good day today so sharing this bandf1 oscarmark (musician oscar + manager/ex-musician mark) snippet. hopefully it works as a standalone!
Last week's spell of good weather has worn off, April showers kicking in to accentuate the misery of Monday morning. It matters little to Oscar. Mondays are no more distinct than any other day of the week, and rain is no more distinct than any other kind of weather, when he spends all his time under the white studio lights regardless of either circumstance.
The ceaseless grind of rehearsals and meetings and media is something he's grown used to. He only regrets that he won't be able to get in front of his synth until he gets home — this, the erratic beating down of raindrops on the car window underscoring the low rhythm of Mark's voice, is the sort of thing that makes him want to write.
“I'll be in the two o'clock,” Mark continues, glancing over today's schedule on his phone screen. “I'll come early — no need to talk to Zak without me, alright? Leave the chit-chat to the other three.”
Oscar nods along, just as he has for the rest of Mark's spiel. There's no point in interjecting when he has nothing to say. He watches Mark's lips move and thinks, absentmindedly, that if he were to interrupt Mark, it'd only be to kiss him.
He's heard the stories. From a blend of online forums and Mark's vague allusions, he sees it clear in his mind's eye: various combinations of Mark's old band stumbling in late to practice, filming, meeting, hair tousled, clothes disorderly, bodies flushed. Seb's smug grin unwavering even as someone reminds him that his fly is down; Jense giggling, making a half-arsed attempt to pull the straps of her low-cut tank over the freshly crimson marks decorating her collarbone; Mark, trying to shake off the shame.
It's the kind of image he would've conjured up in the dark of his adolescent bedroom, Mark all hot and heavy before a rehearsal's even started. He longs to render it reality, now that he has the chance. Oscar thinks of kissing Mark, of clambering over the centre console to maneuver himself into Mark's lap, of reclining the seat until they're horizontal; his media training kicks in, as natural as fight or flight, and Oscar thinks of how visible they are, of the ever-looming threat of possible paparazzi, of the scandal of it all.
Still, it doesn't entirely stop Oscar's mind from wandering places it shouldn't. Mark shifts towards him, legs opening just a touch wider, and Oscar's breath hitches. He runs through it in his head. Cons: Mark is loud and terribly obvious, and would probably be pretty mad at him. Pros: if Oscar's head were where it needed to be, he'd be lower than the windows, and no one would be able to see him taking Mark in his mouth, all the way to the hilt, feeling him stiffen against his tongue. They'd only take a few minutes. He'd swallow — no need to dirty the sleek leather of Mark's Porsche — and pop a gum or two and, after he's sorted himself out in the bathroom, no one would notice a thing.
“Osc?” Mark says. “You ready to go?”
Oscar realises he should probably school his expression into something more normal than his thoughts. He glances in the rearview mirror and is pleased to find that his face is already perfectly blank. “Yeah.”
This is crazyyyy https://x.com/laurogeitabat/status/1968628982875570282
he was FIGHTING to come up with a PR-friendly answer 😭 according to op he ended up saying him, mark, and the team are all aligned in what they want. so he got there eventually. but the struggle was real. i only wish i were a fly on the wall for the post-monza oscar-mark debrief
the situation got so out of hand they even got the old man denying the rumors instead of saying some bullshit like oscar should brush up his german. peace and love on planet earth i guess
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