#me? write everyone BUT martin>

[too-young-to-fall-in-love]

A Letter From Moscow

summary:

He’s apologized a hundred times in a hundred ways, but now it’s time for Napoleon to hear what he has to say. Or, some of chapter 11 of Love is a Losing Game, but from Illya’s perspective.

notes:

inspired by Love is a Losing Game by @cha-melodius

tags:

Reunions, Alternate Universe, 60s Chess AU, Mutual Pining, Confessions, POV Illya Kuryakin, the happy ending to don't you try and make some fool of me, inspired by another fic

excerpt:

He thinks he might actually be hallucinating, that maybe the exhaustion has finally gotten to him, when he sees Napoleon standing outside the bar. He’s on his feet almost before he’s aware he’d moved. Their eyes meet and his heart drops to his stomach at the unfettered pain swimming in Napoleon’s eyes. He’s no idea how he can make it out from this distance, and it makes him sick to see it. The bell chimes cheerily, announcing Napoleon’s presence with the sort of store-bought joy that neither of them feels. It seems almost mocking, as though the universe knows that Illya’s about to lay his naked heart at Napoleon’s feet and watch it get trampled.

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[reisspieces]

ok enough. we need good football again. bring back Arsenal

[vastpotato]

One of my favorite things is that when ppl are writing a time fix for tma and Jon goes far enough back to be a kid again-

1st off, it’s always after A Guest for Mister Spider (so doomed from the start and we love that)

But the Very First Thing they ever do is: A, make Jon and Gerry be best friends (and I’m so here for it) and B, also make Mary Keay disappear in some way so she’s not involved with Gerry anymore (some of them are so funny for no reason. Like yes suffer queen)

Then Micheal Shelly is always saved in some way, some save him entirely so no distortion, or they make it so Micheal is in control of distortion but now just a little bit more spirally and I honestly can’t get enough of it.

But if it’s just a normal time fix and Jon goes back to season one (gonna say w/o Martin) the very first thing that happens is always that Jon immediately is just nice to Martin and un-assholafies himself (and it’s normally the funniest thing)

But I feel like that says a lot about this fandom and I fucking love it here

[angst-is-love-angst-is-life]

Hey! Something nice about writing anything for Coex again. fucking hell I can’t escape is that I can always— 100% of the time— erase Stein’s death!

[just-an-enby-lemon]

I think a lot about how badly the "I lied on my CV" scene would go with Archivist Sasha. A LOT. Now this is based on some things:

a) The paranoia

• A lot of Archivist Sasha AUs act as if she would be imune to the paranoia arc and here is why I disagree:

1. By being the Archivist and feeding the eye you are automatically dealing with an extended feeling of being watched all the time. Not to mention the Eye is literally a paranoia entity (between it's other areas).

2. While Sasha doesn't appear to have Jon's trust issues she has a need to know at least equal to him and a tendency of theorizing. She was of course right when assuming Gertrude kept the archieves messy on purpose but that also shows that between being very smart she is very doubtifull of any behavior outside the person's normal.

3. In that same conversation ahe mentions how everyone has a mask and says to Tim, likely her best friend, that he is as honest to her as he is to Jon it is just different masks. She is fine with this. She is okay with the masks. But that is before things go wrong.

4. She KNEW Gertrude. That means solving her murder is more personal.

b) Sasha knows her shit way to well

• This one is the real fascinsting thing: Sasha is a master in figuring out people's secrets and keeping them for herself. She knew from the start Jon lied about his age and that Martin lied on his CV. To the point that for her this knowledge about Martin is a fun fact and irrelevant, a thing she keeps from because she knows he would be anxious if he knew she knows. The thing is that translating to the "I lied in my CV confession" we have:

• Paranoid Sasha found Martin's letter to his mother (likely writen as a diary with no intencion to actually send it) and thinks that Martin lied about Trevor being dead.

• She knows Martin lied on his CV and it's meaningless to her to the point she might suspect he knows she knows.

• She knows Martin has a complicated relationship with his mother and that means she would assume it to be very unlikely he would ever write this personal of a letter to her.

Conclusion:

Sasha would probably think Martin is using the fsct he lied on his CV as a diversion and truly has an awfull secret. She would also likely tell to his face she knows it isn't it because Martin's mum would never read or care about his feelings or letters and Martin should know this enough to not even bother to write "so this is likely a codename".

[mistninja]

Why did we let people call asoiaf grimdark

[therealandian]

right okay now that i've had a minute where i'm not at work, i wrote a little drabble to go along with this:

Elias stopped dead in his tracks, not quite believing what was in front of him. “Wh—Since when did you get here!?” he demanded, pointing an accusatory finger at his best friend, who was meandering down the street like he'd walked it a thousand times. “We weren't anywhere close to Earth when you left—there's no possible way you could have arrived before me!” After standing stunned for a moment, Jon pointed back with a grin on his face and a twinkling glow in his eyes. Admittedly his eyes always looked like that, but that wasn't the point. “That's what you think!” he laughed. “I just happen to be good friends with an eldritch demigod!” He kept pointing, and he kept laughing, and at this point Elias was just a little bit peeved. “You bastard! Why didn't you tell me you wanted to come back here!? I spent thirty years on my own getting here, and that's barely counting the time travel!” Jon laughed harder. “I've been here since 1995!” At that point, Elias could feel himself beginning to tremble from rage, but he kept it together. Mostly. “This could've been significantly easier for both of us if you'd just told me!”

Jon was laughing too hard to speak. A tear slid down his cheek, followed quickly by another. To make matters worse, he was still pointing at Elias like he couldn't quite believe what was happening. Admittedly Elias was also still pointing, but he wasn't having nearly as much fun. He wished he was—it looked, well, fun! As if things couldn't get more confusing, another figure appeared from nowhere and froze as the light of teleportation faded around him. “Uh…,” said Martin Blackwood. Jon didn't notice; he was busy still. Elias did, of course, and a spike of dread stabbed him in the chest. “Uh…,” he echoed. As if pulled by some unseen force, Martin raised both his hands, one pointing at Jon, and one pointing at Elias. He glanced back and forth between the two as if he couldn't quite wrap his head around what he was looking at. His jaw flapped, but no words came out. Jon clutched his stomach and squeezed his eyes shut, not quite stopping the laughter, but at least getting it down to an uncontrollable giggle. He wiped away the tears. “You should've seen the look on your face!” he cried. Elias finally figured out how to lower his hand and stop pointing at his absurd comrade. “Erm…Jon?” “Yeah, yeah,” he breathed, waving a dismissive hand. “Give me a minute.” Meanwhile, Martin finally figured out how to make his mouth work, and spoke. “What the fuck did I just teleport into!?” Jon peeked up at him, grin widening once more as he wiped the tears off his cheeks. “Oh, hello, Martin! Fancy seeing you here!”

:P

i just want to end this off by saying something important to me: as of 5 days from now (may 29th), redeath will be turning 4 years old which is just. UTTERLY wild to me.

when i first started writing that thing i did NOT expect i'd still be working on it this much later. and the fact that i started on stts in late summer of '21 is just. wow this au has gone on for a while. and i still love it to bits! even now with this i'm still finding new fun ways to get them to reunite (thanks @ike9306 for the idea), and it's just. i have no idea how many iterations of the end of this fic i've gone through but i definitely didn't expect where i eventually wound up lol. i still can't believe i thought 50k was a reasonable expectation for stts XD

so i just wanna say thanks--to old fans who've been here from the start and to new ones who literally just found this today. to the people who leave comments on every chapter, those who occasionally drop one on their favorite parts, and to the lurkers i can't see but know are there. i've had an unbelievably fun time playing around with this goofyass concept, and i'm so happy to see other people have enjoyed it too. i don't know that i would've without the overwhelming amount of excited feedback begging for more <3

we've still got a few chapters to go, but i'm hoping yall will find it well worth the time it took us all to get here (looking at the person who read like. all of redeath and all of stts up to that point in one very long session. you know who you are.)

Commission for @therealandian for the fic "Search Through the Stars". Disclaimer, this is not actually what happens! Go check it out.

Thanks for the support!

[kardia-library-official]

Why isn't Evelyn marriageable, and why can't she interpret anything Gaius does as romantic?

Same reason Reinhard insists nobody has ever been attracted to him even though he once had an army of young women waiting on him hand and foot.

Which is... They're just too gay. Opposite gender who? Doesn't even register.

Now, I think Evelyn is well aware of this, and even plays with it from time to time. ("Propose to me!" "Okay!" "Hmm... No.")

Reinhard, on the other hand... He's a sweet summer child. The life he has led so far has not given him much of a chance to think about this stuff at all. Maybe he'll start to get it now that his gear is being made/maintained by a sweaty floppy-haired apprentice blacksmith, but like... Baby steps. :P

[heepthecheep]

Co-opting the idea of the Green Children of Woolpit, but not so much in the "these children are green" kinda way but in a "there's a secret land where the sun never shines, it's always dusk" kinda way

[elodieunderglass]

You posted a while ago about Grant Howitt's RPG There But For The Geese of God, where the players are archangelic geese trying to shepherd Martin de Tours into sainthood by whatever means necessary; you might also be interested in

His RPG Everyone is Seagulls, where the players are a flock of 30 seagulls and you can only communicate by loudly yelling at each other what you want to do, and

Sean Bean Quest, which is a modification of his RPG Goblin Quest in which you play five Seans Bean (in series, not in parallel), trying to ensure that at least one of you survives until the end of the movie.

Thank you so so much for thinking of me. I am hanging this up in my house in a beautiful frame and adjusting it so that it’s beautiful. I am grateful for your friendship and good taste.

I should be honest though. I actually know fuckall about roleplaying games. Absolute black hole of knowledge actually. People kindly and generously sent me the goose one because it’s highly elodie-coded (and you can see why! It’s elodie reblog bait!) and I admired and reblogged accordingly in complete support of the vision. No further thoughts or opinions. HEAD EMPTY. “Haha sounds great!” I say, instantly filing it where I put the isogenic cryptography I had to learn about against my will for work and which I refused to retain in any meaningful way. My brain has simply left the building to pick flowers. “I would enjoy that it’s right up my alley,” I say, eating the bottoms of the grass blades vacantly.

I have exactly three experiences of tabletop roleplaying games ever in my life and i should write a post about them but

- single session of dnd with older guys when I was a teenager

- shepherding children through an interactive storybook in which Bug, 4, simply kept assassinating their older sibling (they were not supposed to be able to do this??)

- playing a small amount of gloomhaven: jaws of the lion, in which I became distracted by hating the whole concept of unpainted ugly gaming miniatures so much that I made my own and then. Wandered off. Apparently forever

Anyway even if it’s wasted on me these are delightful and I’m happy to admire them conceptually and share them and hang them on the wall

[astonmartingf]

GOOD RIDDANCE OP! ; CS55

carlos sainz x aston martin fan!reader . . . after breaking up with your stupid boyfriend your number one idol hooks you up on a date with one of his "sons" which is a driver from the same team your ex boyfriend likes

amgf i'm back to my roots!!! carlos sainz fics 😛 y'know some amgf lore is that carlos was the first driver i knew other than lewis but he's everywhere atp i think everyone knows him and i saw clips of him talking about alonso that i looked him up and saw him and look at me now, insane. maybe this is a little too self indulgent but what can i say, i cater to myself first when writing so... enjoy pwahahahahahaha because i had fun writing this 😋👍

yourusername uploaded a new story

[i might actually pass out, someone call the doctor rq!!!! what is actually happening]

yourusername

liked by astonmartinf1, fernandoalo_oficial, and 26,941 others

yourusername uhm welcome to spa?

view 7,752 comments

user32 yooooo you're in spa what the heck????

user50 if i had tweeted something like that would i have been invited to a race instead?

user38 con 😭 gra 😭 tu 😭 la 😭 tions 😭

user93 imagine breaking up with boyfriend because of fernando alonso and then going to the race with fernando alonso

user05 SLAYYYY BABES!!!!!!

user17 i know exboyf is fuming //////

comment is liked by the user

user48 oh to be invited by your favorite driver 🥹🥹🥹🥹

user72 @/charlesleclerc my ex boyfriend broke up with me because i've been a fan of you can i get tickets to see you 😭🤲🤲

→ charlesleclerc HAHAHAHAHA send the team your details, we'll find a way

user49 not this being a new way to get tickets 😭

user64 trendsetter yn!!! but also deserve because he actually a pos and good riddance to him

comment is liked by user

yourusername uploaded a new story

[i know a spot he says... 10/10 for the tacos but 100/100 for the company <3]

f1wagscentral

f1wagscentral A new wag in the making? Following the viral tweet of a Fernando Alonso fan, YN LN took F1 fans in a storm with her story time about her ex-boyfriend breaking up with her because of the 2-time World Champion.

In recent news a fan tweeted to YN asking for updates about the date set up by her idol, who confirmed that things are indeed going smoothly which delighted the matchmaker, revealing he knew about their plans.

Fans deduct two drivers in the grid who could be a potential partner for YN which are Lando Norris and Carlos Sainz, with YN's instagram account privated, little information is known. Who are you rooting for, team 🌶️ or 🧡?

view 980 comments

yourusername 🔒

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, carlossainz55, and 5 others

yourusername i have a life outside being a fernando alonso fan 🤞

view 25 comments

carlossainz55 i always knew i was the other man in our relationship

→ yourusername i'm glad you know how important fernando alonso is to me ❤️

→ yourusername especially because i hate your team, fuck ferrari thank god you're moving to williams

→ carlossainz55 is that why you haven't soft launched me yet?

→ yourusername you mean hard launch?

→ carlossainz55 WAIT.... is that really the reason???? amor?????

→ yourusername i'm joking stop spamming my messages, wth

→ carlossainz55 don't joke with me amor

→ yourusername it may or may not be the reason.....

→ carlossainz55 how could i have missed it 🙄 not surprised, we both know how much you hate ferrari, nonetheless glad you took the chance

→ yourusername and if i told you i dated you to make my ex boyfriend jealous?

→ carlossainz55 well you love me don't you?

→ yourusername i think that's entry level babes, ofc i love you so much 😘

→ carlossainz55 i'm sure your love is enough to make him jealous, his loss and a win for me 😛

→ yourusername wow you're so cute, come home faster now 😠

→ carlossainz55 aye aye boss 🫡

→ yourusername we can watch fernando alonso clips right?

→ carlossainz55 whatever you want amor 😘

[viennakarma]

Something you paid for

Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: Two years into the best relationship of your life, you find out that Fernando thinks you don't love him. But it get worse and you realize the whole world think of you as gold digger.

Word count: 5.7k

Tags: female!reader, established relationship, slut shaming, reader is confused, fernando is even more confused, miscommunication, cursing, a bit angsty, hurt/comfort, soft smut (almost not there), happy ending, not beta read

Relationship: Fernando Alonso x Reader

Note: I'm honestly not 100% sure about this story, a had another ending planned but I wanted it to be HEA. I don't know. :(

I'm sorry if it's rushed or full of mistakes. Feedback and opinions are appreciated xx

Find me on Twitter!

It was supposed to be just a pause in your studies. Something quick since your brain was already mushy from studying and writing your research for too long.

So when you picked up your phone, to aimlessly scroll through social media, you didn’t expect to see a new, sudden rush of comments on your instagram page. There were thousands of comments in your last post, calling you a gold digger, and much, much worse. Ever since you started dating Fernando, you had been getting these comments, and in the beginning they were worse but slowed down with time. Now they were on a new high again. Confused more than anything, you went on to try and find out what happened for this to happen all of a sudden. You and Fernando hadn’t gone out together for more than two weeks and you hadn’t been to a race week for a month.

After digging you eventually found out what happened. Deuxmoi posted something that made everyone quickly think it was you.

A lady who’s 12 years younger than her famous Spanish Formula One driver boyfriend, is known for being with him for his money. Many tried to warn him, but it seems like he doesn’t believe or doesn’t care.

Confused, you stared at the post, scrolling through hundreds of nasty, poisonous comments. That wasn’t true. Fernando did give you lots of presents and spoiled you a lot but he did this out of his own want, not because you asked for or demanded it. He was constantly giving you things, especially clothes, shoes and bags, and loved seeing you wearing them. He also gave you an Aston Martin car on your last birthday. He even went as far as getting you a credit card attached to his, for whenever you needed to buy books or go on a shopping spree. You never minded it because you knew he liked it, instead of refusing you were just grateful for his generosity.

You wondered if you should talk about it with him, but deep down you knew Fernando was never one to care for gossip of any kind. And this probably wasn’t even true to begin with, just someone trying to stir the pot. So you just limited the comments in your posts and went on about your day.

A week later you went to the race, it was Silverstone, and the last before summer break. You decided to dress your best, wearing clothes that were pretty and elegant and had been given to you by Fernando.

He always treated you like a princess, he was kind and patient, and always found a way to align your schedules to spend time together. He liked taking you on trips during summer break and to ski trips during winter break. Fernando adored having you around in race weeks, you could see in his face that he was radiant with your presence. And you loved all the gifts and the trips but you especially loved staying home with him, lazing around, making love on the sofa and taking walks hand in hand in his hometown. You loved helping him cook, trying your best to follow his orders and not mess up his recipes. 

You walked into the paddock hand in hand, and you kept him company whenever you could. He would keep you around the most, only letting you go when he had meetings or media duties. During that time, you would go back to his room and do a little more of your research, writing your thesis.

You left his room so you could grab a snack and a coffee at the hospitality, but as you passed by a hallway, you heard someone saying your name in conversation. You stopped, leaning against the wall to hear, with a glance, you saw two mechanics talking.

“Seems like everyone tried to warn him, man. But it’s like he doesn’t mind dating a gold digger.”

“Is she a gold digger, really?”

“Man, she doesn’t do anything! She doesn't even work.”

“Has anyone warned Fernando?”

“Everyone.”

You went back inside his driver’s room, sitting down, completely shocked. So that’s what people thought of you? You knew people on the internet talked about it, but they were strangers so you wouldn’t allow yourself to mind because those people didn’t know you. But the people in the garage? They’ve known you for almost two years now, you were always kind and polite to them, even going as far as bringing them cookies and donuts as thank you for welcoming you so well.

You avoided crying, it would ruin your makeup, and Fernando would notice it very quickly. So you just sat there, numb. Thinking about how everyone believed you were with Fernando because of his money and nothing else.

When Fernando found you again, before he had to go get ready for the race, he noticed you were a little down.

“You should not study so hard on the weekends, princesa.” He muttered, hugging you from behind and leaving a gentle kiss to your neck. Of course, he would think you were just tired.

“You are absolutely right, mi amor,” you smiled a little, turning around so you could hug him properly, “do you have time for a little kiss?”

“Even two,” he joked.

You ended up sitting on his lap, making out like two teenagers, until someone knocked on the door, calling Fernando to go get ready.

“Hey, good luck, yeah?” You said, kissing him one more time then kissing the back of his hand, “I love you.”

You watched the race from the garage, feeling self conscious now that it seemed like everyone thought you were leeching off of Fernando.

In the end, Fernando got P3 which was a great result and you celebrated wildly, proudly watching him get on the podium.

After his post race meetings, you met him in his room.

“Let’s go out to celebrate! Dinner is on me!” You hugged him, mood better now than before.

You and him ended up going out for dinner, at a high end restaurant, dressed to the nines. It was fun, you listened to Fernando talking about the race, then he asked you what you thought about the race.

Before dessert, you went into the bathroom to retouch your makeup and freshen up. When you came back, your tiramisu was already there. You and Fernando shared the dessert, laughing to each other.

When the waitress came, you picked the opportunity.

“Dear, can we get the tab please?”

“It’s already taken care of, Madam.”

Your smile faltered, and you looked at Fernando as she left. He was smiling like he couldn’t hold it in.

“Fernando! I said dinner was on me!”

“Why would I let you pay, princesa?”

“Because you got a podium today! As a celebration!” You whined, upset. Fernando pulled your chair, until you were right beside him and he kissed your cheek.

“I like paying for you, Hermosa,” Fernando stood up, offering you a hand, “come on, you can treat me right in our hotel room, what about that?”

You smiled as he pulled you away, but something still nagged at your brain.

You and Fernando took the private plane back to Madrid after the date, because he had sponsor meetings over the week, and you honestly wanted to sleep in your bed. The trip was quick, and while Fernando took a nap, you tried studying, but your mind kept going back to being called a gold digger.

Deep down, you really wanted to talk to Fernando about it, but you were unsure if he could fix this in any way. What could he do? Make a post on instagram saying hey, my girlfriend isn’t leeching off of me as most you think!? You did live with Fernando, for six months now, and he paid all the bills and the house was his. But he also gave you many many gifts.

When you got home, putting your bags inside the closet, you two just changed into sleepwear, ready to doze off.

Then Fernando opened his bag and grabbed a small box.

“Oh, I had forgotten! Got you a present last week in Austria!”

He handed you the box, and with your heart beating fast, you opened it to a beautiful vintage watch. It was gold, delicate with a beautiful bracelet. There was a lump in your throat as you stared at the piece.

“You didn’t like it? It’s ok, princesa, I’ll get you another one,” he said, with a gentle smile.

“I don’t need another watch, Nando. You gave me this one not even a month ago,” you raised your wrist, showing him the brand new one he gave you.

“I want to give it to you. It doesn’t matter,” he shrugged.

“And I don’t want it,” god, you didn’t want to sound so ungrateful, but how could you tell him that his presents felt like something else now? “You have to stop giving me so many presents,” you said, trying to put into words what you were feeling.

“But that’s how I won you over, why would you refuse my presents now?”

Something about the nonchalance in his voice made you stop, stomach dropping. That’s how I won you over? That’s how he believed your relationship came to be? That’s why he thought you were together?

“What did you say?” You paused, suddenly turning to him, it felt like a punch to the throat, “You- you believe I’m a gold digger? You believe it?”

Fernando walked up to you, putting both hands on your waist, a soft smile gracing his face.

“Amor, you know I don’t mind spending my money on you. Quite the opposite, I love to spoil you.”

You stood there, speechless for a couple of seconds. Then you snapped out of it, pushing his hands off you.

“That’s not what I asked!” Your voice sounded louder, you tried to regain your composure, “people talk a lot, the press too, but you know the truth, right?!”

“I’m a rich man, I like providing you with the luxurious lifestyle you lead. I don’t care that you enjoy my money.”

His words made it so much worse. It made you nauseous, the idea that all this time, he’s been thinking of you as a gold digger, as someone who’s only with him for his money and for what he could provide for you.

“No, Fernando- no!” Your voice wavered, “that’s not true! I love you, you know that right?”

“Why are you so caught up in some silly rumor?

“You know right? You know I love you.” You pressed further waiting for an answer. Hoping against hope that he knew it deep down, that he could acknowledge that you harbored love for him.

“Amor, we have such a great dynamic like this. I don’t need your love, just your loyalty and for you to be my pretty girl.”

He was so calm and reassuring, like he had made peace with the fact that you didn’t love him. Like he wasn’t bothered at all by the fact that you were supposedly a gold digger. His dismissal broke something inside you.

“So you don’t- you don’t believe I love you?”

You felt pathetic and helpless, repeating the same words again and again, hoping and praying for a different answer from Fernando.

“Come on, I’m really tired, can we go to sleep?

“Fernando.”

“I’m going to wait for you in bed,” was all he said, dismissing you completely.

You walked out of the room at the same time he went into the bathroom, you held your head up until you softly closed the door behind you, then finally the tears spilled. You went to the bathroom downstairs, the farthest you could go away from him as the sobs broke from your throat violently.

Sliding down on the floor you wondered if everything was lie. You knew it wasn’t but the fact that he thought you were only there for the money was completely wrong. How long had he been thinking that? How many times had he heard you say “I love you” and thought it wasn’t true? You didn’t even know what to do or what to feel. How could you feel if this whole time while you were pouring your heart into this relationship he thought you were just leeching off of him? How can you love someone so deeply and still live with the fact they think of you as a freeloader? Did he joke with his friends like yeah, she’s a gold digger but at least she’s loyal and fucks me well? 

Your chest hurt and you felt repulsive, making your way to the living room, opening a bottle of his whiskey, not bothering with a glass, just sipping it straight from the bottle.

What could you do now? Talk to him? Tell him you’re not with him for his money? After two whole years accepting his every gift with open arms? After getting a fortune worth of presents? After letting him pay for your books, textbooks, new laptop? After letting him pay for dates, trips, clothes, accessories, shoes and jewelry?

You hated yourself for it now. For taking it just because you thought it was his love language, not because deep down he was trying to keep you, buying your affection.

After spending the whole night awake, nursing a bottle and with only your repulsive thoughts as company, you watched as the sun rose from the big living room window.

It was time to fix it.

Fernando was an early riser almost every morning, so after the sun fully rose in the sky, you went in the kitchen and prepared coffee, to cut the effect of the alcohol. You weren’t drunk, really.

“Morning, bebé! You woke up earlier than me today?” He said, passing you with a kiss to your cheek, then going to the cabinet for a mug. He was so unbothered by your argument last night it was pissing you off.

“I didn’t sleep.”

He paused, looking at your face.

“We should talk.” You readied yourself. Fernando stopped in front of you, attentive. “I’ve been hearing a lot this past week that I’m a gold digger, this has been making me feel some kind of way, and I wanted to address this with you. Last night you were tired and we probably misunderstood each other…”

“Where are you going with this, corazón?” He asked, confused.

“I’m not with you for your money, Fernando. Do you understand that?”

He stood silent, which only made you feel worse.

“I want you to stop giving me presents without a proper occasion. And I want you to stop paying stuff for me. And we’re going to share house bills.” You laid it all out, after thinking hard all throughout the night.

“What are you talking about? No, I don’t accept it.” He frowned, “that wasn’t the deal when we moved in together.”

“Because I didn’t know everything back then. I don’t want to feel like I’m taking advantage of you, and I don’t live at your cost like this.”

“No, Y/N.” He took a step back, shaking his head as if you had said the most stupid thing he had ever heard.

“I’m serious, Fernando.”

“No, I’m not negotiating this. I pay for everything. That’s how it’s been and that’s how it will be.”

“I just want to show you that I’m not with you for the money! I’m not what they’re calling me! No more presents, Fernando.”

“You took them.”

“Because I thought you wanted me to have them!”

“I wanted you to have them so you would want to stay with me!”

You gasped, hearing it from his mouth finally. The tears finally started flowing, and you swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady even with the tempest happening inside your chest, staining the beautiful story of your relationship. Well, what you thought was a beautiful relationship.

“You’re just like them, right?” You said, defeated, “you think of me as a gold digging whore. You probably never defended me when they called me that.”

“I gave you all this stuff because I didn’t want you to leave!”

“It was never about the fucking money! And guess what? You lost me anyway!” You marched to the bedroom, Fernando hot on your heels.

“Don’t. Don’t leave.” He said, following you. “I did everything for you to never leave!”

“Everything but loving me! I don’t fucking care!” You unlatched your necklace, putting it on the table, “I don’t care about your money and the jewelry and the clothes and the bags!” You put down your watch and earrings too. Everything he had given you not because he wanted you or loved you, but because he thought they were the price to pay to keep you around.

“Fuck, I love you!” You shouted, feeling desperate and lost, “And all you see me as is something you paid for. A toy you can parade around and look pretty in your arm! You don’t even love me, Fernando. I could write a list about everything I love about you, and none of it would be your stupid money!”

In the closet, you picked a bag, and started putting your clothes inside. Then you noticed how most of them were gifts from him. So you put it back, taking only what you had bought yourself. Fernando stood there, helpless as you packed, putting clothes and a few shoes in a couple of baggage. You also took your study material and laptop, which he had gifted you, but you knew you’d refund him.

“Stop, no,” Fernando tried to stop you as went into the garage, “I do, I love you.”

“You don’t, Fernando. You’re not even sure of that.” You shook your head, putting the bags inside the car. The Aston Martin he had given you, “you have to think. If you really love me as you say, then why do you love me? Because I’m eye candy you can take to galas? Because I’m a good fuck? Because I stand there and look pretty when you have to kiss those old men’s asses?”

You didn’t give him a second, getting in the car and starting the engine.

“This is so messed up, oh my god, how could I let myself believe this for two entire years?” You whispered to yourself, accelerating the car and driving off. 

Through the rear view, you could see Fernando standing there, doing nothing.

You drove and wiped the tears away, breathing in. When you moved in with Fernando, you hadn’t been able to get out of the lease of your flat because you still had a few months on your renting contract. Now it felt like luck that you had a place to stay. Despite getting your doctorate degree, you didn’t have any friends in the city, only a few acquaintances here and there.

You got to the apartament, not bothering to unpack your bags, only leaving it on the bedroom floor. You took your study material and with your phone in hand, you sent Fernando via transfer a total 4000 euros, for what you hoped covered the “laptop and books expenses” as you wrote in the little note.

Then you laid on the bed, crying yourself to sleep.

You woke up and it was getting dark, the sun setting outside. Checking your phone, there were fourteen missed calls from Fernando, and a notification, showing that he had returned the money to you, with additional 30000 euros and only “no” written on the little note. Huffing, you sent the whole amount back and blocked him, so he couldn’t transfer any more money to you.

He still had not realized what was wrong, he was still thinking money was your motivation.

The next few days felt like a haze, you were barely getting any sleep, only eating and writing your research, which ultimately reminded you of Fernando, since it was a study on aerodynamics. You couldn’t lie to yourself, thinking of how many times you stared at the door, waiting and hoping he would understand and come after you.

-

Fernando had work commitments in England, and going back to Madrid, he ended up giving George and his girlfriend a lift. Fernando was visibly not himself as soon as George saw him.

“How’s Y/N doing?” George asked, casually. But from the way Fernando’s face dropped, he could tell something was wrong, “trouble with the missus?” He joked, tried to lighten the mood.

“She- uh, she left.” Fernando muttered.

“What do you mean, she left?” Carmen joined the conversation, “She’s traveling?”

“No- no- I guess we broke up.”

“You guess?!” George’s voice went a little high pitched out of nervousness.

“Fernando, what happened?” Carmen tried to understand. 

Despite not being exactly best friends, you and her were pretty close, always spending time together whenever both of you were on race weekends. The fact that you’re both engaged academics was also a common topic between you.

“You know about the rumors, right?” Fernando started, hesitating.

“What rumors?” George paused.

“That she’s only with me for the money,” Fernando muttered.

“All girlfriends of drivers are accused of that at some point, what’s new?” George pushed.

“I might have implied that I agree with that.”

“Oh, my god,” Carmen covered her mouth, absolutely shocked, “What?”

“Fernando, respectfully- Are you fucking insane?!” George exclaimed, jaw slack, “she looks at you all lovey-dovey, like- like- you’re the only person in the entire earth and you think she’s with you for the money?”

“She would never be like that! She’s so smart and kind,” Carmen added.

“I know- I just- I don’t know! Maybe I let the rumors get to my head!” he ran both hands over his face, exasperated, “And she always lets me pay, and she always takes the presents, I don’t know!”

Then, Fernando explained about how you tried to pay for dinner, and you refused his gift, he told them about the argument and how you wanted to set boundaries about money and gifts.

“She was trying to prove to you that she’s not a freeloader. She was trying to show that the money didn’t matter, and what did you do? You pushed more money on her!” George practically spat the words in Fernando’s face.

“Eres muy estúpido, Fernando. Te lo digo como tu amiga.” Carmen muttered.

“I don’t know what she said but I heard the word stupid, and I agree.” George backed her up, “Go talk to her, apologize and fix it.”

“That is,” Carmen interrupted, face serious, “If you really love her. Otherwise, better let her go find someone who can really love her, it’s what she deserves. Love and happiness.”

Fernando swallowed, his chest constricting with the mere thought of you moving on, of someone else having you in their arms.

Getting back home without you there felt like a thick fog day, cold and empty and he missed you, he missed his sun. He missed you jumping into his arms as soon as he opened the door. He missed the smell of the candles you always lit while studying. He even missed the little mess of textbooks, colorful highlighters and notes scattered around.

Home didn’t feel like home without you.

In the middle of the living room, there were big cardboard boxes, as he opened, he noticed they were full of clothes, shoes and bags he had gifted you throughout your relationship. In a smaller box, all the jewelry he had given you, even anniversary gifts. Even the beauty products he had given you like perfumes, makeup products, and face creams.

You had returned every single thing.

And on the coffee table, your keys to the house and the keys of your Aston Martin DB12.

It seemed like you had returned everything that could tie you to him, everything that made him wrongly call you a gold digger. And it felt painfully like a goodbye.

-

While mixing your homemade coffee, your eyes flicked to the door, then to your phone on the table, facing up. Despite the searing pain in your chest, and the sorrowful hole in your heart, maybe it was time to start to move on. It had been more than a week, if he wanted to come back to you, he would’ve come by now.

You got ready to meet with your advisor, and she brought up a topic that had been common now, about you taking a position as a professor for a couple of Engineering subjects. She said it’d be good for you to work in your area while on the last few months before getting your doctorate degree. You had mostly denied the other times she offered the position, because you wanted more time with Fernando, because you wanted the freedom to fly around the world following him to his races.

Now- now you had more bills to pay and no boyfriend to follow. You also had more free time, a broken heart and a vacant mind. 

“I’m considering the position. I believe it could do me good right now.” You said to her, thoughtful, “can I confirm with you tomorrow?”

After going through the meeting and getting a review on your thesis, you went back to your flat, taking a long shower. You had just dressed in pajamas when the doorbell rang. With long strides, you were faced with Carmen, and not Fernando as you expected.

“From your face I take it he hasn’t spoken to you, yes?” Carmen muttered, seeing the visible disappointment in your face.

“I’m sorry, please come in,” you opened the door wider, forcing a smile. Carmen had a couple of bags that she set on a nearby table.

“He told us what happened, I’m so sorry,” Carmen hugged you and you immediately started crying, since you had no one to talk about the past few days, “I brought chocolates and wine, so we can talk.”

Over chocolates and a bottle of Merlot, you told her everything, starting at the deuxmoi rumor. She looked horrified when you said word for word what had transpired the last time you spoke with him.

“I just don’t understand why he didn’t come talk to you yet,” Carmen added, at some point.

“Because he won’t, at all.” You say with your voice shaky from crying so much the past hour.

“Don’t say that. He loves you.” Carmen said.

“I’m not entirely sure about that,” you shrugged, pretending it didn’t hurt as much as it did, “He’ll find another one, someone who can enjoy his money since it seems like it’s all that matters to him.”

Carmen didn’t say anything to that and you knew she couldn’t argue with the facts. Later, George dropped by to get her, going up to your flat so he could hug you quickly and mutter “I’m sorry”.

With a heavy heart, you slowly rebuild a healthy routine again, doing grocery shopping, cooking meals, going to the gym, studying and everything.

One day, you went back home after going on a shopping spree, and as you got into the hall, Fernando was there, standing in your hall, waiting by the door. You stopped, almost losing the timing to leave the elevator. When you walked closer, he noticed you. Meeting his eyes was different this time, uncertain and a little distant.

“What do you want?” You asked, you hoped your voice would come out harsh, but it only sounded defeated.

“Can we talk?” He asked, and you nodded, opening the door and letting him in.

There was a moment of awkward silence as you put the shopping bags down. After doing that, you crossed your arms and stood against a side table, waiting quietly.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, for not fully believing your love, I guess I was so focused in protecting myself, that I ended up hurting you, and it was never my intention,” Fernando stood just two steps away from you, his eyes holding such pain and fear, that it made you crumble, he didn’t look like he’d been sleeping well, “I love you, I really do. For who you are and nothing else.”

You wanted to give in so bad, you wanted to run into his arms and never let go, but you also didn’t want to suffer again.

“How do you know? You never knew that for two years, how would you know it now?” You shook your head, tears starting to fill your eyes again.

“Because it is hard being without you,” he said, like he was trying to find the right words, “I can’t sleep without you. My life is miserable without you around.”

You only nodded, covering your lips with a hand. You wanted to tell him that you had not gotten proper sleep without him, that your life feels empty, that not knowing about him everyday was painful. But you needed more. You needed something you could hold onto, and maybe, just maybe take another chance at the two of you.

“I- I made a list. Like you said,” his voice failed, and you noticed his hand was shaking a little as he held the paper, “I love you. I love coming home to you every time and feel our house so lived in. I love how you always hug me first thing after I’m back home. I love the silly texts you send me randomly throughout the day talking about your day. I love the selfies with your tongue out too,” that made you two chuckle, and the movement made your tears fall, so you wiped them, staring at him intently, “I love that you’re always the smartest person in any room we’re in. I love that you’re humble, never showing off or being a smartass. I love how cheeky and witty you are. I love that you talk in your sleep. I love that scar in your knee, because it shows you were always a little naughty, even as a kid. I love that there’s always fresh flowers at home. I love that you love kids. I love that you get along well with my family. I love that you-”

He didn’t finish, as you closed the distance and launched yourself at him, hugging him tight. Fernando held you close, pressing you into him, inhaling your perfume, feeling like he was at home again.

“I’m so sorry, princesa. So so sorry. I missed you so much,” he whispered against your cheek, kissing it softly.

“I missed you too, Nando” you said, eyes closed and allowing yourself to just feel him again, “I love you so much.”

You let go, holding his face with both hands, looking into his eyes before kissing him softly. He, on the other hand, held the back of your neck firmly, licking your mouth open, until he had tasted your mouth, leaving you breathless.

“Come back home with me, princesa.”

At that, you took a step back.

“I- I can’t, Nando. I got a new job at the university.”

“What?”

“I thought you weren’t coming back to me,” you muttered, and your words made him wince, “I needed something to hold on to.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” he ran a hand over his face, looking embarrassed for taking so long to come after you.

“I believe we should- we should take a step back, rethink a bit about our dynamic,” you told him, hesitant of his reaction.

“Are you unsure about us?” He asked, visibly worried.

“No, no- I love you- I do-” You started, taking his hand, holding it firmly against yours, “I just think we should rewind a bit. Have my own place and pay my own bills, I just don’t want to feel like that again, I need to regain my dignity in this.”

He kept quiet, because he knew deep down you were right. He felt awful about all the misunderstandings, but he knew you probably felt much, much worse. He should just get on his knees and be thankful you still loved him and still wanted him. He’d take all your conditions to get back with him.

And deep down both of you knew it was for the best. Moving out and living alone, working and seeing him occasionally as a boyfriend. 

Holding your face, he kissed you, leaving little pecks on your lips, your cheeks, your chin, your forehead. You closed your eyes, letting him kiss you, and he muttered how much loved you and how much he missed you, kissing down the side of your neck. He walked you inside and let him, feeling his hands quickly peeling your clothes off, leaving a trail of clothes from the living room to your bedroom.

You parted so you could undress him, pulling at his jacket and the t-shirt.

“I love you, I love you so much,” he mumbled into a kiss, laying you down in bed.

You laid on the bed and he hugged him, making space for him between your legs. He held you, touching your nose with his gently.

“I missed you, princesa,” he kissed your cheek, “I promise I’ll do better from now on.”

“I know you will, baby.” You kissed him again, running your hand down his back, “make love to me now.”

He filled you up at once, and you groaned into his mouth, scratching your nails down his back as you cunt welcomed him. As he fucked into you, slowly at first then picking up pace, he muttered how much he loved you and how sorry he was, over and over.

As you cuddled after, quietly enjoying each other’s company. 

“What do we do about all your gifts?”

“Give them away,” you shrugged.

“Can I convince you to take it back?”

“Not if you still want me in your life,” you muttered. He nodded, placing a gentle kiss on your shoulder.

“You know how I know I love you?” Fernando asked, drawing invisible patterns on your back, “there’s an engagement ring in the third drawer of my bedside table.”

You hesitated for a second, but he knew you well. Better than anyone else.

“I know what you said, I just wanted to let you know. I bought it a week after you moved in with me. I know we’re rewinding a little bit for now, but you’ll be my wife one day.”

“And what if I refuse when you propose?” You smirked, and he pulled your leg over his waist.

“You won’t.”

Note: UGH IDK GUYS :(

[orchidbreezefc]

ok. years have passed and we've had some distance, so i'm finally gonna take the leap of faith that tma fandom is finally ready to hear me on this. let's talk about tannins.

161 was the first tma episode i heard on early release, and i felt the bit where martin declines wine and cites tannins was pretty obvious in its implications. cool, got it, say no more.

imagine my surprise when i was one of maybe three people i saw read between the lines there, in a fandom famous for red stringing--a fandom that immediately caught the much less obvious thread of ignition sources in the same episode. i'll spell it out: alcohol is an issue for martin.

maybe it just felt obvious because addiction is a pet issue for me--as it is for jonny, who has said everything he writes is filtered through a lens of addiction. i don't know if that's due to his own experience or a loved one's, and i won't speculate; i also don't know if martin personally struggled with drinking or just avoids it for fear he would, but alcohol would fit what we know of his family. his dad walking out and his mum spiralling into bitter wallowing and verbal abuse? i'd bet one or both of them drank, yeah.

on a basic level martin tries to decline alcohol, and that alone should have raised eyebrows given what we know of martin and, again, a fandom that dissects everything. we already knew martin "K" blackwood lied about his personal life and his family in particular, especially pre-canon, which is when this flashback took place. i was shocked that everyone took his flimsy excuse at face value with no further questions.

and the excuse is flimsy. martin turns down wine by--nervously--exclaiming tannins are "a proven headache trigger!" which sounds like trivia from a magazine cover and not the words of someone who actually has headaches--and it hasn't come up before or since. jon, confused, points out that tea, a drink martin consumes to a degree that is memetic both in- and out-of-universe, also contains tannins, and martin squawks a panicked, "what?!"

if tannins are enough of a concern for martin that he knew they're in wine and so avoids it, why didn't he know they're in his drink of choice? why does he still drink tea at the time of canon, and why doesn't he struggle with constant headaches from consuming 'a proven headache trigger' day in and day out? why, indeed, would someone avoid wine and not tea?

when sasha insists martin drink he caves and agrees to 'just a drop'. i imagine him pouring it in a plant, which admittedly he could have done if tannins really were the issue. i will say that i, for one, would be less likely to falsely agree to something that makes me physically ill than to a private issue that i'd rather not be pressed on any further. this scene also establishes martin's birthday was an ice cream party instead of the more traditional visit to a pub.

also, this scene was in the first episode of the final season, as one of three flashbacks that could have been to any pre-canon event in the archives. prime narrative real estate. not really time one would waste on establishing the important character context that martin has... headaches. which never comes up before or after, even regarding the week he spent in spiral town. but you know what is pretty crucial character background...?

it felt like a no-brainer, and yet all i saw was h/c fluff about jon attending to martin's headaches. and i hate feeling bitter about disability representation. i want folks with chronic headaches to feel seen and have fluffy escapist fantasies. i don't want to be mad about people portraying a character with a disability. but, guys? you got the wrong disability. jonny sent a clear message, and it went over fandom's head.

[formulawolff]

"you belong here" - s.v.

pairing: gf!reader x aston martin!sebastian vettel

word count: 1.5k

warnings: (slight) age gap relationship, a little bit of cursing here and there, seb being absolutely down bad for the reader, some (slight) angst, the general public being judgmental, (slight) slut shaming, the drivers being little shits (as always), yadayadayada

a/n: i am a perfectionist when it comes to writing personalities, mannerisms, cadences of words, etc. so if i happened to not do the best job with this fic, please be patient with me!!! this is my first time writing for seb!!! i am open to feedback!!! <3

"okay, from the top. how many drivers are there?"

"twenty."

"nope!" he shakes his head, his lips curling into a smug smirk, "there are nineteen drivers. sorry love, but you were incorrect."

"sebastian," you scoff, rolling your eyes, "you needed to specify if you were included. because if you weren't included, there would be nineteen other drivers. if you were, there would be twenty."

"that's why it's called a trick question," his hand squeezes yours, "your hands are clammy, by the way."

"maybe because i'm nervous?" you counter, "this is my first time tagging along to a grand prix, you know."

"i know," he brings your hand to his mouth, kissing it tenderly, "i'm sorry for being a little pest."

"you're not a pest," your heart swells at the gesture, "i'm just anxious to meet everyone, that's all."

"oh they'll love you," confidence oozes out of his words, "i have no doubts about that."

sebastian vettel, four time world drivers' champion, was your boyfriend of the last year or so. the two of you met online, as you had slid into his dms on instagram after a very intoxicated evening out with friends.

since you had a love for formula one since you were a teenager, you admired drivers such as lewis hamilton, nico rosberg, daniel ricciardo, and well, sebastian.

you weren't quite sure where the love for the sport came from, but you could remember the sleepless nights you spent on youtube, eagerly clicking through racing highlights through various grand prixes. the sleepovers where your friends would be doing makeovers on you or painting your nails as you chattered about all of the driver drama and lore.

so, when you learned that mr. vettel was very single, and very open to the world of dating, you decided to shoot your shot. it took about six or seven drinks, but you mustered the courage to type out those fateful words.

i heard your single. we should change that.

shockingly, you received a response not too long after sending the message.

i believe it's *you're and not your. why should i take you up on your offer? you're a very beautiful woman but i need a little more information before i take you out on a date. ;)

from that message, the two of you chatted constantly, getting to know one another in-between shifts at your job, and his free time between races, press conferences, and training sessions.

eventually, he asked for your number, requesting a facetime call. you obliged, the two of you talking for hours upon hours that night. only a week or so later, he flew you out to his place in switzerland, requesting that you spend the weekend with him.

you did, falling for him the moment you met him in person. well, not like it was difficult by any means. with his charming aura and goofy persona, you felt comfortable almost immediately, letting your walls come crashing down.

nothing was too much or too out-of-pocket. you could make all of the vulgar jokes you wished, and he would laugh right along, only escalating the joke further. you could cry on his shoulder about anything, and he would happily rub your back, wiping away the tears that fell. he would hold you every night you slept together, not letting go until you wriggled away in the mornings.

and now, here you were, hand-in-hand as you entered the paddock. your heart skips a beat as your gaze falls on lance stroll, sebastian's fellow driver and teammate.

upon seeing you, his mouth curves into a bright smile, "look who it is!"

"i know you're not that excited to see me," sebastian pouts, "or did you really miss me that much?"

lance rolls his eyes at sebastian, sticking out his right hand, "good morning! i'm lance. i'm the other aston martin driver. well, you probably already know that."

"it's nice to meet you," you suppress a giggle, "i've heard a lot about you!"

"oh have you?" lance arches a brow, turning to sebastian, "have you been talking shit?"

"always pooks," sebastian chuckles, "not really. i just happen to talk a lot about racing. i'm sure she's tired of it by now."

"oh never," you flash sebastian a radiant grin, "i never get tired of all of the racing talk. i've loved formula one since i was about thirteen or so."

"that's awesome!" lance gushes, "you have yourself a keeper then, seb."

"i know i do," you feel his arm wrap around your shoulder, "should we go meet some fans? i promise they won't bite."

"fans?" you echo, a shiver running down your spine.

"well yeah," lance nods, "we have some time before we need to meet up with everyone. we usually chat with some fans, hand out some autographs. nothing too serious or glamorous."

"if you say so," you mumble, the words so quiet you were shocked you heard them.

it wasn't like you were dreading interacting with fans, it was just that you were a bit daunted by the idea.

ever since sebastian went public with you about a month ago, the reaction from the public was mixed. one half was adamant that you were too young for the driver, as there was an almost fifteen year age gap between the two of you. the plethora of negative comments that flooded the comment section of your instagram posts was almost too much to bear.

the other half, however, was very supportive, voicing that they "shipped" the two of you or that you were good for the driver. some comments even went as far to say that you were "a breath of fresh air", and that sebastian needed someone like you in his life.

yet, as the three of you stroll out of the paddock, you hoped for the latter. that the fans would be kind, welcoming you with open arms.

you could only dream, right?

"sebastian!"

"sebastian over here!"

voices flurry about, calling from all directions. everywhere all around, it was almost a sea of green, fans donning aston martin gear from head to toe. people of all ages flooded your field of vision, children hoisted on their parents shoulders to men and women in their seventies, maybe even their eighties.

"baby, can i see your purse?" his breath fans against your ear, snapping out of your trance.

"yeah," you nod, fumbling with your bag, "y-you need your sharpie, right?"

"hey," fingers find yours, intertwining them together, "it's just you and i. forget everyone else. just think about you and i."

"it's hard to-" you protest, yet you're swiftly cut off by a voice rising above the midst of the crowd.

"who invited the slut?"

sebastian's brows furrow, his eyes narrowing into slits, "what the fuck?"

more voices cut in, jeering.

"put her back in her crib! where she belongs!"

"you heard what i said! who invited that slut beside you?"

"goddamn," lance mutters under his breath, "what the fuck are they on right now?"

tears well up, threatening to spill over as you duck your head, lower lip trembling. sebastian senses your energy shift, wrapping a protective arm around your waist. he pulls you in close, pressing gentle kisses along your temple.

"come on, let's go back to the paddock. you don't deserve this."

lance flashes you a sympathetic glance before raising a hand, giving the crowd the finger, "whoever said that, this is for you!"

every aspect of the walk back is blurred as the tears fall. your lips are sealed tightly shut, suppressing the sobs rising in your chest.

you were barely here an hour and fans were already heckling you.

could you even last the weekend here?

did you even belong here?

"hey," his voice is soft, "come here."

blinking, you realize that he had taken you back to his motorhome, a private space for just the two of you. his arms are open, inviting you in. you nearly collapse into his chest, burying your head in it as he rubs your back.

"i'm so sorry."

"you don't have to be sorry," you shrug, swallowing the lump in your throat, "they're right. i don't belong here."

"stop that," fingers grasp your chin, tilting your head up, "you do belong here. you belong here just as much as anyone else does. i need you here."

"you promise?"

"i promise baby," sebastian tucks a few wisps of hair behind your ear, "you're irreplaceable. who cares what they think? just focus on me. it's just you and i this weekend, okay?"

"okay," you nod, sniffling slightly.

"you know what i think?" he leans in, the tip of his nose brushing against yours.

"what?" you inquire, the tears dissipating as he brings you in closer.

"they're just jealous that i have the most breathtaking, stunning, kindest, funniest girlfriend in the whole wide world. and no one, i mean no one, can take that away from me. you're mine baby. and nothing is ever going to change that."

you find yourself nearly crumbling into his chest once again, "you mean that?"

"of course i do. now, let's go try this again. if anyone is rude or hateful, i'll just spit on them, okay?"

[annebaby]

SAFE PLACE

hello everyone! i am back :) i have recently fell down the kate martin hole ( if you couldnt tell already) and decided to write. i have been working super hard in clinics and classes since you last heard from me, so i hope this isn't too rusty! love you guys!

warning: fingering (r receiving), oral (r receiving), making out, nipple play

i think that's it? let me know!

my divider is from here!

as i sat in my car with tears rolling down my face, i didn’t know who to call. the rain was pouring, a perfect parallel to the emotions flowing through my body. my vision blurred and my tears welled just thinking about it.

i had just been on a date. needless to say, it did not go well. i had been continuously let down by every man i deemed well enough for my attention. i guess i was just bad at picking ‘em out. 

it always ended the same way.

“wanna come to my place?”

“dtf?” 

“ohhh cmon. don’t be a prude.”

i couldn’t even gather my thoughts about the night as i scrolled through my contacts list. i was searching for somebody - anybody- that could provide me with any sort of comfort. however, i knew there was only one person who could make me feel better. 

kate martin. 

as much as i hated to say it, the girl had a comforting aura around her. something about her just drew me in every single time. imagine a bee to a flower or a moth to a flame - that was kate and me. 

our past was patchy, the ups and downs of our so-called “friendship” had blurred the lines for boundaries too easily. whether we’d end up making out, staying over, or doing much worse, each time would end with one of us being heartbroken. 

but i didn’t care right now. 

i needed her scent and her eyes. i needed her hands and i needed her mouth. 

i needed kate. 

my fingertips scrolled relentlessly to the bottom of my text messages, finding the abandoned chat from a month or two ago. 

tears splattered on my phone as i pressed the call button and brought it to my ear. 

it rang once. 

it rang twice. 

it rang three times.

“hello?” kate answers. 

“hey. kate im so sorry for calling you but i-,“ i stopped as tears continued to flow down my face. 

“you know my address. just come on over. it’s just me here.”

god kate, i could kiss you. 

“thank you,” i whispered. 

i hung up the phone and placed my forehead on the steering wheel. thoughts of another night with kate kept creeping into my mind. the good ones and the bad ones. 

nonetheless, i put my car and drive and headed her way. 

every time i thought the tears were done, another pool of them welled in my eyes. every time i thought about my past few dates, my heart felt a pang of sadness. 

i tried to push the tears and thoughts away as i reach kate’s apartment door, but my pathetically light knocking reminded me of how sad i really was. 

i stood in front of her door for a few seconds, trying to keep it together until i was in the comfort of her home. 

i heard the lock clicking and the door opened. kate stood there, worry filling her eyes and her face full of pity. 

i looked up at her, letting the tears fall down my cheeks as she pulled me into her apartment and engulfed me in a hug. her arms squeezed around my waist as mine wrapped around the back of her neck. i cried into her, tears staining her iowa t shirt. 

“im so sorry for calling you,” i sobbed, backing out of her embrace. i wiped my eyes with my hands, trying any attempt to get rid of the nonstop tears. 

“i know we said we’d never do this again. i’m so sorry i just didn’t know who else to call-“ i was cut short as kate held my face and gently kissed me. 

i placed my hands on her waist, my body savoring everything about her. the kiss was soft and sweet, full of love. there was no hunger or sinister desire about it - just pure comfort and affection. 

my eyes fluttered open as she moved back, her thumb wiping a falling tear off my cheek. 

she gently smiled and looked at me with her bright blue eyes. 

“you and i both know that we need each other more than we let on,” she said, sighing. 

i leaned into her hand, my heart finally feeling at ease. she stroked my face with her thumb before pulling me into another hug and kissing me lovingly on my head. 

she led me over to her couch with her hand on the small of my back. 

“before i ask you to be my girlfriend, tell me all about the horrible date you went on.”

i paused, stopping in my tracks. kate turned me to face her, her hands moving to my hips. she smiled at me before speaking again. 

“i know things have been rough between us ; on both ends.” 

her hands move to cup my face as she brings me closer. 

“but i cant seem to get you off my mind. ever.”

now, i seemed to notice how good she looked. her hair was down, her eyes wide as she stared into my own. 

i smiled up at her as tears kept falling from my eyes. she leaned in slowly and kissed me. the kiss was sweet. it was filled with love and care and tenderness, everything she felt in her heart. 

all for me. 

i kissed her back slowly, feeling the despair and sadness in my heart melt away. she was so warm, so comforting. her fingers slid into the back of my jean pockets as she breathed in through her nose. 

my hands hesitantly wrapped around her neck, tangling in the roots of her hair. 

then suddenly, she was everywhere. gripping my ass, attacking my mouth with her tongue and pulling my body impossibly closer to her. 

i broke the kiss quickly, looking at her wide-eyed. was this really something that we should be doing? 

i pushed the thought out of my head hurriedly, the impulsiveness of her actions sending heat straight between my legs. then, she leaned down and began to kiss me again. she gently put her hands on my waist and backed me into her room.

she flipped me around and pressed me against the door-shutting it. her hands were traveling everywhere fast. she was on my waist, my breasts, my ass, etc. you name it and she was there. 

i gasped out quietly as she began to leave sloppy kisses on my neck. i leaned my neck back, allowing her more access. she grinned against my skin.

“no man,-” she panted.

“will ever,-” she said, her fingers tugging on the bottom seam of my shirt. she leans in to continue kissing me.

she pulls my shirt off smoothly, her fingers digging into the exposed skin on my waist,

“make you-“ she kisses me again.

“feel like-“

her hands reach around to the clasps of my bra, her mouth moving to my neck. 

she takes my bra off effortlessly, the material falling to her floor along with my shirt.

‘-this.” 

her eyes travel down to my breasts. 

i reach for her shirt seam as well pulling it over her head, i notice her sports bra and her toned abdomen. my fingertips trace up the sides of her body and swear i felt my mouth watering. 

as if something snapped in me, i push kate’s shoulders until her legs hit her bed and she sits down. i crawl on top of her, sitting in her lap. 

“you’re so pretty, kate,” i whisper.

she smiles and brings her hand to the back of my head, pulling my lips to hers. 

i open my mouth invitedly, her tongue slipping in and fighting for dominance with my own. the fight for control caused kate to moan in my mouth. her hips buck up against mine, the friction causing me to tug on her hair.

“you like that?” she whispers against my lips. our noses touch and i open my eyes, looking straight at her. i nod my head frantically, encouraging her to keep going. her hands grip my hips, holding me down against her thigh. she starts to move my body back and forth, grinding my body against her thigh.

the friction is enough to make me throw my head back, and i feel her grip me tighter. 

“god you’re so perfect,” she whispers. then, she stands up and switches us so she’s on top of me. 

she’s quickly unbuttoning my jeans, wasting no time on teasing. 

“damn, kate. are you excited or what?” i ask, laughing. 

she looks up at me, staring me in my eyes. 

“i haven’t tasted you in months.”

i don’t respond, instead i lift my hips up so she can pull down my jeans and underwear. im completely naked under her, something she’s admitted she likes before.

she crawls up my body, my legs parting and wrapping around her as she leans down to kiss my breasts. she kitten licks one of my nipples, her other hand harshly groping the other breast. my back arches due to the pleasure, a pornographic moan escaping my lips. 

i feel her teeth slightly graze my nipple again before she switches sides. i can practically feel myself pooling between my legs. 

she slowly licks down my torso, stopping to give me kisses on my inner thighs. i can tell she’s leaving hickeys, another thing she likes to do. 

“kate stop it,” i plead. i needed her now. 

my hips bucked upwards, her hands aggressively holding me down as she placed a singular kiss on my pubic bone, then another on the spot where i needed her most. 

i look down at her, her blue eyes already staring into mine. her tongue darted out, hardly grazing me.

i snap my head back, my thighs subconsciously trapping her head. 

then, she moves one of her hands from around my thighs, and she slips a finger into me. 

before i can even make a sound, she begins to eat me out and fuck me with her finger at the same time, adding a second. 

i moaned her name, my face scrunching up with pleasure. 

“kate ohmygod,” i breathed.

she moved her head from side to side, my pleasure increasing tenfold - if that was even possible. 

she took my ankles and set them both on her shoulders, pulling me closer against her in the process. i knew she could tell i was close. she started moving faster and curling her fingers inside of me.

“kate please,” i begged. i didn’t even know what i was asking for. she felt so good. 

i felt her hum against me, completely sending me over the edge. pleasure ripped through me as my stomach twitched as i came down from my high. her hands moved to my hips again, holding me down as she cleaned me up with her mouth. 

i stayed laying flat on her bed as she crawled on top of me. she took her fingers and placed them in my mouth. i sucked on them, tasting myself. 

she smiled wide and licked the mess off her lips.

“you wanna be my girlfriend?"

[iwanthermidnightz]

When I was 24 I sat in a backstage dressing room in London, buzzing with anticipation. My backup singers and bandmates gathered around me in a scattered circle.Scissors emerged and I watched in the mirror as my locks of long curly hair fell in piles on the floor. There I was in my plaid button down shirt, grinning sheepishly as my tour mates and friends cheered on my haircut. This simple thing that everyone does. But I had a secret. For me. It was more than a change of hairstyle. When I was 24. I decided to completely reinvent myself.

How does a person reinvent herself, you ask? In any way I could think of. Musically, geographically, aesthetically, behaviorally, motivationally. And I did so joyfully. The curiosity I had felt the first murmurs of while making red had amplified into a pulsing heartbeat of restlessness in my bars. The risks I took when I toyed with pop sounds and sensibilities on red? I wanted to push it further. The sense of freedom I felt when traveling to big bustling cities? I wanted to live in one. The voices that had begun to shame me in new ways for dating like a normal young woman? I wanted to silence them.

You see, in the years preceding this, I had become the target of slut shaming, the intensity and relentlessness of which would be criticized and called out if it happened today. The jokes about my amount of boyfriends. The trivialization of my songwriting as if it were a predatory act of a boy crazy psychopath. The media co-signing of this narrative. I had to make it stop because it was starting to really hurt.

It became clear to me that for me there was no such thing as casual dating, or even having a male friend who you platonically hang out with. If I was seen with him, it was assumed I was sleeping with him. And so I swore off hanging out with guys, dating, flirting, or anything that could be weaponized against me by a culture that claimed to believe in liberating women but consistently treated me with the harsh moral codes of the Victorian era.

Being a consummate optimist, I assumed I could fix this if I simply changed my behavior. I swore off dating and decided to focus only on myself, my music, my growth. And my female friendships. If I only hung out with my female friends, people couldn't sensationalize or sexualize that, right? I would learn later on that people could and people would.

But none of that mattered then because I had a plan and I had a demeanor as trusting as a basket of golden retriever puppies. I had the keys to my own apartment in New York and I had new melodies bursting from my imagination. I had Max Martin and Shellback who were happy to help me explore this new sonic landscape I was enamored with. I had a new friend named Jack Antonoff who had made some cool tracks in his apartment. I had the idea that the album would be called 1989. And we would reference big 80's synths and write sky high choruses. I had sublime, inexplicable faith and I ran right toward it, in high heels and a crop top.

There was so much that I didn't know then, and looking back I see what a good thing that was. This time of my life was marked by right kind of naïveté, a hunger for adventure. And a sense of freedom I hadn't tasted before. It turns out that the cocktail of naïveté, hunger for adventure and freedom can lead to some nasty hangovers, metaphorically speaking. Of course everyone had something to say. But they always will. I learned lessons, paid prices, and tried to… don't say it don't say it. I'm sorry, I have to say it. Shake it off.

I’ll always be so incredibly grateful for how you loved and embraced this album. You, who followed my zig zag creative choices and cheered on my risks and experiments. You, who heard the wink and humor in "blank space" and maybe even empathized with the pain behind the satire. You, who saw the seeds of allyship and advocating for equality in "Welcome to New York". You, who knew that maybe a girl who surrounds herself with female friends in adulthood is making up for a lack of them in childhood (not starting a tyrannical hot girl cult). You, who saw that I reinvent myself for a million reasons, and that one of them is to try my very best to entertain you. You, who have had the grace to allow me the freedom to change.

I was born in 1989. Reinvented for the first time in 2014, and a part of me was reclaimed in 2023 with the re-release of this album I love so dearly.

Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine the magic you would sprinkle on my life for so long. This moment is a reflection of the woods we've wandered through and all this love between us still glowing in the darkest dark.

I present to you, with gratitude and wild wonder, my version of 1989.

It’s been waiting for you.