told Ben to stay outside until he was called. When the door closed, he delivered a crisp slap across Frankie’s face.
“Shit!” Frankie cried, holding his face and tasting blood.
Grabbing his shirt, Santi shoves Ben against the door, making sure Ben hears every Santi is doing to Frankie that he can’t stop.
“Don’t you EVER disrespect me like that again!” He screams, slapping Frankie again and making his head lul to the side. “I AM YOUR GOD!”
Frankie shoves him back. “YOU”RE MY BROTHER! This whole thing is FUCKED Santi!”
Santi went for Frankie’s shirt, tearing at the fabric and buttons as Frankie tried to fight him off. There was a scuffle, slaps to faces and arms and chest before his shirt was pulled off him, showing the scars on Frankie’s arms. Scars that matched Santi’s. Neatly in a line, they were scabbed and new, bruising still around the wounds, each an inch or two long. Santiago pressed their arms together.
“Blood brothers, Frank. Blood brothers. You were made for me, I was made for you, you know that, don’t you?”
Frankie winces at the memory, how Santiago laid him down with a knife, cut into their skin together until they bled. On a bed of blood they fucked, sealing their commitment to each other, or that’s what Santi thought the ritual meant. The whole time, Frankie tried to imagine it was Ben.
Santi didn’t let go of his arm, fingers tracing up and down the scarred skin, picking at a scab until it bled. “You’re mine, Frank. Certainly not Madonna’s. She’s here to have our child. And you’re not Ben’s either.”
His eyes went wide at that, going into defense. Deny, deny, deny, or Ben would be dead.
“Santi, no, we’re not- AH!” Santiago ripped the scab, causing blood to spill out.
“Don’t lie to me! I know you fuck him behind my back. Is that why you care so much about Saha? You fucking him too, just like Madonna?”
Bent over in pain holding his arms, Frankie looks up at Santi in anguish, tears in his eyes as he screams. “HE WAS MY FRIEND! HE WAS HERS! FOR FUCK SAKE SANTIAGO NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT SEX!” He stood up straight, speaking strong even as he cried. “He loved Iris! He loved Iris only and Ben killed him! That girl lost her father and now is sobbing because of her lover's dead body!”
Santiago scoffs. “That’s your fucking boy toy, not mine. I don’t control Ben.”
“That’s the problem! You and Beatri indulged his every whim, Will protected him from any consequence and now he’s a spoiled slut!”
“And what do you think you are? You live in comfort, in excess even, you get fucked by me, Ben, Will, even sliding your cock into Madonna’s little cunt for hours in those meadows because I allow it! You’re just a cockdumb, petulant child who's mad because the world isn’t perfect! You’re no better.”
Frankie locked his jaw, staring hard. “Yes, I am.”
When Santi closed in on him, Frankie braced for impact. Instead, when their bodies were crowded together, Santi simply opened the door. Ben sat there ont he floor, legs pulled up to his chest like a child whose parents were fighting, looking up at the door with wide blue eyes.
“You hear all that, Benny?”
Ben blinked, “Yeah.” He stands up, his long legs wobbly.
“Ben…” Frankie wanted to say he didn’t mean it, they were all fucked… but Rey’s blood still covered him. It was an odd sight on a boy who looked so young and innocent when he really wanted too. Or needed to.
Terror filled him, afraid Santi was going to hurt Benny, and despite just watching him kill a man in cold blood Frankie felt the need to protect him. He looked so much like that young underweight half-frozen boy in Will’s arms so many years ago. What happened to them all?
Instead of harming him, Santi beconned him in the room and kissed him so tenderly, Frankie hasn’t seen it since they were teens promising to be different from Beatriz.
Ben made no effort to rebuff. He was taken aback at first of course, this was not the response they were expecting from him. He locked eyes with Frankie as Santi deepened the kiss, and narrows his eyes at his lover. Ben does not take kindly to being insulted. Arms snake around Santi’s middle, Ben grinding his cock against Santi’s stomach, moaning into his mouth. Frankie heard drops of blood drip from his arm into the wood floor. He needed to wrap it up. Instead, Santi told Frankie to get in the chair.
*
It took everything in Santi to not watch Frankie watching them. To not see his face as he slid inside Ben’s asshole, to not see how much it pissed him off when he made the younger man moan as he sucked on a nipple. He didn’t need to look, however, because he knew, he knew just how badly it was angering Frankie, how it hurt him. Santi fucked Ben the way he knew Frankie liked, slow and tender, lots of kisses. He knew Frankie longed for those soft days so long ago, teenagers sneaking around, falling in love in closets and up in trees. Before Madonna came and fucked everything up.
That’s why they were made for each other. Raised together, brothers, as close and two people could get. From the craddle to the grave, Francisco Morales belonged to him. They were meant to be, their bodies were created by Beatriz to fit together, to bring each other pleasure. Frankie was his eve, the mother, the god of nature and fertility and-WHY COULDNT HE GET PREGNANT?!??!? None of this would have happened if Mother God had allowed them this, if he could fill his lover with his hot seed and create the savior Santiago couldn’t be. They could birth the savior together, Mary and Joseph, Frankie as the Madonna instead of that cunt causing all the problems.
Santi was sure not to harm Ben, opening him up slowly as the boy moaned like a slut with his asshole clenching on Santi’s tongue, fingers poking their way inside in contrast to the way he liked to ram into Frankies cunt.
Ben was so tender, so sensitive, his cockhead beat red and slick with precum as Santi slid his thumb around it. He repeatedly pulled back the skin, making Ben moan in wonton madness. He gave Ben the gentle love making he knew his Frank desired, the kind of soft touches Santi hadn’t been giving lately. No, ever since Madonna came he was ravenous. He didn’t like watching anyone inside Frankie, making exceptions on occasion for Will and Ben because he thought he could trust them.
Despite not being threatened or even ordered to watch, when Santiago turned to the chair he saw Frankie watching. santi knew Frankie liked to be watched, liked to be heard, so he wondered how being put as the watcher affected him. Frankie’s face was set into a hard glare, eyes red and burning with tears and his knuckles going white with clenched fists.
Still, his cock was hard in his pants.
*
You cried. And cried. And cried.
Hysterics paused only long enough for Will to occasionally get some water in you as he held you close. It had been hours at this point, unsure what is happening to Francisco, what was happening to Iris, what would happen to Rey’s body.
Dead. He was dead. Your best friend was dead, Jonah was dead and Iris hated you. Everything was over now. You hold your stomach, realizing how disconnected you were from this baby in you. At month 7, there was a whole child and yet you felt like… like it was in you, not a part of you. There, not connected. You loved the baby, of course you did, you were its mom but… why didn’t you feel like it? Lately, you’d felt like you were just… here to do a job.
Eventually you calmed down, exhausted from the hysterics, and Will held you close to his chest. He calmed you down slowly, gentle hands brushing over your body. You could not fathom how the hands you’ve felt healing your body were the same as the fist that beat Jonah to death.
“Will?” You ask, listening to the beat of his heart. It was strong.
“Yes, my Madonna?”
“What happens now?” You couldn’t tell if he was pausing to think or in confusion, so you elaborate. “Jonah is dead. Rey is dead. I can never see Santi and Ben the same again-”
He sat up a bit to look at you. “You forgave Santi?”
Was Will really this naive? Really? Santiago had violently raped you, allowed your pregnant body to be burned and Will thought you forgave him? You and your baby could have died, and he thought you forgave him? Will was who you trusted. No matter what happened, you’d always trusted your Will, your smart handsome brave husband, your God of War and Medicine, your protection and your healing.
You can hear Jonah’s voice in your head, begging you to have a shred of survival instinct, to trust your gut.
For the first time, you lie to him.
“I did…” You fib, just a little. “It’s just been a lot lately and… he did something bad. I just can’t forget all of that.”
He nods in understanding. “I get it… I do.” His fingertips trail over your scarred skin. “To answer your question… I don’t know. I really don’t but… we’re married, we all love you and I know, I know Ben messed up today…”
Messed up? Ben killed your Rey, an innocent man. Your friend. Frankie’s friend. Dead and cut up on the kitchen floor where Iris, for all you know, is still sobbing.
You feel the walls coming up around Will.
He continues. “But we’ll find a way to move on as a family.”
You were not a family with these people.
“Yeah, yeah okay.”
*
Iris fell asleep on the floor, durk curls caking in blood as she rested on her lover's stabbed-open chest. It didn't matter. She wasn’t going to get up.
They won. Those fuckers won.
Santiago had beaten her into submission, cutting up parts of her she’d never had the chance to show Reyansh.
Ben raped her for years and years and year and Iris managed to hold on because she had Reyansh and to a certain extent Jonah. Jonah was disappointing, Jonah’s shortcomings were clear and she would never forgive what he tried to do to that poor girl, whatever it was, but the day he died she lost one more person.
But Iris wouldn’t clean up Reyansh’s blood the way she had to Jonah’s. She’d die here in his arms. If Ben wanted to touch her again, he could fuck her dead, rotting corpse. Iris doubted Ben would let anything as simple as death set her free.
*
When she woke up, she was being pulled away from Rey’s dead body. Iris screamed, but that didn’t matter to anyone anymore. Another few guards start pulling Rey’s body away, congealed blood dragging out from under him, and that’s when Iris started fighting. They couldn’t take him. They couldn’t have him. He was hers.
“I’m sorry.” The guard behind her said. Scott, a nice, naive young man. Many guards were loyal to Santi above all else, but Will held the most control. Still, Rey was well liked. With the exception of those who were hardcore true believers amongst the guard who knew Santi’s recent turn on Reyansh, Iris had no doubt they were, actually sorry. It didn’t change the fact she was being separated from her lover even in death.
*
“Just do what he says” Frankie tells Iris, hands planted firmly on her shoulders, eyes intently boring into hers. “He’s gonna fucking kill me for coming down here but Iris, you have to just do it.”
Her eyes burned with tears of anger as she stood near the door to the backyard, underneath the balcony. “What’s happening, Frankie.”
He closed his eyes a moment as he heard the door unlocking. “I can’t lose you too, Iris. Please. I need you with me. I don’t have Jonah, I don’t have Rey-”
“I don’t either!” Iris spat. “What makes you think I want to live after watching that?” It had been hours since she watched her rapist stab her Rey to death, powerless as Frankie held her back. Ben would have killed her too. Should have.
“I need help! I can’t keep her alive alone, Iris! We have to be a team, for each other, for Madonna, for our ch-”
The door opened, Will bringing Madonna down with a guard. You looked awful. He hadn’t seen you since Will took you away, dealing with Santi’s shit… Blood was still on your nightgown.
“Madonna…” Frankie was no longer pleaded with Iris, went to hug his wife. Will instructed the guard not to harm Madonna in the slightest, and Iris appreciated Frankie’s addendum not to hurt her either, but Iris knew she was a second thought.
“Francisco, what’s happening?” Your hands pressed to his chest, looking up at him.
Frankie told you the same thing he told her, to just do as we’re told and it would be okay. Iris had a sick, sick feeling. “Trust me.” He said, hugging her. He looked at Iris. “Please.” Then made his exit with Will. Iris heard crowds outside, and wondered what sick, perverted show Santi was going to make you do now? Would he make you hurt her? That was fine by Iris.
You turned to her, those scared eyes chipping away at the ice in her heart. Iris knew you didn’t mean to get Rey killed, and blaming you for Jonah’s death was unfair and cruel… but she needed to be angry.
“Iris…” You whimper, wet eyes trickling tears down your pretty face. You held your stomach in fear.
When the door opens, you and Iris are quickly ushered out into the courtyard where hundreds of people looked on. Taking in the scene, Iris heard your heavy breathing. What she didn’t need, was you having a panic attack… When she turned to see your horror stricken face, Iris couldn’t help feel that ice melt a little more. Fuck, you were young. 23, just a child. You deserved better. Iris took your hand.
But you were looking past her. “Iris…” You said with wide eyes. Iris turned around.
On the courtyard, Rey’s body was tied to an X on top of a funeral pyre, strung up and limp and lifeless. She felt sick to her stomach, turning up towards where the four wanna be gods sat upon their ivory tower, daring to look upon her love. She couldn’t read their expressions, but watched as someone lit the pyre. Reyansh’s body went up in flames.
Santiago spoke not to them, but to the crowd. “Reyash Saha is guilty of high treason! As is custom, those closest must dance as he burns. Not even the Madonna is above the will of Divine Mother.”
He emphasized those last words, Iris knew, to put you in your place. You weren’t a goddess to him, you weren’t his mommy dearest. You were a womb.
The music started up.
“DAAAANCE!!!!” He screamed down to you both, and as the smell of burnt flesh filled the yard, you began to dance. It was scared, it was erratic, it was for your life and the life of your child. Iris understood that fear. But she wasn’t going to dance. It’s been a while since the last public burning, 2 years, she thinks, but she’d been at plenty, danced in several. This is not how it was done.
Firstly, this was supposed to be execution. You didn’t burn dead bodies. If a traitor was dead already, the close family and friends were questioned but there was no grand show.
If this were a proper burning, there was a ceremony, there were prayers to Divine Mother, chants.
The yard would be filled with everyone the traitor knew. Most of the guardsmen would be here for Reyansh, the house laborers, townsfolk… not just trying to terrifying to women. If the Madonna isn’t above it, Francisco shouldn’t be either.
No, this was just a show for the girl.
“Iris!” You grab onto her. “You need to dance!” Your words were broken and desperte, but Iris shrugged you off. “PLEASE!” You sob, grabbing her hands to force her but Iris shoved you back.
“I WON”T BE MADE TO DANCE AS MY HUSBAND BURNS!”
“But-” You reach for her, but she slaps your hand away. If the guard cared about the abuse of the Madonna, they didn’t care. The music was too loud to hear even shouting.
“Tell me, is there anything in the world that could convince you to dance as Frankie burned?” The image horrified you, but you remained resolute.
“My baby! Please I know you can’t understand but I need you, I can’t lose anyone else- IRIS PLEASE JUST DANCE!” You scream, pulling on her.
Iris grabbed your shoulders, stopping you. “I’m pregnant too.”
You were frozen in stunned silence. “You… Rey…”
But Iris shakes her head. “I never had sex with him. Ben fucked everyone under the sun and I didn’t wanna chance giving him anything… But I told him, I broke down and told him… he’d figured it out.” Iris feels the tears coming, but forces them down. Don’t let them see you cry. Hadn’t she told you that before? “Rey said… said he’d raise it as his own. That he’d take me away and now he’s dead. And those men up there-” She pointed to the balcony. “Are why. I won’t tell you what to do, because you have your own child to think of, you are much further along, but me?” She pointed to her chest covered in Rey’s blood. “I refuse to give them anymore satisfaction. They cannot take my dignity. I simply won’t let them.”
*
Santiago watched from the balcony, smug as Madonna started dancing. Jesus she was pathetic. He expected Iris to not dance, giving him a reason to kill the brat finally. Maybe he’d take her for a little spin to see what Benny was so gunho about. But Madonna? Weak little thing like that had been trying to play big girl recently, acting tough, testing her boundaries like a fucking teenager and thinking her status protected her. It didn’t. But look at her now, dancing around as her best and probably only friend burned, just like she did, just like her paintings, just like her dad.
It was amusing watching you try to save Iris. Your empathy was something that he was attracted to. You were sweet, he liked watching you paint. If you had behaved, he could have lived a whole life with you here with him, his Madonna, raising the savior for his roll… But no, you had to have a temper tantrum. You had to whore around as if 4 cocks weren’t enough. And yet, when it came time to really be brave…. You were like a little puppet on a string and he could toy with you as much as he-
What were you doing?
“Santi…” Francisco tried to sooth as Santi’s knuckles turned white, gripping the balcony with a force as the sound of the music swelled around him. You stopped. Iris put her stupid fucking hands on you the way she put her stupid fucking hands on Ben’s body and tainted you. He watched with rage building inside. She was standing too fucking close.
“Will.” Santi barked, not taking his eyes off you two. Will was the most observant. Frankie could be naive and Ben wasn’t paying attention to most things. “Are they fucking?”
He swore he heard Will sigh. “No, Santi. Jesus fucking christ.”
Then they were conspiring against him. The two girls stilled completely. And then they turned around, looking up at him.
Santiago looked right back. They were fucking dead.
Okay!!! were so close to the end! I think it flashback chapter, then the finale might have to be split lololol.
Not a super eventful chapter, but I thought things needed to breathe before the last pieces. Still, I think enough is here to entertain!!
Thank you to everyone who has stuck through all the hiatuses. Ily!!!
If anyone is interested, I just finished my finale of Blessed Be the Fruit which took over a year for a short series. sorry ;-;
anyway its done!
Love you all soooooo much!
If you like Logan Howlett, check out my new series Be Quiet
Poll time!
LOVE YOU ALL!
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