𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘓𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘔𝘦

𝖲𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒: 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖩𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝖯𝗈𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗇𝗈 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗎𝗇𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗇𝖽…𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗈 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍. 𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗁𝖺𝗄𝗂, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖩𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌, 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇’𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍. 𝖶𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍, 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋? 𝖮𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖩𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽?

𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗁𝖺𝗄𝗂!𝖺𝗎 | 𝗃𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗑 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 | 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗎𝗌 𝗅𝗎𝗉𝗂𝗇 𝗑 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 | 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍 | 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿

𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖮𝗇𝖾

𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖳𝗐𝗈

𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖳𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾

𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖥𝗈𝗎𝗋

𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖥𝗂𝗏𝖾

𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖲𝗂𝗑

𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖲𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇

𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖤𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍

𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖭𝗂𝗇𝖾

𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖳𝖾𝗇

𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖤𝗅𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇

𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖳𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗏𝖾

𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖾𝗇 -𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘥𝘬 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯! 𝘱𝘭𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘢𝘴𝘬

𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 | 𝖸𝖫𝖬!𝖱𝖾𝗆𝗎𝗌 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝗐𝗇 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗍𝗎𝗅𝗂𝗉𝖽𝗋𝖺𝗐𝗓𝗓 YLM!Remus again

𝘿𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙧: 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙧𝙪𝙨𝙝 𝙢𝙚, 𝙖𝙨𝙠 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 𝙪𝙥𝙙𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙞𝙨, 𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙨𝙠 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙜𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚, 𝙄 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙘𝙠 𝙮𝙤𝙪

Flirty Hide and Seek with Star Rail Men

Pairing: Blade, Dan Heng, Gepard, Jing Yuan, Luocha, Welt x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, kissing, hide and seek, slight predator/prey play, neck kisses, grinding, Reader getting pinned

A/N: Slightly naughty but mostly playful.

Blade loves a good game of hunt- er, of hide and seek with you. He's like a demon in the night, staying in the shadows while chuckling at you turning around yourself, looking for him until you saw a pair of crimson eyes staring back at you before you found yourself pinned against the dirt with a sword against your neck. This is part of the game right? It's not? Then what does he get for catching you? A kiss. Well it better be a damn good one. He's sure it will be, its from you after all.

Dan Heng wasn't interested until the topic of kissing came up. Now you have his attention, he likes kissing you a lot. And a little challenge doesn't sound that bad. He lets you escape him the first time but he's always just outside of your vision, appearing just to hold you in place long enough to get his kiss and then letting you push him away again and starting the count again. He can hide from you too but you get the feeling that even when you do you're still the one at a major disadvantage when compared to him.

Gepard sees this a great opportunity to sharpen both your skills and have fun while you're at it. So go ahead, he's very confidant in his ability to find you. He... does not. He's good in combat but sneaking around and smoking people out is not one of his strengths. You actually end up winning the first round and now its his turn to hide. Turns out he's better at that part, but only a little. Still he has a lot of fun while doing it, especially when one of the rules is that the loser has to give a kiss to the winner which... it leaves you both winners and covered with smudged lipstick by the end.

Jing Yuan relishes in this game with you. The mere mention has his eyes lighting up with excitement and has his inner lion coming out to play. You can hide wherever you want he'll always be able to track you down, his eyes zeroing in on you, snaking up on you and pouncing on his cute prey. He has you pinned down completely, his hands holding your wrists, his legs at your sides and most importantly his mouth, his teeth at your neck like the true king of beasts that he is rumored and now shown himself to be. Do the teeth marks hurt? He can kiss them better when he carries you to the warm baths.

Luocha really, really didn't want to play but he folds against your whims like always. The coffin he carried will be the base where he will be counting from but he will spend a long time there even after he's done, thinking over the best strategy. You almost get bored in your hiding spot. Then he starts moving, every move careful and mindful of his surroundings. He knows you're not far, he just needs to keep his coffin within his field of vision and you will come to him. He was right, except he's not fast enough, tackling you to the dusty ground only after you've made the save. He does not like this game very much. No, even after you promise him the reward that is you, all night, however he wants.

Welt would rather hide then seek. He finds it simpler, more exciting if you're the one doing the chasing for once. You like it too don't lie, looking out for him and then both of you making a mad dash, only for him to pull you against him and pin you against the wall with his body and lips. Oh didn't you know? He chose you as his home base, meaning all he needed to do was touch you and he would win. Clever huh? Not fair? Of course it is. Why? Because your lips will be too busy with his to argue.

6K notes View Post

jestersasphodel

1 year ago

lover - Oscar Piastri

Words: 2,958 Summary: Press and fans find out during the Australian GP that Oscar isn’t single, in fact he is married. The more troubling part is the rest of the grid finding that out as well. Note(s)/Warning(s): Some drivers aren’t portrayed greatly in this, not because I don’t love them, but because they're a bit dumb and stupid. Some interesting thoughts about Lando and Max and Mclaren and Red Bull. Some angst. Logan is protective of Oscar and Oscar’s wife (his self proclaimed little sister). Slight NSFW at the end. Once again stating that I love all the drivers mentioned and written in this fic. (If anyone is interested in knowing more about my thoughts on the whole Lando, Mclaren, Max, Red Bull thing, send me an ask.)

Taglist | Masterlist

“Hey, Apples.” Oscar greets when he picks up the phone. “Os,” He frowns, stopping in his steps, ignoring how Lando is trying to wave him over for something. “What’s wrong?” She sighs, “You know how I said I wouldn’t get lost?” He breathes a sigh of relief that it's nothing serious, smiling again. “Lando’s trying to get my attention for something, but I’ll text Logan to get you. That okay?” “Yeah. I’ve missed our American boy.” Oscar scoffs, “you’ve missed him. I’ve had to deal with him.” She laughs, “Uh huh. I’ll let you go, but have fun talking to Lando. I’ll see you later, Os.” “Later, Apples.”

Ending the call, he quickly messages Logan. The message brief and he’s not surprised when the American driver sends back quickly a simple thumbs up.

“What’s up, Lando?” He asks, when he finally gets close enough to his teammate. “You’re married?” Oscar blinks at the British driver. This is what Lando had been waving him over for? Something he already knew. “Yeah. Have been.” His eyebrows press together. “Are you alright? Hit your head or something?” “No!” Lando shrieks, making him jump back. “You’re married. When did that happen?”

His shriek and loud words catch a few other drivers' attention and before Oscar can process it, he has Charles, George, Checo, Mick, and Lance also surrounding him, asking him if he’s really married.

The repeated question has him blinking widely, wondering if there’s something in the air that’s making them all have memory loss.

“Yes, I’m married. Why are you guys acting like this is new news?” “Non.” Charles says, eyes wide. “You can’t be married. You are a baby. Younger than Arthur.” He rolls his eyes at the words. “Fuck off, mate. I’m not a baby.” Charles pouts. “But you are so young to be married.” Oscar’s nose wrinkles at the words, lips pressing together. “Right.” He nods, holding back what he wants to say. “I don't know what to tell you guys. I’m married and I thought you guys knew.” George scoffs, “none of us had any idea. And twitter is going crazy, mate.” “What do you mean twitter? I’ve been married since I was eighteen. This isn’t a new thing.” “Eighteen!” Oscar nearly throws his hands in the air. “How did not one of you know? It’s public knowledge. Like all marriages.” He doesn’t mention the fact that he has definitely mentioned his wife in infront of all the drivers, they all obviously had trouble listening. Lando flushes, “I mean, you don’t really talk about yourself. So, I guess it just never got brought up?” He offers, though it feels a little weak and Lando can’t help but wonder if Oscar had mentioned it but he had just thought that it was a joke or had been tuning him out because it wasn’t team or race related.

“Late congratulations then Oscar. She is here, no?” Checo says. Oscar smiles at the older driver. It had felt odd that he had joined the rest of them, but it was clear he had joined because of the mention of another driver having a wife. They were few and far between. “Yeah, first race weekend this season.” “Give her my congratulations as well.” “I will.” He tells the older driver, watching as he leaves before turning his attention back to the other five.

“I’m private, but I’m not that private, you guys.” He says, and before one of them can say anything an American voice is speaking up from behind him. “Private about what?”

Logan eyes the five drivers surrounding Oscar, nearly cornering him. The girl next to him breath catches a little at the sight and he squeezes her a bit closer before dropping his arm from around her shoulder.

“Everything alright?” He asks, no one having answered his previous question. Oscar turns his head to throw him a grateful look before completely turning around seeing the girl beside him, a smile blooming across his face. “Logan find you okay?” He can see from the corner of his eye, her nod shyly, fidgeting under the stares of five complete strangers and Logan gives the girl he considers a little sister a light push to Oscar. Knowing that they’ll both feel better with some contact.

Logan turns his head to face her when she gives a light tug to his shirt and he easily tilts his head a little downwards to receive the kiss on the cheek she gives as silent thanks, trying not to smirk at the wide eyed looks the other drivers are giving him. He turns his head back to face them, when she joins Oscar, the youngest driver on the grid, easily wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close, though keeping her slightly tucked behind him.

“No one knew I was married.” Oscar tells him, answering his question from before. Logan’s eyebrows furrow. “What? It’s public knowledge.” He shrugs, “twitter is apparently going nuts. No one knew.” He then nods his head towards the five drivers in front of them. “Including other drivers.” He scoffs, “that’s a joke right?” None of them say anything and Logan can feel a simmer of anger starting in his gut. “Seriously. I’ve heard him mention her when all the drivers were around. Mark made a joke at the first race about him being married.”

No one of them say anything to that and Logan can feel his eyes narrow seeing Lando and George exchange a quick look.

It wasn’t necessarily surprising to hear that people on twitter were freaking out about it. It wasn’t something that first came up when you searched Oscar Piastri. But for not one of the drivers to know? Especially after hearing Oscar mention her? Mark make a joke about it? It rubbed him the wrong way.

He wondered if it was because when they all did a quick google on Oscar nothing about him being married came up. A combination of money buying a little privacy, though not enough to bury or hide a public marriage, and how private Oscar was as a person. He didn’t like talking about himself, was a little hard to make friends with unless effort was really put in or you were around him often enough. He also doubted that any of the drivers had really tried to get to know him due to the whole McLaren thing and the Alpine drama of last year. They only knew so much about Logan because everything was online about him, a problem with too much money, and he was willing to play into the whole about himself American persona.

It also makes him wonder if Oscar had been lying when he said that Lando and him were getting along. It was still early days, but for Lando not to know that Oscar was married? It spelled something that Logan didn’t like and the thought of Max not being the only teammate killer crosses his mind before he can stop it and he shakes his head. It was far too early for that and unfair to both Max and Lando. They weren’t the true issues or at least at the moment in Logan’s eyes Max wasn’t, their teams were.

Logan shakes his head at the silence from the other drivers still. He didn’t know what to say. Other than he wanted to tell them all to get their ears fucking checked. But he holds his tongue.

“Well now you guys know.” He tells them after another moment of silence. “This is Y/N, Oscar’s wife. And you already know all these guys.” She nods, giving them a small wave that Lance and Mick return before quickly walking away with quiet apologies. “You are a baby as well.” Charles says, eyes widening right after, clearly not having meant to say that. She looks at Oscar and then Logan. “I thought you guys said that Arthur was worse than him.” Logan laughs at the way Charles looks offended, mouth open in shock. “Charles has his moments.” Feeling a slight tug to his hoodie, Oscar gives a nod to his teammate and the other two drivers. “We have to get going. Talk to you tomorrow.” He tells them, before stepping away, knowing that Logan is following just barely not on their heels.

Logan and her both hang outside of the McLaren headquarters for the weekend, waiting for Oscar to come back from a quick talk with his race engineer.

“Lando.” She begins and she can feel Logan’s full attention on her. “Do I need to worry?” “Everyone likes him. He’s likable.” He tells her, trying to ignore what she’s getting at. Doesn’t want to think about the thought that popped into his head barely fifteen minutes ago. “Logan,” Her voice is a little harsh. “Do I need to worry about Oscar being teammates with him? We all saw what happened with Daniel at least with what the media said. And I’m grateful that McLaren gave Oscar one of his dreams. But do I need to worry that they will ruin him for Lando?” He can’t make his eyes meet hers, can’t when he can’t give her a sure answer. “I don’t know. Lando to McLaren is like Charles to Ferrari nearly, just not as predestined, I guess.” The words are sour sounding. “He still has good relationships with Daniel and Carlos.” “Max is called a teammate killer and he’s got a great relationship with Daniel. A fair one with Alex according to your texts. And we all know that it’s not him, but Red Bull that’s the killer.” He can’t help but glance around despite their whispers, wincing as she repeats his thought from earlier of Lando being perceived as a teammate killer. This really wasn’t the place to have this conversation, but he understood her need for some sort of answer. “I don’t know.” He repeats. “It’s still early. I want to say that McLaren will be fair to Oscar and treat him well, won’t treat him like a second class driver, but after them breaking a contract with Daniel.” He swallows harshly. “I don’t know.” And he hates that.

Getting into Formula 1, getting the chance that nearly all drivers dreamed of but only some got was supposed to be fun. Sure there was always going to be pressure and stress, but no one had warned him about the politics of it all.

“Okay,” she tells him, wrapping her arms around him in a hug and he can’t help but rest his head on her shoulder. Letting her bear his weight for a moment. “It’ll be okay Logan. And thank you.” “Of course.” He mumbles. And suddenly there’s another set of arms wrapping around him and her. He only doesn’t move or lift his head because he knows those arms and there’s an Australian accent in his ears.

“You alright, Logan?” He lifts his head to nod, not wanting to hurt her. “Yeah, just stress.” He squeezes them both a little tighter. “Can say that again.” Logan smirks, beginning to open his mouth but then a finger is poking between his ribs and he’s jumping out of the hug, rubbing at the spot with a pout. “Hey!” She shakes her head at him, pressing closer to Oscar as he presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Don’t get cheeky. You still coming to dinner with us?” Logan scoffs, “Of course. I’m not missing out on seeing Nicole and Chris.” “My parents will be there as well.” Logan throws his hands in the air, starting to walk backwards. “Why are we still here then?”

“Still missed him?” Oscar asks her as they start to follow him. She laughs at the dry but teasing tone. “Of course. He’s a great older brother.” “He is, isn’t he?” He has a put on suffering face, but there’s a fondness in his eyes as he looks ahead to where Logan is. “He is.”

“Is everything alright?” He asks, slowing their pace a bit more. She hesitates. “We’ll talk about it after dinner, but it should be.” His brows furrow at the response and he can’t help but squeeze her closer. “Are you okay?” “I’m all good, Os. Just worrying.” “Promise?” “Promise.”

—

“You’re worried.” He brings up nearly five hours later as they soak in the bath together, her back to his chest, his fingers interlaced, hands resting on her stomach and her hands resting on top of his. He can feel her breathing stutter and his heart clenches inside of his chest at the reaction. She had always been a bit of a worrier. He wasn’t exactly sure where she got it from, no siblings to inherit the trait from and her parents were fairly laid back. But this seemed different, more serious. “I had some thoughts about McLaren. I needed to talk to Logan about them. He had some of the same ones.” “Like?” She pauses, lips pressing together for a moment. “McLaren gave you your dream.” “One of my dreams.” He corrects her, picking up her left hand and pressing a kiss to her ring finger. Her wedding band and ring sitting on the bathroom counter instead of being where they belong. “One of your dreams.” She corrects. “They clearly favor Lando.” His hand and hers settling back where they were. “Lando’s an experienced driver, Apples.” he lets out a small laugh. “It’s only my first season. I’m a rookie.” “Oscar,” she turns slightly to look at him. “Daniel was a more experienced driver. He even got them their first win in how many years and look what they did to him?” He winces at the reminder. It would always slightly haunt him that the only reason he had a seat at McLaren is because they tossed Daniel like trash practically. Didn’t sit right with him and suddenly the solemness on her and Logan’s faces earlier made sense. “You two think they’ll do the same to me?” “I think that as long as Lando gives them some sort of positive result he’ll always be their number one. Even if you perform better.” He swallows at the words, because fuck it was looking like that wasn’t it?

Lando was a great driver, amazing, Oscar was thrilled to get to be his teammate and learn from him. But Daniel had pulled results from the McLaren, even if he hadn’t gotten as much as Lando did from it last season. It made no sense to get rid of an experienced driver or push him aside for a younger driver that would have years more left on the grid. And as he sits thinking about it, he’s reminded of how much last season McLaren put Lando first over Daniel, despite Daniel having a better chance or opportunity. Remembers some of the races he attended seeing Daniel’s frustrated, tired face as he got out of the car.

“You think Lando’s going to get called a teammate killer?” He knew her mind, knew it wasn’t a far stretch considering how Carlos was perceived at Ferrari and how Daniel wasn’t even racing this season. “I think that if people are willing to call Max one when Red Bull is clearly the problem, it’s a miracle that he hasn’t been called it already.” “Fuck.” He whispers, dropping his head to rest it on her shoulder. “I’m sorry.” She whispers and he lifts his head back up. “Don’t. We’re a team. This would have driven you mad keeping it to yourself.” It was a lot, but he was thankful it was being brought up now. Gave him more time. And god he’d have to bring it up with Mark. He could only imagine that the man would want to talk to her. Mark had always appreciated her thoughts and knew that they were a team. He didn’t just bring things to him, but to her as well.

“Charles doesn’t like me, I think.” Oscar can’t help but laugh. The tension that had filled the bathroom, leaving. “You did say that he was worse than Arthur.” “In that moment he was.” She defends and he presses a kiss to her cheek, still laughing. “Once he gets over being told he’s worse than Arthur, he’ll like you just fine.” “Think so?” “Know so.” He corrects. “Not many people dislike you, Apples.” “But you like me best.” She says, smiling. “Like you best and love you best. Love you so much.” He murmurs before pressing a series of kisses to her cheek making her giggle and then squealing when he manhandles her until she’s facing him, straddling him.

“Hi, Apples.” She beams at him and he can’t help but swallow at the brightness of her eyes. “Hi, Os.” “You ready for bed?” She lets out a little hum, wiggling her hips and his hands grasp at her waist, the lust that had started to simmer inside of him when he had turned her around growing at the pressure against his dick. “You have a race tomorrow.” “Is that a no?” “We haven’t had sex during a race weekend in over a year now. Don’t want you to be tired tomorrow.” “I’ll be alright.” He tells her, pressing her down a bit and can see the way her eyes dilate at the feeling of him growing hard underneath her. “Might even make me place higher.” “Well, only if you think it’ll make you place higher.” She teases and he can’t help but lean forward and kiss her.

She sighs into it, pressing closer to him, chests touching as he bites gently at her lip. “I’ve missed you.” She breathes when they separate, her eyes on the slight flushed face of her husband. “I’ve missed you too.”

---

Tagging: @ireadthensuetheauthors @copper-boom @lpab @gemofthenight @peachiicherries

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jestersasphodel

9 months ago

I NEED PART TWO OF THE MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N L/N!

. . . MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N Y/L/N FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT! (part2)

You cackled to yourself after sending the message into your groupchat, quickly returning to the video and beginning to play it again, occasional bursts of giggles slipping through your lips.

Resuming your place in the video—the first clip that began playing was actually from not that long ago at all. It was You, Kat Dennings, Elizabeth Olsen and Zendaya at Taylor Swifts Eras Tour (an experience you would genuinely never forget). Taylor was playing Lover and, in the clip, Kat had your face in one hand and the other wrapped around your waist, bringing you close to her body.

“Lover, can I go where you go—“ Kat sang with Taylor, singing all the lyrics to you and grinning at you, faces inches away from each other. “—Can we always be this close.” She punctuated this lyric with giving you an eskimo kiss.

You smiled sincerely at the memory.

The next clip began up, it was you and Chris Evans doing Playground Insults with BBC Radio 1: the two of you were sat opposite each other, knees touching, Chris was grinning goofily at you, giddy laughs escaping him as you tried to remain straight faced.

“—we’re here with Chris Evans and Y/N Y/L/N.” The presenters introduced.

“And we’re about to play Playground Insults . . Now Chris and Y/N are sat opposite each other,” the camera cut to you and Chris, him smiling largely and you looking away to contain your own, “the atmosphere is very tense.”

“We’ve done this quite a few times now but im thinking.. this is the biggest movie of the year, let’s make this the biggest playground insults we’ve ever done.”

“Yep.” Chris nodded, trying not to laugh.

“Chris, hun. . you’re ugly. Like, plain ugly.” You nodded seriously, immediately setting off as you feigned a pained wince to the words. “Everyone’s been talking about it. . just, you’re so atrocious to look at. Honestly, I almost feel arse over tits in horror when I saw you.”

Chris opened his mouth to say something but then faltered and pouted, “no matter how good of an actor I am, I could never even get those words out my mouth about you and make them sound genuine. Seriously.”

The third clip started—it was Chris Hemsworth on a carpet, a bold colourful question at the bottom said ‘WHO HAS THE MOST FANS?’. Chris immediately said, “Y/n.” In that deep Australian accent of his. “Not that I blame the people from choosing her to be the people’s queen, she is truly one of a kind. You’ll only ever meet one Y/n in your lifetime, cherish it. The fans have the right idea.”

It changed to Scarlett with the same colourful question at screen and at the same carpet event: “Oh, Yeah. Y/n, one hundred percent.” She chuckled huskily. “That woman has fans upon fans and seriously, I’m one of them. She is something else.” She grinned, winking at the camera.

After Scarlett, Paul Rudd came onto your screen in the very same clip. “Oh! The legend herself, Y/N Y/L/N.” Paul answered brightly, smiling. “The amount of fans she has is unbelievable—well, it’s definitely believable for someone like her, so, not really unbelievable..”

The forth clip began—it was you all playing Family Feud with Jimmy Kimmel, on his live show. Sebastian and RDJ were currently facing off; Jimmy posed the question “what, other than the sun, are some of the hottest things to exist?”

Sebastian got to the buzzer faster than Robert managed to and didn’t even falter or hesitate as he answered straight away, “Y/N Y/L/N.”

The audience immediately screamed laughed and shrieked in delight, RDJ just nodded his head in understanding and appreciation, clapping his hands. Chris Evans, Mark and Anthony on the other side all looked amused but ultimately accepting (Chris was nodding along almost subconsciously). You were on the other team, looking heavenward with a faint exasperated grin and Scarlet wrapped her arm around your waist, Chris Hemsworth smirking at you both.

The fifth clip started up: it was a behind the scenes shot from Endgame, the big final battle. You were currently in the middle of doing your own stunt, green screen behind you and harnesses strapped to you as you dangled at a halfway point in the air. Your arms and hands were positioned in such a way to show your character manipulating her powers—the position also very much enhanced your chest, with the added help of your superhero attire. You looked hot, even you could admit.

The camera mirthfully panned to some of the rest of the cast who all stood aside while you filmed your scene—said cast being Chris Evans, Tom Holland, Gwyneth Paltrow, RDJ, Elizabeth Olsen and Tessa Thompson. All of their eyes were fixated on you, Robert was the only one grinning in amusement (and awe) while all the others stared at you as though you hung the sun yourself.

“Boobies.” Lizzie giggled faintly, her eyes stuck. The rest of the cast watching dumbly nodded while the crew cracked up behind the cameras.

And if you screenshotted their dumbfounded faces looking ip at on screen you. . well that was your business.

The clip changed. It was now Karen Gillan being interviewed on some carpet event, looking genuinely breathtaking. The interviewer was asking, “—obviously, your friend and co-star Y/N Y/L/N has been in lots of iconic movies. . what is your favourite scene of hers in The Wolf of Wall Street?”

Karen paused with a cheeky little smile, giving the interviewer a a jokingly incredulous look. “Come on.” She simply said. “It’s a bloody no brainer, I’m certain it was Leonardo’s favourite scene too. . I hope it is anyway otherwise he’s a silly, silly man.”

At the same carpet event with the same interviewer, Chris Hemsworth was being interviewed—his wife, Elsa, on his arm and looking half ready to battle off any rude interviewers (queen).

“—what is your favourite scene of hers in Ocean’s 8?”

“All of them!” Elsa answered eagerly, grinning. “Her outfits really accentuated her personality and I enjoyed them very much so. Particularly her outfit for the gala. . the amount of accentuated personality, by gosh, it had me speechless.”

Chris turned her head, obviously trying not to laugh at his wife.

“Nunca he estado más celoso y agradecido por la ropa en mi vida.” Elsa hummed.

You blinked.

The clip changed to you, Sebastian, Lizzie, Paul, Jeremy and Jimmy all on his Tonight Show playing Musical Beers. The slightly unnerving music/beat played in the background while you all stalked around the circle, Paul and Jeremy already out—leaving you, Seb, Lizzie and Jimmy.

As you were all racing around the circular table, Lizzie very obviously swatted your ass and you were impressed with your own body as you watched that impact: the audience erupted into laughs and shrieks, Jimmy playfully covering his eyes as Seb smirked. You thought that would be the end of the clip, but no.

The very disco-esk tune briefly cut out and past time you thought that meant it stopped completely and you’d already reached for the red cup in front of you and chugged it’s contents, only to pause as the music began back up.

“Spit it back! Spit it back!”

You did just that—but when the music actually stopped and Seb was left standing in front of the cup with your (let’s not go there) in it, your mouth popped open in shock. Jeremy gladly backed away from the table in hysterics, Lizzie and Jimmy equally as amused.

“Oh my god, I am—“

Sebastian quickly downed the cup with. . those contents, not even looking all that perturbed.

“So sorry.” You finished, mouth agape.

You vaguely remembered a conversation you’d had with him after the show, sincerely and repeatedly apologising and he was just very, very amused with you. He didn’t seem to mind at all—what an odd man.

“It’s all good.” Sebastian chuckled lowly, wrapping the mortified looking past you in a one armed shoulder hug and squeezing you to him. Lizzie seemed to be trying to trade a very obvious eye message with you—the audience shrieked and screamed in the background.

Another clip began: its was you and Scarlett Johansson doing a trust fall thing, you thought (correctly).

“Scarlett I swear. .” You giggled, looking over your shoulder at the woman behind you—she grinned back at you amusedly, her eyes twinkling.

“Calm down.” She laughed herself. “I’ll catch you don’t worry, gorgeous.”

Still slightly overcome with nervous giggles, you turned and let out a breath as you shut your eyes before holding at your arms and falling back.

And catch you she definitely did—although her hands didn’t exactly land in a PG-13 area, you cackled as you watched her hands grope at your chest to pull you up. In the video, you were also wheezing as were the crew and Scarlett had a cheeky little smirk as she laughed.

When you were finally standing, she gave one last squeeze before finally letting go—on screen you was breathless with giggles.

“Always wanted to do that.” She shrugged simply with a large amused smile.

The next clip began—it was Zendaya and Tom Holland on LADBible, playing that how much do you agree or not game. The statement said was ‘Y/N Y/L/N is everyone‘s celebrity crush’.

Instantly, Tom and Zendaya moved their cups to strongly agree, both of them nodding in solid agreement with the statement: presently, you awed at your friends, ego very much boosted. Well. To be fair, all of this video was massively boosting your ego.

“I mean, come on.” Zendaya made a ‘duh’ face and shrugged her shoulders.

“It’s Y/N.” Tom smiled crookedly, adding onto her comment.

“I am so happy I get to now say that she’s one of my closest friends.” Zendaya beamed genuinely. “She’s—one of those people whose beauty isn’t just an external thing, she’s so lovely man.” She pouted, in awe of you.

Watching the video, you beamed back at her.

The clip changed: Mark Ruffalo was on the Graham Norton show, next to Nicki Minaj and an actor you couldn’t place.

“Who would you say your favourite co-star has ever been, Mark?” Graham inquired.

“I—i would probably have to go with Y/N—“ The crowd instantly erupted into cheers and yells and Nicki smiled next to him, stating that she loved you under the sound of cheering. Mark grinned back at her, mumbling ‘me too’.

“Yeah, she’s a hell of an actress, that one. So easy to work with. Funny as f—hell, she’s just—an extremely genuine and kind person, and she really brings the energy on set.” Mark grinned. “..she’s also the only free pass my wife has ever given me. Which I won’t be using! Because I don’t believe in cheating, it’s scummy! Even though she’s gorgeous—anyone would be lucky!” He had to rise to a shout at the end as the audience erupted.

Nicki giggled next to him, “me personally, I would use that pass.”

You gasped in laughter as you watched the screen, screen-recording it all so you could go back and watch it. Saving it to your folder titled PISSING MY PANTS HRLP

The clip changed yet again, showing a scene from the Winter Solider BTS. You and Sebastian were filming a scene where he had to shoot your character—you watched the ‘Winter Solider’ shoot your character multiple times making you go down with an agonised yell, crawling away from him.

As soon as CUT was yelled, Sebastian’s face dropped from his stone cold (wintery) expression and he raced to you, crouching next to you. He practically tugged you into his lap on the floor, holding you.

“Oh my fuck that—that just felt so real, Y/n. You know I would never hurt you right?” He asked, blinking repeatedly before a small smirk fell on his lips. “You’re way too pretty to injure doll. Can’t ruin your perfect face.”

On screen you huffed in mock anger, hiding an amused grin as you shoved at him—he still held you close to him though, so both of you fell backwards and burst into giggles.

You literally thought ‘I ship them’ as you watched the clip of Sebastian and yourself, forgetting that was you for a moment.

Another clip started up—another behind the scenes. It was you and Tom Hiddleston in Thor : Ragnarok. In the scene Loki was tied down to the chair and your character was meant to intimidate him—you watched yourself take out your character’s daggers and lean forward into his space. One leg leaned up on top of the arm of the chair, sliding one dagger just a hair above the skin of his neck while using the over the move his chin up to be angled to you as you mockingly smiled down at him.

You said your line as your character but Tom remained silent, mouth parted and eyes widened as he gazed up at you—speech failing him. (You knew that they actually decided to include this awestruck look in the movie—the amount of fucking edits you’d seen was unreal).

Eyebrows crinkling you nudged your knee into his chest and he snapped out of it, grabbing your knee in a gentle grip. “Sorry darling, words sometimes seem to fail me in your presence.” He muttered rather hoarsely, still staring up at you.

“I don’t fucking blame him.” Tessa Thompson murmured from behind you both, and the camera moved to show her staring at you in a similar awe.

Present time, you could barely hide your smirk. Literally the biggest ego boost. Of all time.

Again, the clip changed and it was now Natalie Portman looking gorgeous on a carpet event, being interviewed—“if you could have Jane explore another romance than Thor, who would it be and why?”

“Y/N!” Natalia enthused immediately. “Well—her character, but like. Both. Either. One for me, one for Jane. That—would be great. And why? Come on! She’s an absolutely beautiful woman, inside and out. She has this outward glow that you literally cannot and don’t want to look away from and that reflects so much in her personality—once you’ve interacted with her one time, you never want to stop. Ever. I’m not kidding.” She giggled.

Another clip started up quickly—a blooper of you and Chris Evans. In this scene, your characters were meant to kiss after an angsty, angry argument. You stormed into the frame, into the bedroom, completely in character—an angry expression on and ready to go at Steve.

Before you could even let out a single syllable to begin your lines, Chris immediately surged forward and took your face in his hands, kissing the living daylights out of you.

You both pulled back after a bit and you just started at him, questioningly (that kiss was probably one of your best ever, let it be known, Chris Evans was a fantastic kisser).

“I—I thought It’d be good for the scene. .” Chris trailed off bashfully, scratching the base of his neck, literally pulling the excuse out of his arse. In actuality, he hadn’t wanted to spare a moment of the scene where he could be kissing you, well, not doing so.

“Bull!” Scarlett exclaimed as she materialised in the doorway. “He just wanted to kiss you.” She told you, pointedly looking at the man.

“Yeah—i—“ He huffed a defeated sigh, pink-cheeked. “I’ve got nothing. She’s right.”

In hindsight, you thought to yourself, you should probably stop being so shocked when the fanbase starts shipping you with your costars.

The clip changed: now it was you, Elizabeth and Aaron on a carpet event together—all being interviewed at the same time.

“So, Y/n, how does it feel to be in a Maximoff twin sandwich right now?” The interviewer giggled happily, smiling.

Before you could open you’re mouth—“we’re really enjoying it.” Lizzie and Aaron replied at the same time.

The interview gaped and you simply rolled your eyes as the two smirked at either side of you, they’d been talking in sync ever since you’d first met them at the table reading.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t why?” Aaron grinned crookedly. “A beautiful, lovely woman in between us. Honestly, love, there’s not a thought in my head besides you.” He joked, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

“I completely support that.” Lizzie chirped in, “ever since I’ve met this gorgeous lady who i now acknowledge as my partner in everything—she’s taken up all of the room in my brain, and I couldn’t be happier.” She giggled, putting her arm around your waist.

In the middle of them both, with an arm over your shoulder and one around your waist—you simply sighed, sparing the giddy interviewer an exaggerated suffering expression.

Again, the clip switched—it was now another blooper of you in the Iron Man movie, the scene where you handed Tony’s arse to him in the boxing ring. Instead of acting as scripted, Gwen Paltrow got up from her seat and strode over to the boxing ring, stepping inside gracefully and planting one right on your lips.

Presently, you giggled as you thought back to this moment. Gwen was your impulsive queen. Your idol.

From the floor, RDJ squawked in shock, exclaiming about being cheated and betrayed and Gwen flung her stiletto off her foot at him without moving from your lips.

When she finally did, she simply smiled at you kindly, “you just looked so good that I couldn’t not kiss you, sweets.” She shrugged and you, on screen, laughed at her as you leaned back in to kiss her cheek.

(Unfortunately the scene was not included in the movie—but Gwen never wasted an opportunity to talk about it, and you, if the chance arose).

The clip moved onto another one—back to the Thor : Ragnarok movie, you and Heimdall were fighting together, however you missed a step in your stunt and ended up stumbling. Idris immediately caught you with a steady arm around your waist, full you to him so you could stabilise yourself.

You smiled up at him thankfully, squeezing his arm in gratitude (totally not because you’d just wanted to feel his bicep).

You watched as your on screen self get distracted again and Idris murmured to Tom who’d now appeared next to him, “I feel like it’s dishonourable how much I want her to fall so I can catch her again now.”

“Mate, trust me,” Tom laughed, “I completely understand. But she doesn’t need the rescuing.”

“That she does not.” Both men smiled fondly as they watched you.

Presently, you were actively refusing to blush.

A different clip started up—Florence Pugh was being interviewed, looking breathtaking in her green dress. “—did you take anything from set?” The interviewer was asking, smiling at Florence.

“Um—not much, just Y/n’s heart.” Florence immediately cracked up at her own joke, smiling widely. “And her underwear too.” She added.

The interviewer opened her mouth to say something more, giggling at Florence as she continued speaking: “and before you ask, no. I wouldn’t be selling, for any price. Finders keepers and all that shite—plus, she’s my girl, so. That rule applies even more so. No one else can take her heart. Or her pants.”

Watching your friend, you giggled at her cheesy smile at her words before getting distracted by your group chat, where multiple of your friends and co-starts had seen your message and were now responding. Your laughter increased tenfold as you opened the thread.

5K notes View Post

jestersasphodel

1 year ago

Tangerine

Masterlist

Summary: You’re definitely not an insomniac. But Oscar keeps finding you awake at all hours, and he’s starting to get worried. Or: I wrote this while actually being unable to sleep, passed out for 3 hours, woke up and finished it. So… here you go, I guess?

Warnings: insomnia, anxiety/mild paranoia?, alcohol, limited knowledge of the actual structure of the MTC and the corporate structure of McLaren in general, a poorly researched night in Tokyo

The MTC lobby is empty, besides you. The lights are half turned off, motion sensors that have gone hours without detecting anything. You’ve stuck to your table in the corner. It’s quiet, just how you like it.

You look up from your notebook after who knows how long, blinking your weary eyes. Outside, the floodlights reflect off the inky black lake. There’s a car, pulling up in the drop off area outside the front doors. It’s Oscar, you think, his car one of a few that are easily recognizable. Sure enough, it’s confirmed when he climbs out of the driver’s side door. He leaves it running as he makes his way up to the door.

Oscar scans his pass and the doors wing open, followed by all of the lights in the lobby flickering on. You squint, fighting the urge to shield your eyes from the harsh lighting. Oscar is rushing through the lobby, a man on a mission, but he skids to a stop about halfway across the shiny tiled floor.

He turns, slowly, and makes eye contact with you. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”

You hold back a laugh, thinking that might be a little mean, all things considered. “What are you doing here?”

He sighs, hands hanging at his sides. “I forgot my phone charger, and my laptop, and…” he pauses, frowning at you. “What are you doing here?”

You raise your brows right back. “Working?”

You watch his eyes flicker across your setup. You’re still in the same McLaren sweatshirt you’d been wearing when you saw him that morning. Your hair is piled atop your head. Your laptop sits open in front of you, the only source of light before Oscar burst through the doors. There are papers and notebooks scattered on the tabletop. Your pen is missing- you selfishly hope that as he scours your table, he’ll spot it.

“You got here at 8am,” he says, bewildered. “It’s almost midnight. That’s almost 16 hours.”

He says nothing about the pen. Why would he? He doesn’t know it’s missing. Logically, it must be here somewhere, probably under a paper or clipped to a notebook, but you’ve given up.

“Yes,” you answer, smirking. “You’re great at math, Oscar.”

He rolls his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, home? Sleeping?”

You shrug. “I took breaks. It’s not like I’ve been working all day straight.”

You’re not lying. You’d taken a good, long lunch break, and an afternoon walk around the grounds. You’ve gotten up to stretch a couple times, made runs to the break room for coffee. You hope he doesn’t see straight through it, though. Hope he can’t see the dark circles under your eyes, the paleness of your skin, the exhaustion weighing your shoulders.

It’s not that you weren’t tired. You just knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep. One of those days. So instead, you had decided to be productive. Which had led to this- you in the lobby of your office building, hunched over a laptop. Oscar, the driver whose data you’re scouring, staring at you with wide eyes.

“Go grab your stuff,” you tell him, nodding towards the doors he’d been headed to. “You have an early flight tomorrow.”

He blinks wildly. “We’re on the same flight.”

You nod, because you both know this quite well. There’d been a meeting this morning about who had to be where and at what times. You’re on the first flight out with the main team, headed to Singapore.

“I’m not the one who has to drive the car at very high speeds this weekend,” you remind him, pointing the eraser of your pencil at him. “Or the one who has to be in front of the cameras. You need your beauty sleep.”

Oscar laughs at that, a happy sound that makes you smile, too. “Okay, okay. I’ll be right back.”

You think about disappearing to the bathroom or the break room while he’s gone, just to avoid any further questions. You know Oscar relatively well, though, and knowing him, he’d just wait around until you came back. Or worse, come and try to find you. You can picture it- you pouring your third cup of coffee in the last hour, Oscar watching from the doorway with disdain. You stay put, sipping from your mug and scribbling notes.

He’s back within a few minutes, a backpack in hand. His keys dangle from his fingertips. You don’t look up from your laptop as he walks towards you, that is until he’s standing right in front of you. You blink up at him through your lashes. There’s a frown on his face- this close, you know your lack of sleep must be obvious.

He nudges the top panel of your laptop with a single fingertip. “C’mon. Time to go home.”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, shaking your head. “I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early.”

“What, you just gonna stay here until we all meet up in the morning to go to the airport?” He scoffs.

“That would be ridiculous,” you laugh.

“It would,” he agrees. He seems to see straight through you, though. “Come on. Close the laptop, close the notebooks. You can work on this on the flight, like a normal person.”

“I’m trying to improve your car, you know.”

“I’m not leaving until you do,” he finally says, and you scoff with wide eyes. “And remember, I’m the one who has to actually drive the car. And go in front of the cameras. I need my beauty sleep.”

You rear your head back, unsure how to even counter that. He takes the opportunity to close the laptop for you, and you bat at his hands. Then he’s sweeping your papers into piles, stacking your notebooks and gathering them up into his arms.

“That’s my intellectual property, you know,” you scold him, reaching for the papers. He holds them up above your head easily, and you groan. “Okay, okay, I’ll go, just- I lost my pen, earlier. It’s my favorite one. I just have find it and then I promise I’ll go- you can go home, really, I’ll see you-“

He’s reaching for your head, suddenly, and you freeze. When his hand returns to your view, he’d holding the pen between his fingertips. You blink once, twice, then reach for it, but he’s holding it above your head within seconds, too.

“We’re leaving,” he tells you, firmly. “Come on. Up we go.”

You get to your feet reluctantly and pack your things into your bag. Oscar helps, handing you your papers in neat little piles. He keeps you in front of him as you both exit the lobby, like he’s afraid you might take off running further into the office building. His car is still parked out front, still running, and you see him wince.

“Didn’t expect to be inside for so long,” he says sheepishly.

You laugh lightly, starting your walk towards the employee lot. It’s down a well lit path, but every step feels heavy this late at night.

“Wait,” he says, and you pause. “Do you want a ride? You seem tired. You know, sometimes that’s as bad as driving drunk.”

“I’m not gonna fall asleep behind the wheel,” you tell him. You say it with confidence, because it’s pretty likely you’re not going to fall asleep at all tonight.

He cocks his head at you, cast in the bright glow of the floodlights. “At least let me drive you to your car. Otherwise, how do I know you’re not going to just go back inside?”

You roll your eyes. “And how do I know you’re not trying to kidnap me?”

You end up getting in the car, because he makes it pretty clear he’s not leaving until you do. You contemplate just walking to your own car, but honestly your feet feel so heavy it’s just not worth the fight. Oscar, to his credit, doesn’t kidnap you. He also doesn’t comment on your very modest car, the only one left in the parking lot. He does try to offer you a ride home one more time, but he lets it go after your repeat refusal.

You say goodbye, climb into your own car, and start the engine. The heat kicks on quickly, thank god, and you start up a playlist. It’s only when you look up, ready to leave, that you notice his car is still sitting there. You can just barely see Oscar behind the windshield, and he waves at you. He’s waiting for you to leave.

You flip him off as you roll out of the parking lot, and you watch him laugh in response.

…..

You’re one of the first ones at the office the next morning, and therefore one of the first ones on a shuttle to the airport. Oscar’s chronically late, or as he would call it, chronically precisely on time, so you don’t see him until he’s climbing on the plane. McLaren’s rented out a charter plane for this trip, with the double header making it the easiest solution.

You’re already settled into a seat, laptop open on the table in front of you, headphones on. You barely even look up when you feel him looking over you, but then he’s tugging one side of your headphones off your ear.

“Did you even sleep?” He asks, brows furrowed.

“Yes,” you lie, raising your brows at him defensively.

Oscar raises his brows in return. He obviously doesn’t believe you.

Before he can say anything else, Lando’s behind him, leaning up over his shoulder. “Oscar, mate, get a move on.”

Oscar rolls his eyes but does as Lando’s urging. There’s not assigned seats, per say, but the two drivers are headed towards the middle of the plane where their trainers and other senior staff are sitting. That’s how these things normally go- it just makes sense. They’ll have meeting on the plane, talk about meal plans and strategies and get ready for the weekend. You’ll spend your flight going through the data just one more time, trying to unlock all of the secrets to give Oscar the best possible chance on Sunday.

…..

Singapore is good. Not great, not perfect, but good. For Lando’s team, it’s a huge weekend. And honestly, 4th place for Oscar in his rookie year is huge too. He’s thrilled, tells you as much after the race, after the briefing.

“I know you worked hard this weekend, put in a lot of hours,” he says. “Thank you.”

“Just doing my job,” you say with a shrug.

“Right.” He says. “Thanks, though.”

You smile up at him, knowing it’s wobbly and insincere. You don’t take compliments well. “No problem.”

When you get to the hotel that night, you lay down in the bed and try to fall asleep. It’s no use, really, because it’s not your bed, and because your mind is racing. There’s nothing even bothering you, that’s the stupid thing. Just… a billion thoughts flying by all at once. So you wander the hotel, up and down the stairs, down the halls. You make a pit stop in the exercise room, walk on the treadmill, try out the towing machine. You’ve never been one for working out, but the internet says exercise can help with sleep issues. It’s worth a try, but it doesn’t work.

You contemplate sneaking into the closed hotel pool, but ultimately decide against it. You’d probably get caught, and then you’d get in trouble, and it would somehow make it back to your boss. Then you’d get fired in Singapore, left to find your own way home. So instead, you head for the vending machines on your floor. There’s got to be something in there that’ll cure the racing in your head. Or at least bring you some comfort in the dead of night.

What doesn’t bring you comfort in the dead of night is a face in the reflection on the glass of the vending machine. You nearly scream when you meet someone else’s eyes. You whirl around, arms in a defensive position, and come face to face with Oscar.

“Would’ve pegged you for flight, not fight,” he says drowsily.

“You can’t sneak up on people like that,” you hiss, dropping your hands to your sides.

“Payback,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face clumsily. “B‘sides, I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you. I was trying to get a snack.”

You blink at him. “Oscar, it’s 3am.”

He nods, blinks slowly. You almost expect his eyes to stay closed, almost expect him to fall asleep standing up.

“I woke up starving,” he says, shuffling towards one of the vending machines. “Promise you won’t tell Kim? I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

He’s cute when he’s sleepy. You want to tuck him into bed and tell him bedtime stories. You want to kiss his forehead. You blink hard, trying to reset your brain. The sleep deprivation is really getting to you. This is your coworker, your teammate.

You shrug and nod in agreement. “Would’ve kept the secret without the bribe, but if you’re offering…”

Oscar laughs, a quiet sound in the empty night air. “What’ll it be, then?”

He’s leaning against the glass heavily. He must still be half asleep. You can’t blame him. You point at the bag of chips you’d been eyeing, and then at the gummy worms in the corner. He nods in approval of both, selects them, feeds the machine his money. Then he’s picking his own snack- a poptart and a bag of Cheetos. He backs away, but you make a noise and point at the drinks machine.

“And a Red Bull?” You ask, pointing at your favorite flavor where it sits, lit up by fluorescent light.

He turns back, almost puts the money in, and then he pauses and looks at you. “It’s 3am.”

“Right, we established that.”

“Why would you drink Red Bull at 3am?” He asks, bewildered.

You shrug. “Because I like Red Bull.”

“Go work for them, then,” he suggests. You laugh. “Actually, I have a feeling that would be severely detrimental to your health. Too many free energy drinks. Do you ever sleep?”

“Those are big words for 3am,” you tease, nudging his shoulder. “Come on. The tangerine one, please.”

“I’m not buying you a Red Bull.” He shakes his head. “I am walking you back to your room and you’re going to bed.”

“I’ll tell Kim about your snacks.”

“No, you won’t.”

You let him walk you back to your room. He stands there as you swipe the key card, as you open the door and shuffle inside. He says goodnight from the doorway. You close the door after you echo the sentiment, lock all the locks, and lay down in your bed. You close your eyes and try to go to sleep. You really, truly try. But when the clock turns over to 4am, and you realize it’s useless, you roll out of bed and head down to the vending machine. You buy the Redbull with your own money, carry it back to your room, turn on the tv, and settle in until the sun comes up.

…..

Tokyo may just be your favorite city in the entire world. Everything is open all the time. You’ve never felt more seen by a city. The days that you and the rest of the team spend there between the two races are heaven. You have meetings during the day, but they’re short and easy. At night, there are plenty of places for you to roam, plenty of things to do and see.

You spend your nights in ramen bars, in arcades, in toy stores that seem to stretch on for miles. You collect so many souvenirs you’re worried you’ll have to buy a second suitcase. Frankly, you’re going on week two of sleeping only in one to two hour stints, and it’s likely you’re beginning to get a little manic. In Tokyo, though, nobody bats an eye.

You join the team for breakfast in the hotel lobby on Thursday. You’ve somehow ended up at a table with Oscar and Lando- you’d gotten here before anyone else, and Oscar had chosen the seat across from you. Lando asks what you’ve been up to. They’ve been busy with promo stuff, you’ve hardly seen the two of them all week.

You regale them with your stories and hand off your phone to Lando so he can scroll through your pictures. Oscar listens with rapt attention, leaning to look at the photos too.

“How do you do all this and find time to sleep?” Lando asks, an amused tone in his voice.

“She doesn’t, mate,” Oscar replies, pointing at your phone. “Look at the time stamps.”

You roll your eyes and snatch the phone away from them. Lando’s looking at you with wide eyes, Oscar is smiling amusedly.

“Sleep is for the weak,” you tell them, and you swear Lando’s eyes are going to bug out of his head. “We’re in Tokyo, I’m making the most of it.”

To Oscar’s credit, he doesn’t bring up the encounter at the MTC, or the run in at the vending machines. Still, this revelation seems to bewilder Lando.

“Sleep is like, the most important thing,” he says, shaking his head. “For your health.”

“Not all of us have to be in tip top shape,” you say, stabbing your fork into a waffle on your plate. “Some of us get to have fun. Exhibit B. Our breakfasts.”

Lando looks at your plate, filled with waffles and bacon and your cup of coffee, next to it. He casts his glance to his sad looking bowl of oatmeal, then, and sighs heavily. Oscar’s laughing at the two of you, though his plate looks just as sad.

“When you pass out halfway through the day,” Lando says, a retaliatory furrow in his brow, “I’m telling Andrea why.”

“That won’t happen,” you reassure him. “And besides, it’s media day. I have it easy.”

…..

Oscar makes it on the podium on Sunday. You scream your lungs out with the rest of the team, run to the pit wall, watch the podium celebrations. He’s wrapping everyone in enthusiastic hugs, slapping everyone’s backs and grinning so, so widely. All the lost sleep feels worth it, just to see him smile like that.

When he makes it to you, he hauls you into his chest, arms around your shoulders, holding you tight. You could stay like that forever, if he’d let you. He tucks his chin atop your head and you think you’d like to make a home right there, in his arms.

The celebrations go late, and so does the debrief. By the time it’s all said and done, everyone looks exhausted, including the drivers. They start shuttling you all back to the hotel for the night, back in Tokyo so you can get on the plane easily tomorrow morning. You’re just glad to be back in the city. On a night like tonight, buzzing with adrenaline and caffeine, there’s no way you’re falling asleep.

You somehow end up in a shuttle with Oscar. He smells like champagne and sweat, and you tease him about it when he sits down in the back row next to you.

He smiled sheepishly. “So I smell like a podium finisher, then.”

You watch as the city goes by out the window and listen to him chat idly with the others in the van. When you get back, you’re the last one out of the car. He’s waiting outside the hotel, leaning on the wall.

“So, what’s your plan for the night?” He asks, cocking a brow.

“No judgement?” You ask.

“No judgement,” he promises.

You shrug. “Not exactly sure. There’s a lot to do. I’ll probably get some ramen, maybe go shopping. Might just take a walk.”

He nods. “Sleep?”

“Not high on the priority list,” you admit.

He nods again. “Can I come with?”

You blank, staring at him. “What?”

“On your adventure,” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can I come along?”

Suddenly your heart is pounding in your chest. He wants to come with? Why? There’s a part of you that doesn’t like the idea, that thinks your sleepless adventures are for you and you alone. The other part of you, the one that wins out, thinks it might not be so bad to have some companionship.

“… sure,” you agree, eyeing him carefully. “But you have to play along. No forcing me to go to sleep.”

“Promise,” he says, holding out his pinky.

You hook yours with his and seal the deal.

…..

You both head up to your hotel rooms to change clothes, and in Oscar’s case, to take a shower. He sends you a text when he’s ready and you meet him in the lobby. He’s in a casual outfit, jeans and a hoodie. You’re dressed similarly, in a pair of black jeans and a crewneck.

“Where to?” He asks, wide grin on his face.

It turns out that Oscar is the ideal late night adventure companion. You start your night out at a sushi conveyor restaurant, both of you joking about how Lando would never dare to eat there. You eat to your heart’s content and make comments about fueling up for the night ahead. He even joins you in having an energy drink, some Japanese brand that you’ve never heard of. Oscar reads part of the label to you, balks at the amount of caffeine in it, and drinks it anyways.

After the restaurant, the two of you climb into a cab and head to the Shibuya district. It’s crawling with people, buzzing with energy, and you feel right at home. Oscar sticks close to your side, hanging onto the back of your sweatshirt as you cross the busy crosswalks in a sea of people. When you turn, though, he’s smiling like he’s having the time of his life. The two of you climb the stairs to an observatory where you can watch the dance of pedestrians and traffic from above. There’s a glow to the city that feels akin to how your brain feels when you can’t sleep- like it never goes out, never turns off.

You tell this to Oscar, who gives you a contemplative look.

“Is it the energy drinks?” He asks. His hand is on your wrist, likely just to keep track of you in the crowds.

You shake your head. “The energy drinks came after the… not sleeping-“

“Insomnia,” he suggests.

“… not sleeping,” you repeat, narrowing your eyes at him. “Anyways. I was like a zombie. The energy drinks make it so I’m functional. I figure if I’m gonna be awake, may as well enjoy it.”

You head back out onto the streets and begin to wander again. Oscar follows along, always holding onto you in some way, always smiling when you look at him. The two of you wander through art galleries and museums lit up with neon lights. Somewhere in the middle of one of them, he slips his fingers between yours. You’re not complaining. There’s something grounding, leveling about his presence.

You stop for drinks at a bar- some sort of local beer that Oscar orders for both of you in Japanese. It’s followed by a vodka Red Bull, at your insistence. Oscar wrinkles his nose but drinks the whole thing, seemingly determined to match you.

Next door, there’s a highly American themed bowling alley. Oscar laughs about how Logan would love it and pulls you inside. It’s the first stop of the night that he’s suggested, so you go along eagerly. He’s snapping pictures, ones to send to Logan, ones for himself, ones of you smiling, renting out bowling shoes. He pays for the game, and you both do terribly. The worker puts the bumper guards up out of pity, because the two of you obviously have no idea what you’re doing. He’s a world renowned athlete, you’re a highly skilled engineer, and yet, you both suck at bowling.

“When did the in-“ you fix him with a glare, and he stops mid sentence. “When did the not sleeping start?”

You look up at the ceiling of the bowling alley and purse your lips, watching the disco ball spin. “Next question.”

He huffs and shrugs, rolling the ball down the lane. “I don’t have a next question.”

“What’s your family like?”’you ask him, and he smiles, softer than you’ve ever seen him smile before.

“Well, I have three sisters,” he starts, eyes lighting up.

Somewhere between the bowling alley, the next bar, and the shopping mall you end up in, you start to really get to know Oscar. It’s funny how the night opens people up. Everything feels safer in the dark, surrounded by other people. It’s creeping up on 1am- in theory, both of you should be sound asleep. The fact that you’re not makes anything okay. You learn about his family, his childhood, his friends back home and in the UK. You tell him about yourself, too. He listens with an eager look on his face, laughing at all the right moments, squeezing your hand at the right ones, too.

You end up in a store that’s packed to the brim with stuffed animals. He lets you drag him around the whole thing, pointing out cute ones and the ones you think are a bit odd. Then you gasp, pointing excitedly, pulling on his hand.

“It’s you,” you squeak, the delirium beginning to set in. It’s a stuffed Kangaroo, and he groans softly. “Look, you’re even making the same face.”

Oscar seems unable to argue with that. Both he and the stuffed kangaroo do seem to be scowling. He smiles instead, picks it up, and takes it to the register. He buys it before you can really even say anything, and the cashier packages it in a bag. The kangaroo’s head sticks out over the paper, your second faithful companion for the night.

By 3am, Oscar is starting to drag. He perks up every time you look at him and smiles brightly, but you can tell. His grip on your hand is looser lately, and his blinks are growing longer and longer. You turn to him, a sympathetic smile on your face.

“We can go back to the hotel, if you want,” you say, poking his cheek lightly.

He smiles. “Are you tired?”

You sigh. “No, but you are.”

“I’m okay,” he insists, shaking his head. “What about the batting cages you mentioned? That sounded fun.”

You pout at him. “Oscar, you’re half asleep. You’d definitely get hit by a ball.”

He nods in agreement. “Maybe I just need another energy drink?”

You cock your head at him, take in his heavy eyelids, his parted lips. “That would be your third one of the night. And that would be very unhealthy.”

He nods again. “Yeah. Okay. Just… I said I’d be along for the ride.”

“We can hang out at the hotel,” you suggest. “The pool area is open all night.”

“I didn’t bring my swimsuit.”

“Me neither.”

You somehow end up with a pizza on your way back, and the two of you plant yourselves in the pool area on one of the chaise lounge chairs, the pizza box in front of you. You eat the greasy, cheesy food, and even Oscar indulges in it. He has his hand planted on the chair behind your back. Every so often you lean backs against his arm just to feel his presence. His knee bumps against yours, and you smile.

The pool is clear and blue. Neither of you will be swimming, but this felt like a neutral enough place. You’d thought about inviting him back to your room but had felt weird about it. There’s something calming about the still water and the smell of the chlorine, anyways.

He leans his head on your shoulder. The heavy weight of him is nice. He’s solid, sturdy, grounding. You’re chatting idly about something that happened at the race, something he’d missed while he was driving the car. You break off in the middle of a sentence to yawn, and then you close your eyes for just a moment. Oscar’s breath hitches.

The two of you are silent for a moment. You stare into the clear water, aching to drift and float and fall asleep. You sigh and pull your knees up to your chest.

“It started when I was a kid,” you tell him. “I just… stopped sleeping. It comes and goes in cycles. Sometimes I’m fine, sometimes I just…”

“Can’t sleep,” Oscar finishes for you, his words contradicting the sleepy tone of his voice.

“Yeah,” you say, blinking slowly again.

Your head droops, resting against his. He’s so warm, so comforting. He must feel you drifting, must feel your grip faltering, because then he’s sitting up, tucking you into his chest.

“Is there anything I can do?” He asks, drowsily.

“M’so tired,” you admit, curling into him. “Justwannasleep.”

Tears are stinging at your eyes. You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t been prepared for this part. The moment when your lack of sleep catches up to you, and you become an emotional, distraught mess. You’re seconds away from full on sobbing.

Oscar seems to sense this. “Okay. Okay, how about- I have a pull out couch in my suite. Why don’t you- if you’re comfortable, you could come sleep there. Maybe it would help to know somebody’s there if you need it? Maybe-“

“Okay,” you answer, nodding against his chest. “Okay, yeah.”

He takes care of the empty pizza box and guides you up to his room. You know there’ll be questions to answer if anyone sees you, but you’re comforted by the fact that it’s 4am and nearly every sane person is sound asleep. He scans into the room, and you let out a sigh when he lets go of your hand. He moves quickly, unfolding the pull out couch, grabbing extra blankets from the cabinets. Before you know it, you’re sitting down on the bed, rubbing your eyes.

It’s strange, now that you’re here. You’re in Oscar’s hotel room. You’ve just spent the night wandering Tokyo with him. You’re exhausted, sleep deprived, still on the verge of tears. Everything feels hazy and blurry.

“I can… go, if you want,” he says, and you blink up at him through your blurry vision. “Or I can sit with you till you fall asleep.”

“That might take a while,” you tell him. “Like, you’re more likely to fall asleep. Even… when I finally get to this point, it takes a while.”

He shrugs. “We could put on a movie.”

That’s exactly what you do. He turns on the tv, spots Finding Nemo on the guide, and turns it on. He sinks down on the bed, leaning against the couch back. You crawl up next to him as he turns the volume low. At first, you just sit shoulder to shoulder. Then he reaches out, wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulls you into his side. You sigh against him. Cradled close, you let the exhausted tears flow. He can’t see you, probably, and even if he can, you can’t bring yourself to care. He leans down, brushes his lips against your forehead.

“M’right here,” he says, softly. “I’ve got you.”

You wake up at 8am with your head in his lap. His alarm is blaring from the side table, and you’re both springing apart. He fumbles for his phone, shutting the alarm off with the shaky hands of someone who’s just been woken up from not nearly enough sleep.

You, on the other hand, have gotten the most consecutive sleep of your last two weeks. You stretch, rubbing the blur from your eyes and blinking at him.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“For what?” He asks, voice steady.

“For… I don’t know. Keeping you up so late? Falling asleep on you?” You shrug. “I… that was a lot, for me to put that all on you.”

Oscar shrugs, so nonchalant about it. “It’s what friends are for.”

You nod, though you’re not convinced. You pull away, and Oscar’s soft smile drops to a flat frown. He reaches for you, but you dodge his touch.

“I should go,” you tell him. “We have to leave soon, people are going to be getting up and- if they see me come out of your room-“

“We can be friends,” he says, again, brows furrowing. “We didn’t do anything wrong, everything is okay-“

He doesn’t understand. It’s fine for him, but this is too much for you. He wants to be friends, but you’re looking at him and thinking about how if you could curl up on his chest every night, you might never have trouble sleeping again. He wants friends, you want more. You can’t have more, though, because there’s no way you’ll keep your job. And he doesn’t want that, anyways. Why would he? You’re just his pity project, the poor girl who can’t sleep, who fails at counting sheep.

“I should go,” you repeat, standing up. You can’t look at him, can’t watch him watching you. “Thank you. For everything. I’m sorry.”

He stands up too, and he grabs your hand. You pause, stuck between ripping your hand from his and running, or whirling around and snapping at him. Fight or flight. Instead, you take a deep breath. You’re still sleep deprived, still exhausted. 4 hours doesn’t fix two weeks of little to no sleep.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, shoulders sagging. “I have a hard time letting people take care of me.”

“It’s okay,” Oscar says. “Just- come sit down? Let’s talk, okay?”

You sink down on the bed, rest your elbows on your knees and your face in your hands. “Why do you care?”

Oscar sits down next to you. He reaches out, knits your fingers together. You’re reminded of the art galleries, of the crowds, of the bowling alley. You split yourself open last night, in the safety of the time when you should’ve been sleeping. He saw you and he’s still here, somehow, hanging on. Your bones are tired. Your head is pounding. You need caffeine.

“I care,” he says, gently, “because I care about you. Because I think you’re a good person, and I want to get to know you better. And because this whole thing is not healthy.”

You sigh. His thumb brushes over the back of your hand methodically, back and forth. The funny thing is, you could fall asleep again, just like this. You could lean into his shoulder, let the warmth of him deep into your skin, and fall asleep. You wonder if he knows it.

“I’m fine,” you tell him, rubbing at your face sleepily. “Osc, I’ve been like this for years. It’s not just going to change now.”

“Not overnight,” he says, softly. There’s a callous on his thumb, you can feel the scrape of it over your skin. It’s oddly soothing. “But I can try. I can be here.”

“Why would you want to?”

“Because despite all the craziness, last night was the most fun I’ve had in weeks,” he says, and you could cry. “I want to spend time with you. I want to get to know you. Take you on dates. The whole nine yards.”

You should’ve expected this. Oscar can be shy, and quiet, but he can be straightforward, too. He’s pretty easy to read. He’s blunt with Lando, almost to the point of contention sometimes. But you’d been so focused on trying to prove to him that you were just fine that you hadn’t considered he was feeling the sparks, too. That maybe he wasn’t holding onto you in the crowd just so he didn’t lose you. That maybe he liked the feeling of your skin on his, too.

“If you want that,” he says, voice low.

You blink blearily, pull away to look up at him. “I do.”

He nods, leans forward, kisses your forehead. The rest of it will come later, you think. You can work all the details out when you’re both more awake. Right now, he pulls your into his chest and flops back onto the bed.

“We have an hour before anyone comes looking for us,” he says, rubbing your back lightly. “Close your eyes? You don’t have to sleep, just-“

You blink once, twice, and then you’re fast asleep before he can get another word out.

…..

Oscar wins the sprint race in Qatar, and then takes second on Sunday. He’s nothing but endless wide grins all weekend, despite the heat and the dehydration and his obvious exhaustion. You laugh when you watch him lay down on the floor in the cool down room and smile when he gets sprayed with champagne on the podium. He chases you through the garage afterwards to give you a hug, despite your screeching about how sticky he is.

He tucks you into his chest. “Couldn’t have done it without you, baby.”

Later, you help corral a very tired Oscar and Lando to the shuttles and back to the hotel. They’re each stumbling over their own feet, giggling and laughing about the race, shoving at each other’s shoulders. For a minute, you’re walking through an empty parking lot, far from any other McLaren staff, and Oscar links his fingers with yours. They fit together like puzzle pieces. His fingers are sticky with champagne, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Lando sees and doesn’t say anything, just smiles.

You’re keeping it quiet for now. Time to figure it out between the two of you before you get your bosses involved. You have a feeling it’ll be mostly okay. You’ll figure it out, one way or another.

You follow Oscar up to his hotel room, saying goodnight to Lando as he heads further down the hall. He knits his fingers with your again, leads you into his room, collapses onto the bed.

“I’m exhausted,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Are you?”

You smile down at him, laid out on the bed. He should probably shower, at the very least change his clothes, but you can’t bring yourself to tell him that.

You sigh. “I mean, yeah, but if you’re asking if I’ll be able to sleep… probably not.”

He nods in understanding and purses his lips. “D’you think… would you just… stay, until I fall asleep?” He asks, blinking up at you. “After that you can take my card and get a Red Bull and go do whatever, just-“

“Yeah, I’ll stay,” you tell him.

It’s the easiest thing you’ve ever done. He gets ready for bed, and you do the same. You lean against the headboard and he crawls up the bed. He puts his head on a pillow in your lap, curls up into a little c shape. He’s very cat like, you’ve noticed, especially when he’s sleepy. You run your fingers through his hair, the tv playing quietly in the background, and he sighs and closes his eyes.

“Goodnight,” you murmur, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple.

He’s out within minutes. Oscar is a sound sleeper. You could move him, could shift his head and get up. You could wander the halls, take his card and buy all the energy drinks you desire. But you look down at him, his brow unfurrowed, lips parted, and you can’t bring yourself to do it. You could sit here and watch him breathe all night. It’s a terrifying and comforting thought, all at once.

You don’t sleep. It’s likely you’ll crash on the flight home, or maybe shortly after that. With your luck, you’ll pass out in a meeting when you get back to the MTC. Oscar doesn’t scold you when he wakes up and it’s obvious you’ve been awake all night.

He gets you coffee from the breakfast bar, exactly how you like it. And when he finds you in the backseat of the airport shuttle, he hands you a tangerine Red Bull. It’s early, the sun just peeking up over the horizon, washing the whole city with orange. He’s smiling at you, and you’re smiling right back.

When you fall asleep on his shoulder on the way to the airport, nobody dares to say a word.

…..

“Did you hear we’re gonna be sponsored by Monster next year?” Lando asks, throwing a tennis ball at a wall in the courtyard.

You sit up in the grass nearby, eyes lighting up. “You’re kidding. Free Monster?”

Oscar, whose stomach you’d been laying on, sits up behind you and wraps his arm around your waist. He rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Your consumption will be restricted,” he says, and you laugh.

You suppose that’s fair. Besides, Monster is fine, but nothing will ever top tangerine Red Bull.

thanks for reading, hope you sleep better than me! you can find my other fics here! sweet dreams y’all

2K notes View Post

jestersasphodel

11 months ago

I truly hate the word "unalive." There are so many other euphemisms that fictional Italian mobsters worked so hard to provide you with and you just ignore them.

296K notes View Post

jestersasphodel

1 year ago

Smallest Drop - Part 2

Summary: Seeing as part one went well, I present to you the continuation but this time, from Astarion's point of view. Thank you all so much for your support. It makes me so happy to know the fandom is enjoying my work.

He honestly doesn't know what Tav wants from him or why she keeps stirring weird emotions in him and she only further confuses when she presents him with a thoughtful gift.

There will be a part 3. Tav is not mentioned by name.

Content Warnings: She/Her Tav

Word Count: 2.2k words

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Astarion never considered himself particularly lucky but he knew how to adapt to situations beyond his control – keep himself alive and everything. He’d proven himself to be talented enough to seduce well, just about anyone.

Just about anybody it would seem but not a single member of the strangest group imaginable, also known as the one he’d chosen to travel with.

Because luck would mean the most frustrating woman in the world would be the one he aimed to… shall he say, convince about the benefits of staying close to his side.

Oh, she wasn’t exactly immune to his charms. He could see the effects when he moved close to her and her lips curled into a natural smile, attention flickering to him in anticipation of what he wanted to say. She brushed against his shoulder whenever she wanted to pass and laughed at his snide remarks.

All the things that he would usually consider a success; a sign he’d managed to win her heart in some form.

But then, she also went and did the absolute opposite.

Instead of pulling him aside in the camp when he offered and allowing him to drag his lips along her throat, she dragged him into the middle of the group to socialize. She leaned into his touches and then ran off to help save another puppy or whatever else caught her attention.

It annoyed Astarion because he knew she liked him but he didn’t know what she wanted from him. They’d spent one evening together and she appeared keen on more but then rather spent her nights teaching an owlbear how to sit.

Admittedly, a very cute pastime but still.

She ran a bath for him, washed his hair, and then promptly left him alone in the water instead of joining him for some fun. If he understood, he could easily provide but she made the first part infuriatingly difficult.

“Alright,” he said after she’d caught him staring into a blank mirror and spurned agitation in him by reminding him that he didn’t, in fact, know what colour his eyes once were. “Tell me what you see when you look at me. Surely you can describe my appearance well enough.”

She giggled and put a hand to her chin, as though considering. “I think we’d be sitting here the whole night if I did that. You’re so pretty, it’s unfair.”

Pride curled hot in his chest and his irritation simmered. Amazing how easily she managed to do such a thing. “Oh? Then name your favourite.”

She reached out to brush a strand of hair away from his face, freezing only when the action had already startled both of them. Astarion wondered why she stopped for only a second before he realised he’d shifted away from the touch, a movement done on instinct rather than thought.

Shit. That wasn’t going to help him.

She dropped her hand as though nothing happened. “I refuse to believe becoming a vampire changed you that much. There’s no way you weren’t this gorgeous before.”

She knew how to appeal to his vanity and the strangest thing about it was, he didn’t feel as though she did it on purpose. Her ceaseless flattery came naturally to her.

“It’s been over two hundred years since I last saw it and memories fade.”

A lie but not an important one. He remembered everything since the day he woke up in his coffin, panicked and struggling to breath though he didn’t need to. The pain of transforming, the agony of starvation, and unending confusion. Nothing slipped away and he hated it. Despised how the memories shoved their way forward.

But for now, he refused to think of them and instead waited to see what she thought of. She pressed her lips together tightly before she spoke.

“The first thing I noticed when I met you were your eyes. They’re red, obviously, but they’re also strong and piercing. You also get these crinkles beside them when you laugh.”

Again with the strangest compliments. Still, he took them in his stride this time. “That’s better. What else?”

“The way you smile. It’s dangerous and sharp but occasionally, genuine. It’s enough to charm anybody, I would say.”

He offered her a smile in response, pleased with the praise. He preened beneath her pretty words and happily took the knowledge close to heart. Meaningless flattery had always been one of his favourite things.

“Now just tell me I’m beautiful and we’ll call it a day.”

She laughed and tilted her head to the side. “You’re beautiful. I thought that much was obvious.”

But something in the way she said it ruined everything. She took the most boring compliment of the lot and meant it deeper than all the others. The teasing tone easily exposed the truth and the pride disappeared, replaced by something he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“Thank you,” he said. “Now was there any real reason for you to make your way over here?”

She didn’t really want anything but he’d almost expected it. Everything she found on their journey eventually got shared with him and today, she spoke about some woman’s letter she’d found. Nothing important.

Astarion thought that would be the end of it.

He continued to flatter her to make sure she always preferred him above their other companions and was rewarded when she continued to seek him out first. An entirely selfish action truly but she offered him a path forward.

The others had their strengths but something about her united them the best. If a chance existed where he could retain this ability to stand in the sun, he had no doubt she would be his best way there.

Even if she did insist on carrying about so much nonsense she found whenever they went out and helped every person with the smallest problems.

But then she found an empty book lying on the floor somewhere and she immediately began staring at him whenever it was open, scribbling away inside but always staring at him over the edges. Every time he offered her a quizzical glance, she smiled and continued with whatever she was doing.

She showed it to Wyll and Gale a few times but never brought it over for him to see.

Of course, if Astarion really wanted to, he could find what waited in those pages easily.

The parasite provided an easy path forward but she would know he wanted something when he dug around in her head. He didn’t sleep most nights but she rested deeply; deeply enough to allow a vampire to drink from her throat without even waking her like the true fool she was.

She knew, even laughed when he complimented her the next morning, but never once complained, just told him he was welcome back whenever.

Originally, he thought she may be too trusting but he learned quickly how wrong that assumption was. She didn’t believe most of the people who tried to sway her to their side; straightened her back and glared when they tried to trick her and often even stood between them and her companions.

Which meant, somehow, he’d earned her trust.

Ridiculously stupid as it was for her to trust him, he didn’t want to lose the privilege and so he left her book alone until the next time she spent too long staring over its top.

“I do hope you’re writing something fun in those pages,” he said. “If you let me read them, I’m sure we can make them happen.”

She laughed at the suggestion. “No, it’s nothing like that. I’m just trying to draw you.”

He lowered his goblet a little in confusion, unsure how to respond to such a thing. “Draw me?”

“Well, you complained so much about not being able to see yourself in the mirror so I thought this would be the next best option. Come here and I’ll show you.”

She patted the spot on the ground beside her but Astarion didn’t move. Of all the things he’d expected from her, he hadn’t anticipated a recall of the strange conversation from before. Certainly not for her to have spent several days on such a thing.

“Come on,” she welcomed him. “I’m not horrible at art, I promise.”

He shook off the surprise and forced a laugh. “My apologies, I got distracted watching those adorable cheeks of yours flush. It’s absolutely delicious to see the way the sun burns your skin.”

“Oh, that wasn’t the sun,” she said. “If you’re talking about this.” She twisted a little so he could see a deeper red mark on her chest and where it curled over her shoulder. “You know the chest I kept fiddling with beneath the grove? Turns out it was trapped but don’t worry, Shadowheart promised it would fade with time.”

He honestly hadn’t been speaking of anything but he found himself annoyed at her for a reason he couldn’t pinpoint. “Well, I suppose that’s what you must deal with when you’re obsessed with looting everything we come across.”

“It’s profitable,” she teased. “Now do you want to see what I’m drawing or not?”

He took his time to saunter over and sink into a relaxed seat beside her. The sun had begun to set and its final rays danced over her skin as she shifted closer, leg brushing against his own as she turned the pages to him.

“It’s not perfect,” she warned. “You’re not an easy person to capture on the page but it’s something.”

True to her words, the book had been filled with sketches from the front to the back. Some crude and others detailed but every single one was of him. Close ups, full bodies, and even a few in action with daggers drawn. Had she truly drawn them from memory alone?

“I keep getting frustrated when they don’t come out right,” she said. She leaned back so she was lying against the grass, attention on the sky. “I’ve asked the others but they can’t tell what I’m doing wrong either. They’re just not right.”

He turned the pages slowly, not sure how he should respond to a gift like this.

Seeing his face showed truth to her words. He hadn’t changed awfully much in these years. The great care put into this though… she’d spent ages detailing his hair on others and even put dapples of sunlight over others from when they’d been travelling through the forest.

They didn’t have many hobbies to pass the time while travelling (not unless you counted Lae’zel who appeared to be collecting more and more heads as they continued on) but this must have taken so much of her waking hours.

The emotion that crept up his throat was unwelcome and difficult to recognise. It made his unbeating heart twist uncomfortably and he immediately snapped the book shut.

She nudged him to get his attention. “Well? What do you think? We can hire a professional when we reach a bigger city but it’s a temporary solution.”

He forced the smile and it felt wrong. “I doubt even a professional will capture me right. It’s as you said, difficult to capture perfection.”

She laughed. “I’ll try again tomorrow but with our plans, I think you’re going to be in a foul mood and I don’t want to draw you when you’re sulking.”

“Me? Sulk? I couldn’t possibly imagine why when you’re making me trudge through a swamp.”

She grinned and for a second, the briefest moment, he felt something tug on his chest when he looked at her. Fondness. His panic flared immediately and he turned his gaze away, uncomfortable suddenly with the attention she lavished upon him.

Curse her and her ridiculous book. Yet another strange aspect of her life – one that tempted him to flee in the middle of the night and never return to this group and their insistence on helping people.

But he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t give up the safety provided by them yet.

“I’ll be happy to take this off your hands darling,” he said to her, holding up the book. “Keep it safe and make sure it doesn’t disappear in the night.”

“You will not. It’s mine until I get at least one drawing of you right and then you can have it.”

He leaned over her, placing one hand on the ground beside her hip. “Wouldn’t you rather the real thing? We can make some references for more enticing artwork in the future.”

She stared at him, briefly frozen as he drifted a faint touch over her thigh. The flare of lust in her eyes made him comfortable again. This was something he understood. An emotion he recognised. She still wanted him; she must if she spent all this time trying to draw him.

She moved closer and her breath brushed over his cheeks, her eyes locked on his.

He waited, about to close the gap, when she suddenly kissed him on the nose, grabbed the book from his hand, and rolled away with a laugh.

Astarion was left blinking as she tucked the book into her pouch.

“I’ll let you have it when I’m done but that does sound like fun. Unfortunately, this evening though, I managed to talk Wyll into giving me some dance lessons so I’m booked. You should join if you feel up to it.”

He huffed and tried not to let the strange jealousy return as she ducked away towards the others.

Taglist: @rosenightwings , @tragicdruid , @bloopthebat , @venus-wrts

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jestersasphodel

3 years ago

Aug 2019

Reblog this to prove your blog was made before the February 2022 tumblr resurgence

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jestersasphodel

7 months ago

'STILL WAKES THE DEEP' AU | MASTERLIST

SOAP x READER

You're an environmental scientist conducting research on an off-shore oil rig with only a few days left before you're slated to leave. The eldritch creature they accidentally awaken throws a wrench in the works.

Or: scenes from the 'Still Wakes the Deep' au

a collaboration between @bi-writes and @ceilidho

tags: Size Difference, Size Kink, Explicit Sexual Content, Dubious Consent, Deep Sea Creature, Eldritch Monster, Minor Character Death, AFAB reader, TBA

First Meeting Warning Signs

Extras

Initial posts (1, 2) Series moodboard

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